#i’m thirsty for saltwater | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

melodyofthevoid · 1 year

Text

Bodies are Business and Business is Good

Tw: blood, torture, amputation, etc. (It’s Heather)

Word Count: 3,326

There were fewer things more satisfying, Heather thought, than the slight hiss of the gas lamp in her work office.

A frankly wonderful modern invention, much more controlled than simple wax candles and less likely to blow out at a moment’s notice when she had her back turned or was in the middle of delicate work. Natural light wasn’t exactly an option, not here. And her clients tended to demand their money’s worth.

Plus, it was so nice to listen to the small intake of breath when her victims realized she was there. And the narrowing of their eyes as she became fully visible.

She turned the key and struck a match, blinking as her own eyes adjusted to the light, bouncing off of the thick carved stone and cast iron tools lining the walls. The vials and jars just waiting to be filled. And, shining off of the few exposed scales of the exhausted mer panting and strapped to her operation table.

As expected, they flinched when she descended the stairs, pulling at the restraints with all of their might. Clearly not enough, but a valiant effort.

“Apologies for the delay, but since you so stubbornly held onto your disguise, it put a damper on my evening plans the other day. I’m sure you must be thirsty.”

The angel fish snarled, flaring their bright yellow tail and thrashing harder, their scales– iridescent– bright blues, yellows and greens that would make for excellent amulets or accessories.

She made a note to get more leather and wire for the necklaces. Accessories sold well. Not as well as her other products, but well enough. A status symbol to those who were in the know.

“Fuck off- you- you-”

“Bitch? Monster? I’m sure I’ve heard it before. Believe me, I have.”

A well in the back, hidden by a few boxes, caught her victim’s eye as she walked over to it, grabbing a nearby bucket and pumping it full. Saltwater smell filled the air, overpowering the metallic tang of Heather’s tools.

The mer eyed the bucket, thrashing less as she approached. Ah, good. Maybe this one would be cooperative. Or somewhat more cooperative.

“Actually… Before we get started, and I let you have this, I have a simple question for you. Do you happen to know the location of any other mermaid colonies? You don’t have to tell me all of them, just one or two.”

Any relief that the mer–oh what was their name again? It didn’t really matter, the mer’s relief vanished, eyes narrowing to slits and their fins flaring out.

“Tell you- no. Fuck you. You and your dog won’t get your hands on any more mer- not if I can help it.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing, he is something of a dog, look at you.”

She ran a hand along their tail, ghosting over the gashes that lined it. Wounds that’d barely scabbed over during transport. Other bruises and scratches marred their skin and fins. Heather scowled. Charles was new, but that didn’t excuse abject incompetence.

This would put something of a dent in what she could sell. Charles would be compensated accordingly.

“I told him minimal damage, and yet here you are. Can’t even follow basic directions right. But I digress. If you won’t offer what I need, there’s no sense in dragging this out.”

Heather mulled over where to start, eyeing her knives and branding rods. Carving took longer, but risked too much thrashing for a clean cut. Fins, for all of their use, tore rather easily if not handled properly.

Morro —ah, right that was their name— looked to be healthy enough that draining them first wouldn’t end in them bleeding out entirely.

The needle it was then.

“Now where did I put it… ah, here it is.”

She hummed under her breath, pulling out three glass jars, and her needle, cleaning off the point of it and eyeing Morro’s exposed forearms. A good thing that they were tense already. That certainly made things easier.

A particularly exposed vein on their right arm made for the perfect target and Heather couldn’t help the shiver that went down her spine as the metal slid into the skin, flesh giving way to the needle’s piercing point. So satisfying.

Immediately crimson blood filled the glass tank of the gun, flowing down to the tube and filling up the first jar. The lifeblood of her operation, so to speak. So many customers, all vying for that most viscous and vital of her products. And who was she to deny them when she was living testimony of its efficacy?

Of course she’d never give away all her trade secrets for her longevity. She wasn’t born yesterday.

Or even within the last half century.

In any case, the blood flowed easily, and already one jar gleamed with it. Full to the brim. Switching one out for the other, Heather placed it off on a table, taking a moment to admire the flicker of the gas lamp light against the glass and crimson. Perhaps one day she’d find some other substance, a gemstone, a resin, something that could capture the beauty of her craft.

She doubted it though.

With a second jar nearly filled, Morro’s skin showed the effects. Ashy, almost clammy in places. Their gaze unfocused and any attempts at thrashing much weaker than before. Reaching the limits of what they could give today.

Heather switched out the jars one last time, watching the stream slowly taper off as their breathing slowed down and body relaxed against their will. For their trouble, she poured some of the sea water in the bucket over them, giving them a pat on the shoulder as she extracted the needle from their vein and bandaged the wound. Some blood sluggishly seeping through the gauze.

“You,” Morro slurred, “you’ll pay for this. Indra will hunt you for the rest of your days.”

“Mmm, is that so? Tell me, how long do you think I’ve done this work?”

Her captive didn’t respond. Only glaring with bared fangs.

“Believe me, if your goddess really gave a damn, I’d think she’d have taken notice by now. I’m not going anywhere, and for the time being? Neither are you.”

“The debt will be paid- MHMPH!”

Heather tied the gag tighter, rolling her eyes.

“That’s enough out of you. I’ll spare myself the usual theatrics. Feel free to still scream though, I don’t mind. You’ll give me what I want either way.”

Finally, Heather could get to the real work.

Choosing the right knife to start with always proved to be the most taxing part of the work. She’d tried typical fish scalers in the past, but those were better suited for the fishmongers and fresh markets. The scales she worked with required more work than that. But on the other hand, using the back of the wrong knife chipped and damaged the scales, and no one wanted to buy half a scale.

Heather’s fingers danced along the different blades, intermittently picking one up, twirling it, feeling the heft and then setting it back down, moving on to the next one. Eventually she settled on her favorite, a long curving blade, sturdy and sharp. Tempered steel reflecting her own dark gaze back at her.

Starting from the base of the tail, as she’d done a thousand times before, she wedged the back end of it underneath the first line of scales, and pushed upwards.

The previously limp mermaid jerked up, a muffled yelp coming from beneath the gag. Of course, Morro barely possessed the strength to so much as twitch. Too tired to fully put up a fight, but Heather tightened the straps on their tail anyway. With that secure, she continued pushing up, the shining iridescent angelfish scales now tinted red at the base as they fell to the floor below. They’d be cleaned and polished later.

Despite the gag, Heather winced as the mer tried to shriek, to throw her off through the only means they had left. Admirable if it weren’t so annoying. She took a step back and stood back up, towering over her prey. Cooing with a voice as sickly sweet as she could make it.

“Oh relax, this isn’t even the worst part. But we can get to that if you want. It might make this seem pleasant in comparison. How does that sound?”

Morro shook their head, but she’d already flipped her blade around and dug it into the membrane of the main tail fin, slicing through with no resistance. The bright yellow would make for a lovely trophy for the right buyer.

It was a little too bright for her tastes though. It clashed with the decor.

Hitching breaths came from above, strained and hissing through clenched teeth. The poor thing was trying to keep themself calm even with the gag. She laughed, cutting through the dorsal and pectoral fins next, setting them aside to dry.

Muffled moans and cries left Morro and Heather checked their cheeks to see if there were tears. A frustratingly rare commodity. Not that they did anything but clients always wanted them. By all means she could just sell some sea water, but she had standards.

She clicked her tongue to see that there were no tears. A shame.

With the last of the fins removed, Heather spun her knife back around and continued peeling away the scales, with far less reaction this time, which was also in and of itself a shame. She liked the fight so long as she could still do her job. Heather’d done Morro a mercy if anything. After an amputation, pulling a few scales probably felt like nothing. Like pulling nails off of a hand freshly devoid of a few fingers.

Sometimes though, the sudden lack of fight signaled an end to that night’s session. Ignoring her subjects too much could be costly. Brushing the last few whole scales into a second bucket, Heather stood back up, examining her work.

Morro was slumped over, exhausted from the strain and blood loss. Wiping any excess off of her knife on her apron, Heather did her usual checks, pulse, reflex, breathing, etc. They were still alive, which meant that she’d get at least a few more pints out of them by the time they eventually kicked the bucket. It’d be such a waste if she only got one day’s worth.

They’d hold out longer than that, she’d make sure of it.

With a sigh, she got out her needle and thread, stitching up the gashes Charles left and cleaning out the wounds. Bandaging up the stump near the tail. No infections, and no potential loss. The blood was no good from a dead mer.

As much as she liked the final processing steps, she still had other orders to fulfill, and going out of her way to catch another prospect? A waste of her time and resources. Nothing wasted, not if she could help it.

Her hairnet came off, as did the gloves and apron, all placed in their proper places far enough away that any nearby officers couldn’t smell the fresh blood on her. She needed to replace the shirt though. Again. The price she paid for wearing white.

Ah well, no skin off her back. She disposed of any evidence once or twice a year. Fireplaces served a variety of uses.

A quick shower and a change of clothes left Heather feeling far more accomplished and relaxed now that the euphoria of her work had passed. There was a certain… thrill to it, to the slice of flesh under her knife. But getting lost in that feeling led to less than precise work. In less vials of blood and damage to the organs she needed to sell later. So, for the sake of her own work, she had to take breaks. Balance was key, and experience taught her well.

Maybe for the evening she could fully unwind with some luxury time. She’d just have to find that bottle of wine and those chocolates she’d been saving.

The glasses were in the cabinet of her office, so here was hoping that there weren’t any last minute visitors. She’d had enough business for the day.

Though as she entered the room from the back, she sighed. No such luck.

A certain red-haired captain stood in the main lobby, smoking a cigar. Blowing rings of smoke into the air with his usual air of disinterest. Odd, he’d delivered her fresh supply not even a year and a half ago. Confusion outweighed her irritation at the intrusion. For now.

“To what do I owe this visit, Captain?”

Fachnan exhaled, tapping the stray ash onto the floor. Sullying it.

Asshole.

“Ah, Heather. I was hoping you’d stay in that dungeon for a little while longer. I find it’s easier to take in your trophies without you drooling all over them. We were stopping here for a short time and well, I figured I’d drop by.”

“Mhm…sure.”

The twitch in Fachnan’s hand and dart of his eyes didn’t exactly scream “casual chat”.

“Why’re you really here, and make it quick. You’re getting ash all over my perfectly good carpet. I do try to keep an air of respectability here.”

“My apologies, your majesty, I’ll be sure to clean your lair to a shine.”

Heather’s jaw tensed, teeth close to grinding. Unnecessary stress meant unnecessary aging, deep breaths in, deep breaths out. She forced herself to relax, schooling her expression into neutral disdain.

“False deference doesn’t suit you, Captain. I’d get your nose off of the floor before I lose my patience.”

“Fine, fine. Since you’re in a hurry I’ll make it quick.”

Fachnan gestured wide, splaying himself across the couch in her office with all the grace and respect she’d come to expect. Letting out a sigh, Heather grabbed the first open bottle of wine she could find and poured some out. Counting down the minutes until he left.

“The reason for my visit is simple, I want to do you a favor.”

She arched her brow, sipping at her glass.

“You’ve just been a source of income for me, Lady of the Sea. Owe at least some of my success to you. I’ve got a tip you might be interested in, for a small price, of course. Can’t just give this sort of thing to any ametuer.”

Actively sending Charles out on another hunt before she could properly chastise him for damaging this merchandise? She’d pass.

Besides, she paid Fachnan for tangible work. If she threw her fortune any idiot who walked in promising a lead, she’d have exhausted her coiffers long ago. Her decades of experience were worth far more than what one measly captain thought he knew.

“Charming, but I’m not looking to take on another project or search for one at the moment. Frankly, I don't like drawing more attention to myself than necessary. You know how these new officers get, all bright eyed and full of belief in ‘law and order’. The guard’s changed in the past few years, and I’m not exactly looking to make any waves at present. The fewer bodies, the better.”

She sipped at her wine once more, mulling over the best way to politely but firmly tell Fachnan to fuck off. Alone time was calling her name like the sirens she cut to ribbons.

“Well that’s a shame. Here I thought you were interested in a shark mer. Guess not then.”

With an inhale, the wine went down her throat and Heather choked and coughed. It burned all the way up to her sinuses, but nothing compared to the spark of interest. Still catching her breath, she unlatched a compartment in the desk behind her, pulling out a sharpened knife and setting it on the wood beside her.

He could lie or take out his sword if he wanted, but her reputation spoke for itself. There’d be one winner here.

“I see I have your attention then,” he smirked, “I’ll admit, the gold was a bluff. This one’s on the house.”

“Bullshit. What do you want?”

“Fine, this mer in question is something of… a thorn in my side. You taking care of her would be doing me a service, Madame Butcher. She appears to be a hybrid, if that sweetens the deal.”

It did. Quite a bit in fact.

“And you’re sure about this?”

“Dead certain. Last saw her face off the coast of Paign. Goes by the name of Delta. About seven feet tall, blue fins, blue coat, she’s fairly hard to miss. Has a whole crew of mer from what I could tell.”

A whole crew… she let out a breath.

“No shit. Typically I don’t get in the middle of feuds, or do bounty work for that matter, but just this once? I think I can agree with that. In fact…”

Heather stood up, walking over to a mahogany cabinet, carved with intricate flowers and vines. An inherited piece, and not even a forced one. They’d handed it over after the funeral, which was well and good. Natural causes were less messy to deal with generally speaking. She pressed the central-most flower’s petals and the compartment toward the bottom opened up, shining vials revealed within it.

“A gift, to a valuable partner. For your health.”

She held out a crimson vial. Heart blood.

“I’d like to keep my more reliable freelancer at sea for a few more years.”

Seconds ticked by, and Fachnan shook his head, “No, like I said. This one’s free. I just want her gone.”

Pirates and their honor codes. She rolled her eyes and set the vial back into its case.

Although speaking of…

“By the way, how’s that associate of yours doing? Changed his tune yet? I know he’s got quite the reputation for finding what he’s looking for. I’d like to use his expertise.”

Deep lines set into Fachnan’s face as he glanced away. Shoulders lowered. His bravado evaporated leaving behind only bitter salt.

“He and I won’t be seeing each other any time soon, gods willing. My only hope is it was quick.”

Ah. So it was like that then.

“I see, I apologize. I’ve been rather busy as of late, haven’t kept up with the times. My condolences for your loss.”

He grit his teeth, expression darkening further.

“It was his decision. We parted ways some time ago. He knew the risks of going soft, and look where it got him.”

“Well, that is how it is sometimes. Connections come and connections go. Time stops for a lucky few.”

The dots weren’t hard to connect, as hard as Fachnan fought to keep his aloof persona intact. Whatever drama or series of events led to this, frankly she didn’t care. What mattered was her prize. He could mourn his lost flame all he wanted on his own time.

With the last of his cigar fully gone, Fachnan stared at the embers before standing up from the couch, lifting his chin to look down at her. She met his gaze with a smile every bit as sharp as her tools.

“I’ll be heading off then. Send word when you need my services again.”

“Oh I will, don’t you worry. Thank you for stopping by, your help is much appreciated.”

He didn’t respond, only turning for the door and leaving Heather alone with her wine and her thoughts. Her smile stretched wider across her face and she let out a laugh, growing in intensity as euphoria set in.

A shark. A shark hybrid.

Looked like she’d have to clear her schedule to ensure that this… Delta could get all the attention that Heather could offer. Get the care and quality work that she deserved as the future crown jewel of her collection.

Morro could be rest assured that their suffering would be brief. She had preparations to make.

