Guardian of Nature ( Great Tree ) // Shape of Many ( reaction )

Witch Reader: How many times must I tell you I'm not interested.

"My love... I'll do anything to call you mine. If you will not belong to me.... I believe that little"accident" at the lake the other evening has strange enough causes to point fingers in your direction......."

Witch Reader: You wouldn't dare....

"All it takes is one rumor.. I'll give you a night to decide."

[As their guest leaves - Reader hears scratching at their window]

"meow?"

Witch Reader: Not you too... Go away, I've had enough trouble for one night.

[The next morning - Reader wakes to heavy pounding on their front door]

Witch Reader: ugh... what now?

[Reader opens their front door to find the little black cat that's been following them home on their doorstep. Its body shudders as it violently retches - form taking shape of a human's as it coughs, finally spitting out the blockage lodged in its throat. The eye rolls to a stop at Reader's feet - staring up at them coldly.]

Black Cat Hybrid Yan: I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble, Master. Look, I brought you a present so can I please come inside? It gets cold out here at night without you to hold

Witch Reader: Hm. That'll do, cat. Come in before anyone else see you.

Liveblogging real life part 2: Joel (it's been 12 13 days) (already watched)

Okay so maybe we'll do the liveblog-every-five-minutes-unless-something-crazy thing also idk if I should link this up to my intro post (idk how) or reblogged my og one with this oh well we'll figure it out why am I eating AGAIN doing this

I got inspired after rewatching secret life my beloved for the umpteenth time :P

Okay ep. 1/finale is hilarious and new "series" 😭

Joel why did you point out the cursor I can't take my eyes away

First batch

Joel jumping then immediately keeling over in nausea:

Idk how to respond to that but it struck a chord within me, how true

BigB wholesome waving but it also looks like his arm is BENT I can't get over VR arms man 😭

Punching BigB because he's so tall is so real tbh + love the smash cut to Gem being salty

Headpatting + baby-ish voice "little gem/Ren/skizz" what a gentleman makes me think of the try not to cry challenge or Jimmy's crazy christmas series where he says Joel is a crybaby and Gem says he's a romance guy in a mental gymnastics train of thought

Grian throwing his head back from the outside?! Cryptid behaviour

The real life vids don't make me motion sick but Joel making retching and vomiting sounds does NOT help it makes me sick by proxy or something I hate being disoriented and nauseous too buddy

There's probably a video out there of someone comparing regular mc to vr because vr just hits different like proportions wise

Joel noises

Love this Joel-Gem duo already idk how to describe it just fun

Also Joel having to process out loud he won't throw up on Gem I remember playing Richie's plank experience or whatever years and years ago shit was REAL

Joel's inventory becoming disorganized with things that can be stacked together :(

Hey what gem said kinda reminds me of what grian said :D at the end of his episode awful :DD

Poor Joel he's battling his height complex alongside his motion sickness (rip bozo poor little meow meow)

I think almost everybody had the problem of facing the wall dude, it's okay it's very silly

Water foreshadowing (he will swim with his future gang and become incredibly sick)

Geminislay that pig

Wait till Joel learns about lying down‼️‼️

JOEL STOP MAKING NAUSEOUS SOUNDS I'M GONNA FROW UP 👹

"...Falling in powdered snow" kinda reminds me of this short story I read in grade 9 English class "The Bamboo Trap" protag fell in The Bamboo Trap™ and got bitten by big ass spiders or something the idiot, also I think got published in the same anthology as the most dangerous game 👊

Joel admits to weakness

Weird ass snow, someone built this or something?

Joel with his arms out looks so silly, so does gem

Oh gem how graceful with the figure skating history 👊👊👊✌️👉✌️✌️🤜🤛🤛🤜🙏

Lol they learn about the wrist chat

Second batch

Jimmy, oh iconic Timmy

Shield (why did I write this again?)

Bi shoes, love seeing gem's skin wearing the bi shoes I forget about it every once in a while and when I see it again it's a pleasant surprise

Vr players learn to pvp

When you use the shield to block in first person it looks kinda stupid dude

Campsite vibes tbh, I really like it.

Bee spotted 🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝🐝 what is it doing

Shaky controller cursor over top chest plate I feel you

Falling irl indeed (recursive mention about plank)

LOUD holy moly Joel is loud (not negative)

Healf being something people can't look at at all times is actually a kinda funny mechanic

Smajor friendship aww when will they team up (did I forget about a series)

The poor beg for bread, we live in a society ✊😔

Grian killing??? Since when??? (Sarcastic)

Batch three

Peace and love is why they haven't died yet 😘

Arms again! Weird looking things

Hand gesture reminds me of that one diamond scar short with etho's greedy "I want the diamond" voice

Flint and steel? Weird looking thing

Omg red club looks like bugs, the way the trio gossips about them ♥️

Right no out messages...

Can't believe the most motion sick man gets in the water not once but TWICE this ep

Does he know

Where did the horse thing come from

Can't remember if I mentioned this but when the sword swings without critting in VR it looks so silly it pokes

A bugs life: the sequel

Club: deadly euphemism

Sword 😐

Something about jimmy doesn't get burnt...

Why is Jimmy jiggles the only one with a wooden sword???

Strong words from a man on the verge of mania 👀

Lol knowing impulse breaks the ground under Joel big brain man going for the kill

Something about the disappointed way Joel says "scar!" And scar stabbing him in the first caused this

Tim is so British he says "get in" so much

Joel, again exasperated, cries out "where's all my stuff?!"

Funny Minecraft men, my favourite funny Minecraft men

My god seeing from Joel's perspective his second death is from zombie

I think Joel was about to saying bluming + the cover behind house + the constant begging for his stuff back + violence as an answer (he hits men)

4

Oh scar up to no good again

JOEL GETS IN THE WATER AGAIN!!! MOTION SICKNESS WIN!

Joel and scar just did mitosis stop being scared of biology 🙄

What was Mr solidaritygaming doing in that hill and said yes to did he finally get iron?

Aw the silly arm motion I love greeting people with spirit fingers reminds me of that

GOON SQUAD?! (neuron activated)

Famous moment

Oh more famous moment here comes the smallidarity kiss

Love Tim's body language once again the sharp smooth head turn to grian he's like a cartoon character

(what grian mean they are suited and booted he cut this part out I don't remember the other povs 😢)

Leave it to solidaritygaming himself to be the most homoerotic straight man there is of course + Joel is still patting him on the head? + Timsel being cringefail needing to jump multiple times on ONE BLOCK + Joel did NOT need to lean that much he looks like he's powered by springs + Jim's arms always being so tight together. Makes him. Look like. An old granny??? + Joel IMMEDIATELY checking his wrist afterwards like it's a Tuesday and he's on break + homophobic GRIAN + impulse's dad delivery one liner

The more I watch smallidarity kiss the more bizarre and asinine it becomes to me 😀

When did Joel learn to button jump (he WAS mental for jumping irl irl)

Okay Joel cut out that canary comment why don't you 🙄🙄🙄

WHACK 💀 SHAKE YOUR HANDS REAL FAST 💀💀 JOEL SCREAM #3997 💀💀💀

Fond of Joel's cadence of saying "hello guys!" And "I'm coming in boys!" And "HAHA!" oddly musical

Okay aaaaaaand he dies worst ranking ever good for him the end

Idk if I should liveblog scar next or watch Ren because I've already watched up to skizz + me 'ead 'urts oh well

Ralis for the character ask thingy?

Very good one to start with. ^^

First impression:

I always found him interesting. I actually read a bit about him before doing his quest and I was immediately like 'Oh, gotta check this guy out!'

I did definitely think he was scamming me through most of his quest though. XD

Impression now:

Ralis is both awesome and has such a wet cat vibe I absolutely adore him. ^^ He can absolutely kick ass in a fight but also is just a poor little meow meow. I love this mer so much. XD

Favorite moment:

Honestly meeting him when he's digging away at Kolbjorn barrow.

"With me? What's the matter with you? Sorry, I've just had a lot of hork-faced cowards coming by to mock my efforts. Bah! It probably can't hurt to tell you. You look.... mostly honest."

Also in one of my playthroughs when I gave Ralis a bunch of invisibility potions and he kept using them randomly and I kept panicking because I thought I'd lost him. XD But I don't see that as canon to his character per say. Just random fun stuff that happened in my game. XD

Idea for a story:

I've been thinking of writing a story or even series of stories about his adventures with Mirni, and how they eventually got together. Either was part of a larger story about my TES OCs, or just a story on it's own. ^^

Unpopular opinion:

I love this guy. Yeah, doesn't seem like it would be unpopular but I've met some people who love to tell me how much they hate Ralis and how they killed him or even sacrificed him to Boethiah. Overall Ralis doesn't seem to be a very popular character.

Favorite relationship:

Maybe it's cheating but... Ralis and my OC Mirni. XD I ship them so much and I love drawing them together. They have such a fun and slightly disastrous relationship, but they definitely love each other. ^^

Also I like to imagine he and Teldryn kinda become friends while Ralis is living at the Retching Netch cornerclub. (I've seen some people ship Ralis and Teldryn which honestly... I'm totally okay with too. XD But for me Ralis and Mirni are the main ship, haha! )

(only art of Ralis and Teldryn together I have. XD I should draw them hanging out more)

Favorite headcanon:

He's touch-starved but being stubborn about it. XD Like this man needs to be cuddled so badly but hell if he's going to just admit to that!

(Luckily Mirni is pretty good at catching that kinda stuff. ^^ )

@snarkyship is a true genius. I commission this Stark Family Portrait and I couldn’t be happier. I wrote a little fic to accompany this fabulous Picture. hope you all enjoy.

Stark Family Picture Day

 By Sukora Kurai

  Tony sighed over the counter in the communal kitchen. He had been there since dawn when he asked Jarvis what day it was. Then his trusty AI informed him of an importance of this month. Now he was stuck with what to do now.

 “Hey Tony what’s got you down?”

 “Hey Capsicle, I’m doomed.”

 “Oh come on Tony, it can’t be that bad you are an Avenger.” Steve smiled as he got out food to make omelets for the Team, and greeted the in coming members. “Morning Nat, morning Bruce.”

 “Morning Steve, what’s wrong with Tony?” Bruce greeted heading to the stove to put the kettle on for his morning tea.

 “Not sure I found him like this.” Steve stated cracking some eggs into a bowl.

 “His and Loki’s anniversary is this month and he has no idea what to get him.” Nat answered pouring a large mug of coffee.

 Tony shot up in his seat and stared slack jawed. “How could you possibly know that?”

 “It’s my job as a shield Agent and Pepper’s PA to keep tabs on you. So it is well documented when you clumsily asked Loki to be your boyfriend during the Lord of the Rings Marathon where you bought out the AMC Theater for the day.” The Spy shrugged ignoring the fact that all her team mates stared at her in horror. All were now wondering what she had on them in those SHIELD files.

 “So Tony, you have and anniversary coming up? Have you though about what Loki might like?” Steve coughed drawing the conversation back to the main topic.

 “No, I don’t. What does one give a god especially one that has magic and can make anything appear out of thin air?” Tony waved his arms in frustration.

 “That is a tough one but I’m sure anything you get him will be fine. Loki loves you Tony.” Bruce tried to be supportive.

 “I hope you will be putting more thought into the gift you give me next month for our anniversary.” Nat gave the Gamma Doctor a pointed before wandering out of the room to start her routine before heading out to work.

 “Ha, I’m not the only one in hot water now!” Tony crowed at the look of devastation in his science-bro’s face.

 “Tony, knock it off. Now in my day it was the thought that counted most. You should find what Loki cherishes the most. You find that then you can present to him in a meaningful way. It’s true he’s a prince and probably has had his other lovers throw jewels and meaningless expensive trinkets at him to win his affections. You know Loki better because you love him and he loves you.” Steve pointed out.

 “Yeah, Lokes complains a lot about his life in Asgard and that there were many who wooed him just to get to Thor. At night when it’s just the two of us and RC snuggled between us he sighs soft and says what a perfect night it is. He never elaborates but I think it means that he likes just the quiet nights with us.” The genius eyes went glazed as he recalled the many nights he cuddled with his god. Then the idea hit him. “Hey Spangles, can you paint or do you just draw?”

 “Huh,” Steve was caught off guard and almost dropped the omelet he was flipping. “I paint from time to time.”

 “Don’t lie babe you are in your studio whenever can get the chance.” Bucky laughed entering the kitchen. “All the paintings in our apartment Stevie did.”

 “Great! Can you do a portrait if I get you a picture?” Tony asked digging in to the ham and cheese omelet.

 “Yeah, it might take two weeks maybe less depends on if we get called out or if SHIELD needs me.” The captain estimated placing another plate in front of his boyfriend.

 “As long as it’s done before the end of the month we’re good.  Jarvis start looking through my photos and pull out any possible portraits.”

 “Yes, sir.”

 “Delicious breakfast as usual Capsicle. I’ll get you the photo as soon as I find one.” Tony dumped his empty plate in sink and ran off to his lab.

 Two hours later…

 “None of these are good enough J.”

 “Sir, might I suggest you take a new photo of you and Prince Loki.”

 “Yeah and RC too, because she’s our baby. We can’t have a Family Portrait without all the family members. Where’s are RC now?”

 “She is currently with Alpine in his play room.”

 “Cool, I think I got the perfect outfit in mind.” Tony grinned as he ran to his emergency closet in the lab. Tony had put in the closet when he realized he destroyed a lot of his clothes during his inventing and building phases. Also there was a suit or two for the days he forgot he was supposed to be in a meeting and had to make a rush to the board room.

  In the penthouse…

  It had been a quiet morning with no call outs, no calls to Asgard and no need to go anywhere. Loki decided to enjoy the peace and quite lounging in his soft Asgardian casual clothes on the couch reading his mother’s spell journal.

 “Hey there, Bambi! It’s Picture Day!”

 “Anthony, what are you on about?” The prince looked up from his book to see his lover carrying their cat into the living room.

 “Well Picture Day refers to the day school kids take pictures for the yearbook and photos are bought for family distribution. Anyways I want to have a family picture that was honest. I never had that growing up because Howard was an asshole and Maria, my mother, was frail. She loved me but she couldn’t express it because she was always ill. Now we have our own little family and I want a picture to put in the lab.”

 “You want to take this picture now? Anthony, I look a mess and how did you get the bow on the cat?”

 “Aww, you look gorgeous, love, as always. Anyways, I put a bow on our baby because RC loves to look pretty for her daddies. Don’t you sweetie.” Tony scratched under the kitty’s chin as they sat on couch next to the god.

 “Mew,” RC purred.

 “Fine, you win, where would you like to take the picture? Also what are you wearing? I don’t believe I’ve seen that outfit before, and what is on your feet?” Loki set his book aside and took in his lover’s appearance.

 “Oh you like? I dressed in red and gold to match my shoes. I had these shoes made based on my Iron Man suit. I thought maybe putting them on the market for kids but I liked them too much to share. So I have a life time supply in the lab. If you want I can have a pair made for you.”

 “No thank you. They clash with my outfit. Now let’s take your picture.” Loki said taking the cat in his arms.

 “Okay, okay. Let me get out my phone.” Tony fished his Stark Phone out of his back pocket and held it out to make them all fit in the frame. “Okay say cheese!”

 “Click”

 “Okay let’s see how that one turned out.” Tony looked at the photo to see him smiling a black blur and a bland look on Loki’s face. “Nope we got try again. This time smile Loki and RC you need to stay still so we can see you.”

 And it went picture by picture they have yet to take a family portrait.

 “Shit I only got half your face.”

 “Anthony your thumb is on the lens.”

 “RC Stay still!”

 “Achoo! Ow! I dropped on my foot!”

 “Do not eat my hair you Retched Creature!”

 “Okay I set it up on a tripod. Now say cheese.”

 “CHEESE BROTHER!” Thor popped up between the two men who stared at shock at the blond god.

 “Next!” Tony rolled his eyes as Loki vanished his brother to where ever. Tony didn’t ask where the Loki sent Thunder god. He rather liked staying in the tower and wanted to keep it that way.

 “Meow!”

 “No RC! Don’t chase the bunny!”

