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#I’ve have this pup over half my life
laxchra · 2 years
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‘Aight I gotta share this ‘cause mY BABY she’s 17 today ❤️💙
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writeforfandoms · 9 months
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Howlin’ For You
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Wolf shifter!Soap gets himself lost on a run one night and runs into you. The problem? You think he's a dog and take him home to try and find his people. Naturally, Soap falls head over heels.
Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader
Warnings: Swearing, shifter lore, world building, I just kinda throw y’all in the deep end, Price is pack dad. 
Word count: 8k
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Alright. So maybe the nighttime run had been a bad idea. Maybe. And maybe Soap shouldn’t have shifted on his own. And maaaaaybe he should have paid more attention to where he was going. 
But he wasn’t lost! He’d never been lost in his life, and he wasn’t about to start now.
He just… had to find the right road back to base. That was all. 
He briefly debated shifting back, but he didn’t fancy having to explain why he was running around naked. Price would kill him for that. And then Ghost would probably kill him, too. 
So he huffed and continued trotting along. Fortunately the wound in his shoulder had healed enough not to bother him at this easy pace, though he was careful to monitor it. Despite what medical said, he didn’t like being benched for injuries.
Which was why he’d gone on a night run in the first place. Couldn’t sleep, pack was gone on a mission, it seemed like a good idea at the time. 
…Yeah this had definitely been a bad idea.
Soap huffed again, pausing to shake himself off. He’d slid down a hill earlier, which hadn’t hurt him, but it had half-covered him in mud. He did not approve. He would much rather be clean.
And he’d get to clean off just as soon as he got back to base. 
Lifting his nose, he sniffed around for any hint he could pick up. But there was nothing special here - hints of deer and rabbits, old car smell, and tiny whiffs of human. But not a particular human, not like he was close to infringing on anyone’s property. 
Which meant he was pretty well in the middle of nowhere.
Gaz was never going to let him live this down. 
His ears pricked and he turned his head as he heard a car coming down the road, slowly getting louder. He trotted a couple steps off to the side, just in case, and watched as the car rounded the bend, headlights even brighter in the relative dark to his eyes. The car slowed and the hazard lights turned on, flashing orange in the dark, even as the car slowed to a stop on the shoulder. 
The driver’s door opened and Soap tensed a little, watching carefully. But it was just a woman - she smelled good. Human, absolutely, but good. His nose twitched in interest. 
“Hey pup,” she greeted, getting out of her car and crouching down. “You okay over there? Where are your people?” 
Oh. She thought he was a dog. Well, he supposed she could be forgiven for that - it was dark, and he was muddy, and okay yeah he did kind of look like a dog. Gaz liked to tease him about it sometimes. 
“I’ve got some goodies here,” she continued, moving slowly, pulling a bag out of her car. The crinkle caused his ears to perk, and he sniffed hopefully. Smelled like jerky. Mmm. “You want some? C’mere, I’ve got plenty.” She tossed a piece about half-way across the road, and he trotted forward to gobble it up. 
Really, she was nowhere near a threat, even with him on four legs. He could get himself out of trouble easily enough. 
“Good pup,” she crooned, keeping her voice gentle. “You want more?” She held out a piece to him. 
Soap paused to consider this. On the one hand, free food. On the other, she was clearly trying to get him close enough to check for a collar, which she wouldn’t find. 
Well. If nothing else, she’d get him back to civilization, and from there he could figure out how to get back to base. He’d be fine.
So he stepped forward to take the jerky from her, making sure to be very gentle. He didn’t even flinch as her free hand checked for a collar. 
“Looks like you escaped from someone’s yard,” she mused softly, gaze sweeping over him. “Alright. Do you wanna come in the car? Go on a little car ride? I’ll give you more jerky.”
Soap just wagged his tail at her, waiting patiently as she opened the back door before he hopped in. At least she didn’t try to buckle him in, he hated that. She did give him another piece of jerky, as promised, before she slid back into the driver’s seat. 
This was going to be interesting. 
You couldn’t help glancing back at the dog in the backseat. Partially to make sure he was okay, partially because you were nervous, and partially because you were trying to figure out if you’d seen him before. He was a big dog, but very well behaved. Hopefully you’d be able to get the mud off of him to get a better look at him. 
The vet was undoubtedly closed by now, so you wouldn’t be able to get him checked for a microchip until morning. 
But you couldn’t regret bringing him home. You just didn’t have it in you to leave a dog on the side of the road, especially one so obviously a beloved pet. 
You parked in front of your tiny house, getting out and gathering up your things before letting the dog out. You had another piece of jerky in hand, hoping that would entice him to cooperate. 
“This way,” you murmured to the dog, watching him hop down out of your car. “C’mon, let’s go inside and get cleaned up. And maybe have some dinner, hmm?”
The dog wagged his tail again and trotted right up to the front door, like he expected to be let in. You laughed softly but let him in, giving him the piece of jerky and then giving him a minute to sniff around. 
“Alright, if you’re a pet, you should know better than to potty in the house,” you said, setting your things down. “Shower first, I think. For you.” You eyed the muddy pawprints left on the floor and decided that was now a tomorrow problem. “Okay. C’mon pup.” You tapped the side of your thigh, and the dog followed you back to your bathroom. 
He didn’t even protest getting in the shower, thankfully. Just stood under the spray calmly. 
The problems started when you got out the shampoo. (Which, honestly, you were amazed you still had any under your sink, you’d bought it for a friend’s dog ages ago.) 
Then he boofed softly, circling in the shower and refusing to hold still for more than a second at a time. He kept pulling his paws away from you. 
“Stubborn,” you grumbled at the dog, though you couldn’t help but laugh when he kept walking under your hand, inadvertently spreading the shampoo. “Well, I guess this is one way to do it.” 
Rinsing off was another exercise in patience - the dog didn’t want to hold still, and ended up shaking muddy soap suds all over the shower, and your clothes. You just sighed deeply. 
“Don’t make me regret being nice to you,” you grumbled, finally washing off the last of the soap. “Alright, guess it’s time to dry off.”
The dog bounded out of the shower and bounced around the tiny bathroom. Seriously bounced. Water got everywhere, and you just stared for a moment in absolute dismay.
“Definitely regretting all my life choices.” But you grabbed a towel and started working on drying him off.
It took two towels before you released him into the rest of the house and changed out of your dirty clothes. 
The dog, of course, acted like nothing was wrong and sat patiently in the kitchen, tail wagging. 
“You’re a menace,” you told the dog, although you started gathering up ingredients anyway. “It’s probably super late for your dinner, but oh well. This is when I normally eat.” You paused. “Shit, you can’t eat some things, right? Hang on.” You whipped out your phone to do a bit of frantic googling. 
The dog boofed again, walked two circles around you, and then laid down with the biggest sigh. You looked away from your phone and right into big gorgeous blue puppy dog eyes… and you caved, crouching down to scratch his ears. 
“You’re just too cute,” you grumbled. “I can’t be mad at you.” You stroked your hand down the dog’s back. “You’re a handsome boy too, aren’t you?” He really was, mostly red with a white stripe down his nose, white socks, and a little white blotch at his shoulders. You’d lay even odds that he was part husky. 
He stayed where he was as you cooked, humming a little to yourself, big eyes following your every move. But at least he wasn’t underfoot. 
“Tomorrow I’ll take you to the vet, see if you’ve got a microchip,” you told him, leaning back against the counter to let everything cook a bit. “And if not, I’ll put up signs. You can’t have traveled too far.” 
The dog just sat up when you plated food, leaving a bowl on the ground for him. You’d checked all the ingredients and just had to hope it wouldn’t upset his stomach. 
After throwing the dishes in the sink and taking him out for a potty break, you were more than ready for bed. 
Apparently, so was the dog, as he immediately hopped up on your bed.
“Hey!” You frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 
The dog wagged his tail at you and then circled the end of the bed before laying down, curled into an almost perfect circle. 
“Oh my god.” You threw your hands up and turned to get ready for bed. “Fine, but don’t complain if I kick you in the middle of the night.” 
But if you were being honest with yourself, when you laid down to sleep, the soft breathing and the warmth of the dog was… soothing. He made you feel less alone, less isolated. 
You reminded yourself firmly to not get attached, because he wasn’t staying. 
So, of course, he wasn’t microchipped.
“Nope,” the vet tech confirmed the following morning. “No microchip. I don’t recognize him, either.”
“Well, it was worth a try,” you said on a sigh, patting the dog’s head. “Thanks for checking for me.”
“Sure thing!”
“Guess I need to make some posters,” you said, looking down at the dog. He boofed at you, tail wagging. 
You had a feeling it was going to be a long day.
Soap actually hadn’t meant to stay this long. He really hadn’t. But, well, you were pretty and lonely. It wasn’t hard for him to smell it on you, although it was less pervasive when he stuck near you. 
And the team wasn’t supposed to be back for a few more days, so it wasn’t a problem to stay for a little longer. 
(He could also admit, if only to himself, that he also needed more time to orient himself. He had no idea where the fuck he had ended up.) 
Maybe it was a bad idea, but he was making it work. And he wasn’t stupid, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay long. Tonight, probably, he’d have to leave. Now that he knew where he was and where he needed to go. 
Hell, he knew that if Price found out, he’d have Soap’s head. Staying with an uninitiated human was risky, even though he had excellent control of his shifts. And it wasn’t just a risk to himself, but to his whole team. 
Bad decisions seemed to be the theme of his forced downtime, though. 
He’d just have to leave tonight and sneak back onto base. No big deal. Nobody would know, he wouldn’t get in trouble, everything would be fine. 
He did feel a bit bad when he hopped down lightly from your bed. Hopefully you wouldn’t spend too much time looking for him. 
Making sure to leave the back door cracked open a few inches to show how he’d gotten out, Soap trotted off back towards base. It would be tight, getting back in before sunrise, but he’d always enjoyed a good challenge. 
He didn’t enjoy being wrong.
Which he very much was.
Price stood outside the barracks, arms crossed, staring down at him. Soap gulped, ears flattening to his head, tail tucked. 
“Inside,” Price growled, opening the door for him. Soap slunk through the door, obediently following Price down the hall and to his room. 
By now, the lot of them had no shame around each other. Hard to be body-shy when they’d all shifted together, many times, and shared sometimes tight sleeping quarters. So Soap just waited until the door was closed to shift back to human. 
“Explain.” Price leaned back against the door, arms crossed over his chest again.
“Didn’t think ye’d be back so soon,” Soap muttered, grabbing a shirt first. 
Price didn’t say anything, just stared Soap down, even and outwardly calm as only he could be. 
“Just went for a run,” Soap said, shrugging, even as he grabbed more clean clothes to pull on. “No’ a big thing.”
“Must have been a long run.” 
“Aye.” Soap swallowed. “Might’ve gone farther than I wanted.” 
Price nodded once. “Any trouble?”
Soap shook his head. “Nah. I was careful.”
Finally, Price’s shoulders relaxed. “Good. And your shoulder?”
“Almost healed.” Soap relaxed too, grinning briefly. “I’m careful ‘bout it!”
Price snorted his disbelief of that. “Then you can go running with Ghost. 0600.”
Soap didn’t groan, because that wouldn’t help his case. He tried not to pout, because this was absolutely a punishment, and they both knew it. “Yes, sir.” 
Price nodded once and let himself out, the door clicking shut softly after him. Soap flopped face-first onto his bed and groaned into his pillow. 
You tried hard not to be heartbroken when you found the back door open a little, cold morning air wafting in. The dog was gone.
Hopefully he’d find his way back home on his own. 
You spent the next three days keeping your eyes open any time you went anywhere, just in case. If he was still lost, well, at least he knew you. You could always make more dog-friendly food. 
And when you didn’t see the dog for a week, you figured that was it. He’d found his way back home. That was okay. It was much better for him to be at home. You wouldn’t wish losing a dog on anyone. At least, not anyone who took such good care of their dog. 
You parked in front of your house and slumped forward, forehead resting on the steering wheel. You were tired. Exhausted, really. The kind of exhausted that came from too little sleep and stress and probably a little bit of touch starvation. 
You might have stayed right there for longer, trying to find the energy to move, except there was a woof, and then the car shook a little as a dog stood on its hind legs to look in the window. The dog. 
“What the hell?” You blinked at the dog and then grabbed your things, opening the door. “What are you doing here?”
The dog wagged happily at you, boofing at you and running up to the front door. When you didn’t move fast enough, he ran back to you, tail still wagging. 
“I thought you went home.” You blinked again but moved slowly to the door, opening the door. The dog pushed past you to head inside, trotting right along. He looked good - no mud this time, at least. His coat looked good, and he didn’t look like he’d lost any weight. So he was being taken care of.
Even if he had escaped yet again. 
“You’re going to give your people a heart attack,” you scolded gently, locking the door behind you before putting your things down. “How did you even get back here?” 
He whined a little, excited, tail still going a mile a minute as he tried to wait patiently for you in the kitchen. You dropped a hand to pat the top of his head, opening your fridge to look inside.
Not that there was much to see. You hadn’t been shopping, and it showed. 
“Um.” You frowned, glancing down at the dog. “Hm. Well, I can probably whip up something.” 
The dog watched you, sitting just at the edge of your space so he was barely not in the way, eyes bright and ears perked. He was pretty big for a husky, even though the coloring matched. He was probably a mutt of some kind, but you were a bit surprised at his size. 
“Here you go, big boy.” You set a bowl down for him again and took your own plate to the tiny table. 
Where you sat and stared at it, stomach turning. You needed to eat. You knew you needed to eat.
You just… didn’t want to.
The dog rested his head on your thigh, whining softly. But he was looking up at you, not at your plate. 
“It’s okay, pup,” you immediately murmured, one hand dropping to scratch between his ears. “You still hungry? I’ll give you more in a little bit, have to make sure that settles okay first.” You gently rubbed your thumb over his furry forehead and between his eyes in slow, soothing strokes. His eyes closed with a big sigh. 
You weren’t sure exactly how long you sat there, curiously blank, stroking this dog. Long enough that your food had gone cold. Finally, you gave up on it and put a bit more into the dog’s bowl before putting the rest away for another day. 
Your bedtime routine was barely disturbed by the dog, and he once again hopped up onto your bed. This time, you didn’t protest, just let him get comfortable. 
And when his head landed on your thigh, his warmth stretched out next to your legs, you just sighed softly and closed your eyes. 
You weren’t sure if you were surprised or not when you woke to an empty bed and chilly morning air. 
It took a while to drag yourself through your routine, getting ready for work by rote, brain definitely not engaged yet. Why bother?
But you still stopped, blinking owlishly at the sight of the dog sitting in the middle of the kitchen, tail wagging, jaws parted in a doggy grin.
“Oh. You’re still here.” You felt dumb saying it out loud, admitting to what you’d assumed. That he was gone again. And then you felt even more stupid because he couldn’t reply and didn’t even know what you’d said. “Well. I guess you’ll want breakfast, then.”
You reheated the leftovers from last night for him and set them down before getting your own things ready. You still had a few minutes before you had to leave for work, which you spent pondering what to do with the dog.
You couldn’t leave him locked inside. It wasn’t fair to him, and you didn’t want to come home to a ruined house. 
He solved your dilemma by walking to the front door and sitting calmly, looking back at you. You huffed out something close to a laugh.
“Well, I guess you know your way home by now,” you agreed, gathering up your things and opening the front door for him. “Be careful, there are always idiots on the road.” 
The dog boofed at you once before trotting off again, tail held high. 
You got in your car and went to work. 
Soap wasn’t an idiot. He knew this was a bad idea. He knew he should put you out of his mind and move on, because you didn’t know and couldn’t know about his nature. 
But something about you just… pulled at him. Maybe it was how uncomplicated things were with you. Maybe it was the way you smiled for him. Maybe it was that he could help you feel better.
Maybe it was that his wolf loved the way you smelled and wanted to just bury himself in your blankets.
Whatever it was, Soap ended up sneaking away to you just about every chance he got. Any time the team had downtime, he was off. He couldn’t go during the full moon, because the pack always ran that night together, but he still managed to make time to go visit you. 
“If you keep running off, Cap’s gonna follow you one day,” Gaz said as he dropped down next to Soap. 
Soap huffed. “He hasn’t yet,” he pointed out, mostly just to be contrary.
“Ghost will, then.”
Soap had no retaliation for that because LT absolutely would. Actually, he was a little surprised that Ghost hadn’t already. 
“Might be better to just come clean about wherever it is you run off to,” Gaz continued, slanting a look at the Scot even as he pushed food around his plate. 
Soap huffed. Gaz was… not exactly wrong. But it still wasn’t a good idea. Not even close. He needed to figure out how to tell Price without the captain flipping. 
“Don’t suppose you’re offering t’ help,” he grumbled, side-eyeing the other sergeant. 
Gaz perked up a little, taking a moment to think as he chewed. “Might be,” he mumbled. “For an interesting enough reason.”
This was a bad idea. This was a very bad idea. 
But Gaz was right - this was going to blow up in his face sooner or later. He could mitigate the damage with a bit of help and a fair bit of luck. 
“Swear you won’t tell.” Soap held his gaze, drawing himself up a little straighter. 
Gaz looked briefly taken aback before he nodded, slow and serious. “I swear.”
Soap nodded, took a deep breath, and started from the beginning. (Well. Not the beginning, because he still refused to admit that he’d been… temporarily discombobulated.) 
After the expected razzing (and only a bit of shoving), Gaz stood to clear his place, Soap scrambling a little after him. A quick look around and the two went back to Gaz’s bunk to talk quietly. 
“Right,” Gaz muttered, gaze darting around as he plotted. “I want to meet her.”
Soap puffed up, eyes narrowing. “Why?” 
“To see what she’s like for myself.” Gaz shoved him a bit with a little huff. “No offense, mate, but you’re a bit smitten.” 
Soap opened his mouth to protest… and then shut it again. Because. Well. He couldn’t, in fact, protest that. He swallowed.
“This is not a good idea,” Gaz muttered. “Got a couple days off coming up, yeah?”
“Aye,” Soap agreed slowly.
“We’ll both go.”
Soap blinked at that. “Shifted?”