#my writing #ocean idiots #please enjoy!#I've had this one banked for a bit and I'm still super proud of it #gotta do some more writing now that college is almost done #yippee #oh I'll put the tags down here too #blood tw #torture tw #amputation tw #heather is sadistic and though that's not a surprise she is actively butchering live people #so #ya know #also fachnan is a funny guy #wonder why he's got it out for delta #or one of delta's... associates #hehe #anyways

95 notes · View notes

dont-f-with-moogles · 9 months

Text

The Farthest Sea

Word Count: 1249 Characters: Levi x Hange, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Sasha, Connie Canon universe

The giant salt lake lay before them, surging and rippling its blue flanks. Masses of white clouds were draped above, leaving only tiny windows of sky to spill shafts of light upon the scene. The water shimmered where each golden spear struck its surface. Amidst the cry of gulls overhead came the wild roar of the waves. Hange watched as a great crest rushed towards them, charging with all the ferocity of a thousand white horses. As the cavalry neared their position, they stumbled and collapsed into foam upon the sand. The swirling mass of water melted away as the tide dragged backwards, only to swell once more as though in preparation for a fresh assault.

Amazed, Hange dropped their boots behind them and walked until the soft, warm grains which clung to their feet became earthy and moist. They rooted themself firmly at the water’s edge, relishing the pleasant squelch of sand around their toes. As a flood of ice water lapped around their ankles, Hange gave a scream of delight.

“It’s freezing! I-incredible!”

There came a howl over to their right where Connie was hurling handfuls of saltwater into Sasha’s eyes. Jean, tired and thirsty from the long ride, reprimanded them both.

“Why do you two always have to act like such idiots!” he seethed, stooping over the glistening water and cupping a handful of it to drink.

On Hange’s left side, Armin stood open-mouthed. It was as though the young Scout had never fully allowed himself to believe in the existence of such an entity. He had long dreamed of discovering the sea and yet, now that it lay before him, it seemed to astonish him with its indisputable materiality. He drifted towards it with the rapture of a sleep-walker. Behind him, Eren and Mikasa held their boots out of the waves’ reach, unsure whether or not they should follow.

Only Levi remained by the base of the cliff.

“Woo hoo!” Hange cried. With unrestrained delight, they plunged their arms into the cold sea and flung handfuls of water over their hair and face. Hange gave a wild shake of their head and wiped their mouth. The substance had left a bitter tang upon their lips.

“Wow, is this actually full of salt water? Huh…” For their attention was immediately seized by a dark object lurking in the shallows. Through their smeared glasses, Hange struggled to discern the identity of the creature. Cylindrical in shape and no longer than 3 inches, it was certainly unlike any fish Hange had ever encountered. The organism seemed to drift lazily with the current, giving every impression of being dead.

“Hmmm. What could that be?”

“Hey Hange!” Levi called out from the sanctuary of the cliffside. “You shouldn’t touch it. It might be poisonous.”

Only partially registering what had been said, Hange waded out further into the water. They lifted up the mucous creature and held it out before them. Its body had a greyish hue and was covered entirely with tiny holes. It dilated like a long sigh, oozing foam in their hand.

“Wow!” Hange gasped, swinging around to Levi with their discovery. “Look!”

Levi, who had not stirred, narrowed his eyes in disgust. “The hell is that? Titan shit?”

Hange had hardly opened their mouth to correct him before he relented. “I know, I know. Titans don’t defecate…”

“Oh good. Looks like I finally taught you something!” Hange bent down to the water once more, then brought the bizarre creatures closer in an effort to scrutinise them. “I’m not sure what these are though… could it be horse shit?” Levi’s mouth was pulled into an indistinguishable line.

“How have you got two of them?”

“I think they like me!” Hange grinned.

“They think you’re one of their own,” he quipped at them. Hange had their back to him, absorbed in their study. Despite himself, Levi drew a step closer to the water before planting his feet firmly into dry sand.

“At least the air here is clean…” he conceded. “…and the view isn’t bad…”

Hange gazed over the endless expanse of ocean. Sea and sky merged into an immeasurable translucent plain. The journey to the beach had been long, but it was incomparable to the notion of crossing these waters. How could one ever hope to reach the other side of the sea and survive? Hange turned to Levi but found his eyes were upon them.

“…it’s incredible, isn’t it?,” Hange answered finally. Then a smile crept across their face. “You should see it from here!”

“I’m fine where I am,” Levi remarked coolly.

His protest was to no avail, for Hange swung around to face him. Levi grabbed at their hands, prising them away from his arms. Undeterred, Hange seized a handful of his green cloak, urging him forward. “Come on Levi! This research is for the good of humanity!”

“Like hell it is!” Levi snarled as they grappled, “you just want to torture me with that stuff!”

He conceded by one step before quickly unlatching the metal clasp at his shoulder. Hange, who had been tugging at the material, stumbled over backwards with his cloak in their hands.

“I’m holding you responsible for getting that cleaned, Shitty Glasses.”

Hange stood, the cloak now clouding the water at their feet, and clung to Levi’s wrist. He attempted to writhe out from the grip of their icy fingers, but Hange’s grip upon his arm tightened. Their free hand sought his shoulder, steering him ever closer. Levi shuddered as seawater soaked through his shirt. Then something cold and slimy touched the back of his neck.

“Huh?! Get that filthy shit away from me!”

Hange’s breathless laughter was in his ear.

“So Levi, what do you think?”

“I think I’m going to drown you in this damn lake,” Levi snarled.

“Ah, but do you really want to risk being in the water for that long, Levi? It only takes one piece of poisonous horse shit to touch you…”

He refused to answer them. Either his anger had peaked to such a degree that it had rendered him speechless, or he had somehow become both awed to his new surroundings and startled by the very notion of being awed. Hange’s laughter slowed. Their hands were still on him.

Hange weighed these same thoughts years later, from where they stood upon the dockside. This time the waters looked different. The sea stretched out before them, an infinite plane of blue burnished with red light. A few feet away, the hydroplane was grounded and bathed in heat. The island stood a little beyond forever. Hange had never before recalled feeling so far away from home. For now, it was a place they would never return to.

Hange turned, their cape whirling about them as they strode away. They were slow, dragging footsteps at first before becoming quicker, more urgent… until the drumming of their boots drowned out the thudding of their heart.

#happy birthday Hange-san :)#hange zoë #levi ackeman #levihan #levi x hange #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #sasha braus #connie springer #attack on titan #snk #my writing

36 notes · View notes

terapsina · 1 year

Text

A King’s Mistake - graylora fic

- ao3 -

Grief was a funny thing. There was an ebb and flow in it, the push and pull of a moon adding gravity to the water, burying that pain in one moment and exposing it to the scalding sunlight the next.

Elora’s pain had bled into the air around her when she’d killed the Crone for snatching Graydon from her before she’d had a chance to truly acknowledge all that he’d come to mean to her. And it had felt the searing touch of saltwater as Boorman had given her Graydon’s flute.

The sting had eased - just a touch - as they traveled back, as every new responsibility had taken precedence over the cracks forming over the beating organ in her chest; as every small struggle took attention away from the memory of the last look he’d sent to her before he’d taken her place in the fight and was blasted into dust - full of love and conviction and the heart that she knew was so much stronger than he thought it was. She forced herself to feel every bruise she’d received in the fight, every new blister on the heel of her foot. Because when she made herself focus on the physical, it granted moments of relief from the emotional.

It carried her over the Shattered Sea all the way to Tir Asleen.

Right up until they stood in front of King Hastur and gave him the news of his younger son’s death.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Your Majesty,” Kit announced in the room that held their group, Queen Sorsha, and Graydon’s stone-faced father.

There was a beat of silence as the king of Galladoorn took in the news and Elora did her best to look somewhere over the man’s shoulder so that she wouldn’t have to see her own grief echo back.

“So the quivering failure of a son couldn’t even manage to live long enough to give me the heir he promised,” the king said, voice as empty as the eyes Elora was now staring at “how disappointing.”

She felt the blow from the cruelty of those words like a slice across the veil she’d constructed between herself and the tearing sensation she’d felt a heartbeat before she had realized the Crone was about to murder Graydon in front of her powerless eyes. And like then, the moment was followed by the roar of magic burning through her veins, hissing through her soul until all that remained was the blood-thirsty haze of power just waiting at her fingertips.

It had felt good back then. Had woken a part of her that had been sleeping for years, content with the little sparks of intuition that had made her cooking phenomenal and kept her otherwise utterly below notice. Brought her alive with rage and agony and something that she knew Graydon would have found beautiful.

If he'd been alive to see it.

“Elora,” she heard Willow caution her somewhere just past her notice.

“Shit!” came from Kit who suddenly appeared in front of her, cutting Elora’s eye line off from the man it would be so easy to tear into pieces just now. She twisted her wrist, green lightning throwing Kit aside and into Jade’s arms. She knew she’d feel bad about that later, but just now all that mattered was to clear the way between her and the monster who didn’t deserve to call himself a father.

On the other side of her, she briefly caught the sight of Boorman grabbing Airk by his shoulder and hauling him back from interfering. And that was the last thing to happen before she was in front of King Hastur with her hand around his throat and her nails cutting into his skin.

“How dare you-”

She cut him off mid-word with a snarl.

“How dare I? How dare you speak of him as if you deserve to breathe the air he no longer can, I could burn you alive for those words.” Rage was coursing through her veins as she brought to mind the way Graydon had flinched when she’d questioned him about his brother, the way resignation had swallowed the light that always rested in his eyes when he’d looked at her. As if that had been an often-trodden over blame he’d become used to listening to, and for the first time, Elora wondered from whom he’d been hearing it.

“Who do you think you are to-”

She smiled, something vicious overtaking her as she ran her eyes over the face that held elements of Graydon in it, - something in the shape and color of the eyes and line of the nose - but lacked the purity of the soul and the bravery of the heart she'd found in his son.

She knew his like; he was a worm who used his luck of birth to get away with any number of atrocities. Elora wondered how many of them had been against the youngest son who'd gotten possessed as a child and had lived with the terrible consequences of it for years since those unfixable moments in the tree.

“I’m Elora Danan, and if I were you I’d stop talking for a minute,” she said, verdant sparks running over her skin all across her body as she hovered over the abyss.

There was the careful touch of another hand coming to rest over Elora's, and making her aware of the room around her once more.

"You know he wouldn't want you to do this, Elora," Kit told her as Elora reluctantly took her eyes away from King Hastur, and the blood draining from his face at the revelation of her identity.

"You don't know that." Her mind was conjuring pictures of that younger Graydon she'd seen in the vision, imagining him dwarfed by this man who would have been so much larger than him, with the eyes filled with the darkness Elora could see in them. Just a boy who hadn't been able to fight off a demon.

"Yes, I do. And so do you." Kit's voice was kind, so different from the way she'd spoken to Elora at the beginning of their quest before they'd reached the point of friendship and something very near to sisterhood. Before they'd taken a leap of faith off the edge of a cliff.

"He doesn't get to speak of Graydon like he wasn't- like he wasn't important to- to-"

"To you?"

"Like he wasn't priceless. Like he wasn't his son. Like he didn't give his life to save the world, to save me." Elora felt something break anew inside her. He'd died for her. And he wouldn't have had to if only Elora had been able to touch the power that was only a thought away now before she'd seen him scatter like ash in the wind.

She didn't want to let go - wanted to go through with her threat - but she let Kit pull her back with a sob.

For a moment hatred flashed over King Hastur's face and it looked like he was about to backhand either Elora or Kit for this slight against his person, but he froze back in place as Elora's hand was at once replaced by the edged blade of Jade's sword.

"That's a bad idea, Your Majesty," Jade told him, coldly.

But Elora only barely took notice of it, instead pulling her hand to press it against the center of her stomach, trying to push the gushing agony back into place, where it couldn't quite touch her. She failed. Instead, falling to her knees, she began to sob like it was only now that her heart was getting torn out of her chest. Kit's arms wound around her and she cried harder because despite their warmth, - despite the comfort Kit was offering - they weren't the hold Elora wanted to feel soothing her.

She wanted it to be Graydon.

He'd be uncertain and awkward, and he'd ask her if she wanted him to hug her or to go get someone else. And he'd be able to read her answer even if she wasn't able to get it past her lips. He'd be so very perfectly Graydon about it.

And Elora wanted him to be alive for that comfort more than she'd ever wanted anything else.

But bringing the dead to life seemed to be the one thing that was out of her power. Not even the great Elora Danan, Semprum Sorceress of the Nine Realms, Daughter of the Sun and Moon, and Last Blood of Kymeria could cross that final barrier.

#graylora #graylora fic #elora danan #graydon hastur #kit tanthalos #willow #willow fic #willow disney #fanfic #otp: desire really is the most exquisite agony #bff: elora x kit #zivian hastur

22 notes · View notes

princemick · 11 months

Note

any f1 fic recs? i’m thirsty for rare pair crumbs and need guidance to wade through the desert of ao3

YES!! god yes I have some fic recs.

I have like 150 bookmarks so I'm gonna for your sake go through them just for rarepairs or pairs I dont think get enough love!!

also I'm seeing rarepairs as rairs w less then like 200 fics on ao3

the red parts by miamis

(loscar, omegaverse, secret omega, smut)

hate by Anonymous

(schumilton, au: medieval, knight mick and prince lewis)

perfect pretenders by warriorbarnes

(schucon, fake/pretend relationship, friends to lovers)

everything i know about love by caihongs

(charles/daniel, character study, charles's grief, getting together)

Growing Pains by individualist

(hornywolff, just, all the angst, marriage crisis)

Saltwater and Gasoline by Kaytheologie

(charles/bono, slow burn, porn with feelings, praise kink)

you're not winning ('til you're winning me) by babypapaya

(dantteri, mutual pining, angst and humor)

The subtle difference between holding a hand and chaining a soul by Jean____Ralphio

(este/nando, office romance, nando is a mystery man)

this type of love don't always come and go by lewisshamilton

(lando/michael, omegaverse, fluff and smut, pack dynamics)

#what if I had added my drarry or superbat bookmarks in here like issa rairpare in f1 #kyle.answers #anyway these r all amazing and so so highly reccomend them ALL #rpf #fic recs #its fucking offensive that dantteri is part of the rarepairs btw i hate it

15 notes · View notes

stardewey · 1 year

Text

I posted 516 times in 2022

That's 331 more posts than 2021!

41 posts created (8%)

475 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@almond-milk-man

@bunny-carrothunter

@campyvillain

@dorinahv2

@imposter1491625

I tagged 162 of my posts in 2022

#shit post - 20 posts

#wordgirl - 15 posts

#shit repost - 6 posts

#gotham - 6 posts

#oswald cobblepot - 5 posts

#spooky month - 5 posts

#bob velseb - 5 posts

#ow - 4 posts

#spooky month art - 4 posts

#overwatch 2 - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 74 characters

#the collector is basically if moondrop and sundrop’s personalities swapped

My Top Posts in 2022:

Ms. Teavee: What is your biggest weakness?

Willy Wonka : I can be uncooperative.

Ms. Teavee : Okay, can you give me an example?

Willy Wonka: No.

————

Mr. Salt Mr. Wonka was banned from the chicken shack, so we had to go out of town to get some.

Willy Wonka: Well, they shouldn’t say “all you can eat” if they don’t mean it.

Mr. Salt: Mr. Wonka, you ate a chair.

————

Mr. Salt: Mr. Beauregarde, what do IDK, LY, and TTYL mean?

Mr. Beauregarde: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later

Mr. Salt: Ok, I love you too, I’ll just ask Ms. Teavee.

————

Charlie Bucket: Date someone who will drag you outside at 3am to look at the stars.

Mike Teavee: If anyone, and I mean anyone, wakes me up at 3am to go look at the damn sky they will be removed indefinitely from my life.

————

Charlie Bucket, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Ms. Bucket: You did WHAT–

Willy Wonka: William Snakepeare

31 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

Normal I don’t like Yandere stuff

But

My Favorite Employee is an exception

( I made some art for it, though I used two oc I made for Spooky Month- the one in mask is named Jacob and the employee is named Delilah )

See the full post

38 notes - Posted December 6, 2022

I love Stu so much ❤️

I used Vicky to romance him when I originally played it

I love this stoner gargoyle

53 notes - Posted December 14, 2022

Thirsty?