 Three Hours Later…

 “Okay, this is it I can feel it. Now Jarvis is going to take the picture the bunnies are secure in their room. The penthouse is locked down, so no unexpected guest and RC is filled of milk to keep her calm and relaxed. And I promise after we get this picture I will have Jarvis order you favorite meal from the Thai Palace down the street and I’ll rub your feet, while we watch you favorite Harry Potter movies.”

 “Oh Anthony you spoil me. I love you.” Loki sighed as a soft smile graced his face and he leaned into his lover as Tony joined their hands together. RC who was seated now on the god’s shoulder leaned in and purred soaking up the love of her people. The genius couldn’t be happier in that moment as he had his to precious family members with him and the grin on his face was wide and bright.

 “Click.”

 Two Weeks Later…

 “Sir Prince Loki and Mr. Odinson have returned from Asgard.”

 “Great, I got everything ready. Tell Loki that I have dinner ready and waiting.”

 “Yes, sir.” Tony had the table set with Loki’s Favorite food from the five star steak house, they go to. He paid extra to have the chef come over and cook for their anniversary.

 “Ding.”

 “Thank you, Jarvis. Evening Anthony, never in my life had been so glad to leave Asgard. He talked for hours at the council over stagnant topics. What’s all this?”

 “Well my hard working God of Mischief, today is our one year Anniversary and I have planned the perfect evening. Dinner, a bath and I installed a movie screen in our bathroom so we can enjoy the movie of your choice during the bath and then I plan on us making love until dawn.” Tony pulled Loki over to the dinner table, watching as the god’s magic removed the armor and replaced it with comfortable Asgardian wear.

 “You lovely little man, you spoil me so; I don’t deserve it or you.” The Raven pulled the billionaire into his arms and planting kisses all over the man’s face.

 “Yes you do, because I love you and I got you something, well I got Cap to make it, but it was my idea.”

 “You didn’t have to, dinner is more than enough.”

 “No, I wanted to. Now close your eyes and I’ll get your present.” As Loki closed his eyes Tony ran out of the room and grabbed the portrait from where he hid it. He placed it on the wall then Jarvis turned on the lights illuminating the painting. “Okay open them.”

 “Oh Anthony! It’s wonderful.” Loki’s eyes became all misty seeing their little family together and there was so much love radiating from painting. “It’s perfect.”

 “Happy Anniversary Reindeer Games.”

 “Happy Anniversary, my Man of Iron.” Loki whispered pulling Tony in to the sweetest kiss they ever shared. They didn’t hear the click sound of Jarvis capturing the moment with the sunset background. Another memory to save for another day.

 The End.

i love you(r cats) 02

pairing: mingi x yunho (ateez)

warnings: swearing, nothing else i think

genre: strangers-to-lovers, romance, absolutely tooth-rotting fluff

summary: yunho goes over to mingis house, lots of tENsiOn~ oOh

wc: 1.8k

ao3 link<-

01-02-03-04-05

It had been about a week since Mingi had begun his new work schedule, and he was proud to say that he had finally settled into a sort of routine.

Every morning, Mingi would wake up early and feed his cats, get ready for work, and then take his cats to their daycare. He would blush and stammer every time Yunho talked to him, give his cats their well-deserved love and affection, and then dash out the door when he realized the time.

He would reach work a couple minutes too late, and would pant out an apology to his irritated coworkers, who were already used to Mingi’s dramatic arrivals and cat fur-covered suits.

That was the routine he had settled into, and he was happy with it.

Unfortunately, whoever made all the big decisions decided that Mingi needed a little spice in his life, and the chaotic peace of his mornings was abruptly, rudely shattered one Monday morning.

Mingi woke up to a violent kind of retching sound. Tripping out of bed half-asleep and panicked, Mingi ran to go check up on his cats.

He found Cinnamon with her back contorted into a kind of horribly twisted arch, Nutmeg mewling pathetically next to her. Fear shot through Mingi, and he ran to the phone. With trembling hands, he punched in the number that Yunho had pressed into his hands one morning with strict instructions to only call if there was an emergency.

“Hello? Who is this?”

Yunho’s voice soothed Mingi’s wildly beating heart like salve over an angry red wound.

“I- it’s Mingi.”

“What- Mingi, what’s going on, are you okay? Are your cats okay?” Yunho’s tone switched from politely confused to concerned in lightning speed, sending a fresh wave of emotion through Mingi.

“It’s Cinnamon. She’s-” Mingi stopped speaking, his throat suddenly clogged with tears. Where did those come from?

Yunho’s voice was like a life preserver, floating just within Mingi’s reach. Mingi reached up through the veils of his tightly knotted emotions, just able to grab on.

“Mingi, can you tell me your address? I know you’re worried, baby, but I promise she’s gonna be just fine.”

Mingi blurted out his address in a daze, then proceeded to slump on the floor next to his babies, cradling Cinnamon close to him.

The sound of someone knocking on his door interrupted his spiral of anxious thoughts. He got up, unsteady on his legs from curling up on the floor for so long. He bent down to retrieve Cinnamon, not wanting to leave her side for even a second. The cat, normally fiery and full of life, only meowed sadly, snuggling her face into Mingi.

Mingi opened the door to find himself face to face with Yunho.

Without a second thought, he pulled Yunho into a one-armed hug, careful to not jostle the cat sandwiched in between them. Yunho smelled like caramel and spice. Mingi unconsciously buried his face deeper into Yunho’s neck.

Yunho chuckled softly. Mingi could feel him laugh more than hear it, his face still right in the crook of Yunho’s neck.

A hand traveled up his back to his neck, fingers carding through the soft hairs on the base of Mingi’s neck.

“What happened, baby?”

This time, the word didn’t slip right past Mingi’s ears.

He froze, his brain finally catching up.

He was hugging the guy he definitely had a little crush on. His face was making contact with the exposed neck of the guy he definitely had a more than little crush on. The fingers of the guy he definitely had a not-even-close-to-little crush on were touching him; in his hair, on the back of his neck, in the small of his back. He just got called baby by the guy he definitely had a big-ass crush on.

Mingi was malfunctioning.

Yunho hummed questioningly, and Mingi remembered he had been asked a question, and Yunho was there to help Mingi take care of his cats, not cuddle.

“Um, Cinnamon’s sick, I think.”

Yunho laughed quietly right into Mingi’s ear.

Mingi melted a little more into his embrace. “Baby, I can’t hear you if you’re talking into my neck.”

Mingi removed his face from Yunho’s neck, burning red under Yunho’s amused gaze.

“I think Cinnamon’s sick, I woke up this morning and she was retching.”

Yunho’s hands gripped Mingi’s shoulders tightly, all of the amusement gone from his face. “I’ll help you. Come on.”

Mingi felt a little pit of guilt knot in his stomach. “But- don’t you have work?,” he asked uneasily. “I would feel horrible if I forced you to skip work to take care of my cat.” Cinnamon made an interestingly horrifying sound from his arms.

Yunho smiled fondly. “I called in sick. Now come on, I’ll take care of her.”

Yunho examined both cats, proclaiming them ‘probably fine but could use a little monitoring today’.

Mingi frowned. “What does that mean?”

Yunho bit his lip.

Mingi tried not to stare. (He failed. Badly.)

“If you don’t mind...” Yunho looked up at Mingi through his eyelashes, and Mingi had the fleeting thought that the man in front of him could say ‘let's commit arson’ and Mingi would probably have said yes. To be fair, arson does sound like one hell of a first date.

“If you don’t mind… can I stay here and take care of your cats?”

Mingi beamed at him.

“You’d really do that for us?”

Yunho returned the smile.

“I’d do much more for you…r cats.” Yunho finished the last part of the sentence hastily, like he tacked it on the end last-second. Mingi tried not to hope for the out-of-reach.

After all; hope, while an important, happy notion, is like many other things in life. When consumed in large quantities, it often has consequences.

- 🐈 - 🐈 -

Mingi returned home from work filled with excited nerves.

He opened the door cautiously, and was immediately hit with Feelings.

Yunho was lying on his couch, cats draped over his body like blankets. His face was smoothed out perfectly, the picture of quiet happiness. Soft snores left his mouth occasionally. It was the most domestic, beautiful thing Mingi had ever laid eyes on.

Whenever he was watching rom-coms or reading those fabulously horrible cheesy romance books, Mingi had always seen the watching-your-lover-sleep cliché as creepy and stalker-ish. Until that moment, where his whole perspective changed. Mingi could barely tear his eyes away from Yunho.

Yunho snuffled slightly, his hand falling from Cinnamon’s back to the floor in a graceful arc. Mingi flinched, finally broken from his reverie.

Regaining his thoughts, he went to go shower and maybe cook something before Yunho woke up.

Mingi emerged from the shower like he always did: a towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist, his hair still dripping from the shower.

When you live almost by yourself, you can get away with not wearing clothes for the few minutes between stepping out of the shower and picking out something to wear.

Additionally, when the only other person in the apartment is currently dead asleep on the couch, one doesn’t worry as much about modesty.

He walked out of the bathroom.

Something clattered to the floor and a loud gasp came from someone just in front of Mingi.

His head snapped up, startled by the sudden noise.

Yunho was standing there. He looked utterly shocked; his mouth was wide open, the tips of his ears painted bright red.

A pen rolled across the floor, stopping near Mingi.

Yunho’s mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“Holy-” Without finishing his sentence, he turned right around and dashed out of the hallway in the direction of the living room.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Mingi retreated to his room to put clothes on.

Why did he run away from me? Am I that repulsive? I mean… he was blushing. And I was barely wearing anything… no! Bad Mingi! He does not have feelings for you! …right?

Mingi was overthinking so much that if his brain was a computer, it’d be making the sound of a small army of whirring helicopters.

Mingi walked cautiously into the living room, gauging Yunho’s reaction.

He appeared the slightest bit frazzled by the earlier interaction, but he barely showed it, only blushing the slightest bit when Mingi got close.

“Hey, do you want me to make some food or something? It’s getting a little late and I owe you so much for taking care of my babies today so...”

Yunho straightened up. A tentative smile bloomed across his face. A pang shot through Mingi’s heart.

“Are- are you sure? I mean I would love to stay but I don’t wanna intrude on your free time. I can totally leave if you w-”

“NO!” Mingi slapped a hand over his mouth. Shit, that was LOUD.

“I mean,” he swallowed nervously. “I want you here. I mean- I- I like spending time with you.” He knew his face was probably burning red by then. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Yunho smiled at him. “Really?” Mingi just nodded.

“Alright, then cook me dinner, baby.”

They opted to eat the homemade orzo on the couch, despite Yunho’s protests that they were going to make a giant mess.

“Do you wanna watch something?,” Mingi asked as he grabbed the remote from the coffee table. (He definitely owns a coffee table because he’s cool and an adult with a career, not purely so his cats had a new shiny thingie to play on.) Yunho nodded enthusiastically. “Hey, have you heard of that new kdrama series that just got released on Netflix?” Mingi shoved another fork of food into his mouth.

“Wait, are you talking about this one?,” Mingi asked, the remote icon hovering over a promising-looking drama.

“Yeah, yeah, it's that one!” Yunho fidgeted nervously. “You’re like… you watch this type of stupid shit, right?”

“Dude, are you kidding? Who the fuck doesn’t watch stupid rom-coms?”

“Misogynists.”

“Good point.”

Mingi pressed play. He snuggled deep into the couch, feeling strangely tired.

Mingi’s eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking rapidly to lessen the blinding flash of the lights on his eyes. He looked around, trying to get his bearings.

He was in his living room, he could tell, but when had he fallen asleep? Why was he there?

“Oh, you’re awake! Good morn- well, good night I guess, sleepyhead.” Mingi groaned.

“Wha-ohmigodiamsosorryitotallyfellasleeponyouholyshit-” Yunho ran a hand through Mingi’s bird's nest of hair. Mingi immediately shut up. “Your hair looks ridiculous,” Yunho whispered. Mingi tried not to lean into his touch.

“I know.”

“I should go home.”

Mingi attempted to disguise the obvious sadness in his voice with a fake smile plastered onto his face. “Oh, okay. Uh, do you- you can say no if you want but- would you wanna make this movie/tv night thing like… a regular thing?”

Yunho’s face instantly brightened. “I would love that!”

Damn you, hope.

<<<previous next>>>

ignored the warning signs

Transistor, 2.5k words, Asher is sick and Grant comforts him (as does his cat). warnings: vomiting. [sorry for, like, who i am as a person but i see an empty niche and by g-d i have to fill it.]

Leneghan has been restless since before they left for dinner, slinking back and forth between Asher’s shoulders, the tip of her tail twitching occasionally, but he doesn’t start to feel unwell himself until afterwards, as they’re on their way back home. Despite the chill in the air, he feels too warm with his coat on, and there’s a dull ache in his temples that only seems to get worse when he closes his eyes.

Even Grant, talking idly about something that’s probably fascinating, is beginning to grate on him as they take the skyrail back to to the north side of Highrise, though he feels awful about it. Ordinarily he loves hearing Grant talk, whether it’s about his work in administration, or the city, or any number of other interesting topics, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his focus in one place, and his mind keeps wandering away so he can’t keep track of what exactly Grant is saying.

Leneghan meows softly and presses her head against his cheek, and Asher reaches up to scratch her ears, trying to drag himself back to what Grant’s saying, but it’s so hard to pay attention when there’s sweat beading up under his stiff collar, and the faint hum of the railcar gliding along its track is making his legs feel oddly shaky.

“You’re quiet, dear,” Grant says, putting a hand on his arm. “Is everything alright?”

The touch is enough to pull him back into the moment, and he shakes his head to clear it. “I’m just a little tired,” he says, giving Grant a weak smile.

“I thought Leneghan seemed worried about you,” Grant says, a slight frown creasing his brow. “You should have said something.”

“I felt alright at dinner,” Asher replies, “but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She has been fussing at me a little.”

“Hm,” Grant says, still looking concerned, and squeezes his arm a little tighter before letting go. “We’re almost home, just a bit longer and we’ll get you to bed straight away.”

Asher nods and leans back a bit against the wall of the railcar to steady himself, finding himself a little grateful when Grant is silent, rather than try to continue the earlier conversation.

The skyrail reaches their stop, a block from home, and Asher stumbles a little as he steps out onto the walkway. It was chilly in the car, but outside it’s freezing, and he wraps his arms around himself, suddenly grateful for Leneghan’s warmth across the back of his neck. His head is reeling, though, badly disoriented now that the faint motion of the car is gone, and he sways on his feet as the world seems to spin for a moment.

“Asher?” Grant’s hand on his back helps steady him, and he leans into the touch, grateful for something that feels solid when the walkway under his feet doesn’t.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, offering a shaky smile. “Let’s just get home.” Dizziness aside, his head feels so heavy that all he wants to do is get back to their apartment and lie down.

The brief walk up the block to their building feels like it takes an hour, and with every step Asher feels worse, though he keeps his head down and tries to ignore it. Even after a long day, it shouldn’t take so long to adjust after getting off the railcar, but the feeling of the ground still shaking underfoot doesn’t fade, and there’s a tightness in his throat that doesn’t go away when he swallows. He tries to focus on Leneghan insistently pressing her face against his cheekbone, raising one hand to scratch under her chin while the other closes tightly around the apartment key in his pocket.

As he climbs the steps to their building, his foot catches on the top stair and his balance goes. Leneghan growls and digs her claws into his shoulders as he stumbles and pitches forward, throwing out his arm to brace himself against the door. His stomach lurches, and dread makes his chest go tight as he feels something thick and hot rushing up his throat. Before he can react, his mouth fills with acid and a stream of vomit spills over his tongue, chunks of the cake they’d shared for dessert pouring onto the steps with a sick splatter.

“Asher!” Grant calls, and Asher feels him put both arms around his waist just as his knees give out underneath him. He slumps back against Grant’s chest, shaking and gasping for breath.

“Oh, God,” he groans, pushing his hair back with one shaking hand. “I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry, I’m—“

“Hush, dear, it’s alright,” Grant murmurs softly in his ear, pulling him back gently and helping lower him to the ground so he can sit down on the stairs. His head is still spinning, making his stomach twist uncomfortably, and he leans forward to let his head fall between his knees. The sight of sick splattered on the toes of his shoes makes him want to throw up again. He swallows hard.

