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tocomplainfriend · 4 months

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VIV is constantly criticized by her own fault.

TW: Mention of: SA, Rape, Transphobia, fat phobia, Antiblackness.

(Hey, i'mma probably do a post eventually about episode 4. Btw, awfully shit, worse than I thought it could be... BIG TW OF R-PE AND SA IF YOU'RE GOING TO SEE IT. AND TW of the minimization of those topics too.)

(SORRY FOR BAD ENGLISH IN THIS POST TOO)

BUT I NEED TO CALL ATTENTION TO THIS! One of the reasons I criticize a lot of Viv specifically is because of how much she puts herself out there. She sees something she posts on Twitter about it a shit ton (even on "threads" lol). AND because of how lacking of improvement she has being. (I personally know people I have considered terrible when we were teens, but I have seen legit improvement from them in recent years. They seem like people who struggle, but got to grow up and made up for any problems (or pain caused to me or others). People have the ability to change and become better. Something that matters at pointing out issues or discussing-is the idea of creating change on others. It is better to get someone to change for the better than to cast them into the forever jail of nothingness (unless, IDK, they Sexually Assaulted someone, for example). Specially when they are young people. Doesn't mean YOU have to stick with other people that hurt you, no. Doesn't mean people get to do what ever and get away with it.

BUT All of this problem I have seen from Viv are from age 19-30. (you can change at anytime btw) And see constantly repeats herself and her actions. Seems to have never accepted criticism (said by herself too), and never able to see her own faults. The fact that is a continuous behavior is a problem, how she always responds is awful. My post of "Viv has being transphobic for 10 years", was to signal that. If she really had changed over those 10 years to a genuine thing- I could've taken that! But no, the shitty double standard against trans men... the weird treatment. THE MANY STORIES OF EMPLOYEES GETTING MISGENDERED HEAVILY, TOO.

(I know people who were transphobic [When they were teens mainly], that Genuinely improved and changed their beliefs. Now they treat trans people with respect and care! And still learning about gender-fluid people, too!)

It just seems to be further and further away from getting better! The fact that she only decides to take in account voices from SA victims that agree with her- it's painful as a victim, my self!

And yes, people who sent gore or dumbass shit to Viv (or the team) don't help. And go get help why you're looking and sending Gore to anyone. (Also, stuff like this does lead to people not listening to others people genuine callouts). The fact that I criticize something doesn't mean I agree with the people that go and do shit like the thing I just mention above.

AND ALSO A IMPORTANT THING HERE!

This drawing was created by DollCreep. BUT ALSO FUCKING REMEMBER this was done in response to the shit that Viv drew of him.

If you didn't know Viv drew a transphobic caricature of DollCreep using the name Jojo (his old nickname). This put together with a shitty anti-sjw meme video. DollCreep is a transman, Viv drew a character based on him. A furry wolf girl, If you can see in the image the main thing listed below the character name is the fucking "Sex=♀️". SO ON PURPOSE, CHRIST. Like... AND YES-is shitty from both to have drawn this (even if it was in respond) mainly immature in DC part. But that, or any toxicity coming from DC, doesn't delete the transphobia here. (imagine drawing a racist caricature of a poc person, because they are shitty to you). THE POST LINKED ABOVE SHOWS THE SITUATION, and in the end of the day. Viv says that DC is an abusive shitty person to her, but never realizing her own faults or anything she could'be possibly done wrong! (and again, any wrong done by DC in general can not be deleted by the fact of having being treated badly. If he did shitty stuff himself, that doesn't delete the wrong done in general to him or to others by viv)

Here about transphobia:

(this is like 8yrs old too)

Again, she never acknowledges anything that she might have done wrong. "She is a thoughtful person, that wants tor write queer and disabled characters! She wants to tell empowering stories of..." It doesn't even feel close to that when people bring up actual problems in her writing that are stereotyping or bad, and she just yells and cries. It all feels like empty sticks she is only interested in in the surface level, she doesn't want to actually deal with.

When she says "This characters is black guys ♡♡♡" and then the fucking 7th, a grayish character with zero black features. She can not actually try and draw a black person with a different hair texture, she'll faith is hair isn't straight and spiky (has done this so much too). She is all for positivity and diversity (can not draw more than 1 character that isn't a fucking stick with the same stupid face).

She can not write relationships in general. She cannot do gay couples, then don't lean on the stupid old uke uwu defenceless x big rough seme protector stuff. Again, all the interactions with Husk and Angel are sexual harassment. They are already a revealed future couple (and episode 4 is terrible for them, specially with that song). Stolitz is toxic, and predatory. That is not acknowledged, and all Stolas's predatory behavior and power dynamics are put in the background, cause- "look how sad Stolas is :(! HIS DAD IS SOOO MEAN, HIS WIFE IS A BITCH". All her gay characters are in pure surface: over-sexual twinks that are assholes, which also fit into the top/bottom as personality boxes.

Any other point includes sexual harassment as a joke. BUT KNOW SHE WANTS TO BE LIKE "GUYS SA STORIES MATTER, LOOK AT WHAT I WROTE" as if she didn't lean back into the problem of the diminishing of SA and r- (in general and done to men) with her jokes in HB. With all the sexual harassment that Angel Dust puts on Husk and others. (AND YES THERE IS NO WARNING IN EPISODE 4, FOR ITS HEAVY TOPICS! I do believe all series/movies with this need it. SPECIALLY IF IT'S SO GRAPHIC! "Sexual content" is not the same as a warning for SA or R-pe. An adult can see a movie with sex or sexual nutidy- when they see that- but it's different to get straight assault on screen. Victims can watch movies/series with sex in them all good, you cannot just group consensual sex in the same assault or R-pe...)

The thing where Mammon (the only fat character that isn’t from the fucking background.) is like FIZZ YOU NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT. AS IF SHE COULD EVEN DRAW ANY DIFFERENT BODY SHAPE WITHOUT DYING. Like there is only Mimzy (hasn't appeared yet, not given any importance. In the female lead show). Mammon the piece of shit (does the same as Blitz, but he is actually fully bad.) His design is done with 80 fucking layers on top. Like all the test of the skinny character's clothes suck up to their body except for Mammon. His body is hidden in layers upon layers of clothing (that's all you got?). All you main guys need to fill "the skinny have nothing men" and "skinny woman with big hips and legs, but no fucking stomach"?

AND YES! VIV DOES DO THE FUCKING, "FAT = FOOD LMAOOO". You know the thing HH fans and hater where like the "Bee needs to fat thing is bad, cause of fat = food (only food) is reductive and shitty"

(Can I refer to how the show Bojack H, make Diane gain weight cause of anti depressants- and it wasn't a joke! And she was happier too?)

(mine, from post right below)

... like is a bundle of issues. And Viv will never accept that she might be /or is wrong. That's why it hits the fan with stuff. -And again I liked many of the little concepts and stuff in HB and the original pilot of Hazbin. Shit- I still like Sir Pentious and Nifty. I do like Mammon as much as he is a pack of problems to call out, I fucking love the piece of shit Australian jester- The artist work hard on it, and I'm happy it's an openly queer! (as limited as it gets, too....). I liked Huni-cast, I loved the original voice cast! -and that happens! I could be writing this about other stuff too, not only Hazbin... if I created this blog earlier- IT WOULD ALL BE ABOUT RWBY, DANGANRONPA, even svtfoe...Ladybug... or Agretsuko's ending too. So yeah, sorry for the long post (as if all my post weren't)

#vivziepop critique #vivziepop critical #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #anti vivziepop #long post #tw rape #tw sa #tw transphobes #tw transfobia #tw fatphobia #tw antiblackness

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crow-stars · 7 months

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❝LOVELY LITTLE KITTY❞

❦summary; even then, he's still your little kitty ♪the characters in this story; gn!prefect!reader, overblot!grim ✎word count; 1,306 ❀what do the ghosts say?; platonic, angst, kinda set in my own little au (explained in a.n), grim can't really talk ☛the author's notes; okay, so basically this is something that i thought up of before ignihyde chapter came out and i thought that grim would overblot after pomefiore chapter. what happens is that the prefect finds that grim has overblot and manages to convince crowley to let them keep grim somewhere that's on the very edge of the school grounds since they couldn't find a way to undo the overblot ☪look at the catalogue?

It was Friday again.

Friday meant that you would be packing your bag with snacks, clothes, and a blanket, as well as the key to Ramshackle for when you got back.

Friday meant that one of the staff members, usually either Crowley, Trein, or Crewel, would take you out of the main school grounds towards the edge of the forest, where there would be a large hut.

Friday meant that after dropping you off there, the staff member would make sure you would be okay before telling you they would be back the next morning.

Friday meant that you would get to see Grim again.

The forest around the hut always seemed to be cold, even if the day was warmer. You walk towards the hut and open the door, being met quickly by a roar that would be deafening, yet you’ve already gotten used to it. He always did that, a loud roar that was quickly followed by him attempting to lunge towards you. At first, it always made you jump back, afraid that he would attempt to maul you. Yet, you eventually got used to it, even after all those nights spent crying.

You drop your bag by the door, a tired smile on your lips as you face Grim. You wave at him, opening your arms wide to him, as if expecting him to jump into your arms for a hug. Yet the chains that are wrapped around him keep Grim right where he was.

“Hey Grim, I’m back!” You call out to him, a smile spread on your lips, as you look up at Grim. He was big, befitting his title of a monster. Claws sharper than they were before, a mane around his neck that was a shade darker than his usual coat. His only had the faintest of blue, just small pinpricks swallowed in black. Still, he looked the same as ever to you, still that small kitty with bright blue eyes and a furry coat, always hungry for another bite of food.

In response to your greeting, all you get is a low, rumbling growl, Grim’s eyes narrowing. It makes a bitter smile curl on your lips. You begin talking again, walking towards your bag and pulling out the snacks and cans of tuna that you had packed. They were bigger than the ones he normally ate. Sam always specially gave these to you for ‘your beasty friend.’ They weren’t sold on his shelves for anyone else.

“Sorry that there isn’t as much as last time, some of the other cans from the shipment got damaged.” You chuckle to yourself even as Grim continues to tug at the restraints around him, each time huffing and growling lowly.

You finally get all the cans of tuna out, smiling at Grim as you approach him. There’s a line on the floor and Grim attempts to lunge at you again. He never passes the line. Not after last time.

“Look! It’s your favorite!” Holding up one of the cans, you shake it a bit, as if trying to get his attention on the food. It doesn’t work, he’s still growling, snapping, snarling. You sigh, lowering the can of tuna as you stare at him.

Your eyes sting.

It’s always like this, this repeated routine.

The snarls and growls, the lunging at you. He never eats the tuna you bring him, it ends up getting crushed under his paws each time he stomps his foot against the large tiles. You could still see the splatter stain on the floor. You don’t know if Grim managed to lick it up or one of the staff managed to do so. You let the cans of tuna in your arms drop to the floor, making a loud sound. Some of them roll away, you’ll have to get those later, some just clattering and spinning around in place before being brought to a halt.

The small piece of hope in you is what keeps bringing you back, yet the pain of it all dampens your spirits. Each time, each try, each attempt at trying to bring Grim to the way he was before feels hopeless.

You can’t get close, the scar on your stomach is a reminder. You’ve tried all sorts of things by yourself, you don’t want to bring other people into this, the fear of what could happen to Grim more prominent than the thought of asking for help. You thought you could do this on your own, you wanted to be able to do this on your own. Grim was your friend, your only friend, the only family you had in Twisted Wonderland.

Oh, and there are the tears again.

Tears fall down your cheeks in quick drops, covering your skin and making it damp. You crouch down, covering your face as it grows hot. You let yourself cry as you please, crouched on the cold solid ground.

You want Grim back, you need to have Grim back. You have your friends, Ace, Deuce, Malleus, everyone else. You know you have them to fall back on, but school isn’t forever.

Malleus would be a senior next year. Ace and Deuce would have their own issues and own families. Summer was coming close, the school would be empty.

To Twisted Wonderland, you never really existed. You just came to be. You were basically nobody. You were the Prefect, Malleus’ first friend, the one who solved all the overblots. That’s what you were for everyone else.

But with Grim, you could be something for somebody. You were his family, each other’s family.

You don’t know how much time you’ve spent crying, or if Grim was still trying to lunge towards your throat. All you know is that when you look up at Grim again, he’s silent. His large body, instead of on his stomach, larger head placed between his paws. He’s silently licking at, something on the ground, something blue on his tongue.

It’s the tuna that you dropped, being lapped up and eaten by Grim. The sight of it, of him eating the canned food, can and all, makes you want to start crying again. Yet, you laugh.

You laugh even as more tears creep down your cheeks. You watch as Grim reaches a paw for another one of the cans. This one is farther than the previous, past the line. You crawl over to the can that Grim was reaching for and roll it over to him. He’s quick to snatch it up, putting it into his mouth and chewing it up. It makes another laugh that’s combined with a sob leave you as you watch him eat. It’s both a comforting and heartbreaking sight.

“Oh Grim...” You managed to call out to him through your laughter and tears, palms wiping at your eyes even though the tears continue to roll down your cheeks.

Grim finishes up the second can and vies for another, which you roll over to him.

And this was how you spent your night. You watch Grim eat tuna, finish the tuna, and then roll another can over to watch him do it all over again.

Even if you were still crying, even if you felt cold because the night was furthering on, even if you were beginning to get tired, your heart felt so warm, seeing Grim eat and gnash at the tuna.

Before you know it, it’s sunrise.

Sunrise means that you would have to pack your bags and say goodbye to Grim. Sunrise meant that you would wait outside of the hut for one of the staff members to pick you up. Sunrise meant you would travel pack to the main school grounds and rest in your bed for the day.

Going back to NRC, without Grim, meant that you would always be back the next Friday.

#✎haunted books✎#briarvalleyarchives #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland writing #twst writing #my writing #twst grim #grim twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 10 months

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Though The Path May Be Long, I Shall Find You; Jack Howl

A path lies ahead, some are more treacherous than others. At the end of the winding, coloured footsteps is where they can rest; a bird directing them forward, made out of precious stone.

Main Character; Jack Howl

Supporting Roles; Jack's parents, Vil Schoenheit (if you squint), Leona Kingscholar, bird messengers

Content; Soulmate AU (I use the term soul match), gender-neutral reader, this can be read as platonic, familial, or romantic, made up some lore for Jack's family, hurt/comfort (but not as much as the others)

Content Warning; brief violence (not reader or Jack), some swearing, nightmares (reader)

Word Count; 5 K

Do not put mine - or other creators’ - works into AI; that shit steals.

Prologue & Leona's Story | Ruggie's Story

Winter was in the air, despite it only being the start of September. But this was the Shaftlands, winter always came early, and a thin blanket of snow would be covering the ground before the end of the month. Jack was out picking berries with his father, as his mother was out hunting game to fill their freezer for the long winter nights. The Howl family was stocked up on almost everything, but having some fresh and rare cloudberries were always welcomed; especially during the long nights that were to come. A raven flew overhead and came to rest on his father’s shoulder, croaking into his ear.

Jack’s ears perked up, but he continued picking berries, trying to overhear the conversation between his father and his messenger, made from sodalite. Hmm, oh there’s a large patch over there! Dad’s busy so he wouldn’t notice if I went ahead and picked those!

“What news do you bring,” the older man asked the bird. A particular harsh wind rustled through the evergreens. Seems like winter would be here early this year, earlier than usual.

The raven puffed up, and shook their head. “The Mrs has harvested a moose, a large bull. Enough to feed the household until spring.”

Mr Howl nodded his head and his raven was off again, going back to reunite with the others. “Jack?” He called out. Nothing. “Jack?!” He looked to where he was earlier, but he wasn’t there. “JACK?!” He shouted, causing birds to leave the trees in a panic. “JACK HOWL?!”

Jack was still busy picking berries, and he stopped upon hearing the echoing, concerned, yelling of his dad. How had he gotten so far away? “Dad? I’m over here dad!” He stayed calm, and stayed put. Should you ever get lost, stay put. Should you panic and run more you’ll only get yourself more lost. He got up on a rock and waved his arms, in the hope that his dad would notice the movement. “I’m over here! DAD?!”

A twig snapped in the undergrowth, and Jack stopped. The wind was moving towards him and he could smell something, something dangerous. He wedged himself into a narrow rock overhang and held his breath. Slow padded footsteps thudded outside and soon he could see the brown fur of a brown bear outside of his hiding place. And he could hear and feel the hot breath entering the crevice.

“JACK?!” His dad shouted, and all he saw was something white and furry fighting the bear. But it wasn’t his dad, it was his mom. “Jack, come on! Hurry!” His dad forcibly dragged him out of his hiding spot and made a beeline home.

…

“What were you thinking,” his mom inspected his face, looking for any marks, even though during the fight with the brown bear a claw had left a gash on her shoulder blade. “I told you to stay with your dad while out foraging-”

Jack’s eyebrows were knotted, and his lip trembled. His mother stopped and cupped his face.

“Love,” she embraced him in a crushing hug, “we were worried about you. Please, just stick near us. Okay? You’re okay, Jack.”

Jack squeezed her back, tail in between his legs. “I’m sorry Mom.” He just wanted to pick some cloudberries, his mom’s favourite. He wanted to surprise her with enough so that they could make some jam together. But all the berries that he had picked had been destroyed during the fight. It was all for naught.

A light knock on the front door made him stop, and his mother went to answer it. At the door stood a blond boy a few years older than Jack, bright amethyst eyes looking up. “Excuse me, Mrs. Howl, but can I play with Jack?”

Jack’s mom looked at Vil, taking mind to make sure her wound dressing was still covered. “Sorry Vil, but-” she stopped and looked towards her son. “But, you’ll have to play here, in the yard.”

Jack looked up, asking silently for permission, and his mom nodded a yes. “What do you wanna play,” he asked excitedly, grabbing some of their usual play things.

Vil smiled, and helped bring the toys outside. “Hmmm, what about knights? Trying to save the village?”

And the two boys went off and played. Vil would continue to visit every day, until a large ice storm rolled in on Jack’s fifth birthday, forcing everyone to stay inside.

That night, as Jack was starting to fall asleep, he looked outside. The ice had temporarily stopped, and a bright orange moon hung in the sky. Green and blue auroras painting the night sky. Jack didn’t know what to ask for when it came to his messenger. He knew it was going to be a raven, as it was customary for a raven to form a bond with a wolf pup.

“Can I,” he paused, thinking. What do I want? “Can I have someone there for me?” He was about to turn in for the night, but an unseasonably warm wind opened the window. He rushed to close it, and when he looked down there was a raven messenger, but it wasn’t made out of typical stone. It was made of petrified wood; representing trust, grounding, and knowledge. But he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he had a raven. That he had a soul match. That’s all that mattered.