Otto Octavius x reader

Sometimes love can start from the little things, sometimes they start by bumping into someone. This was simply started because a joke about saltwater.

Otto struggled as he tried to untie his robotic tentacles. He sighed as it didn't help much, it might've even made it tighter against him. He narrowed his eyes at two people, Spiderman... he was also known as Peter Parker, but it wasn't the one he knows and a person by the name of Y/N.

He of course was displeased by Peter, but he didn't mind the other's company as much.

“Y/N, I'm gonna need to check up on something, so stay here with Dr. Octopus, okay?” Peter had said.

Dr. Octopus?

DR. OCTOPUS?

Really? Otto thought the child could've just called him by the name... he had already told him his name anyway!

“Oh, sorry about him! He likes to joke, umm... thirsty?” Y/N had asked. Was she actually trying to be nice to him? He wasn't sure very much sure.

“Umm... I suppose so”

“Okay, do want fresh or saltwater?” Y/N tried to joke, but the joke didn't seem to land on him well by the look on his face.

“O-Oh.. sorry- since your an octopus... nevermind. Fresh it is then.”They went into a near by kitchen and started to fill a cup with some fresh water from the tap, she even added a little bit of ice.

Otto actually kind of felt.. bad? He didn't mean to upset them, maybe he should apologize? Y/N soon came back with the water, he had drank the water before starting,

“Sorry-” The doctor had began, “I didn't mean to well... upset you.”

“Don't worry, I wasn't thinking when I made the joke.” Y/N chuckled out. This was strange.. were the doctor and Peter's friend getting along? Were they even…in love? Yes, it wasn't to hard to see. Luckily, once he is back to himself again, they won't have to hide their love from themselves or anyone else.

Hopefully you liked that! This was my first ever fanfic, so I’m pretty sure there are mistakes

I’ll be posting this on Wattpad, deviantart, and Commaful.

Wattpad and Commaful username is stardewey

Deviantart username is Stardewwy

75 notes - Posted March 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

So Bob Velseb, but It’s Cold Outside?

No one?

I guess I will, others can join though lmao

See the full post

90 notes - Posted December 4, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

You simps ( For Bob Velseb and Otto Octavius )

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #You simps

2 notes · View notes

graff1980 · 3 years

Text

I’m not trying to be sexist, but these feeling do exist, drumming beats persist no matter how hard I struggle to dismiss this passion I feel as I try to wheel and deal my way into her heart and garner love’s gentle kiss.

I want all of it, her tight body and alarming but charming wit.

Her form curves in all the best ways, but my word play, is just pathetic romantic lines of a frantic fool on the edge of a thousand story ledge.

I should stay away, but stupidly I wander in, to get stuck in the zone of friends, a black hole that never lets me out again.

One more jack ass thirsty in a sea of saltwater I can never drink, of dreams I will never achieve, and all that it leaves is me writing poetry in a state of frustrated longing.

-2021

#poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #poets corner #spilled ink #writerscreed

7 notes · View notes

letsunity · 3 years

Text

Not Afraid - Chapter 1

Summery -

The Bad Batch go to Tatooine to resupply and avoid the Empire. As per the usual, Omega gets separated from the group. Fortunately for her, Krayt's Claw just so happens to be nearby. Bossk and Embo guide her to Boba Fett, who takes interest in why the Kaminoans want her. It's a reluctant partnership, with the Bad Batch having to rely on Krayt's Claw to navigate non-military life.

Tatooine is hot, dry and bright, the opposite of Kamino. She stayed by Hunter's side, inquisitively looking at everything around her. Everything was new and interesting; she wanted to learn everything. The heat emanating from the suns above bore down, drying out her mouth and cracking her lips.

The market was bustling with aliens of all kinds, from giants to dwarves, each with their own story. Everybody had their own experiences, which fascinated Omega, as she had none. She hadn't even experienced dirt until recently.

"I don't think credits are enough here," Echo sighed, irked by the constant rise in temperature. "Not to mention the place is infested with lowlifes."

"Considering how Pantora went, we fit right in," Tech continued blankly, earning an eye-roll from the cyborg. "It's possible we'll have to do a job in exchange for supplies."

"As much as I don't want to agree, it looks that way," Hunter said, nodding slightly. "It's not like we can go to Jabba the Hutt for a job, though. There aren't a lot of people who won't turn on us in a second."

Although it was important, she struggled to pay attention.

The crowd became thick like an ocean, slamming against the group. Something was going on, and whatever it was, Omega wanted to see. Wrecker picked her up, sitting her on his shoulder so she could see above the rest. From the looks of it, a man was duelling someone else, the fight brutal and lawless.

Whoever they were, they must be important, given the crowd. Several people bumped into Wrecker, betting on who'd win. One shoved him hard enough to cause Omega to fall off, angering the hulking clone. Unsurprisingly, this led to another fight, which Hunter and Echo tried dragging him away from.

She wasn't sure why, but he'd been a little more aggressive as of late. Maybe it was because they're hungry? That would make sense. Hunger made people act weird.

People from the first fight got involved in Wrecker's, creating a cacophony of chaos and excitement. As people hurried to surround them, they shoved Omega away, pushing her from side to side. Before she could try fighting back, somebody else shoved her down, sand seeping into her clothes and hair.

She pulled her hand, avoiding it being crushed by someone's boots. Anytime she tried to move, someone walked over her or into her. They didn't have a care in the world that she was in their way, so she stayed put, waiting for it to dissipate.

The moment it seemed safe enough to get up, a Rodian sneered in disgust, thinking she was some slave. Revolted by her, the Rodian kicked the humanoid thing, wanting it away from him.

"Big mistake," hissed someone behind him.

As Omega rubbed her eye, trying to remove the sand, she could make out a hand.

Embo helped the child stand, asking if she was alright. She didn't understand him, so he helped wipe some sand from her eye, looking to Bossk.

The Trandoshan licked blood from his claws, finished with the Rodian pest. With Marrok grunting beside him, Embo requested that he talk to her.

Bossk knelt, looking over the girl. Her condition and clothing meant she wasn't from here and couldn't be more than around ten. The kick would bruise, but he didn't feel any broken bones.

"Where's your family?" Bossk hissed, looking around for someone like her.

She wouldn't say, closing up. A wise decision, given how hostile Tatooine is to foreigners.

"Alright. We'll give you a place to stay while we look for your family or friends. You look dehydrated, and you could get sunburnt. I'm Bossk, and that's Embo, plus his mutt Marrok."

Embo protested to the insult of his fuzzy son. Bossk rolled his eyes, not understanding his attachment to the oversized Massiff.

Omega hadn't met a Trandoshan before, although she was aware of them. She didn't know what Embo was, nor his animal companion. She didn't want to follow them, but she didn't know what else to do. Unlike the orange helmet lady, they actually helped her. Her eye hurt, but Embo's assistance made it tolerable.

They waited patiently for her to decide, their presence scaring off some people. The Trandoshan offered a hand, his arm creepily long. Though hesitant, she just wanted to go home, and they were all she had. Hesitantly, Omega took the reptile's hand. Instead of clasping back, his hand was relaxed, giving her control.

Gently, they walked beside her, Marrok walking behind them. They were purposefully slow, doing it for her sake. So far, they were nicer than the mean lady.

Embo spoke to Bossk in a language she didn't know, the Trandoshan making several expressions she didn't understand. She wanted to understand, but that would take a while.

They led her to a house-like location, opening the door for her. Embo mumbled something to Bossk and left, presumably to find her friends.

The reptilian motioned for her to sit, pointing to a large table belonging to a cantina. As Omega sat down, she examined the location, understanding it to be a home base of sorts. There were locker-like contraptions in the walls with symbols etched into each one. Bossk opened one, likely his, and tossed a bottle to her.

As Omega opened it, a funny smell ran through her nose and assaulted her tongue. Instead of waiting for her, he took one himself and drank it, a long tongue licking his scaled lips afterwards.

She took a sip, feeling cold water trickle down her oesophagus. She didn't realise how thirsty she was.

"What's your name, kid?" Bossk asked, sitting across from her.

"I'm Omega. Thanks for the water, mister."

"My nephew and I have a strict code about children. If there's one in need, it'd be wrong to turn them away. Embo's adopted the same code since working with us," he said casually, looking at her clothing. "You aren't from around here. What brings your pals to the sandy rectum of the galaxy?"

"We needed to get supplies. We were meant to get them on Pantora, but a mean lady with an orange helmet got in the way. She had red strings in her hair, too."

He nodded, aware of the woman Omega described.

"Fennec Shand. She's fairly new to the Bounty Hunting game, more of the assassin type. Someone must want you bad if they hired her. You don't have to worry about me, though; I don't do bounties with kids."

The door opened as two more entered. There was a man with cloth around his head and C-Assassination Droid. They stared at the girl, surprise on the man's face, and they slowly looked at Bossk. Apparently, this wasn't the first time he'd brought a kid back.

Bossk introduced her to Dengar and Highslinger, part of his group. Dengar sat down, shoving the Trandoshan to make more room. The reptile hissed, but Dengar waved it off, seemingly afraid of nothing.

"What is it with you lot and adopting kids, huh?" Dengar joked, getting a growl from the reptile. "Don't give me that, grumpy. Don't urate yourself or whatever you do."

The droid spoke up, essentially calling Dengar a moron. Bossk nodded in agreement, pushing Dengar off his seat. The man casually got up, used to the Trandoshan's friendliness, or lack thereof.

They reminded her of Hunter and the others.

"Be a good moron and look for her friends. What're their names?"

"Hunter, Echo, Wrecker and Tech. They've got an Omicron shuttle, Havoc Marauder," she named, eager to reunite with them.

"Omicron, huh? That'll be an easy find. You don't see a lot of those hovering around these days," Dengar assured, walking back outside. Highslinger provided a robotic wave, following the tanned cyborg.

"It's a big place. In the meantime, have a nap while I make some food. You look like you could do with some."

They weren't anything like the mean 'Fennec'.

Bossk watched over the girl, pausing as she fell into a deeper sleep than either anticipated. Slowly, he lifted her, holding her against his warm body. She was underweight, having near to no muscle on her at all. Poor thing was exhausted.

Her clothes were old and tattered, having seen far better days, and her boot soles were near non-existent from wear. Not just that, but her clothes were Kaminoan, which worried Bossk.

Slowly, the Trandoshan walked out the back, stepping into the Slave-1. The smell of saltwater seared his nostrils, but it helped Bo sleep. Since Jango died, he couldn't sleep without the smell of Kaminoan oceans, even though he hated the planet. He felt her breathing changing like she was more comfortable.

That confirmed that she was from Kamino. It was good that she wasn't there anymore, but still.

Carefully, Bossk pulled out a makeshift bunk, having set it up for Jango many times. The man overworked himself, often falling asleep in the cockpit. It was something that Bo inherited, the little scamp, so much like his dad.

Every day, Bossk missed that asshole more and more. Even the grump of Cad Bane missed Jango's enthusiastic crazy, and weirdly, Jabba took it worse than Bossk, and Jango was his brother. Not even as a close friend, he was raised by Jango's adoptive parents.

He couldn't imagine how mom was doing. She struggled with Jaster died, but with Jango gone as well? He couldn't fathom it.

As Bossk placed the sleeping girl into the makeshift bunk, several questions clouded his mind. What did Fennec want with this kid? She was as normal as Bossk had ever seen, just a plain child. For the likes of Fennec to be sent after her, things were serious. Before leaving her, he made sure to tuck a blanket over her, keeping her secure.

Concerned, Bossk checked her bounty, and unsurprisingly, the Kaminoans issued it. When it came to those lunatics, he loved the idea of getting in their way. Helping her meant upsetting them, which was good.

In the meantime, they'd have to find her friends. They were probably worried sick for her.

When Bossk exited the Slave-1, he found Embo waiting for him.

"She's asleep. She'll have a black eye, but nothing too severe. What've you found?"

"Someone saw the kid with four men in altered clone trooper armour, all with skulls painted on. Apparently, similarly-armoured hooligans were sighted on Pantora recently. Think they're clones?"

"We shouldn't rule it out. Get Derrown or Black Krrsantan to find their ship; I'm sure Dengar's getting pissed somewhere. Do what you do, Em."

Embo nodded, whistling for Marrok. As they set off, Bossk wondered what the Kaminoans could be up to. From Ventress' info, before she died, they were out of fresh Jango Juice. There's no telling what the hell they're thinking.

#the bad batch #omega bad batch #bossk #embo #dengar #clone force 99 #hunter #echo #wrecker #tech #marrok #kaminoans be dickheads #fanfic #Not Afraid fic

19 notes · View notes

ga-yuu · 3 years

Text

“Lust of lovers in summer” Story Event~Kurama Route

It was during the time when the sun was relentlessly beating down on us.

Many people have collapsed in the heat and I have been working hard for some time now.

Yoshino: “.....Haa.”

(Maybe I’m a bit tired.... but then again, it’s hot today.)

The sun has only just risen and I can feel the sweat running down my neck just sitting there.

(I know more people will be ill, and I can’t take time off work for a while.)

Yoshino: “It’s summer and we haven’t even been to the beach this year.”

Immediately after muttering to no one in particular, a shadow appeared at the entrance to the room, which had been left open.

Kurama: “As usual, you’re working hard for humans.”

Yoshino: “Kurama!”

I tried to stand up, but Kurama stopped me and sat down.

Kurama: “Well done, for being a softie and letting the heat get the best of you.”

Yoshino: “Softie?”

(That’s refreshingly Kurama-like.)

The rhetoric is still very much the same, but---

I felt a little less tired at the sight of my beloved’s unchanging presence.

Yoshino: “Everyone else who works in the sun has a much harder time, so we have to help them at least this much.”

Kurama: “Help? Well, it’s none of my business, anyway.”

As he says this, Kurama pulls a jug from his side.

He poured some water into it and gave it a whiff.

(Ah....)

The sight of his exposed masculine throat is so sexy that it makes my heart beat a little faster.

(Come to think of it, I haven’t had anything to drink since this morning.)

Feeling thirsty, I gazed at Kurama in a daze. (see! she’s making that orgasm face.)

Kurama: “Yoshino.”

Yoshino: “Eh? Ah,....”

Kurama came over to me and ran his cold fingers down the back of my neck.

Kurama: “Don’t spill it.”

(What?....Mm.)

Before I could ask him, he sealed his lips against mine.

The water flows from the lips that meet as we kissed.

(Oh, delicious.)

I was given exactly what I wanted and I swallowed it without resistance.

Kurama: “Did you drink it?”

As he parted his lips, Kurama caressed my throat in a complimentary way.

Kurama’s fingers traced the surface of my wet lips and a faint numbness ran over my skin.

Yoshino(blushing): “Mm...Kurama....”

Kurama: “Not enough?”

Yoshino: “Th-That’s no it...I....oh.”

I was blushing, but Kurama’s fingers caught my chin and forced me to look up at him.

Kurama: “Why are you even trying to lie? You’re making that greedy face.”

Kurama comes closer and he tickled my wet lips with his tongue.

Yoshino: “Mm..”

Kurama: “I’ll give you as much as you want.”

My voice of surprise was stolen with his breath and I cling helplessly onto Kurama.

(.....Hmm....Nn.)

The root of my tongue, entwined and sucked, was sweet and made me numb.

Kurama: “You have that lovely face.”

Yoshino(blushing): “No....I.....”

(I have to stop, but---)

As I was wandering, Kurama’s hand sneaks under my kimono.

Kurama: “You’re hot. Is it because of the sun or....?”

Yoshino(blushing): “I don’t know...I don’t know....Mm.”

His bony hands traced the skin, stirring the heat within me.

(I have to resist, but I’m afraid I’m going to be swept away.)

The warmth of Kurama’s palm felt good on my burning body.

When a feverish thought told me to leave it all to Kurama.

