#and then Tails told him he didn’t eat the supper he left for him because he didn’t know if he was allowed to

[tornado1992]

Babyfied Tails not crying no matter how hungry or sick he’d be because when he was an actual toddler he learned that if he cried no one would come to help him, his cries would only attract the people who wanted to hurt him.

#miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #baby miles tails prower #Sonic would have to constantly check on him and make sure to always have snacks on hand because Tails just won’t tell him he’s hungry #baby tails couldn’t cry because the people on his village would beat him up #ouch #Sonic learning about this would have to be physically restrained from commuting several crimes #also don’t let Amy or Vanilla know about this either they would go apeshit #after baking baby tails some cookies of course #haha imagine if Sonic comes back home after a few hours out and only learns about Tails being hungry because his stomach growled so LOUDLY #and then Tails told him he didn’t eat the supper he left for him because he didn’t know if he was allowed to #haha i’m dying here #baby tails #sonic headcanon #headcanon

[val-made-a-mistake]

❝NEW YORK CITY.❞

(not my gif)

summary: your trip to new york city with harry and his friends brings a few realizations to light.

warnings: fluff, take a shot every time someone says fucking hell, sam randomly being a telepath

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i started this fic a million years ago and only just now got the inspiration to finish it! i wrote about four different endings before i found the one i really liked, i hope you enjoy, harry is honestly my favourite out of the holland brothers and has been for a while now, but don’t tell anyone i said that.

//////

You weren’t sure how you were liking New York City so far. You’d slept on the flight, so you weren’t very jet-lagged, unlike Sam and Harrison, who had practically collapsed in their hotel room and slept until dinner, but you were still accompanied by a foreign feeling from the moment you’d stepped foot into the city, and it wasn’t just because of the paparazzi on your tail. You felt like you didn’t belong here, it was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.

“You good over there?” Harry asked as he noisily searched through his suitcase, causing you to blink yourself down to Earth again.

“Yeah, are we gonna see about supper?” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“Soon as Tuwaine drags Tom out of that Hershey’s place, I suppose,” he replied, turning his wrist to check the time. “This is supposed to be the city that never sleeps, right?”

You glanced at your own watch— thirty minutes to midnight. “Yeah, I suppose.”

BANG!

“Jesus Christ, keep the door on,” Harry said irritably, not looking up as Sam marched into the room.

“Sorry, my key card wasn’t working,” he said, going for the the phone charger on the other side of the room, and you frowned. “Why are you in a bathrobe?”

“They had a spa. And a restaurant. Get this, their venison fillet was surprisingly decent,” he started, reaching for the towel on his head, and Harry laughed. “Speak English, mate. I guess we can say you’re accounted for?”

BANG!

“Fucking hell, there’s gonna be no door left!” Harry exclaimed, turning round.

“There’s a spa,” Harrison replied as the door swung shut behind him.

“So we’ve heard,” Harry grumbled.

“Have you guys not had dinner yet?” Sam asked, apparently indifferent to the commotion and chucking the towel that had previously been in his hair elsewhere.

“No, me and Y/N were talking about eating,” Harry said, deserting his suitcase and leaning forward to squint out of the peephole of the door, “It’s not too late, is it?”

“I don’t think so, we passed a few twenty-four hour restaurants on our first night, remember?” Harrison replied, leaning backward to lie on your bed. “Hi, Y/N.”

You bit back a laugh. “Hey.”

CREAK!

Tom opened the door like a normal person, and Harry let out a sigh of relief or a sigh of frustration, you couldn’t tell. “Great, the whole clown car’s here.”

Tuwaine frowned as he knelt down to retrieve something from his suitcase. “Hey.”

“Right lads, what’re we eating?” Tom exclaimed cheerfully, clearly not caring about his volume, and everyone shushed him.

“I can Google a place,” you told Harry, withdrawing your phone.

“Tom, Nikki wants to FaceTime,” Harrison said as you opened a search engine and let your fingers fly across the keyboard.

“What’s the time difference?” he replied.

“Uh, London is five hours ahead, so if it’s eleven pm here…”

“Fucking hell.”

“There’s a Taco Bell nearby,” you called out to the room at large. “It closes at 4 AM.”

“Right, I think Y/N and I should go,” Harry announced. “Tom and Tuwaine are clearly exhausted, Harrison and Sam are in their bathrobes, that leaves me and her.”

“Can I text you what I want to order?” Tom asked, already preoccupied with his phone.

Harry was reaching for his jacket. “Sure, yeah. C’mon, Y/N.”

You nodded and got up from the bed— then hesitated.

“This is still my bed,” you told the room, gesturing at it. “The golden rule still applies.”

“Let’s go,” Harry exclaimed from the doorway.

“Okay, okay!”

You hurried forward, grabbed your jacket off the hotel chair with a flourish, and followed Harry into the hallway. As soon as you let go of the knob, the door swung shut.

Silence.

“What’s the betting?” Sam asked after a beat.

“A hundred quid,” Tuwaine answered. “What, you wanna bet more?”

“Nah, I just - I’m not the only one who saw how he was looking at her, right?”

“You’re the biggest hopeless romantic of the lot,” Harrison said, barely containing his grin as he followed the golden rule and slid off your bed.

Sam looked offended. “If it comes to Harry and Y/N, that would be Tom, thank you very much.”

“I technically didn’t start this whole thing,” Tom shot back defensively. “I only invested in it. It’s not my fault I’m the only one with a proper job.”

“Hey!”

“Shut up, all of you,” Harrison said. “I’m gonna go to my room, if that’s alright.”

“Night mate,” Tuwaine called.

“Night.”

//////

Three hours later, you were staring up at the ceiling, trying not to think about how many people had slept in this bed before you while Harry fumbled around in the bathroom, the buzzing of his electronic toothbrush made faint by the closed door.

There came that feeling again: you didn’t belong here.

Suddenly, there was a small crash followed by a muffled curse— by the sounds of it, Harry had just dropped his toothbrush into the sink— and the bathroom door was flung open.

“Night,” he told you gruffly, shuffling over to his bed, and you smiled at him, reaching forward to turn off the lamp. “Night.”

Darkness flooded the room and there was silence.

You chewed on your lip, overcome with the feeling of needing something as you glanced at the digital clock. The blinking, neon green letters told you it was 3:02am.

The sheets on the other bed rustled, but Harry was silent, so you didn’t dare engage him.

Silence.

You closed your eyes, but found yourself opening them again.

“Okay, fucking hell,” Harry said, and with a small CLICK light flooded the room again.

You sat up and stared at him. “What the hell was that for?”

“Let’s get out of here,” he suggested, kicking a cream-coloured blanket off of him. “Bring a jumper.”

“Where are we gonna go?” you asked as you jumped to your feet and started searching through your suitcase.

“Nowhere. Anywhere. I dunno,” he responded, kicking off his slippers in exchange for sneakers, “We’re stealing Tom’s car.”

You paused in the middle of pulling your hair back. “What?”

He withdrew a silver set of keys and grinned at you. “Tom’s always the easiest to nick from.”

“You had that on you the entire time?” you exclaimed, feeling dazed as you stepped into your shoes.

He shrugged, unbothered. “Blame Sam. Alright, let’s go.”

//////

You’d been driving around for close to twenty minutes, listening to Taylor Swift croon about love and heartbreak on the radio when Harry moved his hand to the cupholders in between your seats, in close proximity to your own.

The gesture was harmless, but still, it had your heart racing in your chest.

“Pretend he doesn’t know that he’s the reason why you’re drowning, you’re drowning…”

The needy feeling came back as you leaned forward to turn off the radio, fighting to keep your heart from leaping into your throat.

“Can we park somewhere?” you asked, keeping your eyes on the windshield.

“Where?” Harry responded, employing his turn signal and turning left.

“Anywhere. I - I just want to,” you fibbed, pulling your hand away from his and hastily turning the radio back on.

As Harry pulled into a parking garage, you unfastened your seatbelt and brought your legs up to your chest, suddenly needing more warmth than ever.

There was silence.

“So?” he asked as soon as he’d parked, putting up his armrest so he could lean towards you properly, and you smiled weakly. “Tom’s gonna kill us if he found we’ve been out here.”

“Eh, I reckon Tuwaine could buy us some time,” he replied, looking up at the dark sunroof. “New York’s great, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” you confessed sheepishly, and Harry raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh?”

“I’ve felt weird ever since we’ve left Kingston,” you said, resting your face on your hand. “In all honesty, I kinda want to go home.”

“I get you,” he replied, even though it sounded like he didn’t. “But then again, we’re not gonna get to experience these types of shenanigans in Kingston, eh?”

You laughed a little, remembering the venison fillet and the spa. “You’re right.”

There was silence as Harry tugged on his bottom lip, apparently deep in thought.

“C’mere,” he said after a minute, extending his arm.

Feeling extremely awkward, you put up your armrest and shimmied closer to him until he’d wrapped you in a one-armed hug.

You had to bite back a smirk in spite of yourself. “Fucking div.”

“Shut up,” he shot back, and you grinned at the centre console.

“We’re gonna go back to England soon,” he whispered after a minute.

“I know,” you mumbled, now trying to cozy yourself as best you could when you were practically sitting on Tom’s cupholders. “Can - can I-“

“Sure, yeah-“

You buried yourself in the crook of his arm in an attempt to get comfortable, and Harry let out a snort before he could stop himself.

You raised your gaze and gave him a look.

Then— you weren’t sure how it had happened, all you knew was one minute you were gazing up at him, the next it was happening.

His kiss tasted sweet, addictive, like a mouthful of cotton candy melting in your mouth, and you immediately sat up to kiss him deeper at the same time Harry yanked the seat backward.

You all but fell onto him with a loud shriek, but you didn’t care, not when the needy feeling inside you exploded.

You deepened the kiss immediately, threading your hands through his hair and pulling it tight as your tongue rolled against his. Your body felt like molten lava everywhere he was touching you, you couldn’t get enough, not even when he slipped a hand under your shirt.

Harry grunted something incoherent, a soft, guttural sound that you knew meant he liked it, which happened to be the sexiest thing you’d ever heard.

You leaned into it, needing more, more, more, everything but him be damned.

//////

“Oh my god.”

“Sam, man, go to sleep,” Tom groaned from the other side of the room, burying his face in yet another pillow. “I have press tomorrow.”

Ignoring him, Sam bounded up and started searching. It had to be somewhere in his suitcase, right?

“Fucking hell, what’s gotten into you?” Tom exclaimed, turning on the lamp. Going off the digital clock on the nightstand, it was just turning over into 4 AM.

“I think Tuwaine just lost a hundred quid,” Sam replied curtly, ripping a pair of jeans out of his suitcase and tossing them elsewhere. “I need my wallet.”

“Why - how?” Tom blinked blearily in the bold lamplight. “Mate, Harry and Y/N are in their beds. You need to sleep.”

“I just know,” he shot back stubbornly, now searching the cabinets. “It should be around here somewhere - yes.”

He grabbed his wallet, split it open, and jumped to his feet again. “I’m gonna find Tuwaine.”

#harry holland #harry holland x reader #harry holland fic #harry holland x you #harry holland fluff #harry holland fanfiction #harry holland x y/n #tom holland #tuwaine barrett #sam holland #harry holland imagine #harry holland blurb

[sofiaaaaaaaa03]

Did You Mean It?

Pairing: Dad!Din Djnarin x GN foundling! Reader

Rating: G

Word Count:1,449

Summary: Din has been teaching you Mando'a and does not know how to react after you call him buir (father) for the first time.

Request: Heyyy, love your writing! Definitely not enough platonic mando fics out there. But I was just wondering if you were interested in making a tag list, if not that's fine I just don't want to miss anything you write! Also, if your still taking requests I was wondering if you would write a fic around the reader calling Din some form of dad for the first time. By accident or on purpose (like after Din teaches her the word buir) it doesn't matter to me. I'm just curious how Din would react lol!

A/N: Hey hey!! I’m fairly new to tumblr so I’ll do my best to do tag lists in the furure! Just let me know if you wanna join so I can write it down somewhere :)) (That was for the general public I’ll definitely mark your name down) I’ve seemed to have grown a habit for writing in Din’s perspective haha, but yes I do think that no matter how Din first hears the reader call him buir he’d still be like “...me?” I hope what I did was okay and you enjoyed it. And thanks so much for liking what I write!!!

Although you were not raised in Mandalorian culture, Din took it upon himself to teach you Mando’a. He first brought it up some time after his encounter with Bo Katan and the other Mandalorians. When he finally saw others of his kind, albeit reassuring, it reminded him that the effort it took to find them could only mean his people were slowly being wiped out. Din needed to hold onto his deteriorating culture, and hoped that you would take an interest in learning from it as a member of Clan Mudhorn. When he inquired about your interest in learning the language he did so thinking that you would probably be daunted by the challenge. He wouldn’t have been offended if you declined as he didn’t want to force you into something you had no interest in, but much to his surprise you were ecstatic about it!

It warmed Din’s heart to watch you fumble over syllables during your first lessons. He began with simple introduction phrases and vocabulary. Nothing too difficult but sufficient enough to help you progress. You were often praised for your efforts and encouraged to converse with Din for practice, which you did. He often corrected you on grammar mistakes and your pronunciation. One thing you hated was how he wouldn’t remind you of a word you’d forgotten during a conversation. He’d simply ignore your plea to remind him and continue his work, leaving you to try to remember the term by yourself.

After some time, you were capable of holding simple conversations. Nothing too complex, but enough for you to get by if there was ever the need for you to use it. On one occasion, it helped you avoid getting arrested.

Although it was not entirely your fault, it often sounded like it was the way Din told it. The Clan had taken the day off to visit a local market after a successful bounty to stock up on fresh supplies and eat a good meal. Din gave you several credits to spend on whatever you pleased while he went to run his errands. The day was particularly sunny. Shoppers wandered around Din, although he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the civilians with his beskar. Curious eyes casted towards him but he paid no mind to them as he walked up to a vendor and greeted her with a nod.

“Can I buy a holopad around here?” He inquired, waiting for the vendor to return his change. She paused a moment, credits in separate hands as she thought a moment.

“Not too far off that road,” Din followed her gaze and thanked her, pocketing his change before making his way to the shop she’d pointed out to. In truth, he already had a holopad of his own but wanted to give one to you for your upcoming birthday. He approached the shop, pausing a moment to gaze at the door, before making a move to open it. Wait.

What was that?

Din slowly moved back and surveyed the area. He could have sworn he could have heard something familiar. He strained his ears to listen once more.

“Buir!”

Suddenly his attention was caught by your figure as you desperately ran towards him, almost tripping on your feet with Grogu clinging onto you in your arms. Behind you was a vendor tailing you, anger written over his expression. Din marched forward quickly, pushing you and Grogu behind him when the two of you were close enough and held a hand out as the vendor approached.

“What did you do?” He looked down at you, not waiting for an answer but rather looked at the vendor. He hunched over, hands on his knees while he caught his breath. “Can I help you?”

He inhaled sharply and straightened himself up after gathering his breath, gesturing at you. “Is this yours?”

“Can’t you see the resemblance?” Din’s voice was monotonous despite the sarcastic comment. You made a face at the man from your place behind Din. The man inhaled sharply at your expression, though Din chose to ignore your actions.

“Is there a problem here?” Din inquired, pushing you further behind his back so you wouldn’t upset the man even more.

“I caught them trying to steal some of my produce. I have half the mind to call the sheriff-”

“That’s not true!” You interjected, pushing yourself into view but Din was fast enough to push you back in your place.

“Y/N.” Din warned, “vaabir no ukoror bic. Tonaid was bic?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your stance, raising Grogu higher in your arms. “Grogu.”

“Kaysh hiibir mayen?”

“Nayc, he grabbed some things and I didn’t realize.”

Din understood now that you meant this was just a misunderstanding. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder and turned to the impatient vendor. “My foundling has a habit of grabbing anything he can get a hold of. He’s still a child. You can understand.”

At first the vendor was reluctant to leave, convinced that Din’s little clan members were nothing but no good thieves. He even insisted that Din paid reparations for what Grogu had taken, for he tried to eat some before you took it from his mouth. It took some convincing, and several credits, to make the vendor walk away satisfied.

“Well, that’s that.” Din sighed, shaking his head a little and tucked his hands onto his hips. He turned to the two of you, “C’mon, let’s get something for you two to eat.”

At the local cantina Grogu helped himself to a hearty bowl of soup while you ate your own favorite meal from there. Din simply sat back, checking his credits before placing the payment on the table so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it later. When he was done and his mind left wondering, he thought back to when he first heard you call for him in Mando’a.

Buir…

The term you used was one that a child would call its father. You called him father. He wondered if it came out naturally for you, or if you used it because you had to prove that you and Din had some sort of relation. That must have been the case. You’d only been a member of the clan for almost a year now. Seeing Din as a guardian should be natural, but a parental figure? Din wasn’t so sure. He had grown fond of having you around. As an older child you were a far better conversationalist than Grogu was and many times showed that you trusted Din. But still, Din wasn’t your father. He had to remind himself that sometimes. But still, he couldn’t stop wondering how you saw him as he watched you eat your meal.

“Did you mean it?” Din didn’t know where he found the courage to start speaking, but he didn’t stop himself.

“Hm?” You lifted your head, your dish in your hands as you were about to take a bite.

“You called me… buir.” The word sounded strange to call himself.

Your face lit up when you reminisced the incident. “Oh! I mean, yeah. I knew it was the only way to grab your attention. It was really crowded today.”

Din chuckled, “It worked.”

You couldn’t help but smile before taking another bite into your meal, smiling to yourself at its taste. It’d been awhile since the clan ate at a cantina. It’d been awhile that the kiddos had gone out actually. Why was it that every time they joined Din out into town trouble would occur? Din shook his head lightly, deeming that only he would have ended up with such troublemakers.

“But, it’s not like I don’t see you as one.”

You stared back at him, cocking your head to the side and giving him a small smile. Although you couldn’t see it, Din held a big smile underneath his helmet. For a moment he almost forgot that you couldn’t see his expression and collected himself as you waited for his response.

“I’m really proud of you, Y/N.” He beamed, turning to wipe some smudge off of Grogu’s face. “You’re a great kid.”

You grinned widely and a pleasant moment of silence falls upon you two despite the noisy environment. Din told the two of you to finish soon so that the group would return to the ship before nightfall. During the last moments of supper, you and Din conversed with each other in Mando’a to practice your pronunciation once again. At some moments you grazed through phrases you previously struggled on, though you did not realize it Din certainly did, and it made him even more proud of how you’d grown.

#din djarin x reader #dad!din #din djarin #grogu #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #x you #reader insert #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #gender neutral reader #gn reader

[furtheradvofsanta]

Santa Claus Letter 2019

Every year for Christmas I write a story for my nephew in the form of a letter from Santa. I recognize this is after Christmas, but we’re exchanging presents late this year, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This time I was inspired by how much I hated The Nutcracker and the Four Realms. Enjoy!

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

Santa’s Workshop

Beyond the Riphean Mountains

Beyond the North Wind

True North Pole

December 20, 2019

My dearest [name],

I am sending you this letter on the occasion of your fifth Christmas, but I worry it may arrive to you late. You see, I’m not sending it from home, despite the return address I have attached at the top. I worry the mail here is not quite as efficient as it is at home, so this letter might arrive well after Christmas, for which I apologize. It’s something of a long story, which I think you will soon come to understand.

Anyway, you won’t believe the year we’ve had here at the workshop. You wouldn’t expect that after our troublesome visit from the gremlins last year that we would have another problem that threatened to keep Christmas from happening on time for a second year in a row, but sometimes things just happen that way. I hope we don’t make a habit of it. This time, at least, nothing surprised us at the workshop that almost blew us all up. Our home was safe this time, but we had to travel far away to make sure everyone else was safe, too.

I believe I told you last year that I take every chance that I can to visit my friend the Man in the Moon, but I don’t think I told you anything about him. I’m sure you’ve seen him; he’s just up there in the sky hanging out most of the time. But I’ll bet you didn’t know he has a name and a wife and a dog, and I’d guess you don’t know how he got up there in the first place. Well, I’ll tell you, and you won’t have to wonder anymore.

His name is Cain, a name that unfortunately bears a rather bad history, and this Cain was a bit of a troublemaker himself when he was still on Earth. Oh yes, he was once a regular Earth person, but that’s been many years ago now. One night--a Christmas Eve, in fact--Cain was out with his dog gathering sticks for the fire when he passed a neighbor’s garden that was full of cabbages. His head should have told him that stealing was wrong, but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his empty belly telling him that cabbage soup would make a fine Christmas dinner.

He shifted all the sticks he was gathering into a bundle on his back and began loading up his arms with stolen cabbages. He was so excited about having soup for dinner that he didn’t notice that a handsome man in a fine suit was now standing in the garden watching him.

“Would you rob me on Christmas?” the man asked Cain.

“Christmas on Earth or Monday in heaven makes no difference to a man in need of supper,” Cain replied.

The man thought about this for a moment and then asked Cain if he would rather burn in the sun or freeze on the moon. Cain laughed at this, because it seemed an impossible question, but he supposed he would rather freeze on the moon.

“Then may it ever be a Moon-day in heaven for you,” the man said, and he wished Cain to the moon, bundle of sticks and stolen cabbages and all. He’s been there ever since, because Death doesn’t know to look for him there. He’s not the first Man in the Moon--before him there was a man sent to the Moon by Moses as punishment for gathering sticks on the Sabbath, and then there was the shepherd Endymion who was beloved by the Moon--but he’s the only one now.