He’s dimly aware of Leneghan pawing at his leg, mewling softly at him, and nudges her away gently with one hand. She must have jumped down from his shoulders when he fell, but he’d rather have her climb up again than try to lay in his lap when he thinks at any moment he might vomit again. On the stairs behind him Grant is at the door; he hears the key click in the lock and the soft creak of the hinges, then a shuffling sound before Grant is beside him again, one hand on his shoulder, the other resting on his knee.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs,” he says softly, and lifts Asher’s head with one hand to dab at his mouth with a handkerchief. Asher nods miserably, and swallows hard as the movement makes his stomach roil. With Grant’s arm around his waist to support him, he gets to his feet again and stumbles inside through the propped open door, clicking his fingers softly for Leneghan to follow.

“Sorry,” he whispers, his voice shaking, as Grant helps him to the lift down the hall. “I didn’t know I’d...”

“I know,” Grant assures him, holding him close as they step onto the gondola. The shudder of movement beneath his feet makes Asher feel even sicker, the steak he’d eaten at dinner very heavy in his stomach, and he leans his head against Grant’s shoulder, screwing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to watch each floor fall past them. Leneghan winds between his feet, rubbing her head against his legs; he wants to pick her up again, but he’s sure if he leans down to do it he’s going to throw up his dinner all over the floor of the lift and embarrass himself more than he already has.

When the gondola stops at the landing of their apartment, he feels his stomach lurch into his throat and has to clap a hand over his mouth to choke back another rush of vomit. The taste of acid on his tongue is half-sweet from the cake he’s still hardly digested, and it only makes the urge to gag again stronger. He’s too busy fighting to keep down the contents of his stomach to protest as Grant lifts him from the floor and carries him inside, cradled close against his chest in both arms.

It’s either a miracle or a testament to his willpower that he manages not to be sick on them both, though his feet have barely touched the bathroom floor before he’s pushing Grant away to lean over as he retches, a thick stream of vomit spilling onto the tiles. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out again between heaves, but Grant only hushes him again, one hand on his shoulder to steady him, the other holding his bangs out of the way.

“Come here, dearest, I’ve got you,” Grant murmurs when he’s finished, and helps guide him in front of the toilet, catching him when his knees go weak again and lowering him gently to the floor. He can’t stop shaking, his breath coming in shallow gasps as his heart hammers in his chest, and he can’t be sure if the burning in his cheeks is from fever or simply from shame. Grant gently wipes his mouth and chin with his handkerchief again.

His stomach churns and he leans over the toilet, trying to keep his breathing steady, in the hope that  it might stop him from throwing up any more of his dinner. At his side he hears Leneghan meow quietly, and reaches out blindly to find her face as she rubs up against his fingertips. She pads closer to climb into his lap, and he lets her, now that he’s knelt on the bathroom floor with somewhere better to vomit if - when he does than on himself.

“Let me help you with your coat,” Grant says, and leans against his shoulder to start undoing the buttons. Asher fumbles with one hand to do the same, starting at the bottom, and manages to clumsily undo two before he gags and has to double forward to be sick again. The stream of liquid that splashes into the toilet tastes half like acid and half like alcohol. Had he just drunk too much? He’d only had two glasses of wine, and that with dinner, over the course of an hour and a half; surely he can’t be so intoxicated as to make him this sick.

“Sorry,” he mumbles again as he lifts his head, and hears Grant sigh with gentle exasperation behind him, leaning in to dab at Asher’s lips with his handkerchief again.

“You hardly asked to fall ill,” Grant points out, pulling his coat off his shoulders. “You’re burning up, let me get this off of you.”

Asher nods and lets his arms fall to his sides so Grant can take his coat. Without it he’s suddenly cold, all too aware of the icy tile under him, and he wraps both arms around himself quickly, shivering. He really must be ill, he thinks miserably, and swallows hard as his stomach turns over.

“Do you think you could manage a shower?” Grant asks as he helps slip off Asher’s shoes. “It might do you good, if you can.”

“I suppose I could try,” Asher replies, hunching his shoulders. “Though I don’t know if I’m finished being sick yet.”

“That’s alright,” Grant assures him, idly brushing back his hair with one hand. “There’s no rush, dear, I’ll help you up whenever you’re ready.”

He nods and wraps his arms around himself, groaning as his stomach roils and twists. The bottom of his mouth fills with saliva, and he swallows hard. “I hate this,” he mumbles, hugging his abdomen tighter. “God, Grant, I feel awful.”

“I know, Ash,” Grant replies, rubbing his shoulders with one hand. “My poor sweetheart, I know, I’m here.” Asher whimpers as his stomach clenches, making him gag, and Grant’s fingers tighten on his shoulder as he adds, “It’s alright, now, don’t fight it, just let it happen.”

He leans over the toilet as his mouth floods again, letting his mouth hang open and a trickle of saliva spill over his lip into the water. A moment later his stomach contracts again, and this time when he retches it brings up bits of his dinner in a stream of acid.

At least there’s Grant’s hand, he thinks, steady on his back while he vomits up half-digested chunks of steak, and Leneghan curled up in his lap, purring faintly as she kneads at his leg. He might be miserable, but not too miserable to be grateful for both of them staying here with him. This would be a lot worse without them.

“Sorry about all the mess,” he manages hoarsely when he’s caught his breath. “I didn’t mean...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant tells him firmly, leaning in to loosen his collar. “Just take care of yourself, I’ll take care of the rest.” He cups Asher’s face in one hand to press a kiss to his temple before helping to unbutton the rest of his shirt so it hangs loose from his shoulders.

“Sorry about our date,” Asher murmurs, uncurling one arm to catch Grant’s hand.

“Hush,” Grant says, and laughs softly. “There’ll be other dates.”

By now Asher’s not so nauseous, though his abdomen is sore and aching from the effort of purging the better part of his dinner. “Help me up?” he asks, and Grant slides an arm around his waist to support him as he gets shakily to his feet.

With Grant’s help he finishes undressing and steps into the shower, turning the water on hot and hoping it’ll help the chills wracking his shoulders. It turns out his knees are too weak to stay standing for long, so he sits down under the spray and curls up around himself, closing his eyes as the water runs down his back. He doesn’t feel as sick anymore, but exhaustion is settling deep into his bones, and he sits there for a long few minutes nearly dozing off, listening to the sound of the spray and of Grant quietly moving around the apartment.

He does jerk out of his near-trance when his stomach turns over again, and turns to the side so the shower will wash the stream of sick he throws up into the drain. It’s mostly bile, though, just one last mouthful of foul liquid and a few remaining bits of his half-digested dinner, and when he’s finished it feels, much to his relief, like his stomach is finally empty.

When he steps out of the shower, the bathroom is chilly, but he’s grateful to find the mess on the floor has been cleaned up and Grant’s laid out a pair of warm and comfortable pajamas for him to change into. Grant is waiting for him already when he leaves the bathroom, with a hot mug of tea and a gentle smile, holding out one arm as he approaches to pull him close.

“Sorry about all the mess,” Asher murmurs, leaning his head against Grant’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant assures him, brushing a hand through his damp hair and turning him gently towards the bedroom. “It’s all taken care of, you just take care of yourself.”

“Thanks,” Asher says, and manages a shaky smile.

“Try to drink a little of this, if you can, dear,” Grant tells him, offering the cup. “It’s ginger and honey, ought to soothe your throat and settle your stomach, and you’ll need fluids after that.”

“I’ll try,” he agrees, taking it, and lets Grant guide him gently to their room. Leneghan is curled up on the bed, waiting patiently for him, and she meows softly as he sits down, hurrying to rub her face against his side.

“Here,” Grant says, bringing the wastebin over to set it by the side of the bed. “In case your tea makes you sick again.”

Asher nods, taking a small sip of tea, and then another, before setting the mug down on the bedside table. “I’m tired,” he murmurs. “Come lay down with me?”

“Of course, my love,” Grant replies as he turns off the light, and Asher feels the weight of him settle into bed beside him. “Of course.”

inspired by a prompt from @just-a-nervous-bean which reminded me of the k/endrells for some reason!

2.5k words of trans/stor h/c ft. these two being married and a’s cat as his service animal, no extra warnings (just puking lol)

—

Leneghan has been restless since before they left for dinner, slinking back and forth between Asher’s shoulders, the tip of her tail twitching occasionally, but he doesn’t start to feel unwell himself until afterwards, as they’re on their way back home. Despite the chill in the air, he feels too warm with his coat on, and there’s a dull ache in his temples that only seems to get worse when he closes his eyes.

Even Grant, talking idly about something that’s probably fascinating, is beginning to grate on him as they take the skyrail back to to the north side of Highrise, though he feels awful about it. Ordinarily he loves hearing Grant talk, whether it’s about his work in administration, or the city, or any number of other interesting topics, but tonight he can’t seem to keep his focus in one place, and his mind keeps wandering away so he can’t keep track of what exactly Grant is saying.

Leneghan meows softly and presses her head against his cheek, and Asher reaches up to scratch her ears, trying to drag himself back to what Grant’s saying, but it’s so hard to pay attention when there’s sweat beading up under his stiff collar, and the faint hum of the railcar gliding along its track is making his legs feel oddly shaky.

“You’re quiet, dear,” Grant says, putting a hand on his arm. “Is everything alright?”

The touch is enough to pull him back into the moment, and he shakes his head to clear it. “I’m just a little tired,” he says, giving Grant a weak smile.

“I thought Leneghan seemed worried about you,” Grant says, a slight frown creasing his brow. “You should have said something.”

“I felt alright at dinner,” Asher replies, “but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She has been fussing at me a little.”

“Hm,” Grant says, still looking concerned, and squeezes his arm a little tighter before letting go. “We’re almost home, just a bit longer and we’ll get you to bed straight away.”

Asher nods and leans back a bit against the wall of the railcar to steady himself, finding himself a little grateful when Grant is silent, rather than try to continue the earlier conversation.

The skyrail reaches their stop, a block from home, and Asher stumbles a little as he steps out onto the walkway. It was chilly in the car, but outside it’s freezing, and he wraps his arms around himself, suddenly grateful for Leneghan’s warmth across the back of his neck. His head is reeling, though, badly disoriented now that the faint motion of the car is gone, and he sways on his feet as the world seems to spin for a moment.

“Asher?” Grant’s hand on his back helps steady him, and he leans into the touch, grateful for something that feels solid when the walkway under his feet doesn’t.

“I’m fine,” he says quickly, offering a shaky smile. “Let’s just get home.” Dizziness aside, his head feels so heavy that all he wants to do is get back to their apartment and lie down.

The brief walk up the block to their building feels like it takes an hour, and with every step Asher feels worse, though he keeps his head down and tries to ignore it. Even after a long day, it shouldn’t take so long to adjust after getting off the railcar, but the feeling of the ground still shaking underfoot doesn’t fade, and there’s a tightness in his throat that doesn’t go away when he swallows. He tries to focus on Leneghan insistently pressing her face against his cheekbone, raising one hand to scratch under her chin while the other closes tightly around the apartment key in his pocket.

As he climbs the steps to their building, his foot catches on the top stair and his balance goes. Leneghan growls and digs her claws into his shoulders as he stumbles and pitches forward, throwing out his arm to brace himself against the door. His stomach lurches, and dread makes his chest go tight as he feels something thick and hot rushing up his throat. Before he can react, his mouth fills with acid and a stream of vomit spills over his tongue, chunks of the cake they’d shared for dessert pouring onto the steps with a sick splatter.

“Asher!” Grant calls, and Asher feels him put both arms around his waist just as his knees give out underneath him. He slumps back against Grant’s chest, shaking and gasping for breath.

“Oh, God,” he groans, pushing his hair back with one shaking hand. “I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry, I’m—“

“Hush, dear, it’s alright,” Grant murmurs softly in his ear, pulling him back gently and helping lower him to the ground so he can sit down on the stairs. His head is still spinning, making his stomach twist uncomfortably, and he leans forward to let his head fall between his knees. The sight of sick splattered on the toes of his shoes makes him want to throw up again. He swallows hard.

He’s dimly aware of Leneghan pawing at his leg, mewling softly at him, and nudges her away gently with one hand. She must have jumped down from his shoulders when he fell, but he’d rather have her climb up again than try to lay in his lap when he thinks at any moment he might vomit again. On the stairs behind him Grant is at the door; he hears the key click in the lock and the soft creak of the hinges, then a shuffling sound before Grant is beside him again, one hand on his shoulder, the other resting on his knee.

“Come on, let’s get you upstairs,” he says softly, and lifts Asher’s head with one hand to dab at his mouth with a handkerchief. Asher nods miserably, and swallows hard as the movement makes his stomach roil. With Grant’s arm around his waist to support him, he gets to his feet again and stumbles inside through the propped open door, clicking his fingers softly for Leneghan to follow.

“Sorry,” he whispers, his voice shaking, as Grant helps him to the lift down the hall. “I didn’t know I’d...”

“I know,” Grant assures him, holding him close as they step onto the gondola. The shudder of movement beneath his feet makes Asher feel even sicker, the steak he’d eaten at dinner very heavy in his stomach, and he leans his head against Grant’s shoulder, screwing his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to watch each floor fall past them. Leneghan winds between his feet, rubbing her head against his legs; he wants to pick her up again, but he’s sure if he leans down to do it he’s going to throw up his dinner all over the floor of the lift and embarrass himself more than he already has.

When the gondola stops at the landing of their apartment, he feels his stomach lurch into his throat and has to clap a hand over his mouth to choke back another rush of vomit. The taste of acid on his tongue is half-sweet from the cake he’s still hardly digested, and it only makes the urge to gag again stronger. He’s too busy fighting to keep down the contents of his stomach to protest as Grant lifts him from the floor and carries him inside, cradled close against his chest in both arms.

It’s either a miracle or a testament to his willpower that he manages not to be sick on them both, though his feet have barely touched the bathroom floor before he’s pushing Grant away to lean over as he retches, a thick stream of vomit spilling onto the tiles. “I’m sorry,” he chokes out again between heaves, but Grant only hushes him again, one hand on his shoulder to steady him, the other holding his bangs out of the way.

“Come here, dearest, I’ve got you,” Grant murmurs when he’s finished, and helps guide him in front of the toilet, catching him when his knees go weak again and lowering him gently to the floor. He can’t stop shaking, his breath coming in shallow gasps as his heart hammers in his chest, and he can’t be sure if the burning in his cheeks is from fever or simply from shame. Grant gently wipes his mouth and chin with his handkerchief again.

His stomach churns and he leans over the toilet, trying to keep his breathing steady, in the hope that  it might stop him from throwing up any more of his dinner. At his side he hears Leneghan meow quietly, and reaches out blindly to find her face as she rubs up against his fingertips. She pads closer to climb into his lap, and he lets her, now that he’s knelt on the bathroom floor with somewhere better to vomit if - when he does than on himself.

“Let me help you with your coat,” Grant says, and leans against his shoulder to start undoing the buttons. Asher fumbles with one hand to do the same, starting at the bottom, and manages to clumsily undo two before he gags and has to double forward to be sick again. The stream of liquid that splashes into the toilet tastes half like acid and half like alcohol. Had he just drunk too much? He’d only had two glasses of wine, and that with dinner, over the course of an hour and a half; surely he can’t be so intoxicated as to make him this sick.

“Sorry,” he mumbles again as he lifts his head, and hears Grant sigh with gentle exasperation behind him, leaning in to dab at Asher’s lips with his handkerchief again.

“You hardly asked to fall ill,” Grant points out, pulling his coat off his shoulders. “You’re burning up, let me get this off of you.”

Asher nods and lets his arms fall to his sides so Grant can take his coat. Without it he’s suddenly cold, all too aware of the icy tile under him, and he wraps both arms around himself quickly, shivering. He really must be ill, he thinks miserably, and swallows hard as his stomach turns over.

“Do you think you could manage a shower?” Grant asks as he helps slip off Asher’s shoes. “It might do you good, if you can.”

“I suppose I could try,” Asher replies, hunching his shoulders. “Though I don’t know if I’m finished being sick yet.”

“That’s alright,” Grant assures him, idly brushing back his hair with one hand. “There’s no rush, dear, I’ll help you up whenever you’re ready.”