Kurama: “With such a weakness for heat, you are no better than the fallen soldiers.”

(Fallen soldiers....oh!)

With these words, the strength returned to my hands.

I lightly pressed my palm on Kurama’s chest and looked up at him.

Yoshino: “Wait, Kurama! I’ve still got work to do today.”

(I don’t think he’ll listen to me, but I’ll talk to him anyway.)

Or that’s what I thought-----

Kurama: “.................”

(eh?)

Despite my worries, Kurama easily let go of my hand.

Yoshino: “Kurama?”

Kurama: “If your head is full of things, I don’t want to make love to you right now. It’s not a bad idea to fill your head with pleasure, but....”

Kurama’s hand straightens my collar back to how it was.

Kurama: “It’s no good in embracing you when you’re working so hard and you’ve run out of steam.”

(That’s...)

Yoshino: “Well, I can't lie about that.....”

Kurama(glares cutely): “If that’s what you think, then get a little more physical strength by the next time.”

As he glared at me, I chuckled.

Kurama: “Oh yeah, I almost forgot.”

Yoshino: “Eh?.....wow.”

Kurama pulls out a round object from somewhere and throws it at me.

(This is...)

It was a pear that fell into my hands.

Kurama: “It’s for you. I don’t like things that are hard to eat.”

Yoshino: “Th-Thank you.”

Kurama: “Eat it, and go to bed early tonight.”

After saying that, Kurama left my room.

Yoshino: “It’s so sudden. But....”

(I feel like Kurama is caring for me in his own way.)

When I think about it my chest tightened.

Yoshino: “Okay! Let’s get back to work!”

I clenched my fists in secret, hoping to live up to Kurama’s expectations.

......................

Few days have passed since then----

(First, I’m going to look around to see how everyone is doing, then I’m going to stock up on more medicines and.....)

Just as I was about to start my day’s work with a bang.

(!?)

Someone’s arms reached out from behind me and held me close.

Just as I am about to turn around, a hand covers my eyes.

Chilly fingers traced down my neck.-----

(Hmmm.....ah.....!?)

The tickling touch made me jump.

(These fingers...)

Yoshino: “.....Kurama?”

As soon as I muttered this, my body became free and my vision opened up.

Kurama(glares cutely): “When I said go to bed early, I didn’t mean sleep well and work harder.”

It was Kurama, after all.

Kurama: “I had mercy on you once....”

He closes the distance and looks at me with a disgruntled expression.

Kurama: “I’m surprised you’d go to the soldiers instead of coming and seeing me.”

A low whisper slipped down my neck, and Kurama’s teeth dug softly into my matted skin.

(Ah.....)

It was enough to make my body, accustomed to my affair with Kurama, feel faintly hot.

Yoshino: “Ku...Kurama! Wait...”

Kurama: “No more waiting. I’ve gone to the trouble of talking to Yoshitsune for your trifling sense of duty.”

Yoshino: “Talk?....Mm...hya..”

He flicked his tongue over my neck and looked up at me.

Kurama: “He told me to assume that there was no medicine man in the house and that today you would think only of me.”

Yoshino: “B-But!”

(I still have work left today.)

I tried to argue, but Kurama’s amused gaze interrupted me.

Kurama: “Yoshitsune said he would be happy to give you a rest.”

Yoshino: “Eh.”

Kurama: “Benkei and Yoichi are on my side too.”

Yuno: “Eeehhh!?”

Kurama: “Do you get it now? You should stop your work and deal with me.”

(So no one is there to take my side, huh.)

I was astonished, but Kurama, smiling at me, got closer.

Kurama: “You’ve been lamenting that you haven’t been to the beach. right?”

Yoshino: “How did you know....?”

Kurama: “Now shut up or I’ll bite your tongue.”

Kurama spreads his wings and picked me up lightly---

From the courtyard just outside my room, we flew straight up into the sky.

....................

When he lowered to the ground, my footwear treads on fine sand.

Yoshino: “I really came to the beach...”

Kurama: “Are you complaining? This is what you wanted in the first place, isn’t it?”

Yoshino: “I’m not complaining, I’m surprised.....see?”

What caught my eye was the black feathers of Kurama that had carried me here.

Yoshino: “Kurama, hide your wings. If anyone sees you----”

Before I could finish my words.

Kurama: “Yoshino.”

(Eh? .....Hmm.)

Kurama’s arm embraces me and kisses me passionately.

I started feeling dizzy from the heat of his tongue that attacks my weak spots.

(No. Not in public like this....)

I tried to stop him, but every time Kurama’s tongue moved, I felt like my thoughts were melting away----

One way or the other, the body is raised and I can’t standstill.

Leaning against Kurama in front of me, my lips were finally released.

Kurama: “Geez, you already can’t stand after just a kiss, can’t you?”

(Don’t call a kiss like that 'just a kiss'.)

I stumble to my feet and shouts to cover my embarrassment.

Yoshino: “That’s not the point! Kurama, don’t let anyone see you.”

Kurama: “Don’t shout. No one comes here.”

Yoshino: “...No one?”

Kurama lifted the corner of his mouth and ruffled his feathers, somewhat proudly.

Kurama: “This is a special cove that Yoshitsune told me about. Surrounded by steep rocks, it is inaccessible to ordinary people. Unless, of course, they’re like me, who can fly.”

(So that’s it.)

I looked around and sure enough, there was not a single person in sight.

Yoshino: “No wonder, it’s so quiet.”

Kurama: “I don’t like the noise. And I’m not going to let some human interfere my time with you.”

Yoshino: “Thank you, Kurama.”

Kurama: “You don’t have to thank me. I did this for myself.”

(I’m glad if that’s the case. It’s been a while since I’ve been alone with Kurama.)

As we walked, my footing which had been wobbly from the kissing, became more solid.

(Since we’re here, let’s enjoy the sea as much as we can!)

So I tried to get away from Kurama.

Kurama: “Wait, Yoshino.”

Kurama’s arms hugged me tightly around the waist, and-----

Yoshino: “Kurama?”

I was struck by the depth of the color in his eyes as he looked at me.

Kurama: “I brought you here because you wanted to come to the beach, but I don’t understand what's so good about watching saltwater. But if that’s what you like, I’m willing to go along.”

The closer our fringes touched, the closer Kurama’s face became.

Kurama: “I want you to teach me what's so exciting about the beach.”

Yoshino: “Kurama....”

I couldn’t help but be excited when Kurama begged for my words in earnest.

(He’s trying to reach me, even though he doesn't understand.)

I was happy and secretly excited to see him like this, which was unthinkable when I first met him.

(Hm?)

Without warning, the tightness around my waist suddenly loosened.

Yoshino: "Eh? Hey hey......!?"

Kurama: "Don't jump. It's hard to take it off."

(What's with the sudden change of mind....while I was spacing out!?)

In his haste, Kurama's fingers moved down to untie my obi.

I tried to hold onto his hand and tried moving away from Kurama, but his other hand that held my waist prevented me from doing so.

Yoshino: "Wait wait, Kurama!"

I was panicking, but Kurama holds me up easily and frowns as if he doesn't understand why I was panicking.

Kurama: "Why are you surprised? What's the use of this kimono if you're going to swim?"

Kurama cracked open my collar and ------

Yoshino: "I'm just going to soak my feet in the water and ahhh!"

When his fingers skimmed my breast, a high-pitched squeal escaped from me.

Kurama: "....Oh?"

Yoshino: "...So...don't....mmm...."

As soon as he pressed his lips down, his finger rubs my nipple, but this time with a will.

(Oh...No..not there...)

I held his arms to stop him, but I couldn't relax.

Kurama: "Do you think you can resist with that kind of power?"

Yoshino: "If you know I'm resisting, then stop....!"

Kurama: "I refuse. Resist at all costs, and let me enjoy myself."

A lecherous smile flatters my shame.

(Don't look at me with that face...)

His fingers continued to tease my breasts and my hips trembled sweetly as his tongue traced and caressed my neck and collarbone.

Kurama: "I wanna see, how will you look once I take it all off."

Yoshino: "That's...."

The heavy, honeyed sound of the voice drips down the edges of my ears and pools deep inside my body.

(It's been a while, I guess.)

(Even more, than usual, I can't seem to refuse Kurama.)

This was somewhat frustrating and I struggled to open my mouth.

Yoshino: "If you take it all off, then....."

Kurama: "Then?"

Yoshino: "T-The sun will burn my skin and it will hurt me later!"

At that moment, Kurama's hand stops.

Kurama: "...it will hurt?"

(Did my lame excuse...actually work?)

I looked at Kurama anxiously.

Kurama: "It's only my privilege to give you everything, even if it's pain."

Kurama murmured this soliloquy and stopped himself from removing my kimono.

(Thank god! My reason was lame but....)

I turned my back to Kurama and quickly fixed my kimono.

Yoshino: "That's it."

I straightened up and turned around to see Kurama looking at me with narrowed eyes.

Kurama: "Rejoice, I'm beginning to appreciate the sea. It feels good to tease you till your cheeks get red as far as the eye can see."

Yoshino(tomato red face): "Nn....!?"

(I don't think that's the beauty of the sea!)

Yoshino(tomato red face): "Kurama!"

Impulsively, I grabbed Kurama's hand.

Kurama: "What's wrong, Yoshino?"

Yoshino: "Um..... Okay! Let's go for a walk on the beach. Okay?"

Kurama: "....................."

I was more forceful than usual and Kurama seemed a little surprised.

Kurama: "It's unusually aggressive of you to take my hand. Fine, I'll walk with you."

He shook my hand back and smiled good-humoredly.

Our footprints, mine and Kurama's, dot the quiet empty surf.

(The wind feels good.)

Next to the love of my life, with the sea breeze caressing my cheeks.

I felt the tension of my busy life begin to unwind.

(How about Kurama? Is he enjoying himself?)

I looked at Kurama, who was walking quietly.

Kurama: ".................."

(.....Ah)

His crimson eyes looked straight at me.

(Was he watching me all this time?)

I stopped in my tracks stunned.

Yoshino: "Kurama, what's wrong?"

Kurama: "Yoshino."

He called my name as he approached and Kurama scooped my chin with his fingers.

Kurama: "................"

I saw my face being reflected in Kurama's eyes.

(Are you going to kiss me?)

My cheeks heat up slowly as I remembered the touch we just had.

Yoshino: "K-Kurama.."

Kurama: "----So what is it?"

Yoshino: "Eh?"

Removing his hand from my chin, Kurama shrugged his shoulders impatiently.

Kurama: "I asked you, to tell me what's so exciting about going to the beach."

(Oh, that....)

The shock of sudden loosening of my obi made me forget all about it.

Yoshino: "Exciting about the beach...huh...."

(There are many things, but what do I want Kurama to know the most?)

Kurama: "Hurry up. I won't let you go this time."

Yoshino: "I'm not going to run away. So-----"

After that, I told Kurama----

Premium END // Epilogue

I will post this for now and see, if I can finish the premium end before the event officially ends. If not then, when the revival comes later, I’ll finish it.

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #ikemen genjiden kurama #otome #cybird #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series story event

15 notes · View notes

sebastianshaw · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Munday! For new followers, on Munday sometimes I just post a bunch of personal things about myself and my life on Mun Monday like this, since it’s an appropriate day for it. I tag it “munday” and “mun monday” if you want to skip it! - I am honestly so in love with D’artagnan, I’m so glad I got him. He’s in my lap cuddling while I write this. - People are always talking about how everything in Australia wants to kill you because all they know is the spiders and snakes and sharks and saltwater crocs but there is also a TON of cute small animals no one talks about! Pademelons don’t want to kill you! Bilbys don’t want to kill you! Potoroos don’t want to kill you! Numbats don’t want to kill you! Bettongs don’t want to kill you! The abundant species of possums don’t want to kill you! Quolls would probably want to kill you but they’re not big enough so they don’t. - I saw someone post that there’s a big difference in how LGBT fans thirst for Lady Dimitrescu vs how straight fans do, how straight fans are all “mmm big tiddy mommy milkers step on me” and LGBT fans are all “I will love and cherish this woman and help raise her daughters”. . . . bruh, bullshit. I’m a full-ass homosexual woman and I want her to fucking sit on me with her massive dumper and choke me out like any pervy dude. And a lot of people in the notes, I am satisfied to say, was saying the same. Seriously, I get that LGBT people were misrepresented purely as perverts for so long, and often still are, but that doesn’t mean we’re all these wholesome pure angels devoid of carnality, sheesh. Whether or not you’re a nasty little sub like me thirsty for a mommy dom has nothing to do with orientation, and when you say “LGBT people aren’t like THAT” it’s honestly kinda damaging to those of us who ARE. Like, I’m not about to take it all personal-like, but there’s a lot of younger people already struggling with accepting their sexuality, now they’re hearing it’s wrong for an LGBT person to have kinks or overtly sexual feelings, come on. I don’t think this ONE POST is going to damage anyone on it’s own, but it’s part of this overall culture on Tumblr I see that says that “only gross dirty nasty cishets care about SEX ew not like the pure uwu queers who love on a deep ethereal level beyond the mere flesh” and like. . . yeah way to make teens struggling with sexual feelings feel even more isolated and weird and bad there. Let people be shamelessly thirsty for giant vampire mommy dommes, sheesh. - I’m watching this Turkish drama and I mentioned it to my mom, and she started talking about how there was a movie made “about a contemporary of mine” a young man from New York who went to Turkey and stole something from a mosque and got imprisoned with a life sentence and he met a Swedish boy in the jail and they become lovers and he escaped and I was just like WAIT WHOA WHOA YOU KNEW THIS GUY and she was like “well no but I felt like I knew him” when she watched the movie and they apparently like. . . .lived or went to school in the same area once. Mom. Mom that is NOT what a “contemporary” means, omfg. - The reason I’m watching a domestic drama, which is usually not my speed at all, is that I’m really into learning about different cultures, and for the past few years my focus has been Central Asia, Turkey, and Iran. I’ve always done this via academic-style research, articles and videos as well as reading firsthand accounts, such as Reddit AMAs, of people who live in those countries. But I read about this one, “Ethos”And while I’m sure a Turkish drama is no more realistic than an American one, I do think “Ethos” was a good one to pick because it focuses on people from MULTIPLE parts of Turkish society, from urban educated professionals to traditional rural poor people, a holy man and a woman vehemently opposed to headscarfs, a very rich playboy and a family struggling to get by, a woman dealing with severe mental illness, and apparently we’re going to get a closeted lesbian and a Kurdish family later too. So there’s a lot of diversity, not necessarily in the ethnic sense like you might look for in a US series but in terms of getting multiple perspectives of very different people in very different social strata that’s nonetheless all in or around Istanbul. -Also, I had been meaning to look up Azerbaijan for awhile, since like I said I’m focusing on that area of the world right now, and I finally got around to it yesterday. I learned about mud volcanoes, and that women got the right to vote there before they did in the United States! - I ran across this CLIP FROM FAMILY GUY and I was like “ha ha me” and then was like. . ..wait, that actually was me. I had to have a parapro with me at all times when I was in middle and high school due to my mental issues, and there was a period where my self-harming was so bad they had to go to the bathroom with me. And like. . ..holy shit, I’m doing so much better now. Took like 15 years but damn. I generally DON’T remember most of my pre-college life and I TRY NOT TO for obvious reasons, but in a weird way it was kind of HEARTENING to remember this to be like, wow, it did get better, I did get better. I really hope anyone reading this who is struggling with severe mental issues like I did, knows it can. And I know you don’t believe it right now because I didn’t, I know it’s impossible to convince you, I still kind of can’t believe it, but it CAN.

#munday #mun monday

8 notes · View notes

todoroki-dokie · 4 years

Note

Do you have any favorite Tododeku fics?

