#tried to cling on for 13 years. its not like it was the one thing i was looking forward to all month its not like i cried that night | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

violetsiren90 · 2 months

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Evergreen | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x human!f!Reader

(A Nothing But You universe fic)

Genre: hybrid AU; one-shot; established relationship; domestic fluff; slice of life; mountain living; pregnancy

Word Count: 1689

Summary: Seasons change, life moves on - but some things stay the same.

Content Warning: PG-13 for themes but my page and all its content are 18+ (minors, dni); wolf hybrid rut; mentions of knotting and marking; mentions of rut symptoms that include insomnia and lack of appetite; deep emotions; the use of "your" and "belonging" in the sense of committed love NOT ownership; pregnancy; mentions of different states of undress; domesticity and shared domestic responsibility; homesteading; Chris being the sweetest and most caring 😭💕; Chris chopping wood 😳; mentions of food and eating; implications of sexual intimacy, parenthood

Author's Note: I guess I went and fell in love with these two. This is a companion one-shot to Nothing But You. This one-shot is a different flavor, not as soft and cozy all the way through - there are more notes here, I think. Some sweeter, some sharper, but in the end, it's still them. I wanted to peek into their lives and see how they lived and loved. 🥰

If no one has told you yet today, please know that you are so loved, and so worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

~January~

Snow burdens the branches of the pines, the bitter North wind whistling between the trees, through the darkness, and over the blanket of fresh powder shrouding the forest floor. The mountains are sleeping, but your wolf is awake.

He nearly collapses, sinking to his knees as he shuts the cabin door. You spring up from your place by the fire to rush to him, but he holds up a hand, a growl rumbling low in his chest. You freeze. Panting, he slowly raises his face. Snowflakes cling to his lashes and dust over his head and shoulders. The dusky circles under his brown eyes speak of weariness, yet their expression is dark and wild. His nose is flushed from the chill. Beads of sweat quiver on his brow.

The fever still hasn't broken.

It appeared two days ago, with other sudden changes. Christopher has grown restless and short-tempered, and won't sleep in your bed. He smells intoxicatingly of cedar wood and amber.

You've been through it all before, his annual rut at the end of winter - four days of watching him endure the throes of primal agony. He would steal away at night, to hunt, your proximity far too overwhelming for his heightened senses and desires. Unchecked he would fail to stop himself. He would take you, mark you, knot you.

He hadn't in the four years you'd shared a bed and the comfort of the other's flesh. You'd spoken of the mating rites, but he always held off, afraid to break you. So protective of you always, and without a second a thought to himself.

You respected his space, his wishes, attempting to help him navigate the torment of his natural longings as best you could.

But this year it had taken him like a wild fire. The fever wouldn't break. He wouldn't sleep or eat. And now, here he was, half frozen and shivering on the floor.

No more.

You slowly cross to pull him up against his weak protesting. You peel away his frost-damp clothes and drag his heavy frame to rest upon the bed. With his last strength he tries to push you away, but you slip under the blankets beside him, pulling him into your arms.

His eyes flutter shut as he curls against you and nuzzles into your neck, whimpering that when he wakes it will be too hard for him to hold back.

You tell him not to try.

You tell him that you need him, want him - all of him. This part too, with all the others. You assure him softly that you're not afraid, nor should he fear to make you his...you already belong to one another, after all.

You whisper that you love him.

Christopher exhales, tears trickling down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and melted snow. You hold him to your breast, brushing soft kisses into his hair.

Cedar wood and amber.

~April~

You shake out a flannel shirt, crinkled and bunched from wringing to hang it on the line that stretches from the side of the cabin to a young yellow birch within the clearing. You smile as you fasten it with clips. He had worn it on the first day he visited the diner. It was faded then, and it has grown more timeworn still. But the fabric is thick, the seams hand-sewn, and if the dye has begun to abandon the thread it is only ever the softer.

Strong and soft, like him.

The warblers are singing in the branches of the white pines as they busily fashion their nests. You stroke a hand down over the little bump of your belly, musing over the nesting that has started to change the trappings of your own little home. There's still plenty of time, but Christopher's excitement has poured forth in the form of hard work, and you're certain that when your time comes he'll have stored by enough for the next three winters yet.

You hear the rumbling of his truck a ways off. He left in the wee hours, the bed loaded down with wares to sell to suppliers in town. By the time you've strung up the last piece of washing he's already at the mouth of the trail, his arms laden with flowers and parcels wrapped in brown paper. The light wash of his denim shirt brings out the early kisses of the spring sunshine on his honeyed skin.

You follow him into the house where he puts your wildflowers into a vase and insists that you sit while he tends to lunch. Unwrapping the brown paper packages you find a set of pretty maternity pajamas, a box of chocolates, and the goat's milk soap you like.

He's already eaten half his sandwich when he sets yours down, and you tug his wrist, pulling him into a chair to prevent him from setting out to work yet again.

When the dishes are cleared you won't let him leave. He'd work every second of every day and well into many nights if you let him. But today you want him to rest. It's a mild and lovely afternoon and the chores are done. Other things can wait.

You sit across his lap on the porch swing he built two summers before. Your arms encircle one of his as you rest your head on his shoulder.

His lips brush your forehead as his thumb caresses the little curved scar where the slope of your shoulder meets your neck. The one that means you belong to him and no one else.

The birds sing and the swing creaks. 

~July~

He calls you from around the other side of the house. You draw an arm over your dripping brow and struggle up from where you're crouched to spread a batch of plump, ripe blackberries between the screens of the drying rack. There are still so many. Some you'll turn into jam. Christopher will eat the rest. He loves them. You rest the colander still half-full with berries against the full swell of your belly, wrapping an arm about the rim to keep it in place.

You're hot and uncomfortable these days. But, when the morning's work is through, you'll go down to the lake together to shed the day's heat in the cool, still waters. You'd been every afternoon that week. Christopher was a strong swimmer, and would stay in far longer while you sat on the shady bank with a book. When he finally quit the water yesterday, he'd never found his clothes - instead he'd pressed you back into the lush green grass and made you sigh his name.

As you round the far side of the cabin your eyes catch his form. He stands under the sweltering sun, stripped down to pair of fitted khaki work pants and thick suede boots. His muscular chest is slicked with sweat and he stands, panting, with his weight pressed into his right hip. He holds an axe in his hand.

His mouth pulls up at the corner and his tail swishes at the site of you. You tuck yourself against him wrapping your free arm around his damp waist. Oh how you want to swim. To hold his strong body in the dark water.

He gestures with the axe at what he's fitted together with stripped pieces of soft pine. A little cradle. He nudges it with his foot, setting it to rock. You bring a blackberry to his lips and he accepts it.

You kiss him.

Salty skin and summer fruit. 

~October~

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of little cries. You sit up and stretch, blinking in the softness of the early autumn light.

You inhale deeply. Cinnamon and hickory smoke.

Outside the air is growing crisp and the leaves of the deciduous trees are blushing and abandoning their hosts, covering the floor of the wood in their pageantry. Fruit and game have begun to grow scarce as the forest prepares to enter the long slumber of the colder months. Nights require fires more often than not.

