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fleckcmscott · 4 years

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Bewitching Hour

Summary: October has been a blissfully busy month. With Halloween around the corner, Arthur and Y/N have some planning to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,665

A/N: Special thanks to @hhandley80 for this request! You've been so supportive and sweet. I truly appreciate you and hope you enjoy it!

On a side note, my oneshots will be more sporadic. I'm still writing but life has been life. Also, I've finished the first draft of another multi-chapter featuring Arthur and Y/N. It's going to take time to rewrite the subsequent drafts and edit, edit, edit. The chapters will go up once the story is ready. Thanks for your patience and support! 🙂 I heart you all!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask!

Arthur's suggestion that they make plans to celebrate Halloween should not have been a surprise. He loved starting traditions with Y/N, and she prized adopting them with him. "It's been awhile," he'd said as they'd walked arm-in-arm to the laundromat. "I think it'd be nice."

Holidays had been a source of merriment most of her life. The beauty of red and green decorations at Christmas. Turkey and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving. An egg hunt and chocolate rabbit at Easter. The togetherness of family during them all.

Halloween, though, wasn't a favorite.

As a child, she'd had fun trick-or-treating, riding her bike from house to far-flung house. And she hadn't minded escorting her little sister as a teenager. Y/N's homemade witch costume had been passed down. She could still recall the sleekness of the ribbon between her fingers as she'd secured the pointed hat under Mabel's chin.

But the magic had fallen away. When married to Jeff, she'd had to attend his boss's annual party. After receiving an apologetic shrug and kiss, she'd be relegated to hanging out with the other wives. They'd included her in their recipe swaps, in their exchanges of mild gossip. Her natural friendliness made chit-chat easy, far easier than having a good time. Those evenings had been spent nursing a glass of wine and willing the clock to go faster.

During the period she'd cared for her father, she'd tried to hand out candy. She liked being a good neighbor and imparting kindness in the form of bite-sized sweets. As his health had declined, the porch light had gone dark. Random rings of the doorbell would result in shouting and swearing. Repeated attempts to explain the door's lock wasn't broken. Festivity would transform into drudgery. It hadn't been worth the trouble. Instead, she'd watched terrible TV specials while her thoughts wandered to a future far from Boonville. A future she'd doubted would ever be.

"I don't know if it's your thing," Arthur had continued, bringing her back to the present. "But you might enjoy it with me." The response he longed for was evident in the worrying of his pocket, outlines of his knuckles visible through the tan cloth.

Everything they'd experienced together had soothed the sting of those wasted years. The hesitancy lurking in her was silly. Unwelcome. Less than either of them deserved. She'd met his keen eyes and half-smile. The sudden mental image of him dressed as a cowboy or pirate, eyepatch and all, prompted a laugh. Convinced her as she dug out her dry-cleaning stub. "It isn't my thing," she'd said. "But you are."

Relief had relaxed his wrinkles, save for his crows feet, which had deepened as he'd returned her happy expression. A slender arm wrapped around her waist, drew her against his solid frame. Once the clerk disappeared through the swinging doors to retrieve their clothes, Arthur grasped her chin and kissed her. The tender explorations were soon sloppy, and she'd giggled, his enthusiasm becoming her own. Their noses had met, his lashes resting on his wide cheekbones. "I think you're the sweetest treat, Mrs. Fleck."

Currently, Donahue's Department Store, Gotham's number one retail emporium (if the ads were to be believed), was bustling with last-minute shoppers. Weary mothers escorted their babbling children through the aisles. Clerks swapped out displays for the changing blue light specials. Lines went for yards. Patricia and Y/N sought refuge at a corner table in the café on the top floor. The warm glow from the pendant lamps provided a relaxed ambience, one that matched the hot cider and pumpkin spice cake they were savoring.

"I've got my grandson on Sunday," Patricia said between bites. "My daughter's going to a party with a medical records tech from Gotham General. Met him when she missed the bus. They split a cab and hit it off." Chuckling, she lifted her mug. "Speaking of, how's married life been so far?"

Memories of the past week quickened Y/N's heart, until she thought it might stop. How Arthur had gripped her replacement Social Security card, just to read her new name. The way he'd grab her for a twirl whenever they were in the kitchen. The reverence in his gaze when they'd lay together after sex, a look that both thrilled and made her blush. "The bills for his medication and appointments will no longer make us cringe," she deadpanned. She lowered her fork. "When we met, I was kind of blindsided - I'm not the type to fall in love quickly." The corners of her lips tugged up. "Being married to Arthur feels like a habit. A habit I should have learned twenty years ago."