“Well, you said she takes you in, thinks you’re a dog.” Gaz shrugged. “Probably won’t think any different of me.”
This was truly a terrible idea. Part of Soap rebelled at the idea for no good reason, too - you were his, and he didn’t want to share you. But he’d have to. Especially if he ever wanted more with you than the stolen moments as a wolf. 
“Right.” Soap breathed in deep. “We’ll try it.”
You almost didn’t even bother to get out of bed. But it was after noon, and you needed to drink something at least. Even if the very thought of food made you nauseous. So you shoved yourself out of bed, hands shaking only a little as you put the kettle on. 
A soft woof at the back door nearly made you drop your mug, and you fumbled for a few moments before you saved it and put it on the counter instead. 
There was a dog at your door. No, scratch that. The dog was at your door. With a friend. 
“What the fuck.” You stared at the two dogs, blinking stupidly. The second dog was just as big, medium gray with the classic black saddle and tail tip. His snout was black too. Almost like a German shepherd, but in gray instead of tan. 
Your dog, the red and white one, woofed again, tail wagging. Almost on autopilot, you opened the door for him. 
“What the fuck,” you said again, watching as the second dog came in too, just as easy and confident as your dog. “Damn I wish you could talk. Is this your buddy? Do you live together? Have you both escaped the same yard? Or did you steal someone else’s dog?” You rubbed a hand over your eyes.
The kettle started whistling, and you trudged over to it to pour hot water for tea. Your dog kept pace with you, sniffing your legs and then your belly and whining softly at you. 
“I dunno what you want,” you said, one hand drifting down to his head, rubbing a soft ear between your fingers. “It’s not dinner time. …I think.” You frowned, squinting at your phone. “No. Too early.”
The other dog kept a little more distance but did sniff your hand and accepted a couple gentle head pats. Tea helped you feel more steady, and your dog hopped up on the couch to curl up next to you. 
“You can relax,” you told the other dog quietly, eyelids already drooping again. “You’re safe here. I’ll make dinner for you later.” 
The other dog laid down on the floor a couple feet from the two of you, head resting on his paws, eyes open and trained on you. You didn’t take it personally, just huffing a soft laugh and closing your eyes the rest of the way. 
“It’s too bad you have to go,” you muttered, hand resting on your dog’s head, which was pillowed on your thigh. “Nice to have some company.” 
Your dog sighed, warm even through your clothes, and wiggled even closer to you. An afternoon nap was definitely in order today. 
You woke to the sound of grumbling. Not quite a growl but not exactly a happy sound either. You blinked a few times, lifting your head (ow) to try to figure out what was going on.
Your dog was perched over you, head low, grumbling a little at the other dog. Who huffed right back at him, ears flicking forward and back. 
“No fighting,” you mumbled, almost reflexively. “Or take it outside or something.” 
Both dogs paused, looking at you, and your dog sniffed your face before licking your nose. You blew out a breath that was almost a laugh. 
“C’mon, get off. I’ll cook.” You pushed the dog, more or less gently, until he hopped off the couch. 
Cooking didn’t make you nauseous, at least. Even if you still had very little interest in eating anything. 
The two dogs seemed to have given up on whatever spat woke you up, for which you were grateful. Your house was not at all dog proofed, and you were amazed nothing had been broken yet. 
You forced yourself to shower, because you needed to and it was easier to motivate yourself to do something with the dog around. Then you sat up for a little while reading, your dog curled up on your bed with his head resting on your stomach, the other dog laying on the floor near the foot of the bed.
You were honestly surprised when you woke up and they were both still there, two heads popping up as soon as you sat up. 
You finally felt better this morning. You’d slept better, too. You actually ate after you cooked and spent a bit of time outside, watching the two tear around the yard chasing each other. 
But when your dog stopped next to you just as the sun began to sink, you knew.
“Time to go back home?” you asked him, smoothing down his fur from his playtime. He whined softly, wiggling closer to you and resting his head on your knee to look up at you with those big blue puppy eyes. “Well. You be careful.” You gently smoothed your fingers over the top of his head, smiling a little even though it hurt. “I don’t wanna hear about any dogs getting run over, okay?” 
He huffed out through his nose, his eyes closing as he leaned his weight into your legs. You chuckled, patting his head before removing your hand entirely.
“Okay. Go on, before it gets dark.” 
He looked up at you, almost pleading, before a soft bark from the other dog got his attention. His ears half-lowered, and he licked your hand once before he backed off and then darted off to join his friend. 
The two of them were gone from your sight in moments.
You didn’t move until the cold forced you to go back inside. 
“You,” Gaz started once they were both back in human skin, “are so fucked.” 
Soap slumped. “Donnae remind me,” he groaned. 
“So fucked,” Gaz continued as if he hadn’t heard. “Pretty sure your wolf has all but actually claimed her.”
Soap rubbed a hand over his face, because Gaz wasn’t wrong. But you had no idea he was a shifter, and he couldn’t tell you without Price’s permission. Which meant he also couldn’t pursue anything with you until you knew. It was… a situation. Definitely. 
“Lucky for you, I have an idea.”
Soap perked up at that, hopeful. “Aye?”
Gaz had already grabbed his phone, typing quickly. “We can’t tell her,” he said, gaze focused on his phone. “But we can give her a nudge in the right direction.”
Soap leaned over, trying to see what Gaz was doing. “Gaz,” he said slowly, confused. “Why are ye texting yer mum?” 
“Trust me.” Gaz flashed him a grin that was mostly teeth. “She had to woo Dad. She can help.” 
This was probably a terrible idea. But. It was better than anything he’d come up with. So Soap shrugged, letting it happen. 
“Now, for the other part of this plan.” Gaz grinned as he dug through Soap’s things, ignoring the Scot’s grumbling, until he found the collar. (Soap had drawn the short stick and had been stuck for an op. The collar had been to make him look less threatening. Fortunately for everyone involved, it had been a short op.) 
“No.” Soap crossed his arms over his chest, glowering.
“Just wait,” Gaz soothed, grinning like the looney he clearly was. “I have a plan.” 
Soap groaned. This was going to end terribly. For him.
There was a box on your front porch. You blinked at it, confused. You hadn’t ordered anything. And yet your name was written on top of the box, with no shipping address or return address. 
You brought the box inside. Foolish, maybe, but it was too cold outside to stand out there and go through the box. 
A handful of books filled the box most of the way, with a letter on top. Letting your curiosity get the better of you, you opened the letter first.
Keep an open mind while you read the books. There’s some very good information here. Things will make sense sooner or later.
It was unsigned, of course. You huffed. If this was a prank, it was pretty elaborate. 
So you pulled out the books, examining them one at a time. The first one looked hand-written, with no information on the title page. The second book was labeled, simply, Etiquette. The other two books were no better, giving you very little information.
It took a good five pages for you to figure out the handwritten book was about werewolves. Or wolf-shifters? The terminology became confusing very quickly. 
It felt like a prank.  You were sure someone was going to pop up and prank you, maybe record your reaction. Who, you didn’t know, but still. The feeling persisted.
Because this? This was crazy. This was an entire secret society, a subset of the population that lived an entire secret life. It was impossible.
And yet you kept reading.
But you forced yourself to stop and walk away after you finished that book, having barely moved. You needed to eat. You needed to drink something. You needed a damn reality check. 
Even so… Even so, you came back to the books after a meal and a walk. The little pile taunted you until you swore and swiped up the next book. 
Which was all on shifter-people etiquette. Apparently. How they interacted with each other, how they interacted with humans. 
Even if this did turn out to be a prank of some kind, it was an incredibly elaborate one. 
One you couldn’t get out of your head. 
It took a few days to read through all the books in between work, but you did. And then you went back and took a few notes, because some things were just… too interesting. Too unique. 
You did keep the books in your bedroom. Not that you had a lot of company (or any), but it felt… wrong. To leave them out on display. So you hid them away. 
You couldn’t explain why, but it felt like the right thing to do. 
Now if only you could figure out why. 
It was another three weeks until the dog came back, once again arriving at your house at almost the same time you did. He looked the same as always, tail wagging, jaws parted in a canine grin.
Except he was wearing a collar.
“Oh so your person does have a collar for you,” you grumbled, opening the front door for him. “Look at that, it’s practically a miracle.” 
He boofed softly at you before running around to sniff everything, clearly trying to get caught up on whatever he’d missed. Which was… not much. A spill of take-out one night, a few naps on the couch, and late dinners after work. 
Typical for you.
“Alright, c’mere pup.” You tapped your thigh, pulling your phone out. “Let me call your person to come get you.”
The dog drooped a little but obediently walked back to you, sitting patiently while you dialed the number you found on his tag. “Soap,” you mumbled, examining the tag. “Who the hell names their dog Soap?” 
“Yes?” The man who answered the phone sounded brusque, borderline rude. You blinked, caught off guard.
“Um, hi. I have your dog? He’s been wandering over to my place recently and, um, I figured you might want to come get him?” Your eyes slammed shut. You hadn’t meant to make that a question. Really. Your people skills were seriously awful. 
There was silence, then a sigh. “Soap?” he asked, dry with a hint of humor.
“Yeah.” You looked down at the dog, absently petting the top of his head.
“Right. I’ll be there soon. What’s the address?”
You hesitated for a moment before rattling it off. Well. He probably wasn’t secretly an axe murderer with such a sweet dog. 
There was a soft grunt as he confirmed the address. “It’ll be about an hour,” he said. And hung up.
“Well,” you muttered, looking down at your phone, “rude.” 
Soap whined at you softly, pawing at you gently until you resumed petting him. 
“Guess we’ve got an hour, buddy.” You stretched and stepped around Soap into the kitchen. “I need food or I’m gonna be hangry when your person gets here, and nobody wants that.” You slanted a look at him. “I assume you want food?” 
Soap’s tail started wagging, even though he sat patiently in his normal spot out of the way.
“Yeah, okay.” You huffed a little laugh and started pulling out ingredients. “You were gone for a while, buddy. I was worried about you.” You didn’t expect any kind of reaction from the dog.
Which is why you startled when he pressed his nose to your thigh with another soft whine. You looked down to find those big blue eyes focused on you, ears half-down, tail wagging slowly. 
“Aw, I’m not mad at you,” you murmured, leaning over a bit to scratch under his chin. “You’re okay, cutie.”
His tail thumped faster against the ground, and you had to spend a minute petting him before you could wash your hands and continue with dinner prep. 
Somehow, the knock on your door still caught you off-guard, enough that your fork clattered back to your dish. You looked at Soap, who looked back at you, ears up. Then you nodded once and stood, heading to the door. 
You opened the door and blinked up at the man on the other side. Muttonchops, floppy hat, stern-set mouth. Big. Broad. 
Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea.
“You called about Soap,” he said, voice brusque, though his tone gentled a little. He also didn’t make a move towards you, which helped a bit. 
“I did.” You pulled the door open further, turning to call Soap. Only to find him already right behind you. “Here he is.”
“You’re in trouble,” he said, gaze focused on Soap. “Come on.” 
But Soap took two steps forward until he could press against your legs, and stopped there. Leaning a good bit of his weight onto you. 
The man blinked once, one eyebrow raising as he looked between you and the dog slowly, something almost calculating in his gaze. 
“What are you doing?” you asked Soap, exasperated. “This is your person, you’re supposed to go home with him. Silly pup.” 
“He’s stubborn when he gets an idea in his head.” The man planted his hands on his hips, looking down at Soap. “How long has he been runnin’ up here?” 
“Oh, a few months.” Something about his tone made you nervous, made you shift your weight. But with Soap still leaning against you, the move ended up almost sending you falling over, and only a quick grab of the doorframe saved you any dignity at all. 
The man sighed, shaking his head briefly. “Stubborn,” he muttered again. “Should get Simon out here.”
Curiosity burned at you, but you kept your mouth shut. Instead you nudged Soap, trying to get him to leave your side. 
“Go on,” you encouraged him. “Don’t you wanna go home?” 
The man’s eyes sharpened suddenly. “What did you say?”
You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Don’t you wanna go home?” You repeated, only a little squeaky. 
Soap pressed harder into your legs, shoving his head under your free hand. And then the man sighed noisily. 
“Right,” he grunted. “Can I come in?” 
“Why?” You stiffened, hand gripping the doorframe tighter. 
“We need to have a conversation and I’d rather not do it out the door.” 
You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious. This was weird. This was definitely weird. You looked down at Soap, who was still pressed up against you, and back to the man. A little lightbulb went off finally.
“Is this about those books?”
“Books?” He frowned and then shook his head. “We should discuss this inside.” 
A little reluctantly, you let him inside. Soap stayed right next to you, going so far as to hop up onto the couch next to you. 
“Right,” the man muttered, rubbing a hand briefly over his chin. “What books are you talking about?” 
“I got these books, they were in a box on my porch. I thought it was a hoax at first, but…” You stood and jogged back to your room, grabbing the first book, the handwritten one. “I’m not so sure about that anymore.”
He took the book and flipped through the first few pages before he lifted his gaze to Soap. “Did you have something to do with this?” 
Soap huffed and rested his head across your lap as soon as you sat down again. 
That, more than anything, solidified things in your mind. Soap wasn’t just a dog. Soap was a shifter, of some kind. And undoubtedly this other person was as well. 
“Huh.” You looked down at Soap, examining him more carefully. “Guess that’s why you kept finding your way back here, even when you shouldn’t have been able to.” 
He just blinked up at you, wiggling a little closer and pushing his nose under your hand. 
“What do you know?”
You pulled your gaze back to the man across from you, chewing on your lip for a moment. “Honestly? Just what’s in the books. And like I said, I thought they were a hoax at first. I’m still…” You trailed off, not sure exactly how to express what you were feeling. 
He nodded, looking pensively between you and Soap. “Normally, we don’t tell others.” He paused to let that sink in, and you grimaced. “But this one found a way around that.” 
Soap’s tail thumped against the couch. Clearly, he was totally unrepentant. 
“So.” The man leaned forward, elbows braced on his thighs. “Let’s start from the beginning.” 
It took hours to cover it all. Price, as you finally learned his name, was more or less patient with you. Less so with Soap. 
The two finally left, with promises to bring you to base tomorrow. (Because, that’s right, Soap was apparently military, something you never would have guessed. And apparently Soap deciding you were his person got you some benefits? Honestly you were very unsure about all of this but Soap had given you such big imploring eyes that you’d caved.) 
You would have expected that you’d be up for hours longer, pacing, working through everything in your head. Honestly, though, you just had energy for a shower, and then collapsed into bed and slept hard. Clearly, you already had too much on your mind. 
You were still scrambling when the knock came at your door in the morning. “Hang on!” you shouted, hopping on one foot to shove your other shoe on, grabbing your purse and making sure you had everything you needed. 
Not that you really knew what you’d need, but. You had the basics, at least. 
Finally, you yanked the door open to an amused Price standing on your doorstep. Thankfully, he didn’t comment, just raised an eyebrow at you.
The drive was silent. Price kept his gaze on the road, sparing you only the occasional glance. For your part, you were too nervous to try talking. 
When Price turned down a long drive to a fenced area, you swallowed hard. 
“Nervous?” He couldn’t keep the amusement out of his voice.
“A bit,” you admitted, knee bouncing so at least you had some kind of outlet for your nerves. 
“Relax.” He slanted a look at you as he slowed near the gate guard. “You’ll be fine.” 
You swallowed again, knee bouncing as the guard lifted the gate and let the two of you through. Price continued down the road and pulled into a parking spot, cutting the engine.
You’d known, sort of, that this base was here. People talked about it - that base out of town. Sometimes military men came through to the store or the bar, although you weren’t the closest town to the base. 
But being here was something else entirely. You had no idea it was so big - lots of land, all enclosed. Multiple buildings spread out around the area, and you could see a group of runners off in the distance. 
“This way,” Price grunted, jerking you from your thoughts. You turned and hurried to follow him inside, fingers twisting around each other, nearly jogging to keep up with his longer strides. He stopped in front of a door, pushing it open and stepping inside. A little more slowly, you followed. 
Another man was standing in the middle of the room, mohawk mussed like he’d been running his hands through it, shoulders tense. You almost asked… but you met his gaze, eyes wide. 
“Oh.” You couldn’t help but smile, still holding his gaze, those beautiful blue eyes fixed on you. “Your eyes really don’t change at all, do they?” 
“Nah.” He smiled slowly, taking a step closer to you. 
“Still want me to call you Soap?” You smiled, tipping your chin. 
“Or Johnny.” His teeth flashed in a grin. “Ye can call me anythin’ ye want, lovely.”
You warmed at the easy affection, but you didn’t drop his gaze. “Can I…?” You lifted one hand slowly, a little cautious. 
Apparently that was all he needed, though, because he stepped straight into your space and wrapped himself around you. You blinked and then snorted, your hand settling at the back of his head to rub against the hairs there. 
“Personal space optional?” you teased, though you made absolutely no move away from him.
“What’s yours is mine,” he quipped, squeezing you affectionately. 
“Sergeant.” Price sounded exasperated, and you pulled back enough to peek at him, suddenly worried again. 
“This is why he didn’t let me drive to get you,” Soap said, unrepentant, shifting his grip on you enough to smooth one hand up and down your back. “Didnae think ah’d come back.”
“No,” Price said, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d come back until tomorrow.” 
You couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped you at that, and you relaxed again. “So, what now?”
Price huffed something akin to a laugh. “You get to meet the other two, then we do some paperwork.” 
“Speakin’ of.” Soap nodded to the door, grinning. Price heaved a sigh but walked over and pulled the door open. 
“Gaz.” He stepped aside to let the other young man in, and you blinked at him. He gave you a quick smile and a little wave, though he gave you a bit of space. Something about him seemed… familiar. 
“Did you come with Johnny one day?” You blinked, putting the pieces together. He kept the same bit of distance the other dog had, the same kind of reserved politeness. 
Gaz blinked twice, lips parting in surprise. “How’d you guess?”
“I mean, it’s not that big of a leap.” You shrugged, ignoring Soap chuckling. 
“We’ll talk about that later,” Price grumbled, shooting Gaz a look. Whoops. 