…

Jack placed his belongings down on the floor and the desk beside his bed, looking over the room. He didn’t know what to expect of Savanaclaw, but he was thankful that he at least had a dorm, unlike the one student. They also smelled… different, not a bad different, but different. They didn’t smell like they were from Twisted Wonderland, that they were from somewhere entirely different. But that wasn’t any of his business, and he wasn’t about to poke his nose into someone else’s business, let alone a complete stranger.

He shook his head and started placing his items where he thought they would go best. And since he was now in a place temperate enough without any harsh winters, he could finally start growing some plants he saw in a book once; some cacti. The little green plants spoke to him; they survived in harsh conditions and adapted to not only survive but to strive. He could appreciate that, even if the plant did prick him every so often, he couldn’t blame it for doing so, that’s what the spines are meant for.

His mind wandered, wondering if his siblings were doing okay? He knew that his parents were more than capable of looking after them, but he still worried. Ever since his mom fought off that bear, she hasn’t been able to use her left arm like she normally did; weaker from nerve damage. Her raven also had the scar, and couldn’t fly due to it. But she never alluded that she was in pain, keeping on a brave face for Jack, and later on for his siblings.

Jack looked down to his raven. Unlike the others, his raven was made of fossilized wood, preserved throughout the aeons. He turned it over gently, his hands dwarfing it in comparison. It would stay small, small enough to hold until his soul match’s bird awoke… that is if he had one at all. Apparently, messengers made out of anything other than stone were rare and could be seen as a blessing, but also as a warning. A warning that hardships may await them in the future. He didn’t want to dwell on that though, he had a messenger so that in itself proved that there was someone out there for him. Be they a friend, found family, or life partners, like his parents.

“What lessons do you hold,” he asked quietly, ears twitching making sure the coast was clear. He placed the wooden bird on his desk carefully, and when he was satisfied, he left the room, heading off to the dining hall.

A cold breeze entered the room, which was rare for the Savanaclaw dorm. It carried the smell of snow, pine trees, and a lone snowflake landed on the wood raven, resting between their eyes. They shook their head and stretched out their wings, flexing them for the first time. The cold wind was gone as soon as it came, the warmth from the sun-baked stone returning.

The raven hopped to the window sill, looking out to the rapidly setting sun. “The time is nigh. They are here.” And they took off, but not to find Jack.

…

You couldn’t sleep, but what could you really expect? You had just arrived to this ‘Twisted Wonderland’ and everything you knew had been flipped upside down. Magic was real. There are merfolk, fae, and beastmen?! All of the fairy tales were true but they were Disney-fied; honestly that probably saved your butt, since the originals are… well you would have had fewer chances of survival let’s just say that.

“I swear if I see one more Mickey Mouse easter-egg-” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your temples. It didn’t help that your new place, Ramshackle Dorm, was not up to code. How that ‘Headmage’ thought the decaying mansion was suitable to live in was beyond you. To be fair, he does seem to be quite a few screws loose.

A gust of cold wind blew the windows open and you scrambled to close them. When you finally got them closed a low croaking was behind you. You turned around and on your bed were two ravens, but they looked to be made of stone instead of flesh and feathers. “Finally arrived, I see,” the one said, hopping up to stand on the bed frame.

You blinked a few times, but the ravens were still there. “Uhhhh, I just got here.” You had already been exposed to so much today that, sure why not, talking stone birds are totally normal now. Totally normal. Nope, not internally freaking out. You are totally zen. WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?! Not having an existential crisis. Everything is normal here.

“We have been waiting many years for you,” the other raven spoke, their voice being deeper than the previous one. They stood stoically, unlike the more hyper one which was tracing patterns in the hole-ridden bedsheets. “However, there is much to learn here. You must grow before I or your messenger digress any further information. For now, know this; many a hardship will fall your way, but you must stand tall. You are stronger than you give yourself credit for.” They bowed to you and took flight, exiting through the window from whence they came, leaving you alone with the more playful bird.

Many a hardship will come your way. You had just gotten here and that cryptic line of advice sounded more like a warning than something comforting. I must stand tall? I’m stronger than I give myself credit for? Haven’t I already received enough character development? I just… I want to go home.

You felt a soft tap tap tap on your hand. The raven had stopped making patterns and was sitting beside you, looking up at you. “Come now, it has been a long enough day for you. You cannot do anything if you are not well rested. Off to bed with you now, shoo shoo!” They flapped at you with their wings.

You planted your feet down, and stopped. “And why should I listen to you?!” You snapped. For all that you knew, this could be a prank, a hazing ceremony of sorts.

The raven stopped and calmed down. “I am a part of you. Once you awaken tomorrow, I shall tell you everything that you ought to know.”

You would have protested more, but in all honestly all of your energy had been drained throughout the day. The mattress was hard and lumpy, the sheets thin and with holes, but you fell asleep quickly. The wood raven silently looking after you.

“King of Beasts,” they said in a hushed tone, looking up to the moonless night. “Make haste, for many a challenge will face them. Send their match on his quest for them… before something else finds them.”

…

When Jack got back to his dorm it was dark out, being held back by a fight between Leona and the Diasomnia housewarden. But when he opened the door he stilled. When he left, his wood raven was sitting on his desk, and now it was flying around and collecting anything shiny it could find. “Oh, this would make for a lovely present, yes, yes, that will do nicely!”

His soul match was finally here then. He should have felt happy, but all he felt was confusion. Should I be… happy? “What are you doing?” He asked the raven, as it had made a mess of his side of the room.

The raven squawked, and dropped a coin it was carrying. “Ah, Jack, my good fellow! Finally back I see! Oh, I’m just gathering up some exquisite gifts for you to give to your match!” They presented all of the ‘presents’ they had collected; several coins, a bobby pin, and some dryer lint. “Are they not lovely?”

Jack’s ears pulled back, “You didn’t have to do that, I can do it myself.” He wouldn’t classify any of those gifts 'exquisite’ or ‘lovely’. “Nevermind that. How are you alive?” He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it, to have confirmation that this was real. That this was really happening.

The raven hopped down to the floor and bit at his tail, hard.

“HEY-”

“There, proof that I’m alive. There should be a bruise tomorrow as well.” The raven looked smug, and puffed up with pride. “Oh your meeting shall be splendid! Their raven and I have it all planned out-”

“No,” he interjected. “Nothing is planned out, it’s not your place to plan how, when, or where, we meet. Don’t force them to do anything.” He didn’t want to force his match with anything, even if both of their birds wanted nothing more than to plan some horribly cheesy scene. “We will meet when we meet.”

The raven stilled in its actions, looking at the things it had collected. “Which will be when, Jack? It has been over ten years since you received me.”

Jack pushed his hair out of his face, centering himself. “I’m not sure, but one day. It could be tomorrow. It could be a week. Months. Or years. But we will meet when we deem ourselves ready. That isn’t for you to decide… So please, let us do it on our own terms.” He sighed, and sat down. He wasn’t planning on any of this happening and it was only his first day at Night Raven College, and there was still yet more to come.

…

Jack had adjusted to life in Savanaclaw and the college. He may not always agree with how… underhanded some of his peers may be, but he wished not to rock the boat. But he had stepped out of his comfort zone, he had confronted others when they abused their power. But even with all of that chaos, he had made a friend; you. But he knew that you hadn’t told him everything, and he wasn’t going to push you for it either. You would do that on your own terms, and he would patiently wait. Unlike his raven who kept on pushing him.

“It’s almost winter break,” they croaked in his ear. “Do you not wish to inform your parents of this wonderous news? That your match is here?”

Jack shrugged the bird off, and sighed. “I would, but I would like to know that for certain that they, my match, are prepared for… that. Mother can be… overprotective.” He may not be a young pup anymore, but his mother still doted over him. And yes, he loves her, but he doesn’t want to throw his match to the wolves when it came to his family. He didn’t want to rush into it. He wanted a slow progression where they got to know each other.

The raven relented in its actions. “Ah, I understand… have you seen the footsteps yet?”

“No.” No, he had not. There was no trace of any glowing footsteps, and he has yet to be visited by his match’s raven, which means that they were not ready. There was still something they were looking for; either in themselves or around them. He just wondered; what were they looking for?

…

Books upon books upon books, and there was absolutely nothing. No word of your world, the only thing coming close being this world’s version of Paris. Other than that, nothing. You were frustrated. Have the weeks of pouring over volumes of text been for nothing? And now winter break was nearing, and you would be left alone here… stuck as you have been for the past several months.

“Prefect, you look unwell,” Jack’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He had become an unlikely friend during your time here. He had helped you so many times before, and now he even brought you some lunch, as you were hunched over yet another book. “And you’ve been reading non-stop.”

You looked over to your friend, and there was concern in his warm, golden eyes. A lot of people saw Jack as aloof, but you saw him as warm, but not overbearingly so. “Just trying to understand a few things is all. You don’t need to worry about me, Jack, you’ve done more than enough as is!” He had even brought you a plate of pear compote, his favourite.

He didn’t look convinced, his ears pinned back. “You can just ask, Prefect. I may not know everything, but it’s best to not let things cloud your mind.” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

“What do stone birds mean?” You quickly closed your mouth, regretting that you brought it up. As far as you could tell, no one else had a stone bird. “Ignore that-”

Jack cocked his head. “Prefect, do you have one?” He didn’t need an answer, as your expression, body language, and fast heart rate was one enough. “A stone bird means that you have a soul match. Someone who is right for you. They can come in many forms… but a lot of people wish for a romantic one. The more common ones are familial or platonic matches though.” He reached down into his bag, getting out a small journal with a wolf and raven on it.

“Don’t get your hopes up, herbivore,” Leona took a seat at your table and eyed the journal. “Shouldn’t be letting some bird tell you who to bond with.”

You picked at your plate; both of what they said playing in your mind. Jack’s ears twitched, and he opened up the journal. In it were crystal meanings, common birds for the different clans of beastmen. “Bitter, aren’t we?”

Leona’s ears pinned back, and Jack shifted closer to you. He didn’t know why, and he knew that Leona wouldn’t try anything, but he felt compelled to protect you from harm, even if it never came. And the hairs on his neck stood on end, much as the hackles of an agitated canine would.

Leona raised an eyebrow at Jack and rolled his eyes. “Not bitter, herbivore,” he sighed. “Just don’t like havin’ someone else call the shots for me, let alone some pesky bird and some long-dead king from times past.”

Jack huffed and handed the book to you, ignoring his house warden. “Hopefully this helps, since the messengers can’t tell us anything of substance-”

“What’s your stone bird?” Your eyes widened, and you fumbled. Why did I do that? That’s something that only… his soul match should know? What’s the etiquette on asking about soul matches? Did I offend him? Why is Leona looking so smug right now?

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, “A raven, that’s the messenger that wolf beastmen and their soul match receive.”

Huh, that’s- Wait a minute MY ‘messenger’ is a raven- Your brain was scrambling trying to put that information together. “That makes sense, I guess,” is what came out of your mouth instead of some hot word vomit. “Since, ya know, ravens form friendships with wolves and help lead them to food- Well in this case not food, rather their soul match…” You stopped talking, feeling like you were just digging yourself into a deeper hole. Best stop while I’m ahead. STOP RAMBLING! “But, uhhh, thanks for the book Jack!” You smiled warmly, finally having at least a few answers to the seemingly never ending list of questions you had.

“It’s no problem,” Jack offered a small smile and a nod of his head. But you knew that it was genuine, you could read him like an open book.

I don’t get why people are intimidated by him. Jack’s a nice guy. Sure, he’s a bit aloof at first, but he means well. “Just let me know if there’s anything I can do for you, okay?” He had already helped you out so many times before, so you only thought it would be fair for you to help him out in return in the future; not to repay him, but because you’re his friend. Friends help out friends.

He gave you a nod and the bell rang, and you were both off to your respective classes. Both of your wooden messengers flying after you, giving each other a nod.

…

Ink. Ink was everywhere. Hands were everywhere. And eyes, so many eyes were looking down at Jack. What is this? He shook his head and the scene changed, there were still eyes looking down, but the hands were gone, and there were only a few puddles of ink? Overblot? But there was no one around. The scene shifted again, and this time he was in the magishift field. Leona’s overblot?

“It’s their nightmares, I’m afraid. Rather rare for their dreams to enter into yours.” His raven said, but was nowhere near, off in the physical world. “I cannot do anything I’m afraid.”

But why is my soul match having nightmares of overblots? Only certain people have witnessed them… But he walked forwards, the field shifting into water, the browns and tans fading into blues and purples. Azul’s overblot? But only- But he was ripped out of the dream by his alarm blaring. He shot up out of bed, in a cold sweat. “What was that,” he huffed, trying to calm his racing heart.

His raven hopped over, and handed him a towel. “Night terrors. Premonitions. Awful things. They’ve been haunted by them for months now.”

This caused Jack to frown. His soul match has been haunted by dreams, dreams that he had just witnessed for months? How in the Seven were they able to get any sleep if their dreams were filled with the fraction of what he saw? They must be exhausted… “Is there anything I can do to help?” He hadn’t really thought it over, but the urge to help his soul match, whoever they were, was strong

“Hmm, until you properly meet through the path, no. but you know them, so just keep on supporting them-” the raven stopped, realizing its blunder. Jack wasn’t supposed to know that he had already met his soul match.

He narrowed his eyes at the wood bird. “I know them,” he said, not amused. “How long have I known them for?”

The raven did its impression of a guilty smile. “Oh since about… Actually, I can't say that, as that would be a dead giveaway and can’t have that happen, no no, can’t have that happen at all.”

Jack just stared at his messenger, and he bounced his knee, thinking. If my raven won’t tell me anything maybe their’s will… But that would have to wait until later, right now he was behind in his morning routine. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone then.” If you won’t tell me, maybe their raven will.

…

Night after night has only been nightmare upon nightmare. Waking up, sweating, gasping, and feeling like there were eyes everywhere. But they were just dreams. Dreams aren’t real. Dreams shouldn’t scare you. But they did. And tonight was no different.

The sun wasn’t up yet, but you couldn’t fall back asleep. You didn’t get up either, staying in a fetal position, trying to rid the feeling of sticky ink and the sensation that you were being watched. “It was just a dream,” you whispered, “it was just a dream.”

“Dreams have meaning,” the throaty voice of someone said. Out of the darkness walked forward a raven, much like your own. “It is good to heed them.”

Dreams have meaning. “Who is the wolf then,” you ease out of the fetal position and sit up, staring at the raven. Your soul match’s raven.

Amongst the nightmares, the being that saves you is a large white wolf, standing between the darkness, the hands, and the eyes, protecting you. A white knight in furry armour if you will.

The raven clamoured into your lap, getting comfortable. “Thought it would have been obvious. The wolf is your soul match, dearie. Afterall, ravens are the messengers and companions of wolves.”

You knew that much already, and looked down at the wood raven. “That’s not what I meant, and you know that.” Why can’t they give me a straight answer? It’s not that difficult of a thing. “Who are they?”

The raven sighed and propped itself back up. “I cannot tell you that… but I may give you this; you know him. And he is closer than you think.” They perched themself on the window sill, the full moon backlighting their silhouette. “And he knows you. Why do you think he’s in your dreams? It’s a very special link, do treat it with care.” They took off into the night, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You looked up to the sky, searching for answers. “Should I follow?” A brisk wind entered through the cracks of Ramshackle Dorm, ruffling the sheets and loose papers. It was cold, but in a comforting way. You closed your eyes and breathed in, and when you opened them again you saw glowing footsteps the colour of the harvest moon.

You are ready. The breeze seemed to say. The time for waiting and second-guessing was over. Now was the time for action.

…

Jack was doing his morning workout session early since he couldn’t fall back asleep after that nightmare, and running tended to get his mind off of things. He was running laps when he noticed something glowing on the ground. Footsteps. “Did you have something to do with this?” He looked up to where his raven was flying overhead.

The raven swooped down, coming to glide by Jack’s head. “No, just some reassurance is all.”

“What did you tell them,” he huffed, speeding up his pace. The footsteps followed him, but they led outside of the field, to the tree that always grew flowers. That’s where they ended. That’s where I’ll meet them?

The raven soared overhead, looking between Jack and the tree, where someone was sitting patiently, picking at the hems of their sleeping clothes; you. “That they know you. And that they are a lot closer than you think.” The raven stopped in front of Jack, making the wolf-beastman stop right in his tracks. “Go to them. They are ready, Jack. And so are you. Can you feel it? It’s in the air.”

There was a slight breeze that carried the smell of winter, but there was something else. Anticipation. And if Jack focused just right, he could hear the anxious heartbeat of his soul match, waiting for him. He looked towards the tree, where his raven was looking, and saw your outline, the weakest hints of the waking sun rising behind you and lighting your features in soft pinks, purples, and orange.

The footsteps led to you. And Jack could feel his tail wagging furiously. Wagging so hard that it was hitting his legs.

Go to them.

He wanted to run forward, but he controlled himself to a calm walk, not wanting to surprise you. All while trying to control his tail which would be a dead giveaway that he was beyond happy that it was you; his soul match had been you all along.

You sat under the tree, as the footsteps lead you there. And so you sat, watching the dark navy of the sky change colours as the sun rose. You heard footsteps approaching you, but you didn’t look up or get up. You knew. You knew they were your soul match.

Closing your eyes you turned to them, and took in a deep breath. “I don’t know exactly what soul matches are, but I do know that I want to put in the effort to befriend you. Not because some raven told me too. But I do hope we can be friends at the least.” You stopped, waiting for his response.

Jack tilted his head, and huffed out a breath of air in amusement. “I don’t think that will be a challenge.”

Your eyes shot open, and Jack was sitting beside you, the light of the rising sun reflecting in his gold eyes. Your raven was on his shoulder, preening his hair, and his raven was on your’s, fixing your outfit. The two birds stopped their actions, realizing that both of you had finally noticed the other. They took off, and performed their dance before falling back onto your shoulders.

“So,” you started, picking at the hem of your shirt, a nervous habit. “What now? Does this change anything between us? Do you want anything to change?”

Jack looked at you softly. “I’m okay with whatever you’re comfortable with… Do you want anything to change?”

I feel safe with you. You gave him a soft smile, “Not really… but I’m okay if it changes as we do. As long as it’s together.”

Fin!

Author's Note; Jack's story is the one with the least amount of hurt/comfort, so he deviates a bit. Happy with how this turned out though! And I hope I did Jack some justice in this! This story also concludes Savanaclaw's part in the Soul Match AU.

TWST Masterlist (if you want to read more)

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opinated-user · 7 months

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Sort of a nuanced take so bear with me here-- I honestly think its a little weird that you obsessively post about every trans woman that happens to be poorly behaved. Not saying that Lily Orchard, Sophie Labelle, whoever this Poppy person is aren't doing bad things. It's just I don't know kind of strange that you have a blog all about documenting trans woman misbehavior as a non-binary person. Speaking as a trans woman you come off as transmisogynistic some times. I'm sorry it is. The only people who's bad behavior you post about are trans women. That's weird.

this blog started off talking about LO because i have seen evidence of her abusive/predatory actions to the point i felt worth talking about. she's the main focus.