He nods and wraps his arms around himself, groaning as his stomach roils and twists. The bottom of his mouth fills with saliva, and he swallows hard. “I hate this,” he mumbles, hugging his abdomen tighter. “God, Grant, I feel awful.”

“I know, Ash,” Grant replies, rubbing his shoulders with one hand. “My poor sweetheart, I know, I’m here.” Asher whimpers as his stomach clenches, making him gag, and Grant’s fingers tighten on his shoulder as he adds, “It’s alright, now, don’t fight it, just let it happen.”

He leans over the toilet as his mouth floods again, letting his mouth hang open and a trickle of saliva spill over his lip into the water. A moment later his stomach contracts again, and this time when he retches it brings up bits of his dinner in a stream of acid.

At least there’s Grant’s hand, he thinks, steady on his back while he vomits up half-digested chunks of steak, and Leneghan curled up in his lap, purring faintly as she kneads at his leg. He might be miserable, but not too miserable to be grateful for both of them staying here with him. This would be a lot worse without them.

“Sorry about all the mess,” he manages hoarsely when he’s caught his breath. “I didn’t mean...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant tells him firmly, leaning in to loosen his collar. “Just take care of yourself, I’ll take care of the rest.” He cups Asher’s face in one hand to press a kiss to his temple before helping to unbutton the rest of his shirt so it hangs loose from his shoulders.

“Sorry about our date,” Asher murmurs, uncurling one arm to catch Grant’s hand.

“Hush,” Grant says, and laughs softly. “There’ll be other dates.”

By now Asher’s not so nauseous, though his abdomen is sore and aching from the effort of purging the better part of his dinner. “Help me up?” he asks, and Grant slides an arm around his waist to support him as he gets shakily to his feet.

With Grant’s help he finishes undressing and steps into the shower, turning the water on hot and hoping it’ll help the chills wracking his shoulders. It turns out his knees are too weak to stay standing for long, so he sits down under the spray and curls up around himself, closing his eyes as the water runs down his back. He doesn’t feel as sick anymore, but exhaustion is settling deep into his bones, and he sits there for a long few minutes nearly dozing off, listening to the sound of the spray and of Grant quietly moving around the apartment.

He does jerk out of his near-trance when his stomach turns over again, and turns to the side so the shower will wash the stream of sick he throws up into the drain. It’s mostly bile, though, just one last mouthful of foul liquid and a few remaining bits of his half-digested dinner, and when he’s finished it feels, much to his relief, like his stomach is finally empty.

When he steps out of the shower, the bathroom is chilly, but he’s grateful to find the mess on the floor has been cleaned up and Grant’s laid out a pair of warm and comfortable pajamas for him to change into. Grant is waiting for him already when he leaves the bathroom, with a hot mug of tea and a gentle smile, holding out one arm as he approaches to pull him close.

“Sorry about all the mess,” Asher murmurs again, leaning his head against Grant’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grant assures him, brushing a hand through his damp hair and turning him gently towards the bedroom. “It’s all taken care of, you just take care of yourself.”

“Thanks,” Asher says, and manages a shaky smile.

“Try to drink a little of this, if you can, dear,” Grant tells him, offering the cup. “It’s ginger and honey, ought to soothe your throat and settle your stomach, and you’ll need fluids after that.”

“I’ll try,” he agrees, taking it, and lets Grant guide him gently to their room. Leneghan is curled up on the bed, waiting patiently for him, and she meows softly as he sits down, hurrying to rub her face against his side.

“Here,” Grant says, bringing the wastebin over to set it by the side of the bed. “In case your tea makes you sick again.”

Asher nods, taking a small sip of tea, and then another, before setting the mug down on the bedside table. “I’m tired,” he murmurs. “Come lay down with me?”

“Of course, my love,” Grant replies as he turns off the light, and Asher feels the weight of him settle into bed beside him. “Of course.”

what are we doing

Chapter 1 The fire and smoke

The sky was dark, but the stars were so bright it looked almost blues, the smoke is coming up from behind the tree seeing a car on its side a small fire was starting to emerging from the back of the car black smoke with it, the front window been smashed blood on the side of it, in the front passage seats a girl just looking Dazz hearing the tires of a car speeding off,

her head was spinning around trying to focus, looking around she notices the blood on the corner of the half-broken widow, she brings her legs up to her chess smashed what remained of the front window before undoing her seatbelt falling down hard on the side widow groning,

she slides out the widowed headfirst crawling over the shattered pieces of glass

"ahhhh" she screams making her way across before laying on her back she notices a pain in her leg,

lifting herself up on her elbows she notices how much blood was coming out seeing a bit of bone skiting out, crying out she lays back down her hands covering her face breathing heavily

when she hears a faint voice before hearing it fully

"AURORA" she turns her head to the sound,

"AURORA...please be ok" she hears him wiper

"SAMAEL" she yells back rounding on her stomick to crawl over toward him through the smashed glass around them,

making it over to him hovering over his face he retches his left hand up to move her long hair out of the way,

it looked like it was on fire with the bright flames in the background,

his breathing was shallow as he talked to her

"are...you...ok" breathing heavily she looked down his body and saw big pieces of glass sticking out of his stomick looking back to his face little bits of glass sticking out

"I'm more worry about you" she tears up seeing how much pain he was in, seeing him bleeding out she looked around for help, but nothing

"oh no what do I do...what do I do" her tears falling on his face mixing with the blood, looking up at her sad face made him tear up too,

"I love you" he smiled up at her, she chuckled smiling back at him

"I love you too" she bent down and kiss him not knowing what else to do she felt helplessly there was nothing she could do,

she started to feel heavily she was going to pass out at any minute,

suddenly they feel this heat on them,

it felt hot more than the fire around them,

then a light,

a big ball of light they both turn toward it seeing a man surrounded by fire moving toward them,

the fire moved alongside him unit he kneeling down beside us looking directly at her,

His face was beaten up,

one of his eyes was bloodshot the other Bruis badly,

half of his bottom lip was missen the blood still looked fresh

"Please...please help us" she begs, crying loudly,

the stranger moves his hand up towards the wound on her head moving her hair out of the way looking down at Sam

"I will my child...but you have to do something for me" Samuel looked up at him

"What do you need us to do" the stranger pulled out a piece of paper

"I have some things that...need taking care of, so I'll help you and you help me and we call it even" Samuel looks up at Aurora

"I'll do it, just leave her out of this" the stranger shakes his head

"I'm afraid it an all for one and one for all situations" Samuel shakes his head

"no," Sam said voice cracking, Aurora grabs his hand

the stranger looks at them and smiles "it not like you have anything else to loss"

Sam squeezes her hand she looked down at him wipering

"what do we have to lose" she smiles at him he chuckled and looked at the stranger "ok, we do it just...please save us" the stranger pulls out two stones neckless then put them around their necks moving his hand down Sam body grabbing the pieces of glass in him pulling it out quickly

"AHHHH HO ho" breathing heavily,

the stranger chuckle removing Sam's belt moving over toward Aurora

"This is going to be quick but it going to be very painful, bite this" he fouls the belt putting it in her mouth "ready" Sam grabs her hand nodding

"AHHHHHH" she lay back down breathing heavily

"you might want to go home...help get those pieces of glass out of each other" he got up moving away

"and before the cops arrive" he stops in his track moving his head towards them "oh and meet me at a cafe near here...be there early" as he turns his head he disappeared into darkness nowhere in sight,

Aurora moved up Notices there was no pain anymore she looked down still seeing the blood coming out of Sam and her wound unit it just stop, she helps him up off the ground his arm around her waist they started moving away from the rec heading over to Aurora house closer then his.

As they made it to the door Aurora pulls the keys out of her jacket pocket heading inside as quietly as they could to not disturb her mum,

making their way to the bathroom she sit Sam down on the bathtub going out to grab some towels, tweeter, and paper towels, placing them down she takes off her jacket getting really to pluck out the glass that was in his face she places them on the paper towel

"ouch," Sam said pulling away from her

"sorry" she looked sadly at him, he grabbed her hand kissing her knuckles lending it agents his lips looking up at her

"just a couple more then I'm done" she smiled down at him, he let go of her hand letting her continue.

once she was done she got a handwash to get the blood off his face he grabs her hands moving them away from his face standing up grabbing her head gently pulling it down looking on top

"how's your head" she gasps tweeting her eye

"sore" he looks in her eyes and had a feeling she didn't want to be alone and he didn't want to either

"let's get cleaned up ok" he smiles at her she nodded her head in response so he turns his head around moving toward the shower door opening it turning on the hot water waiting for it to heat up, he turns Aurora around to unzipping her dress moving the straps off her shoulder kneeling down to takes her boots off making sure she was stable before taking off his clothes, he moves them into the water letting the water hit, watching the blood fall down the drain,

he grabs her hair gently washing the blood out she turns around and does the same for him gently running her hands through the back of his hair pulling him in so that her head can touch his, he wraps his arms around her and stays there for a bit, as he runs his hand down her back he can feel the scratches on her, not fully healed but it not getting any worse it stop bleeding but you could still feel it.

They didn't move for a while just looked at each other observing their scratches touching their faces, Sam lend over to turn the water off moving out of the shower picking up a towel wrapping it around Aurora grabbing one for himself,

they moved towards Aurora room, she went to her cupboard pulling out underwear and a big top to put over herself Sam had some of his clothing around here but he couldn't be bothered to find any, so he settles for boxes he moved to lay on the bed really for Aurora to cuddle with him, she lay her head on his chess her hand around his waist .

They couldn't speak to each other what were they going to say

hey, we almost die and now were indebted to a stranger until he decides we pay our debt,

what were they going to do.

Sam was the first one to wake up looking over at Aurora she looked like she'd be crying there wore dark circle around her eyes hair messed tangle around her neck he lifts his hand to move the hair out of the way, she opens her eyes looking at him she smiles at him, moving her hand over his cheek,

"We should probably get up" Aurora nodded her head getting out of bed turning herself to Sam

"Should we eat now or wait" he was looking for his pant

"no, we eat at the cafe" shoving his pants on with his top

"I have to go get the car so I will be back in a bit ok" he walks toward her and kisses her,

she smiles and laughs feeling a little tickled as he went out the window she grabs his jacket handing it to him through the window leaning out the window slightly

"see you soon," she said happily he smiled at her lend in and kiss her

"see you soon" he walk away looking back at me to wave she wave back she walks away from the window to grab her towel leaving her room but when she got to the bathroom she notices that she had left the mess from last night here,

she quickly shut the door grabbing the paper towel wrapping it before throwing it in the bin,

she grabs the nears towels and began wiping up the blood on the floor and some that were on the wall scrubbing the shower clean,

she quickly walks out of the bathroom moving to the laundry room putting a load on with the bloody clothes and towels taking a breath thankful her mum was asleep and that her sister had the night shift at work,

she walks back to the bathroom to have her shower washing her hair actually shampoo and condition it still finding traces of blood falling down the drain,

as she steps out she went to the cupboard draws pulling out the hairdryer the loud sound turned into a white nose she was getting flash back to the night before the crash.

the music blasting in her ears, the light keep changes to pink, purple and blue all she wants is a drink her head was killing her, she makes it over to a table griping it tight feeling like she could fall over when she heard a disembody voice

"hey"  

she snaps out of it clinging to the bathroom bench breathing heavily looking in the mirror seeing grey mark she turn around not really to look.

walking to her room she drops her towel moving to her cupboard put her underwear on and bar moves to grabs a nice summer dress zipping it up turning it around to the front tieing the scrapes around her neck moving to get her boots putting them on moving over to pick up her towel to hang it behind the door moving to her desk to grab a blue headband that matches her dress she grabs her rock around her neck squeezing it tight in her hand making it hurt a little,

walking out to the front door letting their cat in,

he rubs up agents her legs moving for his food bowl meow loudly almost tripping over him as she walks over to the cupboard to get his biscuit for him

"here you go Salem" poring his food "eat slow..I worry about you" but he didn't listen he just makes this really disturbing grunting noise moving away she hears a knock at the door,

heads over toward the door opening it to see Sam he "you ready" she nodded her head

"Just let me get my bag" she ran to her room to grab her phone and little bag running back to Sam "ready"

they step out of the door frame closing it he grabs her hand moving them toward the car opening the cars doors hoping in,

on their way to the cafe, she looks over at him brushing her hand to his face

"how your face" he grabs her hand laying it on his lap

"it's a bit sore but it'll heal what about your head" looking at her for a moment before turning back to the road

"just going to have a headache for a few days" she smiles at him.

They made it there in less than 10 mins they didn't move for a bit they both wouldn't admit two each other that they were scared how could they not be with what everything that happens that fateful night,

they looked at each other before getting out they meet halfway before heading in,

they hold hands entering the cafe looking around for the stranger and there he was sitting in one of the corner booths he's wearing a suit a black one,

Sam took the lead moving around until they made it in front of him the stranger looked up at them Aurora sat down first then Sam

As they sit a waitress comes over to take their order she smiles

"hi I'm betty what can I get for you today" she pulls out a pen and notebook from her front pocket Sam looks at her and smile

"Hi can we get a black coffee, hot chocolate, and a plate of pancakes please"

she nods walking off to the kitchen, Sam looks back at the stranger a little scared trying not to let it show

"so what do you want us to do" the stranger smirks at him reaching beside him and pull a piece of paper out unfolding it placing it down on the table sliding it out to them

"There are seven names on this list, I want you to find them, kidnap them, and put them through a trial" their eyes widen to want the stranger is requesting them to do, he then pulls something else out and places it in front of us

"start with him first, we know where this one is going to be" points to a picture

"you want us to kidnap someone, that not going to happen" he goes to more with the stranger grabbed his arm

"you owe me...know we made a deal, save your lives you do want I ask, know you agree and I haven't gone back on my word but if you do you die" Sam moved his arm away from his grip sitting down

"but want your asking...how can we do that"

the stranger struggles "I don't know but I think you can figure it out I have fate in you" he laughs

Sam couldn't figure out another way out of this,

if this stranger gave them a chance of life he could take it away just as easily he looked at Aurora he couldn't be without her he turns back to the stranger

"fine we'll do it" he looks at the paper reading the name off the front

"Alien Cupidity why are we kidnaping him it says he stop a turf war that was gonna kill hundreds if it continued at the rate it was going, people are calling him a hero"

the stranger laugh "if you hit someone with a car on purpose and then call an ambulance are you a hero, no he started the turf war killing innocent people and not so innocent people" he points to the address in the paper and smiles

"he'll be receiving a medal of honor in the next three days...we have until then" Aurora looked at it confusedly

"Why would he kill so many, just to get a metal" Sam looked at the picture

"Because it gets his name out there, he already somehow manipulate the two most powerful gangs in town, he wants power" the stranger seems surprises by Sam answer

"exactly" Sam just looked at him smugly

"witch means he's going to be surrounded by the present, cops not to forget bodyguards" Sam slide the newspaper back at him

"we'll be shot before we even get close to him" the stranger rolls his eyes getting up

"figure it out" he put his hand in his pocket pulling out his wallet taking two twenty dollars out placing it on the table leaving almost bumping into Betty as she came out holding the drinks placing them on the table moving back over to the counter.

Sam grabs the paper looking for any clues about his where abouts when Betty comes over with the food placing it down Aurora start eating cutting up pieces for Sam putting it in his mouth why'll he looks,

then she had a thought she put down the fork pulling out her phone

"How do you spell his name" she looks at Sam why'll still chewing

"Alien A-l-i-e-n Cupidity C-u-p-i-d-i-t-y" not really paying attention

"here you go" she gives her phone to him grabbing it he looks through the websites as Aurora continued to eat her pancake giving Sam some

"here" he moves the phone to her, "it says he woke at a restaurant maybe someone will tell us something about him, something we could use agents him"

by Angelkat

ILYL Ch. 15 extract - Different Perspective.

So an anon suggested a re-write of a small scene from Ch. 15 of ILYL, this time from Squirrelpaw’s perspective. Usually I don’t respond to requests. But it is only a small moment, and it is an unbelievably fluffy moment. Truth be told, I’ve not had the best week, so I do think it would help to write a little fluff and angst.

So thanks anon.

...