There is a small fire crackling now. A little black cauldron hangs over the flames, and you can smell the porridge simmering within. The man you love sits in a rocking chair near the warmth, a little bundle in his arms. He looks up at you as you rise and he smiles. He's been all smiles lately. In fact, you don't think the little dimple has left his cheek since he met the tiny she-wolf in his arms two weeks ago.

He says she looks like you, but all you see in her beautiful little features is Christopher. She has two tiny fuzzy ears and a darling little tale.

You reach down to stroke her fat cheek and your heart aches.

It aches from love, so much of it.

When the doctor placed her in your arms a part of your heart that you hadn't known existed burst to beating. You thought you loved the man who had knitted her inside you as much as you were able, but you had been ignorant in that respect as well. When he took your daughter in his arms and looked down on her face you thought that there wasn't room in your chest for things so vast, so deep.

You named her Hannah, for the sister her father had lost. It meant "grace".

So fitting, you think.

You move your fingers into Christopher's curls and he looks up at you. His brown eyes are soft and warm. The lovely eyes you saw that first day at the general store - the same through every changing season.

The maple and the birch will wax and wane, but not the cedar, not the pine.

Some things will remain.

And he is evergreen. 

-Fin-

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mustangs-flames · 12 days

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'Hail, True Body': A Series Summary

Here is an overview of my now original religious horror series, 'Hail, True Body'.

'Hail, True Body' is a religious horror series that focuses on what it means to be human in a world that God has abandoned. For Mark Owens, 1993 is shaping up to be the worst year of his young life - and that's saying a lot all things considered. When his best friend Cesar Hernández calls him one night in October, Mark ignores the broadcast warnings to help him out. But Cesar is acting... strange.

Though perhaps that's understandable. His mother did just die, after all.

Being human is a terrible weight, but sometimes you find others to share the burden with.

The Series:

All Parts of Hail, True Body are posted in the order they should be read in. Some Parts are multi-chapter stories, whereas others are just oneshots. Here are links to the Parts posted so far. A new Part begins only when the previous one comes to an end. Alongside the following links, I've included the length of the part and an overview without too many spoilers.

PART 1: Mimicry Length: 6/6 chapters (39,487 words) completed Overview: When an unfathomable being awakens from a void to complete its one and only task, it finds itself enamoured with the very thing it's supposed to destroy. (An eldritch beast tries a little too hard to be human. It goes about as well as you'd expect.)

PART 2: Where Is Your God Now? Length: Oneshot (2,272 words) completed Overview: Following the immediate aftermath of Part 1, Mark Owens spirals into a crisis of faith unlike any he's experienced so far. Cesar is dead, and in what kind of a world is that fair? Unsure of what to do or where to turn with the blood on his hands, he picks up the phone and asks for help from the one person who's been there since everything in his life started to go wrong.

PART 3: Old Rugged Cross Length: 5/5 chapters (22,580 words) completed Overview: Mark Owens has always been dogged by despair, ever since he was a child. October 1993 isn't the first time he's dealt with a monster. For him it begins in 1979. It begins with an imaginary friend.

PART 4: What's In A Name? Length: Oneshot (7,420 words) completed Overview: Sometime following the events of Part 1, a mimic formerly known as Cesar Hernández wakes up in the nothingness it originally came from. Confused and lost in a jumble of memories that are both its own and not at all, it clings to the one thing it can remember: a boy with sad brown eyes and a crucifix.

PART 5: The Good Samaritan Length: 1/13 chapters (8,255 words) currently ongoing Overview: Amidst the loss and confusion of recent events, Mark Owens falls into a crisis of faith like never before. It certainly doesn't help that God is silent despite his cries, pushing him ever further onto a path of revenge. Cian Daniels is trying his best to keep this kid as safe as he can whilst meeting Mark halfway, before he can get himself killed. A direct continuation of 'Mimicry'.

PART 6: An Eye For An Eye (TBA) Length: (tbc) Overview: (tbc)

Please be sure to read the content warnings in the author's notes!

If you have any questions about the series, please feel free to ask! Thanks <3

#hail true body #my ocs #original fiction #horror writing #horror fiction #horror story #horror #i plan to crosspost onto wattpad at some point too if people are interested in that!#htb summary

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bwoahtastic · 1 year

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What if in stepmom nico they find little 3 year olf Maxy when Seb is maybe 12 or 13? And its just kitty chaos with the 2 lol. But also, Max being quite afraid of Alphas so now toto is the one having to work hard to gain a pup's trust while Max clings to Nico so easily+

Oh plss!! Nico hearing a kitten crying out and finding little max, whose tail got stuck in some plants in the garden. Poor thing is so small and scared, just skin and bones as he tries to hiss at Nico because he is so frightened, but instantly start purring when nico frees him and lifts him into his arms.

Max imprinting on Nico ij like 3 seconds and becoming Nico's little shadow, although he also really likes Seb and will follow around his kitty brother, purring softly until seb notices him and gives him snuggles! But Max is really afraid of Alphas and won't let Toto near him, hissing and just trembling like a leaf even when Toto doesn't do anything.

Toto has to work hard to gain the little one's trust and its hard for a while, but he is as patient as Nico was with Seb🥺 Seb also helping and pulling Max along at some point when he wants papa cuddles and Max clings to seb while.cautiously looking at Toto but does let the Alpha gently scratch behind his ear then🥺🥺

#asks #stepmom nico

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dogtreat · 4 months

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every question for end of the year asks 👍 ifyou want

2. album of the year

fountain baby - amaarae

3. favorite music artist you started listening to this year

JILUKA

4. movie of the year

everything everywhere all at once and BOTTOMS!

the rest under the cut ^>^

5. tv show of the year

i really dont remember what i watched lol maybe gen v cuz i can only rmember it

6. episode of media that defined the year for me

clearly none if i dont rmr anything

7. favorite actor of the year

AYO EDEBIRI!

9. best month of the year

december bc i spent it with my boyfie <3

10. something that made you cry

i remembered some terrible things bc i am unfortunately the rememberer 👍

11. something you want to do again next year

i want to see my boyfriendagain

12. talk about a new friend you made this year

@circalico i love u so much u are definitely one of my closest friends and im so glad 2023 brought us together <3 now 2024 can bring us closer!

13. how was your birthday this year

i dont remember it!

14. favorite book you read this year

foundation by asimov!

15. whats a bad habit you picked up last year

a bad coping mech

16. post a picture from the beginning of the year

17. post a picture from the end of the year

18. a memorable meal

I tried korean fried chicken and mochi donuts for the first time this year! yum!

20. whats something you learned this year?

Amphetamines are structurally similar to dopamine! but i think this means personally. so ill say that i learned a lot about how i cope with stress, how i love others, and the type of love i need in return

21. whats something new about your place of residence

its cleaner! with more decorations

23. if you could message yourself back on the first day of the year what would you say?

i would say... there will be a lot of rough moments this year but you will still get through it even if it feels impossible. lean on your friends!

24. did you keep any new years resolutions

i didnt make any last year

25. did you create any characters?

so many. most prominently is akare kai, hes boy that looks like a girl and hes got a lot going on in his head. but despite it all he clings to hope

#Thanks king :)

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oifaaa · 2 years

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I don't hate Tim, he's fine as a character, but everytime dc (or fanfic), suddenly once again have Tim and his inability to move on from Robin taking over parts of someone else's story as Robin, All I can think of is my boy Dick doing breathing exercises to keep from wringing the neck of his little brother over it. Since Dick had to give up *his mother's* personal nickname for him for this legacy and create a separate identity removed from Robin, it feels like the least Tim could do.