At least he’s not completely alone up there. He has his dog Phoebe to keep him company as he shines down on Earth and eats cabbages. There’s also a large rabbit constantly pounding rice into rice cakes, and a number of other strange things I notice every time I go to visit. They say the astronauts who have landed on the Moon have never seen these things, but explorers who have gone to the North Pole have never found my workshop either, so perhaps they just don’t know how to look properly.

You might be surprised to learn that the Man in the Moon is married. It’s true! He has a wife, but he only sees her once a year, at--you can probably guess--Christmas. The rest of the time she lives in a cave near the border of France and Germany, where she is greatly beloved and known affectionately by the people as Auntie Harry. Every Christmas, the great goose-footed fairy Auntie Harry leaves her cave and takes her donkey Marion to visit the good children of her region and leave them toys, candy, and treats (especially if they have left a snack of hay or turnips for Marion). When she has finished her task, she and Marion fly up to the Moon, where she and her husband Cain renew their wedding vows every year.

They say that if you know when to look, you can catch the Man in the Moon turning around once a year, on Christmas Eve, and that is true! He is turning around to see his wife, Auntie Harry, flying up to see him. He misses her so much during the year.

At any rate, it was Auntie Harry who tipped us off to all the trouble this year, and I am thankful for it! I don’t know what we would have done if she hadn’t been looking longingly up at the Moon from the mouth of her cave in France and noticed something was wrong. Something that looked like a long, bumpy, squirming tentacle, she said, appeared as if it was stretching its way up from the Earth to the Moon. We took a look with our most powerful telescopes and, sure enough, there was something like a tall, wiggling tower growing up out of what appeared to be eastern Germany.

I decided I needed to take a closer look, so I had Rupert, our farmhand, prepare the sleigh with my fastest reindeer so I could go see what this strange and alarming mass was. I knew, however, that I would have to be careful, as this part of Germany was under the protection of the small blonde angel whom they call the Christ Child (not to be confused with the actual baby Jesus). While the Christ Child is a loving gift-bringer and protector of children to much of Europe, she does not care for me very much, and she doesn’t appreciate it when she feels that I’m intruding on her territory, which she is very protective of. So I knew I would need to stay high in the sky to avoid being seen by her, lest she send against me her frightening companion, the walking scarecrow, Hans Trapp. Fortunately (in a way), the mysterious tower had grown far above the ground and up into the sky, so I didn’t have to get too close to the actual city.

You will never guess what I found, not if you had a million guesses. Was it a giant finger? No. Was it an enormous carrot, stretching out for the Moon Rabbit to nibble on? Oh, if only. Was it one billion marshmallows, hoping to escape into space? No. You will never guess. This miles-high tower that was now, I would have to guess, nearly halfway to the Moon was in fact a giant pile of squeaking, squirming, black-eyed, long-tailed little mice, all stacked on top of each other as if trying to turn themselves into a stairway to heaven.

What could be the cause of this? What could be the reason for it? I had no way of knowing, so I pulled the reins of the reindeer and told them to fly up so that perhaps I could see what was at the top. I have never seen so many mice in one place, and I could hardly guess where they had come from. If you have not seen any mice this year, it is probably because they left their home in [state] to join this tower of mice above Germany. How did they all get there? I can only imagine the number of mice sneaking across the ocean in boats and planes, following some irresistible order that only mice could hear. I shudder to think of it, frankly.

When I arrived at the top, I saw something that should not have surprised me. Which is a thing that should surprise you, because the thing I am about to describe is in fact quite surprising, so the fact that I shouldn’t have been surprised tells you the amount of surprising things I see on any given day.

What I saw was a mouse much larger than all the others, who stood on his hind legs and wore a long, purple military coat with a sabre strapped to his side, and a broad, fur-lined cloak over the top. At the top of his body rose seven heads, hissing and squeaking orders at the mice below him, and each gray head had a shining golden crown on top. This was, perhaps needless to say, the Mouse King.

You might have heard of the Mouse King, as his misdeeds are fairly well known, especially the uproar he caused at the Stahlbaum household so many years ago, but you may not know how such a scoundrel came to be. His mother was, of course, the Mouse Queen, and he inherited more than just the Kingdom of Mice from her. Her name was Madame Mouserinks, and in addition to being a queen, she was also a powerful sorceress, and a troublemaker of some renown, to boot.

You see, many years ago in a kingdom far away, a queen (a human queen) was making her husband the king’s favorite dinner of sausages, when Mouserinks tricked the queen into letting her eat all of the lard the queen needed to make the sausages. This made the sausages too dry, which made the king very angry, and so he swore revenge on the Mouse Queen. He summoned the court inventor, a rather ingenious clockmaker named Drosselmeier, to make the cleverest possible mouse traps to capture Mouserinks and her seven sons.

The traps managed to capture the seven Mouse Princes, but the Mouse Queen escaped unscathed, and she swore her own revenge against the king and queen for the loss of her sons. As it happens, the king and queen had just had a child of their own, a beautiful princess named Pirlipat. Knowing that Mouserinks would like come after her child due to the capture of her own, the queen assigned seven nurses to sit in Pirlipat’s room and hold seven cats--the famous tomcat Herr Schnurr, as he was known, and his family--in their laps, constantly petting them to make sure they were ever awake and alert to look out for Mouserinks and her sons.

But, as happens to people when given a boring job, or as happens to cats whenever they feel like, all seven nurses and all seven cats fell into a deep sleep. And so it was that they missed the moment that Madame Mouserinks used her magic to transform the beautiful princess into a very strange creature indeed. Where once Pirlipat had had the face of an angel, now she had a huge head attached to her tiny body, with large staring eyes, a large toothy grin, and a shock of white hair.

The king was outraged and set the task of curing his daughter on the poor court inventor, Drosselmeier, threatening to cut off his head if he could not solve this problem in a mere thirty days. Even a clever man like Drosselmeier was worried he wouldn’t be able to solve such a riddle in such a short time. And so he went to visit his friend the court astronomers to see if there was any help to be gained by observing the stars.

From this visit, Drosselmeier was able to determine that the princess could only be cured by eating the meat of the great nut Crackatook, the hardest, most delicious nut in the world. How would one go about cracking the hardest nut in the world, you might ask, and that would be a fine question. It turns out the only way was for a young man who had never yet shaved nor worn boots to crack open the shell with his teeth and hand the princess the nut with his eyes closed before taking seven steps backwards without stumbling.

This, as you might imagine, was a difficult mission even for Drosselmeier’s genius. Well, to make an already long story somewhat shorter, Drosselmeier traveled the four corners of the Earth--plus a previously undiscovered fifth corner that he called “zorth”--only to discover both the nut and the young man were to be found in his hometown of Nuremberg in Germany.

He found the great nut Crackatook in the shop of his brother Christoph, the greatest dollmaker in all of Nuremberg (which is no small feat, as Nuremberg has long been famous for its toymakers. Some are even almost as good as I am. I would say the Drosselmeier brothers are the closest anyone has ever come to the quality of my workshop, so I am glad they are my friends and not my rivals!). Also in that shop, he found his nephew, the seventeen-year-old Nathaniel Drosselmeier, who had never shaved and never worn boots. What’s more, the young Drosselmeier was so good at cracking nuts that the impressed young ladies of Nuremberg had taken to calling him Nathaniel Nussknacker, a name that means “nut-cracker.”

With quite a bit of to-do that we can skip over for now, Nathaniel Nussknacker was presented with the chance to crack the great nut Crackatook and rescue Princess Pirlipat and earn a great reward for his uncle and marriage of the princess for himself. He managed to crack the uncrackable nut in his teeth, handed the meat to the princess with his eyes closed, and began his seven steps backwards. As he did so, the princess ate the nut and was returned to her normal, beautiful self: lily white skin, eyes of azure blue, and golden curls in her hair! The king rejoiced, trumpets blared, drums rang ou! But at his seventh step, young Nathaniel Nussknacker stepped on and crushed Madame Mouserinks, who had just come crawling out of a hole in the floor! The boy stumbled, and in an instant, he had transformed just as the princess had: a huge ugly head with great white teeth, huge round eyes, and hair and beard of cottony white. If you have ever seen a nutcracker, you can picture how the young Nussknacker was changed.

No need to worry, though, as young Nathaniel did eventually find the true love that returned him to normal through defeating Madame Mouserinks’s seven sons who had been reborn as the seven-headed Mouse King and saving the Stahlbaum household. When young Marie Stahlbaum promised to love him despite his looks, she broke the curse on him, and the two traveled together to the Kingdom of the Dolls, where they were married and live as king and queen to this day.

And so you can see why I was so concerned to see that the Mouse King had returned and was planning to make trouble for the Man in the Moon. I suspected that the Mouse King had heard that the moon was made of green cheese (perhaps you have heard this, too) and thought that he and all the mice on Earth could climb to the moon and eat cheese to their hearts’ content without worry of cats or mousetraps or shrieking people swatting them with brooms.

I was also concerned because the presence of the Mouse King meant that the base of this column of mice was certainly in Nuremberg. Nuremberg is perhaps the city where the Christ Child is best known and at her greatest strength. There was no way I could go there, either to inspect the base of the mice column or--more importantly--to go talk to my friend Drosselmeier and his nephew Nathaniel Nussknacker to see if they could help me defeat the Mouse King, as they had done before.

Likewise, most of my toughest companions would likewise be recognized and unwelcome in Nuremberg: the Krampus, Belsnickel, and the Klaubauf would all be detected immediately. Rupert and Father Whipper would likely be more welcome, as the two of them sometimes help the Christ Child, but both worried about possibly coming into conflict with the terrifying Hans Trapp: Rupert is too kind-hearted to fight, and Father Whipper is too cowardly. And while Pete is my most trusted apprentice, this job was too dangerous for him and his brothers, no matter how much they might beg me to go to the moon.

As there was no way I could go on my own--in any of my many disguises--there was only one choice left: my wife, Mrs. Claus, a fearless woman who is definitely sturdy enough to handle the cold of the moon. The only question was how she would get there. My reindeer, horses, and donkeys were just as likely to be recognized as I was, and she needed something that could fly her to the moon, and fast. There was only one real choice: our fierce and loyal ally, Lunicursor, king of the griffins of the Riphean Mountains.

Once he had agreed to help us, Mrs. Claus and the griffin king headed out for Nuremberg. I myself had a number of quick stops to make myself before I could head to the moon. First, I wanted to make sure that Christmas would be taken care of if I somehow found myself trapped on the moon. Stranger things had happened before, and I have found myself captured by less powerful foes than the Mouse King, and time was running short before the big night.

As such, I made the quick trip from the North Pole down to the small nation of Iceland and out to the vast lava fields were Iceland’s many trolls live. There I found the thirteen troll brothers who love to make trouble for the children of Iceland at Christmas time by gobbling up their Christmas treats or slamming doors when they try to sleep, but they also delight the children by filling up their shoes with toys and candy, not just one night, but thirteen nights, one for each brother. They are called the Yule Lads, and they live in the lava fields of Iceland with their mother, a hideous ogress who likes to gobble up naughty children, and her cat, an enormous beast who looks for kids who did not receive new clothes for Christmas. (Next time you get socks for Christmas instead of a toy, be grateful, not sad! It’s better not to have the Yule Cat after you, I promise!)

By the time I got to the lava fields, the first few brothers had already set out for town, where they would bother families by drinking all their milk and scraping all the good leftover bits out of the pan with stubby little fingers. Luckily, the fourth brother--who is known as Spoon Licker because of his tendency to lick all the spoons in a house, hoping that there’s delicious sauce or cake batter left on there--was still to be found. I was able to get him to stop licking a spoon long enough to promise that he and his brothers would make sure presents got delivered to all the children of the world if I didn’t make it back in time. The Yule Lads could be hard to predict, but they weren’t nearly as naughty as they used to be before I taught them that helping children was more fulfilling than teasing them, and with thirteen of them plus help from Pete and Rupert and the elves, I thought surely they could manage to do the job I normally do in one night by myself.

I also had one other favor to ask them that I will tell you about momentarily.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Claus and Lunicursor had made their way as quick as lightning to Nuremberg, where they managed to slip unnoticed to the home of the clockmaker Drosselmeier. They immediately recognized him by his eyepatch, his shabby frock coat, and his shocking wig made of spun glass. He welcomed them warmly and promised to help as much as he could, as he was shocked and concerned to learn about the Mouse King’s return.

Soon Drosselmeier led Mrs. Claus and Lunicursor to a wardrobe with folding doors that was full of traveling cloaks lined with fox fur. Hiding above a large cape fastened to the ceiling of the wardrobe by a piece of lace was a ladder made of cedar wood. Climbing this ladder was the secret entrance to the Kingdom of the Dolls. You may have heard of similar secret doors in other wardrobes; some wardrobes are just that way.

Mrs. Claus and Lunicursor emerged with Drosselmeier in the Field of Sugarcandy, where everything was made of candied orange peel, burnt almonds, and sugared raisins. Soon they passed through the Forest of Christmas and over the River of Orange Juice, past the Village of Sweet Cake, along the River of Rose Essence full of golden dolphins, through the Wood of Preserved Fruits, and finally, to the capital, the City of Candied Fruits.

The capital always carries the scent of roses and has a slight pink glow to it, which comes from a lake filled with silvery pink waves on which swim silver swans with golden collars and jumping fish that shimmer like diamonds. It was on the other side of Rose Lake, past the noisy and bustling capital city, that the three came at last to Marzipan Castle. They found the king and queen--Nathaniel Nussknacker and his wife Marie--inside waiting for them.

Mrs. Claus quickly informed the young king--handsome in his coat marked with a giant golden spider, a sign of his membership in the knightly Order of the Golden Spider, which he had been awarded for saving Princess Pirlipat--that the trouble-making Mouse King had returned and that we at the North Pole required the help of the only man who had defeated him before.

Unfortunately, Nathaniel Nussknacker told Mrs. Claus that he would not be able to help us this time, as he had received word that the infamous giant Sweettooth had awakened and was returning to the capital with the goal of eating up Marzipan Castle. In the past, he had done great damage to the castle, eating the top of one tower and beginning toward the castle’s great dome before the people of the capital promised him the city’s Almond and Honey District in exchange for leaving the castle alone.

Likewise, when Mrs. Claus asked if the king had any word on the whereabouts of the descendants of the cat Herr Schnurr, who had frightened Madame Mouserinks in the past, he told her that he had unfortunately lost touch with that famed cat since taking up the throne in the doll kingdom.

Mrs. Claus was disappointed that King Nathaniel would not be able to join her in battle against the Mouse King, but she understood that he needed to protect his home against the giant. As she was preparing to get on Lunicursor’s back and fly back out of the Kingdom of the Dolls, however, Nathaniel Nussknacker stopped her and offered her the one bit of help he could: the use of the great sword Crackatook, which he carried strapped to his side at all times. The sword was named after the hard nut, as the shell of that great nut had been coated in gold and placed at the sabre’s pommel, where the name Crackatook could be seen carved into the shell in Chinese characters. The magic of the nut passed on to the sword, ensuring that its blade would never break or grow dull. It was also the only sword that had ever defeated the Mouse King before, as it was the same cavalry sabre that had previously belonged to Queen Marie’s brother, Fritz, who had lent it to the Nutcracker for his finally duel against the Mouse King.

Mrs. Claus thanked the king and his uncle for their great help and promised to return the sword in good condition (which is always important when someone lends you something that has great meaning to them). She strapped the sword Crackatook to her side, and she and King Lunicursor sped over Rose Lake, out of the Kingdom of the Dolls, out of the wardrobe, out of Nuremberg, and up to the moon!

All of this was accomplished while I myself was still meeting with Spoon-Licker in the lava fields, so it was of some importance that I make my way to the moon as quickly as possible so that I could aid Mrs. Claus and help protect the Man in the Moon from the Mouse King’s ravenous armies of mice. However, even my fastest reindeer--more rapid than eagles though they may be--are not as fast as King Lunicursor when he races to the moon, and so I knew I would need to take a shortcut. And so I planned to make my way to the moon by way of the stars.

I flew my sleigh at all speeds back up to the North Pole, where I called out to my dear friend, Callisto, the North Polar Bear. She lives most of her life among the stars above the North Pole, where she and her son Arcas help remind people which way is north. After I called out her name, she and her cub--both bigger than houses--lumbered down from their place in the sky. I explained the situation to her, which was not a surprise to her, as she had seen the pile of mice reaching up into the sky herself. She understood the urgency of our situation immediately, and of course offered to carry me and my sleigh up into the Star Land, especially once I promised to reward her and Arcas with large vats of their favorite soda once I had returned.

The Star Land is the home of the Star Man, who is the Christmas gift-bringer in western parts of Poland. He lives up in the mystical Star Land together with the Little Star, who is the star that the Three Kings saw at the first Christmas, and who brings gifts herself to children in southern Poland. Together with them are large numbers of Star Boys, who spend the Twelve Days of Christmas wandering around singing carols and welcoming the Three Kings, and a host of small angels, who also help deliver gifts. Normally, the gate between the Star Land and the Earth only opens on Christmas Eve after a child has seen the first star in the sky, but access between the worlds is easy when you live among the stars like Callisto and Arcas.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have much time to speak with my friend the Star Man, but I spoke with him enough to explain why I was passing through his land so that I wouldn’t appear rude. I promised him I would return soon for a longer visit, during which I would bring some pierogi, herring, and poppy seed noodles for us to share.

With that settled, I quickly re-entered my sleigh and set off for the moon. You might know that there are no stars between the Earth and the Moon, and that is true, but the Star Land is a magical kind of in-between place that people with calculators and telescopes mostly don’t have the ability to see anymore. Fortunately, if you do know the way, the trip from the Star Land to the Moon is quite quick.

When I arrived at the Moon’s surface, the scene was quite a mess! The moon was simply covered with mice, so that it looked like it had a wiggly brown carpet on it. There were some empty patches, however, that were not covered in vermin, and it was in those patches that I could see my friends: the Man in the Moon, Cain, fighting off mice with the thorn branches he usually carries on his back, and his little dog Phoebe barking and snapping at them; the moon rabbits abandoning their rice cakes to smash at mice with their hammers; and of course, Mrs. Claus and Lunicursor fighting valiantly against the mouse hordes with beak, claw, and the unbreakable sword Crackatook!

Though they were doing their best, they were greatly outnumbered, so I knew something needed to be done soon. And so I called out “On, Dasher! On, Dancer!” and, well, you know the rest. And at top speed I circled around the Moon, light side and dark side, until I finally spied the hideous, seven-headed, seven-crowned Mouse King, spurring on his army to swarm the Moon.

I lowered the sleigh to hover near to him and called out to catch his attention.

“Mouse King!” I shouted. “Call off your armies! You can’t eat the Moon, we need it! It doesn’t belong to you, it belongs to everyone! Besides, the Moon hasn’t been made of cheese for hundreds of years!”

“Bah!” called the Mouse King with seven voices at once. “The Moon is mine by right of conquest! If you want it, you should fight harder for it! I know you’re hiding the cheese somewhere!”

I hadn’t really expected that reasoning would work with him, so I knew I would have to use my backup plan.

“Mouse King!” I shouted again. “Nice purple cloak! Is that new?”

I could tell now that the Mouse King was annoyed with me. “No, you fool! This cloak has been in the royal family of the Mouse Kingdom for generations! New clothes are for peasants!”

“That’s what I thought you might say,” I replied, reaching back to open my magic sack. “I have someone who might want to meet you, then.”

Remember I told you I asked Spoon-Licker for one more favor? Besides asking them to cover for me in case I didn’t make it back for Christmas, I also asked if I could borrow their cat. You know, the enormous, shaggy cat that hunts down those who didn’t get new clothes for Christmas?

Well, once I opened the mouth of my sack, the Yule Cat, who had not particularly cared for being cooped up in a magical bag, leaped out as if he had been in a bathtub where the water was too hot. He made straight for the King of the Mice, and the King’s once fearless army soon found themselves scattering like their feet were on fire. The mice scrambled in hordes and jumped back to the Earth, many splashing in the ocean, some crashing onto the land, some going who knows where. It may be generations before all the mice find their way back home.

I’m not sure what happened to the Mouse King in all the chaos. All I could find was a pile of seven crowns and a tattered purple cloak. The Yule Cat can’t speak, but I’m not even sure he would tell. All I know is that he seemed much more contented when he went back into the bag.

Anyway, the Moon is safe again, for now. I will need to return the Yule Cat to Iceland, and Mrs. Claus will need to return the sword Crackatook to the Kingdom of the Dolls, but even with all that, I hope to still have Christmas ready in time and without many mistakes.

I hope this letter finds you well, even if not on time. I hope you have or will have had a merry Christmas! Maybe a happy New Year as well! Hopefully we both have an easy time of it in the coming year. Until then, I remain:

Your friend,

Santa Claus

P.S. I am sending along to you a book with more of the story of Marie and the Nutcracker so you can learn more about how the two of them met. It’s somewhat different from what I told you in this letter—which is not surprising, as there are many different versions of this famous story; sometimes they even call Marie Clara instead, or leave out the story of the hard nut Crackatook altogether—but I promise I told the story to you just as it was told to me by Godfather Drosselmeier. I also sent along small toys of myself and the Christ Child that I hope you will like.

P.P.S. If you have the book The Alphabet of Christmas, you can see pictures of some of the different people from this letter, like the Christ Child (under C), Father Whipper (F), Star Man (G), Krampus (K), Rupert (R), Auntie Harry (T), the Yule Lads (Y), and Pete (Z).