"I'm glad you found each other." Patricia reached across the light brown table and covered Y/N's hand, gave it a squeeze. Then she wiped frosting from her mouth and nodded in the direction of the escalator. "Now let's find a costume that'll drive him nuts."

Beyond the colorful cosmetics and pungent perfume counters, they sorted through racks of vinyl smocks and plastic masks. Pop culture icons and princesses. Vampires and spooks. Knockoffs of classic movie monsters. Most were poorly made and decidedly uninteresting. Y/N pawed through accessories in a nearby basket, a cigar here, a patched hat there. "How about a hobo? I could steal Arthur's tie."

"This was his idea. Give him something a little exciting." After a roll of Y/N's eyes, Patricia held out a plastic display bag. "Found it."

The white font on its blue label declared she should "Create a unique look!" A woman in a leopard-print leotard and bow-tie wore black cat ears and a tail, the only two items included in the set. Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I don't think so, Patricia." She rummaged through another bin and examined a hockey mask. "I don't show a lot of skin."

"You show Arthur." Patricia ignored Y/N's glare, continuing to shove it at her. "Every man loves a woman dressed as a cat. Our next lunch is on me if I'm wrong."

Patricia could be relentless, but Y/N had to admit she was usually right. She arched a brow as she eyed the costume. Maybe she could find a solid body suit instead of animal print. The kit was only $2.98. And her friend had made it a challenge. "You're on. But I'm not wearing a bow-tie." She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her mouth. "Your turn. Would Robert like you as a French maid or a go-go dancer?"

~~~~~

It was a busy season for performers. Arthur remembered HaHa's talent agency being booked solid for October by the end of August. Myriad functions at nursing homes, parties, and children's organizations took place throughout the city. Amusement Mile had a series of special events, allowing Arthur to work extra hours before the slowness of winter dragged in. Once the holiday was over, he'd buy make-up and props on clearance.

He'd always assumed he would like Halloween - if he'd had the chance to celebrate it properly. It was about connection, something he'd never managed. The customs gave him a pretense, a template to meet people, rather than leaving him wondering how to go about it. Provided a hiding place for his seeming inability to act normal.

Recollections of the day were few but vivid. When he'd been around eight, there'd been a party at school. The teacher had made brownies and given the students a half-hour respite from lessons. (A welcome relief, since he wasn't very good at most of them.) But he hadn't had a costume. Hadn't known how to reply when the other kids asked where it was. Not wanting to be left out, he'd pocketed a watercolor pallet and sneaked to the bathroom.

The teacher (he wished he could remember her name) had walked in as he'd smeared green and blue on his face, a pathetic attempt at a turtle. Fear of punishment had caused his laughter. But her kindness as she knelt, wiped away tears and pigment with a scratchy, brown paper towel, had calmed him. "Wait here," she'd instructed. It had taken all his courage not to run home.

After some minutes, she'd returned, an old white sheet in one hand, black marker and pair of scissors in the other. "The nurse won't miss this." She'd traced eyeholes, helped him cut them out. She'd asked questions. About his mother and what it was like at home. Questions he was at a loss for how to answer. Finally, she'd draped the cloth over his head. "There," she'd declared. "Gotham Elementary has its own ghost."

Even as he'd gotten taller and the sheet no longer went beyond his knees, that costume had remained his go-to. He'd venture out to the rest of his building, knocking on paint-chipped doors and pushing broken buzzers. Having learned to stay away from doors that yelling or funny smells emanated from, he hadn't gotten a lot of candy. What he had collected he'd shared with Penny. The wax lips became a free toy. He wasn't sure his memory of startling his mother and being tickled until he couldn't breathe was real or imagined.

At twelve, he was told he was too old to go trick-or-treating. He'd starting scrounging for change to buy hard candies at Helm's Pharmacy. They weren't particularly appetizing, but they'd been what he could afford. Only a few kids rang, a number that dwindled further every year. Most neighbors kept their distance, likely aware he was troubled. Cinnamon discs and butterscotch drops had loitered around the apartment for months. He'd sucked on them in an attempt to cut down on his smoking, just to save money. It hadn't worked.

Y/N hadn't spoken about the holiday, not the way she had other special occasions. At first, he'd thought it had slipped her mind. Work, planning their honeymoon, completing the red tape required to meld all aspects of their lives had taken up much of their time. But, given her reluctance to talk in detail about her past heartache, he'd come to assume her Halloweens had been unpleasant. He was certain he could change that.

Sitting on the dingy, dark green plastic seat of the train car, he giggled to himself, chest puffing up as he straightened. They'd been man and wife for eight whole days. Movies and songs said love was supposed to be somewhere between serendipitous and fated. A happy accident that was meant to be. Lying awake at night, he would find himself wondering where they were on that scale. If the emotions swirling through him - the excitement of belonging, the fear of fucking up - were what every newlywed felt. Then Y/N would snuggle closer in her sleep, murmur nonsense into his skin, and for a few minutes he'd be at peace.

Years had been spent trying to figure out who he was. Trying to find an identity, his role within the world. While he was still searching, it had been far easier to become accustomed to the role of "husband" than he'd dreamed.

Teaching his wife about events across the city had been a delight. Gotham Village's Annual Costume Extravaganza was a parade that went all the way to Gotham Square. He'd participated a couple of times, never formally registering but slipping into the clown section. It had been exhilarating. Had allowed him to pretend, for a little while, that he was being seen. That the crowds lining the sidewalks were cheering for him. Signs for extravagant balls were plastered on billboards and lampposts throughout the streets; he'd have gladly attended and shown her off. A haunted house was being held in a building in his old neighborhood, a fundraiser for the orphanage. He hadn't brought that up.

In the end, once he'd explained trick-or-treaters went from apartment to apartment, they'd decided on a cozy evening at home. The details had been left to her. Whatever she'd plan, he'd love it. He wondered what she'd disguise herself as. Would she be a sexy devil or nurse, like he'd seen on a sit-com? The notion sparked a fire in his cheeks.

Given how busy he'd be, he'd stay dressed as plain, old Carnival. Part of him regretted accepting two gigs, especially on a Sunday. He would have preferred her company. But he wanted to put the money towards the wedding band he'd put on layaway. (Even though they had one account, he wasn't going to let her chip in for it.) He should already be wearing it for all of Gotham to see.

The lurch of the subway prompted him to rise and grasp the pole grip. His stance widened as it came to a halt, knees bending with the instinct of a man who'd ridden public transportation since he was a boy. As soon as the graffiti-covered doors parted, he stepped out onto the platform and ascended the stairs, eager to share his new insurance information with Dr. Ludlow.