While I agree with your sentiment I do think it's a good thing to remember that Dick choose to give up Robin bc he recognised that Robin was always going to be connected with batman and that if he wanted to grow as his own hero he needed to move on from Robin which also puts into perspective how Dick himself sees the Robin mantle as a thing that you need to move on from bc while it's good to be able to learn from batman and have Bruce watching your back when your still learning it can get suffocating and can start to imped a person which is one of the reasons I think he tried so hard to get Tim to move on but unfortunately books like the red Robin series and fans decided to frame this as a bad decision instead of seeing it as the necessary evil that it was bc Tim was far too comfortable as Robin and now its been 13 years and Tim's still clinging onto Robin

#Ask #Anon #It kinda reminds me of weaponised incompetence as well #That they keep choosing these shite names for Tim #Like oh of course we have to keep calling tim Robin #You guys kept complaining about the other names we gave him #Like red Robin and drake #Obviously our fans just want Tim to be robin for ever #Screams

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femalefail · 6 months

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I can't sleep.

I keep thinking about my body. I want to tell its story and even if you will not open your mind or sacrifice your time to it, I need to get it out so I can rest.

TW: sh, ed, sa, su!c!de, gender dysphoria, hospitalization

When I was first given this body, I couldn't have imagined the trauma that would come along with (presumably) having XX chromosomes. I was an innocent child in my mother's arms. An early Christmas gift from the deity in Heaven my mother so often cried out to for hope. I couldn't have known that I was fated to experience a chain of events that some might say resembled body horror.

When I was a small child, I was fascinated with life. I loved to watch plants grow and seasons change. I wanted to know what made life take such forms as bugs and fish and ferocious beasts and humanity. I loved to learn about the same forces who created me. I couldn't have known that these were the same forces that would destroy me.

When I was 11, I would stand naked in front of the mirror and sob. I would run my hands over myself, hoping that I could tug and pull my tiny curves back into straight lines. When I couldn't, I would scratch my hips with thumbtacks and broken razors. I couldn't have fought the urge to hurt myself.

When I was 12, I was a quiet girl, but there was turmoil brewing inside me. I wouldn't give in to nature's curse. I ate as little as I could to show the forces that created me that I was in control of my body, not them. I would scroll through pro-ana Tumblr. I read posts from all over the internet about how other people struggled with their bodies and with their lives. I came across videos of people treating their gender dysphoria and I remember instinctually denying that I was like them. Yet I lingered on that content. I watched them experience the joy of outwardly becoming who they are inside and I would shed happy tears for them. I couldn't have known that I would feel that joy firsthand one day.

When I was 13, I found my first boyfriend. He was my age. He liked playing a game called 'firetruck.' I also figured out how to shave my legs. I still don't understand why I was expected to devote so many hours of my weeks to ridding myself of my excessive, thick body hair. I couldn't have chosen to leave it alone, because the last time I did, a boy called me Gorilla Girl. I couldn't have known that my efforts were literally in vain.

When I was 14, I started to get the hang of the 'period' thing. After years of bleeding through my favorite jeans and wrapping sweatshirts around my waist to hide the stains, I figured out how to blend in. I had it worked out despite having a cycle that, for most other girls, would land them in the doctor's office. The pain was immeasurable, but I was told that there were many other girls who felt the same pain. The doctors said my flow would be normal once I matured. I couldn't have known I'd been lied to.

When I was 15, life became a blur. My inner turmoil broke loose and my parents saw it. My mother, who saw me as a beacon of hope, learned that there was no hope for me. She brought me to doctors who tried every medication they could to help my psyche. Every medication helped sedate me for a short while and then I would spiral again. I would end up in the ER, wishing I wouldn't cling to my life. I wished I had some control over the forces that kept me alive and destroyed me. I wished I could destroy myself. I couldn't have known that this wouldn't be the end of me.

When I was 16, I felt I was already dead. All the memories and love for life that I had collected as a child were tainted by the fresh trauma of being in lockdown facilities. I was still on medication that didn't work. It only numbed me. It only allowed the inner turmoil to simmer undetected. The scars on my body grew in numbers. I couldn't have known that I would live to be an adult with those same scars.

When I was 17, I was trapped in a relationship with another boy. He would say he loved me and then call me a bitch an hour later. He would say he loved my body and then violate it on the same day. He said he would love me no matter what, but when I asked him if he would kindly stop calling me a woman, he laughed. I was with him for two painstaking years. I couldn't have known that the threats he always gave me when I tried to end the relationship were empty.

When I turned 18, I was freshly out of yet another psychiatric hospital. I cried a lot that day. I didn't want to be an adult. I never wanted to grow up in such a horrid way. I looked back at my teenage years and wondered what forces were really behind this. I wondered if maybe there was a deity and they hated me. I couldn't have known it would get worse.

After I turned 19, I told my parents I wasn't a girl. My mother said she already knew. She had stopped attending church due to the other members' hateful words towards the community she suspected her children belonged to, but she still often cries out to her deity whom she loves. My father didn't really understand, but that didn't stop me from going on HRT with the health insurance his job provides. He didn't seem to care to stop it either. My parents were desperate for anything that might make me their beacon of hope again. We couldn't have known that my curse would prevail even through male puberty.

I'm almost 20. My scars are healed and I refuse to make more. I have come to terms with the fact that I'm disabled. I've also accepted the fact that the many ways I hurt my body have stunted my growth. I'm still in the process of getting diagnosed, but I feel like I'm dying every day. I self-medicate at the beginning of every waking moment to numb the pain. My doctors say I should stop self-medicating and then run tests that tell us nothing about the specific horrors of my body. My joints hurt more and more as time goes on. Every single one of them. My muscles are always weak. Pelvic pains and bleeding persist even though I got an IUD inserted and my doctors told me that the intense dysphoria that plagued me monthly was a thing of the past. Now, instead of bleeding monthly, I bleed every day. Eating hurts. Walking hurts. Using the bathroom hurts, and on top of that, I have to use the women's bathroom when I'm in public and fear for my safety regardless. I don't sleep well. I don't think well. And I'm so exhausted. I don't know what to do. I know I will look back on this and think, "You couldn't have known." But it still feels so hopeless. For so many years all I wanted was to destroy myself and now that I'm falling apart, I don't want to be. I worry that HRT has worsened my symptoms but even if that were so, I would still be subjected to bodily horrors without it. I'm not sure there is a way to lift this curse.

I don't know what you, as the reader, are supposed to take away from this post. I just need to say something. I suppose if you are not a trans person, you could gain some sympathy from this post. If you wonder why puberty blockers work and are advocated for, here's an example of the trauma that puberty can instill in a child. I'm a walking example of it. I have the scars to prove it. If you are a trans person, I suppose you could take away from this that you are not alone. We all have stories and I say we should tell them, even if some people are not willing to hear. Even if they resemble body horror in some cursed way. I need to share my story before it eats me up inside.