P&Z came to the picture because they talked and responded to LO's lies about them. turns out they were abusive, as i have seen evidence myself and believed on their victims, and that felt worth talking about. especially since thanks to their videos on LO, the people who watched those and supported them deserve to know the kind of people who made them.

sophie labelle is a big name in trans/progressive spaces. massive even. i was a fan of her work and supported it fully until everything to do with using a irl toddler for lewd furry diaper art came out. i have only ever brought her up on that post in months to make an example of LO having a bigger issue with queer acceptance and usage than with pictures of irl babies being used for porn, so it was relevant.

EssenceOfThought made videos following on LO and then was unabled to continue doing them out of her own circunstances, so that clearly was relevant for this blog. she apologized to both Brittany and me in private for not telling us about that earlier and i have absolutely no ill will towards her or Levi. i'll probably not going to talk about her again in this blog except to say just that.

regarding all of them, i have never, ever, encouraged or supported any kind of harrassment, misgendering or transphobia against them. if anyone has any issue with any of them they can quietly unfollow or unsub. on my pinned post i put link to sites where you can download videos from youtube without giving anyone views if so people want it, encouraging, once again, to not go after any of these people for any reason.

i'm sorry that existing on the internet as a trans woman means being constantly demonized for merely existing. being used constantly as an example of a predator when you haven't done anything to deserve it it's incredibly tought and demorilizing. nobody deserves that. i don't blame you one bit for having a negative reaction when seeing transfemme being called out precisely for that, because so many bad people are going to use that as fuel to keep believing all transfemmes are the same and i hate that, i wish i could change it. for every transfemme that i discuss here i also met so many transfemme who were the sweetest, most considerate, smartest and kindest people that anyone can be.

but keeping quiet about these people is not an option either. it just isn't. they're bad people, dangerous people, who happen to have platforms where they have influence and power over vulnerable people, traumatized people, marginalized people who are desperate to feel safe somewhere. they're bad people because they chose to take advantage of the trust put on them, because they manipulated, lied and abused, not because they're trans women, and if i ever implied that then i'll dennounce it because that couldn't be further from the truth.

these people should never be used as any kind of example of how trans women are. they just happen to be trans. anyone using my blog or anything on it to further that narrative is no ally of mine and i'll block them whenever possible. if there's anything else you think i could do, please let me know.

#lily orchard #poppy&zena

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teecupangel · 1 year

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Hello, I'm here to drop a silly fic idea on you and run:

Are you familiar with the concept of Fruits Basket?

Okay now consider....what if Minerva went about her breeding program in *the most ridiculous possible way*

and anyone born with a certain percentage of Isu DNA turns into an animal when they embrace anyone who *doesn't* have sufficient Isu DNA.

ie the whole Auditore family has enough that Ezio is fine giving family affection

but the first time he chases a pretty girl and she surprises him from around the corner with a tackle-hug

suddenly he's looking up at her from a furry little body and she's running away screaming

child Ezio clumsily slinking his way back to the palazzo on four legs, looking up at his mother with mournful eyes

her scooping him up, "Oh my darling boy, I am so sorry you found out this way."

I read the manga when I was young and watched the earlier anime but I haven’t gotten to watching the new one. also. Wait. Come back. Don't just throw me Fruit Basket and leave. Do you not remember how angsty Fruit Basket can get???

Okay, so, in Fruit Basket, the animals were based on the Chinese Zodiac and there was the whole ‘continuously being reborn for an endless banquet’ curse thing going on but it seemed we’re not going for that vibe? Perhaps, it’s more like the ones with enough Isu DNA can turn into one of the animals in the Chinese Zodiac and it’s really just a roll of the dice (specifically a 12D).

I kinda like the idea of Ezio transforming into the least threatening of his siblings though. Like Federico gets to be an ox, Claudia gets to be a tiger and maybe Petruccio is like a horse or a snake then there’s Ezio being a fluffy sheep. XD

Also, Altaïr would make being the mouse to his stealthily advantage but I kinda wanna make him a white rabbit or a rooster?

Although, we can make it easier for us on what kind of animal they would transform to by actually using their Chinese Zodiac sign:

Altaïr: 1165 - Green Wood Monkey (1165 is the year of the Rooster but Altaïr’s birthday is on January 21, which is before the Chinese New Year, so technically he’s part of the 1164 Year as far as the Chinese Zodiac is concerned)

Ezio: 1459 - Yellow Earth Rabbit

Ratonhnhaké:ton: 1756 - Red Fire Rat

(Calculations from this site)

Then we get to Desmond.

If we take his birth year into consideration (1987), he would be a Red Fire Rabbit BUT may I suggest two alternatives instead?

Desmond does not transform at all and everyone assume that means he’s normal (which is a disappointment for Bill because being able to turn into an animal has become an honorable ‘achievement’ in the eyes of the Assassins and Templars) but this is inaccurate. It’s not that he can’t transform, it’s that he doesn’t have to because his curse isn’t the curse of one of the Zodiac animals but the curse of God. And his curse is the need for a connection with someone who can turn into an animal (which must be given to him freely), binding the two of them regardless of the distance of space and time between them.

He transforms into the cat, the animal ostracized and has only been rumored to have appeared once or twice in history. The cat is always locked up because they are seen as unnatural and is one of the main reason why Desmond ran away.

Or a combination of the two where Desmond’s curse is that of the Cat but the main idea is the Cat is the ‘first’ form of the God curse and, only by creating a connection with another animal (willingly) regardless of the distance in time and space could the cat evolve to being God.

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hopefulatrocity · 9 months

Text

From The Ashes-Chapter 11

Note: Oh gosh, I keep getting deep into these chapters, please note that these chapters are twice as big as the first chapters in this story so it's taking me a bit longer to pop them out. I'm sorry for the delay but I just want to make sure everything is perfect! Thank you @loganlostitall for beta reading!

Banners: @liminal_creations

Dividers: @firefly-graphics & @omiyours

Chapter CW/TW: Past rape/noncon, past child abuse/neglect, anxiety attack, depression, allusions to child loss, transphobia(Shane), Panic

Prev / Next / Masterlist

By the time Daryl, Kismet, and Pheonyx made it back to the farm, the sky was just starting to turn orange. The blazing heat from earlier had dulled to a barely tolerable simmer. Crickets were starting to sing their evening song and fireflies were beginning to float around the fields surrounding the farmhouse. Sometimes Pheonyx was amazed at how nature could continue on, and could remain so normal, despite the carnage and decay that had taken over the world.

Kismet walked lazily beside them, having worn himself out with all the walking and tracking throughout the day. He didn’t even wiggle when Pheonyx picked him up to lift him over the barbed wire at the outlet of the woods.

The three walked together until they reached the split rail fence that bordered half of the main yard of the house. Kismet ducked under the lowest rail and Pheonyx hopped over the fence with ease. Daryl landed beside him a moment later.

The area where the tents were erected that morning was quiet. Only a few of Daryl’s group were moving around, the majority of them were sitting around a small campfire where a large pot was being stirred by Glenn. Low conversation could be heard from the distance between the men and the group, nothing distinct but it was the sounds of multiple people that had Pheonyx’s muscles tensing. These people seemed okay–Shane excluded–he knew that. But he couldn’t help the instinctual reaction to turn tail and run back to the solace of the woods.

A furry head butted into his hand, forcing him to put his attention on the dog at his side, instead of the people congregating on the property.

Daryl had seen the difference in Pheonyx the moment the sounds of T-Dog, Glenn, Shane, and Andrea chatting floated over to them. The calm, relaxed man was suddenly stiff as a board and gripping the straps of his backpack with a white knuckle grip. Kismet made a small whine of concern and pushed himself into Pheonyx’s space, moving the man’s attention away from the campfire in the distance. His inked shoulders slumped a small bit, but the tension was still there.

Daryl felt the urge to chew his thumb, unsure of what to do, but both of his hands were occupied. One was gripping the strap of his crossbow. The other held an old beer bottle– he’d found it on the way back to the farm–that he was using as a vase for the Cherokee rose he picked for Carol. The rose Pheonyx had picked, and handed to him as a promise, was currently tucked in between the folds of the map resting in his breast pocket. Daryl didn’t understand why he did it. All he knew was that when he went to put both roses in the bottle for Carol, he couldn’t part with the smaller stemmed one. The way the younger man had handed it to him, offering words of hope, made an impact on him. He’d grown up around people who offered empty promises. Mama who said she’d stop drinking but never did. Pa who said he’d wouldn’t lay a hand on him anymore when he was sober. Merle who made a pact with him to never leave but not even a year later joined the military and left him alone. Social workers who promised to help him if he told the truth but never followed through. He’d learned not to trust promises. They always lead to heartbreak. But the way Pheonyx had looked at him, had spoken softly and told him that they would find Sophia, made Daryl believe him. He knew, even if they didn’t find the girl, Pheonyx would do everything in his power to try. When he was holding Pheonyx’s rose, he knew he couldn’t give it away. So, when Pheonyx wasn’t looking, he’d pulled out the folded map, and stuck the rose between the thin creases. The map-slightly thicker than it had been before- resting against his chest offered a piece of comfort that hadn’t been there before.

“‘M gonna talk to Carol. Tell ‘er what we found. Do ya-”, Daryl paused, not sure of how to ask. “She might like ta hear ‘bout the bag. Give ‘er some hope. Might be better comin’ from ya.”

Pulling his eyes from the campfire in the distance, Pheonyx took a moment to register what Daryl said. He nodded, grateful for the distraction. The older man inclined his head away from the tent area towards the RV his group brought. Thankfully, it was in the opposite direction of the camp. They began to walk over that way, with Kismet trotting on their heels. As they got closer, a figure appeared on the RV. The man with the bucket hat, Dale, was sitting on top of the large vehicle in a beach chair. He had a hunting rifle in his lap and was looking out into the fields with a pair of binoculars. A little bit of the anxiety in his stomach, the kind that constantly gnaws at his gut no matter the circumstances, lifted. Having someone on lookout for shadows, when Pheonyx couldn’t be there, was a huge relief. He worried for his family, especially in their state of denial, but he couldn’t be there 24/7 to watch for dangers.

Dale lowered his binoculars, having heard the trio approaching, and offered them a smile.

“Any sign of her?”, he asked, taking his hat off and wiping some of the sweat off his forehead.

Pheonyx looked to Daryl, waiting for him to answer his group member, but the man simply grunted and nodded, not elaborating. Awkward silence ensued and Pheonyx coughed, dragging Daryl’s attention to him. He raised his eyebrows and inclined his head towards the man on top of the RV, silently telling Daryl to talk to Dale.

With a roll of his eyes, Daryl spoke shortly, “The mutt found ‘er trail and led us ta an ole’ house she musta stayed in. Gonna head out early tomorrow ta keep lookin’.”

Pheonyx didn’t think it was possible but Dale’s smile widened. The old man replaced the hat on his head and said, “It’s nice to have some good news after the last few days. Carol’s in the RV. Been trying to keep busy all day. Hopefully, this news will help brighten her day a bit.”

As expected, Daryl simply grunted and opened the RV door to go in. Kismet pushed himself in front of the archer, and slipped inside. Daryl cursed as he stumbled a bit, the dog not knowing his strength knocked him off balance. He caught himself on the door and shook his head before stepping inside.

Pheonyx offered Dale a smile of apology for Daryl’s stand-offish attitude and followed the other two inside.

Both Daryl and Pheonyx noted the smell of household cleaners when they entered the small living space. The counters around the vehicle were practically sparkling; dishes were drying in a rack by the small sink; the windows were streak free and glimmered in the evening sun. The younger man hadn’t seen the inside of the RV before but he guessed that Carol had kept busy by cleaning the space top to bottom. He silently whispered a plea to the Earth that Kismet didn’t completely destroy the place and undo the poor woman’s hard work. The dog was tired but he always managed to cause trouble no matter what level of energy he had.

Kismet trotted into the back of the vehicle and a small giggle let the men know where Carol was. They both took a few steps forward , still managing to keep distance between each other despite the small aisle.

Pheonyx smiled as he looked over Daryl’s shoulder and saw Kismet nuzzling his head into the woman’s lap, the mending she had been doing laying to the side. The dog’s tail was wagging but it was very delicate, as if he could sense that he needed to be gentle around the petite woman in front of him. Carol looked up and striking blue eyes met his own. Despite the short gray hair on her head, she looked young. Hardly any lines marked her face and the smile on her face was bright and girlish. There was an underlying sadness in her eyes. But her daughter was missing. It was understandable to be downhearted.

“I’m sorry about Kismet. I was gonna have him stay outside but he slipped in before I could say anything,” Pheonyx said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, he’s fine.”, Carol said meekly. She rubbed Kismet’s head and scratched his ears, taking comfort from the softness of his fur. “Sophia always wanted to have a dog but Ed, my husband, hated animals.”

Pheonyx responded without thinking, “He sounds like a dick.” Daryl whipped his head to look at the younger man behind him, shocked–but also amused– by his bluntness. Pheonyx’s eyes widened as he realized how callous his words sounded, considering her husband had just recently died. “I’m sorry-”

“He was a dick.” Carol cut in, chuckling. “We haven’t officially met. I’m Carol. Thank you for volunteering to look for my Sophia.”, at the sound of her daughter’s name, tears filled the woman’s eyes and she used the hand not touching Kismet to catch the drops that fell.

Pheonyx felt Daryl tense at the sight of the emotional woman and he understood the feeling. He wanted to run from the RV and go hide in the stables. But he couldn’t do that. If anything he was one of only people on the farm who could empathize with her. So, he sucked in a breath and muttered an apology as he wormed his way around Daryl. The other man flinched, not expecting the movement. Pheonyx sat down on the bed a foot away from the willowy woman and held his hand out in an offer of comfort. Carol gladly took it and encompassed his calloused hands with her small soft one. Brain set aflame with the need to run from the strange touch, Pheonyx swallowed down his fear and gave her fingers a small squeeze. Kismet whined and moved his head to lay in the spot between them.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t find her today,” he spoke softly and looked into her sparkling blue eyes. “Kismet was able to find her trail and he led us to one of the abandoned farm houses on the far ends of the property. Daryl found a cabinet that we think she slept in, and the empty cans of food that were still wet, so we're probably not even 24 hours behind her. She has supplies now too-”

“Supplies?” Carol questioned.

“The first month after phone lines went down, I set up bug-out bags on areas around the whole property. Just in case something happened to the farm. One of those was at the house. It has a week's worth of food and water, a pop up tent, and a hunting knife. The bag was gone when we got there and the only tracks in the house were hers. We don’t have to worry about her getting dehydrated or being hungry anymore. We just have to catch up to her,” Pheonyx chose not to mention worrying about shadows. Sophia had a knife now, but that didn’t mean she knew how to use it. They just had to hope she managed to avoid them or learned how to fell the corpses quickly.

A light sniffle came from Carol’s nose and she pulled the entwined fingers up to press a kiss to the back of his hand, right over the skull tattoo. A light blush overtook Pheonyx’s face and he ducked his eyes. It wasn’t physical attraction. Carol was beautiful but the aura she radiated was purely motherly to the young man. The soft kiss had been imbued with such maternal love and tenderness that he felt his chest clench. It was the kind of affection that he had always yearned for from his own mother. After finding out that her first husband was abusing Pheonyx, his mother had distanced herself from her oldest son. She was there to clean his wounds but she wasn’t there to prevent them. She held him at a distance and no matter how much he tried to pull her closer, she always ended up farther away. Pheonyx always thought it was because she felt guilty that she hadn’t noticed or stopped the abuse when it started. He felt like in order to protect herself from the gnawing culpability, she had to create a wall between herself and her son. It wasn’t an excuse. It was simply an explanation. She had stepped up a bit when he was in the hospital six years prior but by then it was too little too late. And now that she was dead, he didn’t think he would ever get to feel what maternal care truly was. But Pheonyx felt it now. Maybe that was why he felt the anxiety bugs– that had been crawling across his skin where Carol touched– disappear. It filled a hole in his heart that time had never managed to fix.

“Thank you. I can’t thank you both enough for doing this. For even believing that she’s okay.” Carol reached over to the bedside table and grabbed a tissue, using it to wipe the tears trailing down her cheeks. “Everyone keeps telling me things will be fine. That we’ll find her. But I can tell they don’t believe it.”

“I bel-”, Pheonyx looked to Daryl, who was trying to make himself look smaller to avoid the emotional conversation happening in front of him, and corrected himself. “We believe it. We’ve already decided we’re heading out first thing in the morning to look again.”

There was still a look of doubt on her face, the kind that lingered after losing all hope and Pheonyx cleared his throat. He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand, trying to think of a way to comfort her that didn’t involve telling one of his biggest losses. But he couldn’t. So, for the first time in 6 years, Pheonyx opened up without saying the words, “You’re feeling alone right now. There’s people surrounding you and you still feel like the only person for miles. They’re there but they don’t understand. A part of you is missing. A piece of your heart. A piece of your soul. They’re able to go on about their life like nothing’s happened. But you’re still trying to figure out how to simply breathe when there’s a hole in your chest where they used to be.” The hand holding his tightened and the look Carol gave him was empathetic. She knew without hearing the words that Pheonyx could understand the type of loss she was dealing with. All signs pointed to Sophia being alive, but that didn’t change the lingering doubt that filled the woman’s mind. Sophia was missing and there was a chance it was too late. So, Carol was filled with grief for a child that could be dead but also hope that they’d find her well and safe. “You’re strong, Carol. We just need you to be strong for a little longer.”

Daryl watched the interaction between Pheonyx and Carol with awe and fear. Fear because he didn’t know how to handle other people’s deep emotions. He hardly knew how to handle his own. Awe because he saw Pheonyx give Carol the hope he’d been trying to offer for the last couple of days. Daryl never considered himself to be a particularly smart man. His Pa always took the time to tell him how stupid he was, at least 2 or 3 times a day when he was around. But he wasn’t blind. He noticed the look of shared grief between Carol and Pheonyx. The way the older woman gripped the younger man’s hand a bit tighter. Had Pheonyx lost a child? He didn’t look much older than his sister, Maggie, or even Beth really. But Daryl also knew that age wasn’t a reliable determinate for having kids. Most of the people he grew up with started having kids around 14. Although that could be attributed to a horrible sex education curriculum and lack of resources for free birth control. The way Pheonyx had spoken though, seemed to leak empathy as opposed to sympathy. Daryl could only conclude that he must have lost a child, whether it be his own or someone close to that. The younger man had mentioned losing his brother and mother early after the world fell, but didn’t mention a kid. Not that he expected the man to bear all his losses to him when they’d only met earlier that morning.

Sniffling a small bit, Pheonyx stood up. He gave Carol’s hand one last squeeze before releasing it. Kismet’s tail began to wag in earnest and the appendage thudded against the wall in a fast rhythm.