~~~~~

Scratchy violins and the hum of a theremin. Shrill shrieks and cracks of thunder. A cackle resounded, then a pipe organ, playing a melody in a minor key.

There was no doubt about it. Halloween spirit had saturated 4A.

NCB's Movie Marathon Mayhem had begun at 10:00 AM. Y/N had had it on since getting out of the shower, hoping to catch a horror classic while she decorated the apartment and prepared Bloody Mary mix. As she hung cotton batting between the television's rabbit ears, creating a long, narrow spider-web, she realized they were only playing cheesy B-movies. Giant insects threatening buildings. Science experiments gone wrong. Alien invasions. Oh well. At least she wouldn't have to pay much attention to get the gist of the plots.

The orange plastic platter, black bats along its edges, had been an impulse buy. She thought its array of sugary skeletons, candy bracelets, and Jolly Jack chocolate bars would be well received. But having seen only one or two kids in the lobby, she had no idea how many children lived in their building. She hoped she'd bought enough.

The cardstock window decorations she'd found were festive and matched Arthur's sweet nature. One portrayed a warted, green witch flying on a broom past a full moon. On the other, a ghost and mouse shared a pillowcase of candy and wished a "Happy Halloween." She held the tape dispenser between her teeth as she stuck them to their white front door.

Just then, the elevator dinged. Glancing to her left, she saw Arthur stroll down the cheerfully lit hallway. Buoyant expression on him, despite his white, blue, and red make-up being streaked from sweat. Striped prop bag on his shoulder and carved pumpkin cradled in his arms. "The store owner was going to throw it out," he explained with a half hug. "But he let me have it as a tip."

Classic, triangular eyes evoked the annual carving contest her parents had taken part of back home. Her father had been well-known in the community, being the town's only doctor. Entering the competition had been expected. They'd never won but enjoyed it all the same. Y/N had picked out the patterns and scooped out the squash's slimy innards. Her mother had baked the seeds. Peals of their laughter echoed in her ears, and a lump formed in her throat.