Also, if you are a trans person, I want you to remember that in many instances, you couldn't have known what to do. I want you to continually remind yourself that you aren't to blame. I often wonder why this is my curse. I want to feel trans joy and I do, but I still hurt. I wonder what I did to deserve this. I wonder when this will be over. I guess I can't know that either.

The story of my body is with you, Tumblr. FF

#transgender #trauma dump #trans ftm #gender dysphoria #puberty

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gratisdiamanten · 1 year

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if it’s not too late for the wip game i’m really curious about apokatastasis! love ur writing style

My friend calls it “slow burn eternally pre-slash” which is a pretty good way to describe it? Kind of dark but mostly kind of heavy and expansive. Almost everyone has died in a pandemic and like a small group all scattered is trying to pick up the pieces.

Daniel abandoned his family six months into it—he’s 16 and angry and scared and he lies to them that he’s heading out to find food but he leaves them presumably to die. He’s violent in the initial months on his own fighting for food. But that fades as time passes and there are fewer people who are more tired and at this point you’ve either banded with a group or died.

As things start to slow, Max is very young at this point, like 8, and he starts following Daniel and refuses to leave even when Daniel threatens him. Jos had descended into religious psychosis in the final months of collapse and was planning to kill them and Sophie made him and Victoria go outside and run in opposite directions and never look back. So he’s frightened and has been abandoned by groups or adults multiple times at this point and just wants someone to protect him, so despite the fact he’s beginning to starve he tries to offer Daniel some of his food to convince him to let him stay. This kind of annoys Daniel because now he would feel bad leaving him. But he keeps him around and eventually Max shares his sleeping bag bc it’s November now and very cold. He tries to take care of Max, because he’s all he’s got left. But Max had gotten sick, just hadn’t died. He lapses into illness often.

Max barely remembers the world before. He collects magazines… looks at pictures of homes and picnics and weddings and celebrity drama. Tries to read books but they kind of bore him. He likes the pictures. He saves them by the stack, asks Daniel questions all the time. One time during the winter, they’re dying of cold with no tinder for the fire, and Max offers his magazines. Daniel feels so guilty. Max says I won’t be able to find more if we die, Daniel, it’s okay.

When Max is 13-14, they come across an old vacation cabin by a lake, which is reasonably constructed, an old dusty bed inside and a couple small rooms. And they try and build a home there. Daniel sees Max familially- kind of as a son/brother/best friend, but Daniel’s literally all Max had ever had, so of course Max falls for him :( and Daniel keeps refusing him. So he’s caught between upsetting Max (refusing him) and harming him (giving him what he wants) and it kills him how he has to comfort him so often while he’s the one causing the pain. But he’s clinging to his humanity and his responsibilities and trying to make up for the family he abandoned. He loves Max. Just won’t in that way.

Anyway Max grows more sick over the years, intermittently having times that promise recovery, and Daniel grows frightened some nights that he won’t wake up. Ear to his chest fingertips in the hollow of his throat. Feeling for the thread-tug of his pulse. And then Max wakes up and touches his hand there. And Daniel aches bc he can feel him leaving him every day

Max passes when he’s 19 :( Daniel never wanted him to die by himself but Max dies when Daniel leaves for the first time in days to hunt. Max would have been relieved he didn’t see it. Anyways. The suffocating greenness of a landscape recovering from humanity mocking it with its growth and life :) the stifling smell of the forest the indifferent chorus of birds even as Daniel buries him!

Addition: kind of reader’s choice if Daniel has grown to reciprocate by the end but he can’t tangibly as like. A character mechanism. Like the point of this Daniel is him trying to preserve old norms trying to stay Human. Anyway. Kind of emotionally a choose your own adventure

#asks #anon #apokatastasis

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notsufjanstevensblog · 8 months

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Chinni. She was our family dog. A black pomeranian. She was a size of a cat when we first bought her. No. Took her away from the locals because they told us chinni was “too harsh”. I was around 12-13? I guess? I’m not sure. Soon chinni was a part of our broken family. Broken on all terms- family, finance, health, a happy home, you name it. Chinni was a hope that we all clinged on to. On our lousy days, our tired sundays, our evenings when all of us were really tired of whatever we spent the day doing, our mornings when mom & dad woke me up to catch that bus right on time and so many other days when life slapped our face to reality. We used to feed chinni 2 biscuits every evening and now that I think of it, maybe it took only 2 of those buiscuits was all that it took for our simple lives with chinni. Ruthless human being I am, I barely spent anytime with her. My mom and younger sister used to pet her so much and I never understood. But I just gave up one day and tried playing with her but it didn’t do me any good. Let me also tell you that i’ve always hated pets. For a person who is very conscious about cleanliness and hygiene, I was very particular about even touching chinni in the beginning. To my favour, chinni was very good and aware about everything around her. She never disturbed me and just sat with me, catching flies in the air. I don’t think it ever caught one- idiot. It used to be very delusional and chew something random on the floor. I always used to shoo it away because you don’t want your mango-eating-sunday-afternoons with chinni! I mean, come on.

Then we all grew up. Times changed. We shifted to a new house. Things were pretty great. I didn’t like the change but just like everyone else, I got used to it. I was admitted in a boarding school. I loved it there. I was a cute church going wanna-be christian girl reading bible and quoting psalms. I used to go back home every sunday to wash my hair and scrub my skin. My mom kept screaming at how tanned by back and my hands or legs were or how my hair keeps falling off in bunches. On a random sunday, I remember this very vividly. On a random sunday, I was sitting there after this very petty argument with my elder sister crying and holding a piece of chicken that my mom cooked everytime we came home from hostel. Chinni came sniffing and I threw it far far away. Chinni brought back the piece in her mouth, un-eaten. I was confused. I wasn’t going to eat that, so i told “chinni, you eat”. And chinni did. I went back home and mom had another one for me. I never really noticed chinni. I just knew she was watching me from under my car or the corner she always occupied in our car garage.

Times changed very rapidly. I was in my 2nd year of college. Dad was hospitalised with acute kidney infection stage 4. Dad sat on the garden wall and spoke to people for hours. Chinni just sat there with him, catching flies in the air. I mean literally that. Dad used to pat chinni a few times and look at the sky. He used to yell at all of us for not feeding chinni and cleaning her. By the end of covid pandemic, our family had gotten a little closer and I couldn’t have asked for more. I loved it. It was mundane and simple. I came to LOVE chinni. Chinni used to come wherever me and mom and my sister used to go to walk. Slowly, wagging its tail, barking at basically nothing. We had a favourite jackfruit tree in our fields where me and mom used to gossip about people closer to us. It was fun. Chinni used to sit there and act as if she knew what we were speaking and I used to just pat chinni and wash hands and legs off of the dust and her hair everytime I returned back home. Chinni was old. Infact, I never knew how old she was.