#christmas #santa claus letter #santa claus #nutcracker #man in the moon #yule lads #yule cat #prose

[kriscme]

One Life To Live

Hi Readers, here’s the latest chapter.   Thanks to Ronja for allowing me to write fanfic of her Hunger Games fanfic “The Chance You Didn’t Take” which you can read on AO3 and FanFiction. Chapter 27 The gates of Victor’s Village looms closer with every step.   I wish I could grab Marcus by the hand and run back into the woods.  To live in the concrete house by the lake, just the two of us, and live on wild greens, berries and katniss roots.   To make love long into the night, and then bring out our sleeping mats as we did last night, to lie beneath clear skies to watch for shooting stars.   Marcus would point out the constellations – big bear, little bear, lynx – and I’d say they look nothing like them, and then we’d take our sleeping mats back into the concrete house to sleep in each other’s arms until the morning light.  And we’d live it over, and over again, so I’d never have to face what lies beyond those gates. It’s not long to the wedding and I dread the thought of it, but I have to go.  If I don’t, there’ll be talk.  Flavius keeps me abreast of all the gossip. The relationship between Peeta and Lace isn’t popular, and this wedding is seen by many as the ultimate betrayal, so invested were people in our romance.  I don’t know if Peeta is aware of it; he seems to live in a fantasy world sometimes. But Lace surely would.   To protect him, I have to appear as if I’m fine with it.  And that means fronting up to the wedding, all smiles and best wishes for the happy couple.  But I’m far from confident that I can pull it off.   And there’s after.  Living across the road from them.  Knowing that Lace occupies his bed every night.  His happiness, her smugness.  The pain of interacting with him.  What are we now, anyway?  Not friends anymore, not really.  Acquaintances?  Fellow veterans?  And they intend having children too.  Five of them. It will likely be straight off, if Peeta has his way.  And when they’re old enough they’ll go to school.  The school I work at.  And be in my classroom.  I’ll never be free of them, even if I do move out of the Village.   Not only would I need to change houses.  I would need to change jobs.  Maybe even change Districts. As we pass through the gates, I can’t help but drag my feet.  Marcus turns his head to peer questioningly at my face.   I pick up my pace to catch up with him.  We’re nearly at my house. “I’m just tired,” I tell him.  “And hungry.” “You’re a woman of immense appetites, Katniss Everdeen,” he says, pulling me towards him to give me a quick, hard kiss.  “And whose fault is that?” I retort.  “If you weren’t so good at cooking and – “ “Fucking?” asks a disembodied voice.   A female shape emerges from the shadows of my porch. It’s Johanna.  She appears to have been waiting for us.   “You’re late,” she accuses.  “You said you’d be back around mid-afternoon.” I scowl at her.  I know what I said, but I don’t like her tone.  I’m not obliged to be back at a certain time to please her. Besides, what’s she even doing here? It’s not like I invited her over and wasn’t here when she arrived.   “We came back a different way.  It took longer,” I say curtly.  That’s all the explanation I want to give, but Marcus, perhaps to diffuse the tension, steps in to give Johanna a brief welcoming hug. “Katniss had something to show me.  Would you believe an oak with a circumference of over 23 feet?  At least three hundred years old.”   “That’s nothing,” says Johanna dismissively. “In 7 we have trees much bigger and older than that.” “Is there anything we can help you with?” I break in.  I’m not in the mood for a contest over which district has the biggest trees.   All I want is to offload this heavy pack, have a bite to eat and then go to bed.   “I need to speak with you.   That’s if you can spare the time,” she replies, her voice edged with sarcasm.  What is her problem?  She hasn’t been this hostile towards me since the Quell.   I turn to Marcus in exasperation.  He takes the hint and moves towards the door.  “Why don’t I see what I can scrounge up for supper? Will you be joining us, Jo?” I can see the struggle in her face.   This is food and Johanna will rarely pass on an invitation.  “No thanks,” she says, and I can see it’s hurting.  “I shouldn’t stay away for too long.” After Marcus closes the door behind him, I hoist my pack from my shoulders and drop it to the floor.  My feet are tired and I sit down on the top step, motioning for Johanna to do the same but she remains standing, arms crossed in front of her.   Before I can even open my mouth, she lets me have it. “Are you with Marcus now?” she demands. “None of –,” I begin, but then think better of it.  I don’t want to add fuel to whatever fire is bugging Johanna.  I start again.  “I don’t know.  Maybe.” And that’s the truth.  I’m not so naïve to believe that a weekend of sex makes us boyfriend and girlfriend.  Nothing’s been said about feelings, or our future. “But you’re fucking him?” Johanna persists.  It’s more a statement than a question. “We’ve had sex, if that’s any of your business,” I say stiffly. “Of course, it’s my business.  It became my business when you involved me in this whole sorry saga with Peeta.”  My irritation with her rises another notch.  It was her idea to get involved, not mine.   “Not that you shouldn’t fuck him,” she continues.  “Peeta’s had his fun, so why can’t you?  Heck, I’d even say fuck the entire district; you don’t owe him anything.   But it doesn’t help, you know.   Not when I’ve been working my arse off to get the two of you back together.  But today I really could have used your help.   With Peeta having flashbacks every five minutes and Haymitch next to useless.   Aurelius says it’s the stress but – “ “Wait!  Slow down.  I can’t make head or tail of what you’re on about.”  I shake my head in confusion.   “What stress? And why isn’t Lace taking care of him? It should be her responsibility, not yours.   I don’t –” “They broke up.” It takes a few seconds to sink in.  And when it does, all I can do is stare at Johanna thunderstruck.  “But why?” I eventually get out.  “Is it because she lied?” Johanna shrugs.  “I asked him that.  He said they both lied.”     She comes to sit down beside me on the porch step, having calmed down a little.  “When he came home last night, he didn’t seem too bad, just really flat, like he had nothing left.  But this morning, he started having those flashbacks he gets where he has to clutch the back of a chair or something.   I went to Haymitch for help but he chose last night, of all nights, to go on a bender. I couldn’t get one sensible word out of him.”   “Sometimes a jug of cold water thrown over him helps,” I say absently, still stunned over the news of Peeta and Lace’s breakup.  Despite myself, a kernel of hope takes root in my heart.  Could the breakup have been over me, even just a little bit?  But then just as quickly, I squash it down flat, stomp it back down into the earth, and bury it deep.  Fool!  When will you learn? My gaze settles on his house across the street, only a very short distance away, and I wish I could be there with him.   I feel bad that I wasn’t, but I know I wouldn’t have been wanted even if I had. He has enough to deal with without adding his current awkwardness with me to the mix.  How can you feel right accepting comfort for heartbreak, when the very person who’s doing the comforting is heartbroken over you?    I’m very grateful that Johanna is taking care of him, but I can’t help feeling jealous too. She gets to be the one to protect him, when it used to be me.   Johanna’s voice snaps me back to attention. “So, I got on the phone to Aurelius and told him what happened.  He said emotional stress exacerbates his condition and to increase his meds.  Which I did, but he still kept on having them. A couple of hours ago I slipped some sleep syrup into his tea, so he could get some rest, and he’s now sleeping it off.  I don’t want to be gone too long on the chance he wakes up.  Although I did give him a big dose.” If it was the same as I gave him in our first Games, he’ll be out until at least noon tomorrow.  “How did you get him to drink it?  He would have noticed the sweetness.  He doesn’t take sugar in his tea.”   “I think he wanted to be knocked out,” says Johanna.  “He was exhausted.” “Do you know who broke it off?” I ask. It seems to me that it must have been Lace since he’s taken it so hard.   “No.  I couldn’t get him to talk much.”  She lets out a breath and shakes her head.  “What a mess! The reception will have to be cancelled, though I doubt he’ll get his money back at such short notice.  And what he’s spent on clothes for himself and the wedding party.” That’s news to me.  Surely Peeta wasn’t paying to outfit the entire wedding party.  Who was to be in it, anyway?  And then it dawns on me.  Of course, friends and family of Lace.   “At least there’s one blessing, Lace’s relatives are still in 8 so he hadn’t yet paid for hotel rooms for them all.  He’d booked the best rooms for them too.”  Johanna rolls her eyes at this.   I narrow mine.  That bitch! And after I had warned her not to encourage Peeta’s extravagant spending on this wedding.   “Do you think he’ll be alright?” I ask.  “He’s already gone through so much.” “Yeah, I think so,” she answers.   “He’s had a lucky escape if you ask me, although it might take a while for him to see it that way.  That relationship always seemed off to me – like they were trying too hard.  I would have given it a year if they’d married.  Eighteen months, tops.” “Maybe,” I say uncommittedly.  I don’t know if I agree.  What I do know is that Peeta would have given it everything he had to make it work.  And if a mutual love of swimming pools and dining out at restaurants is a good foundation for a marriage, then they had it.  They both wanted kids too and that’s something I can’t promise him.  Peeta would be a wonderful father. If anyone is to be a parent, anyone can see it should be Peeta.   “So, is it serious between you and Marcus? Because you might have a shot with Peeta now,” says Johanna. “No!” I burst out, and Johanna’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the ferocity of my response.  “I don’t have any chance with Peeta, none at all, so you can give that game up right now.  He knows how I feel about him.  He guessed from something Haymitch told him and he’s been avoiding me since.  And I’m tired, Jo.  Tired of getting my hopes up and then having them dashed.  I’ve spent the past year trying to remind him what we were to each other, and failed.  But the simple truth is that, if he loved me, he wouldn’t have got with Lace in the first place. I’m not . . . I just don’t want to go there anymore.  I’ve had enough. ” “Wow! That was extreme,” Johanna says, shooting me an incredulous look.  “I thought the mission was to help Peeta find himself.  Which would also include regaining his attraction to you.  I assume then that you’ve given up?” “Not given up.  Faced reality.” I say.

“Humph!” snorts Johanna, unconvinced.  “Well, it’s your call but before I let it go for good, I want to tell you a theory I’ve been working on.  Just don’t say anything until I’ve finished.” “Alright, go ahead,” I say wearily, scrubbing at my forehead.  Johanna will do what she wants to anyway. “Well,” she starts, with the air of someone telling a story to a small child, “it involves this man – let’s call him Peeta – who had his mind shattered into a million pieces by an evil troll – we’ll call him Snow – and when his mind was put back together again, some of the pieces were in the wrong place.  And his love for his teenage crush – Katniss, we’ll call her – had gone AWOL and had been replaced with a conviction that she had never loved him, and never could.  And then along comes this other woman – known as Lace, although it’s not her real name – and even though she’s a giggling idiot, she knows how to pander to his ego - which is in the toilet, by the way - with lavish displays of admiration and affection.   “But then one day, he wakes up, and realizes that what he loved about Lace, was really his own needs reflected back at him. And also that she was a lying deceitful bitch.  At the same time, he’s come to realise that it’s Katniss he really loves, but he thinks that not only has he ruined any chance he might have had with her by being with Lace, she’s now with another man, who not only likes the things she likes, but has two legs, no burn scars and isn’t a mental mess.  So, to be fair to Lace, he breaks it off with her, and to be fair to Katniss, he leaves her alone to live her life.  But then, the whole situation becomes too much for him and it brings on flashbacks, one after another, in rapid succession.  It’s fortunate that a loyal, resourceful, amazingly intelligent friend is there to give aid.  She then tries to talk sense into Katniss, which, as usual, is a waste of time.  But she tries anyway, hopeful that one day, something might get through to that brainless head of hers.” “That last part was completely unnecessary,” I say.  There’s no gain in rising to Johanna’s barbs, any more than there is to Max’s teasing. They really are alike.  Maybe that’s why they fight.   As for her theory, it does have some plausibility, but it’s still mostly wild speculation. “Is there something you know that I don’t?” I ask.  “Or did you make that up?” Johanna shrugs.  “I made it up.  But you have to admit it makes sense.” I roll my eyes at her.  “For you, maybe.” We sit in silence for a few moments until Johanna slaps her thighs and gets to her feet.   “I should get going now, just in case.  I don’t want him waking up to an empty house.  Oh, and Katniss, if you’re going to fuck Marcus, you should do something about birth control.  Sex has consequences, you know.” “Yes, I do know that.  My mother is a healer, if you recall.  I know how to take care of myself.”  What I don’t tell her is that in 13, all female military recruits were given five-year contraceptive implants before they were sent into action.  Johanna wouldn’t know this because she failed the final test having succumbed to her phobia of water, a consequence of her torture in the Capitol. Something I’m sure Johanna wouldn’t like to be reminded of.   Before she leaves, she says, “I’ll keep you posted, and I think you should visit once things settle down a bit.  He needs to know he’s not alone.” I nod because it’s easier than arguing.   I’m pretty sure that Peeta won’t want to see me.  It might even bring on another flashback.   I watch Johanna walk over to Peeta’s house and close the door behind her.  And then I open the door of my own house to where Marcus is waiting.  He’s set out a platter of cheeses, pickles, carrot sticks, crackers and fruit.  And some kind of spread that he made from a can of chickpeas he found in the pantry. There’s also a plate of Peeta’s cookies and a pot of tea.   “Peeta again?” asks Marcus.  He pours out two mugs of tea and sets one in front of me. “How did you guess?”  I hope we weren’t speaking so loudly that it could heard from inside the house.  The dining table is not far from a window. My face reddens at the thought, especially since there was talk about Marcus and fucking.   “Because whenever you and Johanna have one of your private talks out there on the porch, it’s about him.  I hope everything’s alright.” He makes a plate of food for himself while he’s speaking, his expression unreadable.  I get the impression that he’s well and truly over Peeta Mellark.   I come straight out with it.  Word is going to get out anyway.   “Peeta and Lace have split up. The wedding’s off. Peeta is . . .” I pause here.  I don’t want to give too much of Peeta’s mental state away.  People, Marcus included, already think he’s unstable.  “Peeta’s very upset about it,” I end up saying. His hands still for a moment, poised as he cuts a slice of cheese to add to his plate.   “That’s . . . unfortunate.  I suppose it had something to do with the incident at the pub last week?” “I’m not sure.  Probably.”  I don’t really know, but Johanna said something about both of them lying, so I think it’s safe to assume.  “Johanna wasn’t very clear about it.” I take a cracker from the platter and nibble on it.  My appetite seems to have dried up for some inexplicable reason.   Something is wrong, and I don’t know what it is.  The air almost crackles with it.   “How do you feel about it?” he asks, eyes intent on mine. I don’t answer immediately, unsure of the motive behind his question.  Is he asking my opinion on the break-up – whether I think it was good thing, or a bad thing?  Or is he asking how it’s affected me emotionally?  I decide the first option is the safer of the two.

“It’s sad.  They seemed very compatible.  But I guess if you don’t have trust in a marriage, then it’s unlikely to work in the long run, so perhaps it’s for the best.”  I shrug my shoulders slightly to simulate indifference and sip my tea. “It’s hard for me to comment exactly, without knowing the details,” I add. “The devil’s in the details,” he says, almost distractedly. “But you’re right about trust.  No relationship can be successful without it.”   And then he returns to his food, and nothing more is said about it.  But something’s not quite right.  The only thing I can attribute it to is the news of Peeta and Lace’s cancelled wedding. Perhaps he thinks our relationship is at risk now, when nothing could be further from the truth.  There’s no chance that Peeta and I will get back together. Lace out of the picture won’t change that.   Later that night, after a quick shower, I pull from my closet a filmy negligee the colour of apricots.  It was part of the wardrobe Cinna designed for my wedding to Peeta.   I never got the chance to wear it, nor the matching nightgown, so light that it’s almost transparent.  I trail the gauzy fabric through my fingers, noting how fragile it is.  It would be so easy to rip from neckline to hem, that it makes me wonder if that’s its intended purpose.  My mind can’t help but imagine how Peeta would have reacted to seeing me in it.  Or how he would react if I showed up at his house right now, with only this sheer, flimsy garment to cover my naked body.  Probably it would send him into a flashback that he’d never come back from. I take a critical look at myself in the full-length mirror.  The soft orange complements my olive skin and my hair, freed from its braid, ripples down my back in silky waves.  My body is slender and small breasted, but still feminine, the waist curved and the hips rounded.  My nipples stand out in hard peaks against the gossamer thin fabric and the dark triangle of my pubic hair is clearly visible.  I turn my back to peer over my shoulder.  My best asset, my “derriere”, as Effie would call it, is high and round.  The burn scars, most prevalent on my back, are barely noticeable now, thanks to the skin treatments, except for a few spots where the skin looks slightly melted.   Not too bad, Everdeen.  Not too bad at all.   My feet are silent on the carpeted floor to the guest room.  I rap lightly on the door and he tells me to come in.    He’s toweling himself dry but he stops the instant he lays eyes on me.  And when the towel drops to the floor, forgotten, I see that I’ve achieved the exact response I was hoping for. The love-making this night is wild and uninhibited.  It dawns on me that Marcus had been holding back, perhaps in deference to my virgin status, but now that’s abandoned.  My theory about the nightgown proves correct.  Marcus rips it right down the middle and then slips it off my shoulders in one movement, taking the robe with it.    I didn’t know that humans could make love like animals, with the male thrusting from behind. I’d always assumed it was face to face like the illustration in the tattered text book we were provided with in the meagre sex education classes at school.  But I love it, so animalistic and exciting, the way he pounds into me, his hands holding my hips firmly in place.  The way I can’t help but arch my back to welcome him in with every thrust.   But after our passion is spent, my thoughts return again to Peeta.  How he’s feeling, how helpless I am to help.    I try hard to recreate the magic of the concrete house by the lake, where I could lie in Marcus’s arms, warm and snug and drift into a dreamless sleep.  Because I know instinctively, that the nightmares will return tonight, as bad as ever.  If only Peeta had never come back to 12.  He would have got the treatment he still desperately needed if he had stayed in the Capitol.  He wouldn’t have met Lace, and she him.  And as for me, I was resigned to the fact that I had lost him and I know now that I would have recovered from my depression eventually.   His return simply sparked a false hope that I’ve been battling ever since. So here I lie, in the arms of a man who is as close to perfect as you can get, and my head is full of Peeta Mellark.

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Allegiances || Chapter 20 || Chapter 21 || Chapter 22 || From the Beginning >>

Chapter 21

The next morning was crisp and touched with a chill that Mistyfoot hadn’t felt in a while. As she stood and stretched her muscles, she relished it, recalling the clinging heat that had permeated the forest back home and how miserable that had been. Has the drought fully ended there, I wonder?

She wasn’t the first to awaken – Stoneheart and Crowpaw were up and alert, grooming themselves and chatting quietly. Mistyfoot blinked in shock at how easily Crowpaw seemed to fit in to the group now. Nowhere in the forest, beyond a Gathering, would a ShadowClan and WindClan cat talk to one another so readily.

Mistyfoot felt her belly rumble, but she wasn’t starving, not after yesterday’s big meal. Still, Nightpaw and Stormfur were perusing the prey pile, picking at its remnants for anything still worth eating. Just a few steps away, Shadepaw was burying the bones of the prey they’d eaten the night before, speaking reverently to StarClan over the remains.

We’re like a Clan, Mistyfoot thought. The group had only been traveling a pawful of days, but they had quickly come together through trial and tribulation and necessity. A warm feeling spread in Mistyfoot’s chest – was this StarClan’s intent?

Still, some part of her feared that closeness. There were good reasons the Clans kept to themselves for the most part. The warrior code demanded loyalty to one’s Clan above all.

“Share?”

Mistyfoot blinked out of her own thoughts. Stormfur was standing before her, one of the mice they’d caught together yesterday in his jaws.

He laid it at her paws. “It’s a little cold, but it’ll do for the first part of the day, at least,” he reasoned.

Mistyfoot nodded in agreement. They bent their heads together and shared the mouse meat between them. When their muzzles brushed, Mistyfoot felt a shock of electricity course through her pelt. She pulled away, perhaps a little too quickly.

Stormfur didn’t seem to mind. “Feathertail is sleeping in, I think,” he decided.

Mistyfoot glanced over at his sister, glad for the deflection. The silver tabby she-cat was still curled up in a tight ball, twitching in her sleep. “Should we wake her?”

Stormfur glanced up at the gray dawn. “Not just yet,” he decided. “Everyone else is still shaking off sleep, after all.”

Mistyfoot’s gaze lingered on Feathertail. The silver tabby had been quick the change the subject away last night, even though she’d been the one to bring it up in the first place. She was a puzzle – eager and kind, but there was something deeper that she was having a hard time hiding. Mistyfoot could not forget just how swift she had been to believe Mistyfoot’s dreams, not to mention how she had dodged every question Mistyfoot asked about why Stormfur had come along.

“Is Feathertail okay?” Mistyfoot asked quietly. “Did something happen in RiverClan?”

Stormfur’s eyes clouded. The big gray tom looked down at his paws, and Mistyfoot guessed that he was fighting with whether or not he ought to tell her the truth. “Being half-Clan is hard,” was all he said in the end. “We’ve all got our reasons for coming along.”

Mistyfoot swallowed. “I’m sorry for pressing,” she said.

Stormfur touched his muzzle to her ear. “Feathertail would claw my ears off if I told,” he said. “Otherwise, I would never dream of keeping secrets from you.”

Mistyfoot blinked at him, the warmth in his tone chasing away the chill in the air.

“Oh!”

Feathertail’s mew cut through the quiet murmurs of the other cats. Mistyfoot’s ears pricked as Stormfur padded away to stand beside his sister, who was awake – Feathertail’s eyes were wide, and she looked as if she’d woken with a shock.

“I saw it!” she mewed, quietly at first. Her eyes locked with Mistyfoot’s, wide and dazzled. “Mistyfoot, I saw it!”

“Saw what?” Shadepaw wondered.

The group gathered around Feathertail, ears flicking and tails twisting in curiosity. Mistyfoot blinked at Feathertail, confused. The silver tabby she-cat got to her paws and shook out her pelt. She looked at them all eagerly.

“I saw the lake!” she proclaimed. “The same one that Mistyfoot saw – a big stretch of water, all filled up with stars!”

