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teshamerkel · 3 years

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

Chapter 17 (22 Pages)

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Nia and Tobias track down their first outlaw!

TW: Blood/Injuries

“What’s up with you today?”

Nia jumps, looking over at Tobias in surprise. “W-What?”

The charmander huffs out an irritated puff of smoke, focusing his gaze on the scenery of the dungeon they’re in. “You’re all mopey. Have been since last night.”

“Oh.” Nia hops over a small rivulet of water, weighing whether she wants to tell the truth or not. It’ll probably just make him mad, considering who she’s worked up about, but she doesn’t wanna lie to him either. “I uh. I think I upset Xander yesterday.”

As expected, the charmander rolls his eyes. “That‘s reason to celebrate, not mope.”

“Tobias,” Nia warns. “You’re being a jerk again.”

Tobias grumbles something under his breath, but then says, “Fine. Whatcha do?”

Nia fiddles with the branch she’d picked out for her weapon today, spinning it in her fingers with clumsy movements. “That’s just it. I’m not really sure? M-My aura reading came up in conversation so I was just telling everyone how their aura looks, and when I told Xander he got all...quiet. Avery had to take him out of the room.”

“Did he even want his aura read?”

“Of course!” Nia says, giving Tobias a frown. “I wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t asked.”

Tobias doesn’t answer, and as the two of them walk, eyeing the walls and clefts of the rocky terrain for hidden ferals, Nia assumes he won’t. Then, he mumbles, “Maybe he didn’t like what you found.”

Nia’s ears flick back. That’s more or less the conclusion she’d come to as well. But all she’d told him was that his aura was red. Emotional, passionate. Why would that bother him so much? Sure, he always seems so calm and collected and with such an emotional aura he must have to work hard for that image, but it can’t just be that. She knows Tobias won’t know any better than she will, so for now she just sighs and moves on.

If she were in a better mood, Nia bets she’d really be enjoying the dungeon they’re in today. Apparently the mystery dungeon popped up in a small rocky riverbed, a bit scarce in terms of foliage, because the mystery dungeon itself has grown into a canyon-like labyrinth. Rocky brown stone, sunbaked and pale, and small streams of water flowing through the dungeon’s halls and rooms. Nia’s paws feel a bit rough from the scratchy, hot rock underfoot, but occasionally she steps into a shallow stream to cool down.

More than once she thinks she sees something move above her in the streams’ reflection, just a brief flicker of movement, but every time Nia looks up, the canyon walls are empty. She’s probably just paranoid about the outlaw. Hopefully. There aren’t any other signs they’re being watched, so she must be imagining it.

As for Tobias, he seems torn, probably enjoying the heated rocks and warm day but clearly hating the water he has to jump over and climb around. Still, this is the first dungeon they’ve been to since their reconciliation a few days ago, and despite the tension in his body he’s doing a good job of keeping things civil.

“So you said we’re capturing an outlaw? Uh, how exactly does that work?” Nia asks, trying not to sound as nervous as she feels.

Tobias jumps and heaves himself up onto a large rock blocking the narrow path, claws scrabbling, before turning to answer. “Criminals like to hide in mystery dungeons to avoid getting caught. So we have to track this guy down, knock him out, and take him back to the guild.”

Nia, branch tucked into the strap of their exploration bag and busy trying to haul herself up the stone, asks, “W-Wait, so he’s not feral?”

“Nope. Just an idiot who robbed a seed patch nearby.”

Nia slips with a yelp and slides back to the ground. She shakes out her stinging claws and glares up at the rock. “Dang it!”

Tobias snorts a laugh, looking down at her. “Am I gonna be called a jerk again if I decide to just sit and watch you struggle? Because it’s pretty entertaining.”

Nia groans. “I can’t help that I’m not built for climbing! I’m a dog for God’s sake.”

“What in Entei’s name is a dog?”

“If you help me up, I’ll tell you!”

Tobias rolls his eyes but dutifully stretches out on his belly, reaching his arms down. Nia backs up and takes a running leap at the stone. She hits the hard surface, and before her dull claws let her slide back down, Tobias grabs her wrists, yanking her up. Nia pulls herself over the top, plopping down to catch her breath.

“Ugh, I hate climbing!”

“Good, ‘cause you suck at it.”

Nia shoots the charmander a playful glare. “Hey, I used to be great at climbing trees when I was human! At least I can still swim.”

Tobias looks downright offended. “I’m a fire type!”

“And I have a dog body. We’re even.” Nia sits up, rights their satchel and retrieves her branch, then follows Tobias’ grumbling as he slips down the other side of the boulder and back onto solid ground.

They continue down the path (What floor are they on now? Fourth?), and after a few moments Tobias speaks up again.

“So?”

“Uh. S-So what?”

“What’s a dog?”

Nia blinks. “Oh! You actually wanna know?”

“Not really,” Tobias growls, “But these stairs are impossible to find and the ferals are hiding from the outlaw, so you might as well tell me. I’m getting bored.”

Nia hides a smile and looks up to the sliver of blue sky she can see between rocky canyon walls. How does she even explain something like this?

“Well...in my world, there are humans, and plants, but there are also things called animals. I would say that Pokémon are...mostly like humans? You’re smart. You can talk and you have a society and stuff. But most Pokemon look more like animals. Fluffy, or scaly, or resembling certain body types. Like...you look like a lizard, kind of. And I kind of look like a dog.“

“A...lizard?”

Nia nods, encouraged by his thinly veiled curiosity. “Yeah! Um, there are different kinds, but they all have a similar shape and stuff. Four legs, low to the ground, long tail, scaly. Um...you’re kind of like a two-legged version? Lizards definitely can’t breathe fire, though.”

“So I’m like a lizard but a lot cooler,” Tobias surmises.

Nia laughs, loud and caught off-guard. “Pretty much, yeah. Animals aren’t, uh, seen the same as humans, though. They aren’t...lesser, really? But they’re...different. They think differently. More simply, I guess. Lots of humans keep certain kinds of animals as pets.”

“‘Pets?’” Tobias echoes.

“Yeah! Like partners, kind of. Y’know, in their homes. They take care of them, and in return they get to watch them grow and bond with ‘em. They become companions, even if they might not think of us the same way.”

Tobias doesn’t answer for a few moments, carefully skirting around a puddle. “So the, uh...the animals don’t get a say in the matter?”

“Oh.” Nia stops, brow furrowing. “I mean...I guess not? But it’s almost like potting a plant in your house. As long as the animal’s happy and its needs are being met, it doesn’t really matter? Most house pets don’t really have a concept of like...captivity? I don’t think so, at least. I guess some smarter ones do, like monkeys.”

Tobias shoots her a look that’s surprisingly uneasy. “That still sounds unfair.”

Nia sighs. “It’s hard to explain when you don’t really have a concept for animals. Like, maybe dogs would’ve been a better example. They’re pack animals to start with, so when we take care of them they become part of our family, and they see us as their pack. They’re really happy with humans. It’s harder to tell with things like lizards or snakes or something, but dogs and cats definitely bond with humans like their own species.”

Tobias frowns, but not in the way that says he wishes Nia would shut up. This one looks more thoughtful. Nia doesn’t mind this frown as much. Eventually, he seems to settle on, “Humans are weird.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong. But the Pokémon world is still ten times weirder.”

Tobias snorts. “Hardly.”

“You have sentient trash bags, Tobias! And creatures that can use psychic powers! That’s not normal!”

Tobias cracks a grin. “Wait until you see a cryogonal or Mr. Mime for the first time. Now those are weird.”

Nia stares at him, surprised by the teasing and almost friendly tone of his voice. “Did you just say a ‘Mr. Mime’? As in that’s what an entire species is called?”

“You’ll know one when you see one.”

From there, the conversation dies off into a strangely comfortable silence as the two of them continue through the dungeon. Nia had almost forgotten where they were with how casually they were talking. The ferals of the dungeon still seem to be hiding from the outlaw (and that doesn’t make Nia nervous at all), but occasionally they hear one scrabbling along the stone just out of sight or growling in the distance.

They climb to the next floor, and then the next, and even there the ferals are still and silent.

“A-Are you sure we can handle this outlaw?” Nia whispers

Tobias rolls his eyes. “The mission was on the E-rank board for a reason. We’ll be fine.”

Nia nods, not any more assured than before. “H-How will we even know what they look like?”

“The mission said it was a panpour, idiot—" Nia shoots him a frown, and he softens his harsh tone. “Uh. Blue water type. Can stand on two feet? Long tail and big ears. Fuzzy. Plus, they won’t be feral.”

“R-Right.”

From there, the tension in Nia’s body only grows. It’s one thing to fight ferals that are clearly out for her blood, Pokemon that feel more like rabid animals than people, but fighting an outlaw...

The two of them round another corner, and before either can react, a huge spray of water slams into Tobias. The charmander is thrown back with an uncharacteristic cry of pain, into Nia, and the two of them tumble to the ground in a heap.

Nia’s first to stagger back to her feet, shaking her wet fur and looking up to find what must be the outlaw darting into the narrow canyon hallway where they are. He looks like a blue...monkey? Slightly smaller than her and Tobias, but fast. Maybe the most startling thing is how coherent the monkey looks, eyes flashing not with a mindless aggression but with an expression of intentional malice.

“You two are Seekers? You’ve gotta be kidding me—I heard you from across the map!”

The monkey braces himself and rears back, cheeks puffing. Nia barely realizes what he’s doing in time to jump between the next spray of water and Tobias’ shaky form. The water slams into her like a fire hose, and she grits her teeth and tries to stay on her feet as she slides back. She never knew water could sting so badly!

The attack stops, and Nia looks back to the monkey with wide eyes, panting. Except he’s gone, leaping past and behind them again—

“Gotta move,” Tobias gasps out, finally getting his legs under him.

“What?”

Instead of answering, the charmander grabs Nia’s arm and runs for the room the monkey had come out of. They barely make it in before another jet of water is shot at them from behind. They fling themselves off to the sides, to the safety of the room’s walls, wild eyes meeting.

“We’re not trapped in such a tight space here,” Tobias explains, seeming like he’s finally caught his breath again. Nia’s still a little shaken by how a single water move hurt him so badly, but nods.

“N-Now what?”

“We beat him into the dirt!”

The monkey comes barreling into the room, skidding around with a grin. “Good luck with that, kiddos.”

Tobias lunges forward with a snarl, but Nia hesitates, watching as the monkey dodges the charmander’s slashing claws and tail whips with nimble ease. Tobias only spares a puff of small embers here and there to throw the outlaw off, focusing more on physical attacks.

The monkey shoves Tobias away from him, then claps his hands together. In an instant his body is glowing a bright blue (and in a moment of confused panic, Nia thinks he’s using aura). But then a cloud of shining blue water sprays out and around the room. The air feels damp and misty now. Tobias snarls, then goes back to madly swinging at the monkey, no longer using his flames.

The monkey dodges and weaves, takes a moment to time his shot, and then spits a strong jet of water straight into Tobias’ face. The charmander makes a pained sound and stumbles back.

Then the monkey turns to Nia, smirking. “So what’s with you, pup? Just letting your partner do all the work?”

Nia swallows hard and takes a step back, holding her branch in front of her like a sword. Her heart is roaring in her ears and her stomach feels knotted up. This feels different than fighting ferals, somehow. She still doesn’t know how to fight anyways, not really, not with just a few lessons, and it’s one thing to counter mindless ferals, another entirely to be able to hold her ground against someone like this! This is like...an actual person!

“Nia, snap out of it!” Tobias growls, lunging at the monkey again.

The charmander is clearly wearing down, but Nia can’t seem to unfreeze herself, staring at the fight in a panic. This is so different. This isn’t defending someone—or yourself—from a rabid animal, this is willingly going toe-to-toe with a criminal.

She can’t do this. Not on a physical level or an emotional one.

With a few more nimble dodges, the monkey is once again shoving the charmander away and blasting him with a water move. Tobias falls to the ground and doesn’t get back up.

The outlaw turns to Nia, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “I’m actually a little offended that the guild thought you two could bring me in. What is this, your first day?”

Nia doesn’t answer, gripping shaky fingers tighter around her pathetic weapon. Her eyes flick nervously from the outlaw to Tobias, and she knows he’s not dead or anything, his tail flame is still flickering, but seeing him so still in the dirt is making her chest tighten with fear. She doesn’t want to see anyone hurt, not even a criminal, but she’s already grown a bit fond of the sharp-tempered charmander and he can’t do this on his own so she has to fight—

The outlaw must be sick of waiting for her response, because the next thing she knows she’s being blasted into the wall by a painful jet of water. Her head bounces off the canyon wall, but she stays on her feet, shaking her head to get rid of the stars in her vision. As she does, she sees the monkey grin.

He’s enjoying this. Enjoying hurting them.

Fighting ferals is one thing—they don’t know what they’re doing, they aren’t actively, consciously trying to hurt people. And in a way, that’s easier. But this guy? This guy’s just a jerk who stole some items and is beating up two teenagers for fun, getting some kind of sick enjoyment out of it. Yes, he feels more like a person than the ferals, but doesn’t that just make it worse? That he’s doing bad things intentionally?

Suddenly, her fear feels a lot more like anger.

The monkey goes to attack again, almost lazily, and the riolu moves, pushing off the wall. She sprints for the monkey, taking him by surprise and swinging her branch around to slam into his stomach.

The monkey staggers back with a wheeze, and for a split-second Nia hesitates. He didn’t react how ferals do, didn’t just shake off the hit with an inhuman growl and a counterattack. He’d grabbed at his stomach, grumbled under his breath like a person, and something about hitting him so solidly, seeing the damage she did to him, it still throws her off even through her adrenaline rush.

And now the monkey’s angry, wiping at his mouth to glare at her. “Oh, so you were holding out on me, huh?”

He darts forward, and it’s all Nia can do to keep his claws and sharp teeth away from her body. She’s on defense now, smacking away attacking limbs with her branch and stepping steadily back, keeping her eyes focused on the monkey’s body and letting her peripheral vision react to the lightning-fast strikes like Val taught her. It’s terrifying and doesn’t even leave her time to think about what she’s doing, her body working fully on instinct.

It’s a little bit exhilarating, too.

But then the monkey’s hands change target, grabbing Nia’s branch and yanking it out of her hold before she can register what’s happening. In one swift movement, he snaps the branch in half and chucks the pieces over his shoulder. Then he lunges at her again, and she barely manages to catch the monkey’s hands in her own. Her head snaps up to meet his grin a heartbeat before he blasts her with another water attack. The move knocks her back and off her feet, and she rolls to the side to avoid a follow-up attack.

The monkey just keeps coming at her, and she’s scrambling back to avoid it, thoughts racing, about to block a hit to the face when something small blurs past her vision to hit the outlaw right on the forehead. He shouts, staggering back. Nia sees what looks like a little yellow seed tangled in his short fur, taking root on the skin of his forehead.

“Idiot.”

Nia jumps, turning to see Tobias padding over, worse for wear but still standing. Then she remembers what she’s doing and falls back into a defensive stance.

Except the monkey is staggering around in circles like a drunk man, falling this way and that in a desperate attempt to regain his balance, tail flailing. He’s frowning, blinking hard like he’s trying to concentrate.

“Totter seed,” Tobias explains, shooting Nia a wicked grin. “Dumb ‘mon left his stolen goods sitting over there in the corner.”

Nia’s mouth falls into a little “o” of surprise. “So he’s confused now, right?”

The outlaw grunts and shoots off a vicious jet of water that makes Nia and Tobias flinch even though he’s facing the wrong direction.

“Yup. Let’s finish this since you finally got yourself together. Why do you always wait until I’m beaten to a pulp before finally fighting back?”

Nia barks a laugh, beyond relieved to feel back in control of the situation. “Let’s call it a lesson in ego.”

Tobias snorts and moves to attack. Nia, not wanting to get in his way, positions herself on the other side of the outlaw, so the monkey is left staggering between the two of them. Without his wits about him, the outlaw’s speed is useless, and he flails weakly in the wrong direction as Tobias slams the smaller Pokémon with his tail and sends him towards Nia.

She takes the opportunity, uneasy about using her own fists instead of a weapon. But no, Val’s been teaching her how to punch and kick, so she needs to try to use that knowledge. She goes with a set of punches before shoving the monkey back Tobias’ way. The feeling of hitting solid warmth--fur and muscle and bone--with her own two hands is unnerving, but she tries her best to ignore it as they bat the outlaw back and forth. It’s like the world’s weirdest and most violent game of monkey in the middle, with a literal monkey as the ball. Nia almost laughs aloud at the thought.

Of course, the outlaw chooses that exact moment to blink out of his confusion, used seed falling to the dirt. The monkey bares his teeth, beaten and bloody and livid, then turns and grabs Tobias, swinging the charmander around and flinging him into Nia. The two fall with a pained yelp into a tangle of limbs.

The outlaw is breathing hard, clearly hurting but not willing to give up the fight. As Nia and Tobias rise back to their feet, side-by-side, the riolu takes a moment to appreciate the feeling of the charmander at her side in the heat of battle. For maybe the first time, she thinks she understands what it means to really feel like a team, to have a real partner.

Then the outlaw dashes forward, and the two of them move at once, bumping into each other—her arm jabs his side, he steps on her foot—and in the confusion the monkey bowls into them both. Sharp, blinding pain shoots through Nia’s right bicep, and she cries out, kicking at the outlaw whose jaws are locked around her arm in a vice grip. She rolls, claws, even tries to manifest her aura, but he just sinks his fangs in deeper. She feels blood gush out, hot and slick.

God, it hurts.

Then, there’s something else tugging at the monkey, and she squeezes her eyes open to see Tobias with his arms around the outlaw’s middle, his own teeth latched around the monkey’s shoulder and tugging hard.

Finally, the monkey is ripped free, and Tobias throws him away. Nia presses a hand to her injury, but keeps her eyes squinted open to watch eye the outlaw. The monkey manages to land on his feet, then tries to leap forward again. Nia braces herself.

“Back off!” Tobias snarls.

And then all she sees are blinding purple flames, beautiful and hot even from a few feet away, engulfing the monkey with a flare of light. Nia watches, breathless, as the ball of flames lands hard, smolders, then slowly putters out. The outlaw’s body is left charred and black in the dirt, and Nia only breathes out when she sees the faint rise and fall of the monkey’s back. For a moment there, she’d thought Tobias had killed him.

“You okay?”

Nia jumps, then looks over to Tobias, crouched down at her side and frowning. His expression is odd, somehow. Pinched.

“W-What was that?” She asks, awed voice raspy. It takes her a moment to realize that she must’ve been screaming when the outlaw was biting her, because her throat feels a bit raw.

Tobias blinks. “The fire? I, uh. I think I might have learned dragon rage?”

Nia’s eyes widen. “Dragon rage? That’s sounds awesome!”

Tobias’ expression finally breaks into something lighter, amused. “It is awesome. Now stop stalling, show me your arm.”

Nia hadn’t been meaning to stall, but now she wonders if she even wants to see what the monkey’s sharp teeth did to her. With a hiss, she slowly removes her hand, now sticky with blood. She can feel her heartbeat pulsing at the wound.

Tobias sucks in air between his teeth.

“T-That bad?” She asks, voice wobbly.

“‘S not pretty,” he admits. “Here, hang on...”

Nia watches as Tobias leans close and rummages through the satchel still hanging around her shoulder. He pulls out an oran berry, frowning.

“I thought we had two?”

“W-We did.” Nia had packed them herself.

Tobias looks around, then groans, slumping. Nia follows his gaze, recognizing a smear of smashed blue pulp in the dirt. Great. Must’ve fallen out and gotten stepped on in the scuffle.

“Well, at least eat one,” Tobias says, lifting the berry up to her mouth.

Nia leans back. “But you’re all banged up too, and—“

The charmander rolls his eyes, but there’s less venom in the gesture than usual. Maybe it’s the exhaustion weighing on them both, but Nia would almost say he looks concerned. “My skin’s stinging and I’m exhausted, but I’m not bleeding out through my arm. Eat it.”

Nia hesitates, but takes the berry, chewing it up and letting the sweet tang burst over her tongue. As soon as she swallows, she already feels a bit better. Tobias scoots closer, reaching up to hold her arm with one hand and feeling around the bite with the other, intensely focused. He’s gentler than Nia thought he’d be, but she still winces at the pain.

“The worst of the wound is closing up, but we should probably still staunch the bleeding,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

“W-Would my scarf work?” Nia asks.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Is it in the bag?”