I definitely do!

prince & prince by Authoress (Todoroki is a prince. “Deku”, his new servant, is actually a spy for another kingdom. They work together to overthrow Endeavor’s plot against the other kingdoms and fall in love along the way. Much political intrigue. Beautiful writing and characterization. It’s my absolute favourite fic in any fandom)

Yesterday Upon The Stair by PitViperOfDoom (Canon divergence with queerplatonic tododeku. Deku sees dead people! Another top favourite of mine)

fake it till you make it by writedeku (“Yes. I would like it if you could pretend to be my boyfriend for the duration of the wedding,” Todoroki deadpans. “It would piss off my father.”)

call the fire department (i’m burning up with love) by Edgedancer (Fire alarm shenanigans. I don’t know how else to describe it. Hilarious)

All Good Heroes Should Be In Bed by Obsessed_As_A_Coping_Mechanism (The perils of not being the only one trying to visit your boyfriend past curfew)

cold kisses by thehibiscusthief (You know how you shouldn’t lick cold things or your tongue will get stuck to them? Yeah. Turns out the same thing applies to Todoroki’s face and Midoriya’s lips)

It Started Off With A Kiss, How Did It End Up Like This? by cricketmilk (Basically the same concept as the last fic, but you can never have too much of a good trope)

let it go by Authoress (I’m not gonna spoil it. All I’m gonna say is that it really should be tagged as “author chose not to use archive warnings” instead of “no archive warnings apply”)

My Shower is Broken, Can I Use Yours? by multifascinate (What the title says)

history has its eyes on you by aloneintherain (Social media fic, counting down the five months to Class 1-A’s ten year reunion)

saltwater room by reapers (Midoriya is invited to spend summer vacation at Iida’s family beach house. The only problem is his ex will be there with their new partner, and Midoriya is currently single. Awkward, but pretending to date Todoroki is the obvious solution)

Riddles in the Heart by PitViperOfDoom (Whoever answers the three riddles will marry Prince Shouto. Those who fail are executed. Midoriya gives it a shot)

Regret: The Story of Kirishima Eijirou by beachbby (Hilarious. That’s all I’m gonna say)

A Room with a View by InsominiacArrest (Midoriya thinks his neighbour should really invest in some curtains for his fancy glass walls. Or at least stop changing where Midoriya can see him)

Thirst by CrzA (Class 1-A has a water gun fight that turns into a water war, quirks allowed, and Midoriya is thirsty)

Sweater Weather by crispykrimi (Fluffy Softness ft. Mutual Pining and Cuddles: The Series)

Love and Other Allergens by thefrailtyofgenius (Flowershop AU, kind of. Cute, funny, has awesome character development. Unfinished but updates frequently)

#thanks for the ask :)#tododeku #bnha #fic rec #ask #anon

629 notes · View notes

whirlybirdwhat · 4 years

Text

our souls in the ocean forever will be - chapter 1

the sequel to till the sea gives up the dead now a series titled sing songs of the sea ! !

READ ON AO3

Summary:

Zoro’s earrings chime in his ear as he looks over the side of the boat, to deep, dark blue waters and small, foamy waves and…

And… to where…

A human- like face, smiling, sharp fanged and brilliant, stares back.

“SHIT!”

Luffy drowned, once, but his call still rings throughout the seas.

(Things change when the Ocean takes what is hers, but dreams remain the same - bold, unyielding, and reaching for the crown.)

—-

Chapter 1 - join me on the sea today - zoro

Zoro has been lost for about five days now, or so he thinks. It’s hard to tell when the sun is high and the winds keep changing with the tide. Time melds together out on the waves, and everyone knows the sea is a cruel mistress.

Many love her.

Few can say she loves them back.

(And even then, they are often lost to the sway of the tides.)

Once he realizes he no longer knows the time or the place, he gives up keeping count of the times the sun has passed overhead, or the times the stars have winked at him in the night. He merely focuses on his growling stomach and broken swords, and tries to keep Wado sharp as all she is used for is a kind of of spear fishing.

He’s thirsty, but he won’t die out here.

Not in this desert full of saltwater.

(Zoro’s smart, but in the kind of way that doesn’t get you killed. He knows how to survive, even if he doesn’t know how to live, so he will get through this.)

He has a promise to keep.

(His thoughts, like time in an hourglass, are melding and slipping together. He’s tired. Men were not made to be in the seas embrace without company this long. It’s dangerous.

Those that were made for this suffering isolation aren’t really men at all, and Zoro may be more than mortal but he is not of the sea. He is not meant for blue solitude.)

He won’t die.

Splash!

His head turns slowly to the front of his small, small dinghy.

Zoro doesn’t think that was a normal wave. Was it?

Splash!

There. Again.

Was he hallucinating?

(Kuina had told him to quit his moaning yesterday…)

Splash! Splash!

Fine. He’ll get up.

Zoro pushes himself up from his relaxed (half dead) position and, using the sides of the boat and Wadi Ichimonji, crawls his way to the front of the boat.

The sea is calmer than it has been, but his actions still tilt the boat from left to right. He doesn’t trust it, but he doesn’t capsize, which is enough for him.

Splash!

Shishishi!

Oh. He was definitely hallucinating if he was hearing laughter out at sea.

(Has he heard it before?)

A pause.

Splash!

Eh. He was already up. Might as well look.

Zoro’s earrings chime in his ear as he looks over the side of the boat, to deep, dark blue waters and small, foamy waves and…

And… to where…

A human- like face, smiling, sharp fanged and brilliant, stares back.

“SHIT!”

So.

There’s a face in the water. After Zoro didn’t stumble backwards, he had gone back for another look, and there it was again, smiling and scaled.

(There’s a scar under this mysterious person’s eye, sloping like ocean waves, and black hair drifting about their face. Handsome, in a youthful, drowning kind of way, but scales drift across their face and their eyes are so wide, so they cannot possibly be human.

Perhaps they were, once. Just not now.)

A hand, sharp tipped and surprisingly not webbed (or was it? it might have changed -), had sunk its hands into the soft wood of the dinghy. Something silver and sunset scaled and long had been making soft waves, something else spinning about the creature’s waist.

Whatever the creature was, it wasn’t leaving. Just pulling Zoro along with the ocean currents.

They haven’t spoken to him. Not at all, unless one counts the laughter.

Shishishi!

Usually, his hallucinations yell at him, or at least Kuina does.

Zoro’s trembling and weak from hunger, and doesn’t know what he’ll do if this thing is real and attacks him.

But honestly? Honestly, as the day wears on and the sun starts to set and his eyes adjust to the darkness instead of the blinding light – Zoro finds he is starting to not care.

It’s something different.

Something that is not monotonous ocean spray and hunger.

Zoro moves to the front of the boat instead of the back, and casually lays his head down at the bow, face looking towards the sky.

“Hey,” He says, to nothing at all, expecting splashing in return.

SHISHISHI! He gets in response, accompanied with a giant splash of water on his head.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” He shouts, and turns to his right, and there, grinning, is the face from the waters.

They’re leaning towards him, entire torso pulled out of the water, eyes bright and close in the dimming light, and they are smiling.

Still.

It’s like their face is fixed into it – that grinning D shaped smile. Frozen in a smile for eternity.

The creature pauses there, indescribable eyes glinting at Zoro as he slowly settles down in the dinghy when it is clear the creature isn’t doing anything.

Well, I did speak to them, is all Zoro thinks as he stares back.

The world seems to hang still in that moment, and Zoro can’t help but think that if this were any other creature, he would be terrified right now. Paralyzed.

(Or angry, slashing, in the way that his terror manifests – in demonic rage and sword.)

And he is, but in the same way he knows the darkness in his chest and the gleam of Wado’s blade despite the red covering her. It’s a familiar terror, one that he knows he can grasp in his hand or mouth or soul and conquer.

Zoro moves once more, and determines that he will never flinch again.

“Hey,” He slowly repeats, shifting upright in the dinghy.

The creature slides down in response, until their head is resting on crossed arms, settling on the rim of the dinghy. The dinghy lilts dangerously to the side but with a quick balancing act, Zoro slides to the other side and manages not to get dropped in the ocean.

Shishishi! the creature says, and it’s a hey, back to Zoro.

“Do you… want something?” He asks cautiously.

Nah! You gave me food, so I’m just bringing you to the Away Place!

“Away?”

To the shore! Its away.

“Ah. Wait – when did I give you – actually, never mind. So, you know how to get there?”

Shishishi! The creature’s grin widens if that’s physically possible and they laugh. Yeah! I think!

Zoro gives a nod and relaxes then in the center of the dinghy. The creature, sensing Zoro’s tiredness, if not the way the sun is now almost fully below the horizon, turns back to the front of the dinghy and slips into the water. A hand grips the front of the dinghy, rocking it a bit, but Zoro finds it soothing.

A lullaby by the water, rocked by a creature of the sea…

Sleep takes him fiercer than it has any other day on this voyage, and he does not spare a thought to think that possibly, possibly it could be because this sea creature makes him feel safe.

Zoro wakes to a hand shoving at his shoulder and the lack of rocking waves beneath his back.

He opens his eyes and oh – it’s the creature, again.

Damn, he needs a better name than creature.

Shishishi! We’re here! The away place!

“Land,” Zoro says, absentmindedly, and looks around the white sandy beaches.

Finally, he thinks, jumping out of the dinghy to bury his feet in the sand.

It’s hot, but it’s land.

Huh. He wiggles his toes, feeling sand slip between the cracks. He lost his shoes at some point. And its day time – midday really. How long did he sleep?

Eh. Whatever.

He makes sure Wado is secure by his side, checks the shattered pieces of the other, unnamed blades to see if they are salvageable, then turns inland.

Splash!

Oh.

Right.

Zoro turns around, kicking up sand and letting it stick to his wet, salty skin. Damn. He needs a shower. But first…

“You going to be good here?” He asks the gentle waves.

Shishishi! Yeah! The creature splashes whatever they have for a lower body beneath the water, a grin adorning their face still. (Their teeth are sharper, now, Zoro thinks.) They slide slowly back down into the waves till they are near completely submerged. Their bright eyes hairs, sea crusted and inky, float above the water, the ocean wave scar beneath their cheek splashing above the waterline.

Hidden, unless you were looking for them.

“Alright then. Be back soon.”

And with that, Zoro goes in search of booze and maybe food under the blazing sun of a strange island.

It is walking to some sort of civilization that Zoro realizes the creature did not actually speak – that their mouth, shaped in that sharp toothed smile, never moved, never changed, never spoke.

Zoro just knew, in the same way he heard Wado sing when he dueled, what the creature was saying.

He thinks he should be more worried about this.

He isn’t.

Huh, Zoro thinks, and wonders if the creature has a name.

Then he realizes that the creature is also waiting for him back at the dinghy, even though they don’t have to, and also that the creature probably ate his boots and the scraps of bone and fish heads Zoro wasn’t able to eat and tossed overboard in his journey on the dinghy.

Huh.

He’s so lost in thought that he barely registers knocking into the signpost for the island town’s tavern and blacking out either to dehydration, starvation, or the hit to the head.

It’s probably all three, to be honest.

Zoro was called a Sea Child once. He’s sure he still is back home, with the way Koushirou and the others watched his back as he set out in his boat.

Lost boy, they, the old ladies in the village, said in pitying tones, as he wandered around the island, he keeps looking for the sea.

The sea calls him, they would say, ushering Zoro away from the shore, we can’t let him close, not yet.

It’s why he can’t make sense of the land, they say, worrying over Zoro coming back with broken teeth and moss in his hair, he belongs to Her. The Sea.

Zoro knew it was bullshit. Is still bullshit, really.

(He doesn’t mention how ever since he was nine, every time he has gotten lost he has ended up by the shore, answering some unknown siren call.

It sounded like a laugh in his mind, sometimes.)

He’s no Sea Child. He’s heard the stories.

Sea Child, lost child, dancing by the waves…

The kids who go out to the shore and never come back, the women who sing to the sea and hear its call, the men who die at sea and smile in the ocean’s embrace.

There were people who didn’t belong to the land. Whose hearts were the Ocean’s from the second they breath the sea salt air.

Zoro belongs to nothing but the destiny he creates.

Sea child, siren woman, singing to the waters…

Suspicious, though, the way the stories never mention what happens to the Sea Children after they embrace the sea. What is like, to become one with the ocean? What is it like, after a not quite death?

Questioning this, Zoro finds he does not care – for answers or for gods, whatever the choice.

He was here now, a sword in hand. His dream is what truly matters, not the sea or the voice of the wind.

Sea child, fishing man, heading to the depths…

He’s not a Sea Child, no matter what the old ladies say, or the way he ends up by the water and feels less lonely or the way the sea is a comfort.

He’s not.

(As he sets out to sea for the first time and doesn’t feel the urge to jump in the ocean, he worries that something greater has its control over him.

After all, how can he explain the laughter of the sea breeze?)

Sea child, Sea Child, Sea Child lost…

The old lady he wakes up to is pretty nice, despite all her ramblings about him being sea-shook and the strange tides in the bay.

She gives him a bit of money for the bar and sends him on his way, so in thanks he drinks out the bar and eats half the food without spending a penny. A sword with the intent to use it will get you that kind of reputation.

He does, however, bring a bit of pie back to the lady’s house next to the bar.

The actual coins he trades for two steel blades that should hold up to all the bastards in the East. Its good enough till he can get his hands on some real blades.

He’ll need them, if he wants to be able to stand up against Mihawk and his Great Blade Yoru.

(Zoro is perfecting the three-sword style for a reason after all.)

He’s now walking back to the shore, belly sated and a pleasant buzz in his head, with a bag of meat over his shoulder. The old lady also made him take some water jugs with him, complaining about how dehydrated he was, so that’s on a rope over his other shoulder as well.

The sound of splashing and laughter reaches his ears as he draws closer to the shore, a Shishishi! ringing out amongst growls.

It all sounds happy. Still, Zoro quickens his pace and for once, meets his destination on the first try.

(Like a compass, like a Sea Child, he can always find his way to the shore, but it’s not the shore he’s drawn to, not at all.

It’s the horizon.

(It’s the laughter))

He arrives at the waves to a strange sight.

A sea king, golden scaled and small, playing with the creature a little way out in the bay. Both of them are splashing, looking so out of place amidst the calm waters. It’s almost funny, in a way. The creature is practically dwarfed by the sea king – who looks oddly puppy like – yet the sea king seems to defer to them as the bigger, stronger creature.

Then again, Zoro has no idea what half the creature looks like, so they may actually be longer than the sea king under the waves.

Shishishi! The creature seems to call out, laughter echoing across the ways and lilting in time with the waves, Shishishi!

Zoro can’t hear the sea king, but he assumes by the way the creature’s smile seems slightly wider that it is laughing in turn.

He walks closer to the shore, where his dinghy is still digging into the shore, and slings the food off his shoulder.

“Hey!” He calls, hand casually resting on his swords to keep them above the waves. “You! I brought meat!”

MEAT! The creature shouts, face still never changing, and they leave the sea king in a second to come barreling on to shore.

Literally, actually. They nearly miss Zoro, slamming head and shoulders first into the sand in their haste to reach the food in the bag.

“Hey! Chill out! I don’t want any, it’s all for you, dumbass.” Zoro maybe should not have called the sharp toothed sea creature a dumbass but if they haven’t eaten him now they won’t later.

(They never would in the first place, really.)

The sea creature takes it in stride anyway with that laugh again. Shishishi!

Zoro spares a smile, and tosses one big piece of meat to the sea king out in the waves. Hopefully that will stop the kicked puppy look it’s giving him.

It’s peaceful, for a moment, as Zoro settles into the sand. He didn’t get a shower at the village, but this is nowhere near the longest time he’s gone without, so he’s pretty sure he’s okay. He’s not dead at least, and now that he’s dry the sand doesn’t stick to his clothes, only to the feet still buried in the waves.

The creature shuffles for a moment, and pulls themself up out of the water almost entirely – all in order to drag the bag of meat even closer to them.

The shine of scales almost blinds Zoro, and he has to blink a few times to truly look at this creature.