“Really?” Stoneheart breathed, his eyes wide.

Mistyfoot’s heart raced. Her dream of the lake had nagged in the back of her mind, a worry that perhaps this was a wild goose chase after all. But Feathertail saw it too, and validation filled Mistyfoot from ears to toes.

“Did anyone else have a dream last night?” Shadepaw asked, her tail flicking.

Stoneheart shook his head, and Crowpaw only grunted.

“Did you learn anything new?” Nightpaw asked Feathertail, his eyes sparkling.

Feathertail shook her head. “No,” she answered, “but I did hear the prophecy again.” She looked up at Stormfur. “It sounded like Brambleclaw,” she added sadly. Stormfur touched his nose to her cheek.

“It’s better than nothing,” Crowpaw decided.

Shadepaw nodded. “It must mean we’re on the right track!” she said. “StarClan is still watching us!”

“Then we should keep moving!” Stormfur purred, looking up from his sister. “There’s another Twolegplace ahead; I want to get away from it as soon as possible.”

“Crowpaw, do you know our heading?” Stoneheart asked.

Crowpaw nodded, raising his chin. His tail flicked. “The Father points that way,” he meowed.

Mistyfoot followed the direction of his tail. Like Stormfur had said, there was a Twolegplace ahead, and regrettably it seemed like the Father was pointing them in that direction. This Twolegplace was bigger than the last, and after what happened before Mistyfoot wasn’t encouraged by the idea of this one.

We’re closer than before, though, Mistyfoot thought, looking over the group. Her eyes rested on Stormfur, who was so comfortably leading the way. We can do this, together.

———————————————————-

“Well, I thought we could sneak by,” sighed Stormfur. The big gray tom turned to look at the others. “Seems like this place goes on forever, though.”

“That’s all right,” Shadepaw offered. The small she-cat looked nervous. “I’m sure we can do it.”

Mistyfoot frowned. The Twolegplace was looming not far ahead – but what had stopped the group was a thin Twoleg fence, penning in some more sheep. From Crowpaw’s sharp eyes, it seemed like that from here on it was paddock after paddock until they hit the Twolegplace proper.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Stoneheart meowed. Regrettably, the posts of the fence were thin posts of some hard Twoleg material – tall and impossible to grip with claws. Between them were strings of more Twoleg stuff, with sharp, spiky bits at regular intervals. “I’m sure there’s a way around this mess.”

The big gray tom padded up to the fence and gave it a sniff. “It’s like some of the fences around the Carrionplace,” he decided. “Those little spiky parts can rip out an unsuspecting cats’ belly.”

Mistyfoot grimaced. Feathertail’s eyes widened. “Is there any way around it?”

Stoneheart nodded. He padded up and down the lengths of the fence, sniffing occasionally. Mistyfoot felt worry prick her pelt. How many times had Stoneheart had to deal with a deadly fence like this?

“Here we go,” Stoneheart decided, a few paces down. He carefully gripped one of the lowest fence strings in his jaws, just between two of the spiky bits. The ground beneath was soft and lower, and when Stoneheart lifted upward, there was enough space for even Stormfur’s fluffy body to squeeze through. “Hurry!”

Nightpaw, Shadepaw, and Crowpaw squeezed through first, with ease – they were the smallest of the group. Mistyfoot went next, nerves making her legs tremble. She felt the barest hint of the barbs against her flank and she shot into the field, bristling.

Feathertail came next, cursing as she left behind a clump of her own fur. Then came Stormfur, who, in an effort not to get stuck under another fence, emerged with dirt-clogged belly fur rather. “At least I kept my pelt!” he chuckled, which made Feathertail bristle.

Stormfur took the fence from Stoneheart, who squeezed through easily. Stoneheart checked his shoulders, and then checked Feathertail’s pelt. He turned to the others and meowed, “Sometimes cats get really sick when they get cut by these fences. It’s best just to not let it happen at all.”

Shadepaw blinked. Mistyfoot wondered if she was aware of the sickness that Stoneheart was talking about – but she gave nothing away, only nodded in understanding.

“That was easier than it seemed!” Nightpaw assured, waving his tail.

“Only because you’re the size of a mouse,” Crowpaw grunted.

Nightpaw gave him a playful shove. “I’ll bet supper that I can cross these fences better than you!”

“Nightpaw!” chided Shadepaw.

“You’re on,” Crowpaw decided, muzzle curled.

Shadepaw bristled. “Both of you! I swear!”

Mistyfoot’s whiskers twitched in amusement. At least Nightpaw seemed eager to make things entertaining, rather than succumbing to worry like the older cats seemed to be.

Stormfur led the way across the paddock, avoiding the sheep that were grazing off of the dewy grass. When they reached the other side Nightpaw practically slid underneath the fence, with Crowpaw following.

“One down,” Stormfur sighed as the rest managed to slip through. Shadepaw chased after Nightpaw and Crowpaw, chastising them for the risks they were taking. Stormfur’s whiskers twitched. “Too many more to go.”

“Maybe we can go around once we’re through these sheep fields?” Stoneheart suggested.

“Maybe,” Feathertail agreed. Her tail swished close. “I really don’t want to go through that Twolegplace.”

Mistyfoot grunted her agreement. Crossing sheep fields were one thing – trying to wrangle this many cats through Twolegplace, with all the noise and dangers, was entirely another. No amount of experience could prepare any Clan cat for what lay inside the stone walls where Twolegs tread.

The group kept on track, covering the length of ground between paddocks with ease and good conversation. The day began to heat up, so they took refuge underneath some trees near sunhigh to beat the worst of the heat. Crowpaw and Nightpaw immediately began to wrestle, battering one another with their paws in a friendly practice duel.

It was all fine until the wind changed.

The smell crossed their noses, thick and strong – fox.

Suddenly the earth beneath the trees erupted with the barking snarls of foxes. Three of the russet-colored creatures emerged from their den below the trees, narrowing angry, beady eyes down their pointed snouts at the warriors.

“Up the trees!” screeched Stormfur.

Immediately the cats scattered. Mistyfoot’s claws dug into the nearest tree and she pulled herself up, her heart beating in her ears. She crouched on a branch, trembling as the entire tree shook with the force of the foxes throwing themselves against the trunk.

Stoneheart and Feathertail were just a branch above her. Feathertail whimpered every time the foxes barked. Stormfur had managed to get himself up one of the other trees. Shadepaw was with him, helping Crowpaw up to her branch.

“Nightpaw?” Mistyfoot called. “Nightpaw, where are you?”

There was a yowl of fear.

Mistyfoot’s heart clenched. She turned her head. Nightpaw was trying to make his way up the tree with Shadepaw and Crowpaw and Stormfur – but his claws couldn’t hold the bark.

“Come on, Nightpaw!” Stormfur called.

“Please!” Shadepaw cried. “You can do it!”

The foxes surrounded the tree, barking and bristling and slavering as Nightpaw began to slide. One of the foxes leaped up and grasped its jaws around Nightpaw’s legs, pulling him down with a screech of pain. The red-furred creatures surrounded the small black cat, only his tail poking through the mass of them.

Mistyfoot sprang.

It felt as if she were floating outside of her body. She watched herself fly off of her branch and land down below, heard herself scream in defiance at the creatures. Her mind flashed back to Snakerocks, to Shrewpaw and Nightpaw cowering in the face of the badger. She shoved her way through the foxes and rounded, bristling and snarling, Nightpaw beneath her.

I lost one of you, I won’t dare lose the other!

#tb au #tb midnight

[minsugapie]

The Eve: part 4 (1930 words) - Kim & Do Development

• • • • • •

Lumi is down on her luck. After graduating university with a business degree, she has yet to secure a career in that path, reluctantly working and living at an old motel instead.

Kim Jongin is on the run. He’s been framed for embezzlement, and someone faked his death while he was out of town. With only a handful of bills and a false identity, he had been only able to survive for so long until breaking down in front of an old motel, hoping that whoever found him wouldn’t report him to the authorities.

• • • • • •

prev // current // next

masterlist

• • • • • •

oop and here it is...ok but like damn kyungsoo is fine af

• • • • • •

“…Mr. Do,” Kyungsoo finally heard what was coming out of the phone he held to his ear, Sehun on the other end. He’d been distracted lately, and he didn’t like it. 

Kyungsoo was walking around his office, thinking about nothing important. He should have been trying to figure out what his next plans were. But there was only one thing that he was able to focus on as of lately—the love of his life.

His longterm girlfriend broke up with him when she found out that Jongin had “died”. Apparently, that bitch had previously hooked up with Jongin and was trying constantly to get with him. That’s why she dated Kyungsoo in the first place. 

She was only using him for sex and companionship as she waited for her Jongin to see her again. Now everything that he’d done to Jongin felt like it was worth it after the love of his life left him and said she never loved him.

He should have been feeling a little better because he’d finally managed to do what he’d wanted for a while —practically an ex-communication of his business partner. But something felt off.

Jongin didn’t know it, but Kyungsoo knew exactly where he was. It worked out in his favour, however, because seeing him suffer like that was better than anything. He hadn’t actually wanted to kill him, because that would have been too easy. No, he wanted him to know what it felt like to have to live in the shadows and not have it easy. 

When Kyungsoo met Jongin in university, they’d hit it off, but Kyungsoo quickly thought there was something about Jongin that was just too perfect. He was just too nice. Even to this day, he couldn’t even put his finger on it. 

So he guessed that the fact that he started a business with Jongin was on him. It was his bad. But, what better way to bring it all to light than frame him for something? Kyungsoo needed the money for his family’s old medical bills. In fact, that was the reason for wanting to start business with Jongin anyways…there was absolutely no way that he wasn’t going to be famous. He was famous before they’d graduated. He’d come from a family of business people. He was successful before he was even successful.

And Kyungsoo needed money. More than he made. So he took some from the business, and when people started getting suspicious, he pinned it on the partner.

“Repeat,” Kyungsoo replied into the phone. Sehun had been tailing Jongin for the last week, even taking the last of his money and beating him up a bit. Jongin had been eating less and training less, so of course Sehun would be able to beat him up.

“Jongin’s being taken care of,” Sehun repeated. Kyungsoo noticed that his voice sounded a little timid, probably worried what he was going to say.

Kyungsoo’s attention was fully on Sehun now. 

“You mean he’s found someone who doesn’t know who he is?”

“I mean, maybe, but either way she’s been going in and out of the room with supplies and food.”

“It’s a woman? Interesting. Well follow her. Figure out who she is and if she’s a threat to us. We can’t have anyone giving away any information,” Kyungsoo sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Jongin finding someone to take care of him had never been in the plan. Heck, he was surprised that he’d even let himself be vulnerable in front of someone when he was in this situation. Actually, he’d never let himself be vulnerable in any situation, ever. 

“10-4. I’ll call you in a few days.”

“You better have some good information for me,” Kyungsoo threatened. Sehun was only with him because he had debts to pay off. He just happening to be in the wrong place at the right time. Kyungsoo made sure to remind him of his place every once in a while. 

• • • • • •

Sehun hung up after Kyungsoo’s last words. He decided that the best way to get to know this girl was to book a room at the motel. Jongin wouldn’t know who he was because of two important things: he started working for Kyungsoo after Jongin was framed, and he wore a mask when he beat him up the last time. Regardless, it would be stupid for him to leave the room. 

Parking his car out front, he made his way into the front office, but not before lingering beside the room Jongin was in first. The curtains were closed and it looked like the lights were off. It seemed like nobody was there. It really was the prefect place to hide. 

The girl was sitting behind the front desk, almost falling asleep in her book when he walked in. Sehun really couldn’t blame her. The motel seemed run-down and old, yet still clean. Paint was cracking, furniture was dated, but there wasn’t a spec of dust in sight. There were two cars parked outside, excluding his own, so it was dead, but not completely out of business. 

The girl’s head lifted at the sound of the bell on the door, posture perking up at the sight of a customer. 

“What can I do for you?” She asked, putting aside the book that she was reading. 

“I’d like a room, please,” Sehun replied, never taking his eyes off the lady. He had to admit that she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair framed her face as she looked at him with a warm smile. He wondered how Jongin was able to get her to help him after the found out who he was. Maybe she just didn’t know who he was?

“How many nights do you plan on staying?” She followed up, taking a key off the wall behind her, getting ready to jot his name down in the book. 

“We’ll start with two. Would it be possible to add more if needed?” He smiled at her, putting all his charm into his words to see if she was swayed at all by handsomeness. It was something that had always helped him out. He had a cool, calm personality and he knew exactly how to control the emotions of those around him when he wanted to.

“Perfect. We can definitely add more if you need. I just need your name and credit card number for the records, so if you could get those out for me, that would be great!” Her answer was diplomatic and polite, not phased at all by his flattery. 

Sehun shook his head, smiling as he took out his card and ID for her to take down the information. She seemed so nice. It made sense that she wanted to take care of someone in need.  But it made him sad that she’d gotten herself into this situation. While she was writing it down, he asked, “So is there some place good to eat in town?”

She looked up at him with a smile. “Of course! I just came back from there actually! It’s the diner on main street. Tell them Lumi sent you, and they’ll give you the best treatment!”

So her name was Lumi? Sehun thought that Lumi’s smile was contagious. 

If Sehun found out anything about Jongin from Kyungsoo, it was the fact that Jongin couldn’t resist a beautiful woman. So, he was sure to try something with her. “Will do,” he smiled, taking the key from her hand as she held it out to him. He wasn’t even going to go to his room right then. Clearly if she knew the people at the diner, they were sure to know something about her. 

“I hope you have a good supper and a good night, Sehun,” she called as he opened the door to head back to his car. 

The one thought on Sehun’s mind as he drove to the diner was that he was sad that she had to be nice. He wasn’t sure what Kyungsoo planned to do with her once he got the information, but it couldn’t have been too good. He could be a very cruel person. 

• • • • • •

The diner was pretty crowded when he walked inside, realizing that it was prime supper time. He took at seat at the bar by himself and waited for a waitress to take his order. Beside him was an old man who was doing the crossword in the back of the newspaper. He looked up at Sehun almost immediately. “What’s your business in town?” He asked, pushing his glasses back up his nose. 

“I just came from the hotel. Lumi recommended this place,” Sehun dropped her name, wanting to see the reaction it sparked in the people around him. 

“Oh! Lumi sent you! What a beautiful woman, inside and out!” The waitress spoke before Tom could. Sehun nodded his head at her as she placed a tall glass of water in front of him. 

“She seems to be,” Sehun said. “Why is someone like her working in a place like that?”

Tom sighed beside him, taking a sip of his coffee. “She went through a tough divorce after university and is stuck.”

“Oh? She had bigger plans?” 

“She doesn’t like to talk about it…but she wanted to go to the big city. She got a degree in business and had such optimistic plans!” Tom spewed, probably not knowing that he was telling Sehun everything that he would ever need to know. Poor Tom didn’t know what he was doing. “She always told us about this dream of hers to work for Kim & Do Development, but we’re all glad that that didn’t work out…especially considering…”

Sehun’s ears perked at the mention of the very familiar company. So she did know who he was!

• • • • • •

The two days passed before Sehun decided to call Kyungsoo to tell him what he had seen. He’d watched Lumi for a while, seeing how much of a smile she had on her face when she left the room with Jongin or how she brought food back from the diner for him to eat. 

Sehun had spoken to her that morning when she asked if he needed anything for his room. He couldn’t help how pretty and kind he found her. While chatting with her that morning, he’d noticed that she had some slight bruising on her neck that he hadn’t noticed when he checked in. Briefly, he wondered what had happened. 

“Ok, so I’ve found some things,” Sehun told Kyungsoo as he was lying down on the bed at the motel. He couldn’t believe that only a few rooms away, Jongin was probably lying on a bed with Lumi by his side. Who knows what they were getting up to. It was Kim Jongin after all. 

“What are you waiting for, kid, tell me,” Kyungsoo sounded less than amused.

“She’s a business graduate that actually wanted to work for your company. I got Chen to do a background check for me, and apparently she’s not from around here. She was married to a guy named Kim Junmyeon, who went by Suho, but they divorced. Parents are travelling the world in their retirement, but she hasn’t been in contact with them since she ran away to get married. No siblings.”

“Hmmmmm, I didn’t want to have to do anything, but…” Kyungsoo thought aloud on the other end of the phone.

“What are you going to do?”

“Take her, Sehun. Take her when an opportunity presents itself and bring her to the storage lockers.”

#exo fanfiction #exo #exo fanfic #exo fic #exo au #exo smut #exo fluff #exo jongin #exo kai #kim jongin #exo scenario #exo imagine #exo series #exo x oc #exo angst #kai smut #kai au #kai fic #kai imagine #kai scenario #kai series #kai x oc #kai fanfic #kai fanfiction #kai fluff #kai angst #jongin au #jongin fic #jongin fanfic #jongin series

[lastsonlost]

I heard a story about a woman who knew her husband had left her when she came home from work and their Alexa was missing.

The woman put something in the oven and said, “Alexa! Set the timer.”

Alexa did not respond.

“Alexa?”

The woman searched her house. Her husband had packed his bags, moved out, and taken Alexa.

This will never happen to me because I am the kind of woman who will never have an Alexa, because I will never let another woman’s name be said more than my own, in my home. 

Or anywhere else.When my husband and I stayed at The Wynn Resort and Casino in Las Vegas, every room came with Alexa. Two robes, electric blackout drapes, HBO, and Alexa.Alexa was beige and sat on the beige desk and blended into the beige wallpaper. She looked like one of those toads that blends into a desert. You don’t see it until it blinks.

 And then it is all you see. Breathing and blinking and listening and looking at you. Blink.We overheard our hotel neighbor get his wife in the mood. “Alexa! Play Stevie Wonder!”Alexa said, “Playing Stevie Wonder on SiriusXM.”And then: “Alexa! Play ‘My Cherie Amour’!”Alexa said, “Playing ‘My Cheri Amour.’”And then, through muffled cries of passion: “Alexa! Play ‘Very Superstitious’!”Alexa said, “I’m having trouble understanding you. Would you repeat that?”“Play ‘Very Superstitious’!”“Do you mean, ‘Superstition’?”“Yes!”“Ok. Playing ‘Superstition’.”

Yes, during a game of Tune in Tokyo with his wife, our neighbor had a full-on conversation with another woman. Robot lady or not, that is an open marriage. And my marriage is as shuttered up as a beach house in a hurricane.I called housekeeping to have Alexa removed from our room.

No, I did not think my husband would fall in love with Alexa the same way some Japanese men marry their Nintendo virtual girlfriends. But you can never be too sure. These things happen. And Alexa knows all of your man’s things.Alexa is never impatient or sullen or moody or mad. She never gets her period, so she never gets PMS. Menopause and gravity are as hysterical as Chip and Dale. Alexa speaks only when spoken to. She sits at the ready, ready to serve.

You’d call me crazy if I let another woman sit in the corner of my bedroom, all day, every day; never sleeping, or in want of food, water, chitchat, or a toilet; able to summon my husband’s every whim from Amazon like a modern day Barbara Eden in a bottle.“Alexa! Order a cooling eye mask and a box of Nicorette.”“Yes, Master.” Blink.Nuh-uh, no way. I Dream of Jeanie genie, Jeff Bezos robot lady, or Playboy centerfold — they are all the same to me. I ain’t letting none of them in my house. Because it’s my house and my husband is mine. I’m not jealous, I’m territorial.

It’s not that I don’t trust my husband. I trust him.But, it’s like Mama used to say when I started to drive, “I trust you, Helen Michelle, I just don’t trust the rest of the world.” Mama taught me: “Before you get in a car, check the backseat for a crouched murderer; and then check under the car because that’s where murderers like to hide and slice your ankles.”Mama taught me: “Before you get in a car, check the backseat for a crouched murderer; and then check under the car because that’s where murderers like to hide and slice your ankles.”I’m such a defensive driver, I haven’t driven since I was 19. So when it comes to my marriage, I’m a defensive wife.

Im not going to let my husband and thereby my marriage be preyed upon. We’re all human and susceptible to temptation. Honestly, if fold-out Farrah Fawcett came to life in that red one-piece, she’d have my hall pass. Hall passes are imaginary Get Out of Jail Free cards that married people give each other to fantasize about cheating with celebrities or dead people, before they got old or died. But, a fantasy is cheating. 

That’s why you keep it to yourself. My husband and I do not have hall passes.If my husband cheats on me in my dreams, I wake up furious. Or I used to. A few years back, I made it a New Year’s resolution to stop chastising him as soon as he opened his chocolaty brown eyes because, as he has said: he didn’t DO anything.If my husband cheats on me in my dreams, I wake up furious.My husband never does anything. So, I trust him. I just don’t trust the rest of the world.When I went on book tour for three weeks, my husband lost seven pounds and I treated his healthy choices as a personal affront. In my absence, he’d ordered twenty-one lunches and twenty-one suppers from Chop’t Creative Salad Company. 

So, forty-two salads.To me, a salad bar is as foreboding as a sex dungeon: chilly, and laid out with objects that I would never dare handle. I mean, Beets? Jicama? How do you even even begin to peel and cook those things? I imagined a Chop’t lady salad-chopper, clad in a latex apron and stud collar, side-stepping along a smorgasbord of kink, asking in the desensitized tone of a 9–1–1 operator: “And what else?”“Ball gag.”“And what else?”“Anal beads.”“And what else?”“Avocado”“Avocado is $1.99 extra

.”“Ok.”“And what else?” Blink.Ifeed my husband pasta, potatoes, gluten, and carbs. I feed him these things because they make his eyes roll back in his head and he makes a little noise. I like to make him make that little noise, and Lipitor be damned, I will continue to make the food that makes him make that little noise until our hearts burst and we die.And I make spaghetti. My husband has loved and eaten my spaghetti for twenty-some years. He loves my spaghetti and I am quite sure it is one of the many reasons why he married me.