Another man slipped into the room, almost as big as Price, wearing a skull mask. You blinked, a little intimidated. 
“LT is a big softie,” Soap whispered in your ear, swaying the two of you side to side just a little. 
“Johnny.” The big one sounded vaguely amused but also disapproving. 
“This is Ghost,” Price said, since clearly he was the only one in the room with manners. 
You twisted in Soap’s arms to look at him, lifting your hand in a little wave. You almost felt awkward with Soap still hanging off of you, but you were also comfortable. Sure, he wasn’t a dog, but still. This felt normal. 
“Couldn’t keep your mouth shut, eh, Johnny?” Ghost sounded more amused than anything, though. 
“I only told Gaz,” Soap defended, squeezing you a little tighter. 
“Yes, about that.” Price raised one eyebrow at Gaz. Who immediately buckled and spilled the whole plot - the two of them going to visit you, and then Gaz writing his mum. 
“So those books were from your mum?” You’d all settled into chairs or the couch. (You’d had to swat Soap a few times when he tried to pull you down to sit in his lap.) 
“Must be.” He shrugged. “You still have ‘em, yeah?”
“Of course, they’re at home. I’ll bring them next time.” 
He shrugged. “No rush. We’ve got time.”
And you did, you realized with a blink. With Soap crowded up against your side, the other three ranged around the room, you realized you had plenty of time. Now that you weren’t just waiting on a surprise visit from a dog. You smiled to yourself and leaned into Soap. 
Yeah. You could get used to this. 
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larrylimericks · 1 year
Text
23Mar23
We’re feeling some internal friction At silver screen Louis’ depiction; All the world is a stage But it’s hard to engage When plot lines combine fact and fiction.
I get really rambly below the fold. Proceed with caution if you’re over the discourse already.
I debated seeing All of Those Voices in theaters. I didn’t see either of Harry’s films in theaters — Harries are too much of a wildcard, and I refused to sit through hours of squeals and gasps and reactions, not to the movie but to “omg! Harry’s going down on someone! omg, Harry’s bum!” So I was already tentative about seeing Louis’ film in a shared space, outside the protective silos of tumblr. But I bought a ticket, because I want to support him and because I was genuinely curious what story would be told. Then we got the trailer and I hesitated again, not wanting to watch a propaganda film. But, I’ve lived through all the other Bullshit moments, so I figured I could live through Bullshit on the big screen.
My theater crowd was great — pretty neutral aside from an amusing row of politely excitable Larries I was in secret solidarity with. And I pretty much loved the film. Well, 92% of it. I look forward to watching it again when it streams. I mean, it was an hour and a half of content featuring this fascinating creature we’re all obsessed with. I didn’t want to blink. I hung on his every word (when I could understand them). How cool to get, essentially, a long-form interview, where he’s not promoting an album and we’re not getting the same sound bytes. Louis is wonderfully open and vulnerable, and the story of his life (heh) is inherently compelling. The cinematography is beautiful. The behind-the-scenes are delightful and delicious. I can’t wait for the AOTV gif sets once we have it in high-def.
But it has some plot holes as wide and deep as the ones in Don’t Worry Darling.
First, there’s the confusing (to the uninformed) absence of a love interest. Louis is asexual, as far as the film goes. There’s not even a ghost of Eleanor, with whom he’s cumulatively spent a decade and who is supposed to have inspired so many great love songs and with whom he is supposed to have survived a pandemic. Props to E for living her best life now: going to see Scream on AOTV opening day, enjoying full custody of the pups, publicly supporting her assumed partner — sorry you got Kiki Layned from the film, but I’m guessing you weren’t even written into the script. (It’s not like the film was conveniently re-edited in the months since their break-up. Her stunt tapering was intentional.)
Then there’s the glaring absence of a baby mama (thank god; that family would have been even more insufferable). We’re cruising along for 45 minutes or so and then, wham, Dad!Louis enters the chat with a fully formed 6-year-old child. The kid just magically appears with no backstory — just like in real life ... twice (the first time with the pregnancy announcement and the second time with the revival of Dad!Louis after several years of dormancy, right in time for documentary filming. Just like Harry stunted with his co-star during filming and production, Louis stunted with his.)
The kid is cute, and faultless in this. The scenes are objectively sweet (as they were designed to be). But Louis, who normally keeps things very close to the vest, is all of a sudden an emotional spigot you can’t turn off when it comes to these scenes. It seems quite out of character. Which brings back to mind that this Louis *is* a character. The Freddie scenes just didn’t seem to have a point in the plot other than: Louis is a dad. And that role isn’t integral to the film’s story.
He’s incredibly emotional with Freddie, but the movie doesn’t tell us why. The storytelling gets lazy here. The lad/dad plot seems wedged in. The movie would be perfectly complete without it. I felt like it could have been integrated a few different ways: Louis experienced tragedy after tragedy after tragedy — loses 1D, loses his mum, loses his sister ... and then impending fatherhood either becomes another trial he must reluctantly face (in the surprise pregnancy narrative) or it helps him navigate the grief of losing his sole parent, his closest confidante. OR, Louis, not wanting to be like the absentee father he had, shows up for his own oopsie baby despite the unexpected circumstances. But there’s no exposition or rising action. No footage or photos from the first few years of the kid’s life that we haven’t already seen. Just an immaculate conception.
I think the most compelling narratives of the film are these:
Louis’ overcoming adversity after adversity after adversity. Holy hell. I lived through 1D ending, through the devastating news about Jay (god, I remember the shock and sadness of that day — it was incomprehensible), through the heartbreaking news about Fizzy, and then when you think Louis is gonna get his moment of victory with his first solo world tour, coronavirus pulls the rug out. (That sequence was well done: where we keep seeing the dates get closer and closer to March 2020, and we all know the villain that’s coming, but it’s still such a blow.) I lived through all that in real time, but seeing it in such a concentrated sequence really highlights the shit he’s been dealt, and hearing him open up about so much of it ... that’s the character development relevant to the film’s denouement. And getting to see Louis get what he deserves, finally, and hearing him acknowledge that he deserves it, was a lovely ending.
Louis’ journey to find his footing and his confidence as a solo artist after unfathomable success as part of a group. But, in a sort of plot twist, he’s not really solo, is he? The film gives a lovely introduction to his band now — and in their own words, reveals that they’re not just a backing band, they’re a *band* band. Louis has let them in. He’s forged a new brotherhood. *That*, for me, was the heartwarming story. I loved those scenes, loved seeing Louis in his element, which is in a collective, where he is both king and jester at the same time. (Or perhaps Oli’s the jester. Thank fuck for him, man. Oli is the standout. The breakthrough performance. The comic relief. I want a spinoff series.) It’s easy to miss 1D and glorify those short years and think nothing will ever top it, but Charlie’s storytelling of the LT Band is remarkable. We’re left looking forward, not back.
I know Louis’ dedication to his fans and his fans’ dedication to him is a huge focus, but I don’t really enjoy watching commentaries on fandoms I’m a part of. I’m living it. I don’t need outsider context. And in a fandom as fractured as Louis’ (and 1D’s) there’s not a universal experience. The film depicts dedication as sleeping on streets for rail, hopping from country to country and draining bank accounts — because that’s the kind of “superfandom” that gets easily turned into a marketable freak show. Show me the documentary on the fans who organize the light projects, who run the fashion accounts, who curate livestream sources on show nights, who have turned giffing into an art and science, who help promote Louis in the absence of a competent marketing team, etc., etc. I also thought the interview with the American(?) girls talking about LATAM shows was shortsighted. And showing the rainbow factions but not addressing them? What a missed opportunity to talk about songs like Only the Brave becoming a queer anthem. Straight artists can have gay fans, you know.
But the film doesn’t make the kid relevant to any of those storylines. He could have been worked into the first, but wasn’t. It was like a standalone narrative, with footage from a narrow set of days. I was at both those L.A. shows. The energy was so different from night 1 to 2. And in retrospect it’s clear Louis was performing the first night so Charlie could get the right shots. More like a choreographed play than a rock concert. It makes sense now why the Clarks weren’t in the VIP box with Freddie — couldn’t have them cluttering the frame or distracting the actors. Just, everything about the Freddie scenes is heavy-handed. Make a sign for your dad! Draw his logo in the sand! Fly a kite at sunset! He’s the spitting image of Louis! (Len does all the heavy lifting.) And all the maneuvering it had to take to get all those shots from the L.A. show?! In the VIP box from behind (and from the front, and when he just happens to be mouthing along to Two Of Us), side stage watching Louis end the show, on-stage watching Louis approach Freddie after the show, on-stage catching the moment Louis gives the lad a shout-out ... Charlie had a shot list. But sure, nothing was set up, it was totally organic.
I’m still unsettled by how heavily Charlie laid it on at the first premiere press conference — *he* was the one to bring up the kid, and was weirdly emphatic that nothing was staged, nothing was forced. It had the same energy of the “It’s. Not. Real” thrown baby doll moment, only it’s Charlie insisting that It. Is. Real. Thou dost protest too much, me thinks.
And of course, the lack of interaction between Louis and Harry remains, as ever, the biggest tell. We get poignant post-1D Nouis and Lilo moments in the film, but no Larry. We’re spoon-fed these Very Emotional Moments between father and son (“love you,” “Darling,” mouth kisses), when the real story, the real emotion, the real connection is in just a few seconds of furtive glances between Harry and Louis in the backstage footage of the last 1D performance. Christ, the way Harry’s eyes bore into Louis — chin tilted down, eyes glancing up from beneath a furrowed brow, lips tight, disguising his attentiveness with a hair flip ... they mastered so many forms of silent communication. The quiet call and response, the depths of love and care and concern and protection contained in micro-expressions. Fuck, give me 90 minutes of that. Just a silent film of Louis and Harry looking at each other.
Anyway. Sorry this sounds so grumpy. I did really love most of the movie. But I haven’t made sense of why this film was made. I don’t know its purpose. Maybe the introspection forced by the pandemic lockdown is to credit for this glut of music docs (“docs”) lately. Maybe nine minutes frees him up for nine more months or nine more years. I dunno. He obviously wanted this story told in this way.
Seeing a movie requires the willing suspension of disbelief. You have to ignore critical thinking in order to enjoy the story you’re being told. You tune out your knowledge that everything is fake for the sake of being entertained. We know that Superman can’t actually fly, but we still buy tickets to the cinema. But, a documentary shouldn’t require us to employ this semi-conscious perceiving mode. Yet here we are. I’m just not sure how much more or how much longer we can suspend our disbelief to enjoy fandom.
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ranspuppy · 1 month
Note
Hi I’m not sure if can I request for Pup’s V-Day event: Gojo, geto, nanami and choso spoiling their s/o on Valentine’s Day?
Gn reader, no warnings, but still. Minors and ageless blogs gtfo
Pup’s v-day event💙
A/N: sorry, love. I didn't do choso in this one cause i ran out of ideas and didn't want to sound like a broken record.. if I do think of something then I'll make a separate post with him.
Banners/dividers: @/cafekitsune
wc: 479
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Geto Suguru
He was always so sweet and kind to you. Despite his attitude towards others, he treasured you and held you close to his heart. He saw himself having a future by your side for the rest of your lives. You pulled him out of the deep despair he once had been in. After your amazing night together with him spoiling you, taking you to the place where you had your first date. Now, you find yourself near tears as Suguru was now kneeling on one knee, in a crisp black suit and hair in his signature half up/half down style. “Y/N, I’ve loved you since the day we met, and would love to continue the rest of my life with you. You’re the only one for me. Would you do me the honor of becoming mine for the rest of our lives?” he looked up at you with a hopeful glance. You nodded eagerly, chanting “yes!” a million times over. This was the best valentine’s day you could’ve ever asked for. 
Gojo Satoru
“Satoru! Where are you taking me?” you questioned your eccentric boyfriend as he led you down the hall with his hands covering your eyes. “Stop asking questions woman, it’s a surprise…” Satoru huffed and continued to lead you down the hall until you spoke up. “You suck at surprises, Toru.” you answered back to which he responded under his breath with how much of a brat you were. He uncovered your eyes and you were met with a scene of a home movie theater. He had set up a little projection screen, and had all your favorite snacks, stuffed animals, and movies piled on top of a blanket. You looked around squealing about how cute it was as he spoke about you saying he was bad at surprises
Nanami Kento
Nanami would spoil you by having a set schedule marked and planned. The businessman took the weekend off of work just for you. Even though you told him not to. “It’s my company, my love. I can do whatever I please. And I choose to spend my weekend with the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on." Kento smiled, his rare smile. You returned his smile with a kiss to his lips. “So, you took the weekend off. What are the plans, Ken?”  you asked him in a soft, wispy tone. “Go pack your bag, my love. We’re going on a trip." That was all he said, he didn’t even tell you where you were going so you packed some necessities and nice clothes. When you got to your destination, you were standing on the sandy beaches of Malaysia. Rose petals leading down to a picnic set on the shore of the beach. Somewhere nanami always wanted to go and wanted to get away from the hectic life you two lived.
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©PRETTYBRAAT do NOT under any circumstances modify or translate, or copy my works on to ANY platform.
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snarkythewoecrow · 7 months
Text
is my will weak? am I posting another out-of-context snippet from my ever growing mpreg!Buck fic? yeah, I can't help it. I love this one and it's gonna be a long haul to the finish line (probably closer to 100k than 50k) and I just need all the cheering and excitement I can get, and it's gonna be such a ride, the hurt/comfort and angst, the emotional whiplash, the softness, and the enemy to lovers!
Anyway, this snippet is of Bobby and Athena just being the best, and I adore them both
“Is it safe to assume you brought him home with you?” Bobby asked, holding his coffee to the side so he could lean in and kiss his wife.
It might be late, but in his line of work, coffee became an all occasion and any time of day beverage.
Her lips quirked upward against his as she hummed. “Like you needed to ask.”
Of course, he didn’t. It was in her nature—family and pack were paramount in Athena’s life, as they should be, and when it came to Buck, there was no questioning his place with them.
He chuckled, pecked her lips again, then went to sit with his coffee on the chair beside her. “So?” he asked, taking a sip. “How is he?”
“You mean more like, is he, right?” She raised a brow, then sighed at his shrug. “Well, I think you already know, but yeah, he’s with pup.”
And then it was his turn to sigh, resting the mug on his knee. He’d spent the rest of the shift replaying the last few weeks, shocked by the emotions it stirred. The ache and guilt at what it could mean, and now knowing, his inner demons warred against his heart.
It was a strange thing to feel happiness for something but also such sadness, as he might be getting his first grandchild, but it was a reminder of another thing he'd never get to experience with his first pups, those he’d lost in the fire.
He turned his head, watching her for a moment, taking in her beauty and just being grateful for what he did have.
A familiar look, brow lifting came over her face. “What’s got you all heart-eyed, not that I mind?”
He shrugged, then smiled. “Hadn’t expected this, but I don’t know, I think you’d make grandma-hood look pretty sexy.”
“Grandma-hood?” she laughed, shaking her head, then fixing a look in his direction. “Don’t you think you’re jumping the gun? I haven’t even told you if he’s keeping it.”
Actually, he didn’t need her to—it was there in her eyes—but he played along. “That’s true, so, let me ask, is he?”
Another sigh, then an even softer smile. “He is—he’s scared half to death about failing—but then, weren’t we all like that the first time around?”
“Oh yeah, terrified, actually.” He sipped his coffee. “And the alpha? I mean, I’ve been thinking it over, and morning sickness is one thing, but I’m already a little worried about him developing issues from not having him around.”
And at the mention of the alpha, Athena’s jaw tightened, then a sharp scoff cut the air. “Alpha, more like some fucking piece of shit knothead,” she hissed, looking ready to show her canines. A shadow had settled over her face. “We talked on the way over here, and he told me some things he’d left out before—like that—that—scum had just yanked free, Bobby! He didn’t even care if he hurt him—just ripped free and fucking bolted.”
She took a controlled breath. “I’ll tell you one thing, he’d better not show his face near me, because I’m liable to tear him limb from limb—don’t think I won’t.”
Bobby put up his free hand in a show of surrender. “Hey, if I’ve learned anything, it’s not to mess with a pissed off mama when it comes to her pup. You’ll get no arguments from me.”
Athena nodded. “Good,” and then she smiled a bit, looking at him. “He is our pup, isn’t he? One of my babies?”
“Pretty sure you claimed him within the first day,” he bit back a smile.
“Yeah, I suppose I did—and now he’s giving us our first grandbaby. When did we get old?”
Shaking his head, he finished the last of his coffee, setting the cup on the table, then stood, wiggling his finger in invitation. “Come on, grandma—let’s take this to the bedroom. I have a feeling we’ll need the sleep.”
Standing, she bumped her shoulder into his side. “Sleep, huh? What—you worried I’m gonna break a hip?”
He kissed her temple, a little laugh escaping as he wrapped an arm around her waist. “Well… you’re the one that said we’re getting old.”
She slapped his chest playfully before pulling him toward their room. “We’ll see about that, Grandpa.”
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look-at-the-soul · 1 year
Text
Black velvet
Tommy Shelby x Eva (OC)
So I came across a black velvet cake recipe and immediately made me think of Eva Smith, @evita-shelby OC, I know I’m a couple of days late to your celebration (sorry! My pup got sick and I couldn’t find the inspiration, but now that she’s better, I managed to finish it the way I wanted). Congratulations on your 500 followers and belated birthday Juli!!! 🎉
A little heads up in this story, words in italics are in Spanish, I used my vida, mi amor, corazón, (my life, my love, heart) in that same order.
🔮Now another important term you will find is toloache, a plant used in natural medicine in Mexico (I’m not sure if it’s used too in other countries in Latin America, it has healing properties, but is used in witchcraft too to ‘make someone fall madly in love with you’, but it can cause death too. So I used that as inspiration, eeekkk! I hope you like this!
When you finish reading, keep scrolling, there’s a bonus in the end 😉
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“Good morning Frances!” Eva cheered taking the last step and rushing to the door, her hair bouncing from her quick pace. “I’ll be back later.”
“But where are you going Mrs. Shelby?”
“I just figured out the perfect dessert for Christmas dinner.” Eva smiled.