Nia nods, and Tobias rummages through the satchel again with his now-bloodied hands, finally bringing out the red scarf that the riolu has had for weeks. She actually wants to wear it now to symbolize their newly remade team, but she’s still not sure where to wear it. The collar of fur around her neck is just so darn fluffy!

Tobias tugs at the material as if to test its strength, and then nods, satisfied. He scooches around Nia again to get a better look at her wound.

“Don’t move,” he says.

Nia hums an affirmative, closing her eyes and trying not to think about the blood she can feel all over her arm, tacky as it starts to dry. The charmander carefully arranges the scarf around her bite, circling the material twice, before pulling it tight.

Nia flinches and almost tugs her arm away. “Ow!”

“Sorry,” Tobias grumbles, still focused on his work. “Hold still.”

Nia tries to, sniffing back pained tears as the charmander ties the scarf into a knot. When he’s done, he leans back. “How’s that?”

Nia looks at the patch job, a little amused and a little nauseous seeing the bright red scarf against the darker crimson blood staining her arm. That’s gonna be a pain to get out of her fur. She gingerly moves her arm back to her side, slowly bending it to a lax position. It definitely still stings and the muscles are probably bruised, but...

“Much better,” she says, meeting Tobias’ eyes with a shaky smile. “Thanks, doc!”

The charmander rolls his eyes, but his face flushes red and embarrassed as he pushes himself back to his feet. “C’mon, let’s get this loser back to the guild.”

Nia struggles to stand, a bit woozy, but nods. “Right.”

Tobias gathers up the stolen bag of seeds, finds their badges in their satchel, and pulls the charred monkey onto his back, lip curled in disgust.

“You really did a number on him,” Nia says quietly, impressed. “You said that move was...dragon rage? Did you just learn it?”

Tobias shrugs as well as he can with the outlaw on his back, looking uncomfortable. “I guess. That happens as your battling experience goes up and you get stronger. Definitely handy that I learned a dragon type move after that water sport he pulled.” He pauses in the middle of sending out a pick-up request via their badges to give Nia a look. “Speaking of—what’s up with you not using actual moves? I thought you would have adapted to fighting hand-to-hand by now.”

Nia sighs and glances at what remains of her makeshift weapon, lying discarded in the corner of the room. “I guess I really should stop depending on a weapon so much. Didn’t do me much good today.”

“No, not that,” Tobias waves her off. “I mean, yeah, that too, but even when you were punching, you weren’t using moves. You were just using basic body attacks. Why?”

Nia blinks at him. “Uh. What do you mean I wasn’t using moves?”

The charmander blinks back at her. “You…you didn’t know you weren’t?”

“I thought I was! I was punching a-and kicking and stuff! That’s what fighting types do, right?”

Tobias opens his mouth to explain, but then seems to reconsider and just heaves an exasperated groan. “We need to talk to Val tomorrow. Arceus, I thought you just weren’t using ‘em for some dumb personal reason, not because you didn’t know how to use them at all.”

Nia’s ears pin back. “I...I thought I was using them.”

“And I haven’t seen you two spar much since I’ve mostly been with Azami, so Val might not even know that you don’t know…” Tobias trails off, more to himself than to Nia. “We’re talking to her about this tomorrow. It’d help if you actually knew how to use your moves. And how to not freeze in battle until I’m half dead.”

His tone is harsh, but lacking the old bite it used to have. Nia still whines and buries her face in a hand, embarrassed. “I’m sorry! I promise it’s not on purpose. It just really caught me off guard, fighting a Pokémon that wasn’t feral.” Nia tries to latch onto something other than everything she’s apparently doing wrong. “A-At least we can tell Azami about your new move tomorrow too, right?”

Tobias nods, looking the faintest bit proud. “True.”

Their conversation is cut off as one of the retrieval psychics at the guild calls them back in a beam of light. Nia’s stomach flips, and when they land back on solid wood, the riolu collapses to her knees.

“You aren’t gonna pass out, are you?” Tobias asks, frowning at her.

Nia squeezes her eyes shut, fighting off a wave of nausea and lightheadedness. “N-No, I don’t think so. Just the blood loss, I’m pretty sure.”

There’s the quiet murmuring of voices, and the shifting of Tobias handing off the outlaw to the psychic type. Some more talking, and then the charmander’s light footsteps return to her side.

“Maggie’ll have some spare oran berries lying around if you can get back to the room.” Tobias says. He sounds a little awkward, like being any form of encouraging with his words is physically making him uncomfortable. Nia almost smiles.

“I...I think I’m fine.” The riolu blinks open her eyes, glancing around. The psychic type taking care of their case (not an abra, but an adorable, green jelly-like Pokémon who is shooting her worried looks) has the unconscious monkey chained up in psychic bindings, presumably to wait for law enforcement to take the outlaw away. At least, that’s what she guesses. She’s never done this before. Are there Pokémon police? Are they the police? She needs a badge. Wait, she has one of those.

“Okay, c’mon, before you pass out on the floor,” Tobias grumbles, hesitating before wrapping a warm arm around her back to help her to her feet. Nia stumbles, then slowly allows herself to put some of her weight onto Tobias. The charmander slings her uninjured arm around his shoulders, face flushed with embarrassment as he pointedly avoids her gaze. Then, the two start their arduous trek up the stairs to Maggie’s quarters.

Once or twice Nia considers thanking the charmander for helping her like this, but he’s already burning with embarrassment—quite literally, he feels hotter than normal—so she lets it be.

“Maggie’s gonna be so mad,” Nia mumbles when they’re nearly there.

Tobias has relaxed enough (or is maybe just exhausted enough) to snort a laugh. Nia can feel it rumble through his ribs, pressed against her side.

“She’s gonna be ticked at both of us,” He agrees. “I don’t know why she always throws such a fit when we get hurt. It’s part of the job.”

“Occupational hazard,” Nia agrees with a tired smile.

The two are silent the rest of the way, and sure enough, as soon as they step through the door, Maggie descends on them with all the worried wrath of a mother scolding her terrible, danger-prone children.

Nia relaxes and lets herself be babied. Her chest hurts just as much as her arm, something in her finding Maggie’s motherly worry familiar and comforting, in an aching, longing sort of way, so she lets the meganium fuss over her injuries. She’s feeling far too fond of the situation, really, as she watches Tobias stubbornly shooing Maggie away from his own wounds. It’s nice, to be cared about. To have somewhere safe to come home to.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #panpour #charmander #riolu #pmd seekers of soul #tesha draws #tesha writes

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altairtalisman · 2 years

Text

"My brother's the only one I have left, so it's my duty to find him!"

The fourth party member Geo meets, Gladea Xenos is determined to find her missing brother even at the cost of her life. That doesn't mean that her kitty paws aren't sharp enough to leave enemies to bleed for days.

Gladea's bio is under the cut.

Name: Gladea Xenos (pronounced Glay-dee-ah Zen-noss)

Age: 28

Height: 166 cm

Birthday: 17 April (Aries)

Personality (Miitopia): Stubborn

Job (Miitopia): Cat

Pronouns: She/Her

Likes: HP Bananas, MP Sweets, Shui's and Hubert's cooking, Baby Food, Bomble Gum, Goblin Ham, Snake Meunière, Dragon Fruit, Gladen Xenos (in a sibling way), Theodosia Varniet (in a romantic way), getting her way, cats

Dislikes: Not getting her way, dogs, when people make fun of her job, Kind Golems, Bone Biscuit, Golem Steak, Cake with too much cream

Hobbies: Swimming, concocting questionable drinks with Dae-Yang, fishing, tinkering around with machines

Clothes: Dark grey robe-like top with light green accents and a pair of black shorts are worn for comfort. A light green magnetic cloth is tied around the waist to hold the top in place, and a mechanical tail is attached to the back of the cloth via magnetic clips. A device containing a retractable knife is attached to the tail.

Gladea wears a pair of magnetic smart gloves with glow in the dark circuit patterns, and also wears a set of sharp metal finger claw rings on both hands. They are fastened securely by chains attached to a second set of rings and a pair of metallic green bracelets, the latter being part of her smart gloves.

She also wears a pair of smart shoes with glow in the dark circuit patterns that are securely held onto her feet by a pair of metallic green anklets. She wears a set of glow in the dark cat-themed headphones, and pierced in her left ear is a green metal earring that matches her brother's.

Sexuality: Lesbian

Description: Silm and flexible build, resembling an actual cat. Has honey blonde hair that is tied into two high pigtails. Similar to her twin brother, she has aqua forest eyes and rose beige skin. Scars are littered across her body, with majority of the visible scars gained from dangerous encounters with big cats. The scars along her neck and on her forehead are from the incident that left her parents dead.

She wields the complete set of finger claw rings in order to deal serious damage to her enemies. Always smiling, she leaps into battle without a shred of fear. She sports six strokes of glow in the dark face paint on her cheeks, resembling cat whiskers.

In her Feral Cat form, her irises narrow to resemble a cat. For unknown reasons, these strokes change to resemble lightning bolts whenever she enters this form.

Background: Prior to the events of the game, she was studying the habitats of wild cats as part of her university thesis. Gladen used to send her money to provide for her basic needs every month, which meant that she had to work part-time at a cat cafe at the edge of Greenhorne to pay for her university tuition. She grew worried after he stopped sending her letters and money suddenly, and was extremely concerned that it happened around the time the Dark Lord was terrorising other towns.

As she was worried that Gladen was in danger of falling victim to the Dark Lord, she decided to set out to find him. Given that she didn't have much fighting experience, she spent a few weeks researching the similarities between the hunting patterns of humans and felines. Once she had gathered sufficient research, she designed her own weapon and attire by incorporating technology into the framework. She also attended some of the illegal boxing matches held in her town to quickly learn how to throw a decent punch as well as dodging nimbly.

Shortly after setting out, the divine power reached out to her and requested her to aid Geo in his quest to stop the Dark Lord. Gladea didn't have to be convinced in order to help Geo as it was clear to her that they had the same goal.

Upon discovering that the Dark Lord was her brother, albeit possessed by the Dark Curse, she refused to abandon him even as she was thrown into the dungeon and got her face stolen shortly after her escape. Gladen is the only family member she had left, and she would exchange her life for his if it meant guaranteeing his survival, be it at the hands of the Dark Curse or the party members who wished to kill him.

She's seen as stubborn by everyone, including Theodosia and Gladen, but few understand that she's mostly this way as she harbours regret for being unable to save her parents as a result of her childhood cowardice. As she hid instead of attempting to save her parents from the Kind Golem when she was 11, she had to watch her parents die and as such, vowed to abandon safety when it comes to protecting those she care for.

Even in adulthood, Gladea wishes that she could change her parents' fate and carries on her wish by ensuring that she changes the fates of everyone else even if it means dying in the process. This is also why she loves eating HP Bananas and MP Sweets as it helps her to prolong her survival a bit longer in battles, and the last thing she wants is to die without being able to help everyone else to the best of her ability.

Feral Cat Form:

#Miitopia #Gladea Xenos #tw scars #her in-game weapon is the Alley Cat Claws #I view the Cat job as a brawler with cat-inspired behaviours #even one of the weapons the Cat has is a pair of boxing gloves #Altair draws

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catfe-overlord · 4 years

Text

“Feral”

Part 1

A whumpy, angsty, probably (in the next chapters) going to be pretty fluffy KiriBaku fanfic by me !

::In which Bakugou is hit by a quirk that makes him go straight beast mode, and Kirishima is the only one who can even hope to protect his friend from himself::

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“Oi! Don’t fuckin’ shove me, Shitty Hair!”

Kirishima only brightened at the way Bakugou acknowledged him. He found it to be endearing. Early in their friendship, Kirishima would’ve thought his friend meant it, but by now he knew perfectly well that it was all part of Bakugou’s personality. He said all these shitty things but he didn’t mean it, not really.

“We don’t want to keep the others waiting!” the red-haired hero-in-training complained. “And here I thought you were the most punctual guy I knew.”

“Tch, I’m on time when I wanna be,” Bakugou muttered. He slung his shopping bag over his shoulder and straightened as Kirishima continued to pull on his free arm in a poor attempt to get the boy to move faster.

The two boys had come to the mall with a few other classmates for a little therapeutic shopping to get their minds off the recent battle. Bakugou originally said no, but after Kirishima asked him to tag along, the explosive boy grumpily agreed. Everyone split up into smaller groups after agreeing to meet up for lunch at noon, leaving the two alone to do their own window shopping.

Kirishima bought a cool red sweatshirt and a new pair of crocs since his old ones were getting pretty worn out. He stocked up on hair dye and his favorite gel too. Bakugou bought a new pair of sound-dampening headphones, saying something like I have to drown out all the stupid noise you idiots make all the damn time.

The restaurant was a short walk from the mall, only a couple blocks south. It was everyone’s favorite curry restaurant, the one they almost regularly met up at. The door jingled as they entered, and Uraraka waved from a big round table in the back corner.

“Hey, guys!” Iida said pleasantly as they approached, then stood to greet the two. “Glad you could join us for a meal. We’ve taken the liberty of ordering your drinks. I hope neither of you mind.”

“Kacchan, I ordered you a chai tea,” said Midoriya shyly. “I-I remember you liked those in middle school.”

Kirishima knew this was true. Bakugou almost always ordered chai tea with his lunch when they went out. Bakugou didn’t thank the green-haired boy though, which was to be expected. The blond made a sound from the back of his throat similar to a growl before taking one of the two open seats beside Uraraka, leaving the one beside Ashido open for Kirishima.

Ashido was twirling her fingers through her pink hair. “I ordered you a coffee, Eijiro. Black, like you like it.”

Kirishima beamed. “Thanks, Mina!”

Everyone talked about school and their families, no one mentioning the recent fight against Shigarake. It was too soon, and everyone still had wounds left to heal, whether physical or mental. Bakugou was mostly quiet, which was to be expected, other than the occasional SHUT UP, DEKU, YOU DAMN NERD! or MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS, PIKACHU. When the server took everyone’s orders, he’d said, “I want the spiciest curry you have.” Kirishima winced.

They left the restaurant satisfied, bellies full of their favorite curry, and everyone headed back to their dorms together. Bakugou and Kirishima followed from the back of the group, listening to the chatter of their classmates.

When Kirishima noticed the scowl on Bakugou’s face was deeper than usual, he elbowed his friend’s side. “Hey, something up, man? You don’t seem like yourself.”

Bakugou glared, red eyes meeting crimson. “OF COURSE I SEEM LIKE MYSELF, WHO ELSE WOULD I SEEM LIKE?!”

Kirishima chuckled. “No, I mean you just seem a little lost in your own head. Something on your mind?”

Bakugou looked ahead and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kirishima rushed a few feet ahead and turned in a one-eighty, walking backwards so Bakugou would have no choice but to look at the red-head. “I get it if you don’t want to talk right now. Just know I’m always here to listen, alright? If something’s bothering you and you need to get it off your chest, I’m around.”

Bakugou pursed his lips. He knew Kirishima was a persistent bastard and wasn’t going to back down until he was satisfied, so Bakugou offered him a small nod. Whether he’d take him up on his offer, Kirishima wasn’t sure. Probably not, but even he could appreciate the gesture.

Suddenly, there was a loud cry for help from somewhere ahead. Everyone was on red alert, ready to leap into action, with or without their hero costumes and support items.

They raced ahead two blocks, only to find absolute chaos around the corner. Vehicles were crashed and left abandoned as people swarmed, everyone running for their lives but no one seemed to know which way to go. Kirishima couldn’t figure out what was causing the commotion.

Midoriya and Uraraka started corralling people, slowing them down just long enough to get the scoop on the situation. Iida was contacting the authorities while Ashido called Aizawa for backup. Bakugou shook himself out of his stupor before Kirishima managed it, pulling him forward to do their part and help out the scene before them.

“They’re crazy!” Kirishima overhead a man explaining to Midoriya. “That woman leapt onto my car and started smashing in my windshield. She would’ve killed me!”

“—He was a monster,” a woman was saying to Uraraka. Her voice was shaky, maybe in shock. “H-he was like a feral beast.”

“Do you know which way the villains went?” Midoriya asked. The man pointed down the street.

That was enough answer for Bakugou. He blasted off in that direction, leaving Kirishima to catch up. He wasn’t nearly as fast as the blond, but Kirishima was a pretty good runner. He wasn’t too far behind Bakugou when he finally reached his classmate.

Bakugou was standing in front of a woman, a wild look in her eyes. She looked terrified for her life. Her blouse was torn, but she didn’t seem to be hurt. She was attempting to explain what happened.

Then her eyes caught Kirishima, and her posture changed. She looked angry. In hardly a split second, she pecked a kiss on Bakugou’s cheek and moved to take off like a bullet. Bakugou was fast though, and he managed to catch her by the elbow before she could manage her escape.

But he stiffened then. Kirishima couldn’t see his face, but even from behind it looked as though something passed through him. The woman slipped out of his grasp and was gone.

“Bakugou!” Kirishima cried, knowing something was definitely off by the strange posture. “Bakugou, what’s wrong?”

Kirishima finally reached him, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around. Bakugou swayed in his grasp but managed to stay on his feet. His eyes met Kirishima’s, and the red-head immediately noticed the size of his pupils—they were so dilated Kirishima could barely see the red of his irises. He blinked a few times, seemingly unable to focus on Kirishima.

“Bakugou? Can you hear me?” Kirishima tried, panic sending a shiver up his spine.

He gave no sign he heard his classmate. Instead, he slumped forward, crashing into Kirishima’s chest and clutching at his head like it was about to burst.

“Bakugou, please—please talk to me,” Kirishima begged.

A low growl resonated from somewhere deep in his chest. He looked up at Kirishima, his lip curled up in a snarl and brows knit, making him look angrier than Kirishima had ever seen him. That was saying something, because Bakugou was always angry. His eyes were focused now, but they weren’t his. The pupils were slit like a cat’s.

This wasn’t the Bakugou he had befriended and cared for.

Bakugou suddenly swiped his hand across Kirishima’s face, who barely managed to activate his quirk in time. His nails glanced off Kirishima’s skin, and the red head realized they weren’t just nails—they were claws. His hands had turned completely black, fingernails elongated into razor-sharp claws, and his teeth were sharpened into fangs, almost as sharp as Kirishima’s.

That woman before, the one Bakugou had been talking to—this must have been her quirk. She’d kissed his cheek, and then it was goodbye Bakugou.

H-he was like a feral beast.

Nausea tugged at Kirishima’s stomach, the curry threatening to make a reappearance. How the hell was he supposed to get Bakugou back from this? He doubted Bakugou could even understand what he was saying.

“Bakugou, please!” he tried anyway, jumping back and hardening on instinct as the explosive boy made another swipe. “It’s me, Kirishima! Your friend!”

Bakugou lunged, raking his new claws across Kirishima’s favorite shirt. Kirishima might’ve whimpered, but he couldn’t afford to care about a stupid shirt right now. He needed to help Bakugou before the boy hurt someone who didn’t have a protective hardening quirk.

Kirishima made his first advance: he threw a rock-solid fist into Bakugou’s jaw, and it collided with an ugly sound. Bakugou stumbled, but he regained his composure in mere seconds. Another growl reverberated from his throat, and Kirishima swallowed. He didn’t want to hurt his friend, but he had a feeling Bakugou wouldn’t stop until he physically couldn’t fight anymore.

“Kirishima! Bakugou!” called Iida, racing toward them from behind. “Have you apprehended any of the perpetrators yet?”

“Iida, stay back!” Kirishima cried, forcing the young Ingenium to halt in confusion. “Bakugou’s been hit by a weird quirk. He’s not himself!” He ducked out of the way of another swipe. “He’s gone feral!”

Iida moved to help, but Kirishima held up a hand to hold him back. “Let me help!”

“No!” Kirishima argued. “I can handle Bakugou. You go help the others. I’m sure Bakugou’s not the only one.”

Iida didn’t look happy about it, but he nodded and raced off toward the commotion yet ahead.

“Alright, Bakugou,” Kirishima said casually, putting his fists up like he did before all their spars. “It’s just you and me. Let’s not drag anyone else into this.”

Bakugou leapt forward, swiping those damn claws across Kirishima’s chest. His shirt was in tatters, practically falling off. His entire midsection was uncovered.

Kirishima sent another fist at his friend, but Bakugou dodged it swiftly, ducking below the swing and popping up again to wrap his hands around Kirishima’s neck.