“I’m gonna go find Rick and set up a plan for tomorrow.” Pheonyx said before facing Daryl. He had to stop himself from getting lost in the man’s deep blue eyes and averted his gaze to the bottle in his hand. “All yours, Apollo.”

He slid past the other man, being careful not to touch the archer, even though his body screamed at him to do so. Having passed Daryl, Pheonyx recalled Kismet, wanting to give the others their privacy. Also not trusting the dog to not get into trouble without him there. Over Daryl’s shoulder, Pheonyx saw Kismet give Carol’s leg one last nuzzle before shoving his tank of a body between Daryl’s legs. The dog was wholly unaware of his size and Pheonyx had to withhold a snort as Daryl barely managed to catch himself from falling over.

Blue eyes followed Pheonyx’s form out of the trailer, trying not to focus on the curves of his shoulders and the outline of his backside in the dirty jeans hugging sharp hips. A small cough had him jerking his head away from the direction of the RV door towards where Carol was sitting. He was met with a slightly amused gaze and a singular raised eyebrow. Blistering heat trickled up his shoulders and over his neck. Avoiding the questions that surely would follow, Daryl placed the bottle on the table near the bed. Thankfully, the distraction worked and he didn’t have to come up with excuses for why he couldn’t stop staring at the younger man.

It didn’t take Pheonyx long to find Rick. The man was sitting on the steps of the house's wrap-around porch. He was still wearing his Sheriff’s uniform and stuck out like a sore thumb compared to his grungier looking compatriots. His star badge glinted orange, reflecting the light from the setting sun. Seemingly lost in his own head, Rick didn’t even notice Pheonyx until he was right in front of him. Kismet whined happily at seeing the familiar man and pushed his head into Rick’s lap forcefully. Despite the intense look on his face a few moments before, a bright smile crossed over his face. Light blue eyes–that Pheonyx couldn’t help compare to a certain archer’s–glanced up at him.

“How did it go?” Rick asked while scratching Kismet’s ears.

Pheonyx relayed the information that they had gotten during their search, the same things he had told Carol just moments earlier.

“Daryl and I are taking Kismet out at first light to pick up her trail again,” he finished, taking a seat on the porch next to the Sheriff. Kismet wiggled his butt happily and shoved his head into Pheonyx’s lap.

“I can’t tell you how nice it is to have some good news for a change. Knowing she has some supplies is a huge weight off our shoulders. I’m sure Carol is grateful as well,” Rick took a deep breath of relief. “Shane, T-Dog, Glenn, and I are all ready to set up the search grid tomorrow.”

Pheonyx grimaced a little bit, thinking about the complications that came along with more people searching, “I talked with Daryl and he agreed that we should wait to do a full search party for Sophia.”

“Why? Isn’t it better to have more people searching? Cover more ground?” Rick asked in confusion.

“A few reasons. The main being that I worry about others getting lost or hurt. I don’t have enough maps with my traps labeled to hand out to everyone. All it takes is one shadow sneaking up to get someone stuck on a spear or to fall into one of the burn pits. There’s also dangerous terrain that could be difficult for you all to handle,” Rick nodded with his reasoning so Pheonyx continued. “Kismet is still in training, his attention span isn’t always great. I worry that if we have a bunch of people out searching the trail will get messed up or the overlapping scents will confuse him.”

Rick was silent for a moment, thinking about what Pheonyx had said, “All right. I trust you. Is there anything we can do in the mean time?”

“Rick. It’s a farm. We have 50 head of cattle and 4 horses. There is a never ending amount of work. Especially if I’m out searching all day. Taking up my chores would be a huge help,” Pheonyx scrubbed Kismet’s ears and the dog’s tongue rolled out in happiness. “Besides, might be good to show Hershel how useful extra hands on the farm can be.”

“Yeah, he’s already asked us to leave as soon as Carl is better,” There was a note of fear in the older man’s voice and he rubbed his face with hand in frustration. “It’s bad out there, Pheonyx. I don’t know how long we can make it on the road. I can’t take my son back out there. I just can’t.”

“Look, I’m not trying to make excuses for my stepfather. He’s bull-headed on the best of days. But, he’s a good person. I think, with enough time, he will change his mind. I’ll lean on him a bit. For now, help around the farm, follow his rules, let him get to know all of you, and maybe have Carl make puppy eyes at him.”

The joke worked and Rick chuckled lightly. “Speaking of Carl. He’s been asking to talk to you. He’s up now if you want to go see him.”

Before he could answer, Kismet grumbled and turned his head to woof at the Sheriff.

Rolling his eyes, Pheonyx patted the dog’s side. “Mind if I bring Kismet in? He likes kids.”

“Of course. He’d love that. We lost our family dog about a year before all this started. He had spots like Kismet’s so Carl named him Domino,” a wide smile broke across Rick’s face as he reminisced on the old mangy dog that Carl had pulled in the house when he was only 5. He’d held onto the dog’s dirty neck and cried until Lori finally relented on keeping him.

Standing up, Pheonyx left the man to his thoughts and walked around the house to the back door. It would have been easier to go in the front door, which was only a few feet from where he and Rick were sitting, but he wanted to steer clear of Hershel.

Avoidance was fruitless. He knew he would have to talk to him sooner or later. Especially if he was going to put in a good word for the group to stay on the farm. Talk? More like argue, Pheonyx thought with an internal sigh. Ever since his mother and brother’s death, he’d avoided confronting Hershel on his skewed views on the shadows. He walked away when the subject was brought up, and tried to ignore the groaning from the barn. The few times he tried to change Hershel’s mind had ended in shouting matches. Which ultimately led to Pheonyx having a PTSD-induced panic attack in the stables each time. So, he fixed the outside of the barn as much as could, reinforcing rotten boards and surrounding the perimeter with barbed wire. It wasn’t foolproof. Eventually the old wood would splinter and the shadows would be freed. He just hoped it wouldn’t be before his step-father changed his mind about the status of the infected.

Kismet reached the back door before Pheonyx, and started to claw the base of the screen frame, probably eager for dinner. He opened the door for the dog, letting him pass and run into the kitchen. There was a light thud and then the sound of his youngest sister’s giggling filled Pheonyx’s ears. While he wasn’t as close with Beth as he was Maggie, the sound of her voice and happy aura always managed to help alleviate his anxiety. A small smile was already gracing his face before he even crossed the threshold of the door.

Kismet had managed to knock Beth to her knees and was covering her face in slobbery kisses. Hands covered in soapy bubbles and purple shirt soaked with water, she had been in the middle of washing the dishes from dinner when Kismet practically tackled her. Pheonyx waited a moment before stepping around the kitchen island to save his sister from the dog’s assault of love. He grabbed the leather collar around Kismet’s neck and gave a gentle tug.

“Kizzie, leave Beth alone.” Pheonyx scolded lightly. Kismet whined but acquiesced to his owner’s command. He walked off and helped himself to the water dish in the corner.

Pheonyx held out his hand to help Beth up. She smiled widely at him, the sunshine of her soul warming his chest.

“Thank you, Nyx. He’s a big teddy bear,” she said before turning back around to the sink to continue washing the dishes. “We already ate dinner but if you’re hungry, there’s some of that chicken you’ve been marinating. We also got some green beans and potatoes from the garden in the fridge too. I would’ve saved you some of ours but there wasn’t much left after feedin’ Carl. I gave the leftovers to Rick and Lori."

“That’s fine, Bethie. You know I like to cook and they probably need the food more than I do,” Pheonyx leaned against the counter next to the sink.

Beth bent back a bit to look out the kitchen door, checking to see if anyone was listening. She lowered her voice slightly, “I don’t think they have enough food to feed everyone. I heard Rick and Shane talkin’ about it when I went in to give Carl lunch. I told Daddy but he told me not to get into their business.”

The worry and sadness in her voice was evident. Beth had always been the most benevolent one of the family and he knew the idea of people going hungry didn’t sit well with her.

“Hershel is trying to distance himself. Don’t worry. I have some food stored in the barn from my runs into town. I’ll let Rick know he’s welcome to it. Once we find Sophia, I can do some more hunting and we can share that with them too,” Pheonyx placed his hand on her shoulder in comfort and leaned forward to press a kiss to her temple.

She leaned into him and wrapped one arm around his waist to hug him. Pheonyx instinctively flinched but his muscles relaxed when he reminded himself of who it was. When Beth pulled away, he saw the glint of sympathy in her eyes and he avoided her gaze, wanting to avoid any pity. While he knew Beth would never pity him, old habits die hard.

“I wanted to go see Carl,” he coughed, trying to brush off the awkwardness he felt.

“He asked about you earlier so he’ll be happy to see you. I took him some of Shawn’s comics, so he’s been busy readin’ those all day.”

“Thanks, Bethie.”, Pheonyx squeezed her shoulder and patted Kismet’s side as he passed the dog, who had placed himself in the door that led into the dining room. A jingle of the buckle on Kismet’s collar and click of nails on the tiled floor let Pheonyx know that the dog was following behind him.

After dinner, Hershel usually spent an hour or two in his office reading. The past few weeks, his book of choice was mostly his bible. For many people, the rising of the dead dissolved any notions of faith in a higher power. In the beginning of the outbreak the news streamed videos, between images of the dead eating people, of mobs burning churches and piles of bibles in anger. It was something Pheonyx could honestly understand. That anger was something he had felt the majority of his life. How could god, someone who supposedly personifies love and forgiveness, attack his creations so blatantly? And if it was the devil who actually brought the carnage upon the world, how could god just stand by and let it happen? For Hershel though, he found the outbreak and the loss of his family members to be tests of his faith. The atrocities that nature flung at their feet had steadfastly strengthened the old man’s beliefs. Pheonyx took a moment to be appreciative of the older man’s dedication to schedules and his religious upbringing. Simply for the fact that he wouldn’t have to run into his stepfather and engage in another verbal spar.

Before Pheonyx reached the door, he stooped down to Kismet’s level and pointed a finger at the dog’s bulky head.

“Behave,” he said sternly. “I know you love kids but Carl’s hurt. You don’t know your strength most of the time.”

He swore that Kismet rolled his chocolate eyes at him before huffing and trotting into the makeshift hospital room where Carl was staying. Shaking his head, Pheonyx followed behind him and looked in the door.

The room was much cleaner than the day before. Sheets stained with blood were replaced by clean linens and the only medical supplies that could be seen was a tray of clean bandages and alcohol located on the bedside table. In the bed, a small lump was under the blankets but in the place where a head would be was a bright comic book being held up by elfin hands. The sound of Pheonyx’s foot stepping on a squeaky floorboard had a pair of blue eyes, mirror images of Rick’s, popping over the top of the pages. Carl closed the comic book and set it on his lap before smiling widely at him. It took only two seconds for the boy to notice Kismet, who was wiggling his whole body with glee at the sight of the child. Nails clicked as the gentle giant began to tap his toes and he grumbled with impatience.

“Dad told me there was a dog! What’s his name? Can I pet him?”, Carl asked excitedly, trying to sit up more. He groaned in pain though and placed his hand on his side.

Pheonyx moved to the boy’s side quickly, “Careful, bud.”

He clicked his tongue and Kismet trotted to his side. Seeming to sense that the kid was in pain, Kismet gently pushed his head into Carl’s hand offering a lick of comfort.

“This is Kismet. You can pet him all you want. He loves to be touched so you’d be doing him a favor.”

Although it seemed impossible, Carl’s smile got even wider as he scratched Kismet’s head and ears. His hands looked like doll’s hands compared to the dog’s prodigious skull.

“We had a dog that looked like him. I named him Domino because he was covered in spots. He liked to steal our neighbor’s newspapers and chew them up. It made mom so mad. Dad and I thought it was funny though,” Carl’s eyes sparkled as he looked up at him. “Are you Pheonyx? Dad said you had a lot of tattoos. I’ve never seen so many before! They’re so cool. Did they hurt? Which one hurt the worst? If I could get a tattoo, I would get the Batman symbol right across my chest. I think my mom would be mad though,” Carl’s button nose scrunched up at the thought of making his mom angry.

Pheonyx chuckled at the boy’s enthusiasm and endless stream of questions, “Tattoos do hurt. More or less depending on where you get them. The ones on my ribs hurt the worst though. And you are right. Your mom would probably be furious if you got a tattoo right now. Wait until you’re 18 and see how you feel then.”

Carl nodded and Pheonyx took a moment to take stock of his appearance. The boy looked much better than he did the day before. Almost 24 hours before, Carl had practically blended in with the white sheets on the bed, skin pale white from blood loss. Today, his skin had pinkened up a bit and the clammy look had been replaced by simple sweat from the humid Georgian air.

“Dad said you’re helping look for Sophia. Thank you. She’s my friend and I’m really worried about her. I wish I could help search. While I was sleeping, I dreamt that she was hiding in a cave and I’m the one who found her.” A sad look passed over his face and he averted his gaze to Kismet, who was drooling from contentment at being rubbed.

Pheonyx sat in the rocking chair next to the bed. “You know I donated blood to you right? Your dad gave more than me but I gave some when you first got here.”, he flipped his hand over and showed his palm to Carl, a small scabbed cut was in the center. He’d cut it when he was sharpening his knife the previous morning, “I also helped hold pressure on your stomach when you got here. That means I got your blood in my cut. Do you know what that means?”

Carl shook his head, not understanding what Pheonyx was trying to say. So the older man continued, “That means we’re blood brothers now.”

“What are blood brothers?,” the confusion was evident in the boy’s voice.

“Well, it’s a pact where two people promise to protect each other and treat each other like real brothers. Most people cut their palms and press their cuts together to share blood. So, ours is a little different. But I think that makes it a lot stronger.”

“So, you’d be like a big brother for me? And I’d be your little brother?”, Carl asked, his eyebrows still scrunched a bit in confusion. When Pheonyx nodded, the boy’s face relaxed and brightened. “I’ve always wanted a brother!”

“As your blood brother, I’m making you a promise that, while you’re healing, Kismet and I will do everything in our power to bring Sophia back since you can’t be out there searching for her yourself. You have to make me a promise in return though.”

Eagerness spread on Carl’s face and he nodded, “Anything!”

“You have to promise to take it easy and to do everything Hershel says so that you can get better. Is that a deal?,” Pheonyx held out his fist to the younger boy, waiting for an answer.

Carl thought for a moment before smiling and bumping his fist against Pheonyx’s. “Deal.”

When Pheonyx told Daryl that he didn’t make promises often, that wasn’t a lie. He tried to avoid them. Because promises often led to disappointment. And as someone who endured a lot of that disappointment growing up, he couldn’t handle the thought of inadvertently giving that feeling to someone else. Despite that, he had made more promises in the last two days than he had in his 28 years of life.

The two of them talked for a little while longer. Carl spoke of his school and how he used to play soccer. Pheonyx told him about his siblings and his work at a tattoo shop. The conversation was normal, all things considered. Kismet had left at some point to beg for dinner from Maggie or Beth. Eventually, the boy’s eyes began to droop, and the sun outside had almost completely disappeared. Pheonyx gave the boy another fist bump and promised to come see him again after searching for Sophia the next day.

He was lost in his thoughts as he turned from the doorway towards the front door. So lost that he ran directly into a wall of muscle and his body immediately tensed when a large hand gripped his bicep tightly, cutting off the supply of blood to his fingers. His heart began to race and he looked into the angry brown eyes of Shane. The man’s eyes were narrowed and his body language was threatening.

“The hell were you doing in there?”, he growled.

Despite the fear flooding his body, Pheonyx held his ground, staring dead in the other man’s eyes, and gritted his teeth. “Talking to Carl. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, I do. You stay the hell away from that boy. Filling his head with fucked up ideas. You hear me?”, the grip on Pheonyx’s arm tightened. He could practically feel the blood vessels bursting in his skin. The only blessing was that Shane was gripping the arm that had the realism styled tattoo. With the colors and full distribution of ink across his arm, the inevitable bruise wouldn’t be very noticeable. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the meaning behind Shane’s words. The “ideas” that he didn’t want Pheonyx sharing with the boy. Shane didn’t want Carl to know Pheonyx was trans. The reason being, the idea of being trans was seen as something deviant or impure. And that if a child learned about it, they would be tainted in some way. It was a stupid thought–being transgender wasn’t a disease–but it was something that Pheonyx was familiar with. When he came out, several family members from Hershel’s side lamented his braveness for coming out but asked him “politely” to not speak about it in front of their children. The excuses ranged from “they wouldn’t understand” to “they’ll get the wrong ideas”. They feared that if they learned what being trans was, then they might come out too. Or that they might have to have an honest conversation with their child.

“I hear you. But I’m not going to listen to some neanderthal throwing his weight around like he owns the place. Last time I checked, you’re not Carl’s father. The second Lori or Rick say they don’t want me around their son, I’ll oblige but until then I’ll hang out with Carl anytime he wants,” Pheonyx’s tone was lethal. Despite the shivering in his muscles and the screaming in his mind, he wouldn’t back down.

A welcome voice sounded by the door, “Is there a problem here?”

Shane turned his head to look at the person speaking and Pheonyx used the distraction to jerk his arm from the man’s tight grip. Blood rushed back to his fingers and he resisted the urge to massage the area.

Rick stood a short distance from them, eyes narrowed on his best friend.

“No problem here. Just having a chat.”, Shane smiled, acting as if he didn’t just have Pheonyx cornered.

Pheonyx opted to not rock the boat, knowing it would just cause more problems for the group’s standing on the farm. If Hershel knew that Shane had acted like that with his step son, he wouldn’t hesitate to throw them out.

“No problem at all, Rick. Just having a conversation. Man to Man.”, Pheonyx smirked and placed a condescending hand on the taller man’s shoulder. The sharp look Shane gave him was worth the probable consequences of poking the bear. “I was just heading out. I’ll be in the stables if you need anything.”

Without a backward glance, Pheonyx walked around the Sheriff and left through the squeaky screen door. The fresh air hit his face and the adrenaline that had been running rampant through his body disappeared. A lump built in his throat and he had to stop the tears from running down his face. Shane’s hate was bringing up a lot of memories that Pheonyx thought he’d moved past. But there he was, trying not to see the flickering light in the alley as it created shadows, making the men look taller than they were. Trying not to smell the ripe stench of garbage and body odor. Trying not to hear their vile words whispered in his ear. Trying not to feel their fingers digging into his shoulders and tearing at his clothes. Trying not to remember the taste of blood filling his mouth, mixing with the bile that lingered from their attack.

We’re gonna fix you, sweetheart. Just gotta show you how to be a woman.

The voice floated in his brain like ash after a wildfire. No matter the distance from the flame, it still lingered, staining his thoughts black.