Frances fixed her eyes on the black nightie she was wearing.
“Don’t you prefer to wear something else to go outside, Mrs. Shelby?”
“Oh!” Eva ran a hand through her messy locks, looking down at her revealing night outfit.
But instead of walking upstairs again to get changed, she took the long coat Tommy left hanging in the rack the previous day a little bit long for her, but she didn’t care. “When will you call me Eva finally?”
“I don’t think Mr. Shelby would approve that.” The maid clasped her hands in front of her apron.
“Could you please get me flour and eggs?” Eva slipped on the shoes she left by the small closet. “Don’t worry Frances, Tommy would never dare to tell me no.” Eva gave the maid a look that sent shivers down her spine right before disappearing out in that cold morning.
Not a long moment after that, Tommy appeared looking for his coat. “Frances have you seen Mrs. Shelby?”
“She left a moment ago, Mr. Shelby. Said I could choose the menu for the Christmas dinner, but she was going to bake the dessert.”
Tommy shuddered. “I’m sure you will think of something.” And with that he took his briefcase and peak cap to leave Arrow House, leaving Frances deadly worried about the Christmas menu.
***
Whisking all the dry ingredients, Eva then mixed in another bowl the butter, milk, eggs and vanilla, after a few minutes, she finally added it to the first bowl.
Cleaning her hands in her apron, she poured then the black coffee, she then added a pinch of salt, that way the flavor of the dark chocolate would stand out.
Looking over her shoulder, she found Frances looking at her in silence, her hand stopped right in the front pocket of her apron with her secret ingredient.
“Is alright Frances, I won’t burn your kitchen.” Eva joked earning a half smile from the maid.
“Can I help you Mrs. Shelby?”
But Eva shook her head, she didn’t want anyone to touch a single thing. “I got it, this cake is special for my husband.”
“I see, well I will be at the drawing room wrapping the presents Ma’am.”
Making sure the maid was out of her sight, Eva finally stared at her secret ingredient.
A knowing smile appeared on her lips as she thought of her husband.
Just add a pinch to your love’s drink or food, and you will have him wrapped around your finger eternally. But you have to be careful darling, in excess… it can cause death. Her grandmother’s words echoed in her head. No, she would never hurt Tommy.
As the night arrived, Frances walked to the front door to hold it open for Mr. Shelby, her usual welcome to take his coat and briefcase.
But that night, Eva ushered the maid and informed her she would take it from there.
“Mi amor.” She welcomed him with open arms and a seductive smile that the gangster couldn’t resist. “I’ve something for you.” Eva whispered after brushing her lips against his.
Tired, Tommy rubbed his face with his free hand. He felt so stressed after reading Grace’s letter, she wanted to see him, wanted to explain him things… But he let Eva guide his steps to the dining room.
“I made a cake for you, all by myself mi vida.”
She knew about the letters Grace sent her husband, she burned the first five before he found them. She wouldn’t let that spy take her husband away.
“A cake eh? That’s nice.”
Taking the knife, she pointed at the empty chair as Tommy was taking in the black cake.
“If you like it, I will make it for our Christmas dinner.”
“Black?”
Eva smiled, “oh! Don’t worry corazón, is just dark chocolate and coffee… and a secret ingredient.” She winked.
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Tommy’s eyes flashed with doubt for a brief moment, but when Eva took a small bite with the fork and offered him, the sweet smell of buttercream filled his nostrils.
One bite and it was enough for him.
His head snapped towards his wife and Eva saw the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head.
In a matter of seconds he was almost moaning at the amazing taste, demanding another bite.
“This is the best fucking dessert I’ve had.” Tommy confessed right after he kicked the chair back to stand up.
His hands where on her waist in seconds, his mouth in hers demanding.
“I love it!” He managed to admit between kisses.
Eva smiled, pleased.
The toloache worked, after all.
He suddenly turned into a puppy following her every move.
“I think the cake will be a success, and all black looks so elegant.” Frances added from the doorframe.
“Have some cake Frances.” Tommy offered kissing his wife’s cheek, she was right next to him and he couldn’t have enough of her.
As Frances managed to walk a couple of steps to try the cake, Eva snapped.
“No!” A heavy silence fell between them, Frances looked down. “I mean, no.” Eva corrected softly this time, looking down at her husband, he was cutting another slice, with the fork in his free hand, ready to take it.
Then, looking back at the maid, she whispered: “Unless you want to fall in love with me too.”
***
Master list
Recipe inspiration:
Tag list: @lyarr24 @datewithgianni @runnning-outof-time @gretelshelby @cloudofdisney @lespendy @zablife @gypsy-girl-08 @cillmequick @onlydeadcells @esposadomd @stevie75 @strayrockette @the-forest-witchh @elenavampire21 @peakyscillian @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @forgottenpeakywriter @babaohhhriley @ange-thoughts @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @rangerelik
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thewingedbaron · 7 months
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The Crumbling Tower
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Ever so tiny spoliers for Act 1.
The gang inflitrates the Goblin Camp in search of the Druid Halsin.
“Tav, far be it for me to question your methods, but are you sure this is going to work?” 
Tav flashed Gale a smile over her shoulder. She could barely contain the skip to her step as she lead them toward the first checkpoint just outside the goblin camp. Despite her lack of sleep, her mind buzzed, riding the high of last night like a wave coming to crash into the shore. Tav felt, in short, invincible. Though her companions looked a bit less sure. 
“This will work, trust me.” Tav replied, accelerating her pace slightly. The goblin camp lay just beyond the outpost. They could have a cure by day’s end. No more tadpoles, no more whispered thoughts on the edge of her mind that she tried desperately to ignore. Tav could simply melt into the forests, return to her normal life. A pang of sadness that Tav didn’t quite understand accompanied the thought. 
“Just to get this straight, your plan is to march directly into the goblin camp?” Gale asked again, his voice somewhere between disbelief and queasy. “And why exactly did you ask me along for this?” 
“Because I need your spell casting abilities incase things go sideways. And that is the plan, unless you have a better one.” 
“So, so many.” Shadowheart muttered just loud enough to be heard. Tav could practically feel the half-elf’s roll at the back of her head. 
“Just put on your mean face and I’m sure the goblins won’t dare to get in our way.” Tav shot back with a smirk. 
“Smartass.” 
“That’s the one, hold it just like that.” Tav replied with a wink, pleased by the rush of red that overtook Shadowheart’s cheeks. 
“Why don’t we just cut our way in?” Wyll asked, eyeing the crumbling tower on the other end of the bridge. “There are only a few goblins here. We cut them down as we pass and move on to the camp.” 
“Because if we fail to cut them down before they sound that war drum, we’ll have the entire camp coming down on our heads.” Tav nodded toward the massive drum mounted on one of the cliff faces facing into the outpost. The tower itself hosted a small gate from which the goblins watched their approach. Two small cliff sides acted as a funnel into the gate, forming a shallow “V” with the outpost at its base. An athletic adventurer could scale the cliff face, should they choose to, but not without alerting the goblins of the outpost. And, should the goblins somehow miss the intruder, one of the guards kept a rather large warg pup at his side. They were as good as any hunting dog at catching new scents and alerting its companions to them. 
Stealth, while not impossible, was not ideal with a group the size of theirs. Tav would make it, as she had the day before, and she suspected Shadowheart could as well. Gale and Wyll, however, were not exactly the quietest lot. So, she had come up with a new plan. One that, she admitted, seemed more half baked than not as she stepped onto the rickety old bridge and crossed to the goblin’s side. 
“Oi, stop there!” A squat goblin with a furrowed brow raised a clawed hand to the travelers, his warg pup nipping at his heels. “And just where do you think you’re going with those heavily loaded pockets?” The goblin grinned, revealing a row of sharpened teeth. 
Tav made a show of sighing heavily before crossing her arms with a pained look of annoyance. 
“I have business with the drow, Minthara.” She snapped, “let us pass, unless you’d like to explain to her why we were delayed.” Minthara was a name she had gathered during her scouting the day before. Best that Tav had gathered, the drow was commanding the goblin force, and orchestrating their attack on the grove. The few goblins that spoke of her did so in hushed tones with a sort of holy reverence with a healthy dose of fear. 
“Oh, well in that case, allow me to roll out my finest niceties!” The goblin barked with a mocking bow. “I’ve never seen you before. Why the piss should I let you in?” 
Tav could feel her companions shift behind her back. She could hear Wyll’s breath as he began to mutter the opening lines of a spell. Tav shifted, stepping in front of her warlock companion to block whatever incantation was on his lips. With a flick of her wrist, she produced a heavy, green amulet embossed with an oakleaf flecked with gold. A druid’s amulet. 
“I have pressing information on the druid grove.” She lied. “Unless you would impede both Minthara, and a True Soul of the Absolute, I would suggest you step aside.” 
True Soul? Her mind thundered. Where in the Hells had that come from? 
The tadpole behind her eye squirmed painfully. It took all her strength to stop herself flinching. Stay out of my head. 
Before her, the goblin turned pale. “Y-yes ma’am. I apologize for me rudeness. Just doing me job.” The goblin nodded several times, quickly hopping out of the party’s path. “Enjoy the festivities, True Soul.” 
Tav snorted, illusion maintained as she led her slightly confused companions past the outpost. Then, a new idea sprung to mind. 
“Hold a moment.” Tav said, turning back to the goblin. “Your warg looks quite young. Are there more in camp? I hear they make excellent traveling companions.” 
The goblin grinned, some of his confidence coming back. “There is, indeed, True Soul. A new litter, naught but a month old. Take a look in the warg pits in camp. I hear they’re going to blood the new young ones good and strong on a druid bear. A sight I am sure you will enjoy.” 
“Perhaps I shall.” Tav replied, nose upturned. “Return to your duties.” 
Tav lead the group away, maintaining a stiff pace until the goblin outpost disappeared behind the cliff side. As soon as she was sure it was safe, she sighed, releasing a breath she had not realized she was holding. 
“How in the Hells did that work?” Wyll demanded, glancing back at the outpost behind them. 
“Quite impressive. I didn’t know you had the steel in you.” Shadowheart chimed, eyebrow cocked. “Though I agree with Wyll, it would have been safer to have just killed them.” 
“Time enough for that yet.” Tav replied. “We still have to get Halsin out.” 
“Aye, and we need to eliminate whomever is at the head of these goblins before they can bring more dead to the people of the Sword Coast.” Wyll agreed. 
“You understand that will bring us face to face with a drow?” Gale’s eyes widened. 
“That’s a problem for the future.” Tav’s fingers played across the knife on her belt. What would it take to kill a drow warrior? She wondered. She shook her head, banishing the thought. “Let’s focus on making it to the camp first, and getting our healer out. Then we can worry about the goblins and the drow.” 
“A moment.” Wyll paused, eyes fixed on Tav. “Where did you get the amulet? You didn’t…” 
“Nothing quite so graphic.” A small smile touched Tav’s lips. “I borrowed it from Kagha’s chambers. I’m sure she won’t be missing it.” 
Tav glanced at her companions. Despite their nervousness, a small chuckle passed between them as she slipped the amulet back into her belt pouch. 
“Alright everyone, let’s go party with some goblins.”
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kazumie · 2 years
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[ 13:40 ] miya atsumu
a mini something for my beloved @miyasann because i like the idea of cheesy tsumu ♥︎♥︎
it takes half an hour after the trip to the pet parlor to realize that the pink collar with a small onigiri chain around your dog’s neck wasn’t yours or your dog’s—on the collar the name max was neatly embroidered along with their owner’s phone number.
(oh, if only you had a dollar for every time you meet a dog with that name...)
it takes another ten minutes to argue with your anxiety and a minute of staring at your dog to finally come to a decision. “i should probably contact them.” you whip out your phone and even had your thumbs do a little dance over your screen before you finally sent out a text asking if the owner wanted to meet up at the cafe near the parlor to get his collar back.
the reply comes in under thirty seconds.
𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎
𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞
𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 :𝙳
call it wishful thinking, but a part of you wishes this owner was cute. a cute stranger cute enough to make you fantasize a whole romance and life with them that will obviously never happen in under ten seconds the moment you see them.
please, it wouldn’t hurt to wish for a moment to give your life some spice and excitement to fuel you for the next few days.
( you sit there praying the owner wasn’t a creep. )
“i’m so sorry!” a blonde man comes over with a shiba inu—still in its puppy stage—pinned to his side and under his arm. “you’re the one with the collar right?”
it was almost comical to look at him but a romantic fantasy with this conveniently attractive stranger does indeed invade your mind.
“yes!” you scramble for the collar in your bag. abort mission! you prayed and wished too hard! the guy in front of you was too cute! “here.”
with his dog at his side—he envelopes his large hands around yours, giving you a gratifying shake. “thank you again! really!”
you watch him quickly fasten the collar around his dog and leash him, to which max responds by excitedly gnawing at his wrist and when his owner stands up to face you, the pup lies on its belly and proceeds to pull at the hem of his jeans.
( never will you admit to ogling this stranger’s hands a little too disrespectfully. )
“you have no idea how hard it was to carry him around. ah, right!” he holds a hand out for you to shake. “miya atsumu.”
“y/n.” you reciprocate his curt introduction. “i was planning to leave the collar at the parlor just in case you didn’t answer.”
( god, was it possible to feel any smaller next to this guy? )
“well, i’m glad i did.” atsumu sports a smile—one too giddy for his own good. “so... this is your number, right?”
“yeah.”
“would you mind if we meet up again soon? i’ve got something right now but i want to thank you properly.” he checks his phone and looks back up at you.
you almost choke on your spit. you really did wish too hard and here you are... trying not to come off too excited. “all i did was return a collar, it’s no big deal.”
“to you.” he gently tugs at his dog’s leash, reluctantly moving away from you to answer a call. “but i hope you change your mind and say yes!” he picks his pup in his arm and jogs away with his phone pressed to his ear—disappearing from your view.
a breathless what the fuck leaves you and your dog nipping at you brings you back to reality—and the reality is the chances of crossing paths with him are low.
but not zero.
you hear from him again much later in the afternoon when your phone rings for a moment—notifying you of a text.
it was from atsumu’s number.
𝚢/𝚗
𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚝 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?
𝚖𝚒𝚢𝚊 𝚊𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚞
𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 :)
the bubble appears and disappears.
𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚖𝚎
𝙳𝙾𝙽’𝚃
𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚂𝙽’𝚃 𝙼𝙴
𝚆𝙰𝙸𝚃 𝚈𝙴𝙰𝙷 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙲𝙰𝙽 𝙱𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙺 𝙼𝙴 𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝚃 🥲
you raise your head to stare at your dog, waiting for an epiphany to make a decision—after another thumb dance over your screen, you text him you’re free friday afternoon. ( you almost eat your phone out of dread waiting for a reply. )
the soft chime of a received text message pulls you back.
𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝 👍
𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 :)
with your cheeks all warm, you could only wish for friday to come faster.
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starlitangels · 2 years
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Birthday Cake
Pups AU won the little poll I posted. Here you go! I’ve been wanting to write this one for days because it was adorable in my head 1.8k words
David carefully extracted the cake pan from the cupboard, trying not to make any noise. His mate and kids were all asleep upstairs and Gabriel was a light sleeper.
It was also his birthday. He was turning seven.
Which still boggled David just a little. He and his mate had been together for over ten years. Time was flying by. Sometimes it felt like they’d just started dating a few months ago. Other times he barely remembered his life before he met them.
And now they had two children.
David wanted to get Gabriel’s cake out of the oven and cooled off before he had to go to work so he could put the frosting on and stick it in the fridge for dessert tonight.
“Daddy?” The voice was tiny, tired, and familiar.
David whirled to see Natalie standing at the entrance to the kitchen, her little rose-patterned blanket clutched in one hand, and the tiny wolf plushie she’d been handed down from Gabriel in the other. Her purple, smiley-faced-star-patterned pajamas were rumpled. Her eyes were half-closed and she rubbed one of them with the hand holding Sheldon—the name she’d given the plushie. Her hair fell past her shoulders and was an absolute mess. At five-years-old, she usually was rambunctious. But her tired squint showed she didn’t have that kind of energy at the moment.
“Hey, baby girl,” David greeted. “What are you doing up this early?”
Natalie shrugged. “Just woke up,” she said. “Heard noises. Came downstairs. What are you doing?”
“I’m making a cake for your brother’s birthday today.”
“It’s Gabe’s birthday?” Natty’s voice was groggy and she didn’t seem to notice how her dad flinched when she called her brother Gabe, rubbing her eye.
“Yep. It’s May Ninth, Natty. He’s turning seven.”
“Cool. Are we having a birthday party?”
“Not tonight. We’ll have our family over on the weekend. Then we’ll have one for his friends later.”
Natalie nodded, yawning. “Want help with the cake?”
David crouched so he was at his daughter’s eye level. “I need some supervision. To make sure I do it right. Think you can do that? Can you watch me make the cake?”
Natty nodded, holding her arms about. David scooped her up and set her down on the barstool at the kitchen island.
He went back to preparing for the cake.
“Tell me what you’re doing?” Natalie asked.
David smiled. “Well, right now I’m getting out all the ingredients to make the cake,” he said. “Then I measure them out to what the recipe calls for, and start putting them together.”
Natalie watched with fascination—albeit around half-hooded eyes still drooping from sleep—as he did what he said, measuring out ingredients for the cake. She was snuggled up with her little blanket and small plushie on the counter in front of her, chin resting on stacked arms.
“Can I try mixing it?” she asked as David began to mix with a large plastic spoon. He glanced up with a small smile.
“Sure.” He left the bowl and spoon on the counter and picked Natalie up, perching her on his hip. He held out the spoon handle for her. “Hold it with both hands. I’ll hold the bowl.”
She gripped it in both of her small little pudgy hands. David kept one arm around her to make sure she stayed on his hip and didn’t fling herself to one side or the other, gripping the bowl with his other hand. Natalie stuck her tongue between her lips in concentration, narrowing her already-narrowed sleepy eyes as she focused.
Her stirring was haphazard at best, but a smile had started to form around her poking-out tongue. She had the same eye color as his mate, and his hair. Both she and Gabriel had his stick-straight, brown hair.