Squirrelpaw let out a low moan of disgust. It was going to take moons to get this stuff out of her fur. With every move she made, she felt the wet sludge sink into her pelt, sickly wiping against her skin. Yuck. She shivered at the coldness.

Why did I even consider this? Admittedly she had been proud of the idea, she really did believe the mud would cover their scents from the Tribe guards. She could smell it enough now to realise how much it stunk! She hissed, cursing how thick her fur was. Usually she would be smirking from how much it kept her warm in the cold mountain air. But covered and matted with slimy, smelly mud? Ugh. She didn’t look forward to cleaning this off.

She sighed. She had to remember what this was for. Stormfur needed them. They had to make it there, for him. They would not leave him behind.

Squirrelpaw felt the sharp points of rock underneath her paws. The path was certainly becoming more rough and steep. We must be close. She opened her mouth, scenting the air around them, but only retched when the rotten smell of the muck came over her again. Maybe I didn’t think this through. She thought crossly. With how bright her pelt was, she’d had to envelop herself with the stuff to get hidden. 

Oh well, if the others smelt anything they’d probably-

Squirrelpaw suddenly felt herself being dragged off her feet as a tight hold on her scruff pulled her to the side. She could barely let out a surprised squeak as her paws left the path with a hasty pull towards a large rock, embedded in shadows. Squirrelpaw felt two paws gently push against her chest, as well as a body slightly squeeze against hers as her companion hid themselves in the shadows with her.

Squirrelpaw’s eyes narrowed as she glared up. What is this mouse-brain doing? Had they ever heard of personal space? They were lucky her jaws weren’t already digging into their throat! She had the perfect opportunity to do so! Whoever this was had better give her an explanation quickly?

In the slight gleam of the moon, she saw who it was.

The anger paused, instantly replaced by an overwhelming burning in her cheeks.

Crowpaw was against her. His paws were on her chest. His chest was practically pressed against her nose. His gleaming blue eyes were fixed to the side, cautiously watching as his ears were up, twitching. Clearly focused on something.

Squirrelpaw was focused on not losing her mind.

She was stiff in his arms. Unable to escape his delicate, seemingly protective, prison. Sure all she had to do was just push him off and she’d be free to swipe at him.

But then everything hit her again.

His paws, fixed on her shoulders, firm but soft as they held her in place. He wanted to keep her secure, not trapped, and he certainly wasn’t hurting her. By all accounts, she knew she was safe there. Safe in those soft paws that held her close. Close to him.

Beneath the smooth shape of his body, she could feel his heart beat with warning vigilance. It lightly hit her chest again and again, a reminder that he was a close as he was. Squirrelpaw held her breath at the thought that Crowpaw could definitely feel her own heartbeat; she prayed to Starclan he mistook it for surprise rather than hysteria.

And then there was his scent. Squirrelpaw’s throat tightened in horror. He was covered in mud as well, he was buried in the same stinking mess that she was. She knew that he smelled as bad as she must have. SO WHY! Why was it that underneath the rotten, wet earth, the smell of rain soaked hills, of new-leaf lavender, of him, why were those smells she loved so much stronger?

Abruptly, Squirrelpaw began to feel happy for the mud covering her. She was sure her face was burning so much that her fur was falling off her cheeks.

She couldn’t move even if she wanted to.

She could hear the guards after all.

She remained still, flushing and silently gasping, until she heard the guards voices fade into the distance, and she felt Crowpaw slacken on her. Her eyes darting up, she saw him let out a breath of relief, before looking down at her. His eyes immediately widened in surprise. Squirrelpaw’s brow raised.

“Oh.” He sighed, a small laugh on the edge of his tone. He stepped away from her, his paws up in nervous relief, giving her the space to move again. Squirrelpaw’s pupils shrank at the hint of surprise she caught.

Did-Did he not know that was me? Squirrelpaw thought, her neck fur prickling. She knew that she’d been giving him some space for... reasons she didn’t like to think about, but surely he must have been able to tell it was her! Did he think he was saving someone else? Did he think he was saving-

Squirrelpaw’s teeth slowly came down together, grinding quietly.

Crowpaw sighed again in alleviation. His eyes found hers, dimming into a teasing smirk. “That’s twice I’ve saved you these days!” He smiled.

Was he... making fun of her?

Hiding the growl in her throat, Squirrelpaw shoved him out of her way, ignoring his astonished grunt as she began to pace back to the group. “Don’t expect any favours from me!” She spat, “I would have heard them!”

“Well you didn’t need to!” Crowpaw snapped back, his tone reminiscent of how she remembered from the beginning. “Thanks to me!”

There was the arrogant runt she’d hated! Squirrelpaw ignored him, her tail lashing back as she walked, hot and embarrassed, away from him. Her eyes narrowed in frustration. How could any cat be as stupid as he was? Did he really not realise? Could he not see for a second how he made her feel?

How had she fallen for such a mouse-brained tom?

“But,” Squirrelpaw’s eyes widened as Crowpaw’s tone calmed. “They would have found us if it wasn’t for your mud plan.” He mewed softly, the hint of a purr on his voice. “That was really brilliant, you know.”

Squirrelpaw breathed in, daring a small glance at him. He was smiling at her. Smiling so beautifully.

Oh right. That was why she had fallen for him.

Whenever those compliments came out of his mouth, or whenever that mouth curled with glowing luminesce, Squirrelpaw felt happier than she ever thought she could believe. 

She could see that smile a thousand times and never lose the warmth in her chest.

She wanted to see it every day she woke up.

But that was a dream. Because he wasn’t hers, and she wasn’t his.

Because someone else deserved that smile over her.

That was why, alongside the warmth, that smile now stung her with an impossible pain.

That was why it was so hard to turn away from him. “Thank you,” Squirrelpaw meowed, not at all shocked by how ragged she sounded. “But now isn’t the time for compliments.” Her eyes screwed shut. Truth be told, his compliments were fine, they were just directed at the wrong cat. “Come on, we can’t let Stormfur wait on us.”

That was right. Focus on the mission, focus on the prophecy, focus on your cl-

She breathed in like she was holding a log on her back. Her eardrums vibrated with a constant, fatigued pounding. Her jaw slackened as the tightness began to hurt.

Her paws ached as her steps quickened and heaved. She needed to get away from those soft paws, from that sleek body, from that gentle heartbeat, from those calming smells, from that wonderful smile,

She never looked back at him. She didn't want to see his reaction; it would hurt her whatever it was. She let out another long breath, shattered, furious and so so sick of all of this. I am doomed.

...

Lasabrjotr Chapter 61: The Thousand Year Buildup to a Single Moment

Chapters: 61/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Mature Warnings: Death mentions, Snap flashback Relationships: Loki x Reader (There We Go) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor(Marvel), Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Stephan Strange Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending (Canon-Divergent), Communication Is Still Not Their Family’s Forte, Look Historically Vikings Really Got Around, The Descendant Of A Viking Could Come From Anywhere

Summary:  You spill the beans about your dreams, and Loki learns about your ancestors.

You munched apprehensively on a granola bar while the entire roster of Avengers watched quietly. They'd wanted to talk to you about something, though Loki protested. Apparently, a decision had been made over breakfast, which you'd missed, and even Thor didn't seem too happy about it.

It was definitely time to worry, when a god-king seemed put out by his friends.

“All right.” You said once you'd swallowed the last of your granola. “What kind of trouble am I in?”

“No trouble.” Steve said. “Just some questions we need to ask.”

“Does the name Thanos mean anything to you?” Tony asked.

You blinked at the directness, but said nothing.

“It's okay. You can tell us.” Steve encouraged.

“Well...cats out of the bag, huh?” You sighed. “Yeah, I remember. Everything that happened in that whole year. But to be specific, I don't actually know anything about Thanos except for what Thor, Loki, and Mynos have told me. All I know about was the result, what it was like living in that world, and then it suddenly being reversed, and no explanation for any of it. I really thought I was super crazy, you know? People disappearing, the whole world thrown into chaos for a whole year, and then it never happened? No one remembered? No I definitely thought there was something really wrong with me.”

“And there are more like you?” Banner asked. “More people who remember?”

“Yeah, but I can't tell you who they are.”

“Why not?” Steve asked.

“It was all online. I don't know any of their names. We never met each other, we're scattered out, all over the world We only really found each other by accident.”

“Are you willing to talk about it?”

“Well...”

Tara had stopped talking, stopped laughing, an odd expression on her face. It was almost midnight, the two of you had come home from a movie. It was all so sudden, the quiet, the confused whisper, the soft rustling of dust as she disintegrated in front of you, pouring through your hands.

Slamming door and running footsteps on the grass. Hyperventilating in the car, the engine roar loud. Screeching, honking, cars run off the road on either side.

Trees fell across the road, snapping, splintering cracks, blocking your path just long enough for them to decay into dust. People rushing out of their houses, out onto suddenly barren lawns, screaming muffled by the car windows, the growling engine.

It was dark, the land had changed. You almost got lost int the swirling clouds of dust, and empty cars, but you found your father's home.

Momo meowing frantically, scraping at the door. The television on, sitcom reruns, and a pile of dust in the kitchen.

Retching echoing in the tiny bathroom, flushing water swirling, swirling like clouds of dust in the wind.

People in the streets, coughing and choking on their neighbors and loved ones.

The corn was gone.

You spent the next week alternating between hysterics and numbness. You spent the week after that burying those who couldn't go on. You never actually stopped doing that, throughout the following year.

You numbers shrank and shrank, as social services failed; power and water, garbage pick up and deliveries, medicine and perishable items, all dwindling away. Your little town had been forgotten. Or maybe there really was no one else left. After the loss of electricity, there was no more news from outside.

Most people came together, but there were always those who didn't understand how to work together, or who had broken during it all, or were broken beforehand. People who couldn't put their prejudices behind them, or tried to seize control over others.

There were violent acts. Assaults. Murders.

You were a murderer.

You hadn't ceased to be a murderer, because you had never ceased to be. You had never started over like everyone else had. The weight of all of it rested on your shoulders like a great and festering tumor.

You had come now to realize that this burden would never be lifted.

The people who cared for you would do what they could. They would build braces for your legs. They would spread soothing balm. But nothing, not the Avengers support, nor your father's acceptance, nor Loki's affection could ever remove this from you. It was part of you. All anyone could offer was a little relief.

You shrugged. “I don't suppose my story is any different from anyone else. Shit sucked.”

“Fair.” Tony agreed. “So, who's Mynos?”

“Yes,” Thor asked. “Who is Mynos?”

“Uh...” Whoops. “Um. He's an alien. That I've seen in my dreams. He's one of whatever Thanos was. Big purple guy.”

Tony and Peter shared a quick glance. Thor was staring at Loki, who managed somehow to look both defiant and contrite simultaneously.

“Um...Titans are extinct.” Tony said slowly. “I was...there. I saw their world; what had happened to it. There's none left now.”

“You said this is a dream you've had?” Strange asked. “You've dreamed of Titan? Can you tell us what it looked like?”

“Yeah. It's...orange, mostly. Dry. Dusty. But I can breathe there, so there's air. There's clouds in the sky, and dust storms. The people there are trying to set back the clock on a major ecological disaster. I guess they poisoned the land and water with pollution, and now they're trying to figure out how to get plants to grow again. Mynos is the only Titan I've ever seen, I never even saw a picture of Thanos. But in my dreams, I can talk to him, and he told me some things.”

“Dreams, plural?” Strange asked. Thor was looking at Loki with open worry on his face.

“Yeah, it's sorta...” You glanced at Loki, who was squirming. “You didn't tell anybody?”

“Yeah Jafar, you didn't tell anybody?” Tony accused. “What didn't he tell?”

You stared at Loki, trying to discern what he wanted you to do. You didn't want to lie to your heroes. But Loki might have a good reason for keeping this to himself. You didn't want to throw him under the bus, but you'd already started talking about it.

He caught your eyes, saw the confusion there, and sighed heavily, dropping his gaze.

“_____ and I have been sharing dreams since the day we met.” He admitted. “For the most part, they are normal dreams, as odd and unfathomable as any other. But in others...”

“We kind of go traveling.” You finished. “We fly through space, and visit places. We've been to Titan twice. It has the potential to be beautiful, and they're trying hard. I wish we could help. But Mynos seems to be the only one who remembers what happened. He's the only one who even remembers Thanos. According to him, even people who worked for Thanos don't even remember him.”

“But these are just dreams.” Sam said. “Why take them seriously?”

“They might be kinda real.” You said. “Like I said, I had never seen a Titan before this; Loki didn't even describe them or show me a picture. And Loki hadn't been to Titan.”

“The description is accurate enough.” Tony said. “I was there. Me and the kid. It was orange, dry and dusty.”

“And there was definitely a civilization there once.” Peter added quietly. “There were ruins everywhere.”

“But no Titans. They were all gone by that time.” Strange cut in.

“Mynos told us that he remembered Thanos killing them all. Not directly, exactly, but he blew a bunch of them up, and made it so that the rest couldn't get what they needed to live. So I guess they went extinct.”

“We believe these dreams to be at least quasi-real due to the fact that, every time it happens, we bring something back with us. Planetary dust and a leaf, to be precise. These samples both reside with our scientists right now.”

Thor looked momentarily outraged, but got a handle on it almost instantly.

“Why was I not notified about this, Loki?” He growled.

“Because it is firmly within the realm of magic, which is my realm, not yours.” Loki said with sharp imperiousness. “What would you have done about it, besides fret?”

“Still think you should have mentioned it.” Thor mumbled.

“Do you mind if we look at these samples?” Dr. Banner asked.

“You can look, but you cannot take them. As you might surmise, these are very rare materials.”

“Which you got from a dream. Because magic.”

“Well, my magic is teleportation, so that's the only thing I can think that makes sense. We were kinda sorta there, and I teleported them out with us.” You added.

“Do you think it would be possible for you to take someone else with you?” Strange asked. “Into your dream escapades?”

Loki frowned and very conspicuously took your hand, cradling it in both of his. “I don't think that's necessary. We do just fine on our own.”

Strange sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, lovely couple, blah blah blah. But for the sake of what we discussed earlier, do you think you could at least record these dreams from now on? Not every single dream you have; there's plenty that no doubt goes on in your brain that I want no part in. Just these possibly real dreams?”

Loki scoffed, but you shrugged. “Nothing wrong with just writing them down, is there?”

“No, but magic, especially as ephemeral as dream magic, cannot be solved by a think tank! It requires insight, meditation, the mind of a seer-”

“Or the ability to see multiple timelines?” Strange suggested.

“Braggart.” Loki scoffed again.

“Or, like, if we're still debating whether Titans exist again, we could just ask Heimdall, right?” You asked. “Right?”

“Well...” Loki said.

“Yes, we certainly could.” Thor answered. “We can get to the bottom of this. Just write them down as they happen. No doubt you phones have a journal app that you can use. Right?” He asked Bruce, who nodded.

“Yeah, that's a thing phones can do.”

That settled, the group moved on to other subjects, the settlement of Trolerkaerhalla, Tony's missing shipment of Chitauri artifacts, the possibility that they were now on the black market, and the fact that one had shown up just outside of Asgard...

But also about funding Asgardian building projects, integrating Starktech into their computer systems, and donating those very computers so that Asgardians could get training in Earth technology. Of finding the materials for Asgard to continue rebuilding its own technology, of trying to integrate the two.

Of an Asgardian space program.

Thor wanted to mine asteroids for resources, so that they didn't put extra pressure on Earth. Tony was all the way behind this idea, but Steve had reservations. Who owned what in the solar system? Was everything going to be a free for all? Would mining other celestial bodies help ease pressure on the planet, or would it be a race between Asgardians and humans as to who could get the most stuff? Would there be space battles? Would Asgards obvious head start in space travel garner them the lion's share of the systems extraterrestrial materials, and would that foment even more human resentment against them?

Although you loved the cosmos, space jurisdiction was way over your head. You dropped out of the conversation to talk to Peter, a precious boy with boundless energy, who you still thought should be in school instead of super-heroing, but it seemed like he was trying to do both. You briefly wondered if Avenging counted as an extra-curricular.

Between the two of you, you came up with an idea to help with the funding of Asgard. You would record videos and podcasts about Asgardian life and custom. Peter helped you set up a patreon, and you ruminated over ideas. You couldn't wait to get Saldis in on this.