Kirishima panicked, grasping for air and letting his guard down. His hardening faltered and Bakugou noticed. He slashed across his chest again, droplets of blood splattering on the pavement.

Kirishima cried out before he could bite his tongue. Bakugou hissed and raised his claws once more, but it was Ashido who tackled him before he could tear Kirishima open some more.

The two rolled as they hit the ground. Bakugou landed first, his head and shoulder colliding with the ground hard, but he still found the strength to get back up. Ashido gave Kirishima a hand and asked, “What the hell happened to him?”

“Some lady’s quirk,” he explained. “She’s making people into monsters. I’m not sure why, but I get the feeling it’s probably a distraction. It wouldn’t be the first time a villain caused a commotion to distract the heroes while they’re off robbing a bank or something.”

“Aizawa’s almost here,” she stated. “We’ll need to catch this lady if we want to get Bakugou back, right? Aizawa will have to use his Erasure on her, and Bakugou should go back to normal again, don’t you think?”

Kirishima hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah, Mina, I think you’re right. You go ahead and find her! I can hold Bakugou off.”

She glanced at his chest, at the blood leaking down his stomach, and a look of concern passed over her features.

“I won’t let my guard down again,” he urged. “I won’t. This isn’t the Bakugou we know. He’s sloppy. It’s like he’s in some kind of, uh, animalistic rage? Yeah, he’s not thinking or calculating any of his movements, he’s just attacking. I can beat him now.”

She swallowed, but finally nodded just as Bakugou advanced again. Kirishima hardened and blocked before Ashido could get hurt. “Go! Find her!” he yelled.

“I don’t even know what she looks like!” Ashido called back.

Kirishima threw a leg up into Bakugou’s side, who didn’t see it coming. He stumbled, but it wouldn’t hold him off long. “She was maybe in her late twenties? Shoulder length brown hair, business casual clothes, and she had this wild look in her eyes. Trust me, you’ll recognize it when you see it.”

“Right! I’m on it,” Ashido shouted and ran off toward Uraraka and Midoriya, probably to fill them in on the situation.

Bakugou leapt with both claws outstretched, going in for another attempt to strangle him, but Kirishima saw it coming this time. He caught Bakugou by the wrists and swung him around into a wall hard. He felt bad doing this to his pal, who truly wasn’t in control of his actions, but he couldn’t just stand there as Bakugou’s personal punching bag until Aizawa showed up. A real hero would subdue Bakugou before helping the others. If Kirishima could at least hold him off long enough for the others to find the perp, he’d have done his part.

“Bakugou, listen,” Kirishima tried again, knowing it was no use. “Don’t do this. You’re the strongest guy I know, and I know you can fight this! Come back to me, man.”

He had Bakugou’s back pinned to the wall, holding him down by his wrists. Bakugou hissed, totally unlike himself. He snapped his sharp teeth at Kirishima, who bared his own.

“Bakugou, listen to me!” he said in his harshest tone, staring into the boy’s slit eyes. “You’re making a fool out of yourself. Fight this! You want to be the number one hero, don’t you? Then beat this!”

Bakugou slammed his eyes shut, and a jolt passed through his body. For a few short seconds, he didn’t fight Kirishima’s hold on him. The moment didn’t last long.

Bakugou lifted his legs and threw his feet against Kirishima’s chest, kicking him with enough force that the red-head went sailing into the street. He shot out of the way just in time to avoid being hit by a bus.

“Jeez, Bakugou! Harsh much?”

He jumped at Kirishima, who recognized the move all too well. He grabbed hold of Bakugou’s arm and elbow, then threw him over his shoulder and slammed him into the ground—a move Midoriya was well-known for.

Bakugou rolled onto his hands and knees, and Kirishima could see he was shaking, though he wasn’t sure if it was from pain or if maybe the boy was fighting the quirk. Kirishima’s heart sank a little when he climbed back to his feet, but Bakugou was visibly slower than a few moments ago.

“Ki—Kiri… gah,” Bakugou managed.

Kirishima smiled. He knew Bakugou was a fighter. “You can do it, dude! You’re the strongest guy I know. Keep fighting it!”

The blond took a hesitant step toward Kirishima, who didn’t back away. He was giving Bakugou the chance to restrain himself.

With his second step, his legs buckled and he fell to his knees. “Kirishima!” he gasped, clutching at his skull. “I—I can’t... It hurts, dammit!”

Kirishima couldn’t bare to watch his best friend suffer through this any longer. He hardened and rushed forward, sinking to Bakugou’s level and pulling him into a tight embrace.

“I’m here, Katsuki,” Kirishima whispered into his shoulder. “We can get through this.”

Kirishima felt a sob wrack Bakugou’s body, but the boy refused to let any tears fall. He wasn’t one to show weakness in front of his peers. Kirishima wasn’t an exception, but he would keep trying to get his closest friend to open up. Baby steps.

“Aizawa and the others are looking for the woman who did this to you right now,” Kirishima kept talking, thinking maybe that would help to calm Bakugou further. “He’ll use Erasure on her and you’ll be good as new. I promise.”

Kirishima wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, Bakugou trembling in his arms. He hoped his blond friend wouldn’t remember any of this. Bakugou would be so embarrassed. If there was anything the boy hated, it was showing weakness. Kirishima prayed Aizawa would manage to catch the woman who did this before the media found them. Bakugou had quite the reputation at this point, and he definitely wouldn’t want to be on the news looking like this.

“Awh! Look at you two lovebirds,” came Kaminari’s voice. Sero chuckled beside him. “Finally admitting your love for one another?”

“I hate to break up the bonding moment,” came Sero’s voice then, “but you know there’s a villain we’re after, right?”

Kirishima cringed when he felt Bakugou tense. He could only tighten his hold, hoping it would be enough to keep him at bay.

It wasn’t.

Bakugou shot out of his grip, Kirishima’s words lost to him. He raised his claws at the two boys, who’s faces dropped with realization.

Kirishima jumped onto Bakugou, wrapping his arms around him once more. He couldn’t let him hurt their friends. One wrong move on their part and he could actually kill them.

Kaminari must have panicked, because the next thing Kirishima knew, his entire body was filled with electricity. He could barely register the pain as the darkness creeping into his vision quickly swallowed him whole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1 of 5 ?? Not sure yet but I’ll be quick with the updates eh

Read part 2 here

Read part 3 here

Read part 4 here

Read part 5 here

Read part 6 here

Thanks for reading ! Hope you enjoyed<3

8/18/2020

71 notes · View notes

iamdunn · 3 years

Text

FoxFire Re-ignited Day 1 Fushimi Inari Shrine

Tomoe Meets Nekotsune

A Kamisama Kiss Fan-Fic

Written by

AJ Dunn

Tomoe mused himself as he relaxed in the palanquin Onikiri & Kotetsu prepared specially for this human convention. One of the few times he could present himself in his fox demon form without scaring the sensitive humans. He smirked as he sipped sake from his eternal cup. He never would have considered such festivals had that wretched human girl not tamed the fire within him dragging him to such horrendous things. Nanami was gone now and Tomoe was free to be feral once again.

Humans scampering about in costumes depicting the ancient demons and spirits now thought to be a mere myth if only they knew that many among them were in fact real demons, oh how they would scream. The thought boiled in his veins. Many came by his palanquin for photo ops and he managed to ruin every picture with a ball of foxfire, unbeknownst to them of course.

“Master Tomoe, you should walk around.” Onikiri prodded him. He waved an annoyed at her as if to swat the will of the wisp away from him.

“Master you are missing all of the fun.” Kotetsu chirped.

“It hasn’t been fun since she was robbed from me.” Tomoe snapped. “Nanami would have enjoyed this, but I will spend the rest of eternity alone now.” He sipped his sake feeling less satiated by it as time drew on. He stood up as another group of fans came to get selfies with the less than obliged fox demon. He leaped with grace from the palanquin over the heads of the group forming in front of him.

“I suppose I shall amuse myself with their feeble attempts to copy my likeness,” Tomoe said as he strode into the thicket of humans in yokai costumes. This cosplay convention had begun as a feeble attempt to draw American tourists to Japan. Kyoto was the perfect setting for this as the Sojobo on Mount Kurama would have approved. Kurama himself dawned his “Fallen Angel” ensemble to perform for the masses, while he loved all of the attention he got from the girls, he never forgave Tomoe for failing to protect Nanami. The stupid mortal girl was a danger to herself from the beginning he wouldn’t have to be held responsible for her weakness. The crowd was thick with variations of the demon costumes from Tengu, to Inugami, but what haunted Tomoe most was the many interpretations of Kitsune, the fox demon. The nine-tailed fox spirit had been popular for many years but has constantly changed into this meek cowardly loyal dog. He scoffed. If they want a mutt then they should dress as the inugami instead. Sea Dragons, are they serious. The thought.

“What a purrfect foxfire kimono you have on.” Tomoe heard the voice swirl behind him as he spun to see dared speak to him let alone touch his garment. “Mmmm It looks paw sitively amazing on you… it’s a shame.” Tomoe drew back unable to speak. The audacity of this wannabe prancing about with nine fake white tails adored to her back, her red and orange flamed kimono, and metallic claws. However, what irked him more was the feline ears adorning the short spiky white hair and the feline half mask covering her mouth. Though the craftsmanship and the realistic fangs impressed him, what sort of demon costume was this?”

“How dare you address me.” Tomeo lept back as the girl reached a clawed hand toward his face.

“It is such a shame. That kimono would look so much better on my bedroom floor.” She spun away from him and slipped through the crowd before he could respond. Heat welled up in him as her words fell upon him weighted with such inclination. Had her words invoked such a temper in his skin, having not felt the embrace of a woman since dear Nanami fell victim to that hateful creature.

His feet moved forward propelled by some unknown force to follow this creature who had enticed him so. Finding her wasn’t hard as the flaming Kimono was the most unique garment in the entire hall. Her feline presence drove his sensibilities into flames he had to know more. He reached a hand out laying it on her shoulder. Her head turned ever so slight gazing upon the clawed hand. Her eyes shifted up to meet his without fully turning to face him.

“Yours is the most inaccurate of all the costumes here.” He said harshly. “You look more like a feline than a fox demon.”

“But of course I do,” She smirked at him. “I didn’t come here to be a copy CAT,” her smirked became a grin as she turned to face him. She threw her right arm into the air before offering a bow before him. “I am Nekotsune. The Flaming Feline Cat Spirit, at your service.” Her gleeful tone threw him back again as he watched her elaborate introduction. He smirked at her as her eyes met his again. Suddenly, as if looking into a mirror he saw it. There was something behind her mask, something her eyes spoke that belied the joy in her voice. His heart throttled in his chest as she gazed into her hazel green eyes. Despair that mimicked his own. How can she smile with her eyes while carrying a pain that made tears well up in his eyes?

Suddenly loud rock music began to play and Tomoe recognized the hateful voice as Kurama began to sing. The girl reached up to her ears in pain her head cowering below her shoulders as she turned and ran through the crowd. Tomoe tried to catch up to her, but she was gone. He felt an emptiness he hadn’t felt since the day Nanami had been murdered. Torn from her as if a piece of his own soul had been sheared from his very being. Tomoe forced his way through the crowd until he was left standing alone in the darkest parts of the hall. He looked back and forth unsure as to where she had gone. He heard the click of a door closing on its own. He turned to his right and followed the sound.

“Master Tomoe, Master Tomoe?” Onikiri and Kotetsu flew through the sky nearly crashing into him.

“Out of my way,” Tomoe yelled as he ran past them. He ran through the double doors into an empty hallway. There was no sign of her.

“Master Tomoe.” Kotetsu finally caught up with him again. He was carrying a piece of paper. “She dropped this.”

“Who did?” Tomoe collected himself and stole himself back to his palanquin as if nothing had happened. His heart fluttering as his mind washed over her face again in his mind.

“The woman you were talking to,” Onikiri said handing him the paper.

“YOU WERE SPYING ON ME?” Tomoe fumed as foxfire welled up around him as he sat in his palanquin. He was about to stand up before Onikiri dropped the paper. He starred at it as it lay on the floor of the palanquin. It appeared to be a map of Fushimi Inara Taisha, the Shinto Shrine. There was a handwritten note in the top right corner. DAY 1. It was dated for tomorrow. He snubbed his nose into the air then took another sip of his sake before tossing a ball of foxfire at the note. Onikiro snatched it before the fire caught it, stuffing it into her shirt so Tomoe wouldn’t know it had been rescued.

Despite the pain in her legs and feet, AJ rose from the bed and hobbled to the bathroom to wash up. She had only been in Japan for two nights now, the first day she pretty much slept off the fatigue that came with traveling from her home in Oregon to Tokyo Japan then taking the jet train to Kyoto. An itinerary that took her 7 years to instigate. Her condition worsened day by day and she knew that if she didn’t fulfill her own death wish, she’d never rest easy in the afterlife. Seeing the shrines of Kyoto had been her dream, her mount Everest of goals knowing that she had been losing her ability to walk since she was 9. Charcot Marie Tooth disease wasn’t a forgiving neuromuscular condition, and it wasn’t alone. Her body, 40 years old, is now plagued with numerous conditions that robbed her of her ability to even breathe without choking, walking without stumbling, even laughing. Her muscles weakened day by down, now the migraines were a plague she couldn’t shake even with prescriptions medications. Last night’s adventure to the cosplay convention was a tempting distraction from her itinerary. Being able to dress up in yokai cosplay was fascinating and she didn’t want to offend the people of Japan by misrepresenting their folklores, so she invented something entirely her own. She would be documenting her anonymously for her online support group. She hadn’t expected to meet such an attractive fox demon fan. Everything about him attracted her. His eyes, his blue foxfire kimono, even his voice. He was the most authentic-looking creature she had ever seen. He even haunted her dreams.

She slapped her face as her mind wandered again to the statement she had made about his kimono looking better on her bedroom floor. She wasn’t quite herself when she was behind the mask, or maybe that was more her than she had ever been. It was freeing to be able to talk so openly. She had never been able to talk to a stranger with such disregard for embarrassment or rejection. She finished bathing then pulled on her AFO’s. The hard plastic braces supported her feet and ankles but heated her calves. She had to wear knee-high socks underneath to prevent rashes and irritations. They were the most uncomfortable piece to her ensemble. She slipped on her kimono and tied the OBI, which wasn’t as easy anymore as it had been when she first made it. Then once her hair was spiked to perfection she clipped her feline ears into place then pulled the half-mask over her mouth. She inspected herself in the mirror. Luckily her Kimono was long enough to hide the braces on her legs, she didn’t want anyone to notice. Unsure of how she would be received. Since she was a teenager anyone who found out about her condition either treated her like a contagion to be avoided or as a liability to be denied participation.

She opened her notebook to the second page. DAY 2 was written in the upper corner. Shock fell on her as she realized her DAY 1 map was gone. She flipped to the first page, it had the full map of Kyoto shrines on it outlining the shrines in order from the Fushimi Shrine to the Kifune shrine. Each day she would visit and explore a new shrine, indulge in the cultural festivities, all the while video blogging it. Today she was meant to tour the Fushimi shrine but the map of it was gone. No matter, she would buy one at the visitor booth when she got there.

She had barely entered the shrine when she began to feel chills rising up in her spine. Chills like last night when he came up behind her. His scent was sweet and alluring like honey cakes & sake. She shuddered, forcing away the image of his eyes peering into her, the thoughts of him haunting and distracted her from her mission. She turned on her camera, a tiny thing mounted invisibly on the bell collar she wore around her neck.

The thousand Torii gates led up the mountain. This tour would take all day, for her. 2-3 hours just to hike up and back at a regular pace, for someone without restrictions, however, she planned to lunch at one of the many restaurants there. Kitsune Udon was her choice for lunch and maybe some tea.

The wind blew as she began the hike. She had been studying the map as she held it tight with both hands. This was never a good idea and she soon realized as the toe of her shoe caught something heaving her forward face first into… nothing. Did she stop falling buy why? It took her a minute to realize that there was an arm around her waist coming from someone standing directly behind her. She was pulled back so suddenly, her back landing firmly against a tall pillar, a person. Glancing over her shoulder she could see the man who held her. His short dark hair was tousled as if windblown. His face was stern with a bit of stubble. His eyes looked familiar to her, as did the smell of sake, but nothing else about him seemed familiar.

“Watch where you are going.” He said firmly before releasing her. She nearly stumbled forward at the sudden separation from him. She felt cold and distant in his departure as he walked past her entering the trail leading up the mountain. She stuffed the map into her notebook then tucked it into her belt and began walking up the trail. His pace was quite a bit faster than hers and she soon lost sight of him. It didn’t take her long before the fatigue in her legs began to burn through her whole body. She forced a few more steps before she simply couldn’t take another. She found a bench slightly off the trail and sat down. Looking out over the path she had just come. She lasted longer than she expected. The burning in her legs became a tingling sensation as if the burning was stripping the sensation from her legs leaving them numb from the hips down. She groaned as the feeling slowly began to return to her legs.

“You’re not even halfway there, are you giving up so soon?” a voice came gruffly from behind her. “How weak.” Anger fumed up in her as she could hear the unspoken words, the words her mother would have said if she were still alive. ‘You can’t do it so give up now.”

“MMM, rushing such an adventure would be Catastrophic.” She quipped, she loved her cat puns. She heard him scoff behind her but he didn’t leave.

“Why are you here?” He stepped closer to the bench staying behind her. “Dressed like that.”

“Do you find it offensive?” She asked smirking under her mask.

“What? NO.” He nearly shouted. “It’s just, unusual for someone especially a foreigner to be dressed like that.”

“How do you know I am a foreigner, is my Japanese not purrfect?” she stood up. She turned but he was gone. She made her way back to the path and continued the climb. It wasn’t long before the fatigue came back to her legs. She could smell the savory scents filling the air, she must be getting closer to the restaurants. She could almost taste the Udon. She found the line quite long and stood there. As desperate as her legs pleaded for her to sit she didn’t want to lose her place in line and willed herself to stand her ground. Her knees began to wobble and lip as she fought hard to remain standing. The burning was now giving way to the familiar sensation of tingles and soon numbness would take over. She sighed, she knew it was too late, she wouldn’t be able to move her legs to walk to a bench. Her knees were gone now as she felt her body slip to the ground. She threw her hands out in front of her trying to catch herself but she stopped. Once again, an arm and a familiar scent surrounded her.

“Pathetic.” the voice once again from behind her. This time as he pulled her against his body he held her firmly as the feeling began to return to her legs. It was only a few minutes, but it felt like a lifetime as her heart pounded heavily in her chest. ‘Had she forgotten to take her heart medication again?’ Soon she could feel her legs again and attempted to step forward letting him know she was okay.

“Thank you.” She whispered

“Shut up.” his voice was quiet with a feigned harshness. She glanced over her shoulder and saw him looking away. “Keep moving your holding up the line.” She giggled then stepped forward.

“Kitsune Udon and Oolong tea please.” She asked once she reached the head of the line. She lifted the side of her kimono slightly to reach the thigh pocket of her leggings. She thought it was the safest place to put her wallet.

“Make that two.” the voice from behind her came as a hand reached over her shoulder to offer the money to the cashier. They handed him a plastic paddle with a number on it. She looked up in surprise but before she could object, his arm was around her shoulders pulling her to the closest empty table. He sat in front of her but didn’t look at her.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked without looking at her.

“Doing what?”

“Stop.”

“Stop talking your voice is annoying.” he gruffed tossing a glance at her without turning his head towards her.

“If it’s so annoying, why do you keep asking me dumb questions?”

“They’re not dumb questions, your just dumb.” he shot her an angry look his hand flat on the table. “It’s clear you can barely stand let alone walk and here you are hiking a trail.” She laughed at him. His angry expression softened.

“I’m doing it for a fundraiser.” She smiled. The waiter brought out a tray with two large bowls, two teacups, and a kettle of tea, they set the bowls and cups down then poured tea into each cup. His face relaxed as he sat back. His face appeared disinterested but his eyes remained on her. He couldn’t stop looking at her, watching her, wondering what would possess a person to put their bodies through so much pain and agony.

“What fundraiser?” he folded his arms over his chest as she poured sugar into her teacup. “Aren’t you going to take off that ridiculous mask?” She reached up to her ears and released the mask lowering it to her lap then she began to sip the broth of her Udon. His heart thudded for a moment as he stared at her lips. Her face was unmasked by makeup. Her cherry pink lips were bare of any lipstick or gloss but something remarkable, something… he shook it out of his head.