She looked up at him with a sparkle in her eyes. “I did it!”
David kissed her forehead. “Yes, you did. Good job, Natty.” He held a hand out for the spoon. “Mind if I finish?”
She handed it back to him. He set her back on the barstool with Sheldon and her blanket. She took them back into her hands and resumed her half-asleep slump over the island counter.
David continued to mix the ingredients together, still trying to be quiet.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, baby girl?” David twisted to look at her.
“Will you teach me how to make a cake one day when I’m grown up?”
Oh Natalie, I never want you to grow up, David thought. “If you want to learn, I’ll teach you.”
Natalie nodded tiredly. She yawned wide. “That sounds like fun. I like it when you teach me stuff.” Her head slumped to one side, eyes fully closed, but she wasn’t asleep. “You’re busy a lot. But you’re fun when you’re home,” she mumbled sleepily.
David smiled at her, even though her eyes were closed. “I’ll try and be home more often, Natty.”
She smiled. “Yaaay,” she said with a little giggle, twirling Sheldon through the air.
David chuckled. “Hey, sweetie, how about I take you back to bed?”
She shook her head. “I wanna stay and watch you make Gabe’s cake.”
“You’re not watching if your eyes are closed,” David pointed out.
“My eyes are open,” she said, even though they most definitely were not.
David smiled wide. She sounded just like his mate. She often did. Sometimes she’d say something or make a face that reminded him so much of his angel that he had to freeze for a moment and remember just how much she was both of theirs. Gabriel had inherited David’s more reserved nature—Natalie had not. She was rowdy, playful, loud, and goofy. She laughed freely and smiled wide. David still saw elements of himself in her—but for the most part, he saw more of himself in his son.
“You’re right,” David said.
“Mmhmm.” She nodded against her arm, eyes still closed. “‘M totally awake,” she said.
Within minutes, she was snoring softly. Occasionally cooing. David finished the cake mix and poured it in the pan, placing it in the oven to bake before scooping Natalie up and carrying her up to her room. He tucked her back into bed and kissed her hairline. “I love you, Natalie.”
“Love you, Daddy,” she whispered before going right back to sleep.
David smiled fondly, smoothed her hair away from her face, and slipped out of her room to go back down to the kitchen.
Ten Years Later...
Natalie swore under her breath. Multiple times. “I swear this cake was easier last year,” she hissed, scraping at the sides of the bowl with the silicone scraper—not a spatula, as her dad was always firm in informing her.
Of course, last year she’d been making it with a stand mixer—and after school when she was awake properly. Rather than by hand at four in the morning. Her dad had also been helping her last year.
She grunted and folded the batter again, jaw clenched against its density fighting against her.
Something in the house creaked. Natalie froze and waited, listening for footsteps. Had she woken Gabriel? Or worse—her dad?
Nothing. Silence.
Her eyes drifted back to the bowl, passing the calendar on the fridge. Her parents notated birthdays in purple marker—just a name on the date. The purple name on today’s date was simple, in her dad’s handwriting. David. She smiled and went back to mixing.
She got into a mixing groove and had a fairly smooth mixture after a few minutes.
Once it wasn’t lumpy anymore, she poured it into the pan, and stuck it in the oven.
She sat at the counter island, tapping her foot, while she waited for it to bake. She’d muted her phone so it wouldn’t wake the whole house when the timer went off, and started to dink around on Minecraft on her console for a few minutes—trying to find a good block palette for the large base she and her other parent had been planning together.
Her phone vibrated in the pocket of her fleece pajama pants—hand-me-downs from Gabriel and way too long and too big. Just the way she liked them. Most of her hand-me-downs came from Lily and Evelyn, but not pajamas. She had several of her dad’s old T-shirts that hung off of her like limp bags and she loved every single one.
She turned off the timer and rushed to the oven, grabbing the oven mitt and pulling the cake out. It smelled really good.
Now all she could do was hope her house of wolves didn’t smell it, wake up, and come investigate.
She waved a thin cutting board—that was really more of a plastic sheet—over it in an attempt to get it to cool faster. She was well aware that it wasn’t effective at all, but she needed something to do in order to not just go insane sitting around doing nothing while the cake cooled.
Don’t wake up, don’t wake up, don’t wake up, she thought frantically, casting anxious glances over her shoulder toward the staircase. Please just let me get this done before anyone wakes up.
David rubbed his eyes as he crossed into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, grabbed the jug of milk—
And froze.
There was a cake sitting in the fridge. Covered in plastic wrap with toothpicks stuck in it to keep the wrap from ruining the frosting.
Perched in front of it was a folded index card.
Happy Birthday, Dad! ~Love, Natty
He looked around for his daughter, but she was nowhere to be found. Her door had been open—which usually meant she was awake or not in her room—when he’d woken up, but he thought she’d just been getting ready for school downstairs.
She didn’t seem to be anywhere.
He lifted his phone and sent her a text.
Thanks for the cake, baby girl. Where are you?
He went back to getting some breakfast assembled.
He was in the middle of his cereal when his daughter’s reply came through.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!  Micah and Sam came and got me for school. We had an SAT prep class this morning. I love you, Dad. Hope you have a good birthday! I’ll see you after school!
David glanced at the calendar. Natalie-SAT 7AM was written in blue just under David’s name. He sighed.
“Sweet baby girl,” he said softly to himself.
Gabriel blinked in surprise. “Natty, this cake is delicious,” he said. “You made this by yourself?”
Natalie nodded. “Yeah. At four-AM.” Her eyes flicked to me for approval. I nodded in agreement with her brother.
“It’s really good, kiddo,” I said. 
“You should be proud of yourself,” Davey put in.
She smiled. “Thanks Dad. I just... I wanted you to have a birthday cake that you didn’t have to make yourself.”
Davey ruffled her hair. “You’re sweet, Natalie.”
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andydrysdalerogers · 1 year
Text
Sideline Love ~ Chapter 9 ~ Her Worst Mistake
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Pairings - NFL! Chris Evans and OFC Rebecca Rooney
Series Summary: All football player Chris wants is to play football with his best friends in the NFL. But the night before he meets someone who could change his life... if she wasn't the bosses daughter. Can Chris change her mind with a little sideline love?
Word Count: 2.7K
General Warnings: smut! angst, cheating, parental interference, fluff, football Chris has beard ( 😏 ), injuries during the game, special appearance (don't @ me lol)
Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Becca Rooney and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.
I am trying out a taglist. Please let me know if you would like to be included.
(I'm also really sorry for this chapter)
Series Masterlist ~ Main Masterlist
Ice Cream
It could be considered the perfect food.
At least in Charlie’s eyes.
Ice cream makes everything better.  Losses are better, wins are better, life is just better when there is ice cream involved.
And Chris knows this.
So, the after the game sundaes were born.  The day after a game, win or lose, away or at home, Chris took Charlie for ice cream.  Becca was allowed to tag along, most of the time.  But this was the Chris and Charlie time and who was Becca to interfere with that.
“Chris, what is the best ice cream?”
“Only one?”
“Yep.”
“Ok, let me think.”  Chris pretended to ponder the question.  “Cookies and Crème.”
Charlie lit up with a smile. “Really?”
“Yeah, why?”
“That’s my favorite too because it has Oreos in it.”
“That’s why I love it too.”
Yes, the bond between Chris and Charlie was unbreakable.  Becca and Chris started to spend more time together, Chris mostly coming to Becca’s to make it easier on her. Dodger had his own bed in her house, right at the foot of Charlie’s.  The pup was protecting of the little blonde, following her everywhere, out to the bus stop that took her and waiting for her every afternoon in the same stop when she got back.  Chris and Becca had a routine.  Chris would come over after practice, watch Charlie for Becca until she was home from the stadium.  He would start dinner; she would clean up and get Charlie ready for bed.  Their domestic life was bliss.
It didn’t stop the few close calls. Like when Rick and Avery stopped by unannounced.  It was lucky that Sebastian and Lizzy had been there for dinner.  It looks very innocent. At least till Chris “went home” for the evening and came back half hour later.
“Jesus that was close,” he said as he pinned Becca to the door of her bedroom.
“And you wanted to start this earlier, remember?” She worked on getting his belt off.
“I can’t help it Angel. This dress does things to me.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“But my favorite look is when it’s on the floor.”  He peeled her emerald-green shirt dress over her head, leaving her in her nude lingerie set.  “Oh fuck me.”
“That is the plan,” Becca smirked.
Chris growled. “Don’t be a tease, Angel.” He lifted her up and tossed her into the bed. He pulled his shirt off and Becca drooled, seeing his tattoos were one of her weaknesses and he knew it. He started to kiss the inside of her thighs, listening to her whine. “You are gonna wake Charlie.”
“She can sleep through a game, she’ll sleep through this,” Becca gasp as Chris meets the apex of her thighs.
“Good to know.” He thrusted his tongue in her hard, and she squealed. 
“Chris, baby, please stop.”
“Nope, not gonna happen Angel.  I need you.”
He took her, a few times, to heaven and back that night. It had been the most intense night of their lives.
The universe has a funny way of making everything great… before fucking it up.
*~**~*
Rebecca arrived at Robert’s office.  He had asked her to come by as Tom had asked for a settlement agreement.  She was hopeful.  She didn’t want Tom to have joint custody, but she was ok with a strict visitation schedule.  As she was escorted to the conference room, she received a message.
C: Don’t give into him Angel.  He’s the bad guy here
B: I know love. I wish you were here.
C: Me too.  But after I will take my girls for pizza.
B: Sounds good.
Becca put her phone away as she made it to the room.  She saw Tom’s smug face and tried not to scoff.  The man had the most punch-able face on record.  She understood where Chris was coming from that his team didn’t like him. “I’m here, what is it?”
“I want to negotiate visitation.” Tom crossed his arms as if he already won.
“Finally, something mature from your mouth.” Becca sat next to Robert.  “What do you want?”
“I want Charlotte to come two weekends a month to Boston and for three weeks in the summer.”
“Not going to happen.  She doesn’t know you. You’re a stranger to her. You can come once a month to Pittsburgh for supervised visits until she gets to know you and then we can talk about more time.”
“Can I have the room with Rebecca please?” Tom looked at his own lawyer and then at Robert.  Robert looked at Becca, who nodded.  Tom leaned back in his chair, taking in Becca, waiting for the room to clear.  No longer the innocent 18-year-old from five years ago, now a business woman, she was beautiful.  “You know Becca, you have to be more beautiful than when we met.”
“According to you, we never met.”
“Rebecca, c’mon I thought we were past this.”
“You are past it. I didn’t want you to step away from your family.  I just wanted you to acknowledge the daughter that you had.  Now you want to take her away from me.”
“I don’t want too, Becca.  I want to share.  She is half of me.”
“She is none of you.  You didn’t want her. You didn’t want me. Tom, tell me what you really want.”
“I want us to be a family.  Have you help me raise my sons as well.”
“No.  Never going to happen.”
“Because you are in love with Evans?”
“What?”
Tom pulled out an envelope and removed sheets of paper. “I can show you what I mean.”  He handed the papers to her.
Tears formed in Becca’s eyes. “What do you want me to do?”
“Leave him.  Leave him and come back to me.  Not right away of course but yeah.  You do that, I won’t release these.  Your father has made it perfectly clear: no football players.  Leave him and I won’t release these photos. You leave and you won’t ruin his career. Because I know that’s what you’re thinking. Can’t ruin mine but his, his is still up in the air. Think about it.  You can keep these, I have copies.”
“This has nothing to do with custody.”
“Oh I know. But since I couldn’t figure out a way to see you without raising suspicion, this was my only way.  I’ll see you in court about custody.  But I have a feeling that somehow, that’s still going to go my way.  Have a nice day Rebecca.”  He got up and put his sunglasses on, smiled at her and left.
Becca sat in the room stunned.  Robert came back in.  “Hey?”
“Hi.”
“Becca, what happened?”
Becca handed the photos over.  They were of Chris and her in New Orleans. Kissing, holding hands, embracing.  Their most intimate moment, where they had declared their love was on display. “He threatened to release them.”
“Becca…”
“I need to talk to Chris.  We didn’t settle on custody.”  Becca got up and left the room. She drove home, trying to keep her emotions in. While she had no intention of being with Tom ever again, she couldn’t ruin Chris’s career. The love she had for him was too much for him to lose his dream. She saw the blue Mustang in the driveway and groaned. She had to face this head on.
Walking in, she saw a heartbreaking site: Chris asleep on the couch with Charlie on his chest.  She took a photo and went into to get cleaned up.  She wiped the stray tear that fell before she went back out.  She picked up Charlie and took her to her room to sleep.  When she went back out, Chris was sitting up, looking confused, hair sticking up.  He smiled when he saw her.  “Hey Angel. Just get in?”
“Yeah, meeting ran long. You guys eat?”
“Chinese.  Saved some for you.”
“Thanks.”  Becca went into the kitchen, stalling.  Chris could see the tension in her shoulders.
“Angel, what wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Becca, you are tense, and you look like you’ve been crying.  What’s wrong? Did something happen at the meeting?”
Becca took a breath. “Tom didn’t want to negotiate custody or visitation.” She went to her bag.  “There are photos, Chris.  Of you and me, when we were in New Orleans.”
“What?” She handed him the photos. “He followed us?”
“I think it was a PI but yeah. Umm…” she could feel the tears coming.  “He said that if we didn’t break up that he would release the photos.”
“That fucking tool.” Chris was seething. How dare this asshole try and ruin his relationship with Becca. “Ok, well I mean if it happens, it happens.”
“Chris,” she whispered.  “I can’t let that happen.” She looked towards the floor.  “I think its best if we separate.”
“What?”
“I love you and I’m sorry but I can’t let you ruin your career over my mistakes.”
“You don’t mean that Angel. You and Charlie mean more to me than football.”
“I’m sorry. But I can’t ruin your dream.”
Chris put his hands around her face, cupping that.  “Please don’t leave me. I love you. I won’t stop loving you. Please.” He kissed her soft and she let the tears flow.
“I have too, Chris. I’m so sorry,” she cried. “I love you. I love you so much that this is killing me.”
Chris held Becca as they cried. “Let me stay Angel.  Just one more night. Please.”
She looked up at him and pulled him down for a kiss. He reaches down and grasped under her ass to lift her and took her to her bedroom. He laid her down gently, kissing all of the skin he could at the moment, savoring this last time. They were slow, taking their time to get each article of clothing off. There was no teasing, just pleasure, enjoying each touch, each kiss. Chris brought Becca to the brink so many times, she lost count.  She cried as she reaches her peak the last time with Chris closely following.  She fell asleep in his arms, her favorite place in the whole world.
Becca wakes in the morning on Chris’s chest.  She traces his tattoos, knowing that this is the last time. “I don’t want to go,” he whispers.
“I know.” They get up and Chris grabs his stuff. Dodger had stayed at his house so that at least was lucky. Chris grabs his bag.  Its still early, the sun barely rising in Pittsburgh. Becca doesn’t bother stopping the tears.
“You know I love you.  I’m just…”
“Just protecting me.  I know Angel. I wish you didn’t.” He puts his bag down by the door. “I have to ask. Please don’t take Charlie away from me.   Please let me see her.  I don’t want to be another man that disappoints her.  I need you both but if you won’t let me have you then at least let me be there for Charlie.”
The man of her dreams.  That’s what he is.  While she was breaking his heart, he refused to break Charlie’s. “Ok Chris, sure.  I’ll have Liz or Scarlet take her to you, ok?”
“I’ll win you back Angel. I’ll find a way.” He pulled her in for one last kiss.  “I love you.”
“I love you.”
And just like that, Chris Evans walked out of her life.
And she knew, this was her worst mistake.
*~**~*
There are certain rivalries in sports that are legendary.  Lakers verses Celtics. Yankees verses Red Sox. Cowboys verses Giants. And then there is the Steelers and the Patriots. Because when both teams have the same number of championships, the tension is at another level.
This is football at its finest.
Chris should be excited.  He should be nervous. He should be ready.
Chris is none of those things.
He’s heartbroken.
Sitting in the visiting locker room at Gillette Stadium, he looks at the picture of Becca and Charlie he still has in his bag.  It was from their first visit to his house.  He had seen Charlie a couple of times, but Becca made sure not to be around. He kissed her picture and put it back in his bag.  Since the team had no idea they were together, they had no reason to suspect why Chris was down.
The game ran like any other game: physical and intense.  But Chris’s heart wasn’t into it.  He called plays and ran them but was not focused.  He was sacked a record six times in the first half.  Coach Ben was on him, yelling at him to get his head in the game.
Heading into the second half, the Steelers were up by two touchdowns.  A miracle considering how bad Chris was playing.  Becca watched from the owner’s box, understanding that this was her fault.  She was just happy that Charlie was at home with her mother.  The Steelers offence took to the field as her father came to speak to her.  “Do you know what is going on with Evans?”
“No clue.” She never looked away from him.
Chris called the play, and the ball was hiked to him.  He drops back, looking for his open man.  He doesn’t see it when the defense breaks through the line.  Chris is tackled into the ground hard.
Becca stand up and sees that he doesn’t move.  “Oh my God.”  She and Rick turn to run down to the field.
Medical is called and the players are standing around him, Sebastian trying to wake him.  “Chris, c’mon man, open your eyes.”  The medics place a brace around his neck and get him on the board.  A jolt wakes Chris.
“Sebastian?”
“Oh, thank fuck.” Sebastian lowers his head.
“What happened?”
The team doctors look into his eyes.  “Chris, can you move your fingers?”  He wiggles them.  “Ok, try your feet.”  He moves them as well.  “That’s good Chris.  We’re going to take you to the medical center.”  They lift him by the back board, and he waves his hand, getting a cheer from the crowd.
At Boston Memorial, he goes through scans and x-rays.  The doctors come out to talk to Ben, Rick and Becca.  “He has a concussion. Its mild and he’ll be sore but per protocol, he’s not allowed to play until he passes the concussion protocol test.  He’s very lucky.”
“Can we see him?” Ben asked.
“Sure.  Does he have family?”
“His family is coming.  We sent a car to get them from the stadium,” Becca replies.