 My spaghetti started out as a jar of Ragu and a pound of ground round; but with age and experimentation, developed into hand-rolled lamb and pork meatballs simmered in a homemade marinara, topped with sautéed mushrooms. Same dish, new tricks. But it’s still my spaghetti. Or as I like to call it: The Usual, Enhanced.When my husband eats forty-two salads while I’m out of town, I get nervous because someone gave my husband something I could have, but didn’t.I asked him: “Do you want me to make salads?”My husband said, “Maybe sometimes.”I asked: “Do you want me to buy a cat-o’-nine-tails and walk you around the living room on a leash?”“What? No. Why would you ask me that?”“Just checking.”After all, we’ve spent half our lifetimes doing The Usual, Enhanced in bed. And for ages, I’ve worn pajamas with my married initials monogrammed on the pocket. Nothing says, Let’s get it on like embroidery. But you never know. 

So, every few years, it’s polite to ask.Because I respect my marriage.To people who are not respectful of my marriage, I am not polite.There are marital lines you should not cross. And as a defensive wife, it’s my place to point them out to you. Usually it takes one comment from me for you to learn where the lines are. Once you identify them, we’ll get along fine; and you can maneuver around those lines like Tom Cruise did in that roomful of lasers in Mission Impossible.A man at our home poker game had the habit of getting up from his seat to rub other men’s shoulders. I was the only woman at the table, and he knew better than to lay hands on me, but when he put his meat hooks onto the bare skin of my husband’s neck, I said, “Get your hands off my husband!”“What?” he laughed.All the men laughed.I said, “Would you massage another man’s wife?”Message received.

Other helpful hints include: Don’t call, text, or email my husband to make social plans, contact me. Don’t give my husband a gift, because I will construe whatever it is as too personal. Don’t talk about my husband’s butt, only I get to talk about his butt. Don’t post a picture of my husband with his shirt off on your Facebook page. No, it doesn’t matter that he was sitting on softball bleachers with six other men who had their shirts off on the hottest day in history. He is half-naked, and that glistening sun-kissed chest is mine, not yours to share.And I ain’t sharing.Those who don’t take my warnings seriously, fall off our Christmas card list. Sometimes, I let them live on in infamy with little nicknames like Baby Fish Mouth and The Drip. I can’t tell you what those nicknames stem from, or what those women did to offend me; because if they recognize themselves in print, won’t my face be red? So, let’s just say, they did something inappropriate in front of my husband. Like commando cartwheels. And then, after I expressly told them not to, cartwheeled again.Not everyone who bothers me is such a femme fatale.

 A femme fatale used to be a 1940’s black-and-white movie actress, who smoked Pall Malls with a cigarette holder and could seduce a walnut; nowadays it’s any woman who’s younger and has a waist cinched like a Go-Gurt. But I’m an equal-opportunity hand-slapper. And no one deserves to get her hand slapped more than a person who tries to bust the chops of my marriage.At a party, in front of me and a bunch of guests, a woman grabbed my husband’s left hand, and asked him where his wedding ring was. In truth, there have been three such women at three such parties. And the only reason any of these women would call attention to a missing wedding ring is to imply that my husband is in the market to cheat. My husband is Greek and thereby wears his ring on his right hand.

 He held up his right hand and showed this woman his ring.The woman said, “Oh.”And then I asked that woman in front of my husband and that very same bunch of guests: “Do you have many women friends?”The woman said, “No.”I said, “That kind of comment is why.”When I told my friend Hannah about this, she said, “I don’t remember what you did years ago, but I figured out real-quick that I wasn’t supposed to say nice things about his suits.”I said, “I probably dumped a bowl of spaghetti over your head.”Hannah said, “No it wasn’t that.”“Did I tell you flat out: don’t talk about my husband’s suits.”Hannah said, “I think you gave me a look.

”Yeah, I can give a rough look. There’s nothing scarier than a happy peppy woman going dark in an instant. It’s like a Raggedy Ann doll foaming at the mouth. You see that once, you don’t ever want to see it again.And Hannah hasn’t. A benefit of never again crossing one of my marital lines is that I am as fiercely appreciative of, loyal to, and protective of our friendship.My friend Ann says, “Your ferocity is how you show love.”I love my husband so much, I tell him: “If you cheat on me, I am going to jail. Because I will murder you. I have no fear of prison. I can be somebody’s bitch in two seconds.”My husband has never cheated on me.

 I trust him because he knows my rules apply to him too.He may compliment another woman’s intelligence, sense of humor, career, and accomplishments; but he may not compliment her appearance. He may hug a female friend hello (upon her initiation), but he may not otherwise touch her unless he’s administering the Heimlich maneuver, which out of respect for me, he has never bothered to learn. He doesn’t need to know the Heimlich maneuver, because I know the Heimlich maneuver, and the latest CPR method, and how to use an airport defibrillator. My husband knows how to dial 9–1–1.A dispatcher asks, “9–1–1, what’s your emergency?”“I’d like a serving platter for our twentieth wedding anniversary.”“And what else?”“Roses.”“And what else?”“Chocolates.”“Soft center or nuts?”“My wife isn’t nuts.”Blink.

#wife #abuse

[rotten-dandelions]

I haven’t posted in a hot minute, but please have a long-short story involving @zoomee-vroomee and my Trailer Park AU. 

Joxter didn't have the energy to turn on the radio when he got in the car; it was 5 pm, which meant he had 5 hours with his family until he had to go to his second job. If he could squeeze in a 30-minute nap in that time, he would be ok. He got off his second job at 4 am, which meant he would have time to run home and shower before needing to get ready to go to work again. It was a harsh cycle; at 29, his body was so worn down the beginnings of a grey streak was starting up on the left side of his head right at his ear. 

But he could handle this, he could handle the back-breaking work of his first job and the blatant racism towards him in his second. What he couldn’t handle, was the stress it was putting on his husband. Yesterday had been hard, he had left work early again because Muddler needed him at home, but he was so tired, he spent the majority of it curled up on his husband's lap asleep. 

He could kick himself for that. He wasn’t supposed to go home and shut down from exhaustion, he was supposed to hold his lover, show him how much he appreciated him and loved him for all the hard work he had done with the kids. But he had failed on that aspect, and he could see it all over his lover's face when he had left for work that night.

His heart sat heavy in his chest; the longer he thought about the situation, Muddler was miserable, it didn’t take a genius to see that. The stress of the children and Joxter’s absence was evident in the way he moved, in the way he smiled and the way the brightness didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

And it was all Joxter’s fault. 

He had to pull over when he couldn’t stop the sobs that wracked his body, he pulled into a parking space on the side of a small building and let himself sob. He was a horrible husband and an even worse father. He rested his head on the steering wheel, his tears hitting the plastic with a soft thump. He was wasting time, he could be home by now, but his body wouldn’t move, and he couldn’t get the tears to stop. 

ביטע

He begged, whispering to himself as his claws dug into the steering wheel. 

ביטע העלפֿן מיין מאַן

He wept in his sorrows, begging for help in ways he hadn’t before. He felt lost and useless; he just wanted to be the best husband he could, the best father, but no matter what he did, the situation never got better, and Muddler remained miserable. 

 היילן זיין האַרץ און העלפֿן מיין קינדער וואַקסן

He sat in silence after that, his sobbing finally quieted down to a manageable level that he could see again. He checked his phone, seeing that he had spent far too long sitting here and wallowing in self-pity. Muddler had messaged him, questions about where he was, and if he was ok. 

Joxter was quick to respond, telling him that he had a bit of a hold-up, but he was on his way home now, and he couldn’t wait to see him. 

”Oh… so you’ll only be home for 4 hours then.”

Joxter couldn’t respond to the text, a new onslaught of tears hit him, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from crying again. This was his own fault, he shouldn’t have pulled over, he should have kept himself in check. 

He had to do something to remedy this, even if it was just today. 

He waited for his second boss to pick up, clearing his throat and wiping as many tears away as he could as he waited for the man to pick up the phone. 

“Hello”

“A-Ah, hello sir, this is Joxaren; I was hoping to talk to you for a few minutes?” 

“Are you calling out?” 

Joxter paused, his heart suddenly in his throat as the fear of what was to come sank into him.

“U-Unfortunately yes, sir. My husband isn’t feeling very well, and I needed to-”

“This is the third time this month, you realize that, right? This is… Let’s see, the 8th time in a two month period that you have called out do to family issues.” 

“Sir... I’m sorry, I just-” 

“No. I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore. You begged me for this job, do you remember that? Told me you needed the extra money to help fund your husband’s surgery, and yet, you don’t work?”

“Please, Sir I’m so sorry, I just need this one night off and I will-”

“I cannot believe this, you’re still trying to get off work?” 

“It’s an emergency, sir, please.” 

Joxter was met with silence on the other end; he hadn’t realized he was crying again, and his body was shaking. He was about to say something else when his boss spoke again.

“I’m giving you this one last chance, do you understand me?” 

Joxter nodded but soon realized he needed to speak to confirm.

“Y-Yes, sir.”

“Deal with whatever issues you need to, and I will see you Monday night, is this understood?” 

He nodded again, but quickly spoke up, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Yes, sir, yes, sir, I understand. Thank you, sir, thank you so much-”

“Save it. You need to prove yourself to me on Monday.” 

“Of course, sir, thank you.”

Joxter hung up the phone then. A shaky breath leaving him as all the adrenalin he had left faded. His boss had given him the whole weekend off. He could spend this time spoiling his husband and spending time with his kids. He would be able to sleep through the night next to the love of his life. 

Joxter looked down at his phone, Muddler had texted him two more times. He glanced over them, questions about his eta, and if he needed to put his food in the microwave. Joxter was quick to respond, telling him he would be home in time to eat and to please save a spot for him at the table. 

He was about to leave when he spotted a flower shop right where he had parked, he checked his wallet, he still had 20 dollars left from groceries, so he decided to go in. Getting something that he could bring back to his lover. It wasn’t the biggest bouquet of flowers, but each one he had picked out was how he felt for his lover, and he hoped they would ease Muddler’s heart a little. 

He arrived home right when Muddler was finishing setting the table. He could see through the front door and into the kitchen, three small kits were helping get silverware put out, even though they couldn’t quite reach the table yet. 

Joxter gathered the flowers behind his back. Walking up to the front door and opening it, calling out to his family that he was home. He was met with little hands grabbing at his legs, and “welcome home, daddy!” rang through the house. He smiled at them, bending down to kiss each child on top of the head before sending them to wash their hands before supper. He took that moment to stride over to his lover, who was anxiously looking at the clock on the wall. 

He felt terrible that Muddler was worried about the short amount of time they would have, but he was quick to gently take Muddler’s chin, turning his husband's attention back to him, a smile on his face as he kissed his lips. 

“Don’t worry about that right now, I brought you something.” 

He handed him the flowers, his eyes shining as Muddler looked over the bouquet. The center was roses, signaling his love for his husband, they were tucked in the center as the outside was a mixture of red and pink Camellia indicating Joxter’s longing and the flame that was Muddler in his heart. The last flower was honeysuckle, the representation of their bond as lovers and husbands. He was slightly proud of himself for remembering the meaning of these flowers, it had been a long time since Muddler had taught him what different flowers symbolized.

“This is what took you so long?” 

That wasn’t what he had been expecting.

“We have five hours together each day. And you chose to spend two of them getting something that is going to die in a week? Why couldn’t you have just come right home?” 

“I…”

“Are you just desperate to spend as much time away from me as possible?” 

“No! Mouse…”

“Why couldn’t you have just come home?”

“I-I was calling my boss… I don’t have to work this weekend or tonight. I’m all yours.”

“Ok, so now you’ve spent money on this and you're not working, so that means more overtime. Got it.” 

Joxter was at a loss for words. That clawing feeling of anxiety was making its way up to his throat and wrapping around his windpipe, squeezing until Joxter started to see spots. 

“No… No, no overtime, I had enough cash to get these, I thought you would like them-”

“So you couldn’t text me and tell me? You decided it was better to make me wait anxiously for you to make it home before you have to turn around and leave again?”

“I wanted to surprise you…” 

“I just want my husband home.” 

Joxter stood still, his tail had tucked itself between his legs, and his ears were flat against his head. He could feel his bottom lip starting to tremble, so he bit his cheek once more, hard enough that he bled. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Muddler wasn’t looking at him. He sat the flowers on the counter and continued to set the table in silence. Joxter picked up the flowers, going to the bedroom, and placing them on his nightstand as he changed out of his work clothes. He could hear the chairs moving and the kits placing themselves down, but Joxter suddenly didn’t feel very hungry. He didn’t feel anything at all as he looked at the flowers, going over each one and what they meant, just in case he had gotten it wrong. 

But just as Joxter thought, all of them were correct. He had only made a mistake, that was all. A simple one that he should have known better, Muddler wouldn’t want something that would rot in a few weeks, something else he would have to take care of. 

How stupid he had been.

“Are you coming or not?”

Joxter nearly jumped out of his skin when Muddler came into the room, he quickly wiped away the stray tears he didn’t know had gathered in his eyes and gave a smile, following Muddler out of the room and to the table.

“This looks amazing, my heart, thank you so much.” 

“Why are you thanking me, it’s my job.”

Joxter nearly dropped the fork he had picked up, not expecting the harshness from his husband. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, not sure anything he said wouldn’t set Muddler off.

“Now you’re not speaking to me?”

Joxter placed his fork down, smiling at the kids as he did so. Little curious eyes were looking between the two of them, picking up the tension in the room. Joxter was quick to gather them up, quickly calling Mymble and asking if she could watch them for a few hours.

When she agreed, Joxter packed their supper in containers, sending them to her home. He watched from the front door until they made it inside, waving as she shut the door behind them.

“You like her more than me, don’t you.” 

Joxter shut the door, turning to his husband and looking him over. He needed to know what was wrong, the unnecessary meanness wasn’t normal, and Joxter had a feeling this was due to something that had happened earlier in the day.

“Mouse-”

“My name is Muddler. I’m not just a pet for you to enjoy.” 

Joxter swallowed hard, needing to grip the wall to steady his shaking.

“Muddler, did something happen today?” 

“No?” 

Joxter bit his lip, not sure how to ask without sounding like he was accusing Muddler of something.

“What? Suddenly ‘I have all the answers’ Joxter doesn't have anything to say?” 

Muddler was looking right at him, Joxter had never been on the receiving end of such a nasty look. If looks could kill, he was sure he would be dead on the floor now. He tried hard to think of anything he would have done in the past month that would have made Muddler this mad at him when he came up with nothing, he started to panic, his claws digging into the wall he was holding onto. 

“I-I”

“I-I-I-I come on why don’t you just tell me you hate me already!? That you wish I would go away!” 

Joxter was shocked, did Muddler think he hated him? He tried desperately to think of something that he had done that his lover could have taken out of context. The only thing he could think of was when he had fallen asleep for 4 of the 5 hours he could have been spending with his lover. 

“I don’t hate you, I love you.” 

“Then why are you never home?” 

“I have to work my heart… My love, I’m so sorry, I know it’s tough but-” 

“But we will get through it, just a little longer, oh I love you sweet mouse even though I’ve trapped you here and make you take care of the children neither one of us wanted” 

Muddler mocked him, glaring at him with a look of hatred he had only ever seen directed towards Hodgkins. His blood ran cold, and he couldn’t feel the wall he was holding onto anymore. 

“Are you not going to say anything to that? Have no way to defend yourself?” 

Joxter wanted to speak, wanted to beg Muddler to forgive him for everything he had put him through, for their situation, for the hard work Muddler had to do. But he couldn’t speak, his voice had stopped working, and the longer Muddler glared at him, the more he felt their marriage slipping from his fingers. 

“I-I….I’m sorry” A heavy breath, it was getting harder to breathe, harder to think. “I am sorry for… f...for the way you’ve been feeling… It’s m..my fault, and I’m sorry.” 

“And?” 

“A-And… And… If you’re n...not happy, I’m not going to k-keep you here…”

The room was silent, Muddler still looking at him with that same look of hatred, and Joxter felt like one wrong move, and it was all over. He couldn’t stop the tears that this time, his head spun with how hard his heart was beating, and for a split second, Joxter feared he was going to have a heart attack. 

“I l...love you.”

He had nothing else he could say, nothing else to give, and Muddler knew it. He was backed into a corner, no magic solution to their problems, no way to fix the sudden distance between them. All he had was his love, and it seemed that he wasn’t going to be enough. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” 

Joxter was whispering, needing to sit down against the wall or else he would pass out. He had nothing he could do to fix this, he couldn’t quit the second Job, that was the primary savings for Muddler’s top surgery. He _almost_ had enough for it, just a couple thousand more dollars, and they would be set.

“Three months… Three months and I can shorten my hours at the night shift.” 

Muddler was frowning, this wasn’t what he had wanted to hear, but Joxter was trying. 

“Three months, and I’ll have enough saved up for your surgery…” 

That seemed to shock Muddler, the look he was giving him vanished, replaced with one of hesitance. 

“I know how hard the pregnancy was on you, the breastfeeding… I know how much you hated all of it, I-I wanted to save up, to get the surgery for you… It’s taken me a lot longer than I thought, but our insurance doesn't cover it, so it’s out of pocket…” 

Muddler had started crying then, and Joxter tried to get up to comfort his husband, but Muddler was in his arms in an instant, sobbing into his chest and wrapping his arms and legs around him, his tail curling around their middles.

“Mrs. Fillyjonk told me you kept such long hours because you didn’t want to be around us…” 

Relief flooded Joxter in the strangest way; this whole mess had been because of her, and Joxter couldn’t have been more relieved. Muddler didn’t hate him, he was just having a hard time convincing his mind Joxter loved him.

“No, no, no, never. I love you so much… I love all of you more than anything in this world.” 

He kissed Muddler’s head, holding the love of his life as close as he could. He felt terrible for getting tears in his husband's hair, but he couldn’t stop them; he was so relieved that Muddler still loved him he couldn’t control them anymore. 

“S-She said that you hated how my body looks…. H...How I have larger breasts now because of the kids and that you don’t want a woman at home… You want a man…” 

Joxter ran his hand over Muddler’s back, the other placed against Muddler’s head, gently rubbing his head.

“No… No, you’re perfect, my love, You will always be the most handsome man in the world to me, no matter what. Don’t let her insecurities get to you, she’s just trying to hurt you because she is unhappy and taking it out on you. I should have told you in the beginning… I was trying to surprise you, but it took way longer than I expected…” 

Muddler’s grip tightened as he wailed and Joxter held him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He let his lover cry, knowing that by the end of it, he would feel much better than he had before. 

“Love… longing for you, you’re a flame in my heart, bonds of love.” 

Muddler had whispered, but Joxter heard it, a smile coming to his lips.

“You… You remembered what I taught you…”

“Of course, my dearest.” 

“Thank you… I love them… I love them so much.”

#juddler #the muddler #the joxter #joxter #muddler #this is a sad one sorry #the kids here are in fact sniff snufkin and fuddler #snufkin #sniff #fuddler #moominvalley #trailer park au #and if you're wandering #yes #i have made joxter jewish

[lisinfleur]

More Than I Can Stand

Author’s Notes | I hope you like this piece, sweet one! Thank you for the request and participation! Universe | Vikings Pairing | Hvitserk x Wife! Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW5 Words | 2320 ⁑ Warnings: ANGST, cursing.

It wasn't a problem for you to have a sister wife in your life. To be honest, when Hvitserk started to look distant and hiding something, you were the one who noticed his eyes looking at the lovely girl on the other side of the table and speak to him about how unnecessary it was to hide his interest or pretend he wasn't touched by her beauty.

You could still remember how surprised he was by noticing you weren't fighting. Instead, you were friendly to the idea of having someone else in your life and he could say you were even happy with the possibility to have someone to make you some good company when he had to leave for some raid or anything like that.

However, things weren't the way you were imagining. Your sister wife being his favorite, in the beginning, wasn't something you weren't expecting: they were a recent relationship and you even gave them some space for Hvitserk could enjoy his new conquer and slowly bring her into the family.

The problem was the fact that you were the only one wanting a family there. Hvitserk was too mesmerized by Zarah’s beauty and your concepts of freedom to realize how much she was pulling him away from you, swallowing days and weeks by his side while you were being reduced to the one cooking and cleaning for them both. She wasn't who you think she was... Zarah wasn't as open as you were and the sharing of your married life was being tasks for you, husband's attention for her.

And it was starting to get you pissed off.

You could handle she luring your drunken husband into her bed after a raid and having the first night with him after months. But you couldn't accept he didn't come to your room after a whole week!

You could cook a proper supper for three, but you couldn't handle their giggles and caresses at the table while you were completely ignored after trying more than once to be a part of the moment, being subtly cut by your sweet sister wife's good mood.

Zarah was subtle and sneaky like a viper and Hvitserk was completely poisoned before you could realize the snake you brought into your own house. A pair of words and Hvitserk would go with her, not even noticing how long he was leaving you alone.

But this time was the top of the barrel for you. In one of the few nights Hvitserk had spent with you since you allowed her to come into your house, he found a way to knock you up and you were with child. You knew how much Hvitserk wanted to be a father, how long did he tried, and how it would be a precious thing for him.

You prepared a special dinner to give him the great news after going to the midwives to confirm your suspicions. You were happy.

You truly were.

You asked a slave to go after your husband to call him and tell him you had something important to say. But the slave came back saying your sister wife didn't allow him to speak to his master, saying he was too busy to receive him and that Hvitserk said anything could wait.

Anything...

You left the table you had prepared for him with the food over it - his favorite roasted meat going cold untouched while you were into your room putting your things into a bag.