Their torso is shorter than he’d thought, bare and toned in the light with scales the color of fire and silver drifting up from the back. (And drifting, drifting, scales never in the same place for more than a moment.) A fin, vibrant and color shifting, sits folded upon their back and is disappearing into their skin the longer Zoro looks. Clawed web hands, dripping with salt water and red juices, retract into tanning, brown skin – the claw tips remaining, sharp and deadly.

A tail, long, slender, and powerful drifts from the creature’s body and out into the waves, melding into the waves as they crash over them.

Zoro spares a thought to think mermaid? Before realizing what ever this creature is it is more than myth or legend, or the very real people from under the sea.

It’s in the danger, this creature should be emanating, their tail is spiked and deadly, barbed, beautiful fins fading into the sand and waves in colors of the sun. It is nothing sweet or calm or safe – just fatal shine, drifting out to the waves.

(Every time Zoro blinks, it is as if the color of the scales has shifted – like the sea, ever changing, ever more dangerous, dark as ocean deep or green as tropic waves in the same moments.)

Yet – his eyes flash three times and there is no tail, just two legs, covered by shorts and a sash, torn, like from some sunken sailor.

A mirage – a hallucination, still? – but nothing is right about this creature.

Zoro can’t make sense of it all. Everything changes –

Except for that smile and that ocean sloped scar.

Even as the creature devours the food and opens their maw bigger than thought possible, it is still in the shape of that smile.

(Zoro wonders why.)

Saltwater drips off limbs and makes little splats into dry sand, marking where fins were and weren’t. The creature shakes their head and more water flies, hitting Zoro in the face yet – in the same motion, something more obvious, more important, more constant that the smile and ocean scar.

A straw hat, as glowing as a crown, draped across their back with a ribbon like blood wrapped around it.

(So human and alive, unlike everything else about them. This hat was not pulled from a drowning man. This hat was pulled from a dream on fire.)

The creature pauses for a second, as if sensing Zoro’s unwavering stare.

Their head drifts to look at Zoro, slow, the sun highlighting the points of their face and the wave of their hair. In an instant, they make eye-contact with Zoro, and it is as if the breath is pulled out of him by a siren.

He’s seen their eyes of course, before, in the moments the face smiled at him from the waters.

Just not like this.

This creature –

(Webbed hands drifting between human and sea, a smile like ocean depths and fear-)

This sea creature –

(Have you heard the tales? Of those that belong to the sea and no one else? Of those that hear the legends of the waves and know that they are real, like death and life?)

Isn’t a sea creature, not entirely, no -

(Zoro was called lost to the waves, once.)

They’re a Sea Child.

(And Zoro is lost to their pull – to their human-not-human body and ocean soul.)

He’s never quite wondered before, what Sea Children look like.

All that ever has come to mind is people with lost faces setting out to sea. Not what came after. Not what it looks like when the Ocean claims you.

(Koushirou, with a firm line to his lip, had mentioned the Drowned once. Bloated bodies of dead men and women and children – dead bodies of sailors swallowed up by the sea, that still reach up towards the light.

Run, he had said, if you see them.

Koushirou didn’t believe in legends, but he had an old boat from a distant country by the shore. There were scratches in hull made by gouging hands.

They weren’t Sea Children, not even close, but the stories said they were Claimed.

When a dead body from the sea washed up on the shores one day, Zoro had wondered if that was the fate of Sea Children.)

Now, he knows.

This Sea Child changes with the flow and ebb of the waves. A human drowned alive and still breathing, still loving, still dancing with the tide. Saltwater veins and coral eyes, skin breaking apart in scales and the way of tides.

The Ocean born again – that is what a Sea Child is. A child born to the land of the waters.

Zoro will never forget the Ocean’s claim – not now.

Shishishi! The Sea Child laughs, scales drifting across their face like sundrops on waves. You see now!

“Yeah…” Zoro says, and passes the sea king another stick of meat. “I see. The Ocean nice?”

The best! The Sea Child wiggles further up on the beach, tail seemingly gone leaving them to dig bare feet into the wet sand. You should listen to her sometimes.

“No thanks,” Zoro says to the Sea Child, and lays back on the shore. With four limbs, the Sea Child seems only a little younger than him, a little shorter, but power comes in waves off of them, like the shore in a storm.

Zoro shakes his head, and tries to distract himself from the thoughts of ocean, ocean, ocean – if he’s not careful, he’ll be wrapped in her sway eventually. He’s already wrapped in this Sea Child’s sway, if he can hear their voice.

The Sea Child chomps on the bone in their hands and swallows it whole with an odd slurping noise. Zoro raises an eyebrow, and is met with that laugh - Shishishi! - again.

(He’s gotten used to it, like he’s used to the chime of earrings in his ear and the swish of a sword. Constant, natural, and loved.)

Belatedly, he realizes he still hasn’t gotten the name of this Sea Child. Names are important, especially those of those lost to the sea, if they still remember them. It is better than calling them Sea Child forever, at least.

Well, it’s polite to introduce yourself first, isn’t it?

“Hey. My name’s Roronoa Zoro. I’m going to be the World’s greatest swordsman.”

(His name will echo across the heavens, but even children know that the sea only hears the will of men.

After all – what is a name, to a dream?)

The Sea Child stares at him, grin ever wider, and does not laugh. Instead, they reach behind their back and pull the straw hat up upon their head.

I know.

(How? Zoro wants to ask but it doesn’t even matter, does it?)

My name is Monkey D. Luffy! they say, loud and victorious and sure, and I’m the man who will be KING OF THE PIRATES!

The way he says it is like a promise and the way the unsaid words echo across the world is like a golden bell.

Zoro looks at this Sea Child who will be king, and feels something settle in his chest.

(This is the call of the sea – to dreams, to life, to adventure, to crew. Nothing less is equal, and nothing more is greater. It simply is, and it is a call that sings in every heart and every soul.

This is call of the sea.

And it will not be ignored any longer.)

“A pirate, huh?” Zoro’s own smile turns feral. “Where’s your crew?”

Shishishi! You’re the first! Luffy’s smile is kind but his eyes look into Zoro’s and take.

Zoro has no objection.

He stands, hand steady on his blades, and lets the wind chime through his earrings. “Then know this, Pirate King. If you ever stand in the way of my dreams, I will cut you open and leave you to the earth.”

He knows it won’t happen. The sea does not stand in the way of the dreams of the strong, and Luffy is the sea, or a small portion of it.

Still, Luffy does not falter.

Shishishi! He says, a Fine with me! Ringing loud in Zoro’s head. The Pirate King should have the world’s greatest swordsman by his side.

He stands to face Zoro head on, and he’s smaller than Zoro but his presence is just like the sea. Bright, giant, and everything. He reaches out a hand and Zoro clasps it in his own.

A crew of two, formed in an instant.

(It’s how legends start, anyway.

What’d’ya say to turning the world upside down with me?)

The sun shines brighter, the sea splashes higher, and the sea king lets out a victorious howl.

When Zoro lets go of Luffy’s hand, he knows he’s found his place.

“So,” he says, as Luffy turns back to the sea they will soon conquer, “Where to now, Pirate King?”

Where else? To the Grand Line! To Adventure! Shishishi!

Luffy steps forward into the sea then, laughing and changing all at once, and Zoro has no choice but to follow the man who will be king.

He climbs in the dinghy, slinging the water and remnants of food into the bottom, and shoves off into the water. Luffy grips the edge of the dinghy and drags Zoro forward, other hand gripping the edge of the sea king’s fur.

Starving, Zoro did not think he would end up being pulled by a Sea Child and a sea king into the unknown, but now…

Now, Zoro looks to the sun and dreams of victory.

Shishishi!

(Zoro is not a Sea Child. He does not belong to the waves and he does not answer the Ocean’s call. He belongs to Luffy, and the cry of the king is the only on he will bow too.

It’s the way of the world, after all.)

Splash….

“The sea’s happy today, isn’t it Makino?”

“Aye, captain…. I think Luffy might be happy today.”

(A tear trails down a cheek, not hidden by a straw hat.)

“Perhaps he found his dream, aye?”

“Sesese! Perhaps!”

(The sea splashes at the feet along the beach, as a pirate’s memorial is held for a boy who never set out to sea.

For Luffy, the small jolly roger on the beach seems to say, for the King.)

#one piece #opau #opfic #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #op #whirlywhat #whirlywrites #yeah I killed luffy then brought him back what of it #luffy #zoro #makino #shanks #the ocean #au #sing songs of the sea #:DDDDD #opfanfic

44 notes · View notes

dont-f-with-moogles · 2 years

Text

The Farthest Sea

The Farthest Sea Word Count: 1249 Characters: Levi x Hange, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Sasha, Connie Canon universe

“It’s freezing! I-incredible!”

There came a howl over to their right where Connie was hurling handfuls of saltwater into Sasha’s eyes. Jean, tired and thirsty from the long ride, reprimanded them both.

“Why do you two always have to act like such idiots!” he seethed, stooping over the glistening water and cupping a handful of it to drink.

Only Levi remained by the base of the cliff.

“Hmmm. What could that be?”

“Hey Hange!” Levi called out from the sanctuary of the cliffside. “You shouldn’t touch it. It might be poisonous.”

“Wow!” Hange gasped, swinging around to Levi with their discovery. “Look!”

Levi, who had not stirred, narrowed his eyes in disgust. “The hell is that? Titan shit?”

Hange had hardly opened their mouth to correct him before he relented. “I know, I know. Titans don’t defecate…”

“How have you got two of them?”

“I think they like me!” Hange grinned.

“At least the air here is clean…” he conceded. “...and the view isn’t bad…”

“...it’s incredible, isn’t it?,” Hange answered finally. Then a smile crept across their face. “You should see it from here!”

“I’m fine where I am,” Levi remarked coolly.

“Like hell it is!” Levi snarled as they grappled, “you just want to torture me with that stuff!”

He conceded by one step before quickly unlatching the metal clasp at his shoulder. Hange, who had been tugging at the material, stumbled over backwards with his cloak in their hands.

“I’m holding you responsible for getting that cleaned, Shitty Glasses.”

“Huh?! Get that filthy shit away from me!”

Hange’s breathless laughter was in his ear.

“So Levi, what do you think?”

“I think I’m going to drown you in this damn lake,” Levi snarled.

“Ah, but do you really want to risk being in the water for that long, Levi? It only takes one piece of poisonous horse shit to touch you…”

“Mmm?” Hange glanced to their right. Eren had waded out into the water, ahead of Armin. He was pointing to the horizon… to where, according to Grisha’s memories, their enemies lay. Hange dimly wondered how their world might be perceived by someone waiting from across the farthest sea. Did these same divisive waters appear as blue and beautiful to them? Did they ever look upon the island of walls as a prison filled with innocents? Or were they forever fearful that these caged beasts would one day escape their long entrapment…? ... Hange weighed these same thoughts years later, from where they stood upon the dockside. This time the waters looked different. The sea stretched out before them, an infinite plane of blue burnished with red light. A few feet away, the hydroplane was grounded and bathed in heat. The island stood a little beyond forever. Hange had never before recalled feeling so far away from home. For now, it was a place she would never return to.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #attack on titan spoilers #levihan #ugh I will never get over these two #my writing #levi x hange #levi ackerman #hange zoe #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #jean kirstein #connie springer

8 notes · View notes

malkumtend · 4 years

Text

I Like Your Laugh - Chapter 9.

“So?” Squirrelpaw began, horribly masking the exhaustion from her voice. “Is this what it’s always like in Windclan?”

Crowpaw turned, staring at the molly stonily. “Yes. But normally we haven’t been travelling for days on end.”

“Hmm.” Squirrelpaw was not impressed by his answer. “So, no advice on how to deal with this heat then?”

“No.”

The Thunderclan molly groaned, her head dipping down towards the ground again. It was getting too tiring to even hold her head up. It had been a while since they had left the forest bordering the Twolegplace, and they’d been traveling on the open country hills since Sunhigh. Now, it was getting close to moonrise. The blue sky had slowly changed into a burning orange, but the heat of the sun persisted, surely draining every inch of energy out of the group as they continued to walk in the direction of the glistening yellow orb.

Every cat was clearly beginning to tire. They could practically sense the pain in each other’s paws and feel the growing heat soaking in their fur. Each walked with low heads and tails, even Brambleclaw was starting to look like he was losing his breath, despite his evident desire to look strong at the lead of the group. Squirrelpaw almost found it admirable, despite his general attitude.

But it wasn’t like she could speak. Her mouth was dry and she found herself licking her chapped lips after every fox-length in order to keep a part of herself cool. Starclan, she was thirsty. But there would be no water on these hills; not even a single drop.

Brambleclaw’s ear had flickered at her and Crowpaw’s conversation and he looked back, eyes narrowed but too dry with fatigue to look remotely fearsome. “There’s no use complaining about it.” He said gloomily, “We just have to carry on until moonrise.”

“And then what?” Stormfur remarked, “Do we even have any idea how far away the sun-drown place is from here?” No cat needed to answer him. The grey warrior sighed, “I can’t even smell anything anymore, just the hills. It could be a moon before we even get there.”

Out of the tense silence that followed, Brambleclaw bared his teeth at the warrior.

“It won’t do you any good to say that!” The brown tom snapped; his head twisted away with a rugged groan. “There’s no way we can turn back now!”

Stormfur let out a soft breath, blinking sluggishly, “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

Brambleclaw scoffed gruffly, “I know you’re thinking about it.”

Stormfur didn’t respond. Of course he was thinking about it. Every cat, no matter how little they wanted to admit it, had thought about the defeat of giving up and turning back. None of them wanted to consider it, but after so much endless, aimless walking the heat and pain was slowly cracking at their resolve which was now as delicate as a freshly laid bird’s egg.

Squirrelpaw looked around at the group, apart from Brambleclaw, everyone looked ready to drop where they were in exhaustion. She felt a mixture of respect and irritation for her clanmate. She could understand how much he wanted to believe in Starclan and follow through on their quest, but he just couldn’t accept how drained the rest of them were. Squirrelpaw was not going to give up either, but she could see the hunger clouding the cats that would soon lead to further injuries if they weren’t careful.

Just behind her brother, Tawnypelt tried to sound supportive. “Brambleclaw, no cat wants to turn back. We’re just tired.”

“I’m tired too.” Brambleclaw said, turning to his sister hotly. “But we can’t afford to suspect the worst, or else it’ll be over for all of us.” His tone hollowed and he looked towards the sun again with a broken pattern of breaths.

The group could tell he was convincing himself more than them.

Squirrelpaw felt Crowpaw nudge her. She flushed absently. “Guess he’s starting to realise how hard it is being a leader.” The tom mewed softly.

“Mhmm.” Squirrelpaw murmured. It was becoming more and more obvious just how stressed Brambleclaw had become; it wasn’t just how quick to temper he was. His proud structure had sagged with his neck slanting like a dead branch. His steps had become small, sapping every time his paw hit the hot grass. The confidence he had shown in front of Purdy was gone, now he looked just as hopeless as cats he was trying to lead.

But he was still forcing himself to look strong, which made the weight of his movement so much heavier.

“Still, maybe we should stop to hunt at least.” Feathertail asked. The normally soft voice was jaded and dry. Squirrelpaw felt her stomach groan at the mention of hunting. No cat had eaten since that morning and they all smacked their lips at the thought of warm meat and blood.

“I think we should make some more ground before moonhigh.” Brambleclaw explained, frowning at the Riverclan cat.

Feathertail shrugged, “What’s the difference? We know which way we need to go and we’ve already said that we don’t know how far it will be before we even get close to the sun-drown place.”

Brambleclaw looked to his side, “Maybe, but-”

“The path there isn’t going away, Brambleclaw.” The cats all felt a prickle of surprise. Feathertail wasn’t the kind of cat to normally interrupt anyone. “But we all need to eat something soon. You must see that.”