“Good.  If you would like to see him, he’s in room 2174.”
Ben and Rick go into the room with Becca sitting outside waiting for his family.  His mother Lisa and his brother Scott arrive, and Becca gives them the rundown.  “He has a concussion. Luckily no other injuries just bruises.  He’ll be sore for a few days. Doctors say he’ll make a full recovery.  The league has been notified and he’s in concussion protocol.”
“Thank heavens,” Lisa says as Scott hugs her.  Ben and Rick exit and they go in.  Becca just sits.
“Becca are you coming with us?” Ben asks.
“Uh, no.  I’m going to wait for the Evans family to make sure they don’t need anything, and I’ll fly separately. How did the team do?”
“They lost in overtime.” Ben looks to the floor.
Rick could see the emotions flowing on Becca’s face.  “Sweetheart, if you need help with anything…”
“Just check on Charlie, ok?  I know she watched the game and I know she’s crushed that he got hurt so just take care of her.  I’ll make the arrangements here and if they allow him to go home, I’ll take care of it as well.  This is my job Dad, not me being anything else.”
Rick nodded.  He hugged his daughter and left with Ben.  Becca sat again and drew her knees to her chest.  When Scott came out, he saw her and sat next to her. “You’re the one, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“He still loves you.”
“I know. This is my fault.”
“No, its not.”
“Yes, it is.  I broke him and look what happened.”
“So unbreak him.”
“I can’t.” She wipes away the tears from her face.
“Why not?”
“Because it would take away his dream.”
Scott puts his arm around Becca. “I think his dream changed Becca.  His dream is you now.” She looked at him.  “All he talks about is you. Not football.”
“I don’t know what to do Scott.”
“Let love win.”
A few hours later, Becca sneaks into Chris’s room.  He looks at him peacefully asleep and she takes his hand. She kisses his forehead softly and whispers. “I promise Chris, I’ll fix this.  Don’t give up on me. Everything is going to be ok.”
Taglist:
@patzammit
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anchanted-one · 1 year
Text
Legend of Lightning Chapter 50. Turning the Trap Around
https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/112553413
eeeeeee! Chapter 50, everyone! I am so pleased to be here. Still a long way to go, but a milestone is a milestone.
To anyone who has read any of my work, thank you so much. 
@swtorhub
Thul Palace
Gustab Williton paced the halls outside Baron Thul’s apartments. He was deeply uneasy about what had just transpired. The Baron was a powerful man, and more than capable of enacting revenge on him someday. He contemplated leaving a request with the great Darth’s secretary for a transfer once he had brought him his prize, claiming they wanted a better assignment. There were other Sith here, after all, Sith who could join the Thul war effort. Perhaps Lady Kairadwen, who had caused quite a stir among his peers during her all-too-brief visit, might be persuaded to return.
He had spent every free second at the gates, hoping to catch her as she passed by… only to be disappointed.
Still, he didn’t want her on a world that he was leaving! Perhaps his next assignment could be… wherever hers was! Perhaps he could request an assignment to Darth Baras’ operation.
Yes, that was a splendid idea. There were many other Sith who could take over.
Eklarie pulled him into a side room and leered at him. “Decicred for your thoughts, my little pup.”
“I want this done with,” he partially admitted his real thoughts. “I don’t like being part of a great Darth’s schemes. They use you, then they toss you.”
“Wise words, my dollie,” she raised her scarred face to his. He returned her kiss passionately. He loved Eklarie. She was not the most beautiful Sith in the galaxy, but she was far more loyal, as both partner and lover. Dependable, though she was normally taciturn. He wanted to marry her as soon as he could, to start accruing power and status so they could found a House together.
“It’s not just Angral,” he said reluctantly. “Baron Thul is a dangerous man. For Sith like us, at least.”
“I know,” she sighed. “I’ve been thinking of the same thing.” Her face soured. “We’re shite excuse for Sith, aren’t we?”
“We’re not aiming to be Darths, after all. We just want to be retainers.”
“Thinking about Lady Rooks, again? You should give it up. Half the Academy was foaming at the mouth after she duelled Darth Malgus on Ziost. She has more requests than even them Darths, I’d wager. It’s easier to get in good with some of the lesser Sith. I heard Darth Zash might be building up her power base.”
“Zash…” Gustab thought about that idea for a long moment. “What about the other major Houses?”
“Major Houses? Us? We’re bottom feeders here, pup! Even most Thuls don’t respect us!”
“All the more reason to run.”
“Want me to put in the request?”
“Yes, please!” Gustab felt relieved. It was really good to have her do the paperwork. He was far too slow with such things. He thought about Lady Elana, languishing in the shuttle’s belly. He knew she was in for a rough life, if the Baron didn’t come through. He felt a bit sorry for her, but what could you do? Angral was not someone you went up against. Not if you were one of them Darths on the Council.
“There, that’s done!” Eklarie said happily.
“Already?”
She winked, mischief making her face a match for any Dromund Kaas idol. “I had most of this ready before we even took off.”
“You, my muffin, are a real treasure,” he said happily, and she gave a growl of a laugh in response.
“Take me now, puppy. Remind me of that first time we made love together, in Overseer Harkun’s bed!”
He moved to comply, tugging off her cloak and pauldrons… when they were interrupted by a servant.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Dark Lords. Baron Thul has returned.”
“Already? That was bloody fast!”
“Guess that Jedi really is a softie!”
Eklarie hurriedly straightened her robes as they half-ran to the baron’s personal landing pad.
They waited with bated breath as the ramp opened, and out marched the wolf himself, leading the disgusting-looking alien.
“Would you look at that, muffin? It’s mewling like a lost calf!”
“Yes,” Eklarie shook with suppressed laughter. “Filthy alien.” She marched up to the thing and spat in its face. The baron slapped her so hard, she fell to the floor.
“He is my prisoner for the time being,” he said sternly. “You remember how I treat my prisoners, don’t you? If you want to show him any disrespect, do so after we’ve made the transfer.”
Eklarie stood up and saluted lamely. “Yes, Baron, sir!”
“Where is Elana?”
“She is inside the shuttle, Your Highness,” Gustab replied.
“Is it in your authority to release her, now that we have the prisoner?”
“No, sir. We have to wait until Angral’s satisfied.”
A vein throbbed in the man’s temple. He looked like he desperately wanted to argue, but didn’t. Gustab almost breathed a sigh of relief. He did not want to oppose the man again, anytime soon.
“Let’s get on with this, then,” the baron grumbled. “Are we to be taken to Darth Angral’s ship?”
“I don’t know, Your Highness. His shuttle, his men.”
“Fine. Let us board, then. But at least allow Elana to travel with me, rather than in the brig.”
“I—I’ll see what we can do, Your Highness.”
As it happened, securing her semi-release was a simple enough thing. There was nothing they could do, now that they were en route. The duke comforted her with assurances of safety, but Gustab wondered why he would do something so reckless as give a false promise like this. He had zero control over what was to come.
The Jedi was locked inside the cell, shooting dangerous glances at his captors, who all jeered and mocked him.
They were Sith, of course. Of higher standing than Gustab, but not by much. Underlings and minions of the great Darth. He recognized FimmRess, who had long served as Duke Kendoh’s bodyguard.
“Just look at that Jedi, boys!” he roared. “Shaking in its boots!”
“Like a little bantha cub!”
“Not much of a threat, is it?”
“If it’s scared now, just wait until Angral gets his mitts on it!”
At the mention of Angral’s name, it was as if a mask slipped off the Jedi’s face for a moment. There was no fear there, only a contempt deeper than the spice mines of Kessel. But Gustab blinked, and it was gone. For a brief moment, he had a bad feeling—then he heard a girl’s voice whisper into his ear “You will forget what you just saw.”
“I… will… forget…”
*
Somewhere on Alderaan
“What’s the meaning of this?” Jharkus demanded. “We’re not even leaving Alderaan?”
“I thought you’d be happy,” the pilot drawled. “You don’t have to meet Angral in person. Of course we’re not rendezvousing with his ship! We’re meeting up with Lord Nefarid! He will send you on our way.”
“Nefarid?” Jharkus rolled the name in his head in disgust. “The man who killed Duke Horis.”
“The same,” one of the Sith entering the cockpit grinned. “You Thuls and your petty ambitions mean nothing to us, if you don’t give us Alderaan. And he was willing to call off the war entirely. But you’re different, aren’t you? A real warrior! Cooperate, and you won’t face the same fate as him.”
No doubt it was meant to cow Jharkus, but all it did was strengthen his resentment.
He wondered what would happen now. If he and the boy were separated… This would all be for naught. Well, his Family would certainly be saved if Vajra was safely handed over, but there would be no retribution of any kind.
Lost in his thoughts, Jharkus only realized they’d landed when the pilot turned and grinned. “End of the line. For some of you, at least. But how many?”
Jharkus gave him a frosty stare until he flinched. “You think you’re clever and intimidating, but you’re not. To be truly strong, you need to be able to threaten people under your own banner. Stop trying to borrow your Master’s notoriety.”
*
Lord Nefarid waited with eager anticipation for his guests to arrive. He swirled the cherries in his cocktail, humming the happiest tune to himself. It had only been a few days ago, when he captured that meddlesome Jedi Master. To think he now had the Padawan too… oh, happy day!
“Orgus Din thoroughly managed to spoil my fun by destroying those antennae,” he railed, repeating the same line for the third time this week, just in case his Master’s spies were listening. “The gall! What right does he have to spoil my fun? Isn’t that right, Alayna dear?” He sniffed in annoyance. “Hmm. And I thought you were poor company before I freed you.”
The flayed corpse of his minion stared back mutely, unable to answer. It simply floated in the case he’d stuck it inside, which arrested her putrefaction.
“I will be made Darth for this, you mark my words! Angral will thank me for being the only one of his Apprentices capable of dealing with the thorn in his side!” He turned towards the door as they yawned, and in walked the Sith minions whose names he hadn’t bothered to memorize. In their midst was the Jedi himself, as hideous as he was weak. His own lackeys looked up from their work to see the procession.
Behind him was the man known as the Wolf Baron, and he exuded anger in every breath he took. Good. The Sith in him approved of that anger. It could be used when focused. The man had spine and ability, by all accounts, but he was too caught up in meaningless tripe like honor.
“Ah, welcome, Jedi! I was just telling Alayna how happy I was to have you as my guest.”
The Jedi looked at the body next to Nefarid’s throne and sighed. “You’re not a very imaginative Sith, are you? I bet you do this to try and appear mighty and dangerous. An inherited trait, no doubt.”
Nefarid chuckled. “Oh, I wasn’t trying to intimidate you. I just happen to like this woman. She made the most exquisite faces as I killed her. The horror, the pain, the sense of hope as I promised her a second chance!” Nefarid’s laughter boomed throughout the lair.
“Right, you’re just as sick a thug as Sadic,” the alien shook its head. “Where’s Angral? Or is he too scared to show up?”
The Sith around him reared in outrage, but Nefarid waved them back. “What does it matter? We have you. I have orders to hand you over to him once I’ve thoroughly tortured you into submission. My Lord does not like exerting his strength to quash every little bug.”
“If I’m a bug, what is Tarnis? And what are Sadic and Praven, whom I beat so easily? Come, come, Nefarid. You know, don’t you? Angral is past his glory years. That is why you seek to replace him, someday. In fact—” the Jedi straightened up. “Angral isn’t staying away because of just me, is he? He doesn’t want to be near this world so long as the Death Mark is here too. He knows you can kill him, if you happen to have it operational.”
Nefarid was now staring at the boy. “I think it’s better to deliver you to my Master in pieces. Cut off his hands and legs!”
The boy sprang into motion, though he wasn’t the only one. The Wolf Baron threw one of the Sith over his shoulder and pulled his blaster from his belt. One of the Sith attempted to stab the alien, but it evaded him and broke her arms. As she fell to the ground screaming, the boy ignited her Lightsaber and attacked his captors. All eight of them.
Nefarid was alarmed by his skill. That level of swordsmanship was far beyond his capabilities! It was good that he had his trump card.
His hands went for his belt—only to find the device missing. What? I could have sworn that—
Using the Death Mark would be confirmation that he had gotten it working again, and had indeed been hoping to kill Darth Angral with it when he turned over Orgus Din. But there was no secret that couldn’t be kept by killing all witnesses!
“Where is it? Where is it?” he feverishly hurled aside all the tools and books on his desk searching for the targeting device, but couldn’t find it. “I could have sworn…” He quickly looked over at all the places he could think of, where he might have left it, only to be disappointed. Of all the rotten luck!
He looked up to find his own guards had joined the fracas, but it was going badly. The Jedi’s blur of a blade had already killed more than half his opposition, and the baron’s blaster had shot down all of the regulars. With only three guards left fighting, Nefarid had to make a decision.
“Confound it all!” He moved to cloak himself. He still had that, at least! And he had tricked even the great Master Orgus with it—
His scream filled his ears. Right after he had blended in with his surroundings, a small, focused beam of red light had shone down on his foot, leaving a hole about the size of his thumb. “IMPOSSIBLE!” As he cursed and stumbled, he thought he heard a girl giggle.
*
Jharkus was nonplussed by the Sith Nefarid’s loud scream of pain. What could have happened? His inattention would have normally gotten him killed, but the Jedi was fighting the last of his enemies, one of Nefarid’s dogs, whom he had never seen before.
There was a pile of bodies around them, dead Sith who had thought they had a wounded vorn tiger cub, when instead they were looking at bait. They had dropped their pride easily enough. That one called FimmRess had soiled himself when he realized he was outmatched, but had been killed before he could surrender.
“What happened?” Baron Thul asked his temporary ally, who grinned.
“Come out, Kira.”
The baron jumped as a redheaded girl materialized out of thin air, holding some small device in her hand. “I was certain you could dodge that, boss. But I didn’t want to take that wager.”
“I owe you one. You made the right call,” the alien told her, before turning back to Jharkus. “I had expected you to demand my surrender in exchange for the prisoners. I wanted an ace up my sleeve in case Angral asked you to turn me over to him.”
“You’re no fool, I see.”
“Hardly, Angral is just that predictable.” He snorted. “Now. Is that fool of a Sith awake?”
The woman called Kira slapped the man’s face lightly, then shook him hard until he woke. He groaned, trying to cradle his foot, which Jharkus now saw had a huge smoking hole in it.
“Where is your Master?” the boy asked.
“I don’t know,” Nefarid whimpered. “I was supposed to call him when you’d been beaten into submission. He would have sent another shuttle for you—”
“How typical,” the Jedi groaned. “Can you at least tell me how to reach him? A message, perhaps?”
The Sith squealed like a stuck-up brat getting his first taste of consequences.
“Wait, it doesn’t matter,” the boy shook his head. “The message I have, is one I want the entire galaxy to hear.” He walked up to the man’s holoterminal and hit transmit.
“What is the meaning of this, ‘Darth’ Angral?” He asked the camera, stressing on the title as though it was the punchline a poor joke. “I was handed to you on a silver platter, but you were too scared to show up and collect me! I thought you wanted revenge for your son? Is this all your rage is worth? Some might call you cautious, but I am starting to see what my Master meant when he called you a coward. You’re so afraid of dying, you won’t even face a teenager! All you can do is act tough in the depths of the cesspit you call your stronghold. You know, don’t you? That if you face me in combat, you will be beaten so badly, all your legends and myths will be replaced by mocking tales of Darth Angral the pitiful. You want to prove me wrong? Come to Alderaan and face me. Show the galaxy how a Darth marches to his death… but what am I saying?” He laughed scornfully. “You’d never do something that reckless! Because you’re a weakling, and a coward, too scared to crawl past the event that left you traumatized all those years ago. So, by all means! Continue to hide in your own trash. I will rip you screaming and weeping from your presumed fortress, and show the galaxy the caliber of man you’re not. Farewell, false Darth.”
With that, he destroyed the terminal. The woman clucked her tongue. “You don’t think that was a bit much, boss? We both know he’s a coward, but he’s also a slave to his own emotions. He’s gonna try and hurt you by striking at soft targets.”
“I didn’t think of that,” the boy looked a bit sheepish. “I just want this to be done!”
“A word of advice, Jedi,” Jharkus said. “Take it from a Thul; we spent decades before we finally got our chance. Just because a confrontation, or any event, seems inevitable or destined, doesn’t mean it won’t take a lifetime to come to fruition. Don’t try to rush things just because you’re eager to make it end. The Great War is another example; your Grand Master fought Malgus again and again, but it only ever led to fat nothings. You might think yourself Angral’s nemesis—or any big Sith’s—but that doesn’t mean your clash will arrive just because you wound their pride.”
The Jedi heard all he had to say, then nodded with a heartfelt sigh. “I know, I know. I’m not that stupid. But I am hoping that Angral is. Or that he’s blinded by my provocation.”
“If only it were that simple.”
Elana stirred. “Uncle… did you seriously have all this planned? How? When?”
Jharkus made a gesture telling her to slow down. “As much as I love to take credit for this, it was all the Jedi’s idea. I was too shaken to properly make the threat, and he noticed it. He took pity on me, on us, and offered to help me rescue you. I suppose there is no shortage of good men in the galaxy.”
“Getting to Nefarid was a bonus,” the boy smiled. “Not as big as finally stopping Angral, but I’m happy this last weapon is back in our hands. Kira, can you blow it up?”
The woman nodded. “Easily. The satellite comes with a remote self-destruct, just in case. The Death Mark laser is about to become scrap.”
“Target the equipment first,” the Jedi ordered. “Not a single byte of data must be recoverable after we’re done.”
“Got it.”
“We’ll be taking Nefarid, if it’s okay with you,” the boy said. “And destroying this compound.”
“You won’t catch me arguing. I’ll take the shuttle back to Thul palace, and order your civilians’ immediate release. I’ll also hand the duke’s body back to the Organas. I’ll go personally.”
Elana shivered, tears appearing in her eyes. “The poor, poor duke! He tried to help me.” She looked at the Jedi. “When Angral looked at me, he stood in between us, as if hoping that could make him forget about me. He offered to take my place as hostage. What kind of galaxy do we live in, when that kind of man is killed so miserably, when wretches like Angral are left untouched?”