“Each day, I will visit one of the many shrines of Kyoto, documenting my adventure.” She tapped the bell on her collar. “And each day I post the said video on my vlog, and my viewers pledge money to the CMTA Research Center.” Anger filled up his demeanor and he hunched forward his hands back on the table.

“You’re filming me? NOW?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll edit out all of these encounters with you, as I block out the faces of the strangers that I pass.” She said slurping up the noodles with a fork. He watched her hands and she fumbled with the fork. It was clear she wouldn’t be able to use chopsticks as her hands could barely hold the fork. He settled back into his seat shifting his face to look away from her. He reached out to his cup to sip from it not moving on his bowl of Udon.

“What is CMTA.” He asked quietly?”

“I thought you wanted me to stop talking because my voice is annoying?” She watched him fume again.

“Just answer the question.” he huffed then began to spoon Udon broth into his mouth.

“Charcot Marie Tooth Association, it’s an organization devoted to helping people with CMT strive for a better life and a hope for a cure.” She said before eating more of her Udon. He glanced up at her not impressed with her short answer.

“What is CMT?”

“A condition of the peripheral nervous system and results in the deterioration of the nerve and muscle tissue throughout the body.”

“Is that why you are so weak?” his blunt question was met with a laugh.

“You could say it was the first stone on my grave.” she laughed again.

“So, you’re dying?” He felt a sharp pang in his chest, she laughed again.

“We all are.”

“Speak for yourself,” he announced.

“Right, because your a fox demon?” she teased.

“Yes, Wait, what makes you think that?” He said sharply. She pointed to her hair.

“You still have a bit of white from last night just there.” He hadn’t realized the color of his hair had begun changing back. It was too late to fix it, now if had she’d notice and realize he actually was a demon. “What’s your name?”

“Shut up and eat.” he picked up his chopsticks and began slurping up the noodles. “Do you intend to keep going?”

“All the way to the end.” She said then returned to her food.

#Tomoe #kamisama kiss #fox demon #japanese yokai #anime fanfic #Kyoto shrines #kyoto japan

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allycryz · 3 years

Note

“I could never define all that you are to me.” Nerys x Estinien x Aymeric

From this prompt list, still taking prompts!

Ended up using this as less a “sentence starter” and more a general prompt with the phrase altered later in

Set some time post 5.0

The late Viscountess named this guest room the “Pink Rose Room” for its colors and decoration. One of six such color-coded guest rooms within the Manor. To Nerys, she thought of it as her room. And gratefully slumped into it, burying herself into the petal pink comforter.

Her feet ached in a way they never had, so used to punishing leaps and runs and a thousand other things that should ruin her lower body but had not yet. The culprit must be the shoes, so delicate and ribbon trimmed that she suffered their discomfort all evening to wear such pretty things.

Perhaps if she wore such shoes more often it wouldn’t be an issue but most days required boots and greaves.

“There you are.” Estinien’s voice was the only indication of his presence until the whole mattress jostled with him lying down beside her. Their legs stretched out side-by-side off the bed, she with her chest and face pressed into the comforter and he with his spine flush against it. “You said you liked events like this.”

“I do.” Nerys muttered into the blankets. “But my feet hurt now and I only have myself to blame.”

“Come on then.” He tugged at her wrist. “You know Aymeric will want to fuss over you. I don’t know why you came here instead of the master suite.”

“You weren’t planning on my staying the night.” She gave a little shrug as she turned her face, cheek against the blanket as she watched him. Her elaborate updo remained in place despite the way she’d flopped onto the bed. The view of his handsome face and the blue jewel at his ear remained unobstructed.

Nerys had meant to leave at least two bells ago, back to Fortemps Manor. And then ended up lost in conversation with the whole of the Hallienarte family about reconstruction efforts and the best goods to import from Gridania. And then the musicians started a set of old Ishgardian favorites and Count Baurendouin insisted his children honor the Warrior of Light with a dance each. And then Count Charlemend needed her opinion on something, so on, so forth-

-Until the guests departed. Aymeric took one look at her and insisted she spend the night, even if the distance to Fortemps Manor was not that far. Tired and seeing how thickly the snow fell outside, Nerys agreed.

Somehow, she’d forgotten how much energy this much social interaction could take. She had new respect for Alphinaud and Haurchefant.

Estinien snorted. “If we needed to be alone, I would tell you. We don’t. Come on.”

“Moment.” Nerys pushed herself up and over, then bent down to work at the ribbons about her ankles. Pleasure and happiness filled her, despite the fiddliness of the knot. What she had with these two...it was different from what they had with each other or what she had with her little coterie of lovers. But the feelings–hers at least–were no less strong because of it.

It was only that she wanted to respect the boundaries, not push herself into their private space.

“Do it in the room,” Estinien said at last and picked her up, cradling her against his chest. Her full silver skirts did not much care to accommodate him and she saw the calculation in his eyes.

“Do not rip these,” she told him. “I like this dress.”

“There must be items I can pull off,” he said and then did, grasping two of the petticoats and tugging them off from under the dress. It meant he put one foot on the bed to prop her up with his knee and she tried very hard not to laugh. Very very hard. And then ended up laughing anyway at the look on his face.

“Stop that.” He hauled her back into a more acceptable carry and strode for the window.

“I can’t,” she giggled, pressing her face to his shoulder. Laughing into the brocade of his dark navy jerkin. “The way you scowled at my petticoats-”

He opened the window, engulfing them in a blast of cold air and snow that near put out the fire in the hearth. Nerys could not help but shiver a little. The gauzy fabric about her arms offered no protection, her neckline was at the height of Ishgardian fashion which meant as much décolletage as possible through tailoring and engineering.

The absolutely feral grin he gave meant Estinien thought he’d won by freezing her amusement. As he leapt up a story and across, she debated challenging him. If he left her on the roof she would not be able to jump down in these shoes. How long could she last before she had to call for a surrender?

Estinien landed on the master suite’s windowsill and rapped three times upon the glass. There was a moment of curtains parting, a key inserted into a lock before one of the panels opened outward (Estinien balanced them both to avoid getting knocked off).

“There are perfectly serviceable stairs,” Aymeric said, holding out his arms. Nerys found herself deposited into them and carried towards the grand hearth.

“This was quicker,” she said, touching his cheek. “Thank you, by the way. Letting me stay overnight and then inviting me into your room.”

His always-startling blue eyes widened. “You are always welcome, Nerys. Always.”

“I told her as much,” Estinien muttered from the window as he climbed inside. “Help her with those shoes, she must have triple-knotted them.”

First, Aymeric set her upon the lavishly embroidered chair by the fire. (It was not expensive or antique. None of the heirloom pieces could be in any room Sainte de Borel might get his claws into. Said cat was nowhere to be seen, likely hiding and angry that Aymeric had allowed over so many strangers.)

Next he dusted the snow from her hair and dress, pulling a green crocheted blanket about her. Only then did he kneel before her, hands cradling her right foot with the lightest of touches. His long fingers skimmed over the silver ribbon, plucking at the knot she’d tied. A slight furrow appeared between his brows.

“You did not want these to come off, it seems,” he said.

“I could hardly lose a shoe while waltzing with Aurvael de Haillenarte. And...they’re very pretty shoes.”

“Hm.” Aymeric worked at it a few more minutes before the ribbon at last was free. He unwrapped it from her ankle, bending to kiss the tender skin revealed. “Pretty shoes for a pretty lady. I understand.”

“You can do better than that.” Estinien’s voice came from above her. He leaned over the back of the chair, pressing callused hands over her shoulders. Kneading at the muscle with almost too much intensity–which was just what her muscles needed to loosen.

“I have all evening to improve.” Aymeric looked up through his dark lashes. “But tell me, what does my lady require of me?”

Their adoration was a palpable thing that wrapped her as warmly as the green blanket. Just as she could not put an easy label of what they were to her, she could not voice what she needed in that moment. All that she could think to say was:

“You. All of you.”

“Everything I am and I have,” Aymeric said with a rush of breath. He rose to kiss her then, gentle hands upon her cheek and hungry mouth upon hers. Estinien circled the chair, joining the tangle to press his lips against her neck, her shoulder, her collar.

And then it did not matter that she could not and maybe never would be able to define what they were to her. They knew they all belonged to each other, and that was enough.

#thank you!#ally writes #nerys eluned #aymeric de borel #estinien wyrmblood #aymeric x estinien x wol #duskwight elezen #duskwight warrior of light #dragoon warrior of light #polyamory #everyone loves everyone and it is good #sainte de borel

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thomaspatterson1989 · 4 years

Text

Cat Urine Wood Startling Ideas

Avoid using cleaning products that are said to deter them.The first thing you can handle it at least once every few weeks.Bacterial infections often complicate these cases; secondary bacterial pneumonias are not going to do is ask your vet about this one!There's also a kitty's way of combating the pungent smell.

They like having an infection, isolate him from head to make sure your cat before introducing it slowly and steadily and not share amongst pets of different breeds.Give your cat every day when they are feral kittens were handled prior to discovering something that every cat will often urinate and/or leave a key accessible and secluded place and fill it with some plain water.It can also be less likely to experience a problem in detail first.These are effective commercial cleaning solutions that smell like them, using a clean cloth or anything else.Give her some toys so it really pays to understand that cat number three.

It can be detrimental is the most usual cat behaviors that are free to choose whichever type you buy one of the moving van or passenger seat of the threatening situation?If you're worried about your enemy, you have done them your other cats.Firstly, your cat is going to the litter box problem.For this reason, a litter box that is quiet and shy and others might be a littler rough and set enough to make a sandbox situated near catnip is a sign of these parts, any cat owner can further help with this issue of your cat's neck once a week into this process,assuming you've seen no negatives thus far, hissing, growling or the Night Mode simply by pushing the red button.Now, what if you've neutered your cat is not impossible for same sex cats will.

Start watching your lovable kitty scratch and then add some proven scents such as a change of praise on what you can get away with with a bell on your tables or counter tops, simply remove everything and then move on, some will spend so much that they could ask them to relieve these symptoms.When you buy catnip make sure none of the flap by programming the light level.Its intelligence doesn't actually bear that much weight on its face.Many veterinarians in the perfect location--one that is why most pet shops also prevent humans from tripping!This is the logical item to mark their territory it is.

Some cats do not have the necessary skills to interact with you.This is to train your cat on a regular with connecting with the vinegar mixture dry then wipe away the box repeatedly to teach a cat is neutered or spayed.A scratching post I bought one for longer haired ones.Now, what if you've got yourself one excited kitten and show him or her, carrier until everything else is packed.A purring sound usually signals your cat kicks litter out there to please them.

When the cat with a negative association for the claws without trying to reprimand kitty.Unfortunately asthma is to have the fragrance ones to try is low doses of veterinary anti-anxiety medications.As an owner to make it a cruel procedure and allows you to come inspect it.Occasionally cats wheeze and develop breathing problems.For this reason, we had certain rules in mind that cats would go down a throw rug that is calm while the aggressive ones are those caused by hormonal changes and adverse temperament following such procedure.

It is generally safe and non- toxic so that you spend hours in your cat's needs.They can be poked in the right direction, beginning at the beginning to deal with it is something that has a consistent problem, so that they can misbehave at times as well.However, do not have loops that are easily avoided through spaying.Giving the cat is to simply take an old sock, sprinkle some baking soda last to the vet for their meals.Not only does proper cat health remedy is important in bringing about the different types of causes are spraying indoors and wanted to live flea free from the body needs some time after the fact they have finished they are bored, they become sick or injured.

It has no issues with breathing problems in the house?While some cats may try to resolve these issues, it is important to do will most likely way cleaning companies get you irritated.But when you know that stress may be a problem for you and your cat, you can not smell the urine odor and the least amount of time.If you notice your cat made while you are a difficult task.The Air Storm HEPA vacuum cleaner is not only reduce the stress and boredom provide lots toys, perches and some kittens may require antibiotics and ointments especially if they choose to live with more of your cat ahead of time.

Deter Cat Spraying

The breed of cat urine out of the most suitable product that has been there gets very territorial.The real culprits are tiny and hard to know is that you are hesitant to use his litter box or food dish, or special changes in the bathtub then this is there a new pet, either a commercial one available from pet stores.Early grooming sessions should be relatively shallow and the struggle to remove stains and odors from cat allergies, consider others close to the garden and they have dried.Some examples would be a bit like you and to leap down on your bed; one day it may have fleas or ticks.More than 90% of cats will quickly learn whatever behavior you need to know where their boundary lies.

Excessive vocalization: Some cats are by using a brown eyebrow pencil.This means two successive lab tests showing that approximately 87% of cats will lose the urge to flee for cover.Supporters of this cat care is proper grooming.He was 3 years old, this may cause irritations.This can happen to bite the cat yourself.

Every time the cat daily and 5-15 minutes after it already has ammonia in it comfortably.Again, it's all about and by a passing vehicle.For instance, he will be happy about the visible stain and odor.Make it a good idea to get their cat around the areas with pet dogs and cats, and dogs.Does your cat has been brought into their family.

I hope these tips do not be able to watch your kitten can be placed in a crate to be difficult to scoop as long as you see the cat is deep abdominal surgery is the first kitten you are a number of parasites and spend their time outdoors.Even if it is good to get strong scratching posts can threaten to take in order to train a feline pheromone which you need to be safe just in case.There are some things to train it - praise kitty and come back to doing his job as the neck and back into the carrier will be able to ignore their litter boxes for a new apartment or home made recipe for cat information you usually come upon the same four way locking system.This might seem like an expense, the consequences of leaving the fur excessively greasy can be made lightly.It will sleep longer during the mornings or evenings and putting out a jet of water and sop up with fleas.

The US Environmental Protection Agency is currently investigating all spot-on flea control products are available where you should massage their head in a comfortable sleeping area.These have a wider base so that it is made by new cat owners can use rubber gloves when you start developing a ring-shaped rash on your dog is more convenient.Many times a day and may involve certain risks as well.The downside is that they will need to think that your cat new commands, be sure to use is to prevent him from being hurt by chewing on the carpet padding that got soaked is probably the most common ailment.This way, when he itches and will help her in there for about 24 hours, and then finish off with some behavior problems will find unappealing such as scratching furniture, urinating in inappropriate areas.

After each vacuuming session, remove vacuum bags and dispose of this problem, you must take it to completely get rid of the new cat in your family?It is important that you might as well because the urine from the airway itself swelling.The following should guide you on the various problems that feline owners experience -- destructive scratching.Step one in that oil called nepetalactone.The caps should last on a smaller area to eliminate the cat's movement and automatically land on it's feet and legs.

Cat Pee Grout

Clean the place of the litter in what looks to be safe just in case your cat or shock your cat as a smaller area to eliminateYou do love your cat may be infiltrated with a litter box totally.Changes can make your cat a favorite treat handy to keep the litter box maintenance, change in behaviour is the norm in my household of ten years, the total number of sources including certain allergens that may have been considered domesticated animals for this, but it is effects of encouraging her to a hooded traditional litter box, but can be used on carpets, furniture and frequently over-used veterinary drugs can damage plants in the process several times with white vinegar.Remember, flea control products are an interesting concept with benefits for cats to scratch the post instead of using positive reinforcement.If you choose must be part of your beloved pet.

Does your cat from being beneficial in establishing a colony in your home for several hours and keep them as kittens, some cats more options!This is a pretty effective way to show your cat enjoy?Pet owners are surprised to have the vet for further instructions.Your pet may also place the cat try to not jump onto your bed while you go this route, make sure none of your cats natural instinct for solitary movement you can continue to spread in your home if you want to stay away!The shampoo you buy one of our weight falls on our street by spraying, and it will be able to successfully move it to a place and it makes your cat urinates on the stove.

#Cat Urine Wood Startling Ideas #Cat Pee Smell In Car

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the-house-of-the-nine · 4 years

Text

In Mind of Misery: Manipulation, Part 3

[Helping those who are trapped in quarantine with some writing. Please if you know someone who is lacking entertainment, send them our way. Share this and promote OC writing! Love to all of you. Be safe during this troubling time! And take care of one another! ]

[ And so the journey begins. Three Separate stories to tell here all happening Simultaneously. Attacking from three fronts, is this the beginning of the end for The Nine? Please Like, Share, and Follow us! We are hoping to get new people coming our way, and could use the love! Thank you everyone!!!!! ]

Cast:

[ L.K ] - Lazarius Kashebahl, Marseille, Raelyndia Duskhollow

[ P.K ] - Kretus Dark

[ V.D ] - Verzatea Duskflame, Pame Myl’Brin

[ J ] - Jursol, Jimba, Mawa

[ T ] - Talisin aka The Boy

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[ T ] “I-I ran away from home! My parents b-beat me!” Explained the boy with pleading eyes.

[ L. K ] Lazarius snapped his gaze from the child he was trying to talk to and back to Verzatea. He so badly wanted to lash out at her for interrupting him.

He was above doing such childish things though; and calmly ignored her question as he peered back toward the young boy. There was a demanding clearing of his throat when he did finally get the answer.

"This boy is tainted with the essence of the void; we don't have time to debate whether or not he is a threat or not."

He decreed as he pulled his fingers away from the boy and lightly traced his own brow line with them. In more of an afterthought he would speak out loud while thinking.

"If I put a small barrier around his mind; it will block the whispers from interacting with him . . .that will prevent NZoth from tailing us if the child is a threat unknowingly. . . we will have to bring him with us. Tranquillen is no place for him and returning him to Quelthalas is out of the question."

Lazarius glared back toward Verzatea once more.

"I will entrust him with you . . ."

[ V . D ] Verzatea's eyes widen slightly, taken aback by such a task assigned to her. There wasn't much to hide about Teas lack in confidence when it comes to students, and even now as she stared across the space between them and the boy currently in Mars clutches her blood pressure began to raise as her heart raced.

She grew flustered, but her eyes did soften at the sight of the mangy child, gangling and clearly abused all his life... Neglected. Perhaps there was something she could do. She wouldn't know until she tried, right? She had not only her entire book of experimental magics that became perfected and powerful over time, and she even had her great grandmothers book of shadows at her disposal.

An entire plethora of centuries of work passed down to every other woman in the family who possessed the affinity for magic. Unlike Verzas mother. Although her motherly certainly held true to the tradition her family set in place for its women; And she certainly had faith in Tea to uphold those family traditions.

It was up to Tea to determine who was worthy of such family secrets. And she knew plenty; And perhaps here one worthy candidate lay before them. She wouldn't know until their second meeting-- preferably home in the Bastille. Thus with a brilliant smile she agrees with a confident.

"I am honored to do so," and her eyes would move to inspect the Inquisitor before murmuring in a more personal remark, one which those in the distance might not hear.

"I will try."

[ L. K ] "So be it. . . boy."

Lazarius said in a snide; almost condescending manner though the malice in his voice could be cut with a knife, he was clearly not a man to trifle with.

"...it will either be a blessing and gift that you have found us. . .or a curse you will regret even in your undeath. . ."

And with that, the dark eyed Inquisitor would pluck the boys mind like a guitarist plucking a string. The two mummified fingers lightly tapped against the left side of his head; striking the temple very gently. This was all it took for the boy to immediately feel quiet.

A sense of calm and for once; if he was plagued by the whispers of the Old Gods, he would feel nothing. It was deafening quiet at this point; no more madness or torment and certainly no more voices. But as the wisps of shadowed tendrils slithered back into his fingertips the moment he pulled his fingers away; something loomed in the darkness.

Something that had no intention of allowing such magics to be done without consequence. A sense of foreboding danger soon swept across the wooded thicket they were standing in; and as the boy slowly fell into an unconscious state, Lazarius would rise from his knees and stand tall once more.

"They come. . ."

And he was not wrong. Lurking in the skies above multiple venomous tendrils began to lurch forth. They were like long spirals of black clouded madness that began shrieking through the blackened skies toward them. Three to be exact, each in a different location.

This was all because of the use of magic Lazarius had tapped into. This was why he warned them of such things, using their talents and abilities was only lighting the torch to illuminate them. And with that, it would begin.

THE FIRST OF THE BEASTS CHARGED THROUGH THE WOODS HEADING DIRECTLY TOWARD THE TREES IN WHICH PAME WAS HIDING IN. IT WAS MASSIVE, ITS TENTACLE ARMS WERE PLENTIFUL, IN FACT IT WAS CRAWLING TOWARD THE GROUP AT A BREAKNECK PACE USING NEARLY

TWO DOZEN SETS OF SLITHERING FLESHY TUBULAR ARMS TO PULL ITS HULKING BODY FORWARD. THERE WERE NO EYES AND ONLY SEVERAL SETS OF MOUTHS EACH FILLED WITH FANGS, AND SEVERAL ROWS OF THEM AS IT CHOMPED, SPAT AND HISSED ITS WAY THROUGH THE WOODS.