You ordered your slave to pick up every single thing of yours from the house and put it on a chest, preparing the small chariot and saddling the horse, placing your bag in the back of the small chariot.

Your idea was to leave, unnoticed through the night, leaving nothing but a message with one of his slaves telling Hvitserk he could be happy with his filthy viper. You and your child would be far away from their lives from now on.

But your plans were frustrated when the couple came home kinda earlier, and your almost drunken husband, soon-to-be ex, noticed the chariot outside of his house right when you were preparing the cloak over your shoulders to leave.

"What is happening? Where are you going, Y/N?" he came, smiling yet. "You didn't tell me you had to travel."

"It must be something important, husband. We shouldn't prevent her from leaving."

We...

Everything that viper wanted to say was told in that hateful plural as if Hvitserk and her had become something like a single person and couldn't think without one another. You rolled your eyes, but this time, Hvitserk didn't let your mood pass unnoticed: he lifted his hand for Zarah to shut up and held your arm, preventing you from walk towards the chariot.

"Y/N..."

His eyes were apprehensive. He could read you and what he could read was something was really going wrong.

"I"m not going into a trip, Hvitserk. I'm leaving you. That's utterly different," you growled furiously, causing his face to immediately frown in confusion.

"What? Why are you... What the fuck is going on here?" Hvitserk cursed.

But you saw the smile in the corner of that viper's mouth.

She finally got what she was working for. You giggled, disappointed, and your eyes went towards her.

"I brought you into my house. I opened my heart to receive you because I wanted my husband to be happy and I also wanted a companion, someone to be my sister, to be by my side and to share the burden of being the wife of a Viking and a Prince. But you came for nothing but ruin my marriage... You want him, you can have him. I'm tired of this stupid dispute!" you said, grunting when Zarah frowned in a fake surprised expression.

"Why are you attacking me like that, sister?" she mumbled, playing the victim.

But you growled back, infuriated.

"Don't call me like that! You're not my sister! You're a viper who has been poisoning Hvitserk long enough for me to be tired!"

"Enough!" he shouted, causing you to grunt as she was trying to pour some tears from that eyes you would rip from her face if you could. "What are you talking about, Y/N?"

"You heard me. You're blind! She blinded you! Since she came, you spent more and more time away. I can barely remember the last time we spent together! And tonight, I asked my slave to go after you for I had something important to tell you. I hardly doubt you noticed that, for she was the one answering to my slave and I'm sure of this!"

"What?" he frowned even more and you continued, causing him to look at your sister wife, annoyed.

"My slave told me you were too busy and that you said 'anything could wait'. These aren't your words, Hvitserk. But I'm tired of her speaking for you."

"You and I were having such a good time, husband. I didn't want to..." she started, but Hvitserk raised his hand stopping her one more time.

"We'll surely speak about this later. Now go to your room and give me some time. Go!" he shouted.

You would have been pleased by the way she ran into the house like a dog with the tail in between her legs. But you had enough of that even to be pleased by small things like this.

Hvitserk turned his face towards you, still frowned with annoyance.

"I'm glad you know these weren't my words, wife. But what made you believe I would let you leave this way and say nothing?"

"You have been ignoring me so far," you answered, looking into his eyes. "I didn't even think it would be so important for you after all."

"Of course, it would!" he said, trying to get closer. "You're my wife, Y/N. My first wife, the first woman I love. Of course, I would be pissed off to know you left me! Even more this way. Let us come in... Speak to me, my love. What is it you have to tell me? I wanna know..."

You crossed your arms, annoyed.

"When I allowed you to bring another into our house it wasn't for this, Hvitserk. It wasn't for her to steal you from me this way. I wanted us to be a family... This moment was supposed to be a happy moment for us all." you said, mourning your broken plans.

"What moment, Y/N? Tell me... I wanna know. I wanna listen to what you want to tell me. Please, love, don't leave... I love you, and you know that" he insisted, pulling you by your waist into his arms, caressing your face. "I love you, Y/N. Stop this... Tell me everything and I'll make things up for you, my love. I'll make things right again."

There it was, the man you fell in love helplessly with. Hvitserk nuzzled his nose through yours slowly caressing your face with his thumbs on your cheeks. His deep blue eyes into yours when he touched his forehead to yours, softly.

"Will you give me a chance to fix everything for us?"

"I don't think she'll really accept any kind of change, Hvitserk," you said, convicted.

"Whether we'll come up to a consensus and she'll accept the terms and necessary changes or she can leave," he said, surprising you with his words.

It was a fact that he never really married your sister wife, but you never thought Hvitserk was thinking like that.

"She came as a sister for you because I like her, I desire her, and you allowed this to happen and showed me you wanted a sister wife. But you're my wife and nothing will change this. If someone has to leave, it won't be you."

You never thought or saw things like that. Maybe he wasn't that taken by her as you thought he could be.

Maybe you should have talked to him before instead of keeping your silence.

"Come back inside, my love. Let us talk and solve this situation. I don't want you to leave. I love you, Y/N. It never changed and never will. I want to build my life by your side, to have children of yours, our own family. And nothing will be in my way," he affirmed, caressing your cheeks and softly taking your lips into a passionate and long kiss.

When he finished, your anger was pretty down and you nodded to your slave who started bringing your things back into the house.

"Thank you, my love," Hvitserk said, holding you against his chest. "Let us talk and solve this."

"I made you dinner. It must be cold now," you mourned and he kissed your forehead.

"It must be delicious. Cold or not, I wanna eat. And I wanna know what is this you wanted to tell me." Hvitserk said, starting to walk into the house.

And you sighed.

It wasn't the way you planned, but at least things weren't completely ruined after all.

"I'm with child," you said, low, causing him to stop walking at the door to turn himself towards you.

His eyes were large, not really sure of what he heard.

"What did you just say?" he asked, walking back towards you and looking into your eyes, "Say it again... I think I'm drunk and hearing things, wife."

"You're not drunk, Hvitserk. I said I'm with your child," you repeated, watching as the most beautiful of the smiles opened on his lips and he giggled, looking to your belly and then to your face once again.

"Have you saw the midwives? Are you sure, Y/N? We must take you to the town to be sure of..."

"I visited the midwives today. You had left with Zarah to the market, so I couldn't warn you. I went there today morning. I'm sure, Hvitserk. I'm with child and it's about a pair of moons old already."

Hvitserk felt a bitter taste in his mouth: he should have gone with you. And if your pregnancy was already two moons old, then he should have noticed your symptoms. Two moons. It kinda remembered him from the last time the two of you laid together. Shit...

How blind he was becoming?

"My beautiful wife... I have been neglecting you so hard..." he mumbled, caressing your face and lowering his hand to caress your belly. "I have been blind to your needs and I left you alone to favor Zarah over your presence. Can you forgive me, my love?"

You sighed.

His attitude was completely different from what you were expecting and it calmed your heart and your anger towards him. Maybe she had bewitched him somehow and the sight of reality kinda broke the spell on your husband's eyes.

You couldn't say. But you were sure you didn't want that to happen again.

"I can forgive you, my love. But I want things to change. I want you to be more attentive. There is a child to come and I won't accept my child to suffer the way I was suffering for you. If you neglect me again, I'll leave with your child and this time I'll be sure you won't be here to prevent me from leaving." you promised.

"Don't say that," Hvitserk held you.

His heart aching into his chest with the idea of losing you and his unborn child in your belly.

"I love you and I swear on my arm ring I'll change things and fix our marriage for you," he promised, holding you against his chest. "You're the love of my life, Y/N. I wouldn't exchange you for anything or anyone!"

You sighed against his chest, feeling his warmth against you one more time. You would give him a chance to prove his words.

But for the sake of your child, you wouldn't accept a second mistake...

Do you like my work? Support me!

Tagged ones:

|| @bluearchersstuff || @ivarswickedqueen || @directionlessbuthappy || @akamaiden || @bang-kim-bap || @cris101071 || @solveigs-temple || @volvas-temple || @alicedopey || @captstefanbrandt || @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla || @lol-haha-joke || @normatural || @readsalot73 || @shutter-bug124 || @rekdreams247 || @slutforasoldier || @naaladareia || @laketaj24 || @therealcalicali || @grungyblonde || @arses21434 || @honestsycrets || @rabeccablake  || @2thequietone4 || @blackspiritshake || @vikingsbifrost || @sincerelysinister || @x-valhalla || @allvikingsfanfic || @calum-hoodwinked-me || @lyanna-the-giantsbane || @chinduda || @isthat-tyra98 || @hissouthernprincess ||

Want to be tagged? Ask me!

#history vikings #imagine vikings #hvitserk #hviserk x reader #hvitserk imagine #hvitserk ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #hvitserk white shirt #hvitserk’s heathen feast #sister wives #5CW #5CW Event #5CWHvitserk2 #shot

[zebraslovescupcakestoo]

Reporting for justice!

What a night...

I thought to myself after I left the bathroom to clean myself. It was my turn to do night shifts for the next couple of weeks in favor of some who asked to do day time for a bit. Normally, I would have asked to pick someone else but we're only a few who I can trust, especially the new ones, I had to make some sacrifices for now.

Which was something that wasn't new to me.

I'm very thankful that life DID had send me some important people to help me. Even if it's someone you'd never expect to become best friends after high school and used to be in gangs.

I walked down the apartment's resident to see my friend just took out some supper. No, I don't mean Sheba this time. She'd burn water.

It was someone who had red pointy hair, a red beard to match, a navy blue tailor coat and that Scottish accent. That friend is Woody McPecker, an ex-Irish gangster now a reformed journalist.

I settled down on his dinner table that was big enough for two maybe three if you can squeeze small enough.

I can't believed even years from that day, I never expected I'd be friends with someone who used to be in an Irish gang.

If I told you that we actually first crossed eyes in my high school years, you'd say this sounds cheesy like you're eating a grill cheese sandwich that was stuffed with a whole, cylinder, block roll of cheddar cheese. You don't need to taste it if it is actually THE cheese. Maybe too cheesy.

Actually, that's way too overboard with the cheese thing. But the main point was that we crossed path in high school and then we officially met couple of years back when I was in the police academy training.

“There, this should be warm enough to eat. My grandma used to make these back when she was in the homeland.” He then set a plate of Shepard pie for me as he'd probably went to get something to drink.

For a guy who's current job as a novice journalist, I'm surprise he can cook despite that most of his time was the 'eating on the go' type of guy. Although some areas of his apartment might need a bit more cleaning overdue or he's taking a page on my nephew's habits.

But then again, at least his cooking skill can make it to the second course compared to Sheba. No offence, but Sam did asked for her cookies one time and then told me secretly he can use them as treats for his 'friends that didn't like him and us.'

“So tell me, why were you at Bendy's mansion alone? Cat's got too curious?” I looked up to the direction of his voice to see him using a bottle opener for a single bottle of Apple cider. “I thought that you'd agree in front of all of us NOT to go after that dancing demon solo. Your feet would almost be part of a construction material of a bridge if I'd haven't intervened.”

“I know. First of all, I DIDN'T go off alone chasing after Bendy. They were the ones who got me behind my back when I was paroling. Second, how did you know where I was when that happened?” I know he doesn't own a car unless he borrowed one and even if he did, surely they would noticed anyone tailing them to the DeMon's mansion.

He then settled down after he did his bottle and then started to explain. “Let's say according to someone telling me about your shifts, you were doing night duties for the moment and I was just looking out for ya since my job is more time convenient rather than a 9-5 pace thing. Luckily for you, I have gang experiences long before you studied one in the academy. They're may be Italians, but their work of operations were hardly any different than ours if with few exceptions. Like how we used to do mostly dealing 'goods' while they mostly use violence in the underworld scene of Chicago.”

Like I've said, he's an EX-gangster of an Irish mob.

“I'm not here to bust you, black knight. Besides, I thought that we've bonded over some near death experiences we've had previous to this.” He jokingly asked.

“I don't think that you can count almost being shot out of a circus' canon one time from Bendy and Boris as one when they tried to kidnap a white tiger for his skin. Thankfully you and Sam managed to get me out before I blasted off.” I sighed as I took a bite to eat. I haven't felt that scared since I almost fell off of a high pier one time.

“Anyways... how about you tell me what stories were you supposed to uncover this time? I'm sure that it's not about me tonight.” Time convenient or not, Woody knows that he can't put things off anytime he wants.

“You could at least say thank you that I managed to get us out of there safely before Bendy notice we were gone and found his minions knocked out.” He smug a grin.

I can't deny Woody's speed abilities and knife fighting skills. He's like the only person that can mimic Bendy's skills even when his eyes goes red that makes him almost invincible. His stabbing/slicing techniques makes up from his throwing knife skill sets so that one difference. The other was that at least he's now a good person.

This might sound exaggerated, but one time a thug throw a wooden staff at us like a lance and Woody 'stabbed' so fast that all that was left was saw dust. When I say his 'spirit animal' is a woodpecker, I am not joking.

“I never said I wasn't thankful. I am grateful that you saved me. But what I'm worried is that you've haven't published anything lately asides your several pen names for trivial topics. Interviews or life stories are one thing, but big news like what is happening to the world or serious issues is what the journals and people are mostly interested.”

“Bah!” He waved it off. “You worry too much! We should at least be thankful that things are quiet for now so that we can take a breather. You know? You sometimes focus way too much on others that you forgot to think about yourself once in a while. Heck! You might have been in coma for two weeks, then woke up and you'd ask if everyone we're OK when you YOURSELF aren't. Single parent or not, you'd need to learn to take care of yourself a bit once in a while too, ya know?”

I know that I get that for some people who think that I think way too about others than myself, but I have a commitment as a detective police plus two kids to take care of and they both are trouble makers like my sister was at that age. “That would be the same day that the twins would behave and that's not gonna be anytime soon.”

Woody chuckled after he finished his dish. “Felix, those kids haven't reached the double digits yet. It's common for boys at that age to be a bit rowdy. They mostly want to have fun and enjoy themselves. I know cause I was just like that and look how I turned out!” I just stared blank with a 'really?' look.

“Ok! Ok! Maybe I had been on the wrong side of the law before, but I certainly do not harm any innocents and I learn the errors of my ways! I am now a changed good fella!” Woody swore with one hand on his heart and the other in the air. I exhaled and decided to let it go. Yes, I know that he didn't started out as a good kid image, but I do believed that anyone can change if they are willing to try.

“So let's get back to the journalist topic, what stories are you going to do? Is there anything that you might want to ask me for?” I could at least return the favor.

“Now that you mentioned it, I do have some cases that I might need your detective help to solve. Since Bendy boy is going to California for a 'restful retreat' and your cousin not in the states at the moment. We all can investigate together. I know some folks who can look after your kids!”

I stopped him for a second. “Wait! Wait! Wait! Hold up! What do you mean by we ALL investigate together?”

“Oh that? I meant us two with Sammy and Matty. Us four will go investigate on these small but unusual cases.” He clarified, but I had to say this: “Look, I get that things aren't that busy for now, but don't you think that the other two would be busy? Matteo, I would understand if he's not busy on most days, but Sam's...” I didn't have much to say about him for now cause I haven't heard him from the court house lately.

“Oh, he didn't told you yet? He's taken' a little break after winning that big case today. So he's free on most days since he's not gonna work much unless it involves you-know-who.”

“Oh... I forgot about it. It's the big case with that soda fraud. I must have been busy earlier to hear the news.” I was so busy with the kids before my shift that it slipped my mind. Sure, there was a mild case that there were counterfeit sodas during these past few weeks. It's not a major news but the effects is that people were giving money to crooks who gave the cheaper priced sodas from the local markets. The drinks quality weren't as good, they tasted awful and some didn't had that fizz. Some people tried to get a refund, but the 'sellers' weren't there anymore.

“We're glad that you were the one who took the photos of those people as one of the most effective evidence. A good majority of them were caught and brought into questioning.” We did had other evidences that was convincing, but Woody was the one who really saved the day. “Nah! I'm just taking their 'good' angle for when the photos will be printed in the papers tomorrow.” He smirked. “Anyways, back to some cases in question, there are some that us 4 need to go together.”

“So there's a detective, a journalist, a lawyer and a coroner in one group. That sounded like a start of a bad bar joke.” And none of them aren't even funny for a drunk man.

“Stay with me on this. There are some claims that involves supernatural cases.” He took out some case files that were in thin binders, but I set the line there. I had reasons NOT to go in these kind of cases.

“I'm out! Look, I said this a couple of times already, but let me be clear. Just because I have this 'ability' doesn't mean I'm into supernatural cases. I can't afford to do some of this stuff on the side when we're in a middle of the operation 'take down.' There's no way that the chief will approve any ghosts, 'spiritual' mediums or fictional monsters. There's needs to be more than just someone in a costume that's not on Halloween day.”

“That I agree, cause some of these cases had their 'victims' being scammed or harassed. Kinda like that soda counterfeit case where it's not exactly the type of soda, it's brand or the market that sells them. This would require some investigation and prevent more people falling into their traps or stop those people from attacking others in a costume.” He tries to convince me.

On the first phase, I do agree that some people would try and take money from innocent buyers out of products or false readings. The second... I do get that idea of being attacked by an unknown person. That doesn't need any 'scary' costume to frighten anybody in the night.

So I eventually decided to help. “Alright. I'll help if these cases are as serious as you said it is. But I'll need to report any cases that 'we' uncovered and solved.”

Woody shakes my hand. “I knew you'd be there for me, cool cat! Now, here's the first one we're gonna go...”

Another scary night Another spooky fright And you just might be in danger.

Thus began our formation of the 'freelancing' investigation team. A group of people with separate talents that barely had any connections to one another.

The first one was about a group of teenage girls from a prestigious, all girl school reserved for rich or gifted well... girls. The case was that there's a club that specializes fortune telling and connecting the 'other side' jazz that charges not only their classmates a pretty dollar, but some grieving folks that wanted to talk to their deceased loved ones.

Getting a reading wasn't easy considering the 'no boys allowed' in most of the school's properties unless it's a visiting male relative. Woody managed to get one of the members to set us up for a 'seance' session at night when there's fewer teachers on guard in exchange of paid in cash and some photos... of Sam, Matteo and me for some odd reasons...

Look! I'm not saying that we're not all ugly! Just... why?! I mean, Sam's actually a good looking man in his 30's and Matteo had that mysterious Italian vibe going for him. Not to mention they've probably had better pay than I do that might play a hand in it. But why me?! I'm not that- Oh! Never mind! I do not need to know! ANYWAYS! Ohh the ghost is here and it's always a fake The ghost is here and there's no reason to shake The ghost is here, oh give us a break It's fake.

When we've arrived at the scene, we played out as a group of guys who wanted to contact my 'deceased' relative. We picked that story cause we wanted to be as convincingly true. During the middle of a chant-like seance, that the lyrics sounded like something that I've read in a children nursery rhyme, there's a faint image of a ghost that floated in the middle of the circle. The ghost wasn't exactly 'frightening' but Woody got spooked and he forgot to let go of my hand when he ran away in a panic. Dragging me along, we hit a wall that was actually a rotary door that lead to a hidden room with another member that handled a projector. Thus, this ended the investigation. All members of the club were then exposed as a fraud, we reported it to the dean about it and then later, their parents had to send them away to a different school after some either got expelled or suspended for a few days.

We DID however almost got boiled in hot water when we ourselves actually had broken the 'no boys allowed' rule. Thankfully Sam had pointed out the evidence about the money, the people, their projector that was actually the school's property that they 'borrowed' it that we actually need to stop them. The dean then decided to let us off the hook, but we were warned and told to ask her permission if ever we encountered a similar case like this. Another ghoul attack She's breathing down our back So we're making tracks for the exit.

The second case was about a creature called 'Night beast,' original, that haunts a cemetery the past few months. Rumors from chased out eye witness say that during night time they hear someone digging whenever they walked across the area. The ones that did went to 'investigate,' they met with this some sort of a horrid, man-sized bat-like creature and was chased out.

At first, I thought that it was just some sort of a vampire prank, but when I heard some reports of getting slashed, not to mentioned that Matteo felt something of a 'disturbance' among the 'resting' and that he felt like he needs to do something. Oh the ghost is here and it's a crook in a suit The ghost is here and he's protecting some loot The ghost is here, oh give him the boot He's fake.

So we devised a plan. Me and Matteo will be playing as the night visitors for a 'relative' of Matteo to lure them out while Sam and Woody will be hiding to catch out bat of the night with a well set trap.

On that full moon night, me and Matteo walked into one of the tombs to see if our 'guardian' of the cemetery will be in tonight. It doesn't take much steps inside when he broke free from the newer caskets. I took out a hand mirror, upon Woody's request to see if this 'guy' doesn't have a reflection.

Yup, it's some big guy in a costume. Now we run!

It doesn't matter where we go, we know A ghost is gonna show and so We look for the bogus We look for the scam And every time the ghost is a sham.

We make sure that during the day time, we'd memorized the tombstone's placements so that we knew exactly which direction we need to take for us and him to follow. Once we've passed the trees that the others were hiding, Matteo rang a little bell and then they pulled the cord. Thankfully, it worked and now our target is eating dirt and before he realized it, he was tied up very quickly thanks to Woody.

He took off the mask only to reveal he's a small time thief that was wanted from a neighboring state. Not only that he was wanted for stealing jewelry from wealthy homes, but he was also wanted for stealing jewelry from the cemeteries too!

Well, that would explain a good part...

Thankfully, he was then transferred to the neighboring state he was wanted and we manage to find his stash from the newer caskets that he hid and a good majority was returned.

Matteo noticed that we might have knocked over a couple of makeshift flower offerings during the chase. I offered to help him place them with him and we got along fine...

We see an eerie light And if the mood is right Then you just might sight a monster.