Taglist: @dixonsboy19, @edgyboi10000, @yoongibaybee

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x oc #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon x omc #daryl x omc #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x ftm oc #daryl x ftm oc #daryl dixon x trans!oc #daryl x trans!oc #daryl x male oc #daryl dixon x male oc

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oneatlatime · 9 months

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More season 1 thoughts

I like Katara better in the second half of the season than the first. I found her less annoying. Is that because she has evened out as a character, or is that because there was less of her? I don't know. I'd love to see a quantitative analysis of the number of lines per character per episode. Still, Katara handled the whole Pakku problem with fewer explosions than when she was handling the pirates and the waterbending scroll, and you can argue that the Pakku stuff was much more of a direct attack on her, so I'm going to call her reduced annoyingness growth.

Poor Sokka has been consistently my favourite character since episode one, and that hasn't changed at all. He just got royally stomped on in a way specifically designed to cause as much pain to him personally as possible in the finale, and I'll be interested to see if that causes any long term change. My boy is good at repression, so I doubt there will be obvious change, but this show is good at gradual stealth character growth. I'm looking forward to trying to ferret out the subtle changes to him in season 2.

Aang is lovely. I think he appears to be the least changed of our main cast at first glance, but like Sokka, I expect that getting used/possessed/actively participating in mega fishman destruction in the finale is going to have some effect on him (Still not clear on exactly who possessed whom / who was in control. Don't know if I'll ever know, or if it really matters). Aang is a lovable island of fun in a sea of century old war trauma. When he's not being stupid because he's 12, he's being consistently kind and open hearted, with an unshakable core and sense of self. Congrats to Gyatso on raising such a self-possessed boy. And you know what? He's entitled to stupid 12 year old moments because he is 12.

Poor Yue. Kind of a one note character at first glance, but because she's a mirror of Sokka, she feels just as deep as he does. That's clever writing.

Appa continues to be both team transportation and team dad. I think Sokka is team mom. Katara may be feminine, but it's Sokka who's keeping them fed and going in vaguely the right direction. He's the practical one. While Katara's or Aang's actions often drive the story, it's Sokka who's on clean up duty to make sure that the impulsive and bighearted decisions made by his sister and adopted brother blow up in their faces as little as possible.

I am convinced that Momo has no awareness of the main quest. I think Appa knows that his human and his human's friends are trying to save the world. I think Momo knows that these humans and their big furry thing feed him and keep him warm while going to lots of different places.

I loved that the season finale couldn't be predicted. The end game that the show set up was a showdown with the firelord. I expected that the firelord would make his first appearance in the season finale. Instead, we get a conflict I didn't see coming in a location I had honestly forgotten we were going to. Even if you had watched episodes 1 through 17, could you predict the conflict and location of the finale beyond something something fire nation? I like that I couldn't predict it. Too often shows spend so much time building up to the season showdown that it's almost anti-climactic because you've pretty much guessed the shape that the conflict will take. Not this show.

I think my favourite episode of the second half of this season is Bato of the Water Tribe. I loved having a glimpse into non-war water tribe life. It gives us a look at what it is that the people fighting the fire nation are fighting to preserve/get back. It also gives us a rough outline of the kind of person Sokka and Katara's dad is, which surprisingly adds a lot to Sokka's characterisation. And I love an episode where Sokka gets the A plot. The fight scene was really entertaining to watch, although I do feel sorry for June's big beast.

I think the best (as in the most skillfully executed) episode in the second half of the season is probably The Blue Spirit. It's a character episode disguised as an action episode, and not to get too much into fanfic speculative territory, but I feel like it lays groundwork for a couple of possible paths for the characters that certainly weren't available to them before. Also I love the melancholy note it ends on. I don't like unhappy endings as a rule, but I make an exception for contemplative endings, like the Southern Air Temple, the Summer Solstice Part 2, and the Blue Spirit.

I find I prefer the 'problem of the week' type episodes more than the episodes that serve the larger plot, because honestly I just want to hang out with these guys. High stakes adventures are both important and necessary, but it's also cool to have a problem presented and solved in 23 minutes. I feel like the characters act more like people and less like servants of the plot when they're in 'monster of the week' type episodes.

There were fewer eye-poppingly beautiful episodes in the second half of the season, although the Deserter's forest and fireworks festival was nice. The finale was downright bland, but you can't have lush multicoloured foliage at the north pole. I am so thankful that the show doesn't go for that stupid grimdark aesthetic that movies are still struggling with.

Finally, a word on the blasphemous live action that definitely doesn't exist:

Some of the greatest parts of this show are the gorgeously colourful eyepopping backgrounds, the very well thought out combination of bending and cartoon physics, and Sokka's stupid faces. You know what a live action can't do? Any of those things. So really, why did they even try? I can't think of a show, a world, a story, that is more suited to the artistic liberties and conventions of animation.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #atla season 1 #avatar the last airbender

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wastelandmoony · 1 year

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Déjà Vécu: Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Hunky Dory

Characters: Remus Lupin/Reader, Sirius Black/Reader (no use of y/n), James Potter, Petter Pettigrew, Lily Evans, Mary MacDonald

Summary: Someone is catching on to Remus' furry little problem.

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+ only!, angst, anxiety/overwhelming feelings, language, mentions of death and self harm.

Read on AO3

Companion Playlist

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She didn’t speak to Remus for the rest of the evening, in fact, she avoided the boys altogether. During the Halloween Feast, she sat with her fellow Hufflepuffs making polite conversation and trying to enjoy the festivities. The Great Hall had been completely transformed for the occasion. Instead of the usual floating candles, there now hovered glowing jack-o-lanterns, casting an amber hue over the tables below; the sky above transfigured into a stormy night, including sporadic flashes of lighting and scattering bats that swooped low over the tables, scaring a few of the newer students.

She overheard a 5th year talking about the party that was going to be held in the Hufflepuff common room tonight, and she made a mental plan to try and sneak out somewhere quiet without being noticed. Across the hall, she could see her friends at the Gryffindor table laughing and joking around, all except for Remus, that is. He sat beside Sirius, stone faced and staring at his plate of food, of which he was pushing around aimlessly with a fork. She thought back to what he said earlier: people like us. He had stared right at her as he said it. Like us? What could he have meant by “us”? Remus wasn’t a muggleborn, his father’s a wizard, though he did talk about muggle things often thanks not only to his mum, but by hanging out with her and Lily; none of which she could justify labeling as “unacceptable and subhuman”.

A loud clap of charmed thunder echoed through the hall, signaling that dinner was over and dessert would be appearing shortly. She took this as an opportunity to sneak out and head back to her dormitory, eager to get a head start on trying to find a hiding spot to avoid the noise of tonight’s party.

She quickly slipped out of the large doors, padding down the corridors as silently as possible. Inside her dorm, she grabbed a few things including her sketchbook and a pencil, throwing them into her bag before heading out. Students were starting to fill the hallways, milling about and discussing their plans for tonight. As she turned a corner to the main floor, someone collided directly into her person.

“Oh! Sorry,” she steadied herself to find Peter staring back at her.

“Where’re you headed? I didn’t see you in the Great Hall…” he sounded a little sad.

She began to continue walking, Peter following beside as they wound their way up the stairs.

“I was there for a bit, over at my table, but I left a little early.”

“Are you coming to the party tonight in our tower?” Pete asked hopefully, pausing on one of the staircases as it shifted, moving across and coming to a rest at a separate entranceway.

She shook her head, slightly annoyed that now she would have to find another way up to the astronomy tower, “No, sorry. I just…don’t feel like partying tonight, I guess.”

Pete groaned, “That means it’ll just be me, James, and Sirius, and you know how they get,”

She smiled, knowing full well the weird line between friendship and romance those two seemed to teeter on, “…what about Remus?”

He shook his head, “He isn’t really speaking to any of us. I asked him earlier about it and he just ignored me. He gets like this sometimes so I’m not—“

“—what do you mean ‘he gets like this’?” She stopped abruptly in an empty corridor, spinning on her heel to face him.

“He just…gets weird? It happened last month too, he just gets angry and moody for a stretch and we all give him space. He’ll be over it eventually,” Peter shrugged.

The gears in her head started turning, and she very much desired to go to the library. She checked her watch, it would be closing in a half hour so there was no point in making the trip now. Maybe tomorrow…

“I’m gonna post up somewhere and do some reading, Pete. Can you do me a favor?” She smiled sweetly at him as he nodded.

“Can you keep an eye on Remus? Just…make sure he’s okay?”

Peter inclined his head again in confirmation, wishing her a good night before heading back down to Gryffindor Tower.

The Astronomy Tower wasn’t too far now, just up another winding staircase. As she carefully maneuvered each stone step in the dark, Remus continued to float through her mind. His chosen phrases of “people like us”, “subhuman and unworthy” echoing on a loop through her conscious.

She wasn’t sure what exactly, but he was hiding something.

The tower was dark, except for the strips of moonlight illuminating the open circular floor. She sat by one of the open archways, dumping her bag and pulling out the sketchbook. Looking out over the Black Lake, she was in awe of how beautiful the landscape was. The Forbidden Forrest was pitch dark, the rusting of trees heard faintly through the night accompanied by the occasional coo of a passing owl. The almost full moon glistened against the choppy water, creating thousands of shimmering diamonds atop the lake. It had been three months since she found out this world existed, weeks since she started attending Hogwarts, and it all still did not seem real.

She started to sketch, trying to capture any ounce of the beauty on paper. So engrossed in her work, she didn’t hear the footsteps ascending the stairs; not until they were right beside her.

“Jesus—Remus!” She exhaled a sharp breath, clutching her chest in fear.

He smiled slightly, taking a seat against a stone pillar across from her and staring out at the view, “Sorry, I thought you heard me, I wasn’t exactly trying to be quiet.”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” she went back to drawing, “…what’re you doing up here anyway.”

“Looking for you,” he met her eyes as she looked up from the paper, “Pete told me you were up here…”

She hummed in acknowledgement, going back to her sketch.

“I brought you something,” he raised his eyebrows.

“What is it,” she didn’t look at him, still hurt from his outburst earlier and his subsequent avoidance.

“…an apology,” he placed a bottle in front of her, and she furrowed her brows.

“It’s butterbeer,” he chuckled, “I knew you probably haven’t tried it, so I wanted to be the first to introduce you.”

She reached out and took the cold bottle in her hand, watching as he opened the cap for her. It smelled like butterscotch, and though hesitant at first, she took a sip to find that it tasted almost like cream soda, only a million times better.

“This is…amazing! Where did you get this?”

Remus laughed, “I stole one from the common room before I left, no one seemed to notice.”

She held the bottle out to him, and he gladly took a swig.

“I’m sorry for how I acted earlier, I was a right git to you—“

“—and to James, and Sirius, and Peter—“

He glared over the bottle at her, “—Yes, I know. I’ll make amends with them later, but right now I’m trying to apologize to my best friend.”

The phrase took her aback, startled at the vocalization of something she had been feeling since they met on the train. Remus Lupin was her best friend, only she had been too terrified to ever admit it out loud.

She slid over beside him, leaning against the stone and squirming into his side, “You’re forgiven, though I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t physically attack another student ever again, even if they are a slimy, arrogant, wanker.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as they both gazed out over the grounds, “I promise to try my best…”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, finishing off the bottle and listening to the wind blow through the turrets of the ancient castle.

“Rem,” she whispered, her head falling to his shoulder, “…are you alright?”

He hummed in response, something she didn’t want to push at the moment.

“Are you going to Sirius’ birthday party?” She looked up at him, watching as his eyes shut and his head fell back against the stone.

“When is it again?” His voiced sounded strained.

“This Friday…”

Remus nodded after a moment, eyes remaining closed as she shifted against his side. She watched as his mouth twitched into what could only be categorized as a grimace.

———

November 2nd, 1971

“Whoever decided that scheduling double potions on a Tuesday was a good idea, needs to be fired,” she groaned as Peter escorted her to the Great Hall for dinner. The first year Gryffindor’s had a free schedule after a morning Transfiguration class, so the other boys were already waiting. Peter, always the gentleman, offered to meet her after class so she wouldn’t have to walk up alone from the dungeons, a notion she greatly appreciated. The dungeons never ceased to make her feel uneasy, something about the lack of windows, or light in general, made her feel isolated and was borderline suffocating.

They made their way into the hall towards the Gryffindor table, and she saw James’ unruly hair before she set eyes on the rest of them. As they walked up, she noticed an extra spot; Remus was absent again.

“Where’s the other Musketeer?” She pointed at the empty space beside her as she swung a leg over the bench.

James swallowed a gulp of pumpkin juice, “Sick, said something about a headache again?”

Her brows furrowed, “Is he back in the infirmary?”

James nodded sadly, helping himself to another spoonful of potatoes.

It had been exactly a month since he was last in the hospital, she thought back. It was too late to go and see Remus, the infirmary closed just before dinner had begun. She’d have to wait to check on him until the morning. Speaking of tomorrow…

“How does it feel,” she asked Sirius, “eating your last meal as an eleven-year-old?”

He sighed wistfully, running a hand through his hair, “It feels great. I’ll let you know tomorrow what it’s like being a grown-up—“

She threw a bread roll at him, “You’ll only be twelve, you idiot…”

As he picked it up to toss back, James grabbed it from his hands, “Knock it off, both of you. It’s not polite to throw food.”

Both she and Sirius stared at him in shocked confusion.

“Who are you,” she annunciated, “and what have you done with the real James Potter?”

Sirius leaned across the table to whisper, “Look who just sat down—“

She glanced to the left of James, and saw Lily Evans chatting with a few other Gryffindor girls within earshot.

“—he’s been trying to act ‘more mature’ to get on her good side lately. It’s really been putting a damper on things,” Sirius rolled his eyes as James blatantly ignored them. He instead chose to stare longingly at the little redhead, to which she eventually caught on to and promptly turned away. James sighed and continued eating.

The entire exchange was not lost on Sirius, who immediately locked eyes with her across the table, raising his eyebrows in a silent “yikes”.

“So,” she changed the subject, “what’s the plan for your party this weekend?”

———

November 5th, 1971

She’d barely seen Remus the entire week leading up to the party in Gryffindor Tower. The day after he had missed dinner, she went to the hospital wing that morning before class only to find him already gone. Madam Pomfrey said he had been released on orders to rest in his dorm, and since she was already running late to History of Magic, she couldn’t go up to pay him a visit. During their shared Charms class, he sat beside her as usual, but the two had zero chance to talk about anything other than the proper wand motion for a body-binding curse. As they listened to Professor Graves’ lecture, she noticed Remus was breathing a little weird; not full-on wheezing, but inhaling definitely seemed to be a bit of a struggle. When class was dismissed, he quickly muttered something about running to the library before taking off completely, leaving her alone in the emptying classroom.

The night of Sirius’s birthday party couldn’t have come soon enough, and by Friday evening she was practically skipping up to Gryffindor Tower.

“Occultatum,” she announced at the portrait, heart skipping a beat as she was granted passage through.

She could hear the music as she walked through the short tunnel that led to the common room, the smell of the fireplace and over arching sweetness of candy and butterbeer permeating the air. As she emerged from the entranceway, Sirius and James both spotted her immediately, the two of them yelling loudly at her arrival.

“My favorite little bee made it!” Sirius grabbed her into a bear hug, while James thrusted a bottle of butterbeer into her free hand.

“Happy birthday—“ she choked out as he squeezed her, “—you’re going to break your gift, calm down!”

He quickly let go, as she shook out her arms to regain their normal blood flow.

“You brought me a gift?” He seemed shocked at the sentiment, something that gave her pause. He came from a very wealthy and well known family, why would a birthday present be something worthy of surprise?

She handed him the tightly wrapped flat parcels, and he trotted over to the fireplace to open them. Remus was lounging on the sofa looking worn out, his face brightening slightly when he saw her and Sirius sit down around the fireplace. Sirius tore open the brown paper giftwrap to expose the covers of three muggle vinyl records: Black Sabbath’s Paranoid, Led Zeppelin I, and David Bowie’s Hunky Dory. He stared at them for a moment, registering exactly what they were, and still coming up a little short.

“…They’re muggle albums. It’s music,” she said slowly, worried that she had committed some sort of major wizard faux-pas. Sirius looked up, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

“These are…” he shook his head, “…this is perfect. Thank you, I just…don’t know how to play them?”

A girl she remembered as Mary chimed in from a windowsill behind the couch, “We have a record player in our room, Lils brought it from home. Want us to bring it down?”

Sirius nodded vehemently, as Mary’s curly head bounced up the stairs.

When she reemerged, James swiftly took the record player from her arms, setting it down on a table near the window.

Lily came over to show everyone how it worked, “It’s charmed so that it doesn’t require electricity, so you don’t have to plug it in or anything,” she looked directly at her and Remus, knowing that they were the only two in the general vicinity that even knew what that meant. She turned to Sirius, “Pick one,” motioning towards the three albums.

“I uh—I like the colors on this one, plus it’s like it was made for me,” he pointed to the Black Sabbath logo on the front, making her smirk.

“Good choice,” she murmured, “this is one of my dad’s favorites. He was very excited when I asked him to send it to me.”

He stared back at her, eyes widening, “You had your father owl-post these?”

She nodded like it was no big deal, and he watched with silent gratitude as she placed the vinyl onto the turntable and pulled the needle over.

Generals gathered in their masses

Just like witches at black masses

Evil minds that plot destruction

Sorcerers of death’s construction

It’s one thing to experience love in the first person, but to witness someone else fall in love is something else entirely. Watching Sirius Black fall in love with muggle rock n’ roll was something she wanted to remember for the rest of her life.

The moment he heard Ozzy Osbourne’s vocals, his eyes closed, and she watched as he was transported. He listened intently as the verse progressed, eventually opening his eyes and settling them directly on her. His gaze said every thank you that needed to be expressed.

The rest of the night was filled with violent games of Exploding Snap, accompanied by the background sounds of Sirius’ new records. On the second go-around of Hunky Dory, she got up from the floor in front of the couch and looked for Remus. He was nowhere to be found in the common room.

She asked around, finally finding out from James that he had apparently been seen walking up to their dorm, complaining of a headache again. Seeing as how the other three boys were within sight, she knew he was alone and decided to see if everything was alright.

Following the direction James had pointed in, she found their dorm up a set of spiral stone steps. Knocking first, she slowly opened the door when an answer wasn’t received.

“Hey…” she whispered as she spotted him lying in bed, arm over his eyes.

He hummed in response, moving his arm to look at her. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and she didn’t know if it was from the late night or something else entirely.

“…You okay?” She sat down next to him, brushing a stray hair from his face.

“You ask me that a lot,” he closed his eyes again.

“Stop worrying me, and I won’t have to.”

The noise he made bordered on a growl, “I’m sorry…”

“Remus, please…talk to me, I know something is going on…” she pleaded.

“I—I can’t…I’m sorry…” his voice was filled with restraint, his eyes stayed closed to avoid looking at her disappointed face.

“I can’t make you talk to me…but is there anything I can do to help you?” She was almost begging for him to give any tiny shred of insight into his world at this point.