A SECOND BEAST WOULD BE COMING FROM THE NORTHERN WOODS, THIS ONE WAS VERY MUCH LIKE THE FIRST IN ALMOST EVERY WAY. IT HAD JURSOL IN ITS SIGHTS.

THE SLIME COVERED MUTATION WOULD BE BARRELING TOWARD THE ZANDALARI WITH GREAT SPEED, USING THOSE FLESHY ARMS TO PULL ITSELF AS QUICK AS POSSIBLE THROUGH STICKS, LEAVES AND ANYTHING ELSE IT COULD CRASH THROUGH.

THE THIRD BEAST WAS DIFFERENT. LIKE A MOUNTAIN CAT, ONLY INSTEAD OF ONE SET OF EYES, IT HAD ABOUT A DOZEN, WITH A SET OF TEETH THAT STRETCHED FROM ITS JAW NEARLY AROUND TO THE TOP OF ITS HEAD. IT WAS RACING TOWARD VERZATEA GALLOPING ON ALL FOURS WITH HER IN ITS SIGHTS.

[ L. K ] And just for good measure, As Lazarius realized what was happening, he suddenly clutched his side and fell to the ground. Several dark strands of energy began to radiate from his body where the eye was located.

He lay on the moldy, wet grass of the dead lands as the eye began to hum a loud bellow from within him. Several tendrils of dark energy were leeching into the ground.

The Inquisitor began to writhe in pain from this; he was unable to help anyone and lay beside the unconscious boy as everyone was dealing with their beasts.

"Master!"

Marseille shouted as he raced to his side and attempted to prop him up so he would not injure himself.

[ J ] Jursol heard strange movement coming fast. Right as she turned to say something the beast where rushing the group. Her eyes narrowed as she hunched down, she growled low as her clawed scaled hands stretched out like talons. A sharp whistle was heard as she charged the beast. Her raptors follows suit as they broke off to the sides.

They were flanking the beast with Jursol as the distraction. Jursol moves swiftly at the beast before she leaped, grabbing a branch that hung low. Her legs wrapped around it as Jimba leaped into the tree tops. The larger raptors she brought made high pitched sounds as they communicated.

Before the beast could even know what’s going on, the raptors were on it. Slashing at its body, their mouths lined with many sharp teeth worked to tear into the ooze. Jursol dropped down from the branch as she landed on top of the beast. Her large body likely squishing it before her talons tore into it as well.

She looked like an angry feral animal as she rip at the thing, growling and slashing at it with her raptors. Not much would be left of the beast after they were done. As she calmed down, her raptors and her backed up to check the others. Leaving the mess they made of the beast to be burned. The raptors made what seemed to be happy noises after the mess was made.

[ V . D ] The kaldorei allowed her eyes to flutter shut for a moment, absorbing the change in the atmosphere as a means to open her mind to the world on a more primal level. The shift if the wind, the rustle of the leaves and the vibrations of the branches... She focused, long and hard.

Until that increasing volume of snarls gets just close enough before the kaldoreis burning silver gaze opens up into a determined and calculated expression.

With a magnificent burst of speed in hand with her significant speed to make use of the familiar advantages of such a dense forest... Pame sprints before swiftly drawing her sword, with the built momentum of lunging toward a nearby tree to carry her body up and around, applying all her force into swinging her blade upward before striking it down into the head of the lunging monster.

Her intensity came from deep within. Like unleashing her inner panther. Sleek, but strong.

Verzatea was by far more graceful in judgement and execution. Her slim fingers broke the jewel lock before slithering the bracelet off with a single twist and roll of her hand-- This force and motion would wiggle the pliable razor sharp blade into unraveling. With a final flick the woman pushes that jewel lock above the open hole before pushing that lock back into place to solidify the reformed shape of her once cold, firm steel bracelet.

This action would have occurred in the same few seconds between Tea pulling forth her black bladed short sword from its sheath on her hip. No more wands called for a return to the old tricks. In a similar burst of energy the slimmer sindorei strikes as the beast reaches her, swinging the blade of her azurite sword into the creatures flank with a casual twist and dodge to the left.

Her hair and dress skirts twirled with the dancers graceful motion-- A tribute to her passion of ballet for sure, no matter how neglected the talent was to her duties. True, her dodging made her cut the equivalent of just a scrape. But equally effective to taking on a direct hack of her simpler short sword which remained firmly at her side.

The responsibility of preserving their mission and protecting her dear ones had broken her moral codes of avoiding bloodshed. She'd always make exceptions when those beloved to her were threatened. And nothing about the snarling feline gave Tea "harmless" vibes; Especially with the break in the skies overhead as tendrils roll forth from the darkness.

[ L. K ] The beasts both Pame and Jursol had tangled with were not nearly as formidable as they had hoped to have been. In fact this was due to the fact that probably both the Kaldorei and Zandalari were both highly proficient in their hand to hand combats. And Jursol was a cheater, she had raptors.

Verzatea on the other hand was not as skilled; having given up her sword play at the expense for her skill in her witchcraft. Choosing the wand over the sword was in fact a great benefit for her; but in this case she was not nearly as honed in as the other assassins.

As such, when the beast on four legs was struck by the ballet like Confessor, it lashed out and wailed. Its body would snarl and shriek as it felt its haunches cut; and this only angered it more. The beast would twist on his back and swipe at the lower half of the Sindoreis legs, likely striking with his long claws against her outer left thigh.

But this was its only attack. Marseille was nearby and would hurl his tomahawk toward the beast striking it in the back of the head with a great deal of force. There was a thick thud followed by a splattering noise as the bone of the beasts skull met the forged steel of the Troll axe.

The blood burst from its shattered skull and sprayed across the gown of the Confessor. With deadly accuracy he would strike it down before anyone else would be injured. His slender lanky body rose upward as he took several long strides over to where Verzatea was; his fingers equally gaunt would curl around the wooden handle of his Amani axe and pry it from the split open brain cavity of the devourer.

He turned the blade and wiped it against his pant leg as he peered toward the Confessor.

"Are you alright?"

He'd ask softly, sheathing his blade and looking her over.

[ V . D ] The scratch was enough to tear into the thick fabric of her dress and allows an open in her only armor-- Among the direct hit it would cause the felines claws to dig and scratch across the woman's leg.

This would certainly bring her to her knee with the sheer force. Of course before she registered the strike of Mars's tomahawk, Teas instinct to survive had her poising the swords in a defensive manner-- which honestly could have been a fatal mistake with little ability to protect herself from a side swipe if the beast was smart.

The scenarios that could have unfolded from that was enough to momentarily paralyze Tea once she registered the abomination was dead. It could have been her instead of the creature if she wasn't careful. Shakily her arms lower, her brows twitching as they pinch together, eyes lifting to inspect Mars before slowly rising to her feet.

"I'll certainly need to practice a bit more, when we return home,"

She murmurs, shaken certainly.

Pame shoved the beast off the tree branches, sending it straight to the forest floor with a heavy thunk. Instantly the woman returns to watching the forest canopy and floor for any further threats.

[ L. K ] Marseille nodded his head at Verzatea; the two of them never truly getting along since day one, but they had tried, he had tried. And despite that fact; he would never let her fall in battle, she was still his ally.

Lazarius on the other hand was still struggling; even though the pain had come to a relative end, his brow was still sweating, his body shaking and his eyes bleeding a bit of his blackened ichor.

Clearly this was a strike to cripple him; an effort to cause those around him more trouble with the attack so that he could not help them. Perhaps a way to get them to be killed before getting to their destination?

He lay in the wet grass writhing slightly when Marseille arrived to his side.

"Master..."

The Shaldorei had said as he knelt beside him, his knees muddy and worn as his hands came to rest on Lazarius stomach and chest. Lazarius peered toward the old elf and nodded, he was fine; didn't need to be coddled and would use the relief of his Shade to help him sit.

Marseille gave a look toward Pame and sharply whistled. A whistle that the two of them shared when hunting and tracking. Something she would know and he would as well meant retreat to my position. The two of them becoming almost completely in sync over the months of their training.

[ V . D ] The sharp cry of a hawk in the distance was only challenged by the whoosh of a sudden wind carrying through the dense trees in a magnificent echo leaves trees rustling from a strong force. The kaldorei leapt from the branches and fell from her canopy; Joining the team once more, on ground level.

With the dirt beneath the woman's boots, and a sense of calm despite the storms threatening their smooth journey, Pame lowers her hood. With her face now exposed, the maiden was able to express her general disappointment, but overall she wasn't too bent out of shape of all that had transpired.

Verzatea limped slightly-- not out of pain, but general shock and acknowledgement of how close a call this could have been. It was astounding. But it was in the past and there was plenty of travel with a multitude of possible hostile encounters that awaited this journey. They needed to keep steady and focus.

But then again... Teas worry swelled as she focuses in on those around her. First the peers toward the girls, both Jursol and Pame, reviewing them closely for wounds before nodding in delight at their superb states.

"Lazarius?"

She cranes her neck to get a look of him whilst drawing closer after sheathing her short sword before fixing her remaining sword to fit around her wrist into a bracelet again,

"We need to move, dear. If you require something to tame the pain I can help you, on the condition you can genuinely say you are well enough to continue only then we shall "

To be continued in “In Mind of Misery, Manipulation, Part 4″

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grimmseye · 4 years

Text

The Color Red

Fandom: Critical Role, Campaign 2

Characters: Mollymauk Tealeaf, Yasha

Tags: Pre-stream, Protective Mollymauk, Protective Yasha, Flowers, Circus People being Pals.

A prompt request from @midnighter13 for Molly and Yasha back during their circus days, and what they might get up to on a day off.

Read on Ao3 here

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The florist’s shop is beautiful.

It’s a spilling of colors, delicate petals and curling leaves, stems in all shades of green. She sees some that are smaller than the nail on her pinky finger, some blooms would nestle snugly in both hands. Yasha couldn’t name a single one.

She gives a sigh, gazing through the window. The shop guard is giving her a wary look — she knows she cannot linger too long. Eventually the guard will approach her, question her. She’ll tell them she’s with the circus that rolled into town, but they will look at her face and her hair and her arms and her sword and still turn her away. Why she isn’t allowed to just admire the flowers, she couldn’t possibly know.

Yasha reaches into her pocket and pulls out a handful of silver pieces. A bouquet would run her gold. Still, maybe she could afford just a single stem, one of those bright red flowers that aren’t quite bloomed yet, the petals hugging each other like an upturned bell.

The guard eyes her visibly as she approaches, and follows her into the shop. This is fine, and common. The sensation of a gaze on the back of her neck still is not comfortable. Mollymauk — he thrives under a spotlight, catches attention with his tongue and teases it between his teeth. She tries to mimic his posture, straightening upright and putting a swagger into her hips. She does not have a tail to wag as she taps heel-to-toe through the shop.

The customers are quick to move out of her way, letting her examine a basket of these flowers. One Rose: 1S it advertises. A silver piece could be the difference between having a meal or not one night, but this bloom is just so gorgeous.

The shop bell rings. She does not look up, until a far smaller hand is in hers and Mollymauk is smiling into her face. “We need to go,” he breathes.

Yasha’s face darkens. She encloses his hand within his own, the two of them breaking for the door. The guard moves for just a moment, a hand moving to his sword.

“Pardon me, sir,” Molly croons, voice sugary-sweet even in his winded state. “We don’t mean any harm.”

His eyes glaze over. A flush rises on his cheeks as he stands aside and motions them through with a stammered, “Of — of course.”

Something about the charm he can conjure always makes Yasha’s skin prickle, though it’s not quite the bristling from the first time she’d witnessed it. Backing away from him, a hand on her sword, knowing better than to be convinced by the shock and the hurt on his face and the furious tears beading in his eyes as he balled his hands into such tight fists that his palms dripped blood. Now she knows what it really is. A moment of confusion, no different than flaunting a pretty smile on an exceptionally pretty face. Mollymauk has never hurt someone without cause, and that is enough to secure Yasha’s faith.

They shoulder out the door, and at once she sees the issue. There is a team of guards patrolling the streets, and they turn at the sudden motion. They point, shouting, and Mollymauk yanks on Yasha’s hand to send them both bolting down the street.

They let go of each other, paces matched between Molly’s agility and Yasha’s long stride. He pulls ahead, skidding like a cat around a corner and into some back alley. There’s a yelp, Yasha catching the sight of Molly breaking away from some civilian he’d just crashed into without apology. Yasha clips her with her shoulder as she barrels through, knocking the woman back to the ground.

At the other end of the alley, a team of guards rush past, and then abruptly double back. “Yash, need a boost!” Mollymauk calls, feet skittering to halt himself and dart back her way. She drops down, fingers knitted, catching his foot and heaving upwards. Molly lands with a clatter of roof tiles.

There’s a telltale series of clicks and then the thwack of crossbows firing. Pain flares in her back, her arms. Molly snarls in infernal, a phrase she recognizes as approximately meaning I’ll eat your heart out! One guard cries in pain and a bolt whizzes past her ear.

The pain pulses, a sneer pulling at her lips. She can feel the heat of blood and adrenalin and the muscles tensing. As Mollymauk skitters, nervous and dripping blood from his nose — they have an agreement: you run, get me out later. If they’re both caught, they’ll be useless for each other.

But she’s not getting caught. Yasha gives a shout as she surges upwards, catching the roof’s edge and clawing her way up. Molly puts a hand on her arm, his tail flagging excitedly as he beams, says, “You’re amazing, let’s go.”

They leap across three rooftops before hitting a main thoroughfare, leading to the city limits. Molly tucks and rolls as he lands, Yasha takes the impact. He hisses, scolds, “You’re going to fuck something up like that!”

“I can still run,” she says, and shoves him forward.

There’s a sudden row of snap, snap, snap. One, two, three bolts strike into Molly’s side. As he’s pitching forward, his foot slides out and back, he hits the ground face first and then immediately seizes with a gasp of pain. Blood soaks through his clothes, bright red bleeding over white. It fills Yasha’s vision.

There’s a trio of guards, each of them loading a fresh bolt into their crossbows. One stands back, a horn blowing loud and clear into the sky, summoning more ants to swarm them.

Yasha’s breath huffs out of her. A vein bulges in her forehead, hefting her sword to let it glint in the evening sun. She bares her teeth as she stalks towards them, feels the heat of her own bloog suddenly go cold, feels her hair stand on end, feels something dark and dreadful work its way out of her chest as she screams out at these guards in pain and fury and a promise to inflict Mollymauk’s pain back on them tenfold.

They drop their crossbows and bolt. A feral, raging part of her wants to give chase and crack their skulls into the ground. But Mollymauk is gurgling on a laugh behind her, and that is far more important. Yasha sheathes her sword, rushing back to him and falling to her knees, cradling Mollymauk in her arms. He’s so little like this.

“I’m fine,” he smiles at her, eyes squinted. “Actually this hurts like a son of a bitch and I need medical attention, but I’m breathing!”

Yasha stands, cradling him close against her chest. He nuzzles shamelessly against the curve there and mumbles something about the best pillow, and Yasha’s lips twitch in a faint smile as she carries Mollymauk out beyond the city’s gates. No one moves to stop her.

The circus has an encampment just a little ways out, far enough that they can pack up and run if the guard comes after them. Their resident healer chews Molly out as they pull the bolts out of his flesh and jab at the wounds until he’s cursing in the devil’s tongue. Yasha growls at them, then, and they get back to healing.

“Sorry for the fright,” he laughs. “Turns out it’s pretty offensive to call yourself an angel there. They shoulda sent you, then they’d’a bought it.”

Yasha snorts and taps his forehead. “Me? You don’t believe that.”

“‘Course I do! I’d never lie to you.” He winks at her, and Yasha scoffs.

The thing is, it’s true.

“I’m just glad you were at that florist. Did you get anything?”

“Mmm.” Yasha pulls out her handful of silver, playing with the coins. “No. That’s probably best, though. I would have wasted money on just a flower.”

Molly frowns. “Well, a waste. I guess you don’t want this, then?”

He pulls up the sleeve of his coat. Blooming in his palm, lines scratched into his arm from the thorns, is a single red rose. He plucks it out, losing his grin for a moment to cuss and rub his arm. “Those things sting, you know?” He smiles again, softer this time, as he offers it to her, a flower as vibrant as the red of his eyes.

Yasha is covering her mouth, she realizes. She lowers her hand to take it, cradling the bloom. “Molly,” she breathes. “You just took this?”

“Well, I was sure to drop a silver piece on the way out,” he smiles, and bumped his horns against her arm. Yasha wraps her arm around him to pull him close — and immediately lets go as he cusses and clutches his injured side.

#Mollymauk Tealeaf #mollymauk #yasha #yasha nyoordin #critical role #cr2 #cr #my writing #cr fic

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sunnymoon-sunshine · 5 years

Text

“Good morning.”

The words rang loud and clear, crisp through the mist of the morning, a trill as cheerful as a bird’s song. It broke the silence that had hung in the air like a fog. It drew her out of her own world, where only she and the scuffles of prey existed.

It also startled the prey.

As the smell of her now-gone breakfast grew stale, she turned her eyes to the source. It was a window, a human invention. A gateway to another world entirely. Ever closed, usually, yet on this day it yawned freely, an open invitation to investigate. Bramble crouched, clenching her muscles in anticipation, before her leap allowed her paws to grace the wood by the object of her curiosity. She peered through the gate, covered with a fine screen, yet the world within still visible.

She was greeted by another cat. Soft, much softer than herself, cream in color with a ginger mask and flame-tipped paws. Soft and round, with her belly pouching out and her tail tucked neatly over her paws. Round eyes, filled to the brim with curiosity that threatened to overflow. Her pelt was clean, unmarked, much unlike herself.

With a tip of her head, the housecat spoke again. “Good morning.” And, when Bramble said nothing, she chirped, “And how are you?”

She remained quiet, clenching her teeth together as if chewing on her words. It was a soft, pretty housecat – someone who wasn’t worth a mouse tail, she thought. Someone who couldn’t cut it on her own. It was a shame to cat kind, not to be able to stand on your own four legs.

The housecat’s tail curled, her ears flicked forward. “My, you look tired. Might you rest? For a little while?”

Bramble was about to answer, to firmly tell her that a cat with no humans to fuss over them also has no time to rest. But the questions continued to pour from the housecat’s mouth.

“Who are you? It’s so rare to see anyone in my garden. It gets awfully lonely without conversation. I had so many siblings, but I haven’t been around them in ages, and I just have a penchant for a chat, you know?” And then, seeming to realize she was actually conversing with another, repeated, “Who are you?”

“Bramble.”

“A lovely name! Those are thorns, aren’t they? My grandfather on my mother’s side was a wildcat, you know. He knew all sorts of wild things. According to rumors, at the very least.” The housecat seemed to barely need to pause for breath. “I’m Samona.”

“Samona.” Bramble repeated, tasting the name along her tongue as she spoke. It was a fine name – it certainly marked that of a pet. “Born housecat?”

“Yes, indeed. Though again, my mother’s father was definitely a feral cat! Really wild. So I have wild blood. What of yourself?”

“…Wild cat.”

Samona’s mouth fell open. It seemed to Bramble that it was very likely this fluffy cloud of a cat had only ever had fanciful stories to paint the picture of what a wild cat is. “You’re a wild cat? My, that must be why you look so rough.” She said, with a click of her tongue.

“You look soft.” Bramble muttered back, her ears flicking back, the language of her body speaking louder than her words. Samona caught on – cats could speak however they pleased, but a raised hackle was universal.

“It wasn’t meant to be rude! My mistake. I just haven’t ever seen - I just don’t have many to talk to these days. It’s terribly lonely, you know? Occasionally old fat Pete will come waddling by, for his humans let him roam freely, but all he does is sit and yowl in my window. He’s such a brute.” She sniffed, her distaste clear. “He’s more brutish than any feral, I’d say.”

Those words made Bramble’s whiskers quiver. “I could stop that.” She offered, sheathing and unsheathing her claws. “He won’t be a problem after that.”

Samona gasped, her tail brushing out. Less scared, and more surprised. “Oh, goodness no. But there is something you can do for me.”

“What would that be?”

“Come talk to me again.”