She swallowed hard against it. Dammit, Y/N. Get it together. This was supposed to be a special night for Arthur and her. She needed to distract herself. One of his curls peeked out from under his bald-cap and green wig. She twirled a strand around her finger. "With that toothy grin, it just might be your twin," she said. He pecked her temple, the kiss sticky from greasepaint. She lit the half-melted candles using his red lighter and put the jack-o-lantern just outside their door.

While he freshened his paint in the bedroom, she slinked into the bathroom to change. Arthur's and her routines were closely aligned; keeping her costume hidden had not been easy. The headband holding the furry cat ears was quite stiff, its teeth a tad sharp on her scalp. Once it was in place, she hid it under her hair. The lint on her form-fitting stretch top and leggings reminded her why she rarely wore all black. She retrieved her brown eyeliner from the nearby shelf and started in on her whiskers.

Arthur's footsteps neared, heavy due to his clown shoes, and Y/N turned to lean back on the sink. His thin lips parted as he scanned her body, forehead furrowed in pleasant surprise. His reaction planted a seed of bliss in her belly, one that bloomed every second they regarded each other. The lunch she'd have to spring for was well worth the pink shells of his ears. Eventually, she held out the fluffy, wired tail and a safety pin. "Would you pin this just below my waistband?"

Fingers grazing hers, he took it and sat on the toilet lid. He cupped her hips and pulled her closer, positioned her until the dampness of his breath hit a bare sliver of her back. "Hold still," he murmured, his voice sending a tingle through her. At his gentle ministrations, the spandex of her leggings felt snugger. "Did you- Did you read my journal?"

A faint click of metal as the pin closed. "No." She colored the tip of her nose, frowned at how lackluster the shade was. "I'd never do that. Even if I'm dying for a preview of your material. Why?"

"No reason." A soft huff, his shy smile clear in his answer. "I have an idea." He handed her a washcloth and hurried out of the room. She was patting her face dry when he returned, a fine tipped brush and pot of black greasepaint in his hand. "This'll look better."

Her brow arched. She'd only had her make-up done once; Patricia had invited her when they'd first met. Such an outing was not her preference, but Y/N had accepted, being new in town and wanting to learn about her colleague. There'd been champagne at the counter, which she'd sipped until she'd spent too much on eyeshadow and apricot scrub. The next morning, she'd put the products and a note on Patricia's desk: "I'll never forgive you. Thanks!"

The heat radiating from Arthur prompted her to close the gap between them. She craned her neck towards him, slid her palms to his yellow vest until she held him just below his ribs. His forefinger curled under her chin, lifted it slightly and angled it to the right. The cool, wet brush met her fevered skin. The dusty smell of the greasepaint blended with a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and traces of his sweat. She licked her lips.

The vibration of his chuckle was felt before heard. "I really like your costume," he said lowly. Two more ticklish caresses of the bristles on the apple of her cheek. "If you're not careful, I might werewolf and go wild."

She stretched closer to him, the fervor in his tone going straight to her center. Though he'd been growing bolder, his cocky side wasn't often revealed. She wanted it, thirsted to see more of the wild horse kicking inside him. Her touch ran over his chest, until she dipped under his black suspenders and pulled. "Are you going to gobble me up?"

Teasing strokes on her nose. "Maybe." Then his thumb whispered along her jaw and guided her face upwards. His kiss was supple, slow, a drag of his mouth as his tongue sought entry. She yielded, the simmer of anticipation bringing her to her toes. He groaned deeply and palmed her thigh, then fondled the curve of her rear-

The ding-dong of the doorbell halted them. He lifted his head and laughed, gaze sparkling. "I got paint on you."