By now times had severely changed. Dad was diagnosed with covid-19 and had a pulmonary infection with underlying health issues. Chinni kept crying. Perhaps she knew her family wouldn’t be the same anymore. Chinni used to howl. I didn’t think she could do that until that point. My dad kept giving her buiscuits. But how many of them will she need to tune down the thoughts of her not having the same family in a few days and losing one of her best friends? And the world fell apart for chinni. My dad passed away. Now chinni was no one. Nothing. Just another dog. She couldn’t cheer us anymore. She couldn’t smile or eat anymore. Chinni only used to eat food when we had kept it on a plate and left. Chinni never ate food infront of any of us. I saw chinni’s teeth in the garden and I knew chinni was also getting old. I tried to be there for her as much as I could but I was broken enough to an extent to know that it would not be able to fix her. I just used to sit with chinni with a glass of tea in my one hand and phone in the other.

Chinni wanted her dad. To tell her stories telepathically. I could never be her. I could never listen to anyone’s stories in my family without being judgemental. Chinni started getting sadder and sadder. Chinni never came near our house now. It sat there quietly in a garage. It could barely see or bark. I went back to university and everytime I kept waving at her assuming she could see. Only if she were here to know that I would wave at her a million more times. Chinni’s hair was falling off. I never spent time with chinni anymore because she reminded me of the time that my life was at its best. It was a dream, a dream that had already passed. I didn’t want to fight to have it again. Very recently I went to meet chinni and she was fine. I had not talked to her for the past few months. So I fed the leftovers and came back home.

My uncle was very annoyed at the rat that kept roaming in the garage. He threw a big ass stick aiming the rat but chinni got hit. It was horrible. She got hit and her hip broke. Chinni kept crying. I couldn’t take it anymore. I came home and cried my heart out. All of us cried. We could never see chinni again. And 3 days later, chinni had passed away. I wasn’t informed. I went home and took 2 biscuits from the snacks drawer in our kitchen and then my mom told me chinni had passed away. Now that I come to think of it, I only have regrets. I could’ve maybe touched chinni more often. Played with her more often. Fed her her favourite treats. I could’ve done so much more but I’m happy that I atleast have regrets that keep me up at night reminding chinni- the best company I’ll ever have.

#dogblr #writerscommunity #mundane

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dragons-ire · 2 years

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13. Confluence

When you decided you wanted to have a life outside of expectations, you didn't imagine it would cost them their l-

Stop.

When you tried to come back, you didn't imagine it would cost you your so-

Stop.

Go back. Do it again. Be kinder.

When you were spinning your lance in your foster-fathers hall, imagining it as the crowbar that would leverage you out of your unhappiness…

Keep going.

…you never anticipated how it would look to see the faces of ordinary strangers. Relieved to have a night, a sennight, the rest of their lives of peace. You didn't think about how people looked when they looked into the sky to see clouds and snow and nothing else so threatening.

Better.

When you were made to sit down and share your dinner with a girl that shied away from you like you were a monster in a fairy tale, you didn't think about the day she'd hand you a key to her apartment, a steady flow of coin, a kind of purpose when you'd believed there was nothing else purposeful for you in this world.

When you spent long hours practicing speech with a man who came from nowhere, it was nice to have someone who listened to you. Neither of you had a future then. You weren't expecting him to hand you a hammer and put you to work. Building the house that perhaps both of you wished had been there for you years ago.

When you offered her an out and a chance at a fresh life, you imagined she'd cling around you and then move on and one day she'd be gone. You didn't anticipate that she would still be here. That she would tell you every day she finds new ways to want to be.

When agree to help a man fight his own mother, and you think that the operation will fall apart when its done. It doesn't, but you stay anyways. You work and you work, and when he dosn't say much about your work, it seems like it might not be enough. But you hear his voice from across a crowded room saying something else: He's…he's my friend.

When you held your hand out to her - someone you'd called an enemy for all of a bell - it just seemed like the fair thing to do. You hadn't quite imagined what would happen after she took it.

When she tells you things like this is the best job I've ever had, you know better than to ask what the previous ones were like. You don't think about where your bad ones have been. You look for ways to make this one better.

When you found here out there in the woods, it was simple - just help her get down and on her way. You never imagined she'd come looking for you - that meeting someone once would cause them to worry for you at all, much less ht much.

You'd spent your entire life being told your life was meant for service and sacrifice with a kind of insignificance attached to it. You do what seems like the right thing and you move on and you think everyone does it.

Everyone does not.

They all come back and they all say the same thing: you are a good person.

On your best days you almost believe them.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #there is a love in me raging #DBT: Dragoon Behavioural Therapy

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papirouge · 1 year

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Hi!! sorry for the late response, you answered my ask about jpop idols, thannk you so much for such a thoughtful answer!!!

Honestly when i was younger i was really into mostly hello!proyect, so i know that they had literally child groups with berryz and cute, whose younger member was 8 years old! It was pretty creepy how they would make those photobooks with them posing on bikinis as soon as they turned 13 or 14.

I also really loved perfume, it used to be my favorite group, but like you said nakata got lazy and started prioritizing other acts around the level 3 era, and it really got cemented with cosmic explorer, which is when i started to lose interest in them. Their costumes also used to be so good, creative, and designed thoughtfully for each girl, but now its always the same costume except achan gets the longer skirt, kashiyuka the shorter skirt, and nocchi gets the shorts. Even the fabric is visibly cheaper. I feel like the only one who still cares is mikiko as her choreographies are still good.

But i dont know who that artist you mentioned is, but i'm interested in hearing the story 🍵

Japan is EXTREMELY problematic when it comes to child sexualization and the fact that rightoids who are constantly blaming the left for entertaining sexuality degeneracy....have no problem sporting anime pfp/watch anime is everything you need to know about how much of clowns those people are 🥴 They don't care about child abuse, they just pretend they do to dunk of their political opponents.

They try to cope saying it's "cultural" but Japan is currently recording an increase of sexual crimes, so...why would they defend a culture suspected of increasing sexual assault coming from a country struggling to contain their own sexual predator? 🤔 Also why the "it's cultural" argument shouldn't be used for honor killing and child marriage then ? Oh my bad, it's Muslims so this time we can finally admit it's a problem 🤡

To be fair with Perfume, they've been around since ~20 years now, so it makes sense their concepts are starting to become more rehashed. Nakata is a VERY derivative artist (even when he tried something new after he discovered future bass, he shoved this sound in everything he made around that time, whether it was on his own album 'Digital Native' or Perfume song "If you Wanna" lol.

The concept of them having distinctive outfits (as you said, longer dress/skirt for A-chan it's said that's bc she has wider hips which aren't considering a good feature in Japan, shorter dress/skirt for Kashiyuka, and shorts for Nocchi) goes back to their debut, and I think it's incredible they sticked to it for so long (especially since they also have respective hairstyle code - Nocchi has never been able to have hair longer than her chin for most of her life.... 🥲), but yeah, after so many years.... it's starting to get old. But they're basically idols I don't think doing an イメチェン (= drastic change of style) would be well received...

In the era of streaming, the lowering of budget for music videos is global. Perfume last outstanding MV (great costume + set design + extras on set) was "Cling Cling"... which was released almost 10 years ago🥴 but other Japanese artists had a drastic drop in MV quality, included Ayu Hamasaki (the artist I talked about in my first reply).