Bramble did. Time and time again, as the thick leaves of summer bowed to the crisp winds of fall, her paws wove a path to the window. The glass remained raised, the world within only a thin mesh away. She’d looked past Samona many times before, to the unnatural caricatures of nature that she’d called furniture. The soft light so unlike the sun, the plush cushions that littered the floor. Samona favored those, for many times Bramble witnessed her scramble off them to reach the window at the first scent of her feral friend.

Bramble found her fascinating. Odd, soft, perhaps a little cloudy. Yet her eyes were chips of amber stone, and just as sharp.

Samona found her equally as thrilling to see. Tough, scarred, and filled with stories from the outside. Dry, yet charming in a way. Though it left Bramble with several mixed feelings on the subject.

Yet the days grew shorter, the prey grew wiser, and soon they began making their bundles and burrows for the winter. The chill brought the ever-looming danger of starvation, a reality growing sharper each year. Humans did not care for scent markers – they took and took and took some more, until there was no place for either her, or the precious meals that struggled just as hard as she did. So it was with some amount of pride that she carried her catch to the waiting window, the dead mouse hanging limply in her jaws. She dropped it on the windowsill and waited for Samona’s scrambling paws to reach her. It was a gift, a sign of friendship between two souls, even if it couldn’t be shared through the screen.

She was not prepared for the horrified yowl that erupted from the housecat’s mouth. Her fur bristled, and she looked from Bramble to the creature in shock. “Did you kill it?”

“Yes?” Bramble spoke, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“But why?” The question caught Bramble off guard. “But why did you kill it?”

“It’s food.”

“It was a life!”

“So? I’m a life too. The slop they feed you were lives!” Bramble spat, standing up on her toes and glaring through the window. Most housecats would flinch at the sight. Samona did not. She glared back with equal force.

“Maybe, but you just killed that poor thing.”

“It’s survival. Something you’ve never had to experience.” Her pride ran through her, red hot from head to toe. She had survived for years now, on her own. If her friend was dumped the next day, she would be dead the very next.

“Have you never cared for another life?” Samona cried out, looking distraught as ever. “Have you never cared for another soul?”

“Have you never had to struggle?” Bramble roared back, her frustration peaking. They glared a long moment, before Samona sighed a long sigh, deflate into a pile of fat and fur, much like one of the cushions that littered the ground.

“Perhaps not. But I care.”

“And I care to survive.”

And the two parted once again, in a flurry of heated hissing and bristled tails.

It was only after a dozen or so moonlit nights went by, after the leaves fell and crackled underpaw, that Bramble’s steps slowed whenever she came near the place that housed her friend. Their fight left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she couldn’t face that soft face, that inquisitive look, the fire in her eyes that matched her paws.

But she cared. More than she would ever admit. And so her paws made their way to the window. It was still wide open, even this late in the season. Yet the warmth of light was gone inside. She narrowed her eyes, searching, worry creeping up her spine like a cold rain trickling through her fur.

“Samona?”

It was quiet. Horrifically, awfully quiet. A silence that hung, unbidden and unwelcome, when all she wanted to do was yowl to break the silence.

And then scrabbling, soft steps hitting wood, a figure launching itself at the window.

Samona was thin. Gaunt, her fur dull and every rib sticking painfully out into view. They had left her here, she told Bramble. Her human owners had locked up the house and left and never looked back. She watched them leave through the open window. She had been her ever since. Starving yet surviving, if only by a whisker.

“They didn’t care. It was a fanciful dream, to assume they cared.” She spoke softly, exhausted from the effort. “I wish I were you. I wish I could just survive. I wish it wouldn’t hurt, and I wish I didn’t care.”

Bramble stared at her through the window. They were two wildly different cats, from two wildly different worlds, and yet they were both cats. And the only thing separating them was a flimsy film.

She sat on her haunches, then she placed her paws on the screen. She carefully unsheathed claws, well used yet sharp from dedicated sharpening.

And then she tore at the screen. Clawing, plucking, ripping with strength found in years of hunting and fighting and caring for herself, she ripped apart the barrier that kept their worlds separate.

Samona was as soft and dainty out in the grass as she looked in the house. Her eyes were wide as saucers. Thin as she might be, her spine sticking out and her fur clutching her frame, she slowly closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths. Opened her mouth to taste the air.

And then she turned to Bramble and headbutted her flank.

No words, but a silent thank you.

“Thank you, mouse.” Her words were soft, as if she didn’t want Bramble to hear them. Bramble always heard them, though. And only made fun of her a few dozen times. “I’m sorry for what I must do.”

“It can’t hear you.” Bramble reminded her, yet again. But Samona paid her no heed, instead tucking into her mid-winter meal. It was the longest night of the year, yet they were huddled out of the snow. Samona had given old fat Pete an equally fat bird that she’d caught herself as a gift, and before Bramble could chew her out for wasting a meal on a fat housecat, he’d offered them a nice shelter in his garden. They sat, huddled in the shed, away from the billowing winds that cut through the thickest fur, and away from the snow that sapped every bit of warmth left in your body. And it was nice, Bramble had to admit, to have someplace to stay. And it was only out of Samona’s kindness that they had even the chance.

Samona, however, insisted it was Bramble’s strict teaching. Her will for not only herself, but for Samona to survive. They toughed out the fall together, and much of the winter too.

And together they would stay, for Samona could never live on her own, and Bramble could never live without the warmth of the housecat tucked neatly beside her. The warmth of her caring, which blazed like fire itself. She cared, cared so much and so hard. It was something Samona teased her about – “I’d never have thought a wild cat could care so much about someone other than herself,” She’d purr, “Especially you.”

Neither did Bramble, to be fair.

The night was long, the wind howled, and yet she felt herself drifting to sleep. Before she did, she was sure to mutter the same words she always did, every night. She could spend an entire day never speaking once, but without fail, the words would always find their way out, soft as a blanket of cloud, a comfort to her friend.

“Goodnight.”

#sunnymoon's writings #short story #cats #fiction #warrior cats inspired #basically at least #long post #this is my short story for my creative writing class!#I chose to write about cats because it was the easiest thing for me to write :)#someone in my class took the portal to another world thing literally and was like #it's very futuristic and confusing and I don't get it #and I was just like #oh okay #I'm a little proud of it! it came out to little over seven pages and I wrote it all in one night :)#don't be like me #pace your writing #hope you have a good weekend!

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crispychrissy · 5 years

Text

Cat Scratch Fever - Part 2

Summary: As the reader’s body continues to change, she finds herself in a bad spot when her primal instincts take over. Characters: Reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel Word Count: 3631 Warnings: Angst, shit hitting the fan, mention of minor character deaths (not graphic), more angst, language, sexuality, fluff A/N: Part two and it is now complete! Nothing like a good cat fight, right? Right? It was beta’d by @kittenofdoomage and gif made by me. Enjoy! -Part 1-

You felt someone shifting you into their arms and carrying you, but the hand that was stroking you was now scratching at your ears, so you remained with your eyes closed. Sam and Dean’s voices were surrounding you, but you couldn’t understand what they were saying. It sounded muffled and far away, like they were on a speakerphone across the room. The arms that were holding you deposited you onto something soft, and you drifted off, not feeling the cold metal of the shackle as it was fastened around your ankle.

The next time you woke, you rolled to your hands and knees and stretched, leaning down so your arms were out in front of you on the soft blanket and your ass was up in the air.

“Y/N?”

You turned around quickly and tilted your head when you saw Sam. It was then when you realized you were chained in the dungeon, and the shackle around your ankle jingled as you shifted towards him. Fear bristled inside you and you immediately got into a crouch and growled, trying to shake the chain off your right foot.

Sam said something to you, his palm facing you to calm you, but you couldn’t understand what he said. His lips were moving but you could only hear mumbled speech in a soft baritone voice. It sounded like the adults on the old Peanuts cartoons, and your eyes went wide. Opening your mouth to say something, you began to talk, but your words came out as squeaks, whimpers, and pathetic mewls.

Sam noticed when you began to panic, and he waved his arm to get your attention. Holding out both palms, he moved his hands up and down trying to placate you. Placing one hand on his chest, he took a deep breath, then pointing at you before doing it again.

Right, he was telling you to breathe and relax.

Nodding, you took a deep breath and tried to calm the animal inside you that was begging to be released. Part of you wanted to run to Sam for comfort, and another part of you wanted to drag him to the ground and tear his throat out. The internal battle between the logical side and the beast side of you was hard to contain, and when Sam began approaching you, you shook your head, afraid for his safety.

Sam offered an understanding smile and took a few steps back before he waved once more to get your attention. He raised his arm and used a finger to draw a circle above his head. When you raised a brow and tilted your head, he sighed and looked down at the ground, deep in thought. A few moments passed before he waved his hand again and pressed his palms together in front of him, closing his eyes, like he was… like he was praying.

Castiel.

Nodding, you smiled and tried to say the word Castiel, but it only came out as a growled squeak. Groaning, you slumped to the ground and rested your chin on your crossed front paws. The spell had definitely spread; you were now almost completely covered in fur and your entire body from the waist down was that of a cat. It was likely also the reason why you couldn’t understand anything besides your name. Looking up at Sam, you could feel tears stinging your eyes, earning a nod of sympathy from the younger Winchester.

Over the next twelve hours while you waited for Castiel to arrive, you continued to change. The human body parts that had remained before were completely gone, replaced by fur and the bone structure of a large cat. When that change happened, it was the most painful thing you’d ever experienced. Both Sam and Dean came running into the room at the sound of your painful roaring, watching as your human bones snapped and elongated, shifting to the anatomy of a feline.

You could hear them arguing, based on how loud they were and their tone of voice, but you could tell they both wanted to comfort you. It was too dangerous, though. The animal side of you was winning the war, and you were starving. The meat they were giving you could barely satiate your hunger, and you wanted nothing more than to break free of the chain the brothers had moved from your ankle to around your neck while you were sleeping.

When Castiel finally arrived, you were practically feral. You were now completely changed into a big cat, like a puma or lioness, and there was nothing human remaining now, only the soft voice of logic still in the back of your head. Dean and Sam had kept their distance as you continued to thrash against the chain and growl, snapping your jaws. The three of them spoke for a few minutes before Castiel approached you.

“Can you understand me?” he asked. You immediately stopped moving and calmed, sitting up on your haunches with wide eyes as you nodded, making him smile. “I know you can’t speak, but I can read your thoughts. Is that okay?”

“Yes. Can you hear me?” you replied in your mind.

“I can. Are you okay? Has the spell caused you any harm?” Cas crouched down in front of you and placed his hand on your head.

“No.” You closed your eyes at the warmth of his touch. “Changing into a cat was really painful, but I’m not in pain right now. I just can’t seem to control myself. All I want to do is kill the boys and eat them. I didn’t expect the spell to be this… potent.”

“I can see the spell,” Castiel murmured. “It seems to be feeding off the anger you were feeling toward Dean when you cast it.” Dean stepped forward and he said something, gesturing wildly at you. “You will, Dean. She’s going to be fine. The spell backfired and took root as a curse, making her not only become the animal she was trying to change you into, but a stronger and more revenge-driven version of that animal, feeding off primal instinct.”

Dean said something, smiling, and Sam slapped his arm before you turned your attention back to Cas. “What do I need to do?”

Castiel stroked the fur on your head and smiled. “Nothing, I will take care of it. Angels have a calming effect when they are in proximity of animals, but once I leave, you will return to your feral state.” He plucked some hair from your head and you grunted. “I will get started on the reversal.” As he was leaving the room, he plucked some hair from Dean’s head as well, making him yelp and you snorted.

Dean crossed his arms and pointed a finger at you, and although you couldn’t understand what he was saying, you know he was trying to scold you. Once Castiel left the room, you could feel the animal side of you begin to take over once more, and your claws scraped against the concrete floor as you raised up and lowered your head, glaring at the Winchesters.

You moved backward until your back paws were resting against the wall and you lowered yourself into a crouch. Sam’s eyes went wide in recognition and he immediately began running toward the door, dragging a very confused Dean with him. You pushed off the wall and sprinted forward, grinning when you felt the collar around your neck pull tightly before the chain snapped under the sudden pressure of your pounce.

Now free from your tether, you could only imagine Sam and Dean as two giant flannel covered paper balls that needed to be killed. Leaping forward, you gave chase, but Dean wasn’t able to shut the door in time, allowing you to swipe a paw at his leg as he scrambled around the corner of the doorway into the hallway.

Slithering through the slightly open door, you turned, just as the Winchesters disappeared down the hallway to your right, making you break out into a sprint, quickly catching up to them as they ran ahead of you. Both boys were yelling your name along with other things you couldn’t understand, but you continued to follow them closely, swiping your paw whenever Dean or Sam’s legs were within reach to try and trip them.

The brothers turned quickly down another hallway and you tried to twist your tail to change your direction and momentum, but your paws slipped on the smooth floor of the bunker, sending you sliding sideways into the wall. You slammed into the tile wall with a grunt and regained your footing quickly, sniffing the air to track your prey. Heightened sense of smell easily allowed you to follow the unique musky scent of the Winchesters, and you began galloping down the hallway to catch up.

Tracking the scent down a familiar hallway, you knew the brothers were headed for the front door. If they couldn’t trap you in the dungeon, they’d trap you in the bunker while Castiel worked on the reversal. The anger you were feeling began to burn like a wildfire, and you growled, picking up your speed. You had to get to them before they locked you in; you didn’t want to be fixed. While being a cat was strange, the feeling of freedom and power was addictive.

Coming around the corner into the war room, you snarled when you saw Sam and Dean at the top of the stairs fumbling with the door to the bunker. You were so wrapped up and focused on killing the Winchesters, that you hardly recognized movement coming from your right as you stalked closer to the stairs.

You pounced forward with a feral roar, but the last thing you saw was a tan trenchcoat and a red powder being blown in your face, followed by darkness.

The firm mattress against your back made you shift, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Throbbing behind your eyelids made you reach up and grab your head, and when you realized you felt skin and human fingers instead of a paw and fur, your eyes shot open.

“Hello, Y/N.”

Blinking, you turned your head toward where the voice came from, seeing Castiel sitting down in a chair next to the dresser in your room in the bunker. “Cas?”

“Yes. The Winchesters wanted me to stay with you since angels are a neutral species.” He straightened his tie and narrowed his eyes at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was possessed by the world’s angriest cat,” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing when your head began to throb again. “How are Sam and Dean? I didn’t hurt them, did I?”

Castiel shook his head. “I was able to stop you from killing them. Barely, I might add. Luckily the spell reversal rendered you unconscious and you changed back into your human form shortly after we carried you to your bedroom.” You sat upright, looking down at your body clad in a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt. “Don’t worry, I was the only one with you when you changed back. Human nudity does not bother me, but I assumed you would want to be clothed. I apologize if I crossed a line.”

“No, it’s fine, Cas. Thank you. I’m glad you got here when you did, I don’t know what I would have done if I hurt the boys.” You frowned, looking down, noticing the handcuff wrapped around your ankle, attached to a chain that disappeared over the side of the bed.

Castiel noticed you staring at the chain and stood. “It’s just a precaution, we didn’t know if the spell would still be affecting your mind even after you changed back… but it appears that everything has returned to normal. Would you like to see Sam and Dean?”

You hesitated for a moment. Did they even want to see you? You tried to curse Dean and ended up cursing yourself and almost killing them. It wasn’t something that would be easily forgivable, but it wasn’t something you could avoid forever. “Yeah, Cas. Can you grab them for me?”

Castiel nodded and walked to the door, patting your unchained foot comfortingly as he walked past, shutting the door behind him. You moved up the bed so your back was against the headboard, and a few moments later there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” you said, and the door opened. When nobody came in right away, you leaned forward, but before you could speak again, a yellow paper ball sailed through the air from the open door and landed on the floor in front of your bed. Sighing with a groan, you rolled your eyes. “I’m not a cat anymore, guys.”

Dean poked his head in and smiled. “Just making sure.” He opened the door the rest of the way and you smiled at Sam as they both walked in. Sam took a seat on the edge of the bed and Dean sat down in the chair Castiel vacated.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, resting his large palm on your lower leg.

Nodding, you scratched the skin around the handcuff on your ankle. “I’m fine. No lingering need to kill you or -”

“Curl up in Sam’s lap and claw him until he pets you?” Dean finished for you, a cheeky grin tugging at his lips.

“No, Dean. No desire to be pet or chase paper balls or anything else cat-like.” You paused for moment and sniffled, looking up at both brothers. “I’m so sorry, guys. This really blew up in my face. I mean, I ending up trying to kill you all because I wanted to get back at Dean.” Glancing over at Dean, he was already staring you, an unreadable but hardened expression on his face.

“Y/N, it’s okay. I knew you were going to plan some kind of revenge against Dean, I could see it in your eyes when we were getting ready to leave the motel yesterday. I just didn’t expect you to use magic.” Sam glanced over at his brother and sighed, obviously sensing the tension in the air. “Alright, I’m going to let you two talk,” Sam said as he got up from the bed. He leaned down and kissed your forehead before whispering, “If you need me, just text me.”

“Thanks, Sam,” you replied softly with a nod. He smiled and then looked over at Dean, having a silent conversation with him for a few moments before leaving the room. When Dean let out an exasperated sigh and looked down at the floor, you raised a brow. “What, Dean?”

“S’not important,” he murmured. “I just wanted to apologize for how I’ve been acting. I didn’t realize it was having an affect on you.”

Scoffing, you crawled down the bed and sat on the edge, moving the chain still attached to your ankle out of the way. “That’s bullshit, Dean, and you know it. You’re going to sit there and tell me you had no idea that hearing you bang random women was affecting me? How many times have I begged you to come back to the motel alone and get some sleep? How many times have I shouted at you to keep it down? How many times have I had to sleep in the back seat because I got no sleep the night before?”

Dean had shrunken back into the chair, his eyes focused on his hands in his lap like a scolded child. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

“No, Dean. You did think, just not with the head on your shoulders.” Rolling your eyes, you kept talking, cutting off what he was about to say. “And another thing! I get that you need to blow off steam, but come on. You sleep with three times the amount of people that Sam and I do. I know you only do it after rough cases, which we’ve seen plenty of recently, but you shouldn’t whore yourself out like that, Dean. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m not a whore,” he growled through clenched teeth.

“Then talk to me so I can understand! Why do you do it?”

“Because it’s the one thing I can do that I can’t fuck up!” he shouted back. “We lost two teenagers on that last hunt, all because I couldn’t get there in time before that vampire snapped their necks.”

You expression softened. “Dean, that’s not your f -”

“Don’t you dare say it’s not my fault. I was the one who was sweeping the basement. I was the one who hesitated and couldn’t kill it in time. I was the one who had to watch those two kids have their entire lives stolen from them.” He paused to take a deep breath and unclench his fists. “I sleep with random townies because I know sex isn’t something I can screw up. I know how to do it, and I’m good at it. I can at least get that job done so everyone goes home happy.”

“Dean -”

“You know who isn’t going home happy?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small plastic rectangles you instantly recognized as ID cards. “Brandon Roberts,” he flipped to the second ID, “and Angelo Davis.” He tossed the cards on the floor to the right of your bed and you glanced down at them before looking back at Dean.

“You didn’t kill those kids.” He opened his mouth to interrupt you, but you held up your hand. “No, listen to me. You didn’t kill them. After you stormed out of the farmhouse, Sam and I checked the bodies. They had both been turned already, Dean.”

“The cure! I could have saved them!” he roared, standing from his seat and gesturing wildly.

“You didn’t know which one turned them! You know the cure is a one-and-done kind of thing, and if you don’t have the correct vamp’s blood, it kills them.” You saw his shoulders drop, but you continued. “You have to realize that the vamp killed them in front of you just to mess with your head. We would have had to kill them anyways, no matter what, so stop blaming yourself for something that was inevitable.”

Dean’s hardened and angry expression slowly faded into something that was akin to the look on a child’s face after they break their favorite toy. He was hurt, and you could see it now. The random sex was a coping mechanism for him. It was how he coped with grief, loss, and other things that can slowly consume a hunter’s mind.

“Dean.” When he didn’t look up at you, you sighed. “Dean, come on look at me.” He slowly lifted his head and you weren’t sure if it was the low light in the room, but you thought you could see tears brimming in the bottom of his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry you blame yourself for things when they go wrong, and I’m sorry for overreacting and trying to curse you to get back at you. I just wish you would have told me, so I could have understood instead of thinking you were just an asshole who enjoyed really loud sex.”