“Would you…will you stay with me?” He whispered, sounding much younger than he was.

She nodded, no questions asked, curling up beside him as he buried his face in the covers.

———

As she opened her eyes, the realization set in that she couldn’t move her legs. Looking down at the end of the bed, Sirius was passed out sideways across her and Remus’s lower halves, clutching one of his vinyls. Beside her, Remus faced the far wall, but she could tell by his breathing that he was still sound asleep. As gently as possible, she pried her legs free from under Sirius’ body, slipping out of the dorm and down the staircase. The common room was quiet, save for the soft snores coming from a sleeping James on the couch, a few other older Gryffindor’s were strewn about the place as well. The only other person awake was Peter, sitting on the floor near the fireplace playing wizard chess against himself. She walked over and leaned over the back of the couch carefully as to not wake James.

“Hey,” she whispered, making Pete jump slightly.

“Wanna go to the library with me? I need your medical expertise,” she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

He smiled, “I’d use that term loosely…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, you know more about healing that any of us,” she frowned.

He put on a serious face, considering her offer, “Can we get breakfast first?”

———

Clutching three heavy tomes against her chest, she reached up for a fourth in the Magical Maladies section of the library. Behind her, Pete was bored and skimming over the titles on an adjacent shelf.

“What’s this for again?” He whined.

“I told you, I have an essay due about healing werewolf bites that I still haven’t started,” It wasn’t entirely a lie, she did have an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but it was already completed and turned in. She had breezed through it earlier in the week, not realizing the clues were right under her nose the entire time.

Pete took some of the books out of her arms, leading them over to a secluded table. She pulled out a notebook and quill and began searching through the closest text for a chapter mentioning lycanthropy, “Pete, tell me everything you know about werewolves.”

Turns out, Peter knew a lot more about werewolves than he let on. His mother, being a healer for many years, had seen the worst of it, including numerous werewolf attacks. He didn’t know much about the semantics, but he explained the symptoms of lycanthropy and how one wouldn’t normally come across a werewolf in everyday life, so they weren’t really studied often.

“—but how would you even know? They’re regular people up until the full moon,” she whispered.

“I suppose you wouldn’t,” he thought, “but all I know is that a lot of them take themselves out of the public eye…one way or another.”

Her stomach dropped, “…what do you mean?”

Peter swallowed, “I’ve heard some of them, after they’ve been attacked. Mum’s healed a few at home. I’ll never forget their cries…they beg to be taken out…they’d rather die than live with it.”

The room started to warp.

She wanted to cry, or scream, or both.

More importantly, she wanted to hug Remus and never let go.

———

She didn’t clue Peter in on her actual motives, nor did he seem to wise up to them on his own. They parted after the library, and she headed back to her dorm while Pete met the others for lunch. As much as she wanted to see her friends, she needed to collect her thoughts before she came face-to-face with Remus again.

Reading the notes from earlier, she sat cross legged on her bed with the curtains drawn. Everything was making sense now; the monthly disappearances, the outbursts before an “unexplained illness”, the scars she had seen on his neck and hands that day on the train. From what she had read, lycanthropy was highly stigmatized and people inflicted with the ailment were usually shunned from society. No one could catch on to what she knew, it would have detrimental effects to the one person she cared about more than anything.

No one could find out that her best friend was a werewolf.

#marauders era #the marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fanfiction #Remus Lupin fic #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black x reader #sirius black angst #james potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic rec #harry potter fanfiction #marauders fic rec

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realmyths · 1 month

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@obscurushydrae continued from here Kar stared at Farryn's pleading face with tired expression borne of sixteen hour workday. She closed her eyes and took a breath. Kar's home was a known sanctuary, even when all she wanted was pass out in bed. "Aight, let's get 'im in..." she beckoned both of them into the foyer of the townhouse. It was a liminal hub, as sort of politically neutral ground. One of the few mortal items her mother possessed and she inherited it. Cosimo dozed on the couch in the sitting room, the empusa preferred to stay in his borzoi form. Unfazed at the action in the foyer. "Whaddya want? Tea? Coffee?" she asked, leading towards the kitchen.

Farryn looks at the other person with their best puppy dog eyes. And indeed, it's not hard. All they have to do is copy their current companion, a rather small dog who had followed them when they had left work. They hadn't known if bringing him home was the best option, and so here they are. At Kar's door.

When she lets them in, Farryn smiles and claps their hands together in excitement. "Thanks so much! I owe you one." They say to Kar. To the dog, they say "Come on! In!"

And the puppy heads into the townhouse, closely followed by Farryn themself. "Tea would be nice!" They respond to Kar's question. "Ooh, or soda. Do you have fruit punch?" Farryn isn't sure exactly what beverage they'd like. But of course, their main focus is getting their furry friend squared away. "This little guy followed me out of work today. I don't think he has an owner. No collar or leash or anything. And I don't know if I could take him home." Farryn has many talents, but taking care of a puppy is not one of them. They can't even keep a plant alive. Much less a puppy. So ideally, they'd find him another home.

"I want to help him find a home, but I don't know how to go about it. Any ideas?" Farryn is up for anything. And they're sorry to bother Kar so late, but had not been sure where else to go. Hope or Esme couldn't take on a dog, being busy with their callings as they are. And the same is true of Farryn themself. So they wouldn't want their relatives to get attached to the animal and then not be able to keep him. Hopefully, that wouldn't be the case here. "Sorry to barge in like this, by the way. But this was the first place I thought of, and you're on my way home so....sorry!"

#obscurushydrae #convo #spreading adventure everywhere (farryn v1.)#chaotic but would not have it any other way; i always yearn for adventure (c: adventure farryn scott.)#made myself mythical; tried to be real (ic.)#pronouns: they #[hope this reply is okay!]#[let me know if not :)]

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lastweeksshirttonight · 1 year

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April is here and so is more looking back at the past ten seasons of Last Week Tonight. Wooo!

I'm going to aim to have Last Lee Tonight posted every week on Thursdays. Work is always a wrench in my plans but I'm pretty sure I can keep up that pace. They'll let me leave at some point right? hahaha help.

Now that the admin notes are out of the way, let's get cracking.

Last Lee Tonight (wherein John waited three episodes to dump music knowledge on us and honestly I'm impressed he waited that long) Season One, Episode Three

(original air date: 5/11/2014) Major topics covered: global warming; campaign finance and 2014 Senate political ads; Russia/Ukraine tensions

"History was made this week. ...Technically, history is made every week, that's kind of how history works."

We are still in that unique transitory period where John's team has figured out that longform segments are probably the way to go... but aren't really sure how to best utilize the rest of their show's time. The first two episodes were marked contrasts to each other structurally and were easier to compare. This third episode is all over the place, rushing through the first small segment on football, before covering a wide array of information and sources on Russian actions in around 8 minutes, which then gets us to our first main segment about ten minutes in. You can tell that the writers are still really trying to work out how to best structure their strange new show.

We start the episode talking about the first openly gay player in the NFL, Michael Sam, something I swear happened both earlier than and later than 2014. I fucking love that ESPN completely ignored the player in question's sexuality and just talked stats and genericisms. SPORTS!

We don't spend long there, as we move straight into discussing the present Ukranian/Russian tensions, first through the lens of Eurovision. I am truly shocked that John hasn't covered Eurovision every damn year, because it's the kind of overly theatrical camp nonsense he adores. We get a very Daily Show-esque bit where John grabs a paper way on the other side of his desk to quote Russia's entry, and it makes me sad that the audience barely registers it as a joke.

Also shit Conchita Wurst won Eurovision nearly ten years ago. I feel so fucking old.

Russia also recently annexed Crimea at the time, and John briefly covers the struggles Putin will have with the annexation. Putin is busy minting a two-pound commemorative coin over his 'victory', so we get a fake commercial for the "Worthless Desolate Landmass Commemorative Coin". This feels very much like a Bugle bit, complete with the satirical underpinning of acknowledging that Russia will actively make Crimeans' lives worse. And obviously Putin shirtless on a horse.

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(I know that continually mentioning other things John has done that line up with these LWT bits probably seems a bit harsh or uncharitable, but LWT was clearly still trying to find a voice that wasn't cribbed from the two productions John was most associated with - to say nothing of the gigantic shadow The Colbert Report cast over every talking-head show in its wake. There's a lot of what I'd consider essential LWT that's been completely missing from these early episodes, from the common running gags of being a furry and shitting on his appearance, to a more unhinged level of social disruption and trolling, to even some of his linguistic choices - and that honestly makes sense. John has said multiple times that no one on the show had any idea what they were doing at this point, so why not pull from things that worked before?)

The first major story starts 10 minutes in, and regards campaign finance. The FEC has allowed bitcoin contributions to campaigns and jesus christ kill me now

Sorry. Campaign finance just innately pisses me off, and John gets me by basically saying "what else is left" while listing off all the campaign finance fuckery of the past few years at that time. I wish 2023 Me and 2023 John did not have to see what else was left.

John's joke about cribbing band names from the Kentucky Derby is gold. Tag yourself I'm California Chrome.

We get our first delightfully off impression of the series from John in this section - it's the rich evil Southern gentleman voice, in the form of Mitch McConnell threatening to kill people with a shovel over his love of coal. No amount of context will help me explain that better.

John also confirms that Mitch McConnell is not a homegrown Kentucky girl like his then-competitor, Alison Lundergan Grimes, by noting that "Politifact rates that true". I laughed so hard at that I had to pause. Please bring that gag back.

The Kentucky piece is overall worth watching, as it hits how campaign finance has influenced political advertising in ways directly detrimental to statewide and nationwide issues of import. The only part of this on YouTube is the capper, where John makes the most over-the-top and morally repugnant ads he can possibly think of. Trigger warning for gory violence including disembowelment, implied animal cruelty, and old man and middle-aged nudity. (Required note from this blog: it is not John Oliver nude. Fucking weirdoes, the lot of you [/j]) Link is here bc the video is, quite reasonably, age-restricted.

We now move to our very first "How Is This Still A Thing?", with the subject "Dressing Up as Other Races". Honestly no notes here, this segment came out the gate strong and basically in the same format it retains in the current day. (Seriously stop using other cultures as a costume.)

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Finally, with five minutes left, we get to the segment Wikipedia thinks is the main one, on climate change. (The pacing of LWT Season One is a rollercoaster.) Global warming in 2014 threatens everything, yet 1 in 4 Americans think it doesn't exist. I would like to travel through time to scream at them and John thinks even talking about that kind of stat is fucking pointless. Bill Nye is brought on to have a statistically representative debate on the topic, which involves a random fuckload of people being on stage at once. I love the chaos but this is a very slim bit.

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This was the weirdest episode to watch so far, I think. They took the lessons of the last episode and did attempt to apply them, but we aren't quite at the sweet spot of LWT pacing and structure yet. We'll get there eventually, I'm sure.

Random notes:

Lee obviously focuses on important things corner: After the absolute banger that was "red check pattern" last week, we return to neutral blue shirt and bubble-patterned navy tie. The unique tie elevates this to a 8/10 look, but one thing I cannot wait to get to is his "bold outfit choice" era of shit like silver suit and blue check shirt.

John describing bitcoin as something only "heroin dealers and assassins" use makes me yearn for the innocent time of 2014, when people were not trying to sell me every goddamn coin and ape doodle and metaverse on earth.

The YouTube team for this episode truly had no idea what to clip for this one. Their main segment doesn't have an authorized clip, and I don't know why they decided to take a 5 minute segment and make two clips out of it, an abbreviated version and a full version.

Speaking of weird shit on the LWT YouTube, have this 45 second bit of HBO selling the fuck out of their new show and John being obviously uncomfortable with it. However, in this clip he is, and I say this with a minimal amount of bias, hot as fuck. ("I'm no one's idea of a photogenic human being" SHUT UP MATE MY GOD)

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I found this ad on their YouTube as well, which was very fun. Back when we expected some actual timely news discussion on LWT!

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#john oliver #last week tonight #last week tonight with john oliver #last lee tonight #bangs appreciation hours #truly that buzz clip is so fucking odd #Youtube

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sickiehugs · 1 year

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Note 3/12/24: I will continue to be on a partial hiatus for the time being, as I'm running into some serious problems with my health. I've been diagnosed with two chronic illnesses and it's affecting my ability to write things and post regularly. Thank you all for being patient.

Inbox status:

General asks: Open!

Requests: Open for headcanons!

Hi, call me Aria! This is a sideblog for sickfic content. My main blog is @sourcoated, though I'm mostly active over here.

All of my info + tags masterlist below the cut!

Last updated April 14th, 2024

Info:

They/It pronouns

I'm not writing for a kink, but I'm fine with kink blogs interacting, as long as you don't talk about any of my posts in a sexualized way.

Be careful looking at my posts if you don't like things such as vomit.

What I won't write:

Explicit kink stuff

Whumper content

Weird or unhealthy ships (To my discretion. I have a right to decline.)

Minor x Adult

Your OCs

Hurt/No comfort

Uncommon mental illness (I'm afraid of misrepresenting it. If I'm not educated on the illness I have a right to decline for safety.)

Furry stuff (I'm just not a furry, sorry.)

Character death

Dehumanization

Abuse (Mentions of abuse when talking about it to a partner is okay, what I mean is that I will not write anything that includes abusing a character.)

Terminal illness

Too much angst

Rashes/Skin conditions

Fandoms (List is growing):

Danganronpa

My Hero Academia (No manga spoilers, please!)

Ace Attorney (I've only played the OG trilogy so far but I've seen enough fanon of characters I haven't met yet to know what they're like. Still, please don't spoil past the OG trilogy!)

Bungou Stray Dogs (No manga spoilers pls!)

(more coming soon...)

Tags masterlist (Where you'll find stuff):

Writing & drabbles: #writiehugs

Prompts & random ideas: #promptiehugs

Reblogs (posts I recommend): #rebloggiehugs

Fic reblogs (fics I recommend): #faviehugs

Personal/Unrelated posts: #rambliehugs

Requests & asks: #answeriehugs

Hopping on trends & bandwagons: #trendiehugs

#sickfic #sickfics #sick fic #sick fanfiction #fever whump #whump #whumpblr #sick fanfic #whump community #sickie #sickfic prompts #sickfic tropes #sicknario #sickfic community #sickfic fluff #whump fluff #fluff whump #fluff sickfic #hurt/comfort

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spideyfan42 · 1 year

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Why X-Men Apocalypse and I Are Just Acquaintances - Or More Accurately, Why Beast in the Movies Was Just Ok

(I'm sorry Nicholas Hoult, you're an incredible actor)

Now despite my URL being very pro-Spider-Man (That's a lot of hyphens), I got to say I love the X-Men. This is most likely due to them not only paving the way for superhero movies and also back in the olden days of 92' and 97 respectively, animation. I also found a kinship with these groovy dudes who were persecuted for being different. While no robots have tried to kill me for being autistic, i do get feeling like an outsider.

As a big comic fan since 2012, I've been picking up the odd X-Men here and there, but religiously watching the movies, so much so that old St Nick, The Kristopher of Kringle himself got me the Rouge Cut version of DoFP, my first real "directors cut" (?) of a film. Given how that reset the timeline I was so excited to see what would happen next. However, one little weird issue I had was Beast. Now for those in the know Henry "Hank" McCoy was a founding member of the merry mutant band, one of the OG 5 students, and in the films, he is also one of the original team members as well. Also mirroring his comic counterpart, he decides to perform some Oingo Boingo style Weird Science on himself, turning him from a guy whose power was :

"Man I have big hand and feet!"

To a man whose power was:

"Damn now I'm a blue fuzzy dude."

It's a change that whilst initially beginning as more lycanthropic in nature, eventually settled as permanent, supplanted by not one, but two future mutations to enhance his already furry physique.

Now why am I dropping 60ish years of Beast lore on you when I'm supposed to be describing my quote-on-quote "dislike" of X-Men Vs Poe Dameron/Moon Knight? It all stems from one thing.

Beast isn't blue. Or even grey.

Hell, he's barely fuzzy. One of the main joys of the X-Men is that in a school such as Xavier's School for Gifted Children is that everyone is welcome. Guy made of rocks? Come on in. Literal fairy lady? There are at least two. Guy whose mutant power is LIKE JUST HAVING MORE EYES? WHY HE'S STUDENT PRESIDENT, PROBABLY. These mutants, regardless of their mutation are welcomed and treated fairly by the staff, with some of the staff even in the same boat as them.

Now there are two reasons for said "De-Beast-ening"

Mr Hoult didn't want to be caked in prosthetic make-up, just to look like a superhero Cat in the Hat. Whilst I can empathise, you signed onto play Beast. The one guy who is just blue. ALL THE TIME.

In DoFP, Beast makes a mutant suppressive drug. For Charles, it turns off his telepathy and I guess also miraculously heals a spinal injury (Even though I suppose a drug that amplified his telekinesis at the cost of his telepathy would make more sense but I guess magic serums can do anything), but for Dr Bones here it means he turns blue when he's a wee bit agitated. That's just the Hulk. Smart guy turns into a monster when stressed? Hulk. Plus it's a stand-in for drug abuse in DoFP after the students get drafted and Charles can hear their pain through his use of Cerebro, so his continued use well into the 90s seems...questionable.

The main issue that Beast as a character is one who consistently is a mentor to students with outward mutations they can't control. It's a story of embracing consequence and change that the films stepped on to just have more actor screen time. And whilst I know films and comics are different mediums that can tackle different stories, the lackluster use of a role model for positive body images does show that the Fox Films missed that its the human part of superhuman we all prefer. Even just one scene where Kurt "Nightcrawler" Wagner could say Beast inspires him, being so open with is mutation.

Here's hoping the House of (M)ouse doesn't make the same mistakes!

#x men days of future past #x men apocalypse #x men beast #x men movies #marvel #hot take #sorry for the rant #off my chest #nicholas hoult

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autumnalwalker · 1 year

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Seven Snippets Seven People

Thank you for the tag, @imbrisvastatio.

Passing the tag to @oh-no-another-idea, @ceph-the-ghost-writer, @blind-the-winds, @cljordan-imperium, @emberlyric, @moonandris, @faeveries, and the usual open tag for anyone else who wishes to participate.

Going to make this into a bit of a character highlight reel for Eris from Empty Names. Sorry for some of these snippets running a bit long.

Except for Snippet 2 being from a side story that takes place a couple years before the main plot, these are otherwise in chronological order.

1. Initial appearance and JoJo posing to psych herself up for a hunt.

After making her way over to the boathouse she pauses in front of the smudged glass door and indulges a passing whimsy to strike a pose in the pool of yellow light beneath a flickering incandescent lamp. She likes to think she cuts an intimidating figure, standing taller than most men, muscles gained from a decade of vigorous training and demanding work bulging against the tracksuit as she flexes, and eagerly grinning teeth catching the light just so. Yes, dramatically posing like this is definitely cool and intimidating, and not silly in the slightest.