She is Japan best selling artist of all times and her "Jewel" MV has been for a while listed in the most expensive music video of all times🥶💎

Ayu story is quite endearing because her dad abandoned her when she was a child and was edging on delinquency. She's from an era when random girls were being scouted in karaoke and producers propelled them into stardom, tho very few of them made it beyond one single (which was the case of Ayu who started... making rap LOL) but by an odd turn of events, she got another chance where this time she did pop and things eventually took off. What's interesting with Ayu is that despite being marketed as an idol at first, she from the start had control over her music/image: she wrote all her lyrics, choose to display her own (very distinctive) personal style, etc. By her sophomore album, LOVEppears, she endorsed a more daring image and in the following one, Duty, she dropped the cutesy idol thing to become more diva like and confident ...

That's also the time she started pulling out very disturbing music videos. There are A LOT of them, but I'd say "Ladies Night" is the one who stuck the most with me (which is weird bc the song is pretty positive : celebrating girlhood support)...but the MV is just unecessary creepy and dark. It starts off cute & goofy...only to become more and more scary & nightmarish 😰 WHY?

youtube

Her '(miss) understood' album era is pretty dark tbh ALL the MV of this album have this sad, dull, gloomy energy... Excellent album, but very dark energy

Thankfully there is "Fairyland" (which was also one of the most expensive MV of that time) to brighten up that energy

- Her 'Duty' and 'Party Queen' album booklet + SURREAL MV features full on sex kitten programming (it's interesting that "SURREAL" has subliminals about her -then- hidden relationship with Tomoya Nagase (another popular male entertainer of that time) and has a frenetic vibe which is very reminiscent of hypnosis/trance. I hate that it's one of my favorite MV of her 😓(the scenery is just soooo pretty).

youtube

- dissociation in "RAINBOW" and "Don't look back" MV

- mind control in "Alterna" and "Marionette"

- "Free & Easy" MV is a gigantic nod to Joan of Arc and apostolic martydom

youtube

- transhumanism in "Real Me" MV

Now that music videos don't have the same budget as they did 15-20 years ago, Ayu's MV aren't nowhere as elaborated as they were before (also her music has gone down to the toilets - she should've retire after her 10 years best of). But it's obvious she sold out to achieve this level of fame and success, therefore she had to shove all these twisted messages in her MV.

#answered #papi conspiracy #ayumi Hamasaki

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rebelbrat · 1 year

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There is one (1) coherent, entirely grammatically correct set of sentences in the entirety of Tobias’ trollfic POOGEYMON. Right at the end, underneath the last garbled Author’s Note, he wrote, “This fic is dedicated to my great-grandmother, Z”L. I made the world laugh, just like you wanted me to.” (Z”L is an abbreviation of the Hebrew phrase zikronah livrakha, or “may her memory be a blessing.”) Behind it, as behind a lot of things in Tobias’ backstory, is a story of grief and pain but also great happiness and joy.

Tobias’ great-grandmother Esther meant a lot to him--and to Pidge as well. She helped him process growing up through an incredibly traumatic time for his father’s people, the Fulsa people--because the Galra Empire absolutely was trying to stamp out any Galra ethnicity who had sworn off the drinking of sapients’ blood. (Tobias didn’t see most of the war or its effects until later on in his life, but growing up during such a time affected his mental state more than he was aware of or willing to admit.) Pidge was in the same boat because the Galra Empire were actively trying to harvest and feed on her people, the Alteans--and given how close Pidge and Tobias were, Pidge was effectively also Esther’s great-grandchild who she also showered in love, understanding and support. They shared so many things together, both in happy and in serious times. She had lived for so long--over a hundred years old at that point--and lived for long enough to be a huge part of Tobias’ childhood. So when she finally passed, it absolutely devastated him.

Esther’s death was Tobias’s first major loss, and he found it incredibly difficult to cope. With his dad abusing him, with his life growing more serious as his war duties loomed larger on the horizon as he got older, it hit him even harder than it ordinarily would have. He was only 12-13 at the time, but even at that young age with all the stresses in his life already, it made him want to kill himself. (His dad was also patently unhelpful, only giving him some mumbo jumbo about how it happens to every immortal and you just gotta get used to losing people who don’t live as long as you.) He felt so lost and uncomforted, especially with a major source of emotional support and guidance gone from his life and seemingly replaced by nothing but his father’s cold utilitarianism. But there was one thing that he always remembered and tried to cling to: His great-grandmother’s parting words. She told him that his best quality was his capacity to bring joy to people, and she told him, “There is so much suffering in this universe. Make the world smile. Make the world laugh.” Pidge had been there too on Esther’s deathbed to hear those words, and it was her who reminded Tobias of them: Don’t lose yourself in grief, she said. Find laughter and share it, just like she wanted you to.

And so he did. And so the two of them banded together to make the whole world--no, the universe--erupt in laughter that Esther surely shared from beyond the grave.

#the calm and the chaos. || HEADCANON

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aspen-in-da-crater · 2 months

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DREAMER - does your muse have any recurring dream? if not, what was their worst nightmare?

And!

CHEATING DEATH - what does your muse think about death? are they afraid of it?

oh ummmm that first one is kind of like. hard to answer cause i actually don't sleep that much tbh,,, it isnt a thing where i just refuse to sleep or like im overworking myself i grew outta that phase but like i havent been able to sleep properly at all for as long as i can remember (ALSO YES IVE TRIED CUTTING OUT CAFFEINE IT DIDNT WORK) so i dont really dream thatttt much. but recently when ive managed to get to sleep ive had this dream where like. it reminds me of this one fairy tale (read: reading comprehension passage) i really liked when i was younger called marzia and the seven harlequins. i talk about it more here. (https://www.tumblr.com/aspens-lab-moved/740062909838884864/whats-a-book-that-features-your-favorite?source=share) but basically in the dream i take the role of marzia and eight other people (none of whom i recognize?? which is kinda weird) take the roles of her friends. but basically what happens is i turn like 13 in the dream and my pichu and i set out on this journey where basically we have to reset this timer in order to prevent the world from being destroyed by 'god.' so as we journey throughout the land over the course of 5 years we meet these people and we become friends and they join my cause. along the way my pichu also eventually evolves into a raichu. what happens is like basically each of these eight friends start to go missing one by one, until theres only me, my raichu, and one last friend left with his raichu. and the two of us keep going on our journey to reset the timer and stop god from destroying the world and when we get to wherever we're supposed to be stopping god there's an altar at the very top of this tower which is on top of a mountain. when we find god, whos like just sitting on the altar having a good time ig, we realize that our friends went missing because every time we got closer he was taking them as sacrifices to make him stronger. then he takes my raichu and our last friend as the final sacrifices and its just me and this eevee left to reset the timer and make sure god doesnt destroy the world and basically like the eevee evolves into an umbreon and we're able to reset the timer and destroy god because he didnt realize that the timer doesnt function on sheer power but its cause like love and hope and devotion are how it chooses its master so its reset but in the process the umbreon and i are killed, but we wake up to this really bright light, where we're meant to spend all of eternity together all alone because we're dead and we have to watch over the timer now in order to reset it next time and next time and next time because that way nothing changes and the timer can always be guaranteed to be reset and then i start crying in the dream and then i wake up its a weird fuckin dream and then for the second one . its kind complicated ig. im not going into detail for kind of obvious but i do have a few experiences regarding death and stuff and they definitely had an effect on me. i wouldn't say i necessarily fear death. i don't want to die but at the same time if i were to be killed i wouldn't try to fight all that hard yk? like if it happens it happens. theres not a whole lot i can do about that. im going to die anyway. all i can really do is love the people i love while i can and hope that when i say i love them they know i mean it and try to live a life that i won't regret when my time comes. and i dont really mean that in a yolo way but i moreso just wanna like. pay attention to my life and the world around me and i wanna pay attention to what i pay attention to. i dont want to die but if it happens i dont want to waste time trying to cling to life when i could be doing something better with my time