The Jedi gave her a long, sorry look. “I’m sorry for your anguish,” he said. “I’m sorry for all the innocents and the good who are dying in this war. It’s why I want to ki—to stop Angral as soon as I can. I know that the longer this goes on, the more people die at his grubby hands.”
Elana sniffed, wiping her eyes. “I don’t blame you. You are barely more than a child, and you are still—” She wiped her face, then gave him a look filled with fire and determination. “I’m done with the Sith. It may take me a lifetime, but I swear I will extricate myself and my family from their mad Magocracy.”
“I wish you well in that endeavour.”
As Jharkus led Elana out, he began speaking to her. “That was a bold declaration, child. It will take time to build up the strength needed to bear it. I hope you survive those years.”
“I hope you will teach me, Uncle.”
“I’m afraid I can’t, child. Duke Organa was my responsibility. I must answer for his death, and his body’s desecration.”
She looked at him with eyes full of distress, but he talked over her.
“Don’t give me that look; if I don’t do this, any lesson I give you is worthless. Remember who I am. Not the Wolf, but the Baron.”
“Honor, fidelity, integrity,” she looked on the edge of tears again.
“That’s right. How can I pretend to be any of that, if I don’t give myself up to the Organas?” he shook hhis head. “No. I must do this.”
Elana held back her tears, she simply nodded. She gave him a fierce smile. “I should have expected no less, my dearest Uncle.”
“When I saw your potential, I knew you deserved to be my heir. I hoped I’d have time to teach you all I knew. Alas, I only had a few days. But I do think you received a crash course. Not just from me, but Duke Charle as well. Remember him, and remember me. His compassion, his courage, my honor, my integrity. Those are what it takes to be a great ruler.”
“I will try, Uncle. And I swear, that when I am done, House Thul will no longer be beholden to those pigs in the Empire!”
“Good. Take it one step at a time until you’re good and ready. But when you are, do not hesitate. I have faith, that you will emerge triumphant.”
*
Aboard the Oppressor
Darth Angral, the second-greatest Sith of the era, breathed so heavily that spittle flew from his snarling lips. Sweat poured down his furrowed brow, and his ignited Lightsaber trembled in his clenched fist.
Several of his trusted servants lay dead around him, including Admiral Hacklin.
The alien’s provocation had struck home, had left him eager to meet his enemy head-on. But his servants had gotten in his way, and he had cut them down in his fury.
Hacklin’s last words had been of disbelief. “In the end, this is all your friendship is worth, my Lord?” But Angral could not care.
“You… you got in my way! You…” He turned to his bridge. “Set course for Alderaan. Now!”
“We can’t, Dark Lord!” the helmsman whimpered. “Admiral Hacklin locked the controls before he died. We need to perform a full system reset, and that will take four weeks!” He was silenced by Angral’s Lightsaber entering his gut.
“GET US UNDERWAY!” He howled.
“You can kill them all, if it makes you happy,” the holo on his left said snidely. “But then you’ll be stuck here… forever. Even the Force can’t help you run a ship this size, by yourself. Not that it was ever your servant. Nepotism was all that got you where you are today. Besides, didn’t you hear your helmsman? Your ship is locked!”
“Shut your trap, Malgus!”
The Sith on the other end just laughed. “Touchy, touchy! Is that how you beg someone for help?”
“I am not begging!”
“You should be!” Malgus gloated. “The Jedi’s words were so accurate, he might have been trained to be a Black Requiem Sniper! You are weak, you are pathetic, and now the whole galaxy has heard it! Because you have lost the strongest pillars of your power base. Praven, Nefarid, Sadic. Because you fight from the most secure portion of the back lines. Because you are afraid of your own Apprentices. And because you allowed a fifteen-year-old to challenge you, and could not respond.”
“You’ve had your fun, Malgus. Ease off.” Darth Barras was ever a thorn in Angral’s backside, so he wasn’t calling off Malgus out of any goodwill. “You know that you can’t attack him directly, don’t you? You need to finish constructing the Desolator. That is the Emperor’s decree.”
“What do you have to gain from my victory, Baras?”
“Other than the annihilation of our enemies? Nothing. But it occurs to me, that if a Darth such as yourself fails while all eyes are upon you, it’s a blow to the authority of us all. Watch your back, Angral. Try not to die until you’ve served your limited purpose. Remember; the Emperor won’t stop you this time.”
“Good. Good. Every Jedi in the Galaxy will die. And that boy… his death will be slow, painful, and above all, satisfying.”
“More promises, as usual,” Malgus sighed. “You no longer have capable servants to throw at your problems. Do not forget that all of your victories in the war were because of me. I handed you Coruscant and Korriban. I broke through Alderaan and Balmorra. Now, you are all alone. You may be a coward and a blowhard, but try to learn some self-awareness, even this late in your life. You will not win by playing at being a true Sith. Finish your project, then attack from the cover of darkness. Try to shiver as you do it. That is your path to victory."
"Despite his taunts, that is actually sound advice, cowardly one,” Barras laughed heartily. “I suggest you get back to it. Oh, and don’t expect replacements for the officers you’ve just slain. The Empire is supposed to have washed its hands of you, remember? Do not call us again, until you have your prototype ready.”
Both holos disappeared, and Angral was left to continue his fuming. Around him, his hapless crew barely breathed as they waited for the shoe to fall. More than one pair of trousers had been drenched, but no one dared try to leave the bridge. All they could do, was hope their Lord calmed down. And soon.
“Perform that full reset,” Angral said hoarsely. “I will be in my chambers.” He turned on his heel and walked out. As one, his crew breathed a sigh of relief.
*
Organa Castle
Vajra called Major Var Suthra immediately after informing the Organas of what had transpired. He only had to wait a couple of minutes before he was put through.
“Well done, Master Jedi! With this, the last remaining project has been kept out of Angral’s hands!”
“Our info was wrong. He had the laser working the whole time. The only reason why you didn’t see mass murder and mayhem run loose on Alderaan, was because Nefarid had hoped to use it on Angral.”
“To think that Alayna Hark managed to get him enough information for him to replace that antenna so quickly…”
“Enemy espionage showed its skill every step of the way. I’ll repeat what I said before; invest in security before you go for weapons.”
“Given my failures, I have no choice but to take that to heart. This has been… a humbling experience.”
“What will you do now?”
“I will have to submit all of my files to an oversight committee and prepare to be judged. Thankfully, the task has been taken on by Supreme Commander Rans himself. He worries that a Senator might try to steal some of the information.”
“And leave us back in square one.”
“Exactly. I will be evaluated for having allowed so many, many security breaches, as well as the unethical projects like the Power Guard. If I’m lucky, I will be allowed to continue serving at my present rank. If I’m unlucky, I might be dishonorably discharged. Worst case scenario, I might face imprisonment.”
“I can advocate for you—”
“No need, Master Jedi. I will face the consequences of my actions and failures.”
“I see. Good luck to you then.”
“What about you? What’s next for the triumphant hero?”
“I have been asked to receive Duke Organa’s body and Baron Thul’s surrender, in my capacity as Paladin. I will also be leading the funeral proceedings tomorrow.”
“A real honor. One you most definitely deserve.”
“Thank you for saying so, Major.”
“One thing’s for sure; my part may be over, but yours is not. Not until you’ve stopped Angral himself. I will continue to follow your career with great interest. Var Suthra out.”
Kira stretched out like a cat once the transmission had ended, and sprawled onto the sofa. “Maaan, that feels great! I think I need to order myself something cool. Staying cloaked for that long was a little taxing.”
“You did splendidly, Kira. You saved my life, too. And gave Nefarid the shock of his life! Did you manage to record it?”
She pointed at her belt, which was hanging from a chair several meters away. “I’ll show you tomorrow.”
“The Master orders…”
“Screw you. Just this once, I’m pretending we’re not Master and Padawan. Are you gonna take that from me?"
"I guess not. Want me to massage your forehead?"
"My shoulders and feet, too. Thanks. You’re a good kid.”
*
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its-toasted · 2 years
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[4.24.22]
I was with Tsuni when she died. We’d had that dog since I was in the 4th grade and ma was waiting at the bus stop with a big head in her arms, but the night I mean was october or november 2019. Umma opened my door at like 9 when I was awakening, said she had to go to church because sunday. Pa was on the way from Delaware. She'd approached me slow and serious, which is an unusual combo for her, then she sat on my bed and said Tsuni is having problems. I wasn't sure what she meant until I saw her, like that she was just fighting to live. Ma had to leave, she leaned down in the foyer, cupped her head and nuzzled her then left. I stayed with Tsuni there for like 90 mins. Labored cadence, hunched back, jutted neck, droopy eyes. Eyes still so sharp but she was struggling, I just stroked her slow and light and tried to say sweet things.
.
In the last 30 mins she led me into the den. I didn't even get up like she got up. She rested on the quarry tiles there for a while, then she went to her bed in the corner, over ugly plum carpet. She laid down, breath fluttering worse. I just put her toys with her, took her paw in my palm. Then eventually she took a deep breath, and not another. Her eyes went so wide then relaxed, the light just left. Blood spilled from her mouth and the home seemed entirely silent. She was in the same form I'd seen so often, at rest. I just sat there in sadness a few hours until dad came home. I heard the garage door opening and the code being entered and I didn't know what to think, so fucking blank.
He walked in and I just started bawling so hard. The way he sighed and held her cheek like, fuck man. I hadn’t seen him cry since about the same age ma pulled up with her, once, when he told us how his family came from nothing since we were being little shits. But that expression was the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him in my life. My dad is a pretty classic American man of his era in most senses, I think you'd get that vibe if you catch him about anywhere. He didn’t have much to say but they were good things. But when umma came home and opened that door, saw her beloved stiffened on that bed. How she bowed her head and wept made me a good son for months.
If I could tell you what this dog meant to the family, how she arrived fucked up and traumatized, and how much peace and joy she gave us for any of the life that’s worth remembering from the old home. How sharp, and sensitive, and clever, and fucking bougie she was. She was such a fucking queen, and we loved her so much like she was my partner everyday. By the end I lived alone with her like half the time. I spoke to her, she got more real from me than my parents. We all had different personal ties, never talked about that too much. Anytime I write about her it’s a mess, a shade of this is in my drafts like a dozen times over. I don't even revisit the rants, idk why keep.
But this time I’ll have you know I plan to adopt soon. I sent in a few apps and plan to visit a couple days this week. I'm so stoked to look some young pup in the face and take care of them forever, I do really want that. Everything that makes it not worth it ain't shit compared to what I know it'll be. I do worry that I’m chasing Tsuni so much still since the new fam dog Tori is so perfect in her ways, and I still miss the greedy, quirky, loner ass bitch I grew up with. But I’m sure when I get a good pup in front of me, it’ll be new.
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flyingfishtailoutpost1 · 10 months
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Tagged by @samiholloway a million years ago. I just found this in my drafts. Sorry Sami! I got distracted
Five things you’ll find in my bag:
1. A ton of bandaids because I’m always nipping myself with my gardening clippers, weeding places I shouldn’t be weeding without gloves, or biting my nails
2. Bright orange reusable bag with Hello Kitty all over it
3. Lucky 2 dollar bill my grandfather gave me
4. So much ibuprophen
5. One of those little hair clips that’s also a multitool
Five things in my bedroom:
1. Usually at least one cat
2. A seven inch tall jointed anthropomorphic unicorn doll
3. Stripy rainbow afghan
4. A tambourine
5. Underpants
Five things I’ve always wanted to do in life:
1. Publish a children’s book
2. Go on a proper ghost hunt
3. Figure out how to get meatballs to come out like my grandmother’s
4. Live somewhere that has an autumn
5. Crochet
Five things that make me happy:
1. My husband and kids. I mean, I know, boring right? But there was a time that I was pretty sure I was absolutely doomed to die young, and now I have a family.
2. Grabbing my cats and smelling their furry heads
3. Digging around in thriftshops. Specifically when I find hilariously weird shit
4. Looking for cool rocks
5. When a monarch is all lazy and chill right after it comes out of the chrysalis and it sits on your hand like you’re a Disney princess
Five things I’m currently into:
1. Sandman. Woo boy did that take over my brain at the speed of light
2. Anything by T Kingfisher
3. Butterfly gardening. I mean, always butterfly gardening, that never changes
4. Trying and failing to learn Mandarin
5. Writing (again, thank god, finally, after years)
Five things on my to-do list:
1. Dig out banana plant pups before the banana tree patch gets out of control
2. Fertilize everything
3. Sew patches on half my pants because the pockets always pull at the corners
4. Actually sit down and watch the new d&d movie
5. Write
Five things people may not know about me:
1. Big spaces freak me out— like giant rooms with really high ceilings. Walking through Grand Central Station the first time nearly gave me a heart attack.
2. I can’t stand grape flavored things
3. I love coconut flavored things. Give me ALL the coconut things, please.
4. Im fascinated by horror movies but they do terrible things to my brain afterwards so I can’t watch them
5. Something in chocolate syrup makes me wicked sick and I don’t know what it is
Tagging @shironi-pepperoni , @xxsneepsnoppxx , @alleythegaycat , @cuchullame , and @dutifullygreattimemachine
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sammeth · 2 years
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forest animal au! G.E.
A/N: first of all, I’m thinking that this is more of a half animal/half human type thing. maybe 25/75 (75 being human) with the 25 being cute big floppy ears, tail, fangs, claws, mannerisms, whatever else you want :) second of all, I’ve said this before but I despise using name, y/n, your name, etc. so he’s gonna be referring to the reader as “fox” or “red” because they’re a red fox and he’s a loud-mouthed raccoon. I’m not very educated when it comes to foxes, but I’m gonna do my best with it lol. this is just for fun! :) if you have the wattpad extension, go ahead and change “fox” and “red” to a playful nickname or your name.
warnings: some language, insults, various forest animals, mostly just fluff
word count: 3.4k
🦇 spacer (balls) 🦇
Humming just as the wind picks up, Fox swishes their tail back and forth against the flowing air to really feel the cool fall breeze blow against their fur. There’s a smile on their face, they’re in a decent mood this morning. It’s a fine autumn day, the berry bush beside their den is still providing delicious red berries as if it were still spring. It usually starts shriveling up right at the edge of winter, around November or December. It’s only the middle of September, thank goodness. When November rolls around, Fox will have to resort to their second favorite food source: the lake across from Gray’s drey. Gray is an opossum friend, Fox has been meaning to check up on him, actually, he’s been awfully quiet lately. Ever since Lily moved down to the pond on the other side of the forest, Gray has kept to himself.
Continuing to pick berries, Fox sets them gently on the cloth inside of their basket. The red tint of the usually white cloth is because they constantly use the cloth to pick strawberries from their bush. In other words, it’s stained a light pink color because it’s very well-loved. Fox has been using the same little cloth since they moved to this side of the forest. They’ve lived here for almost a full year now. In human time, that’s the equivalent of about ten years. Fox is twenty moon cycles old (twenty years in human time!) and just now really starting their life. They’ve mostly settled down, but they have no mate and no real plans for the future. They like it this way. No rules, no responsibilities outside of taking care of their den, and they get to make their own schedule. They never really wanted pups, so it works out in the end. Pups are a big responsibility, that’s something that Fox doesn’t think they were destined to do. Instead, they’re much happier spending their days picking berries and having sweet conversations with their forest friends. This is a happy and fulfilling life.
Everything is going wonderfully (for the first hour, anyway), they’ve got enough strawberries to last them through the end of the week now. The morning sun is grazing beautifully against their soft fur. The feeling of the forest floor against the bare skin of their lower paws makes them dig their claws into the soil to try and feel it farther. They close their eyes, taking a deep breath in and holding it for a moment. They’re really enjoying how the morning is going so far. They couldn’t be happier here. In fact, they’re in such a good mood that they might just make today the day that they check on Gray. He really does need company. With Lily gone, Fox can’t imagine just how lonesome it’s getting inside of his drey. The absence of Lily is–
Gasping, Fox’s eyes shoot open as they feel the handle of their basket getting snatched from their paws. They look around furiously, trying to spot the cause of the sudden change in the situation. “Hey!” Their eyes land on a raccoon. Of course, it’s a raccoon! Sneaky little creep, they’re about to get what’s coming to them. Fox tears off their sweater and leaps into action, skittering over to the raccoon on all fours. It’s not uncommon for the raccoon population to steal from other animals, but never a fox. Raccoons are known for thievery, but stealing from a fox is a death wish. Foxes are known for their speed and agility. Sure, their stamina isn’t great, but that doesn’t matter to Fox. Fox will catch the raccoon long before they run out of stamina.
A raven glances down from its tree. Fox can make the shape of Robin the raven out of the corner of their eye. They gasp for air and attempt to tell her what’s going on. It comes out in a choked gasp, though.
“The raccoon!” Gasp, claw at the ground, dash for the raccoon. “Took my breakfast!” That’s all that they need to say.
“Rude!” Robin ducks down and dives for the little animal. She flaps her dark wings and Fox pounces on the chubby raccoon. Robin grips the basket once they’re down and pulls it up into the sky, hovering for a few seconds while Fox situates the animal below them. Robin then sets the basket down a few feet away and stands beside it, looking at the raccoon with an expectant expression.
Once Fox has caught their breath, they realize that they’ve got the raccoon pinned to the ground. They don’t back off in the slightest, they just take their paws down the animal’s figure and hold them to the ground by their arms and legs instead of their hips. Fox is hovering over them, an angry look on their face as they speak.
“And just what did you think you were doing?” They ask, their eyebrows furrowing together as they attempt to make angry eye contact with the animal underneath them. The raccoon hisses and looks away, fidgeting and squirming under the pressure of Fox’s claws. They’re afraid that Fox is going to cut them up or something worse as a punishment. Fox doesn’t plan on it just yet, though.
“What I do best!” Making eye contact for real now, Fox notices that the raccoon is a male. Again, not uncommon. Fox shouldn’t be surprised, honestly. A female raccoon would know better than to steal from a fox. A male, on the other hand, Fox would have questions about that.