2. Dealing with a first-time werewolf, from the werewolf's POV.

Hand on the chainlinks, furry and clawed. Is that really her hand? Who else’s could it be? Feels wrong. What does right even look like? Stop looking. Just climb. Pull to climb. Pulling rips the metal away. Breaks the links. Snaps and pops hurt her ears. Too loud. Everything is too loud. So strong. Monstrously strong. She’s a monster. She’s a monster. She’s -

“Sarah…”

Is that her name? Is that her?

Turn around. Someone right behind her. Looks familiar. Looks too small.

“I know yer freaking out right now, but I’m going to need ya to get away from the fence. Can’t have you getting lost out there.”

Solid presence. An anchor. Remember to breathe. A hand extended. Reach out to take it.

“That’s right. Now let’s get you back to the others.”

Lips part underneath those anchoring eyes. Teeth shown. Barred. A smile threat! Danger! Swipe at the hand. Leap back. Growl deep. She can be dangerous too. Go away! Get away!

“Dammit…”

Teeth disappear. Come back more numerous. Lips stretched back and curved up. Eyes are eager now. Hungry. No longer an anchor.

“Screw it. The fun way it is then. You two go see what’s taking Gita so long.”

Hunker down. Ears back. Growl continues. What’s coming?

Blur of motion toward the torn fence. Hand waving in front of her face. Liquid dripping from a finger and smeared over the palm.

That smell! Enough to make her sick. Enough to make her slaver.

“That’s right. Go ahead and let go. Run wild and get it out of your system.”

Barred neck. Unprotected belly. Vulnerable. Tempting. The hand liquid smears across the face with those eyes.

“What are you waiting for?! Come get me!”

Howl. Lunge. Chase. Across the grass. Over the gullies. Pant. Run. Revel.

Close. Jump. Catch!

Catch?

Caught.

Redirected. Thrown to the ground. Land on back. Barely feel it. Stars are so beautiful tonight. Has she ever seen so many? And the moon! She could stare at it forever.

Movement nearby. That’s right. Hunting. Roll over back to her feet. Resume the chase.

Mouth noises from the other one. Words? Those meant something once, didn’t they? Laughter now. She still knows that.

3. Giving Lacuna a pep talk.

“Do it. Stop underestimating yourself and go out and take what you want and don’t look back. Whatever comes of it is going to be better than spending your life looking back and asking ‘what if?’ That’s how I do things and just look and how I turned out.” Eris flings her arms wide for emphasis. When Lacuna looks up, she flexes and pulls an exaggerated grin. Lacuna smiles faintly in return.

“Heh. Fine. I’ll believe in the you that believes in me.”

Eris laughs. “That’s right you absolute nerd. Show me that fighting spirit.”

“Oh, I’m the nerd, am I? Says the woman who replied to the reference with a reference.”

“You started it. Besides, you’re the one who made me watch that show in the first place.”

“Made you? We watched the first two episodes together and then you called me up the next day telling me how you’d binged the whole thing after I left.”

“Fun times.” Eris shrugs. “Oh hey, the waiter’s coming back. You want me to ask for the check?”

4. Sullivan's initial assessment of her.

The musclehead’s first on the list. Eris. First Backstage encounter at seventeen, dropped out of the local community college, got a job as a long-haul trucker - plenty of liminal spaces for spooks to slip through in that line of work - shortly thereafter, and has been making waves in the monster hunter community ever since. After two years of that she found Crossherd and for some reason got herself a day job with the city’s sanitation department. An odd choice to have a day job at all for a hunter, but then again Sullivan’s seen enough sewer monsters and bodies left in dumpsters to figure there’s probably more overlap between the two professions than anyone wants to admit.

Only limited contact with her family or anyone else on set, so cleanup should be easy if she bites the dust.

Sullivan starts flicking through an archive of gathered images. High school yearbook, crime scene footage, commercial driver’s license, group photos pulled from other hunters’ social media accounts, security camera stills, Dog Park volunteer outreach materials, medical records, discreet surveillance from paid informants. His friend wasn’t kidding about the autogenesis; that’s not a physique anyone’s pulling off without either magic or a damn-near lethal amount of drugs, and if the collateral damage to buildings and vehicles from some of these aftermath shots of hunts are anything to go by, she’s even stronger than she looks. Sullivan chuckles to himself. It looks like she’s living up to her moniker with the messes she leaves behind. On the other hand, he’s yet to be able to turn up anyone with a bad word to say about her, so hopefully his friend’s right in their own assessment of her.

Still though, he can’t help but wonder if that body is a manifestation of pride or self-loathing. The last thing they need is her getting pushed over the edge by something and going full monster. That almost never happens, but it’s always ugly when it does.

All in all, the kind of person Sullivan would expect to reply to his invitation for purchase requests with a gym’s worth of exercise equipment and a small armory’s worth of weapons. Oh, and what’s this? A follow-up email adding an armored van to the list. Why not? She did bring him that fascinating and delicious-looking specimen the other day.

Sullivan makes a note to call his car guy later, mentally files away Eris as “dumb, friendly, expendable wrecking ball and meat shield” and then switches over to the techie’s profile.

5. Getting ready to solve a problem by punching it.

Eris blinks and shakes her head. “That’s too long. If this thing’s springing leaks we’re on the clock now.” She cracks her knuckles and strides down to the center of the rows of chrysalises. Unzipping a pocket on her cargo shorts, she retrieves and slides on a pair of fingerless black gloves. Glyphs etched in silver threads catch the light from the conjured mote floating above the nearby wizard.

“What are you doing?” Ashan asks.

“Opening this the fast way,” Eris says while staring at her hands and tracing the glyphs on the left glove with one finger. Back of the hand then the palm. “Get back.”

“But this ward is only partially undone. Unstable as it is -”

“It will make what I’m about to do that much easier.” The corner of her mouth twitches up in anticipation while she traces the right glove’s glyphs. “So thanks for that, but get back. There might be some backlash.”

Eris claps her hands together and twin jolts run through her palms and up her arms to meet at the base of her neck. She throws her head back involuntarily at the shock and bares her teeth in an expression closer to grin than grimace than it should be. The initial sensation fades as she lowers her gaze to look at the shelf in front of her but her hands are tingling now and will be until she takes off the gloves.

6. A moment of vulnerability.

Eris breathes in, sharp and strained. An elongated gasp attempting to be something else. She barely sounds calmer after letting it out.

“Until today. Truth is, I’d been on edge ever since Road mentioned a shipwreck in the briefing. I tried to convince myself I wasn’t, but it was like, on some level I just knew it was going to happen again. I know that’s just paranoia and trauma and hindsight talking, but… It’s embarrassing. I can handle pools and the beach just fine. Hell, I even got over facing that slimy bastard at the lake after killing him a couple more times. Started looking forward to paying him back on the regular, even. But you get the conditions just right… deep water, unknown variables, high stakes, something lurking… and it just sends me… sends me right back down there. I always brush it off. Though. That’s what I do. Put my head down, power on through to the other side. Maybe let myself go a bit, having fun in the vio- in the hunt, along the way to take my mind off it. And then today happens and I can’t even be scared as I’m going down because I’m fucking hypnotized by the damn sky like the dumb beast everyone thinks I am!”

This isn’t right. Eris isn’t the one who cries. Eris is the strong one.

That isn’t right. E isn’t…

Lacuna leans in closer, wrapping her arms around her friend.

“You’re not a dumb beast,” she whispers. “You’re kind and funny and smart and gentle and laugh at my lame references and explain why romcoms are great actually and listen to me when I ramble and do volunteer work and get me to go out in public and show me how to do makeup even if neither of us ever actually bothers with it usually and your smarter than me and know like a hundred different trees and are quadlingual or something and are good with directions and… and… and…”

Eris puts her own arms around her friend.

Lacuna remembers what those hands did to the bloodsucker on the ship, flinches, then hugs her tighter.

“Shhh…. Shhh…” Eris whispers. “Can’t have both of us crying. Where would we be then?”

“Crying on your bed together like a couple of losers.”

“Well, that can’t be right, because, I don’t know about me, but you’re definitely not a loser.”

“If I’m not then you couldn’t possibly be.”

“It’d be pretty weird then if there were a couple of losers crying on my bed then, huh?”

“Yeah, it sure would be.”

This is right. This is a comforting silence.

Even after being rained on, Eris still smells like the ocean, still has a salty feel to her shirt. But she’s warm now. Warm and alive.

7. Butting heads with Sullivan.

“So, you got keys for us or something?” Eris asks.

Bridgewood flashes a toothy grin. “Or something. Techie, hold still for a moment will you?”

“Um, okay?” Lacuna says, still dazed from the transit.

“Perfect.”

Something polished and sharp appears in Bridgewood’s hand, glinting as it catches a sunbeam that has broken through the trees. Ashan barely recognizes the object as a knife before it disappears in a blur of movement.

Lacuna screams.

By the time Ashan has drawn his wand by sheer reflex the knife has stopped half an inch from Lacuna’s defensively raised hand, held in place by Eris’s crushing grip on Bridgewood’s wrist. The woman in red, nearly half a foot taller, glowers down at the clearly amused man in yellow.

“No need to get so worked up,” Bridgewood lilts, “I only needed a drop.” He nods toward the knife in his hand and, sure enough, a single crimson droplet hangs onto its point. A second droplet begins to well up from Lacuna’s pricked finger.

“Warn us next time,” Eris growls and lets him go with a shove.

#tag game #seven snippets seven people #writeblr #writing tag games #my writing #Empty Names

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momentsofamberclarity · 3 months

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I specifically called it substance abuse not because of the fact he smokes weed

The person this is about has used money meant for commissions to buy drugs and has allegedly given them to minors. I don’t care if you smoke weed, he does so to an excessive point

furthermore the FB post wasn’t some petty callout but a beware post because this is continuous behavior since at least 2020, he has been racist, transphobic, has sexted minors, has groomed them into starting a relationship with him and this has absolutely nothing to do with him being an anti, but that he’s a predator who uses anti circles and furry communities to prey on minors

I'm not defending this person's behavior. I'm telling you that addictive behavior is not a crime. What the money is being spent on should not be factoring into this equation. The point is that he is stealing it. If you genuinely cared about the people who are having their money stolen you'd only be stating that he is a scammer and warning people to be wary of suspicion claims for need of money or suspicious art commissions.

But you only care because he is spending that stolen money on addictive substances. You only changed your phrasing when I didn't share your post the way that you wanted me to with your vague view points because it looks better if everyone just agrees that drug usage = bad. And I'm sorry, but I do not agree with that sentiment. His drug usage is none of your business because he is an adult.

None of my argument has anything to do with me defending him as a person, or dismissing the claims of those minors who were taken advantage of or the people who had to call the police to get their animals and belongings back from him. I am defending addiction. Because if you blacklist one addict for making shitty choices with their drug usage, you may as well claim the whole community of addicts are shitty people just for having that one single trait of addiction in common with him.

Block him, tell your circle of friends to block him. But telling other strangers on the internet like myself to post callouts will get you absolutely nowhere.

If this person you're talking about is anything like the person from the tumblr rpc that harasses me on main which has been on-going since 2018, and it sounds like he is, then there is no stopping someone who has zero regret harming others no matter how many callouts you make or how much proof of behavior you post, or how many times you block or report them, or even if you call the cops for cyber crimes. He's going to keep crying that he's the victim, and he will always have people who don't know the whole situation being manipulated by him and ready to defend him. And in doing so, the behavior cycle will continue. The more you call him out, the more it feeds into his victim complex of making it all about him.

The best thing you can do to with people like this is give them no attention at all. You also need to understand that you cannot be responsible for the safety of the entire internet; you have to be responsible for yourself and let other people be responsible for themselves as well.

#anti callout culture #anti cancel culture #anti harassment #addiction is not a crime #ambers.ask

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bokettochild · 3 years

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Request: Fairy Hyrule, Minish Four and Bunny Legend cuddlefic? Mostly because I love the idea of hugging a bunny ten times your size. THINK OF THE (literal) FLUFF AND SOFTNESS

So... I got a bit caught up in the WHY of them all being Small, and... this happened.

It all got deleted halfway through and I had to rewrite it from memory, but it turned out okay (although I don't like the flow as much this time through), bt it's... a bit long. This baby was ten pages, and it took forever to get to the cuddling bit- sorry about that.

Anyways, Anon, here is your (long overdue) Tiny fic (it ain't tiny).

The others are laughing and it’s making him mad. Usually, he’s just smack them over the head (a much good as it would do, curse his weak arms) but usually he can reach that high.

Right now, he can’t.

Because right now, he’s a freaking rabbit

He’s a little pink rabbit sitting in the middle of a circle of heroes who are all laughing at him, and more than anything he wants to hop his freaking furry tail over to Warrior’s horrid choice of footwear and bite the shit out of the captain’s ankles; he deserves it (the rancher does to).

“How did this happen?” Hyrule wheezes out, and even though he wants to be, Legend finds that he can’t be mad at the healer, not when the kid’s face is flushed with laughter, his smile bright and carefree, golden gaze watery under the force of his bell-like laughter as it pricks at Legend’s sensitive ears.

“I don’t know!” Twilight wheezes from where he’s leaning against Time, hearty chuckles exploring from him unabashedly as he looks down at Legend. “We were scouting around the camp and when I turned around,” He gestures weakly to the veteran, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. “Rabbit!”

Legend scowls. He doesn’t even know what happened. One minute he was walking and the next he was tumbling head over paws on the pathway. He’d refused to let Twilight carry him back to camp (if only to try and maintain whatever dignity he had left) and had waited hopefully for Twilight to retrieve the Master Sword for him, only for Warriors to stumble upon him with the darkest expression he’s ever seen on the captain’s face.

Warriors’ expression at seeing a rabbit might very well haunt Legend’s dreams for ages to come, and had prompted a squeak of fear from him that had sent Sky darting up from his seat. “Legend!” The Chosen Hero had shouted, concern in his sky-blue eyes as he had skidded to his knees at Legend’s side, cautious hands scooping him up and inspecting him for injuries in the brief moment where he was too shocked to protest. Of course, he wouldn’t stand it for long, and after pawing at Sky’s fingers with angry huffs and squeaks that he was going to hope the others would forget about, he had been released back onto the ground.

Which landed them where they were now, surrounded by cackling heroes as they stared down at the fluffy pink ball of fur that was their salty veteran.

“Wow vet, I’d’ve never guessed, a rabbit?” Warriors wheezes, eyes full of mirth. “No wonder we don’t get along!”

He rolls his eyes and growls as best as he can as a rabbit (not like he can growl anyway, but he tries none-the-less). “Just hand over the Master Sword so we can get this shit over with.” He squeaks, ignoring how his growls sound more like honks and chitters than anything threatening.

Sky looks at him oddly, as do several of the others, none of them (save Twi and Sky) apparently expecting him to be able to speak in this form, but the Chosen Hero obliges regardless, reaching back for the Master Sword and carefully settling it within Legend’s reach.

The cool cross-guard is comfortable under his paws, even if it is too big, and he sighs in relief as the power of the blade flows over him. In a moment, his form will disappear into the light and reappear, whole and Hylian, and fully capable of kicking some rancher ass.

Just a moment....

A second more...

He blinks his eyes open, violet flitting across the blade in mounting concern as he takes in the fluffy pink paws that are where his hands should be. Why isn’t it working? Why is he still a helpless rabbit?

“That’s weird.” Twilight and Sky both murmur, exchanging a worried glance as the Skyloftian retrieves the blade. He lunges after it though, not giving Sky a chance to inspect the blade and instead startling him with the weight of a rabbit in his lap as pink paws reach up to grasp the sword hilt again.

“Fi, explain.”

The sword spirit’s voice rings clear and cool in his head as Sky lowers the blade further, better into his reach. He hardly processes the motion, so focused on the words, which is perhaps why he doesn't question the stabilizing hand that lowers onto his back.

“Young Master,” Fi chimes softly in his mind. “The forces which have transformed you are not dark in nature. There is a 76% chance that they are in fact, of nature themselves. As such, my blade is unable to undo the curse. You will likely have to wait until this curse runs its course.”

“How long.” He grates out, nose shivering in irritation as his ears flick back, brushing gently against the Skyloftian's fingers and making Sky gasp softly.

“Processing....There is a 49% percent chance that this curse will fade and return you to your Hylian form in approximately three days' time, and there is a 27% percent chance that it will take a week for said change to occur. Additionally, there is a 15% percent chance that the curse will not fade, and a 9% chance that this curse will make you explode.”

A strangled screech escapes him and he doesn’t even realize his paws have released the sacred blade until they are grasping at his ears, tugging with all of the pent-up emotion inside of his body as he processes the words. Never mind the exploding bit, he might not turn back? There’s only a fifty-fifty chance that he’ll turn back in the next few days?

Sky’s long fingers drag through his fur gently, rubbing soothing circles over his back. “What did she say?”

“Three days!” He tugs his ears again. “Three days of being utterly useless and helpless, and it’s not even certain that I’ll turn back! I could be stuck like this forever! I could explode!”

“Exploding doesn’t seem likely-” Twilight attempts to calm him, but it only makes him tug his ears harder.

“Fi said it might happen!” He shouts back, high pitched and squeaky, and hating every second of it. He buries his face in the fabric beneath him, his rabbit heart pounding with panic and cold dread washing over him as the words continue to spew from his mouth. “And if Fi said it could happen than it might! And we were about to go into battle too! What’ll happen if someone gets hurt? I can’t help anyone and there's absolutely nothing that stupid bunny could do and-”

Someone’s scratching his ears.

Long fingers rubbing just right between them and Legend is helpless to tell them to stop because he’s too busy melting into a puddle in Sky’s lap at the sensation. All thoughts flee as he lets Sky’s hands drive away all worries. Should he be worried that he’s rendered speechless and vulnerable by something so simple? Probably, but Sky seems to know just how to place his hands and Legend can only hum in appreciation at the feeling, a squeaky purr escaping him as he leans into the sensation as Sky hums something soft and soothing under his breath. The vibrations carry down his fingers and tingle down Legend’s spine, calming him further.

“Cute.” Twilight's voice breaks him from his thoughts, and he’s pulling back from Sky’s hands and glaring up at the rancher with all the fury he can fit in his now tiny body.

“He’s not wrong, Kit.” Time chuckles soft and low, and Legend whips his head around to stare at the man.

“Oh no, you are not giving me a nickname!”

“Yeah Time,” Sky’s voice is low and mirthful as he speaks, hand once more settling on Legend’s back as he lifts an arm to block the vet from launching himself at their leader. “He’s my descendant, if anyone should be giving him a nickname it’s me.”

“How about Nibbles?” The sailor grins, leering into Legend’s space with enough mischief in his gaze to kill a Lynel. “I mean, the vet is always chewing us out.”