#pokeblogging #pkmn irl #rotumblr #rotomblr #aspen replies #tw death #tw nightmares

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hack-5-minute-crafts-h6 · 2 years

Text

34 Five minute hacks ideas | hacks, 5 minute crafts, how to cook pasta

💾 ►►► DOWNLOAD FILE 🔥🔥🔥 YouTube is full of baking hack videos, from 5-minute crafts to So Yummy and others. These videos seem to always go viral, and this seems to be simply because they hit all the sweet spot of YouTubes search algorithm. What YouTube cant see, is that a lot of these are actually very dangerous or should at least come with some warnings. Here are the top 5 YouTube dangerous food hacks. Basically these channels are content farms, a content farm is like a video factory. They produce endless amounts of video content for their you tube channel which is exactly what the YouTube algorithm wants. Videos that people just binge watch. A lot of Crafts channels have this same format and editing style. But what happens when the recipe is actually dangerous and can hurt or even worse kill you? I am embedding the videos in this post but please be aware that these are dangerous and can cause serious harm and bodily injury so DO NOT try these at home. So Yummy released a video titled How to make caramel and chocolate desserts which features various Caramel hacks. One of them is the video of a hand mixer that has hot caramel poured over it while spinning. Never a great idea! Her expression really says it all, watch the full video here:. Yes, somehow 5-Minute Crafts thought its a great Idea to teach kids how to bleach strawberries white. But I am sure they added a warning that these are not edible afterwards??? The video has since been removed from the compilation but had already gathered more than 1. Below is a screenshot of the video prior to its removal. Yes, this is no joke. Someone at 5 Minute crafts actually thought it would be a great idea to use Activated Charcoal in an Ice Cream recipe. Activated Charcoal side effects include diarrhoea, constipation, vomiting, and blockage of the digestive tract. This Ice Cream will be a scoop to remember! Also, dry ice can injure you and burn off your skin or even fingers. If someone suggested you wrap your face with cling film three times to avoid Onion tears you would think they are pulling your leg. But what if you told that to a 6 or 7 year old child? Believe it or not but Crafty Panda suggests that you wrap your face with cling film to avoid Onion tears. A video that has almost 5 million views and is mostly made by younger kids or teens shows how you can wrap your face with cling film to prevent crying when cutting onions. No warning of the dangers involved with wrapping your face with an airtight material what so ever. I am in awe and shock every time I see this video and I am surprised it has not been taken off YouTube. In a year-old Zhe Zhe and year olf Xiao Yu tried a popcorn hack video they saw online. The video showed how two soda tins and some alcohol could make popcorn. This resulted in an explosion that killed the year-old and severely burned the year-old girl. YouTuber Ms Yeah received a lot of social justice as she had a video on her YouTube page that showed this process. This does not reverse the damage but she did take responsibility in some way. When you see a video hack that is potential dangerous the first thing you should do is report it to YouTube. Disliking and commenting on the video actually has a positive effect on the video ranking. I know you might be tempted to add a warning or dislike but by doing that you achieve the opposite, the YouTube algorithm will see interaction with the video and will only rank it higher in the search results. So the best thing you can do is Report and leave in this instance. Food Advertisements by. Other Recipes You May Enjoy. Why is it called the Granny Smith Apple? August 13, Four Delightful Desserts from Austria September 28, Say hello to our little Friend, Dio November 11, Notify of. I allow to use my email address and send notification about new comments and replies you can unsubscribe at any time. Recipe Rating Recipe Rating. Inline Feedbacks. Load More Comments. Never Miss a Recipe! Join our Newsletter and receive all our latest recipes directly into your email. No, thanks. Close and continue browsing. Close Search for: Search.

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havenoffandoms · 3 years

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Hey congrats on 900 followers! Would I be able to request the touch starved prompt from your list with the pairing Aiden/Lambert please? Love all your writing!

Hello!! Thanks for requesting this prompt and this pairing! I’ve been on a right Lambden kick recently, so I felt inspired. I hope you like it!

Prompt 13: Touch-Starved

Pairing: Aiden x Lambert

Warnings: None

Prompt List

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together. Being stabbed to death in his sleep comes to mind, or having Aiden go all batshit crazy if Lambert dared to beat him at Gwent. Lambert has heard many rumours about Cat witchers in his long life. Cats are batshit crazy. Cats are emotionally volatile. Cats are backstabbing sons of bitches… literally and metaphorically. Cats are bad. Cats are evil, etc, etc. All these rumours circulated in Kaer Morhen long before Lambert even set foot in that ramshackle castle. He was too young to have witnessed the Tournament, but he heard the older witchers talk. Later in his life, when only a handful of wolf witchers were left after the sacking, Eskel gave Lambert a more detailed account of the Tournament.

“The Cats betrayed us, went on a rampage. Killed many wolf witchers in the process. Geralt and I lost many friends that day,” Eskel told him one evening, when the oldest surviving wolf was too far in his cup to notice that he was oversharing. “Radowit’s court mage Astrogarus promised the Cats monopoly on killing monsters within Kaedwen in exchange for attacking the Wolves during the tournament. Turns out Radowit was a backstabbing motherfucker himself. He ordered his soldiers to shoot all of the remaining witchers of both schools in the arena.”

“Lemme guess,” Lambert spoke, his own speech slightly slurred, “pretty boy saved the day?”

Eskel shook his head. “Fled. Mousesack helped him escape the massacre. Poor bastard never forgave himself for abandonin’ our brothers, but what choice did he have?”

Don’t get Lambert wrong. He’s not saying that Aiden is harmless, far from it. The guy’s lethal with his swords, deadly with a pair of daggers, not to mention a stealthy and clever thief. Aiden is mercurial, hot-tempered and a bit feral when he wants to be, and his morals are at best dubious. Whereas wolf witchers had their emotions beaten out of them at a young age, cat witchers feel too much, too strongly. Lambert’s witnessed Aiden flip tables when peasants beat him at Gwent, but he’s also witnessed the Cat shed a tear after bringing the news to a mother that her son did not survive the ghoul attack two villages down the road.

Lambert was apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but the Cat had never ceased to surprise him. The most unexpected trait Aiden has displayed to date is his insatiable need for physical contact. It’s not like Lambert hates being touched - he’s only human, albeit a mutated one, but still human. He enjoys a hug as much as the next person, especially when said hug comes from one of his brothers (or, dare he say, Vesemir) at the end of a long and difficult year on the Path. Lambert has also never begrudged a bed partner a post-coital cuddle session. Aiden’s need for physical contact is… on a whole different level.