“Stealing my breakfast?” They ask in a loud voice full of anger. They don’t usually get like this, but this raccoon has ruined their morning. Thanks to this little man, they’re not sure if they feel safe enough to go and visit Gray anymore. “You’ve ruined my day, raccoon,” they inform him, hissing the words through their clenched jaw and teeth. “How does that make you feel?” They ask, even though they know that he’s only going to reply with something sarcastic or mean. In Fox’s eyes, all raccoons are the same. They’re selfish and rude, and their living spaces are trashy.
“Peachy,” he replies, struggling to get out from under the other animal. “Now get offa’ me, little furball.” The hairs on the back of Fox’s neck stand up and they’re seeing all shades of red now. “Your kind are kitty-pets, bet you couldn’t make it one day on your own.” They’re absolutely pissed. They were going to let him go with a warning, but to insult Fox’s kind? That’s a whole different ballgame. Even Robin knows what’s coming. She backs up with the basket of berries back in her grasp. Robin’s only ever seen Fox explode once before.
“Oh, you trashy, selfish, unkept little beast!” They insult, eyes glowing dark red. “You take my meal, insult me, and then call my kind kitty-pets? We’re basically in the same family!” That’s not true, but it sounded good at the moment. Foxes are Canidae, raccoons are Procyonidae. They’re vaguely related, but they’re definitely not the same. On the plus side, Canidae is usually the stronger out of the two. Fox has the upper hand in this situation and the raccoon has to know that much. The fear sparking in his eyes makes it obvious that he’s got an idea by now.
“Get over it, Red,” he tells them, forcing his face close to theirs so their noses are touching. His ear twitches, a sign of weakness. Fox smirks in response. “Eat or be eaten.” He seems to be angry as well, but Fox can’t imagine why. He was the one in the wrong, shouldn’t he be apologizing? Fox’s smirk falls back to a frown and they’re suddenly growling again, clenching their teeth together and letting the rumbling in their throat grow in volume. The raccoon isn’t cowering yet, but that’s Fox’s main goal: to get him to give in and get out of their side of the forest.
“I’m going to give you a chance to apologize,” Fox tells him, after at least a full minute of contemplation. The raccoon gives a confused look but doesn’t interrupt their little speech. “Apologize to me for insulting my people and me,” they demand, not giving any kind of context. The raccoon assumes that if he does this, they’ll let him go, but he’s much too spiteful for that. His pride gets to him. Apologizing would show that he’s submitted to them and that the fox is in control of this situation. He can’t show that, that would be humiliating. So, naturally, he refuses.
“I’d rather de-claw myself with my own teeth,” he says through gritted teeth. Then, plain as day, he spits on them. He reels his head back a little and spits directly in their face, watching as the result lands on their cheek. It’s a painless gesture, but it’s seriously disrespectful, and Fox takes it as offensive. It’s also disgusting, of course. Who wants someone else’s saliva on their skin? Some of it’s gotten in their hair. They just washed their hair this morning, too!
Slowly, Fox rubs their cheek against the t-shirt sleeve on their shoulder. They don’t move their hands from their hold on his shoulders, so he’s still unable to move. He’s stopped squirming now, but he’s still staring up at them with an angered look. Fox reaches up and grips a handful of the boy’s fluffy brown curls, yanking him up to his lower paws. He yelps, but they don’t care. They turn to Robin with a gentle smile, something that’s very dangerous with just how angry they are at the moment. They sigh happily and make eye contact with the raven.
“Robin,” they greet her, which makes Robin stand up straight and nod in reply. “Would you mind flying ahead and dropping my basket off at my door?” They ask, noting that the raccoon has already eaten some of their strawberries. How did he manage to eat whilst running away from a fox? He didn’t even get that far, they’re only a few hundred yards away from Fox’s property. “I have some business to attend to,” and then they start walking in the direction of their den. They’re pulling the raccoon along with them, holding him down, and dragging him by the curls behind them. The tension is high, but neither of them speaks to each other as Robin nods and picks the basket up by the handle. She flies ahead of them, disappearing into the dark trees above.
“What are you doing?” He asks, instantly going back to squirming in their grasp. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Let me go, oversized hairball!” He shouts from beneath them. Fox says nothing in return, they just keep walking with him. At this point, they’re only a few hundred feet away from Fox’s den. If you looked closely, you would have been able to see the perfectly woven basket placed right at their doorstep. They’ll have to thank Robin for being so kind later. The raccoon’s actions might have harmed the basket’s exterior, but it is still usable. Fox will bandage it up later, or make the raccoon do it as punishment, and it’ll be good as new.
“You’re going to remember your decision for years to come, raccoon,” Fox tells him, making their way up their doorstep and opening the front door to their den. They pull him inside and close it behind them, locking it and closing the curtains in the main living area. They’ve left the berries outside, but they’ll be back for them later. Hopefully, no more stingy raccoons will attempt to steal from Fox today.
“Alright, alright! I’m sorry,” the boy tells them, but Fox just laughs at him and sits him down on a kitchen chair. They rummage through a drawer, one hand still gripping his hair, and pull out a simple rope.
“Too late, friend,” they tie the rope around his arm in a fashion that won’t hurt him or get too tight unless he tries to pull it off. The other end is soon tied to one of the pipes on Fox’s fireplace. If the raccoon plans on leaving, he’s taking some home appliances with him. The pipes aren’t going to fit outside of any of the doors or windows. In other words, the raccoon is stuck with the fox for a while.
“You can’t keep me here like…like some kind of animal!” Raccoon is angry, but his words only make Fox laugh at him some more. Fox has a good giggle before unlocking the door and opening it. They bring the berries inside and set them on the kitchen table. The raccoon is still seated at said table, he’s been told to stay put for now. The rope is long enough for him to move about the house, but it doesn’t reach any of the doors. He could climb out of one of the windows, but he wouldn’t get very far without the pipe coming off and getting stuck in whatever window he chooses. He sighs in defeat, he’s going to be here for a while, isn’t he?
“You amuse me, raccoon, what’s your name?” Fox begins dumping the strawberries into a strainer. They put the strainer into the sink and turn the water on, letting it sift through the berries and clean them of the dirt that they accumulated during the chase or before while they were on the bush. The raccoon doesn’t respond at first, which is fine with Fox. They’ve got all of the time in the world. The only thing that was on their agenda before this was talking to Gray and making dinner. Dinner consists of fish from the pond across from the opossum’s drey. They managed to catch three good fish the other day, and they’ve been preserving them in the icebox for tonight, specifically. If the raccoon participates, he may be invited to join Fox’s dinner. If he does not, he will be kicked out by the end of the night without being fed dinner. It’s entirely up to him, and he knows it. How he acts in the next couple of hours will largely impact his life. That part, he doesn’t know yet. That part, neither of them knows.
“Gareth,” the raccoon replies, finally. Fox had gotten so used to just calling him by his species that they almost forgot that he had a name too. Fox finishes cleaning the berries and puts them in the icebox for tomorrow morning. They doubt that the raccoon, Gareth, will make it to the morning. With how he’s treating them, he’s not going to be dining anytime soon.
“Pretty,” they say, sarcastically. “Fox,” they hold out their hand for him to shake, but he just stares at them. He looks down at their hand, admiring the clawed glory, and then back up into their eyes as if he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Shake,” Fox demands, rolling their eyes. “This is how you greet a friend,” they explain, crossing one arm over the other as Gareth hesitantly grabs their hand.
“Uh,” he swallows hard. “Nice name, I guess,” he shrugs his shoulders and looks at the ground. He’s just been referring to them with insults until now, they hope that the fall knocked some sense back into his brain, if he ever had any, to begin with. They doubt that the tumble in the grass did anything positive, unfortunately.
“Thank you,” Fox says sweetly, smiling down at him with a very gentle expression. He immediately looks confused, a dark pink blush covering his cheeks. Fox has never thought about it before, but maybe there’s a reason that raccoons are the way that they are. Does this raccoon not know what kindness is? He’s probably never been taught anything positive, which is why they brought him down here in the first place. They plan on fixing him up, making him nicer and less cruel. Maybe he won’t attempt to steal any more berries from unsuspecting foxes like Fox. “What were you thinking, stealing food from a red fox?” They ask, raising an eyebrow in his direction. He tenses up at the question but goes to answer it after only a moment of silence between them.
“That I was hungry,” he shrugs, looking back down at the floor without another word. It was more of a mumble, his response. He looks embarrassed, and Fox suddenly realizes something.
“Did your den mother never teach you how to hunt?” They inquire, sitting across the table from the boy in front of them. They’re genuinely interested in his response, but he takes offense to the question. He thinks that they’re trying to make fun of him or something similar.
“Yes, she did!” He gets defensive but quickly calms himself down. He knows that he’s not going to make any progress by yelling at Fox, so he tries a different approach to the situation. “No, not really,” he sighs, the response coming out breathy and soft. “She tried to, I guess, but she was busy all the time.” He doesn’t turn to face them again, he just continues staring at the floor with a puzzled expression.
It takes Fox a long time to respond to this. They’re processing, and processing, and processing some more. So, a washed-up raccoon landed in their den somehow, and now they’re trying to fix him. They’re evaluating their options and trying to figure out the best way to approach the situation, but they can’t seem to find anything that’s not going to end in disaster. They can’t make any appropriate jokes in the situation, and they can’t go back on anything they’ve done to him. That would be a sign of weakness, they can’t have that. So, they act like this was the plan from the beginning. They’re pretty good at that, actually.
“I’m gonna give you a task,” they tell him, smiling seriously. Their expression is smug but somehow caring. They’re trying to keep the same vibes in the room, the ones that say that the raccoon is in trouble and Fox is in charge.
“A task?” He asks, raising his eyebrows in confusion.
“A task,” Fox agrees, nodding their head in agreement. They bite at their bottom lip before looking back down at him in the chair. “To pay me back for ruining my day. Do you accept?” They raise a single eyebrow, eyeing him up and down to see if he’s going to attempt to change his ways or not. This decision is up to him, but Fox knows the correct answer.
“Well, what is it?” He asks, not answering the question. Fox sighs and throws their hands up, almost breaking character to laugh at him.
“You don’t get to know until you accept!” They explain, smiling at him. He rolls his eyes and nods.
“Fine, yeah, whatever.”
“Then you’re to clean the kitchen.” His eyes widen at their sentence. He looks around the room at the kitchen surrounding them.
“The whole thing?” He asks in disbelief.
“The whole thing.” Fox nods and stands up to begin making dinner, secretly hoping that the raccoon cleaning their kitchen will be willing to stay for the meal after everything that they’ve put him through this evening.
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salembasil · 1 year
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Jewel eyed Judy
Stevie Ray Vaughan x femreader, fluff a little angst :)
enjoy girlies
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Jewel eyed Judy 
“T-bone, c'mere boy, we’re gonna pick daddy up today” 
That dog had become the only thing holding you together. Your husband of four years, Stevie, had just gone to rehab for abusing drugs and alcohol. All the touring and traveling got to him and he started taking drugs and drinking to get through it. 
During that time your relationship with Stevie plummeted. You couldn’t stand looking at him when he was drunk or high, no matter how many times you begged and pleaded him to stop, for the sake of “us” in your own words, it would only end in a fight, with things around the room broken and the whole house turned upside down. He drank to take the edge off the drugs, and took the drugs to pick him back up from being too drunk. It was an endless cycle 
So you’re glad that your boy is okay now. You finally have your Stevie back. 
You put out your cigarette and grabbed the keys to your 1973 dusty blue mustang convertible and opened the door wide for t-bone. 
He ran through and waited at the car for you, you opened the door and you both got in. The radio was playing “eyes without a face”. 
You harshly pulled out of the driveway, excited to see your man. T-bone with his tongue out, and head stuck out the window, one hand resting on your thigh, and one hand on the wheel. You were ready 
You waited anxiously in the car park for him to come out. You were biting at your nails and suddenly you hear abrupt knocks on your window. You jump, not expecting it. You look up and see your Stevie. He opens the door for you and you jump into his arms.
“Hey doll face, did you miss me” you pull away to look at his face. “Of course I missed you honey. Everyday, every single day, I was thinking about you”  
You felt a tear roll down your  cheek before Stevie swiped it away with his thumb. He held your face, and pressed a loving, and passionate, long awaited kiss on your blush tinted lips. 
“And t-bone is here to see me too” he walked up to the pup and gave him a big kiss on the top of his head. “I missed you boy” 
“Alright come on sugar, let’s head home” 
You threw him the keys and he drove you guys back home. His hand on your thigh, your hand playing with his hair at the nape is his neck, and t-bone smiling in the wind. 
The drive home was silent, but a comfortable silence. 
You let the dog in and he went to go sit on his bed. 
As soon as you two crossed the threshold between your house and the outside, you were immediately wrapped in his warm, protective embrace. 
You kissed his shoulder, while he rested his chin on the top of your head. You swayed to nothing but silence and stayed wrapped in his arms for a bit. 
“Baby you don’t know how much I’ve missed you. I know it was only a month, but I can’t live without you, you’re my everything. I’m sorry for being such an asshole to you. I love you, you’re my wife, you’re my other half. No you’re my whole. You are the reason I wake up every morning. I’m so sorry sugar. I hope you can forgive me” 
“Of course I can forgive you Stevie. Just dance with me. Let’s forget about it, forget about everything for two minutes baby” 
You walk over to your record player and put on Fleetwood mac's kiln album, jewel eyed Judy started playing. 
You joined Stevie once more and swayed to the soft sounds of Fleetwood Mac. His hands on your waist, and your arms swung around his neck, “I love you y/n with all my heart and soul you’re my moonlight and sunlight don’t ever leave me please” 
“I would never even think about Stevie, I love you more then life itself” 
He pulls you in closer by your waist and brushed his nose against yours softly, before placing his lips onto yours. Giving you a chaste kiss.
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assassincraft · 2 years
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RULES.  share four songs  /  pieces of music that represent your chara. ( repost, don’t reblog )
1. I WANTED SO BADLY TO BE BRAVE ( by the wonder years )
your father came in angry like a thunderstorm tossed you room from room and i watched color draining from your face fault lines started forming underneath all of your floorboards we sat terrified waiting on an earthquake
i watched you put on a brave face i wanted so badly to be brave ---- they’ll put a gun into your hand and call you weak until you're violent don't believe it they're hateful cause they're empty we've got a chance to break the cycle we could be the heroes that we always said we'd be "don't take me home, don't take me home, don't take me-”
ANALYSIS.  the first half really strikes a chord for me when nagisa’s mom storms into the classroom screaming over demanding nagisa to be moved out of the class and bribery. her grabbing him and abusing him in front of his own classmates and teachers. they couldn’t reall do anything other than watch her scream and throw a fit. they knew what he was now dealing with every day of his life.
for the second half, the government really did weaponize a class of failures and made fun of them and harassed them to make them want to do all of this. they didn’t want to at the end get rid of their teacher, to go back to the way things were before and how they were nobodies. they wanted to come out of this with it had meaning something to them, that they did right.
2. SLEEP IN THE HEAT ( by pup )
and nothin' i say will make it okay you just sleep in the heat and repeat you're wastin' away and nothin' i do is gonna save you i'm tryin' my best, but you can't even look at me and talk to me and tell me what's happening to you
yesterday, i went back to my apartment to see how you'd been holdin' up  you hadn't been eating, i thought you were sleepin', but you're not wakin' up and i want you to know that i'd spend every bit of my pitiful savings and loans  just to see you again but I know i won't
ANALYSIS. the death of koro sensei was hard on everyone, but in the anime they really dug it in of course for nagisa since he was the main character and main connection they made. having to volunteer to be the one to kill koro at the end despite trying to vouch for not killing him in the end really, really was painful. after for a moment losing two people in his mind after kayano was murdered, it really was just digging in loss for him. there’s nothing he could have done to stop this from happening, no money, no time, no words that could stop him from not having to kill koro. he had to do it and there was no way around it, and it was all just coming to an end that no one wanted, or could stop.
3. WELCOME TO THE FAMILY ( by watsky )
those fires in your attic that rage without permission some days invade your living room or break out in the kitchen they breeze right through the building they just show up as they please and then retreat like grown up children well how'd you like to split this L and tell me what you've witnessed if the price of life is hell well no one ever had to sell me on how nice a fire smells and there's so much I've been silent on
but i'll whisper every secret to you when this mic is gone and i know you'll listen  and i know it's different  but it gives me peace our missing pieces could be siblings the rough nights ain't leaving, so why the hell should we? and i say
welcome to the family
you deserve love you deserve love you deserve love
ANALYSIS.  from the start, nagisa has struggled with self image and doubt through out the series. wether at the start it was if he was worth being alive, if he is strong enough to confront his mother, or face the bullies simply harassing him in school. but his classmates for the most part have helped him through some really rough times. isogai, sugino, and maehara really were there for nagisa and have seen some really intense parts of his life. and them and the class are in it all together, lifting each other up and making sure along the way that their spirits are growing. by the end of the class, nagisa has self worth, power, strong love for himself as the end of it all hits with heavy waves.
4. HEAVEN’S GATE (SAD & SOBER)  ( by the wonder years )
you were a bandit, and i was a car wreck you were the decades on my feet i was under purple blankets
you were a bandit, and i was a car wreck you were the rifle on the wall and it was always gonna end
you were a bandit, and i was a car wreck you were the false rain that falls from a window AC unit
you were a bandit, and i was a car wreck you were the rifle on the wall and it was always gonna end like this
ANALYSIS.  the end of the assassination when the government tried to go behind their backs, they literally told the media that the kids were brainwashed and being held captive. that they all were stockholm-ed and wouldn’t admit to what was going on, they were stalked by the media and harassed while they tried to make their way up that mountain. 
but they knew what was up there all along. it was the first thing that he said to them, that by the end of the year, he would either be killed, or take the earth with him. despite them finding out the reason of why the earth would be destroyed being not his fault anymore, it was too dangerous. they had to do it, it was a story in motion, and it was always, always going to end this way despite how hard nagisa and half of the class, wanted to stop this fate.
TAGGED BY.  nobody found it on the dash like 4 years ago !! TAGGING.  @rooftop-blues @jaxxmulti @outahell @rahbid if you all want to !!
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