She twisted in his arms and looked in the mirror. The whiskers caught her eye, embellished at the ends with dainty curlicues - his skill never ceased to impress her. Red brightened her lips and streaks of white were on her cheek. "It's all right. They'll just know I've been necking with a clown."

~~~~~

The sound of the bell continued. Over and over and over. More than it ever had in Otisburg. There were mummies, ghosts, a couple of skeletons. A superhero proudly displayed his red cape and blue tights, and a kid in her karate robe went on about her yellow belt. A tiny clown, too young to walk, was brought by her sister. As Arthur made funny faces, the baby cooed and tried to take his red, foam nose. Arthur parted with it gladly.

Only one member of the Wayne family appeared, slicked back hair and pompous pout making the disguise complete. The man accompanying the boy introduced himself as their upstairs neighbor and shook their hands. After one look at Y/N, he nudged Arthur's bicep. "So, she's the one keeping half the building up at night. Good on you, pal." Arthur blinked in confusion as she ushered the guy away, red-faced and muttering about his nerve.

Arthur was overly generous, giving out fistfuls of sweets while taking a few extra seconds to gather his nerves and compliment the costumes he liked best. It felt good to interact with strangers without constantly second guessing himself. Y/N would rub his arm or kiss his shoulder and tell him what a great job he was doing. "Kids are easy," he said, refilling the candy dish. But he reveled in her praises, anyway. And the knowledge that meeting the neighbors was going well.

Clean-up required little effort. The jack-o-lantern sat on their kitchen table, flames flickering as the wicks burned away. The door decor was packed safely for use next year. His plaid blazer was slung over the back of a dining chair and his wig was off. Y/N's decision to leave her whiskers on pleased him - she made a damn sexy cat. He pocketed the last few pieces of candy to snack on during the remainder of the evening.

The Sunday Night Special Presentation she'd picked out, a made-for-TV horror movie, began at 9:00 PM on GBC. Most of its airtime was punctuated by her tipsy snickers and legal wisecracks, which was typical when they watched something stupid. Yet, as the show went on, she grew quieter, barely speaking between sips of her third cocktail. As they sat on the sofa, her posture stiffened. Forearms crossed over her breasts. Her nails dug into her upper arm.

The change started two-thirds of the way into the show, when the plot about a doll running amok twisted into a story about a professional woman trying to assert herself against the demands of her mother. Against the expectations of availability. To fight for the simplicity of having dinner and peace and quiet. It resonated with him, which felt weird. Especially when the film cut to black, the implication being the mother would meet a violent end at the hands of her possessed daughter.

A cheerful jingle came on. Puerto Rico was a direct flight from Gotham Airport, it advertised, a flight that lasted "two hours and fifteen tropical minutes." They should get out while the weather was still good. The juxtaposition of mood broke him out of his ponderings. He flicked off the blaring television with the remote. Then he heard Y/N sniffling.

She set her glass on the coffee table, a slight tremble in her hand. "I need some air," she whispered as she rose, then went out onto the fire escape.

Arthur rubbed his thigh and pressed his lips together. He wasn't used to seeing her cry. Not from sadness. Should he follow her? Give her time? Both had worked previously, depending on the situation. But he wasn't sure what had upset her, what situation they were in now.

Exhaling sharply, he grabbed her glass and dumped the rest of the drink down the kitchen sink. Rinsed their dinner plates and put the slow cooker in the fridge. When he'd finished making decaf coffee ten minutes later, she still hadn't returned. He ambled towards the ajar glass door and stepped out.

Moonlight outlined her shapely figure and reflected off her hair, the silver a contrast to the orange glow of the streetlamps illuminating her face. Her stare seemed fixated on the street below. He followed it to see a group of ghouls and goblins spraying shaving cream on a shop window. A couple, one he'd see occasionally when out for a cigarette, walked down the sidewalk. A woman was half-carrying a drunk man towards a bus stop.

Upon clearing her throat, Y/N spoke. "I may not look like it, but I had a great time with you tonight. The movie just got to me." Relieved, Arthur sidled next to her, wrapped his arm about her back. Her head fell to his shoulder and she smoothed her hand over his stomach. "I don't mean to hide from you. Someday you'll know the details of my earlier life." She scoffed. "When I'm ready to think about them." He entwined their fingers and kissed her hairline, avoiding the wired tips of her cat ears.

Shivering, she took a shaky breath. "There are no skeletons in my closet. Only disappointments." Her voice cracked as she beamed at him, cupped his cheek, and pressed her face to his. "Knowing I'd get to have you would have made those years so much easier."