Natasha was the first to leave. She just said she had something else to do in Iceland, and saw herself out. The majority of the others left with Tony, on his private jet. Strange went last; all he had to do to get home was open up a portal of orange sparks and walk through. Loki took him aside and spoke quietly with him for a few moments, getting a long answer from the wizard, and obviously pleased with what he was hearing.

He kept that buzz of excitement all through dinner, while Thor seemed to be caught up in the satisfied silence after a pleasant time with friends. He didn't really seem to notice when Loki took your desserts- cubes of goat cheese and grapes drizzled in honey-and whisked you away to his favorite spot to be with you: The black sheepskin rug in front of his fireplace.

There you ate your desserts with the fancy, tiny ram horn forks provided, and he clutched you close so you could feel the solidity of his body, see the firelight sparking in his eyes.

“I found out something interesting today.” He said.

“Did it have something to do with what you were talking to Strange about?”

“Yes, it did. Do you know what I learned?”

You nodded.

“I learned that, a thousand years ago, an object once called the Tesseract  was abandoned on earth by my father. There was a great deal of devastation around it, caused by people who tried to wield its power, but the humans of the area finally came to the understanding that they could not safely use it, and built a place of secret worship around it. An order of priests rose around it, claiming their sacred duty was to safeguard the artifact until Odin returned to reclaim it.

Now, I'm sure it's been mentioned that it was actually the Space stone within the Tesseract, and these humans being in constant proximity to it...Well, it changed them, over the generations. Each of these priests was allowed to have one child; and that child was to become a priest or priestess to replace those lost to old age.

Well, one of those children decided to do something else. He ran away, and never stopped running, fearing that he was being chased, and would be dragged back to that life he didn't want. He traveled far and wide, eventually married another traveler, and his descendants also traveled. They went everywhere; deep into Africa, to the farthest reaches of Asia, into India, and all through the Mediterranean. They married in those areas, and their descendants also took to exploring the world. And their descendants, and theirs, reaching Australia, and South, Central, and North America, each generation eventually leaving the place and people they were born into, and settling down somewhere far away. Each generation having the influence of the Tesseract in their background, and never knowing it.

And so, your grandmother left her family in the Yukon, and moved far to the south, gave birth to a son who travels endlessly for a living, and gave rise to you; the first in generations to access the power of your far-flung ancestor.

My darling.” He kissed the top of your head. “My darling, we were always meant to meet.”

He took your marked hand in his, pressing the runes together briefly, only long enough to trigger the buzz. “We were always meant to be connected.”

“So, my ancestors were from Scandinavia?” You asked, caught up in his story.

“They were from everywhere, potentially.” He answered. “Stephen followed all of them on their journeys, but he did not tell me exactly which branch led to you. He did find out where your grandmother came from, and that you have many, many distant relations, all over the planet. All ultimately descended from this one man.”

“Wow. I...it goes so far back. And all because your dad left a shiny thing behind, and of course humans loved it.”

“You are the result of devout worship, and of a galactic force older than existence itself. So unique, my little space sorceress. My precious Seidkona.”

“Loki...” You leaned into him, drawn to is earnest gaze. Was this what he meant when he had said that the Norns supposedly wove peoples lives like threads? Had all these relatives down the line spread out across the tapestry, bringing your thread close to his, until they twined together?

As your lips met, you hoped that those threads would not separate, but stay wrapped around each other indefinitely, creating a beautiful new color together.

Depressed (EraserMic)

Aizawa X Hizashi

So I’ve heard of people getting depressive episodes when things change around them. Aizawa and Hizashi got a cat - here’s the episode following that. I might post that said chapter that's supposed to come before this but I dunno.. Oop

He didn't sleep that night.

Hizashi held him as he sobbed, carefully running his long fingers against the groove of the shaking man's spine, tracing out sleepy patterns in a hope to tempt the Hero to rest. Aizawa was inconsolable however, and as the minutes ticked by of gentle cries of pain and loneliness, Yamada became more and more concerned.

"Honey." He whispered, pressing the tip of his cold nose into the raven hair. "You need to sleep."

The Erasure hero sniffled, and the tears fell onto Mic's exposed arm, following the curves of how he was positioned and splattering onto the blankets wrapped around them both. The blond's heart clenched with pain for his boyfriend. "I-I ca-can't." Came a pathetic gasp, somewhere between hyperventilating and stable. Yamada had no clue anymore. "It h-hurt's t-t-too much." He whined.

Wanting to take the pain away from his lover, but unable to, Hizashi resorted to pulling the smaller right into his lap, and tucking his head and long slightly-curly locks into the crook of his neck. It meant the tears would dampen the collar of his T-Shirt, but the blond held no regret, allowing the hero to snuggling shakily into his arms. "I know how these attacks get." He spoke softly, playing with the bits of hair the were tickling his neck, brushing through it ever so slowly. Aizawa was never the person for quick movements when he was upset. "And you know I know."

Small whines of terror were pulsating from in front of him, the skinny little body violently trembling. "I think I'm g-going t-t-to be sick." He cried out, and that's when Mic noticed his boyfriend was clutching at his stomach. This was a bad one then.

"Alright, okay." He kept his voice level as he raised them both up, helping him shakily to the bathroom. He knew now was the time for maximum comfort, and the way Aizawa clutched at him made him lose a little bit of that focus. They made it quite quickly to the bathroom, and he positioned the hero over the toilet. "Here we go."

Hands gripped the bowl, knuckles turning white. The harsh sobs were coming back as Shota began gagging. "I don't wanna be sick." He cried, back arching violently. "P-please."

"I know, I know." He could do nothing but hold loose strands of hair back as the panic-driven man retched painfully. "You just have to let it out." He felt tears well up of his own eyes and gather on his long eyelashes. "Shh, it's alright."

Their cat was mewing at the door of the bathroom, little squeaks that sounded concerned and worried if you listened closely. Hizashi braved a look back and away from his boyfriend to see the cat sitting with his tail puffed and curled around his paws. "Hey Fuku." He cooed, making little noises to intrigue the cat forward. "Come here, buddy. Come on."

It looked like the furball didn't need much to entice him forward, hobbling along with his three legs and leaning into Yamada's side when he reached them. Plucking the animal up he sat him in Shota's lap, and the adult let out a sob. "Remember why this is happening." He said quietly, just louder than the desperate cries. "There's nothing scary or sad happening - you saved the life of this cat - look how thankful he is."

Aizawa kept his hands on the toilet bowl as he looked away and down at his lap, watching as the cat softly curled up, warming his legs. He was still shivering, but it looked like he wasn't going to throw up anymore - or if he had anything to throw up anymore. The Erasure-hero leaned backwards into Mic's grip tiredly, still sniffling and hiccuping, but nothing too major after that whole breakthrough.

Fuku meowed, purring loudly as the owner reached a shaking hand down to pet him on the head. The cat in return rolled onto his back much like a dog, nuzzling his head into the pets. "I love you both." Came the hoarse whisper from the raven-haired adult. "I don't even know why you put up with me."

"Because we love you." Hizashi poked his nose at his lovers ear playfully, tugging at his clothing to back-hug him tighter. "And you know that."

"Yeah." He smiled for the first time that night. "I do."

gamquick; “(but first) let me take a selfie”

fandom; marvel 616, all-new x-factor (2014)

pairing; remy lebeau/pietro maximoff 

word count; 1.9k

rating; g

notes; this is my first time writing 616 and my first time posting a fic to tumblr in god knows how long,, please be nice.  anyway, this is Dumb and Self-Indulgent, and i love gamquick So Much, and i think about canon insta baddie pietro every single goddamn day of my life

ao3 mirror

———

“Are you taking a selfie?” Remy asks, somewhat incredulously.

Pietro hums an affirmation, short and sharp in such a manner that manages to somehow convey the complex sentiment of, ‘Well, obviously, you imbecile.’

Granted, Pietro does look the kind of way that warrants a selfie. His outfit and general aesthetic choices tend to pendulate between the extremes of ‘godly’ and ‘unspeakable’, but his current outfit is definitely the former. It’s a linen suit in a summery shade of periwinkle - and Remy hates that he not only knows those terms but also managed to string them together, but he manages to soothe the knock to whatever ridiculous attachment to traditional ‘manliness’ he’s still coddling with the observation that his boyfriend looks fucking incredible. The suit is fitted perfectly, tapered to his narrow waist, and Remy waits for the next sound of a camera shutter to lean over and grab Pietro’s ass through the delightfully tight, light fabric of the slim-fit trousers.

He likes to imagine that the camera managed to capture Pietro’s face perfectly, but it’s more than likely that the photo turned into a blurred mess because Pietro is turning to swat at Remy before he’s even really had a chance to appreciate the ass grab, which is very unfortunate, because Pietro’s ass is the best.

“Go and pester someone else,” Pietro snips, landing a fairly solid playful backhand to the apple of Remy’s cheek - only playful in that it doesn’t actually shatter Remy’s whole face - as he pretends to still be invested in his sleek smartphone. “Lorna’s in the other room. Why don’t you go and tell her that her green dress is an adventurous choice? Very capricious of her.”

Despite his stinging cheek, Remy laughs easily and falls into Pietro, arms winding around his waist from behind as he glances down at his phone screen, catching sight of the camera app still open and just a glimpse of the previews of previous selfies.

“Don’ upset the lady,” he admonishes, leaning close to his lover’s ear and looking up to meet his eyes through their reflection in the full-length mirror before them. “‘S’not nice to tease your sister, cheri.”

Unsurprisingly, Pietro rolls his eyes.

“If she didn’t want my teasing, she should’ve at least gone with a better shade. The seafoam dress was nicer, but she insisted it reminded her of one of Father’s outfits. God forbid. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man outside of red and purple.”

Remy can’t say he’s all too familiar with Erik Lehnsherr’s wardrobe.

“‘S’this the latest in you guys’ elaborate familial judgement, then?” he asks, “Fashion?”

He raises an eyebrow, going for an unimpressed look, but his face breaks into a smile when Pietro does The Thing - meets Remy’s eyes in the reflection and lets his own become open and warm for just a moment.

“Believe me,” he says airily, “I’ve been judging my father’s fashion choices for as long as I’ve known him.”

Remy tilts his head in consideration, still smiling.

“Must be those bad genetics that influenced that cargo shorts look a couple weeks ago, then.”

His smile widens when Pietro’s expression becomes once again deeply serious, eyes narrowing.

“How many times must I reiterate that not all tan shorts are cargo shorts? The definition of ‘cargo shorts’ comes from the pockets—“

“—Okay, okay, so no extra pockets,” Remy concedes, releasing Pietro’s waist for only a moment to splay his hands in surrender, “But they were ugly. Luna thought so, too.”

Pietro makes a face that Remy struggles not to classify as a pout.

“Luna hasn’t been educated in proper fashion-practicality balance yet.”

“Ah, right, right. An’ that one suit you like t’wear when we go out to fancy joints - the one with no pockets so I have to hold your phone and wallet all night - that’s fashion-practicality balance?”

There’s a twinkle in Pietro’s eyes as he meets Remy’s gaze again, despite the flatness of his tone.

“You’re fashion-practicality balance.”

The gasp Remy lets out is wounded, apparently convincing enough - despite his huge, stupid grin - that Lucifer comes trotting over to investigate.

“I’m a glorified seasonal accessory,” he weeps. Despite the fact that they’ve spent several seasons together. Many, in fact. And Remy apparently hasn’t gone out of fashion.

Unfortunately, Pietro is too busy giving Lucifer and an approaching Figaro stern looks to respond, shifting his feet as they get closer to nuzzle around his shins. “I swear, if either of you get your claws anywhere near this suit—“

“—They won’t. An’ if they do, ‘s’only ‘cause they love you.”

“I don’t care. They’re menaces. Where’s Oliver?”

“Still asleep on your side of the bed, if I had to guess. ‘S’his favourite place. ‘Cause he loves you. Same as me. You’re their stepdad. Step-cat-dad.”

“How many times must I tell you to stop calling them your children?”

“They’re my babies.”

The sigh Pietro lets out is long-suffering and entirely affectionate. It makes Remy want to smile so hard his face really does shatter, especially as Pietro’s face once again softens as Figaro looks up at him and meows sweetly.

“I love you, y’know?” Remy says, letting his jaw rest against Pietro’s shoulder to speak right against the rapid pulse in his neck. It’s for the intimacy, yes, but it’s also mostly just so he can feel the shudder that runs through his love.

“You may have mentioned it in passing,” Pietro says, the same unimpressed tone, but it stings just a little in the way that it always does, because he doesn’t know. Remy could say it a thousand times over, in English and French and every language that Pietro has expressed similar sentiments in and then taken the time to patiently teach Remy to echo the pronunciation. He never manages to make the words sound quite as pretty as Pietro does, but Pietro always smiles at him when he gets the words right, smiles like they really mean everything, even though he can never quite believe them.

“God. I love you so much. Mon trésor. Mon colibri. Mon bibou.”

That last one, as he knew it would, earns him something that’s almost a laugh, a dusting of pink appearing across the apples of Pietro’s cheeks.

“Stop getting sappy,” he says. “If you adore me, then maybe you’ll brush your hair and finally get a shirt on. We do have places to be.”

“Only place I have any interes’ in bein’ is by your side.”

Pietro retches, but Remy manages to see how he smiles even as he laughs against Pietro’s neck, arms looping tighter around his waist to hold him close.

“If you were anyone else, that woulda worked,” he says, as put-out as he can pretend to be. “You got your standards all backwards, mon ami.”

“Clearly. I should’ve gone for a man who knows how to dress himself in a timely manner.”

“Now, I know we got real different definition of what ‘timely’ means.”

“Right now, I’d say it means that the task should be completed at some point before we’re expected to arrive.”

Remy shrugs easily. “Never heard’a bein’ fashionably late, cheri? An’ who are you to talk? You’ve been admirin’ yourself in the mirror for the whole time I was in the bathroom.”

“Failing to give yourself a decent shave.”

“I like havin’ stubble!”

Pietro levels him with another unimpressed look, but it once again softens as he reaches backwards to trace his thumb across Remy’s jaw. Remy smiles and leans forward just enough to kiss his fingertips, just a gentle peck against each one while he appreciates that Pietro’s staying still for once, until Pietro’s holding his jaw again and turning half around in his arms, enough to finally press their lips together. It’s slow and soft, washed warm by the midday sunlight from the bedroom windows, and Remy treasures it for as long as he dares before he peeks his eyes open a little to look at their reflection, make sure he clicks the volume off and gets the angle right.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, when they finally pull back just an inch. “That one looks the best.”

Pietro looks up at him, brows creased in confusion, until Remy holds up the phone he’d easily taken straight from his lover’s hands minutes ago. Pietro scowls, snatching it back in a blur, but whatever ire he holds is immediately forgotten in the face of the photograph on the screen - the two of them, pressed close and kissing, Pietro’s hand against Remy’s neck and one of Remy’s holding Pietro’s waist while the other holds up the phone. It’s not got the best composition - Remy isn’t exactly well-practiced when it comes to taking selfies whilst fully distracted by kissing his boyfriend, but the warm glow of sunlight across them, Pietro’s pretty outfit and artfully messy hair contrasted with Remy’s sleep-rumpled form dressed in nothing but a pair of ugly pyjamas trousers, gives the whole photo a vibe that he treasures. It’s them, solid proof that this is something real, and, judging by that soft look in Pietro’s blue eyes again, he agrees.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, then mumbles something in a language Remy doesn’t recognise at a speed he could never hope to even comprehend - Pietro’s regular speed. By now, though, Remy’s gotten used to that being Pietro’s equivalent of an ‘I love you’ or something similar, and it makes him grin like an idiot, leaning forwards to press a kiss to that sensitive spot beneath Pietro’s ear.

“Only with you, cheri,” he says, directing a wink at Pietro in the mirror and enjoying the eye roll he gets in response. “Hey, don’ be rude. Just got you our future holiday card photo, didn’t I? Your sisters are gonna love it.”

“I suppose Lorna’s already seen you in most states of undress, but I’d rather not share the sight with Wanda.”

Remy chuckles, hooking his chin over Pietro’s shoulder. “‘S’pose you were takin’ the photos for her anyway, huh?”