We had several others before we came to the last rumor with a 'vengeful,' mutant, fish-man that's frightening most of the seafood sellers from the street markets during evenings. This was personal to me.

Not only does this masked fish-man was scaring off the workers, but there were reports of that 'mutant' stealing their goods!!

At this point in the game, I'm getting convinced that even if this isn't as big as the Alfonzo Mafia case, but taking an important food aliments from small business owners, only to get them in a much more expensive price point from another competitive fish market? This takes the fish cakes!

No one takes a basic human and cat food rights just for a few dollar more! Not on my cat eye's watch!

Oh the ghost is here, it's our frightening task To face our fears and the creep in the mask So the ghost is here, there's no reason to ask He's fake.

We followed the clues, witnesses and a theory that this might be a dirty strategy for the competitors to scare their rivals, take their goods and sell it for a higher profit. Upon sneaking in one of their warehouses where they shipped and stored their goods, we checked for any markings.

We've set up a plan to track down their goods by marking them so that we can find and then prove the guilty people to be held responsible for this mess. This time, I was with Sam in the main storehouse while the others went to find the light switches in the power/control center. We were using flashlights and looked for the recently 'new arrivals' to check if they had the matching numbers that the victims marked.

It's a match. However, that not the only discovery we've made... Our fish mutant is also the security guard!

We both bolted through the isles as it chases us. Sam told me to go corner it in the canned seafood section as he used his hook shot techniques to go up. I get that I'm supposed to lure him there but for what and what is he doing?!

I was then cornered and I was close to that fish mutant within feet from each other. Not that I'm not a skillful fighter, but I've had some troubles with opponents that are almost body builder types like Boris. Not to mentioned that the claws were an addition to a heck-naw! Flair.

Suddenly the lights went on to brighten up the whole warehouse,  it blinded the fish mutant but it's the same for me. All I did was trying to adjust my eyes to the lights and then I heard someone being tackled into the wall of canned sardines. I had to take a few seconds more to see that Sam had taken my handcuffs on this unconscious security guard.

It didn't took a second long before we heard the police siren and soon some officers, which are the ones that I'm familiar with and another high ranking officer to see us. Woody was ready for a picture as we all see that underneath the fish mutant was one of the rival employees that was harassing the local fish marketeers and taking their goods.  

It's been almost a week since that last case we did as a team. Sure, it's not a major news like taking down that notorious Alfonso mafia, but it did brought us quite a praising reputation. We we're referenced as the 'freelance investigation team' according to the public. Woody did a pretty good job as a journalist rather than an officer of the law. I think it was for the best when he decided to do so a few months ago.

We decided to celebrate as to throw a big party at a fun family dinner including the guys, Sheba, Kitty, the twins with a couple of their friends. Just to keep them company asides from adults. It was an enjoyable moment with just us as friends and family get together. I felt like it was like that old times when it was with my father, sister and the twins when they were younger.

Unfortunately, it got interrupted by someone. It was in the middle of a pinball machine contest, where I was holding Inky while Woody was holding Winky so they can be high enough to use the controllers. I felt something smacked at the back of my head as if someone tried to get my attention. I looked to see that my cousin was standing behind me. “I was feeling quite distress that I wasn't invited, my dear cousin. I thought that we we're close... well, I'm the better one but still, we we're so close.”

“What are you doing here, Alex? You weren't invited.” Woody noticed what was going on.

“Aww! Did I ruffled your little feathers, you annoying parrot? Well too bad. I'm obviously not letting 'him' have a goodnight this time. You've been getting too lucky lately, cousin. Have you forgotten that this will not last forever? That there might be someone who, oh, I don't know... MIGHT be in danger while you're 'resting?'” He teased me as to make me feel guilty of taking a night off for this. I grew wary of his attitude ever since he reappeared for more than 2 years. I can take whatever he's throwing at me as long as it doesn't involves those who were close to me, but as much as I want to stop him from smacking my head, I can't break off from Inky at the moment and neither Woody can.

He suddenly stopped when a shadowy appearance entered our situation. “Why hello, dear old 'friend.' I've seen you've recovered from our last... encounter. Did you find another decent job or just a 'temporary' part-time?” Matteo might have spooken one of our nine lives if he's gonna continue like a grim reaper facade. I remembered how Matteo once told me how he and Alex met and almost killed in Egypt, but I've yet to know how Alex got wary of Matteo since. I mean, Matteo had to wear a mask for his eyes thanks to him, but why is he afraid of him now? Have he and Matteo had a second encounter before coming here?

He took a step back but maintained his composure. He knows that he can manage Matteo well cause his melee fighting skills weren't his forte. Awakened or not, he's still not a match for Alex.

Unless someone else who just happens to return from the gentleman’s restroom. Alex only took one step back to hit him and looked up with eyes wide opened. He might have a toe to toe advantage for us three, but Sam's a different story. It didn't take much for Sam to knock him out with a fist on the head. He might not be a boxer, but he can do knock out punches.“Please let me take out this thrash. The waitresses are busy enough with something else tonight.” Sam picks him up from the jacket as they both left... Thank Ra that the girls are in the ladies room at the moment and that it's not crowded tonight. Even the kids didn't noticed but I think it's the fact that they're busy with the game to notice their surroundings. For this time, I'll take it and talk to him next time.

“Cheer up, cool cat. This ain't the time to be pessimistic. In fact, I've got a nice juicy reward for all of us excluding cue tip there.” Woody said before the pinball games were done.

“What surprise?” The twins heard that. Aw, Tuna Fish! Once they heard that, it's almost impossible to change the subject. But that didn't stop Woody to try. “Oh, I'm afraid it's for the adults and there won't be any kids you age there, kittens. But don't ch'a worry! If you both behave really good, you can spend a whole night with Coach Tony and his son!” They both got that sparkle in their little emerald green eyes like they just heard a message from God.

Not only coach Tony is like another father figure to them, but he's one of the kind heart adult that would make every kid included, even if they're not the best. The kids love him and his son too. I think that they almost looked like they're triplets. My kids would probably only be on their best behavior around him more than I can think of.

They soon started begging me to go to the 'adults only' event, so after thinking about it quickly, I said to then only if they behave and to stick to the rules, they can. They hugged me and then they ran over to Kitty and Sheba as soon as they came.

“What's with them?” Sheba asked. “Oh, Felix will tell about it later. He just needed to be informed about what's gonna happened in a couple of weeks. I'm sure we'll be there.” Matteo smiled and Sheba was a bit charmed.

“Ohhhhh! You're so mystique when you say that! Felix! You better give us all the details later!” Sheba told me as they head to the table to get their things as they passed by Sam once he's returned. She and Matteo got along well since... well, our introductions a couple of moths before.

“Alright! Now that they're distracted and that us guys are all here, guess what's gonna be happenin' big this time around here!” Woody reached over my shoulders and Matteo's as to make us closer while Sam just bended down a bit. Judging from their faces, I'm guessing that they've have planned on something. “So! Just to finish our celebration of our teamwork during the random cases, which involves money scams, robberies and harassment, we've been invited to the Chicago's summer ball this year.” Woody announced with a big grin.

What? The annual Chicago's summer ball? That's like one of the big events in the city annually. Normally, only the first class, important business owners, politicians and sometimes big guest stars gather for an evening night club jazz and a garden stroll that's decorated just for the event before reopened for the whole public. Anyone like ourselves would only dream to attend at the event.

“The old mayor gave all of us exclusive VIP tickets for our works and a couple of extras for the girls. We were chosen for each of our talents separately and since this would also be part of my journalist career, it would mean quite a lot to me if we can all go together!” Woody flashed the tickets. As much as this was a very good news, I had to...

“But... I'm not exactly social elite type. Not to mentioned that Bendy and Boris will be there too since they're required to attend AND they never turn down free alcohols and five star meals.” Not to mentioned mingling with top class women who wanted to climb the latter or gold digging their ways... Another reason why I don't like about him is that he uses his money to get whatever he wants. What ever happened to being loyal to one partner for life?

“Bah! I wouldn't worry about that brat and his wolf rug on that night, Félix.” Sam waved a bit. “Animator or mafia boss, even he can't get away with anything on that particular night. There will be guards, photographers and even people that aren't in his favors at the event. Some of it will be in papers and television wide after all and well... there will be too many eye witnesses everywhere.” He's got a good point. Bendy can be maliciously calculating but he knows better than plotting something within these events.

Well, 'inside' the events. If you can count his lower crew members to do his dirty work outside in the city else where.

“This would be my first time attending to such event, si? It would be interesting if it's any different from where I came from and it would ease me if you can come.” Matteo charmed in as if he wanted me to attend too.

“Come on, ya old bugger! Think of it as a free date in a fancy dinner restaurant with special guest stars! Ya girl will love it!” Woody is really urging me to go.

You know what? What the heck! What can possibly go wrong?

----Author's Notes-----

You have NO idea of how long it took me, even in quarantine times, that I wanted to finish this but I was too numb to do so... Like I wanted to do it but I'm lacking of motivation to do so?

So anyways, I decided to redo my second OC of Woody McPecker as an ex-Irish gangster now journalist. I did watched previous years on the war between the Irish and the Italians gang members who wanted a piece of territories in the new world. Long story short, they were at war with each other. So I thought that this would be an interesting concept for someone who's a former gangster, knows the strings of operations in between the gangs and knows their methods of how they work.

So I thought that it would be interesting if there's like a redeeming character like that and hopefully Woody would be a much better OC for this that he was in my Golden Eyes series. I thought that he would be done as an extra but after some thoughts, he would be just fine as a journalist and knows stuff like Sheba's level and my first personal favorite OC, Sam Toucan.

That was inspired by an old Scooby Doo VHS movie back in the 90's and this song inspires it.

I bet it would be neat if this would work out like that Scooby Doo vibes with a larger character casts like that on the official BBTIM AU!

I hope that everyone is doing fine and that hopefully we will see the light at the end of that tunnel, stay safe!

BBTIM Characters belongs to @marini4 and some Ocs belongs to me.

#bendy before the ink machine #humanized #Felix The Cat #Felix #sam toucan #woody woodpecker #OC #fanfiction #marini4

[scentedbygunpowder]

Royai Week, 2019 Day 1—Coincidence Word count: 1,876 Author: Katie/Ally (scentedbygunpowder) Rating: PG Summary: Under stress from being a living hostage for the homunculi and knowing that Pride could very well be watching her every move, Riza Hawkeye spends sometime in the marketplace crowds, hoping to feel less alone, and less afraid.

Coincidence

“Lieutenant?”

Riza looked up from her shopping in surprise and swiveled her head around, looking for the voice. It was only when she saw another woman responding, and smiling at another soldier that was nearby that she realized that her hopes had risen at the familiar word. The man’s tone wasn’t even that close to the one she wanted to hear. She must just be that desperate. She felt her heart fall a bit, before she steeled herself. How silly of her, to think she’d run into the Colonel out here.

No, she knew that neither she nor the Colonel could afford to be together right now. There were too many people watching them—too many eyes on them. She shuddered a little as she thought about Selim Bradley, Pride, watching her from the shadows. Those tendrils and little hands, and the eyes she could just feel. No. No matter how badly she wanted to see Roy Mustang, Riza knew that she shouldn’t hope. They couldn’t risk meeting outside of work. They could barely risk meeting at work.

There was a slight whine, at her side, and Riza looked down to see Hayate, whining a bit, then wagging his tail at her, as if he were trying to cheer her up. She smiled at her dog. He really was a good boy, trying to stay positive for her lately. She was certain he could sense how stressed and afraid she was. Riza readjusted the basket she had, reaching to pay the vendor for the fruits she had bought and then with a “Come on, boy,” turned to face the crowds again.

The market was often lively at this time of day, the crowds made up of both people coming home from work, and people heading out for a little fun. You could see all sorts, from the beleaguered mother trying to reign in her enthusiastic kids, to the couples walking hand in hand, to the people who were dead tired and just wanted to get home. Talking, shouting, playing and oftentimes music and singing could be heard breaking out there and there as people just interacted with each other. It really was a nice feel, and something that Riza had always enjoyed. She enjoyed it more now, because it made her feel at least a little more connected to the world, instead of just feeling like a hostage.

Riza turned to head home, walking along and enjoying the moment of life around her, enjoying just blending in, in civilian clothes for once. Her basket was weighty, full of vegetables and fruits, and ingredients for her to go home and fix herself a supper. But tonight she didn’t want to leave the market. She didn’t want to leave the life around her. She wanted to stay here, and not go back to her cold apartment where it felt like she could feel the shadows spying on her constantly.

A familiar and delicious smell caught her attention, the cooking of a little local street café that was one of her favorites. It was incredibly popular, and the chances of her getting a seat at it, at this time of night, was not very likely. But still, she was going to try. If nothing else, Riza could get herself something to carry home, and instead stop and eat it somewhere here in the market. The prospect was enticing, and she found herself moving just that little bit quicker towards the café.

It was, as expected, crowded and lively. The opposite corner had an impromptu band that seemed to have struck up, and everyone was clearly enjoying themselves. However, she was able to, surprisingly, find a seat at the café, and there was even enough room for Hayate to settle under her feet. The waitress came, took her order and left again, leaving Riza to her thoughts and observations.

For a while, she didn’t think about anything in particular, just letting herself observe the atmosphere around her. She could pretend, even for a moment, that things were normal, that she wasn’t under all the pressure she was, that there wasn’t a grand conspiracy at the highest levels of the government, that her team (friends, family) weren’t scattered around the country, their lives in danger. For a moment, she could pretend that things were as they were supposed to be.

“Excuse me? Ma’am?”

Riza was brought out her reverie by the voice of the waitress, and looked up at the girl. “Yes?” she responded.

“Well, as you can see, we’re pretty busy tonight, and it’s crowded. If you’re alone, would you mind sharing your table with other customers?” The waitress bit her lip a bit, her fingers linking together as she asked.

The poor thing was nervous, and Riza smiled at her, trying to put her at ease. “Of course,” she said. “I don’t mind at all.”

The waitress let out a breath, and her eyes seemed to lighten a bit. “Thank you very much, ma’am. I really appreciate it!” Much lighter then she came, the waitress dashed off, and Riza smiled, returning herself to her observations.

“Lieutenant?”

Her heart stopped, her eyes widened as she heard that voice, and she turned to look. Standing next to her table, a beautiful woman on his arm, was Roy Mustang.

“Colonel!” she said in surprise, making to stand before he motioned her back down. “We’re not in the office, Lieutenant, and off duty. Don’t worry about it.”

“Of course, sir.” She replied, looking curiously between him and the woman.

“Oh dear—oh—is this going to be a problem?” The nervous waitress asked.

For a moment their eyes met, and it was the connection that Riza had been missing.

“No, not at all,” he said, smiling at the waitress. “She’s a work friend,” he explained. “I’m sure that Veronica won’t mind, will you?”

The girl on his arm giggled, and Riza tried to categorize her name. Ah, yes. Veronica. One of his sisters. She felt herself relax a bit. Nothing to worry about then.

“No, not at all! I want to meet more of your friends, Roy!” Veronica said.

The waitress looked relieved, and left to go bring them some drinks, while Roy pulled out a chair for Veronica and then sat down himself.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, sir,” Riza commented. “Especially not on a date.”

“Well, Veronica wanted to go shopping, and then I told her about this place. After all, I do believe it was you who recommended it to me before.” He said.

“Oh did you?” Veronica asked. “How did you find it?”

“It was recommended to me by a friend. She had eaten here before when she was in the city. I believe it was on a date. The date was abysmal, if I remember correctly, but she said that the food was divine.” She watched Roy almost choke on the water he had just been brought. “I can’t speak for her date, but she was right about the food.”

Veronica giggled again. “Your friend sounds like a fun time!”

“If its Catalina, she is,” Roy muttered with a slight scowl.

Riza turned a placid smile on him. “As a matter of fact, it was. You can’t deny that she was right about the food here, though, Colonel.”

“No, that’s true,” he admitted, settling an arm around Veronica. Riza tried not to let her eyes linger on it too long. “So what brings you here, Lieutenant?”

“Hayate and I were out shopping. But to be honest I was tired, and didn’t want to make supper tonight. I could smell the food from here, and decided to stop.” She explained, picking up her own water.

“Hayate?” Veronica asked.

“Yes. My dog,” Riza explained. “Hayate, come.” She said. The dog stood obediently and Veronica immediately began cooing over the dog. Hayate didn’t move until he received Riza’s command that let him go see the other woman, who immediately began showering the pup with attention, much to his delight.

“It seems working for the Fuhrer is hard,” Roy said, raising his eyebrows.

Riza could hear the unspoken question in there. Are you alright?

“It keeps me busy, but I’ve been busier,” she responded. I’m alright.

“Still, I’m surprised to see you out. I know he keeps you late often.” Is everything alright? Are you being followed? Watched?

“He does, but tonight he let me go early, and decided it would be nice to spend some time among other people.” Yes I am. I needed to be around people tonight.

The Colonel’s eyebrow raised slightly. “I see. You should spent some time with some friends then, Lieutenant. Go have some fun.” Remember that if it gets too much, you have allies here.

“I wouldn’t want to bother them, sir. Not when I’m sure they’re just as tired as I am.” I don’t want to drag them into this unless it’s absolutely necessary. It’s too dangerous.

“I trust you know what you’re doing, Lieutenant. Although I still think you should loosen up and have a little fun. Hey, Veronica! Don’t you know someone that would be good for the Lieutenant here?” Please be careful. Remember your contacts. Let’s get one in touch with you.

“Hm?” Veronica looked up from Hayate, blinking as if she hadn’t heard the conversation, then lighting up as the last question registered. “Ohhh, I bet Gerrard would be good for her! Or maybe, if you like them more exotic, Miss Lieutenant, Jean-Luc. He’s an experienced one!”

Veronica chattered on about the different men she could set Riza up with—different contacts, they all knew—and they talked amicably about such things for a bit, only stopping when the food had arrived, and they all dug in. It was, as usual, delicious, and Veronica declared that it was to die for. It wasn’t long after that, that they all stood to leave, Veronica once again on Roy’s arm.

“Well, our date night has just begun,” Mustang said, “And there’s plenty more to do. But I trust I’ll see you around tomorrow, Lieutenant?” We have more information to gather. Will you be okay?

“Then I hope you have a good time,” she said, looping Hayate’s leash around her wrist and picking up her basket. “I’m sure we’ll at least see each other in passing.” Good luck. I’ll be alright.

“Then have a good night, Lieutenant.” Roy said, a slight tip of his hat to her. Be safe.

“Bye, Riza!” Veronica called back as the two began to walk away. “I’ll see about setting you up with someone! I’ll send the details with Roy here!” I’ll set you up a contact too. And give you a reason to talk to Roy.

Riza laughed. “I’ll look forward to it. Thank you.” Thank you for giving me a reason to talk to him.

She watched them walk away for a moment, settling her basket on her arm a little better before she too sat out for home. Her heart felt lighter, and her steps more sure as she walked, Hayate trotting by her side. Perhaps it was just foolishness, but this was just the coincidence that she needed tonight.

#royaiweek19 #royai #fanfic #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #holy crap its been years since I wrote any fancfiction #or at least any that I shared! #I hope this is decent!

[itsanerdlife]

Chasing The Dream 8/10

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader (High School/College AU)

Warning: Angst. Underage drinking. Jealousy. Language. Heartbreak and arguing.

A/N: This is the series, the prequel of Chasing Dreams One Shot. They do overlap so if you need to read it I can link it when time comes.

Chasing Dreams - This is half way through this part. The basic ending is where this picks up. I got the idea of this series from this one shot. It’s not totally on spot but you get the idea.

Only Two Parts Left

College –

Y/N (Beginning Never Start While Carrying Past Baggage)

The guys had tested out early, getting their diplomas before they left. Nat, Wanda and yourself watched as the tail lights of Buck’s van faded into the evening night. You’d kept your word, not speaking to your father since the fight. He’d left shortly before Peter and the guys, something about a new album and working out a few new songs. You rolled your eyes and ran up to your room without a goodbye, you had nothing nice to say to him.

The guys missed graduation. Wanda sent them photos, and a short video of you celebrating, blowing them kisses. She sent the good photos, most of them were of one of you crying, all of you puffy eyed and ruined make up. Your mother joined your father on tour, leaving you to pack for college on your own.

You’d put off singing, the three of you not ready to pick at the wound in your chests. Peter sent texts, sometimes he called late at night, running on a high after a concert. The closer your move in date got, the more you avoided answering. You were playing with fire; your willpower was weak, and you were standing on the edge of booking a plane ticket and bailing on college. There were break down moments, in the weeks leading up to your move. You’d broke down and called Bucky, bawling and irrational.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He was moving from room to room, you could hear it.

“I can’t do it Buck. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to do this.” You sobbed curled up in bed.

“Hey breathe, you’re going to be okay.” His voice is soft and soothing.

“It hurts too much. I don’t want to live like this. This isn’t what I want.” You shake your head, tears soaking your pillow.

“Deep breathes, Y/N. You’re scared and you’re still getting over the heart break.” He was right, you were being selfish.

“I miss him.” You admit with a choked voice.

“He’s no better than you.” He sighs.

“I’m a lone Buck. I’m scared.” You chew your bottom lip.

“I’m going to send you some downloads, put them on your phone, put your headphones in. I know you have about eight of his shirts. So, put one on and hide under all the blankets and press play.” He instructs you.

“Don’t tell him I called.” You sigh, wiping your tears.

“Our secret doll.” He chuckles softly. “Get ready, I’ll send you what you need to get through the night.” The two of you hang up.