Brambleclaw looked determined to argue further, then his mouth closed as he noticed the cat’s begin to mutter between themselves in agreement. His eyes narrowed, but his gaze dropped away. Squirrelpaw hoped that, outside of his pride, he was able to admit to himself that he was as starved as the rest of them.

She could hope. But he would never show it.

He huffed, but he kept his words calm. “Okay, yeah, you’re right.” He admitted with what could be assumed as self-righteous graciousness. “We need our strength, I’m sorry Feathertail.” He seemed genuine but it was hard for Squirrelpaw to tell by how Brambleclaw’s tail waved crossly across the grass.

“You don’t have to apologise.” Feathertail mewed, either too tired or too kind to create an argument. Brambleclaw nodded, a sheepish look in his eyes.

“I suppose we should split up then?” Stormfur asked, already walking over to where his sister was, hope shining in his eyes. “Hunt for ourselves?”

Feathertail smiled at her brother but found herself looking over where Squirrelpaw and Crowpaw stood. Squirrelpaw tittered, waving her white paw at the Warrior. “Go on! Me and Crowpaw will be fine.”

Wait…

Her and Crowpaw… alone. Had that thought always made her insides scurry like a dormouse?

She shook her pelt. It was just hunting with her friend, they’d done it before, it wasn’t any different this time.

Feathertail glanced up at Crowpaw, as if waiting for his confirmation. Maybe hoping that he wanted her to come along, Squirrelpaw wondered. She internally screamed at herself. Oh, Fox-Dung, so that had returned!

Crowpaw’s tail swung in thought, softly meeting Feathertail’s gaze and opening his mouth to say something. Then he glanced over at Stormfur’s stony expression and his mouth closed. He thought again. The apprentice smirked. “Yeah, go ahead. It wouldn’t hurt Stormfur to see how a Warrior can catch prey bigger than a kit’s claw.”

“Go chew on your tail, frog-brain!” Stormfur snapped, his fur prickling with fury. His head dropped when Feathertail giggled at the apprentice’s joke.

The Riverclan molly seemed to think it over a moment longer, then she smiled at her two friends and turned to her brother with a comforting purr. “Come on, Stormfur. Don’t lose your whiskers over that.”

The grey tom growled once more, but he soon calmed down as he followed his sister. “We’ll go over this way.”

“See you later!” Squirrelpaw called, watching as the white and grey pelts shrank in the grassland.

“You’ll be off with him then, I suppose.” A bitter voice hissed.

Squirrelpaw could feel Crowpaw’s fur rise even before she faced Brambleclaw. She’d really hoped she wouldn’t have to argue with him anymore today. The Tom’s frown was stiff and discomforting, amber eyes gawking sharply into her.

“Brambleclaw.” Tawnypelt warned, padding up to him cautiously.

“Is there a problem with that?” Squirrelpaw goaded, her tail curling as she challenged the tom’s stare.

Brambleclaw’s lip curled, “Oh no, of course not.” Brambleclaw gibed, looking away half-heartedly. One eye travelled to meet her, glowing inside an ominous slint. “It’s just good to see where your loyalties lie, that’s all.”

Squirrelpaw’s gaze iced.

‘Especially a loud mouthed one.’

‘She didn’t help herself, after all, shaking like a leaf.’

‘I don’t need to explain myself to you, you’re an apprentice.’

Anger tightened Squirrelpaw’s stomach. Despite everything he had said to her, she had tried her best to be nice to him. And he had rejected every kindness she’d offered.

Yet somehow, he found a way to blame her.

“What did you say?!” Crowpaw started forward, his face full of bloodlust. The apprentice’s claws unsheathed and Squirrelpaw could sense he was determined to rake his claws across the Warrior’s throat. As much as she wanted to see her clanmate pay for his words, it would do no good for Crowpaw to spill blood when he was clearly exhausted.

She stepped ahead of the apprentice, ushering him back with her tail. She could feel Crowpaw’s muscles tense, but he kept still. She stared on at her clanmate, as cold and bitter as saltwater. “You don’t have the right to say that to me.” She hissed, already beginning to turn away. She didn’t have to waste her time on him. She prodded Crowpaw with her tail, beckoning him to follow. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brambleclaw notice this with a hiss of hurt and disgust.

“I’m your clanmate and a Warrior; I think I do!” The tom snarled.

“And I told you before,” Squirrelpaw meowed tonelessly, “I’d treat you like that when you acted like it. Until then, I don’t give a mouse-tail what you think.” She gave him a passive glimpse. “Besides, we’re in the moors. Crowpaw will be more use here than you’ve ever been.”

Momentarily, Squirrelpaw questioned if she’d gone too far after a clear upset sting panged across her clanmate’s face. But the vicious snarl he created within seconds made her throw away that idea into the dirtplace.

Also, it did feel wonderful when she saw Crowpaw grin at her remark.

“Oh yes, you’ll make a fine warrior with that attitude! We’ll see how much those flowers mean when we get back!” Brambleclaw yowled after her. Squirrelpaw held her tongue, ignoring the Warrior. Though she could make out the frantic scolding of Tawnypelt as she sauntered away.

“You’re one to talk about attitude!” Crowpaw spat back heatedly, baring his fangs at the Warrior one last time before following Squirrelpaw. “Rabbit-brain.” He muttered under his breath.

“Don’t waste your breath.” Squirrelpaw advised, though her tail curled in appreciation at how quick Crowpaw was to defend her. “With this sun, you’ll need it for hunting.”

The dark grey cat grumbled, “He acts like he’s a mentor! I can’t stand it!” Crowpaw whipped his tail violently behind him, “He thinks he’s so special, ordering us all around as if he’s a Deputy!”

Squirrelpaw wouldn’t ever disagree with the cat. Brambleclaw had just been getting worse as the days went on. She didn’t understand why the others weren’t as bothered about it as her or Crowpaw. “You don’t need to tell me twice. Be thankful he’s not your clanmate.”

Squirrelpaw felt her face heat up when Crowpaw looked back up at her again. His brow furrowed, creased with protective conviction. “I swear to Starclan, if he treats you like that when we get back to the forest, you make sure you tear his fur off. It’d be my pleasure to help you do it!”

Squirrelpaw laughed, flashing a brash grin. “Thanks, but I’m on it. When I become a Warrior, I’ll make sure he knows he can’t treat me like a kit anymore!” She wasn’t afraid of the tom anymore, the only reason she hadn’t clawed his ears already was that she wouldn’t allow herself to cause divisions in the group over his sake.

Crowpaw made a sound that seemed close to that all to wonderful laugh. “Good! I’d rake through the dirtplace if it meant I could see that fool get a mark or two on his pelt!”

“Well, when you find a rabbit, you can pretend it’s him!” Squirrelpaw quipped, rubbing his pelt against his playfully.

Crowpaw gave a mock gasp of horror, “Are you hare-brained?! That would be too cruel to the rabbit.”

They both laughed with each other. It was becoming more normal.

They padded away, both internally promising to not go too far for fear of losing the scent of the group. That turned out to be easier than expected. Stormfur had been right; the sun had seemed to dry out the air around them, making the scents faint and difficult to cling to. Squirrelpaw let out a soft breath, it was going to be hard to hunt when they couldn’t find prey scents to begin with.

“Anything?” She whispered hopefully. Low to the ground, Crowpaw shook his head but didn’t relax in the slightest. His pelt was on edge, prepared, waiting for something.

“Just wait a moment.” Crowpaw murmured, his whiskers directed high to the air.

Squirrelpaw watched transfixed, trusting. The grey cat’s whiskers drifted with the light breeze of the wind, imitating the swaying grass, then as if turned by the shifting tide, the wind changed, dragging Crowpaw’s whiskers with them. His tail twitched and he crouched down; his whiskers brushing along the grass.

Straightening up, eyes fixed, Crowpaw faced Squirrelpaw again. “This way.” He concluded, nudging her with his tail to follow him. Squirrelpaw’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“How do you know?” She sniffed the air again and couldn’t find anything.

Crowpaw smirked, cocky but not incredibly condescending. “In the moors, the scents go across the grass with the wind. All you need to do is be facing the right direction and you can find prey that are tree-lengths away.”

Squirrelpaw blinked, “You’re pulling my tail. I’ve never heard of that.”

“You don’t need to. This land isn’t your home.”

True, but Squirrelpaw still wasn’t convinced. She must have looked it too, as Crowpaw stopped walking.

“Give it a try.” He said, too composed to be lying.

Squirrelpaw tried her best to imitate what she saw, waiting for the wind to stroke her whiskers before pressing them near to the grass. She didn’t need to wait a moment before her nose twitched at a faint trace of prey.

“Fox-dung.” She was relieved, but she still whined.

“You were saying?” Came the good-natured jeer.

Squirrelpaw rose brashly, now stuck on the same trail Crowpaw had found. “If you need the wind to hunt properly, it’s no wonder you’re so skinny.” She said, sticking out her tongue at the apprentice, before walking ahead, taking the lead.

“Yeah, that’s real mature.” He followed her, strides short and comfortable.

But even though Squirrelpaw was trying to look disinterested, she had to praise Crowpaw’s technique when it had granted them with a large rabbit, caught and dispatched within minutes.

Squirrelpaw licked the blood from her fangs, quivering as the tasted gave her a sudden burst of energy. “That’s better.”

Crowpaw looked over the prey, glancing around with a stiff expression. He faced the air again, but his whiskers barely swayed at all. “The wind’s dying down, it’s going to be harder to catch another if that sun gets any worse.” His relaxed look didn’t match his next words at all. “You want to share this one?”

Smiling, laughing, sharing. Squirrelpaw was finding it harder to believe this was Crowpaw but it didn’t stop her from taking up his offer within the first beat of her pacing heart.

With every bite, Squirrelpaw felt her tiredness ease, and her muscles begin to stiffen comfortably. Hopefully, the others had been just as successful with their hunts; it was going to be a long night otherwise. In the, admittedly too often, glances she’d snuck at Crowpaw, she found that he was gulping his share down as quickly as he could. Already he’d stripped one leg down to the bone.

“You going to chew any of that, Crowpaw?”

After gulping down half a foot, he answered. “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry, more far off than anything. “You take your time, I’m in no rush to see your clanmate again.”

She felt like she was meant to laugh. She didn’t. “What’s up?” From the dim gaze to the twitching whiskers, Squirrelpaw was able to catch onto when something had Crowpaw riled. She still didn’t know if she entirely knew what to do to cheer him up.

He didn’t answer straight away, only after a stoic pause with a bite and a tear and a swallow. “How long is it going to take now?”

Squirrelpaw bit softly on the inside of her cheek. Of course. “I wish I knew.” She took another bite, hoping the flavours would sate the uneasiness creeping on her back. “It’s like they said earlier, it could be days, it could be moons in fact.”

“Well that’s comforting.”

“You asked.”

Crowpaw swallowed less forcefully, “I just wonder what’s going on back at home.”

Squirrelpaw stared at the floor, trying to imagine what it was like back in Thunderclan; what was it like for her parents or for Leafpaw? She could only hope for the best. She couldn’t think that Starclan was going to send them on this journey only for it to mean nothing in the end.

Well, she hoped not at least.

Hoping. There was a lot of it these days.

“I know how you feel.” Squirrelpaw purred, “But we can’t just lose faith in Starclan. We’ve got to get there, no matter how long it takes, even if that does mean spending moons with your grumpy face.”

“Hey!” Cropaw scolded, though his voice was soft. “I haven’t lost faith in Starclan. I’m just sick of going nowhere.”

“Well, there’s a somewhere at the end of nowhere, Rabbit-brain.” Squirrelpaw chirped. She was as sick of everything as he was, but she had to stay positive about it, especially when confronted with a cat as moody as her friend.

Crowpaw frowned, tilting his head at her. “Doesn’t do us much good until then, though, does it?”

“Well it’s all we’ve got for now.” Squirrelpaw said, swallowing her words like a bone. It was aggravating, but it would do no good to lie. “Just try to relax and you might be able to sleep for once.”

Crowpaw sniffed but he also laughed. Squirrelpaw counted that as a win. He pulled away from the bones now littered in front of him. “I’m done. Don’t rush for me, I can wait.”

“Oh, you’re such a gentletom.” Squirrelpaw said with a mocking reverence, ignoring that she actually meant it. Crowpaw stuck his tongue back out at her, but his eyes were warm and inviting. Squirrelpaw felt her heart stutter again.

What was going on with her? It was becoming way too frequent now that this tom could cause her brazen attitude, that she had perfected over moons and seasons, to crack even a little. It had never been something that hit her even once before, never to this degree at least.

But as he looked, not stared, just a the few glances he struck her with, as she ate, Squirrelpaw’s face felt like water boiling under the sun of Crowpaw’s grin.

It maybe shouldn’t have been a surprise to her. This cat hadn’t been the Crowpaw she’d known before in any way or whisker. That Crowpaw had been an enemy. This cat was one she would maybe even call one of her best friends.

Maybe that was why she didn’t want this journey to end so soon.

It was nice that the flower would be there to remind her of her friends, but Squirrelpaw knew it would never be the same. Not really anyway. Even if they met through patrols or gatherings, it would be under a thousand watching eyes, all judging and making sure they never went to far against their loyalty to the clan.

It’s just good to see where your loyalties lie.

Her hunger suddenly faded underneath, perhaps motioned on by the clouds drifting above them, minutes from blocking the sun. More likely perturbed by reality.

She wanted to tell herself that being a warrior was her greatest duty, and that completing this journey was all that she was ever meant to focus on. That was clearly why Starclan favoured Bramblelclaw over her, anyway. She had the chance to prove to her clan how she could and would live up to the name of her father. She could be his reflection rather than his shadow.

But, when this was all over, what would it be that she’d remember?

She didn’t see this journey as an opportunity to prove herself anymore, she now looked back on the past, all that she could focus on were the friends she had made.

Friends that would naturally leave.

Did that thought hurt them as much as it did her? She’d probably never know.

And it would be best not to ask. Just because she had problems left to sort out with her clan didn’t mean she had to drag other innocent cats into it. She was strong enough to deal with it on her own.

“Are you finished?”

Squirrelpaw looked up to Crowpaw’s patient expression. She examined the prey, there wasn’t much left now, besides she was full enough.

“Yeah, let’s get back to the others.” She stretched her stiff back, sighing from the sudden feeling of her full stomach. “Much better.”

Crowpaw stood up as well, leading the way with a shrewd sneer. “So, it looks like you Thunderclan cats actually could learn from us after all, huh?”

Squirrelpaw scoffed, her tail flaring. “Yeah, yeah. What do you want? A stroke on the ears?” She pouted at him. “I’d consider us even after I was the one who taught you how to stalk instead of swallowing muck.”

Crowpaw’s smile dropped, he groaned to his side. “You’re never going to let that go.”

Squirrelpaw leapt beside him with a smirk. “Besides, I’ve been able to catch your prey now. I bet you’d never be able to catch ours.”

“What? You mean I’ll never have mole breath? Oh, what a shame.”

“Try birds, flea-brain.” Squirrelpaw snapped back.

Crowpaw shrugged, his tail swaying coolly. “Eh, rabbits make for a better meal.”

Oh, he wasn’t getting away that easily! “Spoken like a true tail-chaser.” Squirrelpaw perked her nose up for effect.

It worked. Crowpaw’s right eye twitched and his smile looked much more artificial. “If I wanted to catch one of your little sparrows, I could! But there’s no trees for them to roost on near Winclan!” He insisted, making use of the small height he had above Squirrelpaw as he looked down at her.

“Hmm, I’ve heard better excuses.” She winked. “Why don’t you show me?”

Crowpaw’s brow furrowed, “How am I supposed to show you? There’s no trees around here!”

Squirrelpaw walked on as if disinterested, her tail curling under Crowpaw’s chin. “Oh, don’t worry, Crowpaw. You don’t need to make anymore silly excuses for me. I won’t judge you.” Her voice sounded as if she had drained all the sugar out of a stalk and was now spitting it onto the grey apprentice.