He held her tightly, massaging between her shoulders. She'd been speaking about herself, but he couldn't help thinking it was about him, too. His years with Penny. His stints in Arkham. The loneliness, the isolation, the endless anger and yearning to be more than a speck of dirt no one cared for. His journal was full of questions about where the hell his one and only was. If he'd known she'd be real, tangible instead of a figment, would existence have hurt less?

Wincing, he tried to push through those thoughts. To focus on her instead of himself. What mattered was that Y/N needed him. Perhaps a joke would cheer her. "I was thinking the other night of how easy it is to smile around you," he said. "You tickle my funny bone." Amusement bubbled in her throat, music to his ears. She released a contented sigh and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

Peaceful stillness ensued as the minutes passed. Though the breeze was chill, goosebumps forming on his pale skin, her affection kept his heart warm. His fingertips rubbed circles into her lower back, and she offered a pleasured hum. Across the way, footsteps pounded. He glanced to see a kid darting up the street, plastic pumpkin pail in tow. The boy's scream was filled with boundless energy: "Happy Halloween, Gotham!"

Snorting, Y/N took Arthur's hand and led him inside. The cheap tail she wore bounced with every exaggerated swivel of her hips. "I've behaved all evening, which your werewolf comment made extraordinarily difficult." She looped her arms around him and flashed a come-hither stare. "May I have a goodie?"

The scrape of her nails on his scalp coiled a knot in his abdomen. "Aren't you supposed to say 'trick-or-treat?'" he asked huskily.

"Your pussycat needs a petting or two." She closed the bedroom door behind them. "Maybe even a mauling."

His brows shot up on a hitched giggle. Then he palmed her hip while she started in on his buttons. Before she got too far, he traced a whisker with the pad of his thumb. Let their foreheads meet and pecked her eyelids. "Only if you give me something good to eat." He pressed into her, his enjoyment relentless, not waiting for her reply before devouring her mouth.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve, @howdylilflower, @sweet-nothings04, @stephieraptorr, @rommies, @fallenstarsabyss, @gruffle1, @octopus-plasma, @tsukiakarinobara, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile, @another-day-in-chuckletown, @hhandley80, @jokerownsmysoul, @mrscarnival

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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jojo-reader-hell · 4 years

Note

imagine being Jotaro's twin, and you wake up one morning. You look in the bathroom mirror, only to realize you have fangs, claws, & slit pupils. You scream for Jotaro, who is groggy from the lack of sleep. He glares at you, "wait that's it? For fuck's sake, i thought it was a spider or something." Then he yells for your dear mother. "It's y/n, they're finally going through their transformation." Holly squeals before rushing over to you. (It turns out the Joestar family is a werewolf clan!)

I loved this idea so much that I kinda got carried away writing for it! I definitely would like to turn this into a two parter, so keep an eye out for the AO3 link! Until then, hope you enjoy!

Werewolf!Joestars and Werewolf!Reader

...

“WAAAAAAAAAAAH!! BUBBA! BUBBA!”

Big brother instincts activated, Jotaro slammed the door to his room wide open, nearly putting a hole in the wall and causing the door to dangle haphazardly off its hinges. His footfall was heavy, bounding through the hallway and nearly knocking down the decorative plants. In the back of his mind, whatever wasn’t preoccupied with getting to you was worrying about his mother’s nagging about the second door he would have to break to find you. But door be damned, he had to get to you. You never screamed this loud unless something was terribly wrong...

He skidded to a halt in front of the open bathroom, thankful for once in his life that you had the nasty habit of leaving it open, and saw you curled into a ball on the floor. Jotaro wasted no time in dragging you up to sit on your knees and asking where it hurt, only to stop dead in his tracks when he got a good look at you.

“B-Bubba!” You whined, an unmistakable edge to it as you clutched your face. “I’m ugly!”

“You’ve always been ugly.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and you only cried harder and more violently, a little blood dribbling out of your mouth where extra canines had been growing over your normal set.

“What’s happening to me?!” You wailed. “Everything hurts, my mouth is bleeding, my hands are furry, there’s a fuzzy thing on my butt and when I tried to pull it off I scratched myself with my nails-...”

“Good God, just shut your yap already!” Jotaro snapped. “You’re alright, stand up by yourself!”

“Jotaro! What’s wrong?! What’s happened??”

The pattering of your mother’s slippers echoed throughout the hallway, she nearly slid on the wood floors when she came to an abrupt halt, watching in horror as Jotaro yanked you up violently by the arm and tried to get you to stop screaming and wailing. Evidently it wasn’t working, because the louder he barked orders at you to shut up the harder you cried, yelping every time he yanked you the wrong way.