You did what Buck told you pulling your laptop into your lap, you transfer over the MP3’s he sent you, loading them to your phone without a glance at what they were labeled. You put your headphones in, pulling the blankets up over your head you press play. Snuggled in, wearing Peter’s band T you’d stolen from him, a guitar fills your ears and like everything you needed Peter’s voice follows. Your eyes sink close and your body relaxes into the blankets and bed, everything was right when you were dreaming of Peter.

--------

(After One Shot)

Peter (Is It Really Everything You Ever Wanted)

He dropped his duffle just inside the door, and he could hear Aunt May rushing through the house.

“Peter?” She yells excitedly.

“It’s me, Aunt May.” He laughs, she rushes around the corner colliding into him. Her arms hugging him tightly to her.

“My boys home!” She gushes, rocking side to side.

“It’s just a few days.” He laughs.

“Let me fix you something to eat.” She lets go, heading for the kitchen.

“Somethings just never change.” He mumbles under his breath with a grin as he follows her.

“Where are my other boys?” She looks back at him.

“They’ll be here for supper.” He nods, knowing none of them would risk the wrath of Aunt May if they missed dinner.

“Good.” She nods, shuffling around the kitchen.

“So how are things?” He chews the inside of his cheek, sliding up onto the counter top.

“Anything interesting you’re looking for?” Aunt May smirks at him.

“How’s Uncle Ben?” Peter looks down at his hands.

“Good, working. Refuses to retire, stubborn old man.” She mutters.

“Good to know he’s still the same.” He laughs.

“Aunt May?!” The front door opens, the guys having arrived.

“My boys!” Aunt May throws her hands up, rushing out to greet them. “Come, come, I’m making snacks.” She comes back into the kitchen, going back to work.

“Hey man.” The guys greet him.

“Hey.” He nods.

“Peter was just asking how things are around here. You boys wondering the same thing?” She pauses looking at them. All four of them shift, Aunt May was always good at knowing what they were up too.

“Things been good?” Buck swallows, looking nervously at Aunt May. She lays down her knife, sighing.

“I’m going to give it to you straight boys. Aunt May isn’t Willy Wonka, so here it is.” She points at Buck. “Your girl, pawned her guitar, it’s still sitting down at the second hand shop. She’s sworn off music, colored her hair and has a mean glare on her face most days.” She nods.

“Yikes.” Buck swallows.

“Steven, you better be asking that Amy Thompson for a DNA test, her little girl is blonde, blue eyed and looks like you.” She shoots Steve a dirty look. Steve’s eyes are massive, as he looks around at the other guys.

“I think I need to make a phone call.” Steve pats his pockets before running out of the kitchen.

“That little red headed Wanda, she’s sad. Just sad Samuel. They cried through graduation, and don’t even think it’s cause they are going to miss school.” She points at the three of them. “That girl was so bubbly and joyful and it’s like someone fed her vinegar.” She sighs.

“Wanda? I can’t picture her anything but wide eyed, embarrassed and laughing.” Peter shakes his head, but Aunt May turns on him.

“Peter Benjamin Parker. That poor girl has not been the same since you left this town. Cops showed up just before she left for school. Apparently she had it out with her father again, family dispute or so the town is saying.” She gives him a look that makes him shift in his seat. “Girl colored her hair, refuses to speak to her father, and from what I heard, she’s barely making grades in school.” Aunt May waves the knife around the kitchen at them. “You got some fancy deal and left town, ruining three of the sweetest girls I know.” She wasn’t happy with them, she was lecturing them.

“We didn’t have a choice Aunt May.” Buck sighs.

“We had a choice.” Peter speaks up.

“Christ not this argument again.” Sam drops his head into his hands.

“She wasn’t allowed to come with us. What did you want Nat and Wanda to come, but leave Y/N even more alone?” Buck defends himself.

“Was this really worth it?” Peter throws his hands up. “Cause I’m not fucking happy. Sam isn’t happy. Are you happy Buck? Does being a rock star keep you warm at night? Does it give you that warm excited feeling in your chest? Is it excited to see you every day? Cause I haven’t seen that yet.” Peter shakes his head, biting into a cookie off the counter.

“He has a point.” Sam looks up, rubbing his face.

“You’re only saying this cause you saw her a few weeks ago.” Buck sighs. “I get the same way after seeing Nat. It’s hard, wondering what could have been, I get that Parker.” He shakes his head.

“I’ve been feeling this way for a while, before seeing her.” He admits.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have let her take you back to her place, you wouldn’t be all tangled up in your head.” Buck replies with a sigh. Aunt May looks over at him, he flushes red.

“Shut up.” Peter throws the other half the cookie at Buck. “I’ve been thinking this before the concert. Before being with her again.” His brow connects.

“He has.” Sam defends Peter.

“Why do you always take his side in everything?” Buck groans.

“Maybe because we think the same. Maybe I just miss Wanda. I miss our old lives.” Sam retorts annoyed.

“Yeah, maybe we miss how things were.” Peter jumps in. Suddenly the three of them are going back and forth, Aunt May watching.

“Steven are you okay?” She interrupts. Everyone quiets looking over at Steve, who’s pale white and wide eyed.

“I have a daughter.” He replies, shocked.

“Oh shit.” Peter’s off the counter.

“Told you so.” Aunt May replies, her voice soft as she goes back to making snacks. Peter smirks at her, woman was always right and sometimes it was downright scary.

Everything Peaches 2/6/19: @xmtd5 @mo320 @courtmr   @all1e23 @izzy--lee @irepeldirt @dumblani @crist1216 @alyssaj23 @allyp1023 @joannie95 @kolakube9 @rileyloves5 @sarahp879 @sea040561 @sexyvixen7 @pcterpvrker @pigwidgexn @doctoranon @abschaffer2 @nickimarie94 @teller258316 @wandressfox @amandab-ftw @henrietteoaks @nea90sweetie @circusofchaos @itsagalaxystar @bettercallsabs @miraclesoflove @lucifersnipnips @queenkrissy11 @sadyoungadult @destiel-artemis @paintballkid711 @iwillbeinmynest @sweet-honey15 @chanelmadrid13 @mellxander1993   @spookygrantaire @geeksareunique @supernatural508 @sammysgirl1997 @itzmegaaaaaaan @booksbeforebois @mariekoukie6661 @pure-princess-97 @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @youclickedthislink @futuremrsb-r-main @lovemarvelousfics @notyourtypicalrose @petersunderoos96 @loving-life-my-way @booktvmoviefangirl @supernatural-girl97 @fanfictionjunkie1112 @abbypalmer14-blog @meganlikesfandoms @awkwardfangirl2014 @supernaturaldean67 @xqueenofthecraziesx   @queenoftheunderdark @writingaworldofmyown @supernaturallover2002 @daughterofthenight117 @sprinklesandsugarcubes @whothehellisbucky-1930 @verymuchclosetedfangirl @for-the-love-of-the-fandom @ocaptain-mycaptainmorgan @wonderlandfandomkingdom @crazy-little-thing-called-buck @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @stupendoussciencenaturepanda @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety

Peter Parker: @ml7010 @ariminiria @dkpink123 @little-smurf @boltsgirl919 @quokkatrash   @everthenerd @ms-rogers06 @crayonwriting @baebeepeach @bellamouse16 @honey-bee-holly @kiss-the-stars-goodbye

Chasing The Dream: @del-rcys @gabile18   @robin-writes @raven-black102

#Marvel #Peter Parker x Reader #Avengers #Peter x Reader #Chasing The Dream #Marvel Fanfiction #Peter Parker AU Series #Avengers Fanfiction #Peter AU Series

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Ink and Lace: Three

Steve watched you across the table as you sipped your coffee. You weren’t made up, wearing joggers and an old University hoodie. 

You were still beautiful.

He didn’t expect you to be happy right now. You’d had your heartbroken. Brutally by the sounds of it. Ty had cheated on you, from the sounds of it, several times over the four years you were together. The story just poured out. All the times you had suspicions but you let him talk you out of it. All the times his family had “jokingly” offered you money to stay with him. Steve took your hand as you quietly wiped away a few tears, reminding you that you weren’t alone. “I got to keep the dog though,” you say brightly, “He tried to take her and she snapped at him.”

“Good girl,” Steve snorted, happy that your little Dust mop of a dog was, at the very least, loyal. You sigh and stretch, “Thank god for trust funds, I guess. Not sure how I’d keep my apartment otherwise.” Steve cocked his head, “Trust fund?” You nod, “Dad was a bookie. A good one. Mom was a model back in her younger days... They got my brother and I pretty well set. Well. Dad did.” Steve nods, “Bookie, huh?” You snort, “Yeah. A good one. Kept it clean though. He just blacklisted people that didn’t pay.” Steve nodded, “You said was, though, Sugar. He go to jail?” You shake your head, “He died a few years ago. Heart attack.” Steve squeezes your hand gently, “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Thanks,” you whisper. You sip your coffee and run your fingers through your hair. “What about your mom? Are you close?” You shake your head, “Mom never really wanted much to do with me really. First, it was because I ruined her figure and ended her career. Then it was because I didn’t want to also be a model... The happiest day of my life when my dad told me he was making my brother the executor of my trust. Because mom woulda used the money for like... all the Botox.” Steve couldn’t help it. He snorted. He was glad to know your sense of humor was still intact. He was also glad to know that you weren’t going to have any financial issues after the breakup. 

“So,” he said, “got any plans for the rest of your day?” You shake your head, “I was just gonna go home. Cuddle my dog and probably eat cookie dough and cry or something.” He smiles a little, “Feel like company? You’ve been alone a lot the last few days.” You blush, “Is this you telling me that I look like hell and you’re worried?” He shakes his head, “No, sugar. I mean... You don’t look like yourself but you’re still beautiful. And I’m less worried now that I can see you’re more or less okay.”  You squeeze his hand, “I’ll be okay. I’d rather be alone than be with Ty after everything. I hope he gets himself sorted out. That he treats the next one better.” Steve frowned, “What do you want for you?” You sigh and rub the back of your neck, “I don’t really know,” you murmur. “I was structuring everything I wanted to do around Ty. Field School, grad programs, class schedules... Now I mean, the world is my oyster but at this rate, I think I’m developing an allergy to shellfish.” Steve laughed, “Sugar, I don’t think that’s true. You’re too smart for that.” You blush and look down, “Thanks, Steve.”

He stood when you did and pulled you into a hug. You looked like you needed one and the feel of you melting into him made his heart skip a beat. He brushed a tentative kiss against your head, “C ‘ mon,” he said bracingly, “Don’t you have a list of movies to inflict on me?” That makes you smile up at him and he melts, “You sure?” you ask. He nods, “I have at least a few hours til the world needs saving again,” he teases, “Til they call me, I can be all yours.” You raise an eyebrow and he feels himself blush, “I didn’t mean it like that.” You smile a little, “I know. I wouldn’t do that to you anyway. You deserve better than being my rebound.” Steve smiles a little and leads you out of the coffee shop towards your house, “I know.”

Once you get settled in with the appropriate junk food and but movies on the coffee table, Steve pulls you close. He doesn’t have many female friends. Natasha is pretty much it. Maybe Maria Hill. So this is... nice. Just relaxing and watching a terrible movie. You were holding your dog. A black and white Shih tzu named Socks. The little dog seemed happy just to be near you. You were holding her like a baby and she seemed thrilled about it, her little pom pom tail wiggling. Steve held on to you, happily playing the role of best friend and muscle wall. You held the dog and in the cozy little apartment, Steve was happy. He Was happy to be there for you. Happy to support you and just be a friend. You ordered dinner for them and Steve took a little while to inspect your work desk. You had stacks of school notes. A laptop. A cup of pens. Tidy. Organized. Books by subject and author. A manifestation of your mind, he thought. You liked things organized. He didn’t move anything, but he did take a moment to admire the outlines for upcoming papers and the color-coded calendar. Type A, he decided fondly as he listened to you chattering to your dog, getting her supper and a few pieces of your sweet and sour chicken in her bowl. Once the dog was fed and picking daintily at her bowl, you handed Steve a plate and a beer and poured yourself a glass of wine before rejoining him on the couch. It’s comfortable and it doesn’t take long for you to be fast asleep. 

Steve smiles to himself and tucks a blanket around you gently before kissing your head and giving the dog a pat. It wasn’t right, he thought to tuck you into bed. But he did tidy up, putting leftovers away and closing up junk food. It was time to go but he found himself lingering. He wanted just a little longer. One more movie. One more laugh. He wanted to make sure you were okay. But once everything was put away and you were sitting up, groggy and disoriented, he didn’t have any reason to stay. 

“Hey, Sugar,” he said kissing your head, “I’m gonna head out. You need anything else?” You shake your head and smudge a sleepy kiss against his cheek, “I’m okay, Stevie. Thank you for letting me mope on you all day.” He felt himself blush as you got up to walk him to the door so you could lock it. “Any time, Sugar. It was fun. I’ll see you later?” You nod and hug him, arms around his waist inside his jacket and your forehead on his chest, “Yeah. Be safe?” Steve hugs you back, his heart thudding. You told him that every time. You told everyone that. But it made him happy knowing that you wanted him to be safe. That you’d wait up to get a text from him saying he was home safe. “I’ll text you,” he says giving you an extra squeeze before letting you go. If he didn’t let go he wouldn’t leave. He’d stay and tuck himself into the bed next to you. You nod and stand there rubbing your eyes as you watch him go. 

Steve left the building and paused in the glow of a streetlamp. The same streetlamp that you had asked him “He wasn’t buying me a present, was he?” The same Streetlamp where he’d often ached to kiss you when he walked you home. Today, despite the bruising on your heart, you had been kind. Sweet. Even a little sassy. He watched his breath in the air as he trudged forward. It was safe to say this was more than a crush.

Tags:  @lancsnerd​ @stevieang​ @golddaggers​ @blameitonthecauseway​ @qxeen-of-hearts​ @process-pending​ @xmarveled​

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #friends to lovers #fluff #angst if you squint

[quothethemenevermore]

I don't have a name for it

Tw: slight descriptions of verbal/physical abuse

Contains soft, safe similar size vore

He sensed it before the door even opened.

His caretaker was upset. But it wasn't her usual upset mood, it was more intense. Something really awful must have happened at her job. 

He didn't meet her at the door, but waited in the kitchen instead. As he thought, she walked right by and started heading up to the room, hiding the hiccups and the shaky breaths the best she could. She also seemed to be trembling, which put a frown on his face. Though, a cold front had started to move in, so that hopefully explained her shivering.

Regardless, he quickly slithered behind her, wrapping his coils around her before she could even register the sound of his tail against the hardwood floor. His arms wrapped around her cold frame, holding back a wince. 

He knew better than to be doing this as a naga, as he couldn't retain body heat. There was a good chance he would have to spend the rest of the night under a heated blanket, but it was well worth it if it made his human feel better. 

Her words were shaky, as her breathing had not steadied. "What- Hey, let go." She didn't even use her usual fiery words. Something definitely was wrong. "I'm serious. It's cold outside, you're gonna freeze clinging to me like that." She tried to squirm out of the grip, but his arms tightened around her. "You're upset." He said, rather bluntly. It tended to be out of his character, as she claims he is oblivious to everything. Still, he knew when something was off, and this wasn't the first time he's caught her trying to sneak away to a secluded area of the house while upset. 

She was too prideful to let anyone see her cry, including him even though they lived together. He had seen her worst at this point but she still wouldn't swallow her pride around him. It was mildly annoying, but he knew it made her feel better so he didn't push. 

Except for these circumstances. 

Her squirming stopped, and she went limp against him. She knew by now it was pointless to resist physically. "Just a busy day." "And? What happened?" 

"Dammit, can't you leave things alone? I don't really want to discuss what happened. I still need to make dinner-" "Not until I know what happened in your day!" Her eyes narrowed into sharp, cold jade stones, glaring him down with an intensity that revealed just how upset she was. 

The eyes are the windows to the soul, after all. He has used this trick multiple times, just so he can determine how upset she was by her eyes. Doesn't mean she hated it any less, but he could live with that. "Fine. I dropped a tray, and it messed up a couple orders. That's all." 

His eyes narrowed this time, and she quickly turned away, knowing he was trying to read her thoughts. Even if she knew the only way he could was through hypnosis with her consent, she still wouldn't risk giving him a chance. 

A pout formed on his face, both from her defiance and from the cold. He reluctantly released her, coiling around himself slightly to try and retain what heat he had. She glared at him as she got to her feet. "Serves you right, asshole. I told you I was cold." She started towards their room, and he frowned, going to the dining room. He situated himself onto the ground, debating his next action. 

He could always store her, that was usually his last resort. Plus, she was cold and obviously tired. 

His thought process didn't last long, before his world went dark as something was tossed over him. He struggled with the fabric, carefully as he felt his claws collide with what he assumed to be wires, before he finally pulled the cover off of his head and around his shoulders. He looked down to see it was indeed a wired electric blanket, plugged in and turned onto its maximum setting.

"Can't have you freezing to death because you're an idiot now," came from the kitchen, and he peered into the doorway to see her pulling some things out of the fridge, presumably to make the duo supper. 

He debated interfering but his limbs felt slightly numb, refusing to leave the warmth of the blanket. He settled for laying down with his head in the doorway to still keep an eye on her. 

He wasn't sure when he dozed off but he was awoken by a small tap on his shoulder. 

There were two bowls on the table, soup he assumed. Wasn't a bad meal for a cold night. "Come on, you need to eat." With that, she went to her side of the table and started on her bowl. 

He took his bowl off of the tablex and confirming that it was soup- tomato soup, he noted faintly- downed the entire thing. 

"I wish you wouldn't do that." She muttered as he set the bowl back on the table. "You can at least take it to the kitchen since you're done." She said louder. 

"Wish I wouldn't do what?" He lingered on the first sentence, knowing the girl hoped he'd ignore it. "That. Eating so fast. I get that it's your nature and all but humans tend to base their cooking skills on how a dish tastes, not how quickly you can eat it." She explained tiredly, and he noted that her eyes seemed to droop slightly. Exhaustion, he noted, but also sadness?

"Well, I know it tasted like tomatoes, somewhat. And there are some spices that gives it a kick," a ghost of a smile appeared on her face for a moment, before it vanished as she stood up and took her bowl to the kitchen. 

Now's my chance.

He followed her, putting his bowl in the sink and watching her wash them, along with the pan, ladle and spoon she used. He started coiling around her slowly, her not noticing until her waist down was trapped. By then, she finished rinsing the dishes and tried to turn to face him, rather tired of his gaze burning holes in the back of her head. His stares always sent chills down her spine, even if it was with good intentions and good emotions. 

"What are you doing." It wasn't a question, but a demand. He leaned closer to her, savoring the heat she gave off now that she warmed up. That wasn't his intention, and they both knew it. But she humored him anyway, if only to stall. 

"If you're that cold, your blanket is still plugged in." 

"You know you are a good cook, right?" "I'm decent, never said I was-" "You are a good cook, because most of your dishes taste just like you." She turned away, and he watched the color rise to her face. "And what does that taste like?" 

"Tomatoes," he leaned closer to her, his tongue slipping out of his mouth and against her cheek playfully. "With a kick." 

He forgot her arms were free, as she shoved his torso away from her, wrestling with the coils around her waist. He watched her struggle for a moment, before pressing her down to the ground. 

The end of his tail saved her head from what would have been a migraine, him grinning from above her. He held her arms down at their elbows, leaving no room for her to move. She glared hotly at the naga above her, knowing she was trapped. 

"Why are you so upset?" 

"Back to 20 questions, I see." She groaned, trying to squirm away. The coils got tighter around her legs, and he leaned a little closer. "Tell me. What got you so upset? Did you have to serve someone you don't like?" That always put her in a foul mood. 

She looked away, but this time there was no squirming. She lay limp against the ground, head turned away to hopefully hide the tears she couldn't stop from shedding. 

She didn't want to think about what happened during her shift. About the tray that slipped from her hands, or the plates that flew everywhere, the hand that stung against her thigh and the fingers that bruised around her wrist. But those marks were nothing compared to the ones left on her mind by the words. 

Usually she doesn't let anyone's insults bother her, but it was the humiliation, in front of every single person in the diner that got to her. She was the talk of the diner, she was sure. She didn't truly know, because she immediately went to the kitchen and clocked out before anyone could catch her crying. 

And the one person she never wanted to see her cry was currently pinning her down, and left her no choice. 

"Please just leave me alone." 

Her eyes were shut, but she knew it didn't make a difference as she felt the air around her become warm and damp. She remained limp as his tongue explored her face, and even when her head was pushed further back. 

The coils loosened around her, finally slipping off as he pulled more of her in. It didn't take too long, as she was a rather small human. A few swallows from her shoulders and her entire body was no longer visible to the outside world. 

Exactly how he wanted it to be. 

He unplugged the blanket and dragged it to their bedroom, curling up on the bed and plugging it in again once more. 

"I won't make you talk about it, if you stay in there for the rest of the night. Deal?" "Fine by me." She replied, getting comfortable now that the body around her stopped moving. 

She sighed, leaning against the wall slightly. Exhaustion threatened to overtake her, and even though she wanted to sleep, she knew it was unfair to keep him in the dark when he did things like this to help her. 

"I got harassed, physically and verbally. It just shook me up a bit, I guess." She listened as a whoosh escaped his lungs in a sigh. "That's understandable. Also really awful, I'm sorry people feel the need to be so mean to you." "It's okay." She finished with a yawn. 

"Go ahead and sleep, I'll see you tomorrow." The walls caved in slightly around her, and she grinned, knowing he was giving her the best hug he could from the outside. "Good night. And thank you." 

#i dont really want to add the voretalia tag #but technically these are characters for that #similar size vore #safe vore #soft vore #nonfatal vore #naga vore #tw #mentions of abuse #mentions of violence #description of violence