“For Wanda?” Pietro asks, then shakes his head casually. “No. They were for my Instagram.”

…“Your what?”

Lorna comes in to chew them out for being late before Remy can get an explanation. He gets dressed about as fast as he ever has whilst Pietro makes entirely unhelpful comments and enjoys his misery, but then his boyfriend brushes his hair and picks a cologne out for him, all intimate and domestic even if it’s made slightly less picturesque by Lorna’s growing frustration.

They all spend the day beneath the warm sun, drinking expensive alcohol and drifting from gazebo to gazebo across a perfectly-kept lawn as they schmooze and chat and act all casually heroic, and Remy almost entirely forgets about the whole Instagram thing.

At least until they’re home and he and Pietro are curled up in bed together, and Pietro drops his phone on Remy’s chest.

Remy picks it up to see Instagram open on a post on what must be Pietro’s account - a collection of photos taken over the course of the day, candid photos of the team and a couple of Pietro’s selfies and, finally, last in the set, the picture of the two of them. There’s no caption, but there are—

“How many likes?!”

Cherry Syrup

"Kan," Rose sighed, grabbing her wife's wrist and pulling her hand away from her mouth, stopping her frantic chewing on her fingers. "She just has a cold, she's not dying."

Kanaya stared blankly at her wife, forming a worried scrunch of her face as she turned her gaze at their nine month old baby. She seemed peacefully sleeping in her crib, yes, but not that many hours ago she was crying as all hell broke loose; her nose congested as she scratched harshly at her throat, perhaps thinking the unbearable raspy feeling was on the outside of her skin.

The jadeblood practically had dropped anything she was busy handling, rushing to her daughter's rescue at the sound of her cry. Kanaya wouldn't stop cradling her close to her chest, like as if she was fragile to the touch, one slip up and she could break. It was also an important reason why their house was cozy and burning; Kanaya had suggested to crank up their heater, to fight off any other cold infections. 

Rose furrowed her brows, bringing her wife in close, an attempt to distract her. 

"Kanaya, darling, Lilith isn't the only member in this household that requires your affection..." Rose purred, running the pads of her fingers along Kanaya's forearm, languidly. Kanaya looked down at Rose, a surprised green blush sweeping her cheeks. 

Rose leaned in, stepping onto her tippy toes to kiss her wife amorously, but came into contact with her ear instead. 

The blonde reeled back, spitting and protruding out her tongue in disgust. She huffed at the way Kanaya craned her neck, gazing over their baby with such transfixed eyes. Now, Rose would never pin herself as jealous over something so small and so expected of babies to steal attention; however, her own daughter or not, Rose genuinely missed having Kanaya's full consideration and being the only entity in her world. 

In defense, she supposed she was bit of a mother hen as well when Lilith was born, shadowing Kanaya's needs. Rose was about to blow a fuse if this was intentional revenge. 

A soft cry emitted into the air as Kanaya gently picked the ill hybrid up, rocking her in her arms. Rose frowned at the display. 

"As endearing as it is, to see you care for our child, that doesn't take away my demands to get you in bed." Rose muttered, causing Kanaya to scowl at her wife's statement. 

"Rose, Lilith needs us, she's fallen sick." Kanaya reminded, positioning her baby's head up on her shoulder. Rose sighed dejectedly, looking into Lilith's pale green eyes, beginning to feel exhausted. 

As the night went on, Kanaya never dared to put down Lilith, going as far as settling the hybrid in between her and Rose, comfortable on their bed. 

Lilith tucked her head underneath Kanaya's chin, the jadeblood in turn curling around her and slipping an arm under Rose's neck. 

Rose gazed at the ceiling, her eyes drooping but the idea of sleeping at the moment apparently didn't appeal to Rose's system, not just yet, weirdly. A sudden weight added at her feet made Rose perk up quickly, finding a portly cream cat mewling quietly, his fur sticking up in all different directions,  like as if he'd been shocked by lightning. He began padding to Rose, earning a scratch on his fuzzy head when he was in arm's reach. 

The cat glanced beside himself, bristling when he saw Lilith had taken his favourite spot on their bed. 

"I'm sorry, my dear Cthulhu, but it appears your less furry sister has claimed her spot on our bed." Rose chuckled, petting him all the way to the tip of his white tail as he jumped off the bed, meowing in irritation. 

The night didn't sail smoothly following Cthulhu's visit, however. Rose only got an hour of sleep, before Lilith wailed and wriggled between them, requiring her mothers care. 

Rose groaned, shifting up onto her elbow, and carefully observing as Lilith tried rolling around. 

"Come here, Lily." Rose murmured, sliding her arms around her daughter and leisurely bringing her close, cradling her with tender movements, in hopes that it'd calm Lilith down. 

But it didn't work a scant! Lilith started balling with every power of her voice, clutching onto Rose's black shirt and tugging at it. It was a surprise Kanaya managed to still slumber; though, Rose was always a light sleeper, one little creak and her eyelids would fly up. This only made Rose stressful, growing increasingly worried at her daughter's sobbing that didn't seem to want to slow down, like she was in horrible pain and there was nothing Rose could do to fix it.

Suddenly, Lilith's cries halted, making Rose's palms sweat as she anticipated the reason why tears hung at the corners of her eyes. The hybrid emitted a gurgling sound, causing Rose to stare quizzically, and without a clear warning, vomit flew out of Lilith's mouth, landing squarely on the the purple colored letters of her signature lovingly sewed on her shirt.

Rose cringed, holding Lilith at a distance as she sucked in a sharp breath, gagging internally at the sight of baby bile sticking to her favourite shirt. 

She didn't how she was going to remove her shirt without the vomit touching her skin; it made her shudder as goosebumps crawled on her skin. 

Rose turned her purple gaze up at Lilith, a bit of blots of the rotten waste stayed on her chin, tears noticeably beginning to pile up. 

"Lily, it's okay, you're okay," Rose hurried, trying to comfort her after retching for the first time and grabbing the end of her shirt and wiping away the streaks. Her shirt was already ruined and drenched in throw up, anyways. "You're going to be okay, Lilith. It's uncomfortable and disgusting, yes, but it's normal."

Lilith squirmed in her hands, flailing her arms around, locks of her black hair gluing to her forehead from sweat. Her loud chirps and sobs eventually stirred Kanaya, the jadeblood moaning as she lazily sat up, rubbing her eyes before they worked properly. 

"Lilith, what..." Kanaya paled, spotting the bile splattered on Rose's chest. "Dear god, what happened?"

"Lilith threw up." Rose reported, grimacing when her eyes drifted off to the mess. Kanaya gasped, quickly prying Lilith away from her mother and holding her tight, cooing lightly. 

"Oh, my poor darling," Kanaya crooned, letting her cowlick caress Lilith's cheek as she swiped her slender hand down the hybrid's silky hair. 

Lilith let out a chorus of 'mamamama', making Rose develop a jealous nerve, due to Lilith wanting to be in Kanaya's hold. It was quickly shafted, though, as a burping akin noise retched from Lilith, both Rose and Kanaya's stomach dropped. 

"Lilith, shhh, no more crying," Kanaya soothed, massaging her troll pointed ears. "If you stop crying profusely, you'll stop being nauseated."

"I think we have some medicine stored, we can give her that." Rose said, pulling at her shirt, carefully slipping it off in the most awkward pattern, revealing her violet tank top. 

"I suppose that'll help remedy for now," Kanaya sighed, handing Lilith over to Rose, picking up her wife's dirtied shirt with her thumb and pointer finger pinching it. "I'll put this wash, meanwhile you can give her the medicine."

Rose nodded, the couple both rising from bed but going separate ways. Lilith laid her tiny head on Rose's shoulder, the blonde sighing through her nose and tickling her fringe. 

"Oh, Lilith." Rose whispered, planting a kiss against the hybrid's fiery forehead. 

Entering the dining area and scavenging for the cherry flavored liquid, she retrieved it from the pantry, tenderly settling Lilith on the counter before grabbing a small spoon, one that's usually for when they stir their tea. Tonight was an exception, though, Lilith certainly wouldn't handle gulping the medicine from a spoon too large for her mouth; which just meant she'd have to take three sips of it from a tiny spoon instead.

Pouring the cherry red medicine onto the spoon, she carefully observed as she swished it along to Lilith, positioning it at the hybrid's mouth. 

"Open your mouth, little love," Rose said, frowning when Lilith shook her head. 

"It'll make you feel better, Lilith." 

The hybrid made a series of unsure noises, whimpering shortly before the spoon forcefully went into her mouth. The strong aftertaste hit Lilith immediately, gagging and darting her tongue out. 

Rose giggled, serving another tablespoon and hovering it near her mouth. "Just two more, Lilith."

Lilith crossed her arms, puffing her light gray chubby cheeks and turning her head away. 

"Oh, no you don't little missy." Rose caught her chin, opening up her mouth to showcase her gummy maw, white little things sprouting at the back of her mouth. She made Lilith slurp the cherry medicine by force once more, making the hybrid growl; it was anything but intimidating, small sounding and cute, like hearing a puppy's growl as it plays tug-of-war with your slipper. 

"One more spoon and it's done, you'll soon feel better by tomorrow morning, hopefully." Rose said ideally, pouring the red liquid onto the spoon. As she moved the spoon towards Lilith, by her surprise, the hybrid hurriedly drank it down, holding onto the silver handle and hastily pulling away. 

Lilith emitted a 'bleh', showing Rose just how appalled she was from the taste of the medicine. Rose simply giggled, putting away the cherry medicine and throwing the spoon into the sink, later to be washed. 

"Yeah, bleh," Rose parroted, smooching her forehead. "You should be feeling lucky, Lilith, my mother would make me swallow pills that were a little too big for my throat." 

The sound of steps echoed throughout the house, alerting Rose and Lilith of Kanaya's presence. 

As before, Lilith squealed a series of jumbled 'mama's. Kanaya smiled at her daughter's ecstatic attitude, swooping her up into her arms, and leaving a kiss mark on her temple. 

"I see you're feeling better again, starlight?" Kanaya murmured, earning Lilith to nuzzle up against her. 

Feeling arms suddenly wrapping around her waist, Kanaya glanced down over her shoulder, Rose smirking with such charming senses. There was never a time where Rose failed to sweep her off her feet with just one look that harbored adoration.

Kanaya snickered, purring quite loudly and rhythmically when Rose laid her head on her shoulder, her breath tickling her neck. Kanaya sighed contently, kissing her wife chastely on her cheek, a smile plying on Rose's lips as she dug her nose into the crook of her beloved jadeblood's neck.

An uncomfortable feeling wakes you during the night so you sit yourself up in bed and take a few sips of water to try and ease the sensation gurgling away in your stomach, but it’s no use as your gut clenches and you find yourself running to the bathroom through the pitch black hallway. You make it to the sink just in time to retch into the bowl as your hands squeeze the sides of it while you shut your eyes tightly. When the first wave of nausea ends you take the opportunity to perch yourself on the closed toilet seat and get your breath back.

You reach up to pull the cord for the blind to see that dawn is only just breaking and half the sky is light blue whereas the other half is a deep navy. The blurred patterns on the window mix the colours together and you lean an elbow on the edge of the sink so you can rest your chin and stare up at the glass. Your stomach clenches again which causes you to immediately drop your hand from your face and prepare yourself for the oncoming wave that convulses its way up your body harshly. This time bile comes up and your eyes start to water while loud gagging noises emanate from your throat.

“Fucking hell,” you groan to yourself when you finally stop.

A small shadow at the doorway catches your eye when you settle back onto the seat and you see Mercury scuttle off down the hall with a mew. It was light enough in the room now to see your reflection in the mirror above the sink and the sight that greets you is not a pretty one.

“Hmm,” Gwil moans with a frown as Mercury meows at him from your side of the bed, “what the-?”

Gwilym blinks himself awake slowly to see the small kitten staring at him while he lets out quiet mews and his frown intensifies when he sees you’re not where you should be. He takes a quick look at the clock to realise it’s not time for anyone to be awake yet, then slips out of bed and down the hallway to find your slumped figure leaning over the bathroom sink.

“(Y/N)? What’s wrong my love?” he asks as he kneels beside you and places his hands on your thigh.

“Just a bit sick,” you whisper without lifting your forehead from your arm, “and tired.”

“How long have you been up? Why didn’t you wake me?” he sighs.

“An hour or so I think. I didn’t really realise the gravity of the situation when I woke up so there was no need to wake you.”

“Oh, love,” he says quietly, “look at me darling.”

You lift your head and you swear there’s a hint of a grimace before his lips turn down sadly at the sight of you looking so ill. His thumbs stroke small circles on your skin and you sigh as you drop your head back down onto your arm.

“Do you want some water?” he asks, “are you feeling up to coming back to bed?”

Yes please, and not quite.”

He gives your leg a gentle pat then stands up with a tired groan and collects your bottle of water from the bedside table, then spots Mercury curled up on your side of the bed fast asleep.

“Well, the little one’s off like a light,” he chuckles as he returns and hands you the water.

“Mercury?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “he’s your little protector I think. Did a good job of waking me up to find you.”

“Bless him,” you say as you give a half hearted smile back at him.

“How are you feeling now?” Gwil frowns with concern as he places the back of his hand to your forehead, “you don’t feel like you have a temperature.”

“Hmm, not great, but better than I was. Go back to bed and I’ll be in in a minute, yeah?”

“I’ll stay with you.”

“No, go back and I promise I’ll be in soon, okay?”

“Only if you’re sure,” he says as he strokes your cheek softly. You nod and he kisses the top of your head before padding slowly back to the bedroom.

Once you hear him squeak along the floorboards around the bed, you fumble around in the cabinet on the wall and find the blue and white box you needed. You slide a pregnancy test into your palm then open up the toilet seat with a nervous feeling now replacing the nausea.

“Only one way to find out,” you whisper to yourself as you take a seat.

“Everything alright?” Gwil calls out a few minutes later as you’re tapping your foot anxiously while you wait for the result to appear.

“Yep, just coming,” you reply as the answer becomes clear.

You pick the test up, place the end cap back on it and walk into the bedroom with it hidden behind your back. Gwilym’s sitting up in bed with his glasses on reading a book and you nearly melt at the sight before you.

“You okay?” he asks as he places the book down on his lap, just in front of little Mercury.

“Gwil… I, er...” you get into the bed beside him then hand over the small stick that would ultimately change your lives forever. He looks down at what he’s now holding and his eyes widen like never before as he takes in what he’s seeing.

“A baby?” he questions with a smile.

“A baby,” you confirm.

“Is that what your sickness was all about?”

“Apparently so,” you nod, “been feeling off for weeks if I’m honest.”

“How do you feel about this then?” he asks as he lowers the test and faces you with a sincere expression.

“I feel… Terrified. But in the best way possible,” you smile as you turn into his body and kiss his shoulder, “how do you feel?”

“Elated!” he exclaims with a grin, “you’ve made me the happiest man on earth right now. You’re going to be the best mum any child could ask for, you were born for this.”

“Well I can’t take all the credit,” you chuckle, “you’ve had quite a big part to play in making me the happiest woman right now. Even though I do look like death warmed up and feel like shit.”

“You won’t have to worry about a thing my darling, I’m going to do everything for you from now on,” he reassures as his strong arms wrap around your body and hold you protectively. Mercury wakes on Gwil’s lap then immediately makes his way to you and as if he knows what’s going on snuggles into your stomach quietly.

“He knows,” Gwilym smiles, placing his hand gently on your abdomen.