He forgets for a moment that his growls sound more like chirps in this form, baring his teeth at the sailor as he attempts to frighten him off. It doesn’t work, rabbits aren’t made to scare off bigger animals “So help me sailor I-”

Large hands scoop him off the ground and suddenly he’s being cradled in Sky’s arms. Like a baby. The indignity! “Calm down, Bun, he’s just kidding.” Sky’s crystal eyes glimmer with genuine concern as he looks down at Legend. “And we’ll find a way to change you back, I promise. The goddesses wouldn’t have let you change like this if it was for the worse. You’ll see,” Sky bops his nose with a smile entirely too pure. “It’ll be fine.”

Legend would like to argue that point, the goddesses have never shown any particular interest in what’s best for him before, and most of them seem to find humor in ruining his life time and again (except the Golden Trio, they’re alright he guesses, especially Din), but Sky looks so certain and Legend’s honestly too tired to start a big fight about Hylia again. (Heaven knows the last time he made Sky mad he nearly shat himself at how terrifyingly defensive Sky could get about those he loved). It doesn’t matter anyway, he supposes, as Sky’s already standing and making is way back to their main camp, gait just smooth enough not to jostle his reluctant passenger as Legend slumps in place.

He might as well let this happen, at least until he can figure out how to fix it.

It’s official.

Legend hates being a bunny.

They’ve settled down for dinner and as if to mock him and all that he loves, Wild has been struck with the inspiration to make his absolutely heavenly radish stew. The one that Legend would literally sell some of his rings for because it is that good.

And he can’t eat it.

He tried, and that attempt resulted in both himself and Sky covered in broth, the thick liquid clinging to his fur now as he sits on the ground with some raw fruits and vegetables instead. He doesn’t know that he’ll ever be able to eat it again without being forced to remember nearly drowning in the stuff.

He feels like a baby and he hates it.

He’s soaked himself and his ancestor and food and Warriors still isn’t done tittering about it.

He really hates being a bunny.

The others have nearly stepped on him numerous times, simply because they aren’t used to having to watch underfoot, so every time someone walks over to Wild to get seconds (why did the Champion sit next to him and Sky in the first place?) he has to back-peddle onto his haunches to avoid being crushed under heavy boots and even heavier feet.

Add to that that Wild and Wind both subconsciously reach out to pet his bedraggled fur every few minutes and he’s absolutely fed up with this shit!

At least the Champion was willing to lend him something to dry his fur off with, and even if he hates it, the spare brush Warriors has on hand does a decent job of detangling his fluffy hide. If he melts a little in Twilight’s lap as the rancher goes over him with the brush than no one says anything (although both Sky and Time have infuriating matching smiles on their faces).

But then it’s bedtime and Time is sorting through his things to try and make sure that no one person will have to carry all his stuff, and he’s reminded once again how utterly useless he is in this form. It only makes things worse that he knows that the others will be burdened with his bags, and considering his top speed at the moment can only be held for short sprints, he’s pretty sure the Old Man is going to have someone carry him too.

The very idea makes him puff out his fur in irritation.

At the very least though, he doesn’t have to worry much about how he’s going to handle the cold nights, Sky’s already taken his beloved sailcloth and bundled it into a little nest, and the minute Twilight is done with his fur the Chosen Hero is scooping him up and laying him in it (absently, he wonders if Sky might have a stronger paternal instinct than Time and if his own small form is triggering that). The fabric is warm though, and it’s nice. If Sky curls up around him in the middle of the night though, well, he supposes there’s not really much he can do about that.

Sky does curl around him and he’s trapped.

The Skyloftian may look soft and cuddly, but he’s got an iron grip when he’s asleep, and it’s only by the pure squishability of his current form that he’s able to escape (Sky will be disappointed when he wakes up, he knows, but even so, Legend doesn’t intend on staying a rabbit, not for a whole week, especially when there’s monsters out there.

Perhaps the thought of said monsters should dissuade him, but it doesn’t. He knows now what triggered this change, and he’s determined to hunt it down and trick it into changing him back, he just needs to escape his babysitters for a hot tic in order to do so.

It’s a lucky thing that Four and Warriors are both so drowsy that the feather light step of a rabbit doesn’t catch their attention as the two sit on watch, and Legend’s able to creep over to his bag (positioned with Twilight’s things) and dig through it until he finds what he needs.

You can’t go making deals with the fae unless you have something of value, or those tricksters will rob you blind and steal your first born. Not that Legend ever intends on having kids, but on the off chance that he ever did he’d rather they didn’t have a shitty life because he made an error in dealing with a forest sprite.

Come to think of it, how powerful are the forest people of this time?

Warriors looks seconds away from walking up to Sky’s sleeping form and throwing Legend as far as he can into the distance, and it’s making Four nervous.

Rationally, they know that Warriors wouldn’t consciously do such a thing, but they also know how much Warriors hates rabbits in general, and that the captain’s initial instinct at seeing them is to toss them away from himself as far as possible (never mind how rare a real rabbit is, Warriors’ time is apparently full of them and Warriors hates them). They’ve heard the story, how the captain was made to hunt rabbits down across his world and return them to their homes, the fact that he did so by throwing them is a bit concerning considering the delicate bone structure of the animals, but it’s not Wars’ fault that he doesn’t know that.

All the same, Four would feel a bit more secure if they knew that Wars wouldn’t be doing such a thing. (Rationally, they know he won’t, but rationality is only so much of the equation).

“I’m gonna check on the vet.” They murmur softly to their companion. Somethings not right and they hope it’s just Warriors’ previous retellings of his own rabbit-escapades eating at them and not something else. “Sky’s got a grip like a vice when he sleeps and I don’t want him getting crushed.”

Never mind that being small sucks when it’s this cold out. Four desperately hopes that it won’t rain tonight (although the air tastes right for it).

“Rabbits are tough little things,” The captain chuckles. “I’m sure he’s okay.”

Vio wrenches control from the others, gaze flat as he stares out at Wars. “You do know most rabbits can’t survive being thrown, right? They’re not like cats, if they land wrong their done for.”

The captain pales slightly but doesn’t say anything, and they take that as their cue to stand and make their way over to where Sky and the vet had bedded down for the night. Sure enough, Sky is curled up around the sailcloth nest he made for Legend like a child curled around their favorite stuffed animal (or Red with any of the rest of them), but at the very least it doesn’t look as if Legend would have been smashed, just caged. They wince, the vet doesn’t sleep well on a good night, but waking up to being trapped? That is...not good. There’s a reason they never force him to join everyone else when Red takes over and calls for a cuddle pile; everyone knows that the most Legend will stand is letting Hyrule hold his hand while he sleeps, and even then, the vet will still pull away when he finally does fall asleep.

Sky shifts (he’s a heavy sleeper, but all the same he moves a lot), arms wrapping tighter around the bundle in his arms. Tight enough that the sailcloth gives way. Sky’s face screws up in his sleep, wrapping even tighter around the bundle as if seeking out some form of resistance.

Four panics. Bunnies are delicate creatures and Sky is strong, did he just crush Legend?

Only, looking closer, Vio points out that there isn’t even a hint of pink amidst the fabric, and when Four dares reach out to test the bundle himself, they find that there is nothing within its folds.

“Four?” Warriors’ voice is tinged with concern as Four stand back up from his crouch, brows pinched together as he scans over the camp. “Is something wrong?”

“Legend’s missing.”

The captain’s brows shoot up, but thankfully he doesn’t bother with questioning them, instead hoisting himself to his feet and making his way around the camp, an ever-growing frown marring his features as he looks around. “Did he choose to sleep with Hyrule instead?” It’s a soft murmur, likely only spoken aloud because Wars is too tired to stop it before it reaches his mouth, but Four’s eyes flick over to where the Traveler sleeps regardless.

“I don’t think so.”

“Look,” Warriors groans softly, not loud enough to wake the others, stopping at Twilight’s bedroll and motioning to the bags stacked near the rancher's pillow. “His bag is open.”

“You don’t think he climbed inside of it, do you? We’d never find him!”

The captain gives him a look, blinking once before shaking his head. “No! But he was clearly trying to get at something.” Royal blue eyes turn to stare out at the forest. “What are the chances he went back out there, alone?”

Four hesitates, fingers drumming on his thigh as the colors swarm in his mind. “I don’t know, but I should probably check.”

“We need to watch camp.” The older hero frowns.

“You watch camp, I’ll go out there.”

“You can’t go alone, Four, it’s not safe.” Wars reminds him, concern glinting in his gaze as he turns back to the smithy.

“Fine.” Blue’s the only reason they roll their eyes, they swear. “I’ll take Hyrule. If the vet’s fallen down a hole or something then we can take care of it immediately.”

A smile breaks out across Warriors’ face, even if it is slightly strained. “Funny how that’s even a risk now.”

“Don’t I know it.” Besides, at least Hyrule seems to have a second sense for these sorts of things. Like Sky and Twilight, he has a knack for tracking down the others, especially if he needs to find Time for whatever reason. Four’s seen it themselves, it’s uncanny, but incredibly useful, so they’ve never really questioned it (Vio has, Vio has questioned it enough to give them a head-ache).

It’s the work of a minute to shake the traveler awake, as he’s one of the lightest sleepers of them all, and it takes even less time for them to be off, the simple words “Legend’s gone” being enough to send the traveler springing up and following closely after Four, one hand on his sword as the two of them make their way back into the depths of the forest.

Legend should know better than to try and make a deal with the fae.

Hyrule can recognize the look of a fairy about to claim her prize in an instant, and it appears Legend is about as clueless as a bunny can be about the loophole that he must have left open in whatever twisted deal the two have concocted. Anger burns in his blood as a whisper-hisses through his teeth, a few words all it takes before he’s zipping between the two of them, wings beating furiously as all six of his eyes stare into those of the other with nothing short of pure fury.

“Mine!” He hisses, darting forwards in a fake charge at the other, wings whirring angrily as his eyes stare at them “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine!” His voice contorts and buzzes, his aura flickering brighter and sharper as he zooms down to hover over Legend’s ears. “MINE.”

“What is your claim?” The other chimes smugly. “What promise or service marks him as yours? Where is the Mark that makes a mortal the charge of a fae, hmm? Show it to me and I will release him to your care.” Glistening teeth glimmer as multiple eyes glisten with malice, jealousy over a potential catch making the fairy’s gaze spark dangerously. “Else ways, leave us be, our deal is near set and you have no business to interrupt it.”

“His true form,” He hisses. “There is my Mark on his hand. The Triangle, my symbol.” He hisses through bared teeth, every eye slitted and glimmering with fury. He can’t lie, not even if he tried, but he’s fae and they’re more skilled than anyone at finding tricks to get around things. The triforce is his symbol, something he’s recognizable by in his world, but it’s not only on his hand, the others bear the same mark and even if it isn’t Fae in origin, it's from the Scared Realm and none can deny that it sets them apart. Anyways, the Fae know mortals by their markings, this should be enough of a claim to make her renounce her dealings with Legend.

No fae dares mess with the Charge of another.

“What is your proof? Can you show me?” She taunts.

“My power isn’t that strong.” He hisses. “You do it and then you’ll see!”

“And give him what he asks without receiving my due? Oh no little Half-Blood.” She glares at him. “Give me Good Reason or leave alone.”

“He is goddess born.” He hisses out finally, grasping at straws. Mother only taught him so much of Fae law, but surely there’s something against touching those blessed by the heavens, right? “Hylia’s child descended. To touch him or any other of Mine is to plead wrath from the Scared Realm.” A sly smile slides over pointed teeth. “Would you wish that on Yours?”

She pales. “Mark your own in all forms, Halfling. This would not happen if you did.” It’s all she cares to say though, zipping away without another word.

“Do I want to know what I just avoided?” Legend’s voice croaks up at him, faint and pitchy all the same as he looks up to the fairy above him.

“I don’t know. But never, and I mean NEVER, make deals with fae again. Not even me! You can’t break promises or be too careful, you never know what they’ll do.” Two of his eyes glance over his shoulder to ensure that the other Fae is gone for good.

“I was trying to be careful.” Legend huffs, his breath sending Hyrule higher over his head for a moment before the fairy regains his balance. “They’re clever little-” He cuts off, violet eyes narrowing and bunny nose shivering as he looks up at Hyrule again. “You’re a fairy.”

His aura dims slightly, wings drooping ever so slightly as he looks down at his mentor. “Yes.”

Legend stares, violet piercing and sharp. Hyrule has never noticed the hint of gold that bands his irises, nor the flecks of blue that glisten under the effects of a fairy’s glow, and it only makes the Veteran’s stare all the more intense.

“Huh.” The bunny huffs softly. “That’s pretty neat, ‘Rulie.” There's no anger, no accusation in his tone, and when Hyrule brings his gaze up to meet that of his mentor again, all he sees is fondness and intrigue. “Is this new? An item? Were you- no,” Legend’s ears prick forwards, his interest obvious as he leans forward. (Hyrule wonders if the vet realizes that he's smelling him.) “You speak like They do. This isn’t new.”

It’s not a question.

“I’m, uh, half fairy.”

Legend nods slowly. “And you didn’t think to tell anyone?” At the dimming of Hyrule’s glow the vet pulls away, eyes flashing with panic for a moment. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing, ‘Rule, just-” He cocks his head long ears flopping to one side sloppily. “It’s not something I’d think you’d want to hide. Seems pretty useful to me.”

And by useful, Hyrule knows Legend means cool.

“I told Four.” He nods to the Hylian standing over them. The smithy’s eyes flicker various colors, his lips pulling aside into a slight smile as he crouches to be closer to their height.

“Now I’m taller than both of you.” Four chuckles softly, crimson tinged gaze sweeping over the two of them.

“Don’t get smart.” Legend huffs. “This is a curse, not my true form, you’d be tiny too if you were cursed into an animal form. Probably smaller than me!”

There’s a knowing look in the smithy’s gaze, but he holds his silence, smile still present as he carefully looks over the both of them. “Well, if neither of you were harmed in that little exchange, we should get back to camp. Wars will be in a huff if we don’t back with you soon.”

Legend huffs his own huff, but doesn’t object, gathering up the glimmering item he had brought as a toll (Hyrule thinks it might be a precious stone of some sort) and slowly hopping after the Smithy as he turns back towards camp.

They’d have made it to camp rather quickly too, if the sky hadn’t chosen that moment to weep out it’s sorrow with the world and the evils within. Great sheets of rain, the likes of which they usually only expect from the Champion’s Hyrule, flood down over them, and Hyrule thanks all things Holy that Legend is there to break his fall as the water soaks his wings and sends him careening towards the earth. Four yelps in surprise, hands fumbling for his hood as he tried to fend off some of the wet (it does little good, they’ll be soaked in seconds in this downpour.

“In here!” Legend squeaks, the rabbit hero already darting into the nearest hollow he can see that isn’t clearly inhabited. It’s a tight squeeze, and Hyrule nearly knocks his head on the bark of the opening, but Legend gets the both of them under, and despite the mushrooms that seem to fill the space with a soft light, it’s a comfortable fit for the two of them. The ground beneath is laid with moss, purposefully it would seem, and Hyrule lets himself side down into it with an appreciative hum.

“What about Four?” He murmurs softly, looking out of the crevice through which they entered. It’s still pouring buckets, and unlike them, the smithy has no dry place to hide (heavens knows the camp will be soaked. He feels terrible for the others).

“What about me?”

Violet and gold turn upwards as twin gasps escape the two. Four, in all of his minish glory, waves back at them from where he’s perched on top of one of the mushrooms. “Minish portal.” He smiles cheerily (but Hyrule can Taste the nervousness rolling off of him).

“Wait, both of you get small?” Legend’s ears stand up straight, brushing the roof of their shelter. “Smaller?” He corrects himself.

Four rolls his eyes. “It was get soaked or get small. I don’t fancy catching a cold, so I chose small.” He wrinkles his nose (it will never stop being cute), hopping down from the mushroom and free falling into the dampened fur of his rabbit-companion. “Now shut up and let me warm up, you’re bigger than I am and since you left me out there to soak I think I can get away with using you to warm up.”

Hyrule’s laughter rings soft and sweet through the hollow, Legend’s vaguely offended expression only adding fuel to the fire as he flits closer. “The vet doesn’t really mind cuddles, do you Ledge? Besides,” He lets his wings fall still, embracing the warmth of Legend’s soft fur as he lands in it lightly. “We just saved his ass.”

Legend turns his head to stare at the two of them, but even in rabbit form his lips twitch with amusement as he shoves him nose into Four’s personal space, making the minish-hero tumble down into the moss with a faint yelp. “You’re soaking.”

The smith grins back, plunging right back into the warm pink fur. “That wasn’t a refusal.”

“One time.” Legend huffs, ears flicking briefly. “One time only, smithy. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Trust me,” Four sighs, plonking down against the vet and leaning into the plush fur around him. “I will.”

It takes mere seconds before Four has drifted off, and Hyrule is reminded that the smith was keeping watch for most of the night before they had gone out looking for Legend. Guilt, sickly-sweet, yet bitter, taints his tongue as Legend stares down at the tiny form curled against him. Hyrule sighs. “I guess he was more tired than I thought.”

Legend only huffs, ears flicking back and nose shivering as he noses the smithy’s sleeping from. Four’s dropped off like a stone, completely dead to the world as Legend curls around him (not dissimilar to how Sky had curled around him earlier that night), easing the gentle shivers of the smith, who noses deeper into Legend’s pelt. Tiny paws coming up to catch hold of pink fur as Four curls up, feather-like tail brushing against the top of his tiny nose, moved only by tiny snores that make Legend’s ears twitch and Hyrule giggle softly.

“The rains still pouring down.” Legend hums, gruff as he can be in his current state, but Hyrule knows it’s all an act. “You might as well get some sleep too, ‘Rulie.”.

And while any other time Hyrule may have argued, Legend lifts his head to offer the space next to Four, and if Legend is offering cuddles, especially with his silky soft fur as a barrier against the cold, Hyrule knows he can’t resist it.

Four’s paw catches hold of him the instant he settles next to the smithy, and before he knows it the two of them are both bundled up in each other while Legend curls himself around them, breath soft and soothing as his heart pit-patters away inside of him.

That’s how they wake the next morning.

Wolfie’s nose shoved against the crack in the bark is what pulls them back from the land of dreams, and the soft snuffling bark followed by Time’s voice is what gets them up on their feet. It’s an awkward thing, emerging into the light again to find five heroes and a wolf staring down at them in a mixture of confusion and concern, but nobody seems to be able to bring themselves to scold when Four sneezes.

“We got caught in the storm.” Legend huffs when he sees the soft expression on Time’s face.

Wolfie huffs, and, much to the surprise of the currently shrunken heroes, they can hear the laugh in it. “Of course you did.”

Hyrule’s mouth drops open, all six eyes bugging out in shock as he turns to Four. The fairy’s whisper is high and shocked, but too sharp a noise for Hylian ears, although Legend, Wolfie and Four can all hear him quite clearly. “Wolfie is Twilight!”

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