Crowpaw drew a sharp breath, now fully pulled into Squirrelpaw’s trick. “Okay then.” He drawled; one eye cold on the molly. “Then, most divine robin catcher, please do tell me; how do you such amazing cats catch those birds? I’ll catch on, no problem!”

Squirrelpaw’s tail flicked in victory. She was going to enjoy this. “Oh, I suppose I could tell you. As long as you don’t come stealing our prey that is.”

“Same goes to you, vole-brain.” Crowpaw shot back, his smirk becoming more genuine.

Squirrelpaw’s eyes brightened with delight. “Okay then, watch this!” She took a few paces away from him and got into a stalking position. She slowly crawled, facing imaginary prey. “First, we stalk the bird once we spot in in the tree.” She lowered her voice dramatically. “We slooowwwly crawl up to it, making sure it doesn’t see us.”

“What mystical advice.” Crowpaw said dryly, though his mouth snapped shut at Squirrelpaw’s thunderous look.

“Anyway as soon as we get close enough,” She paused, getting into a pouncing crouch and tensing her legs with all the power she could. Instantly she burst into the air, wrapping her paws around her invisible prey. “We use the bark to give use some more power, grab the bird by it’s feathers and drag it down!” She exclaimed, snapping her jaws on her imaginary bird. She pretended to chew viciously for a moment before getting back to her paws with a proud chuckle. “That’s how it’s done.”

Crowpaw rose a brow, thoroughly unamused. “That’s it. That’s simple.”

Squirrelpaw pretended to look offeneded, but internally she was giggling. “Alright then, show me how well you do it.”

The Windclan apprentice rolled his eyes, “Sure.” He shook his pelt, crouching down to mimic Squirrelpaw’s stalking. The Thunderclan cat took the opportunity to go behind him while he was distracted, making sure her own paws were quiet along the grass.

“Ah ah ah,” Squirrelpaw tutted, “Stalk it more slowly.” She heard Crowpaw groan under his breath and he followed her instructions. All while Squirrelpaw stalked him. The molly grinned darkly from behind, getting her hind muscles ready again.

“Okay, so I’ve stalked it slowly,” He mimicked mockingly, “So now I just-”

“Pounce!”

Crowpaw only had half a moment before Squirrelpaw landed on him, where he was able to twist around to face the grinning beast leaping at him. She collided against his chest, pressing onto it with both her paws. She landed on top of him, holding him down with two paws on his shoulders, but not painfully hard.

Squirrelpaw threw her head back with a triumphant laugh as Crowpaw snarled beneath her. “That was a dirty move!” The tom yowled; his fur ruffled under the cat.

Squirrelpaw craned her head down to give the tom a half-lidded grin. “It’s you’re fault for not seeing that coming.”

Crowpaw growled with clear irritation, but there was no hostility in his gaze, unlike when he had pounced at her when they’d first met. It was clear that Crowpaw wasn’t going to fight. That actually made Squirrelpaw feel a little guilty, she’d thought it would do the tom good to have a little excitement. She just wanted to have some fun with him.

The she realised what was going on. That she was above Crowpaw, staring right into his eyes, with the tender pads of her paws buried into the soft fur of his chest. Soft and warm. Her heart stuttered again and her strength on the cat relaxed.

Big mistake.

Immediately, Crowpaw’s eyes burst with fire and he twisted upwards, catching the molly by surprise. She yelped as she felt his paws press against her chest, pushing her down onto her back. It didn’t hurt when her head hit the soft grass, but she was instantly aware of the slight force now holding her down.

Her eyes opened and she caught his spirited expression directly above her. His blue eyes were furrowed with proud mischief. “And you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily.” He piped, grinning down at her with satisfaction.

If her heart was stuttering before, it was losing breath now. Her chest heaved as she felt him above her. She took in his soft fur again, the misty calmness inside the ocean blues of his gaze, when it was directly above her his smile gleamed so much more.

He had pinned her, but she didn’t feel embarrassed. Not in the way a warrior should.

She even found herself smiling back, laughing along with him. When they looked at each other, there wasn’t any animosity, no challenge, just a peace that came between friends.

Her fur was messed up, but it was her that was ruffled.

Squirrelpaw tried to sound playful behind her blush. “Now who’s playing dirty.”

Crowpaw sank in closer to her with a wink. “I’d call us even, wouldn’t you?”

He laughed again. That beautiful laugh that held the same joy she felt.

If only she’d kept a better eye of her surroundings. She may have noticed the heavy paws thundering towards them.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!” Came the thunderous growl.

Crowpaw only had time to flick his ear before the barrage of fur and muscle slammed into his side.

Squirrelpaw swept her eyes in horror as she saw her friend struggle desperately as he thrashed under the strong paws of Brambleclaw. His paws scrambled at the Warrior’s underbelly with his hind paws trying to shake him off, but Brambeclaw didn’t even flinch, holding down the apprentice with a heavy paw on his neck.

“Why did you attack her?!” The Warrior yowled, slamming Crowpaw’s head back down into the grass, causing the flower to dislodge from Crowpaw’s fur and flail away from the fight. The apprentice buckled under the force, but he continued struggling, thrashing as wildly as he could.

“Get off me!” The apprentice hissed, trying to rid himself of the paw painfully pressing his face into the dirt.

“You had her pinned down! You attacked her!” Brambleclaw snarled, he looked ready to lodge his teeth into Crowpaw’s throat.

Squirrelpaw looked on in horror, straight on her friend hopelessly grunting and writhing for freedom. She scrambled up to her paws, ready to help, when she saw a flash of brown and black dart past her towards the fighting cats.

“Brambleclaw!” Tawnypelt screeched, neck spiked, “Stop it!” She bit down on her brother’s scruff, trying her best to drag the furious tom from the smaller cat. Brambleclaw made no effort to quell in his attack, fixing himself down with his claws. They latched onto Crowpaw’s chest making him cry out in pain.

Whatever trance Squirrelpaw was in was ripped away as anger stormed inside her chest. She raced to the scene, not noticing Feathertail and Stormfur appear from the area where Tawnypelt had ran from.

“Oh Starclan, Crowpaw!” The Riverclan molly screamed with a newfound urgency.

“What’s going on here?!” Stormfur exclaimed, following quickly behind his sister as they both surged to stop the fight as well.

Luckily, Tawnypelt was enough as she finally pulled with enough strength to make Brambleclaw lose grip of his opponent. Crowpaw took the time to give a last furious swipe at Brambleclaw’s belly before scrambling away. Squirrelpaw sprinted to him, looking over the panting apprentice, his fur was ruffled badly and there would certainly be some scars left on him by tomorrow.

“Are you okay?” Feathertail squeaked, pressing her nose against her friend’s fur.

Crowpaw didn’t answer, too busy reclaiming his breath, and glaring with incredible ferocity at the Thunderclan Warrior.

Brambleclaw glared back over the pelts of Stormfur and Tawnypelt, both holding the tom back. “Is he okay?! He attacked Squirrelpaw!”

Stormfur looked back at the apprentice icily. “He did what?”

Brambleclaw bared his teeth, “He had her pinned down, I saw it myself!”

Squirrelpaw rose up, her fangs clear as she hissed maliciously. She wasn’t going to let him try and turn the group against Crowpaw when he’d done nothing wrong. “No, he didn’t! We were just sparring!”

Whatever distrust the cats had of Crowpaw subsided as Squirrelpaw rushed to his defence. Even Stormfur’s harsh stare softened as the ginger apprentice questioned her clanmate. Brambleclaw froze, but his eyes still blazed with rage.

“But he was on top of you! He had you pinned!” Brambleclaw’s ire set back on the wounded apprentice. “I knew it was stupid to think you wouldn’t lose your mind at some point! You’ve always been looking for trouble!”

Crowpaw looked as if he wanted to become as wild as a tornado, but when he tried to stand he winced from the scratches embedded in his shoulders and his side. Squirrelpaw’s heart panged with worry and anger, turning on her clanmate with unsheathed claws.

“He wasn’t hurting me, you fox-brain!” Squirrelpaw yowled, keeping her body between the apprentice and Brambleclaw. She would be the one tearing out the Warrior’s fur before Crowpaw, that was certain. “Maybe if you’d actually bothered to look you might have noticed!”

“What I saw,” Brambleclaw muttered, as cold as frost, “Was a Windclan cat attack my clanmate! I had every reason to get involved!”

Squirrelpaw’s snarl was so vicious her gums were visible. Brambleclaw was not going to find a way to justify this. She could deal with whatever stupid comments came out of his trap, but he had attacked her friend! This was enough! “The only one attacking anyone was you!”

Brambleclaw’s jaw hung, he stammered, as if searching for a way to reason his anger. But Tawnypelt’s angry face burst in front of him. “That’s enough! Face it Brambleclaw, why would she be defending him if he had really attacked her? You made a mistake.” The Shadowclan Warrior seethed, her mouth contacting in a warning. “An extremely stupid mistake! Have you forgotten your own advice of how we should be working together instead of fighting?”

“A mistake? I was trying to help her!”

“I didn’t need your help!” Squirrelpaw growled, once again stung by Brambleclaw’s lack of faith in her abilities. “I can fight my own battles, and when I do it won’t be for no reason at all!”

Brambleclaw looked between the glares of his sister and his clanmate, the adrenaline of the fight dimming as his ears went flat against his head. He looked towards Stormfur, but the tom only returned a small frown his way. There would be no one to back him up here, not when Squirrelpaw so passionately denied his reasoning.

The Warrior’s breaths slowed as his muscles began to relax. Sensing no more fighting would occur, Tawnypelt and Stormfur eased away, but not enough to allow Brambleclaw an easy run at his opponent. The Thunderclan tom glanced at all the furious faces staring him down, and a brief flash of shame oozed from him. But as soon as his eyes settled on Crowpaw again, he darkened again fiercely turning his gaze between the two apprentices’.

“It is my duty as a Warrior, to protect my clanmate when I see them in danger.” Brambleclaw drawled with a slow venom. “I saw and I acted to what I thought was right.” His eyes narrowed on his clanmate. “Maybe it wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t wasting your time with kittenish games!”

Squirrelpaw felt her claws tighten against the ground. It was unbelievable. Even when the group was against him, he still found a way to deflect the blame onto her. She moved her tongue to make some dry remark, but all that came out was a growl. “I hate you.”

There was nothing else to say.

Her clanmate’s brow creased, it was unclear whether it was anguish or malice. Overhead a cloud passed, covering the face of the sun and causing a great shadow to overcome the hills.

Tawnypelt stared at him with a vague disgust. It almost looked like the horror of remembering someone she wouldn’t wish to recognise.

Brambleclaw noticed it and his anger began to mix with a strained pain. The Shadowclan Warrior shook her head, almost piteously, turning to give Crowpaw a soft glance. “Crowpaw, can you walk okay?”

The Windclan apprentice shook a little, his teeth grinding as he felt all the eyes fall on him. On his wounds. He hissed as he rose to his feet, shaking off the support Feathertail offered. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He muttered, his gaze downcast. Feathertail and Squirrelpaw looked at each other worriedly.

“But you’re wounded.” Feathertail ushered.

“It’s just a couple scratches!” Crowpaw insisted, his voice raspy behind his teeth, as he began to clean his ruffled fur. Squirrelpaw wanted to interject; it wouldn’t be wise to just leave Crowpaw unchecked. But there was an intensity, a shame, in Crowpaw’s scowl that silenced her.

Tawnypelt looked as unconvinced as the rest of them, but she didn’t say anything more about it. “Alright, then we should try to make more ground. It’ll be dark soon after all.”

Stormfur muttered in agreement, displaying a weariness for how sour things had turned within minutes. He looked over at his sister, then to Crowpaw, offering a polite nod.

Squirrelpaw sensed Crowpaw stiffen.

“Come on.” Tawnypelt said, padding back in the direction of the setting sun. Out of the corner of her eye, she glared at her brother. “It’ll be over for us otherwise, right?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, Stormfur followed her. Brambleclaw stared into the space, his mouth thin, for a while before he offered another glance at the furious trio. Squirrelpaw knew he could feel her hatred for him. Good. A war seemed to go inside of him as while his eyes were still cold and unapologetic, his frown was rigid and weak. Something was breaking. It didn’t amount to anything though, as the Warrior finally just scoffed and turned on his tail, slowly making his way to the others.

Squirrelpaw sent another growl his way, loud enough to be heard, before she turned back to her friends. Feathertail was close by, the still ruffled, Crowpaw checking him over for wounds.

“Really, I’m fine.” Crowpaw stated, stepping away from the Riverclan molly. “Stop worrying about it, already.” He sounded dry with anger. Feathertail flinched, but she knew that he wasn’t trying to be hurtful, so he relented calmly.

“Okay.”

Squirrelpaw felt a stormy guilt rile in her gut. It has been her who had started the sparring after all. Her eye glinted at something white nearby, her breath caught, and she padded over to the flower, picking it up with her teeth.

“Here, let me.” She said through her fangs. Crowpaw’s eyes flickered at the image of the plant, but he kept his face stony. Still, he remained still, silently accepting.

Squirrelpaw tried to look calm as she wrapped the flower back into his now messy fur but ignoring the beating of her heart was nothing compared to Crowpaw’s expression. He forced his eyes away from hers, as if ashamed to meet her gaze. The fight had seemed to suck all his energy away.

Usually, Squirrelpaw would have found wounded pride something trivial and unimportant. But when she saw the stiff, humiliated expression on his face, her heart ached.

“Did you guys catch anything?” Crowpaw mumbled, talking to Feathertail despite his attempt to stare at his paws.

“Oh, um, yes. We did. When we’d finished, we met up with the others and then… went to look for you. two” Bless her heart, she was careful enough.

Crowpaw made a small sound of recognition, and Squirrelpaw finished getting the flower settled into his head again. She wiped away dust from the petals, trying her best to give her friend a smile.

“Don’t worry.” Squirrelpaw purred. Her heart stopped for a moment as she considered then decided on her next action. Smoothly, she licked Crowpaw’s cheek, cleaning away the dust of the fight. “They know it wasn’t your fault.”

She had hoped that that was what was bothering Crowpaw and that what she’d said would get him to return to the smiling face she loved so much to see.

But neither were true.

Instead Crowpaw met her eyes, still hot and upset with embarrassment and defeat. “Thanks.” He mumbled lethargically, breaking away from her to walk to where the others had gone. “Let’s go.”

He walked slowly, still waiting for them, but the mollies knew it was different. His tail was tucked despite his desperation to look unaffected.

But it was clear that he was exhausted.

Squirrelpaw swallowed as if she’d been chewing on nettles. How? How had everything go so badly that quickly? She just about managed to look appreciative when Feathertail gave her a comforting nudge and a small promise that it would get better. But Feathertail couldn’t hide the clear pain of seeing her friend look so wounded.

But it was the image of Crowpaw’s face that hung in Squirrelpaw’s mind. Even when he had broken down to her about his father, she’d never seen him look as ashamed as he had in those few seconds.

Squirrelpaw wanted him to get better. She wanted him to become friends with the others, and that did look more possible now they’d seen he wasn’t at fault. But, most of all, she wanted to see him smile again.

She just wanted him to be happy.

So she rushed over to where Crowpaw was, determined to not leave his side, not caring if it took the whole way to the Sun-drown place, because he was her friend. She would stick by him.

That was the only loyalty she could care about right now.

...

I hope you liked this chapter. I believe this is the chapter I disliked writing the most. But, some angst is important, so what are ya gonna do?

Anyway, leave a like if you enjoyed!

#squirrelflight #squirrelpaw #crowfeather #crowpaw #brambleclaw #Feathertail #tawnypelt #Stormfur #Warriors #Warrior Cats #warrior au #crowsquirrel #squirrelcrow #New Prophecy #fanfiction

86 notes · View notes