Gwilym x reader. The reader is being sick one morning and the kitten meows in Gwilym to wake him up. Could it please be Mercury please. That fic was so cute and sweet xx

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Who Betrayed Who?  Revised 11/28/19

Foxglove hung from a drainage pipe, his feet dangling in the darkness of the alley between the Laughing Pig tavern and Lacoul the wine merchant's shop, and allowed himself the faintest of grunts. This was already going not as smoothly as he liked. "Shhh!" hissed Raven from the roof. "You know you just shushed me more loudly than I grunted, right?" he murmured. Raven's luminous eyes popped up over the lip of the third story roof. "If you're so smart, why am I on the roof and you're hanging in the air like an idiot?" Foxglove rolled his eyes dramatically, and smoothly curled his lower body upward.  "A tiny miscalculation." He wrapped his legs around the pipe, and in a maneuver that even some less experienced medical students might find unbelievable, shifted himself in one inhuman looking move to the roof. As he came up over the side, he suddenly found his wrists held by a powerful grip.  "Shit!"  he hissed.  Before he could try to break free, he felt soft lips pressing firmly against his. "Careless," whispered Raven, and she kissed him harder.   "You're insane." whispered Foxglove into her cloud of black, softly fragrant hair.   "Mmmhmm," she replied, then whirled silently and darted across the roof like a shadow. Foxglove sighed and followed, out of habit checking his daggers one by one to make sure they were all ready.  Left sleeve, right sleeve, belt, right boot.  All present and accounted for. He grinned in the moonless night.  A tiny setback.  Nothing to worry about.  

----

Cat Mother scratched gently at the cheeks of one of the many felines she kept in what she fancifully referred to as her lair, the top floor of the Lower Harbor District Thieves' Guild.  Cats roamed freely throughout the squat, ramshackle building, but especially enjoyed congregating near their mistress. The upper section of the Guild was replete with tapestries, many of them ragged from application of various needle sharp claws.   When they deteriorated too far, they were replaced, so the look of the lair was constantly mutating.  It smelled of rich incense with a faint undercurrent of cat piss. "Boy," she said imperiously, "You're late." Foxglove kept his face impassive, but his hackles rose at the "boy." He had been a runt, slow to develop while his fellow street urchin cutpurses matured into burglars, thugs and killers, but now he was as skilled a thief as any in the guild, maybe more than most, he thought. "Sorry, Mother," he smiled sweetly.  "Town watch came by early.  I had to wait them out."  He tossed a packet wrapped securely in waxed cloth on her desk.  The tabby she was petting meowed peevishly and jumped to the floor. Cat Mother took a tiny knife, razor sharp, and sliced open the top of the packet carefully, dipping an elegant fingernail into it and bringing it up to a nostril. "Yes.  As good as I was told.  Pure.   Well done."  She opened a drawer and the packet vanished into it.  She drew out a small bag of coin and tossed it to him. He caught it deftly, and it seemed to disappear into thin air. "You've been practicing, I see."  Foxglove nodded.  "Most people wouldn't have seen it go up your left sleeve." "Your gaze is inescapable as always, Mother." "Never forget it."  She gave him a hard look, but then smiled.  Her slender, handsome face had a kindly cast at first glance, shrewd but grandmotherly.  Only if you paid close attention would you see the merciless coldness of her eyes.  "I found you in the garbage, boy, I can always toss you back if you wrong me.  But you wouldn't do that, now would you?"  She gave a warm smile that chilled him to the bone, but he kept his expression blank. What the fuck did she know? ------ Tokk was a big man, over six feet tall and seemingly made of gristle and irregular steel bands. His swarthy features, snoutish nose and upsettingly large teeth bespoke a mix of something human and something rather more sinister.  He casually flipped an evil looking dagger end over end, not looking at it, as he grinned down at the cutpurse he had backed against the alley wall.   "Mother says you ain't bringin' in enough monnnney," he drawled.  "What's wrong, little friend?  Are ya sick?" The teenaged pickpocket tried to burrow into the wall with his shoulder blades.   "I asked you a quessssstion, boy." "No.  No, not sick." he stammered. "Mmm. Good.  Gooood."  Tokk smiled warmly.  That was the apparent intention, anyway.  The actual result of the expression was something that made the boy want to cover his eyes and scream.  "I'd hate to think you were ill."  Something seemed to come to him, and he looked thoughtful.  "You wouldn't...no, of course not.  You wouldn't be...skimming Mother's take?" "Oh gods.  No.  Never.  I'd never." "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that.  I've always had the highest opinion of you, umm..." A voice called down the alley, half weary, half amused, "Tokk!" Tokk kept his gaze on the squirming boy. "What was your name again?" A dark skinned slender shark of an elf appeared in the gash of moonlight cutting through the space between buildings.  "Stop playing with your food, Tokk, we have somewhere to be." Tokk sighed dramatically, and backed away from the boy, glancing over his shoulder.  "Never time for any fun." With a near-imperceptible flick of the wrist, the dagger flew abruptly into the cutpurse's eye. The boy had just enough time to gasp. "He was lying, of course," he said to the elf.  "Never steal from Mother." "Of course." The dark elf spared the body a glance as it slid down the wall and Tokk retrieved his blade.  "Speaking of which..." "Yessss, Xandor?" Tokk wiped the dagger on the cutpurse's clothes. "Is it Foxglove?  Please tell me it's Foxglove." Xandor chuckled indulgently.  "It is." "Finally."  Tokk grinned like a child presented a long awaited new toy.  "I am going to drink that little shit's blood.  Let's go." -----

The Laughing Pig was busy when Foxglove sidled through the loose hanging front door.  It was always an effort to close and lock it, so the tavern's owner, Epotepp, just stayed open most of the time, even in the sparsely attended daylight hours.  According to legend, the door had been broken in a bar brawl that had included first a hobgoblin, then as time passed, a goliath, then a troll, and most recently a hill giant.  The offending party seemed to get a little bit bigger every time Epotepp told the story. Foxglove slid into the back booth and whispered into Raven's delicately pointed ear.  "Is this a good idea, meeting here?" She leaned in to him and whispered, "Who would have the nerve to spend time at the tavern right next door to where they had perpetrated such an audacious crime?  No one, of course." She took his pale, long fingered hand in both her dusky, elegant ones and squeezed, her breath hot at his neck. "You're too reckless, little bird," he hissed.  "That old fool Lacoul may not suspect, but Mother knows something.  I can feel it." Raven raised an eyebrow.  "Did she say something?" Foxglove glanced around the room nervously.  "Not exactly.  At least nothing specific. ��But I've known her a long time, and I know when she's angry.  She's angry about something." "Maybe it's nothing to do with you.  She knew about the opium, and you gave her that.  But she said nothing about any allnight powder, right?  And that's worth enough to get us out of this garbage city." "Right, right.  I just can't shake the feeling that she knows something." "You worry too much." She danced the tip of her tongue around his ear, which was also slightly pointed.  "Have a drink, my love." She released one of her hands and lifted her mug to his lips. He grumbled, but took a sip.  "It's good." "Only the best for the best thieves in the city." ----- (Five years earlier) "C'mere, runt!" bellowed Tokk.   Slightly younger than his quarry, he already towered over him by more than a foot.  The smaller boy tried to run, but Tokk's long arm reached out and clotheslined him, sending Foxglove down to the Guild floor in a puff of cat hair.  "Nice try." He put a foot on the boy's chest and peered down at him.  "Aw, just a baby." he said.  "No hair, no muscles, no dick." "Leave me alone, you tower of shit!" screeched Foxglove. "Foul words for such a tiny boy," sniggered Tokk, holding the squirming boy down with ease. "Will you ever sprout hair, I wonder? Or will you just be a baby forever?  Don't bother calling for help.  No one is going to save you.  Not even Mother.  She doesn't want us to be soft, you see." He lifted his foot, and Foxglove tried to scurry away, but Tokk was too fast, grabbing the little thief by his collar and dragging him out the front door of the Guild into the street as he struggled helplessly. The Lower Harbor District had once been home to some of the city's wealthiest, and boasted an advanced sewer system.  However, when the Lower (as most denizens called it) fell on hard times, the maintenance of the labyrinthine sewers fell by the wayside quickly.  The tunnels were no longer cleaned, and many of the access points lay open as a hazard to those walking the streets.  One such hole gaped in the road in front of the Guild, and Tokk dragged Foxglove toward it with grim purpose. Unceremoniously, the boy was dumped into the foul-smelling tunnel with a pitious shriek. Tokk laughed.   "Bye, bye, now.  Hope you find your way out."  He slammed a previously hidden lid down on the hatch.  "If something doesn't eat you first." Foxglove, stunned by the long drop, lay panting on his back in a shallow stream of putrid sewage.   "Now what?" he muttered. It built slowly, first a murmur, then a sort of low moaning, then a basso profundo sort of vibration, that made his guts tremble.  His stomach lurched and his vision blurred as an acidic panic started to burn through his body. Something was coming. ---- Foxglove writhed helplessly in the waste water, retching painfully.  The small amount of food in his stomach gone almost immediately, he found himself unable to stop vomiting, gasping and weeping as dry heaves shook his body, and the low groaning chorus grew closer and louder. He tried to get up, but as he pushed himself up to his knees, the world lurched violently, and he fell forward on his face, foul water entering his mouth and nose. Something grabbed him around his waist. He tried to scream, but only succeeded in swallowing more sewage.  Some weirdly quiet part of his brain thought, well, at least that's something to throw up... And then he was being dragged out of the water.  Huh, so this is how I die? He fell on his back onto something solid as whatever it was released him.  His blurred vision saw a shape above him, and he tried to swing at it. "Put your hands down, idiot, I'm trying to help you!" What? Suddenly, something soft shoved its way into both his ears.  The horrible moaning all but vanished. The vomiting stopped, his eyes began to focus.  A ragged looking girl with large eyes and pointed ears appeared in his vision, skinny, all arms and legs.  Better? she mouthed. Can you get up? Foxglove sat up abruptly.  He nodded, eyes wide with fear. Then run, stupid! She grabbed his hand and pulled him up.  They ran. ----- While Raven, her laughter ringing out across the room, drunkenly made the rounds with friends and strangers in the Laughing Pig, Foxglove stared into his wine and went over the heist again and again in his head.   So we climbed up to the third floor of Lacoul's shop, where the office and storage was.  Had that brief slip, but didn't make much in the way of noise. Didn't see any guards, didn't trip any traps. No torches or lanterns, just went by natural night vision, a gift from forgotten fey parentage on his part, and from Raven's full sylvan blood. He rewound the scene again in his mind, concentrating on details, trying to push past the parts he already knew.  What was his memory missing? Wait. When they had popped the little access door on the roof (it was remarkably easy, it had merely required a crowbar...not even reinforced with steel.  Lacoul likely wouldn't make that mistake again in the future), he had half seen a shadow move out of the corner of an eye. Looked around, though, nothing. Then they had moved like ghosts into the office, and Raven had picked the lock on the desk while he watched for any problems.  Nobody came, no cry of alarm.  If one of Mother's thugs had followed them, surely he would have heard or seen them.  The most stealthy of that bunch may as well be wearing plate armor made of pots and pans to either his or Raven's senses. But that shadow still nagged at him. None of Mother's thugs, no way... But what about one of  her cats?   Oh, shit. Foxglove bolted to his feet, wobbling a touch from the potent top shelf wine they had been drinking. He moved quickly across the floor, weaving through the crowd to Raven's side.  She was whispering something salacious into the ear of a plainly captivated dancer, who was all curves, with a light frosting of nearly nonexistent silken clothing.  He grabbed Raven's arm. "We have to go." "Foxglove darling, meet Melisandre," she grinned, "She's my new girlfriend, I'm afraid I'm done with you now."  The dancer laughed, a trifle nervously. "Oh, fine, you can share me." She put one arm around Foxglove while still hanging on to the dancer. She leaned in to his ear.  "Can we take her home?  I like her.  I think you'll like her." "Normally I'd be keen, of course, but we really must go.  Right now."  He dragged Raven to her feet. She pouted.  "So. Serious. What is it, my love?" Her eyes, soft with wine and lust, stared up at him...and then flickered behind him.  "NO!" And she shoved him, hard. Foxglove found himself on the tavern's filthy, sticky floor, looking up at Raven, who had suddenly sprouted the hilt of an ugly looking dagger just below her collarbone.  Melisandre screamed and tried to scramble away, as Raven slowly collapsed on her. "I'll take that," hissed Xandor, the dark elven assassin, shoving the weeping, terrified dancer out of the way, and letting Raven fall into his grasp.  "Naughty girl, that dagger wasn't for you." He met Foxglove's eyes with cool detachment.  "This one was." And with a single, fluid move, he sliced her throat open and blood gushed from it like a tiny crimson waterfall. NO! RAVEN, NO! Foxglove struggled to his feet, and grabbed for his own blade.  He pulled it out but was jostled by the crowd around him, all running from the deadly assault happening in the crowded tavern.  A hard impact to the back of his head rattled his teeth and his vision rolled wildly around.  The dagger left his nerveless fingers and sailed harmlessly off into space.   He whirled, and backed up diagonally, trying to keep track of Xandor's position in his periphery.  He saw Raven slump lifeless to the ground and the killer stalk slowly towards him through the fleeing crowd. Tokk stood before him, grinning crookedly down at the much shorter man, flipping another dagger in his hand, a match for the one in Raven's chest.  "I knew this day would come, runt.  You were always too smart for your own good.  Now your bitch is dead, and you're gonna die too." Tokk approaching from one side, Xandor coming up on my flank. One dagger down.  He gritted his teeth and shook his head, trying to clear his vision form the blow to the head and the tears that he was trying desperately to hold back.  Then a pop of each wrist and deadly knives appeared in each hand as if by magic. The thief hurled both with all his might, one at each assailant.  The dagger thrown at Xandor flew like a hawk at a mouse and sunk with extraordinary force into the dark elf's eye.  Dead almost instantly, he went down like a felled tree. The dagger thrown at Tokk picked up some unfortunate spin, and hit him in the face, but with the hilt, not the blade.  The half-orc thug cursed and clutched at his broken snout-like nose. Run, stupid! A sob wrenching itself from deep in his chest, he ran. ----- "Welcome to my nest," Raven grinned, as they crawled through the window of a high ceilinged squat at the top of a rotting deserted warehouse by the docks.  She unselfconsciously shrugged out of the sewage soaked clothes she was wearing and peered back at Foxglove, who was staring awestruck at her.  "What?" "I...oh...nothing."  He hurriedly looked down at the floor, automatically noting dangerous looking floorboards.  OK, she wasn't all arms and legs after all. "You're ridiculous," she laughed.  "Don't you want to take those clothes off?  I mean, no offense, because I'm in the same boat, but you need a bath.  We both do." "A bath?" "Ah, yes." She strode across the room to a a rather large metal tub, which was positioned under a discolored iron  pipe that led into the ceiling and pulled a lever.  Water began splashing into the tub.  "Rainwater collects in a cistern on the roof.  I think there was a small smithy up here once upon a time." "That's, ummm, convenient." "Yes.  But here's the best part.  I have a little trick of my own."  She muttered under her breath and made a few arcane gestures, and a flame rose from her palm. She blew on it, and it arced over to the tub.  There was a hiss, and steam began to rise from the water.   She winked, and climbed in with a sigh. "So, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to take off your clothes and get in?  There's plenty of room." ---- Later, entangled in each other's limbs, skin wet and a little bit cold in the harbor breeze coming in through the window, Raven murmured, "So what kind of name is Foxglove?" Foxglove said nothing for a moment, listening to the nearby seawash, mixed with occasional street sounds, and the distant chiming of marker buoys on one side, and the hum and hiss of the city on the other.  "What kind of name is Raven?" "My mother liked birds.  Your turn." He grunted with mock annoyance.  "OK, fine."  He drew little circles in the palm of her hand, as he closed his eyes.  "Apparently, whoever had me dropped me in a patch of foxglove flowers down at the Lower dump. That's where some of Cat Mother's gang found me, or so I was told. I was just a baby, I don't remember." "They carried me back to the Guild, and I became one of her adoptees.  She collects unwanted children and cats."  He smirked into the darkness. "I guess I should be grateful. Instead of being a meal for rats, I ended up with a home and a trade. Of sorts." Raven nodded, and snuggled up closer to him, her breath soft and warm on his neck.  "And unwanted, awful siblings like that ugly fuck that dropped you down a hole." Foxglove shrugged.  "I guess I'm just lucky in my bad luck.  I get tossed in the trash, somebody pulls me out.  I get thrown in a sewer, and a beautiful girl comes to my rescue." "Sweet talker." She kissed his cheek.  "I was only going to have my way with you once and send you packing.  Now I may just have to have you twice and send you packing." "Dear lady, I am completely in your hands. Do with me as you will." "In my hands?  Not true."  She adjusted her position, and he gasped sharply.  "NOW you're in my hands." -----