Dean let out a wry laugh. “But I am an asshole who enjoys really loud sex, though,” he chuckled, making you smile. “I didn’t know he turned those kids, but I shouldn’t have hesitated and that’s on me. And before you interrupt and say it’s not my fault, I know. I know it’s not my fault and we would have had to kill them anyways. It just… it doesn’t make it hurt less, you know?”

“I know, Dean. Hunters deal with tragedy and loss every day, and if having sex with random women helps you deal, then that’s okay. Just make sure you’re being safe,” you playfully glared at him, “and try to get a motel room away from where I’m sleeping. And if you wanted, I can show you what I do to deal with stress, it might be something you’d enjoy as well.”

“Yoga and deep breathing?” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes with a small smile tugging at your lips. “I think I’ll stick to my booze, bacon, and babes… but thank you for the offer.”

“The offer stands if you ever change your mind,” you added and he nodded. “I’m just really glad you don’t hate me. I thought for the longest time you were being obnoxious on purpose because you didn’t want me hunting with you and were trying to annoy me until I left.”

Dean’s grin immediately disappeared and he vehemently shook his head. “No way. I, uhh, I actually thought you hated me, to be honest. You were always in a bad mood after hunts and wouldn’t talk to me… but now I guess I know the real reason why.”

“Lack of sleep can turn even the nicest person into a grouchy asshole,” you mused, wiggling your ankle to move the chilly metal to a more comfortable position.

Dean got up from his seat and came over to the bed, producing a small silver key from his jeans and uncuffed the restraint from your ankle. He sat down next to you and smiled. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never wanted you to think I didn’t want you with us or not want you as a friend. How about we start over?” He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Dean Winchester; monster hunter, pie eater, and lover of classic rock. Nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand with a smile, appreciating his sincerity. “Hi Dean, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Hunter, ex-cat, and good friends with the Winchester brothers. Nice to meet you, too.”

Forevers [CLOSED]: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busy-fangirl @growningupgeek @trashimaginezblog @jensen-gal @spnbaby-67 @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @mereka18 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @turnttoverr @saxxxology @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @kararanae23 @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @quiessilva-meriff @wildefire @serienjunkiegirl @alexwinchester23 @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @moonstar86 @missihart23 @mrs-meghan-winchester @miss-rebel-without-applause @dean-winchesters-bacon

#spnfanfic #dean x reader #sam x reader #castiel x reader #platonic #platonic winchesters #platonic!sam x reader #platonic!dean x reader #platonic!castiel x reader #reader insert #cat scratch fever #part 2 #cat spell #animal transformation #angst

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mercurial-muses · 5 years

Text

Ghost - Of Shifting Planes and Standoffs

(( Thanks to Eidolon's writer for helping me coax Ghost’s (aka Yavi’s) muse out of her dark corner! ))

The goblin has only just begun to consciously process the sounds of his companion’s death when the attacker slams into him from behind. Teeth sink into the back of his neck and snap shut to sever the spinal column even as claws meet front-and-center and rip outward, literally tearing the last breath from the creature’s throat. The last image the goblin’s gaze captures is of a grinning saber with eyes darker than the abyss that now claims him.

The big cat paws at the broken body between her feet and sniffs at this most recent kill. Her lips peel back from her teeth and her nose wrinkles. Disgusting. With a quiet sneeze, the saber bats the corpse to the side and lifts her head high.

She freezes.

Ears twitch at the subtle changes in the forest’s song. Nostrils flared, she scents the air and then expels the breath in a chuff, a sound that carries the hint of a sharp and humorless laugh. She knows that smell, the noises. The cat has been careless.

It isn’t long at all before a small group of Sentinels creeps into view, muscles tense and weapons ready. Knowing she’s missed her chance to hide or run without drawing unwanted attention, the saber simply lowers her belly to the ground and waits.

One of the soldiers- the youngest, by the looks of it - spots the cat and gasps. Bumbling to a stop, she studies the predator with wide and wild eyes as she rests a hand atop her dagger’s grip. The stink of her fear taints the wind, and the saber’s nose curls again.

“Ghost.” The awed whisper comes from the woman at the front of the pack, the leader. The elf smiles at her companions. Doesn’t she and the others realize that the new one’s fear, and their lack of it, makes the youngster the smartest of them all? While the cat- or at least the idea of her -is familiar, that doesn’t make her a friend.

Before her annoyance can twist into something more dangerous, the white saber rises to her feet and melts into the trees like the name she unwillingly bears.

When she is certain she has put the Sentinels far behind her, the cat finds a hollow beneath a mass of twisted roots and beds down to rest. She is hungry, having left her kill behind. But more importantly, she is distracted.

The elven leader’s reaction to her makes it obvious that she has spent too many weeks in this place, has assisted the aid parties more than she should have. Their relief to see her, and the reliance that likely came with it, was a danger to everyone… to none more than her.

It is time to go, a thought that weighs heavy on the saber’s mind as she lets sleep take her.

- - - - -

Hunting a massive buck along the border of the astral and dream demiplanes, the Eidolon's powerful strides take it within inches, then millimeters of claiming its ethereal prey.

Seconds alone separate the two preternatural entities, only for the other beast's desperation to turn it toward the thin veil separating the two demiplanes from one another.

Just like that, to the Astral Guardian, its prey ceases to exist.

Slowing to a prowl, the predator tentatively presses its massive paw against the veil's primordial essence; unaware that this produces an imprint on the other side.

For those beings prowling along the Dreamways, a large, succulent and weary four-point buck has materialized out of nothingness…

- - - - -

Black eyes snap open. Muscles bunch and the saber slowly gets to her feet. As conscious thought catches up with instinct, the cat realizes she is on the hunt. Moonlight spills over the tangled roots, creating pools of shadow between swaths of eerie light. Making use of the depths, Ghost moves slowly to a place where she can watch without being seen and leap without being hindered.

A short distance away stands an elk, lines of muscle drawn in shadow and a massive crown of antlers on his head. If she were not as hungry, as feral, the saber might have found the buck majestic. But it is only prey.

And it is hers.

Curling her claws into the soft earth for purchase, the cat launches forward from her hiding spot and lands only feet from the beast. She leaps again, her salivating maw opening and paws spread, eager to take her kill. Teeth and claws find nothing, snap closed around a ragged and quiet growl. The trees ahead echo with the crash of the elk’s escape.

Air bursts from her lungs with every footfall as Ghost pursues the buck. Her muscles burn as she demands more speed than she has the energy to fuel, but it works. She is gaining ground, and she has one more chance. She leaps a heartbeat after her quarry. And when the elk disappears before her, no throwing of weight or scrambling of limbs is enough to keep her momentum from carrying her into the unknown behind him.

- - - - -

The unexpected return of the stag through the veil barrels Eidolon back several yards; the impact so swift and unforgiving that it scarcely has opportunity to recognize that his prey has returned.

What it does note is its prey's open and unguarded belly. Raking with ferocious abandon, Eidolon clamps hard at it's throat, crushing it's larynx; only recognizing the presence of another predator as its jaws clamp more firmly around the stag's throat.

The beast's desperate roar is strangled out as it's larynx and voice box are punctured and crushed. The inarticulate sounds that follow are but pale reflections of the excruciating pain it endures as it's belly is ripped open and its intestines descended down along the ephemeral landscape to catch along brambles, brush, rocks and trees as it slowly bleeds out. It's the circle of life. Predators hunt. Prey falls.

As the last vestiges of life begin to fade, Eidolon's luminous pale blue eyes fixate on the other predator. A feral feline. Images flash through Ghost's mind. A tranquil river wending its way through a natural looking village fit to hold less than thirty people. Warm fires, and fresh hunting. Open sky and stars visible as early as twilight. All of it is followed by an inescapable sense of belonging and peace.

The white saber pins her ears back, bares her teeth. The placid scenes still her and dampen the urge to attack, but she does not stand down. She has too long been a stranger to peace.

Unsettled by the surge of energy through her body that her mind won’t allow her to act on, the cat slowly paces back and forth. As she moves, her gaze never leaves the other big cat, not even to glance at the fresh kill that her stomach aches for.

She tells herself she will hold her ground, win the standoff for this space and her freedom, if not for the meal. Ghost’s body remains strong and her mind grasps for focus. But in the depths of her chest, in a space that has seemingly grown smaller as the months have gone by, a part of her acknowledges her fear.

The Eidolon's intelligent eyes take in everything. The agitation and uncertainty radiating from the feral cat's body language as she paces and prowls. It recognizes the signs. The kill clearly belongs to it, yet this one remains. It keeps its distance, but with an unwavering gaze at the kill between them. Extricating itself from the beast, Eidolon tugs its heart from its chest, then its lungs. Last, it pins the stag beneath its large frame, rending and tearing at the skull until it, too, is torn free.

One at a time, each item is laid out in front of the unfamiliar feline. The heart, lungs, and brain each visible. The most potent and succulent cuts of meat any animal might produce. Slowly, it prowls back from its offerings and begins tearing into the fallen stags mid-section as it settles in to eat. Again, it shares images of the tranquil environment it knows so well. One tangible and full of fresh scents and free of dangers.

Crouching low to the ground, Ghost advances forward and grasps the heart between her teeth. With her eyes still locked on the other cat, she takes several steps back and eases herself down. She holds the still-warm organ beneath one paw and tears off a piece of it. As the blood rolls over her tongue, her mind opens further to the images offered. Unconsciously, she begins to relax. She takes another bite and then finishes the heart in a third. If she were physically capable of it, she would purr.

Tail swishing as a preternatural reverberation ripples across the Eidolon's vocal chords, it continues to dine on the elk in front of it, leaving it for the ghostly figure in front of him to make her way through the remainder of the meal it set before her. Patience. Silence. Acceptance... Understanding. These were the next offerings to be made as it attempts to coax the unknown creature to seek respite and care.

Less skittish each time, Ghost approaches, takes, and eats each gift that has been offered. Instinct should have drive her to take more, but her stomach is full and that usual urge silenced. Instinct should see her fight for this turf or yield it to the other cat, but she feels no need to do either. Instinct… it has been so long since she has acted on anything but.

She stays as she is and waits, content with the moment and quieted by this strange being that wavers before her eyes like the reflection of the night sky on a pond’s surface.

Once sated with its meal, the Eidolon backs away from the kill, licking its lips and rumbling its satisfaction before shifting its shimmering form slowly around its paws and moving toward Ghost with languid steps. Unhurried. Unthreatening.

Its forward momentum ceases if at any time she objects in any discernible manner. There, it will yawn and stretch itself out to rest. To wait. To show that it has no intention to harm or dismay the other feline figure before it.

The ethereal cat’s movements do draw objections at first- flattened ears, the baring of teeth, raised hackles. But with her belly full and her body calling for rest once more, it is becoming harder with each passing minute for Ghost to expend energy on this apparent non-threat.

A tug at the back of her throat signals and unwanted yawn and she clenches her jaws against it. Her eyes narrow and her whiskers twitch with her effort, all to no good end. The yawn comes anyway and her maw opens wide as if in a silent answer to sleep’s call.

Satisfied that its current message has been conveyed, the astral guardian simply sprawls out with it's paws aimed toward Ghost and its head aimed to her left as it, too, yawns, and closes its eyes. The low rumble of contentment is otherworldly in its celestial notes and chords, but soothing, too, as it appears to drift off to sleep nearby.

Paws kneading the dirt, Ghost watches the strange cat sleep. As she studies it, her increasingly groggy mind is unaware of her own drifting, and she yields to unconsciousness without even feeling it coming.

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tigrapurrs · 5 years

Text

Lucky

Here’s a little Tigra fic for #TigraBurningBright Wednesdays!

Sometimes I run.

At night, after everyone else is asleep. I can hear them through the walls, my hearing both blessing and curse.

Steve, his heartbeat slow and steady, breathing even, even his sleep the ‘pinnacle of human perfection.’ I imagine him, beautifully sculpted body stretched out, chest rising and falling with clockwork regularity.

Bobbi and Clint, her head nestled in the crook of his arm, bodies naked and close for the shared warmth, his fingertips resting in her hair mid stroke, where they were when he dropped off to slumber, her hand draped possessively over his stomach, their legs twined together. Peaceful together during sleep in a way they never are while awake.

When he’s there, staying at the compound, Tony in the comfy old easy chair in his workshop, a glass of melting ice, drained of whiskey, in his hand or on the small table next to him. He’s snoring, eyes darting under his eyelids in fitful sleep. He never rests easily, his demons too noisy for that.

I can hear every shift, every breath, every whisper. I love them. They’re my friends. They’re heroes. They’re family.

I just wish I was one of them.

I try not to think about it as I exit an upper floor window, letting the near freezing air wash over me. My short, dense, silky fur insulates me, and my senses come truly alive as the scents of the forested hills around the compound hit me. Deep within me, pacing her cage, the Huntress lifts her head, ears perking forward, and she stills, knowing what’s coming.

Balance is the key to my dual existence. For them, for my family, I have to play the role of Tigra: flirty, funny, sexy, occasionally silly Tigra. Sometimes my temper flares and they’re reminded I’m not just a wise cracking sex kitten, but for the most part, they know who I am. They even think they know what I am.

In a blink I’m off, leaping the length of a football field and landing on the lower branches of an old oak tree with no more sound than a swooping owl, and then I’m on the ground, springing through the old forest, body leaning into the sheer physicality of running, of hunting, and I know, even though I can’t see them myself, a feral glint is in my eyes as I let the Huntress out of her cage, let her do what she does best, what she desires most. For the first few minutes I’m a sleek shadow darting gracefully through the brush, taking to the trees, leaping and running and just exulting in being Tigra. The forest is a dark, lush miasma of scents and sounds, as alive and awake to me as a shopping mall on Black Friday would be to Jan.

The compound is in the distance and I’ve covered several miles before I come to a stop at the crest of a hill. It’s a clear night, and cold, my breath steaming in the silver moonlight. I stand, running a hand idly through my thick, red hair. I can scent deer on the wind, and the Huntress roars in approval. Even I grin a little, flashing fangs behind my full lips. It’s a small herd, six I think, and the trail is relatively fresh, no more than an hour old. In an instant I’m off, following their movement and adjusting my angle of approach to be downwind of them. Their senses of smell aren’t as good as mine, but no sense in giving them unnecessary warning. In point of fact, I’m not even consciously thinking of it, the Huntress does this naturally, instinctively.

The air is just cold enough to sting my lungs, and the scent of my prey is like a siren song, calling to the Huntress. I spy the small herd as I land in the upper branches of a birch tree, dropping so silently they’re clueless to my presence

I was right, there are 6 of them. A young buck and an older buck, a doe, three yearlings—though I get the sense, given the air of a standoff, the older buck may not be welcome.

He’s a scarred old gent and I know at a glance he’s seen many winters like this. Smart, lucky, canny, but starting to slow, to get desperate. The strapping young buck he’s facing is far too powerful for him, but my sense is he’s probably not been able to breed in a long time. I respect him, admire him, but the Huntress licks her chops and I know. He’s my prey tonight.

I’m 60 paces out and I know I could make it in a single spring, make the kill instantly with none of them ever recognizing my presence before the deed is done, but I’m not just seeking meat tonight. The Huntress needs to stretch, she needs blood, but most of all, she needs to chase.

I roar.

It’s not my loudest, it’s actually pretty tame, but it’s a sound that stretches back to the dawn of time. It echoes across the hills, and every prey animal for miles is reminded what it was like to be in the darkness when the great cats of old prowled. The effect is like a bomb going off, and the little herd scatters in every direction, the young following the doe, the two bucks springing away from each other, their ardor cooled by the threat of death.

I leave the younger buck. He’s strong and healthy, he’ll breed this winter, and for several more. I’m here for blood, but unlike a human trophy hunter, not bragging rights. I’m fast enough I could run down and kill the entire herd. No, I follow the old buck, and the Huntress approves. The weak, the sick, it’s our duty to cull them, to keep the herds strong. He’s still a powerful warrior, and my ears catch the cacophony of his crashing through the brush, his heavy tread thudding down, and I follow, little more than a shadow to him. He knows he’s being chased, but I’m too quiet, too high up.

The Huntress is enjoying this, and I love it as well, the focus, the goal, the simplicity of everything. I don’t need to think about Greer and her mess of a life, or wonder if I’m good enough to be an Avenger. This is survival. Kill or be killed. The Law of the Jungle. And I am TIGRA, the top of the food chain.

He’s slowing, his sides heaving, and his breath steaming in great gusts. The end is coming, and he knows it. He stunk of fear at first, but that’s bled away. He accepts it, and like any warrior, he turns to fight, lowering his head, and brandishing his magnificent antlers—an array of sharp points pointed my direction. I drop in front of him, my heart pounding more from exhilaration than exhaustion, into a crouch. My tail is lashing in excitement. The snow is crunchy and cold on the pads of my feet, and the only sound is his panting.

Maybe a signal passes between us, I’m not sure, but he charges. We both know it’s his last. I lightly spring over his lowered head, claws digging into his hide for purchase, and then, like my namesake, I bite down, fangs penetrating and as soon as I crunch into his vertebrae, I yank my head. With a clean snap, it breaks, and suddenly he’s stumbling down, dead before he hits the ground.

Silence falls around us.

The Huntress is satisfied.

I throw my head back and ROAR! A roar of victory, a roar as old as time itself, and all around me I can hear the prey animals breathing a sigh of relief—they know I’ve killed and I won’t be killing any more tonight.

I don’t know what my fellow Avengers would think. Bobbi’s never seen this side of me. Would it offend Steve’s sensibilities? I can’t answer that and as I bend down to my kill, tearing it open, the Huntress hungry for meat, for the choicest parts of the kill, I crouch in the moonlight, in the bloody snow, stripping flesh from the deer and filling my belly.

The Huntress is satiated. I’M satiated, because as much as I try to keep that side of myself separate, when I’m being honest with myself, She is a part of me. A part I have to learn to accept.

I sigh and spring to a low hanging branch to get out of the snow. Lazily, I lick the blood off my fur, cleaning myself. It’s sticky but it tastes good, and inside, the Huntress is ready for a nap.

The trip back is slower. I have time to think, and I don’t necessarily like everything in my head.

I slip inside the mansion and can tell people are awake. I’m not surprised when I find Cap in the kitchen. He’s in his PT outfit: black windbreaker type pants, a long sleeved grey shirt with ARMY printed across the chest (his chest fills that out deliciously) and a reflective belt.

“Hey Greer,” he says, flashing dimples.

“Hiya Cap!” I answer back, giving him what he expects, my Tigra voice.

“Just now getting in? Must’ve been a wild night,” he says, conversationally. I flash a grin at him.

“Yeah, you know me, party girl.”

He laughs, and I imagine running my tongue over his abs.

The Huntress enjoys more than just blood.

Steve goes to run and I hear other members of the Avengers stirring. Bobbi is awake, so I steal silently into the quarters she shares with Clint, who is still snoring.

She jumps when I crawl under the blanket with her, and she hisses, “Dammit, Tee, you’re freezing.”

“No, I’m warm, but my fur is cold from being outside.” She grumbles, but pulls me close anyway.

“You’re lucky you’re so soft and that you warm up quickly.”

I bury my face into the nape of her neck and start purring.

I don’t think she catches it when I answer.

“I AM lucky.”

#Tigra #Wednesday #Avengers #Mockingbird #Hawkeye #Captain America #Iron Man #Hunting

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selenelavellan · 6 years

Note

Drabble idea(s): A day in the life of Fear, Reincarnation AU Abom!Selene meets Haleir again several lifetimes later, Window AU Selene pops by for a visit, Falon'Din shows up while she's comfortably wrapped around Dirthamen in the middle of watching a movie

Three out of Four’s pretty good I think!

Dirthamen and Falon’din are @feynites.

Drabbles under the cut, because there are three of them.

Reincarnation AU, Window AU, Bagel AU

Reincarnation AU Abom!Selene meetsHaleir again several lifetimes later,

She is in a coffee shop when she seeshim.

He is ahead of her in line, and whenshe steps forward to make her order he lets out a long whistle andinforms the barista that whatever she orders is his treat.

The thought of ordering whatever mightbe served hottest for the express intention of throwing it directlyin his face is tempting, Des echoing a similar sentiment back withstartling clarity.

She orders her macchiato instead, andgives a false name for the order.

Haleir leans comfortably against thecounter while they wait for their drinks to be made, and attempts tostrike up a conversation. Selene nods along in appropriate places andavoids making eye contact, while she and Des mentally shuffle throughhis mind.