The first time it happened, Lambert almost shoved the Cat off him and sent him packing, until he realised that Aiden was not only hugging him, but clinging onto him. His sharp nails were digging in the soft material of Lambert’s shirt, the fabric creaking in protest under the firm grip. When Lambert looked down, he noticed the pinched eyebrows and tears trailing down Aiden’s face. It wasn’t until a broken sob pushed past the Cat’s lips that Lambert reluctantly returned the embrace, arms wound tightly around Aiden’s trembling body. Aiden eventually settled in the safety of Lambert’s arms, his features softening as he sank back into a peaceful slumber.

Neither mentioned the previous evening’s impromptu cuddling session, but from that moment one, it was like someone had flicked a switch. Aiden came up with every possible fucking excuse to touch Lambert. Their hands would always accidentally graze each other when they packed up camp, or tacked up the horses. Aiden would bump shoulders with him when they were travelling on foot. If they sat next to one another in a tavern, Aiden would press his leg against Lambert’s, and if they were facing each other, a tentative foot would gently nudge Lambert’s shin and linger there. It’s not like Aiden was trying to hide his intentions, either. They rarely paid for two rooms anymore, because even if they did, Aiden would always end up in Lambert’s bed anyway, arms wound around Lambert’s body like a koala clinging to its mother.

Lambert doesn’t hate Aiden’s need for physical proximity, he’s just… confused by it. Aiden rarely takes any lovers to bed, even though he clearly craves physical intimacy. Lambert is more than happy to cuddle with Aiden, especially when they are forced to sleep under the stars and the early autumn frosts begin to settle over the region. It saves them from lighting a campfire, which may attract the wrong kind of attention to them. That’s all that’s ever transpired between the two, though… cuddling. Lambert enjoys the cuddling as much as Aiden does, but for Aiden it seems to be about more than mere enjoyment. The Cat simply refuses to go without physical intimacy which at times can be… alright, it can feel overbearing, but Lambert’s not about to complain, not when most humans turn away from him in disgust and contempt when he tries to chat them up.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Aiden almost develops a form of separation anxiety. He refuses to let Lambert out of his sight, going so far as to follow the man everywhere, and that’s the moment when Lambert snaps.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he asks, his tone hiding none of the irritation he feels at being tailed by this overgrown tomcat. Aiden stops dead in his tracks, his eyes growing wide at Lambert’s words.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been following me since this morning… I have errands to run and it’s hard to do that when you’re breathing down my neck!”

Lambert instantly regrets his words the minute they leave his mouth. Aiden’s shoulders visibly sag at Lambert’s comment, his content expression melting into something sadder and the sight tugs at the wolf’s heartstrings in all the wrong ways. Aiden averts Lambert’s eyes shyly, the tip of his ears turning a pretty shade of pink as embarrassment washes over him. Lambert heaves a sigh. Way to act like a fucking dick.

“Sorry, Aiden. I… I didn’t mean to sound like an ass, but-”

“It’s alright, I… I knew this moment would come eventually.”

“What are you talking about?” Lambert asks, a confused frown etched on his face. Aiden doesn’t look at him when he replies in a voice far too small to belong to the lethal, cocky witcher Lambert has come to know over the past few months.

“You’re gonna ask me to leave for good. I get it. I… I’ll go back to the room and pack my things.”

As Aiden turns around to leave, Lambert’s hand shoots out and grabs a hold of Aiden’s wrist. Before Lambert’s brain has a chance to catch up, he finds himself pulling Aiden into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes of judgemental humans meandering the stalls of the midweek market. Aiden looks so unsure now, so vulnerable like this, and it makes Lambert want to wrap the Cat up in warm blankets and cuddle him and forget the world for a while. Instead, he settles on pressing Aiden’s back against the wall and draping himself around the Cat witcher as much as he can.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lambert breathes in the air pocket between them as he locks eyes with Aiden, “you’ve just been… especially clingy recently. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Aiden averts his eyes once again, but Lambert is quick to grip the other man’s chin and force Aiden to meet his gaze. Even that simple touch pulls a small hiss from Aiden, whose eyes flutter shut as he relishes in the feeling of Lambert touching him anywhere. Lambert purses his lips, eager for an answer.

“Aiden-”

“Winter is around the corner,” Aiden whispers, his tongue darting out to lick his suddenly dry lips. Lambert’s frown deepens.

“And?”

His question is met with a pointed eye roll from Aiden.

“And… wolves return to their dens for winter, don’t they? I was just… enjoying the last few weeks in your company before you leave and never come back.”

As the final piece of the puzzle slots into place, understanding dawns on Lambert. He pulls away from Aiden and the small whimper the loss of contact triggers does not go unnoticed. Something old and fragile aches in Lambert’s chest as the meaning of Aiden’s words sink in. Aiden isn’t just worried about being separated from Lambert for a few months, but he’s worried that Lambert will never come back.The wolf links his fingers with his Cat’s, squeezing softly as he leans into Aiden’s space and rubs his bearded cheek against Aiden’s jawline. The latter quickly melts under the soft ministrations, the soft content rumble deepening into a continuous purr as Lambert nuzzles the crook of Aiden’s neck.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Yeah, right,” Aiden snorts in response, “cause you’re so good with feelings and shit.”

“Not everyone’s a sappy sentimental bitch like you are,” Lambert teases gently, earning himself a half-hearted slap up the back of the head. “I don’t have to go back to Kaer Morhen this winter.”

Aiden tenses, his soft purring stopping abruptly as he takes in Lambert’s words. Lambert continues to rub his cheek against Aiden’s jaw, his neck, his cheek… wherever he can reach, the action meant to soothe the brewing storm in Aiden’s mind.

“It’s your home,” Aiden offers weakly, “I don’t want… I… it’s your home.”

“I can send a letter to the old man. Let him know I’m alive. We could find a den somewhere else… an attic somewhere, or an abandoned castle.” Lambert nuzzles the spot right behind Aiden’s ear, earning a pleased hum from the Cat. “Or you could come with me.”

“Sure. Cause that’s gonna end well…”

“That’s settled then. I’m spending winter with you.”

Aiden pushes Lambert away, their eyes meeting once again but this time, Aiden searches for any trace of a lie in Lambert’s amber gaze. He finds none, because Lambert is one hundred percent honest in his offer. He would ditch Vesemir, Geralt and Eskel for a year to spend it with Aiden… and the thought should scare him more than it does, truthfully. He’s only known the Cat for a few months, and yet… well, maybe Lambert was dreading the winter as well. How about that? It’s not like he felt equally anxious about leaving Aiden, it’s just… fuck off.

“You mean that?”

“Mhm. Fair warning… I hate the cold. If I’m spending the winter with you, you’ll have to find a way to keep me warm or I will bite your head off.”

In Aiden’s defence, he does keep Lambert warm all winter long. Their cuddling finally turns into something more, and from the moment Lambert and Aiden cross that fateful line there is no going back. Aiden becomes insatiable, always seeking Lambert’s body in some shape or form, never letting the wolf out of his sight again. Lambert may have been apprehensive about many things concerning Aiden when the two started travelling together, but it turns out that all his worries were for nothing. Turns out Cat witchers are still crazy, and feral, and mercurial… a tad possessive as well, something Lambert doesn’t hate... but they’re also the cuddliest sons of bitches on the Continent.

Lambert can live with that, he thinks.

Request a prompt.

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