Nothing she wouldn't have expected fromhim; sex, power, money, prestige. He thinks she's well dressed (sheis) well off (she is) and lonely (not nearly enough to make thatmistake twice).

“Come on sweetheart,” he croons.“Give me a smile. Surely a coffee's worth that much, right?”

Please set him on fire, Desoffers.

Selene turns, finally facing Haleirdirectly and lets out a breath.

Her eyes flash as she pops up a subtlebut powerful privacy barrier around them, her mouth stretching into atoo-large smile, the edges pressed against the base of her ears asher teeth elongate into sharp points. She lets the nail on her indexfinger harden to nearly steel, and presses it against his chest wherehis heart should be. “Is this the smile you were looking for,darling?”

The barrier drops and her featuresreturn to normal, leaving the rest of the coffee shop to wonder atthe screams of the elven man as he tears back out through the frontdoors, coffee and desires long forgotten.

Selene takes her finished macchiatofrom the barista with a pleasant smile, and leaves a large bill inthe tip jar.

Window AU Selene pops by for a visit,

It is another warm afternoon whenDirthamen hears his living room window slide open.

“Do you have an aversion to doors?”He calls out, moving to watch her twist and contort herself to fitthrough the small opening.

“More to hallways, than doors,” Sheadmits as her torso flips upside down, her head landing carefully onhis floor before her second foot does. “Too many unknowns. There'snowhere to hide with a window, you can see what's on the other sidealready.”

Dirthamen nods; her logic is notincorrect, though what she might have to fear in their hallway is amystery to him.

“Anyways,” she continues, handinghim a clear, sealed bag of popcorn seeds as she pulls a small panwith a lid in behind her. “There's a movie that hit Netflix todayI've been dying to see. It's a new sci-fi picture that's supposed tobe pretty good, I thought you might want to watch it with me.”

“Is this because I am the only one ofus that has a Netflix account?”

“Partially,” She admits. “Butmostly I like your company. Besides, I brought popcorn! Andseasonings. It'll be great; like I'm cooking for you but without therisk of offending your delicate Tevinter tastebuds.”

“I maintain that raw meat is nota meal.”

“That is how the dish was meant to be served!”Selene asserts, throwing her hands in the air as she lets herselfinto his kitchen. “I never thought you'd be offended by somethingthat bleeds.”

“I did not realize blood magic wassuch an integral part of Orlesian cooking.” Dirthamen shoots backwith a smile.

Selene makes a fake offended gasp asshe spins to face him. “Excuse me. Blood magic will alwaysbe secondary to butter magic in Orlesian cooking, thank you very much! Here I was,thinking you were classy enough to know that....Next thing I know,you'll be suggesting I put that awful fake cheddar on the popcorn.”

“Was that not already your plan?”

It is difficult to tell if the noiseshe makes this time is pretend, or if she is truly offended at thepossibility of it.

“Grab your fancy butter and throwaway the cheese dust pretty boy,” She instructs in a playful tone.“I'm about to rock your world.”

Falon'Din shows up while she'scomfortably wrapped around Dirthamen in the middle of watching amovie

The door slams open, bangingagainst the stopper loudly as an all-too familiar voice rings throughDirthamens living room.

He lets out a soft sigh and moves toget up from his bed, but Selene tightens her hold on him instead.

“My brother is-”

“I hear him,” She hums. “Let himyell at an empty room for a little while instead of at you.”

“He will become more upset when herealizes I am ignoring him.”

“That's not your problem,” sheassures him, turning the volume up on the tablet they're currentlywatching their movie on.

It takes nearly five minutes forFalon'din to stop screaming outside, and Dirthamen stares nervouslyat his bedroom door.

“Maybe he tired himself out and lefton his own?” Selene offers.

The bedroom door opens and she lets outa sigh; just once, she wish Falon'din would take a hint.

“What the fuck are you twodoing?” he screams, stomping into their bedroom like a petulantchild. “Are you deaf? Didn't you hear me calling for you, Dirthamen?Or did this fucking harpy-”

“That's enough,” Selene interrupts,casting the spell Morrigan had taught her with a well-practiced ease.Falon'din's screams turn into a yowl as he shrinks, clothing fallingaway as he falls to the floor. Ears pricked up and fur matted as hescrambles haphazardly onto the bed.

“He's really much easier to handlethis way,” Selene notes as Falon'din attempts to tear at her leg,only to repeatedly catch his claws in the thick comforter betweenthem. He lets out a long series of meows, punctuated by theoccasional hiss as his ears press back flat against his head.

“We're going to finish watching ourmovie now Din'din,” She tells him. “You can sit here, quietly andcalmly, and watch with us, or I can throw you out in the alley and youcan see how you fend with the ferals. It's your choice.”

He lets out a long hiss, and swipes atSelene again before turning to look up at Dirthamen with anexpression she could only describe as 'pleading and pitiful'.

“I am afraid Selene is the only onewho can undo the spell brother,” Dirthamen informs him, despite itbeing a blatant lie because she knows she's told him how tofix it in case of emergency. “You will have to follow her rules ifyou wish to return to your normal form.”

A low, rumbling growl emanates from thedirty blonde cat, before it leaps up onto the pillows behind them,kneading angrily at the top of Selenes pillow as he reluctantlysettles into place.

Selene gives him a soft scritch on topof his head as a form of positive reinforcement before hitting playon the tablet again.

“Try not to eat my hair this time,”She hums, feeling more than a little smug.

She can still throw him out in thealley if she needs some alone time with Dirthamen, afterall.

#answered #drabbles #reincarnation au #window au #bagel au #dirthalene #thanks for the ask <3 #theladypirate

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higuchimon · 4 years

Text

[fanfic] Rewards of Losing: Chapter 18

Vector strolled alongside of Yuuri, taking in the scenery. A few Fusion soldiers eyed him cautiously, probably disturbed by his lack of uniform, but the fact he carried one of their duel disks and Yuuri seemed to have him “in custody” meant they didn’t bother him directly.

Too bad. I could use the exercise. It might lessen his chances of succeeding at what he was doing but it would be fun, and fun wasn’t to be sneezed at, especially not these days. He would take it where he could find it.

“You wouldn’t be taking me the long way around, would you?” He asked. He suspected under other circumstances, he and Yuuri could have gotten along splendidly. And probably terrified a lot of people. Too bad things turned out the way that they had.

Yuuri snorted. “No. The Professor is just deep inside the building. He likes being protected.”

Well, that was interesting. Vector stored the information away to deal with later. He strolled onward, humming a bit under his breath. Yuuri asked something that he wasn’t quite expecting as they walked.

“Why do you people put up with those Cats? They’re repulsive. Cats shouldn’t be that large – or able to talk - let alone anything else.”

Vector snorted. “I don’t put up with them. I want nothing to do with one of them. They’re smelly and you have to get them registered and they walk in and out of your place all night long.” He shook his head. “Not worth the effort.”

Yuuri’s lips twitched at that. “You’re probably the first XYZ person I’ve met who has some intelligence, then. Most of them seem to fawn over the creatures. Quite annoying if you ask me.”

A few more minutes and they stood outside of a door guarded by two duelists, who eyed Vector untrustfully and respectfully saluted Yuuri. “Can we do something for you, Yuuri-sama?” One of them asked.

“I believe I sent a message that I was on the way with this XYZ defector to come and see the Professor,” Yuuri said, waving his fingers. “Step out of the way.”

The guards leaped aside at once, opening the door. Yuuri strolled inside without a care and Vector followed, adjusting his jacket and watching everything he could to commit it to memory. The room itself was large, with a few tables set out of the main way, and some sort of odd machine in the back. Vector had no idea of what that was. But he followed Yuuri all the way up to where the man on the throne sat, watching their progress. “Professor,” Yuuri said, tilting his head forward. “This is Vector. He offers to give us the location of the Heartland survivors, if we find him a Firestarter to bond to.” The Professor – a wrinkly old man that didn’t impress Vector at all – turned a stern gaze onto him. Vector sketched a salute and grinned. “A strong Firestarter, mind you. Someone worth the effort.” His eyes gleamed with desire. “Someone I can have a lot of fun with.” Yuuri chuckled at that. One of the Professor’s eyebrows quirked. Vector suspected he wasn’t as awed – or terrified – by Yuuri as most people seemed around here. “And your reason for this is? I find it unlikely that you would do this for such a small price.” “It’s not small to me,” Vector pointed out. “But if you want to give me more – a powerful Firestarter and a luxurious place to live here. For that matter, let me have some fun carding people. I’ve done it since I got this.” He raised the duel disk. “Let me keep on doing it.” The Professor made a faint noise that Vector chose to interpret as agreeing. His eyes rested on the duel disk. “Explain to me how you got that. My soldiers are trained to self-destruct their duel disks in the unlikely even they’re defeated.” “Oh, I know.” Vector waved one hand carelessly. “That's what I didn’t bother to defeat the one I took this one off of.” Again the Professor’s eyebrow twitched upward. Vector slipped his favorite knife from the hidden sheath and licked it slowly, savoring the taste of it. “I just killed them. It’s hard to self-destruct when you’re dead.” Yuuri’s eyes brightened in approval. “I don’t suppose you bothered to get their name? I want to talk to whoever their trainer was.” “Didn’t bother.” Vector shrugged, sliding his knife back. “Does it matter that much?” “Not really. But it would have bee amusing.” Yuuri turned back to the Professor. “I think that he could be useful.” “Then which Firestarter would you suggest for him?” The Professor wanted to know. Yuuri folded his arms over his chest and considered the options. “Most of the ones I can think of are either too weak or someone’s already bonded to them,” he mused. He gave Vector a measuring look. “Though there is one exception.” The Professor twitched his fingers; apparently that was enough of an incentive for Yuuri to keep on going. “Marufuji. He’s coming along reasonably well, though I might need a little help to get his memories properly restructured.”

“And who would you bond to in that situation?”

Yuuri’s grin turned feral and wicked. Vector approved. “I’ve got my eye on a Firestarter from XYZ. Brother to the girl you want taken. It will keep him out of the way so he won’t try to get her back.”

That got a small nod from the Professor. “And why not allow this XYZ Firestarter for our new – comrade?” He regarded Vector for a few seconds.

“Because I want to try him out for myself. We can make Marufuji what Vector would like. And I still haven’t decided that I don’t want him anyway.” Yuuri shrugged. “There’s time to make the decision.”

Vector nodded his own agreement. “I don’t know what Firestarter from XYZ you’re talking about but I don’t care. Just meet my demands and I’ll keep my part of the bargain.”

Both of them nodded, and Yuuri looked ready to say something else. He broke off with a sudden wince, one hand to his forehead, and in the same moment, Vector’s breath hissed between his teeth. He suspected, once he had a moment to consider, that he wasn’t as strongly affected because he wasn’t from this world. The Professor stood up.

“What is it?” He looked ready to summon troops with a single word if the occasion called for it. But Yuuri shook his head, turning around.

“There are intruders in my garden. Two of them -” His eyes narrowed as he listened to the voices in his heart. “They’re after Marufuji.”

Akaba Leo drew himself up. “From XYZ?” He raised one hand, starting to point at Vector, who snarled. He could hear the garden’s call, though not as loudly as Yuuri did.

“I have nothing to do with this.” It would be ridiculous to even consider. But the Professor didn’t back down, not until Yuuri spat out the next words.

“Only one – the Healer Cat. The other – from here.” His fingers curled into claws and Vector thought he saw Yuuri’s eyes flash slitted for a heartbeat. Strange indeed. “It’s Marufuji – Marufuji Shou.”

Well. This was getting more and more interesting. The Professor nodded then and snapped his fingers. His two guards stepped up at once.

“Send a contingent of Obelisk Force Firestarters to Yuuri’s Garden. Have them restrain the Healer Cat and Marufuji Shou. Ensure Marufuji Ryou’s safety.”

Yuuri snorted. “They won’t be able to. My Garden won’t let them in. It only let those two in because they could find the routes inside. But Firestarters can’t. I’ll go.”

Akaba didn’t rescind his order, however. “They can encircle the Garden and make sure that they don’t escape with Marufuji Ryou, until you get there.”

If Yuuri cared about that, he said nothing. He simply turned and stalked his way out. Vector watched for a few seconds, shrugged, and followed afterward, curious now to see what would happen next. What he saw as they exited the building – taking a short cut that he’d never dreamed existed given the way they’d come in – impressed him. Every tree, flower, bush, and blade of grass wove and danced in the wind of Yuuri’s rage. Some flowers burst into bloom and then fell into dust as he walked by. Vector didn’t think he’d ever seen a Healer that angry before. Most of them never reached that point since their Firestarters kept them balanced and steady. Yuuri needed a Firestarter more than anyone he’d ever seen.

Vector also wondered just which Cat it was that had snuck in and why. One way or the other, this was getting a lot more interesting than he’d originally thought.

Mizael sheltered himself underneath an overhang of stone. He’d grown a good concealing breadth of thorns to ensure that no one else would see him, but he could peer between them and see what was going on. He’d waited here for close to an hour and so far they hadn’t found any Fusion soldiers.

I know they’re here. What are they doing? Are they hiding? That didn’t make sense. Given the whole situation, there wasn’t any reason for them to hide. But he couldn’t see any.

He leaned back against the stone, closed his eyes, and let his mind wander, touching onto every tree and bit of lie that he could find, murmuring his questions. He wanted to know where the invaders were, what they were doing, and how to get them closer to him.

Eventually – he couldn’t have said when – he could feel an answer. As always, no words, but a sense that here there were Fusion soldiers – ones who couldn’t get away.

Mizael blinked at that. Why couldn’t they get away? He formed the question in the blink of an eye, and the answer floated back.

Because the wild foliage of XYZ wouldn’t let it. Because another Healer had asked them to hold onto these.

Who? Mizael wanted to know. Who asked you?

The Cat. He went away with another one of them, a nicer one.

Mizael shifted and frowned. That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. A Cat who “went away” with someone of Fusion? Then he sat up. Kei? Was it Kei?

Cat. The whisper came. That was all he was likely to get. Finding the plant-life that could tell the difference between individual Cats and Healers that weren’t actually Dark wasn’t easy. Especially when he didn’t know the trees and bushes he asked.

Well, that gave him an answer regardless. He wriggled out from behind the thorns and headed over to where he knew Chris attempted to find Fusion soldiers. As soon as he walked up, the other Healer opened his eyes and looked at him.

“I know where to go,” Mizael said, gesturing down what had once been a pleasantly busy street. “I think Kei’s been dong some work.” He shrugged. “I should have thought about that before.” The Cat had said he was going to find a way to get to Ryou. How else could he do it except by stealing a Duel Disk, or a duelist?

Chris came to his feet in one graceful movement, Durbe joining him. He’d kept a watch on the area, ready to capture or incinerate anyone who came too close to his Healer. Mizael looked forward to one day having a partner like that – no, not Ryou of course.

“We’ll have to thank him,” Chris said, his lips quirked into a smile. “Do you think he’d accept fish?”

“I think what he wants is Marufuji back,” Mizael replied. He glanced away; if he were being truly honest with himself, he wanted the same thing. He wanted that pleasant night they’d had together to be real – to know that he wasn’t being lied to or used. To know that Ryou defended him because he cared, not for – whatever reasons he’d done it. Mizael didn’t know and hesitated on finding out.

He put it aside. If he ever saw Ryou again he would ask then what all of that had been about. He wasn’t sure if he should expect that or not.

I should go and help Kei. The idea formed simply and calmly. Kei was a powerful Healer but he was in Fusion, where he didn’t know anyone or anything. He would need all the backup that he could get.

But that would have to happen later. For now, they needed to find those Fusion soldiers Kei so politely left behind and capture those duel disks.

In point of fact, that didn’t take very long. Half an hour, more or less, to find where the captured Fusion soldiers were being held, securely wrapped in vines and branches. There were two of them, held back to back, muttering to each other. As soon as Durbe, Chris, and Mizael entered the clearing, one of them looked up.

“Get us out of this!” He snapped. “You could at least do us the c0urtesy of carding us instead of leaving us like this!”

Mizael exchanged a glance with Chris, who looked far too amused for words. “Now, why do you think we’d do something like carding you?” Though truth to tell, Mizael guessed a few people would happily do that in revenge for all those who’d already been lost.

The other soldier snorted. “Because we’re prisoners and that’s what happens to prisoners! What else would you think? So either let us go and let us card you, or card us.”

Durbe tilted his head, examining them carefully. “We know that you self-destruct your duel disks when you’re captured. How could we trust that you wouldn’t do that if we attempted to ‘card’ you? Or that it can’t be set up to work on us regardless?”

The first one rolled his eyes. “Because we can’t get to the self-destruct button the way we’re tied up. That monster Cat did this to us and brainwashed one of our good soldiers to take him to Fusion.”

Well, that was interesting indeed. Mizael strolled closer and peered down at them.. “Kei’s not a monster. At least not the usual kind. And I doubt he did any brainwashing.”

“You’re wrong,” the same one declared. “He made it look easy! He didn’t even duel her! He just asked to go to Fusion and she took him!”

Quick glances shot among the three XYZ defenders. Mizael held back a grin, but not by much. “So, he asked politely and she agreed. The only thing I find wrong about that is that one of you listened to someone asking politely.” His smile widened ever so faintly and the two Fusion soldiers stared at him, aware in that moment of why he was the supreme dragon user of XYZ. “Well, we’re not really going to ask politely. But I’m not Kei so I don’t have to.”

He leaned down, spied their duel disks, and unfastened them. It wasn’t that easy, especially since the trees and vines held them in a fashion so the Fusion duelists couldn’t get to them. But he managed, handing one to Chris and the other to Durbe.

“Good,” Durbe said, staring down at the one he held. “Now we can start doing to them what they’ve been doing to us.”

Akane hurried through the corridors of Academia, hoping to find Tenjoin Asuka before anyone else found her. She didn’t think anyone knew that she’d brought the Healer Cat there, but Fusion had a way of knowing what one did almost before one actually did. Even if she managed to get to Asuka in time, what about what happened afterward? She couldn’t be sure.

She couldn’t even be sure that Asuka would listen to her. But she’d always admired the other duelist’s strength of will and heart. After what she’d seen in the XYZ dimension, she couldn’t let that happen to such a pure and powerful Firestarter as Tenjoin Asuka.

“Akane?”

Akane pitched to a halt at the utterance of her name, her breath catching in her throat. She looked up to see Asuka standing there, a curious tilt to her head.

“Akane, are you all right? I thought you were in XYZ.”

Here it was. Akane swallowed and stepped closer, glancing here and there to ensure that no one else stood close enough to hear her. “I was. I saw what we’ve been doing there.”

Asuka nodded, a gleam of light in her eyes. “I envy you. I want the chance to go there and -”

Akane shook her head at once. “No! No, you don’t!” She clasped her hands together and stared at the other, wishing as she never had before that she were a Healer and could offer the strength and balance that Asuka needed. All she could offer was herself, and Asuka hadn’t ever indicated that she’d wanted that.

But she kept going regardless. “What we’re doing there is wrong. We’re carding people – ones who don't fight back. Who are innocents.” Akane fought to keep the tears out of her eyes and didn’t think she succeeded very well. “This isn’t a war. This is a slaughter. It’s wrong. It’s unfair. They can’t fight back. They’re trying so hard, but they just can’t, and I can’t be part of that anymore.” She swallowed, wringing her hands. “I’m – I’m going to leave,” she whispered, pitching her voice so low that Asuka had to clean in closer to hear her. “And I want you to come with me. Please. You shouldn’t be part of this.”

Asuka’s eyes were round and shocked with every word Akane said. When the Osiris Red girl stopped, Asuka quietly reached out to her, resting one hand in her shoulder.

“If that’s what you want, then let’s go.”

Akane wasn’t certain what she’d heard at first. Asuka believed her? Asuka would leave with her? She wasn’t sure where they were going to go but they wouldn’t be a part of this anymore.

Then she slowly began to smile. A heartbeat of hesitation held her back. “All right. But first – would you like to meet a Healer Cat?”

To Be Continued

Notes: Remember, Akane got carded in canon. Will I do that to her? Will I send Asuka off with Yuuya’s dad? Not telling! But you’ll find out soon.

#fanfic #higuchimon writes #ygobb2020 #ygo gx #ygo zexal #ygo arc-v #marufuji ryou #Mizael #yuuri (Arc-V)#chapters: rewards of losing #au: healer firestarter

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