“Fuckhead over here is going through the change!” He answered back, as though you’d merely gotten a zit. Jotaro was dangling you by your arm painfully, and you tried clawing at him to make him put you down.

Nothing bullied him into letting go until a dark look crossed your mother’s face.

“Let go Jojo.”

She used a voice you never heard before, and even more shocking was the fact that Jojo finally listened for once instead of bullying her and calling her horrible names. He immediately dropped you into her care, feigning disinterest like a scolded pet.

“Oh, my baby!” She cooed, a huge smile coming over her face as she took over trying to get you to stand on your own. “It’s going to be all ok now, sweet baby. Nothings wrong, and you’re not ugly. You’re growing up!”

“H-hwat???” You blubbered, acting like a child as your mother mopped up your face with her apron, not caring that your bloody mouth was staining the white fabric.

“Look baby! Look how pretty your fur is, oh... how cute, I hope you have the same pattern as your grandpa. Even your little tail... we need to get you all nice and brushed.”

“But I... I don’t understand!” You couldn’t wrap your head around it, your mother was more concerned with gushing over you and reassuring you about how cute you were, and all you could do was babble questions until your brother put it bluntly for you:

“You’re turning into a wolf stupid.”

“Jojo, we need to be encouraging.”

Your mother’s voice had a certain conviction to it, another mystery wrapped in an enigma as she glanced disapprovingly at her son. She began to tell you all about the changes that would take place over the next few months, asking if you remembered those puberty videos they showed you in school when you were eleven, and you did, quite vividly if you were being honest. Every month during the full moon you’d just go through the motions of transforming, until your body got used to it and the process became as natural to you as breathing. She assuaged your fears: no you weren’t going to become a bloodthirsty animal. No you weren’t a danger to your family. No you weren’t going to suddenly find other wolves attractive or any other silly fear you had. All it was she said was an extra step in growing up you had to take, kind of like puberty 2.0. Well, it was sort of like that for the Joestars anyway, going back as far as your great great grandfather’s parents, the mythological monster part coming from his mother Mary who was one of the last of the werewolves. The lineage was diluted, hence the pain at the beginning that was inevitable, because in order to be with her beloved for all eternity she had to bite him to turn him, thus every Joestar since had to experience a rather horrific baptism by blood when they came of age. It could have been avoided if the lineage had been kept human free, and you would have been born a fluffy puppy instead of a baby, but then where would we be if we couldn’t choose the ones we loved your mother reasoned.

“The only tricky little detail is keeping the secret of our immortality. Usually when we’ve felt enough is enough here among humans, we just pop off into the woods and enjoy our nice long life with our loved ones. You’ll even age differently, your face will stay wrinkle free, and the only difference is your hair will turn grey!”

“Wait a minute... you mean we can’t die and we just leave society to live in the woods?”

“Uh huh!”

“Like, the actual woods around our house?”

“Of course baby. Everyone lives in the woods, who do you think you hear howling every now and again when the moon is full? If you’d like, you can spend your moon time with your Grandpa and Granny, or Papa Jonathan and Momma Erina will be there to take care of you too!”

The way your mother put it, it was like being a werewolf was as simple as going on a fucking family vacation every month.

When the pain came back you didn’t care to even acknowledge the insanity of your mother’s nonchalance. All you knew was that it felt as though somebody was taking you by the arms and legs trying to yank them out of the sockets.

“It hurts...” you cried, “Can I please have something for the pain?”

“No honey... Now that it’s taking over, we can’t give you any anti inflammatories for the pain, it’s too dangerous. We have to be very careful with certain foods too, no chocolates or onions, no coffee, no more cooked bones, no nuts, no avocado. You’ll have to be very careful with your diet from now on, those things can make you very sick. But I have an idea, maybe it will help if you shift completely and we get some food in you.”

“How do I do that?”

“Just relax, don’t tense up because of the pain, it just has to happen. Breathing helps as well, if you want, mommy can shift with you and I’ll show you how to breathe.”

She shooed Jotaro out of the bathroom, giving him some sort of a nonverbal signal that made him snap to attention, for obvious reasons she explained that it would be best to do it in private. You could hear Jotaro on the phone with someone, informing them of your latest development with the Joestar gene and instructing them to bring lots of something, whatever it was you didn’t catch it because your mother closed the door behind her. She helped you change and folded your clothes painstakingly, holding your hands in hers as she instructed you to keep your eyes trained on hers.

“In and out sweetheart.” She told you, inhaling through the nose and exhaling out through the mouth. “In... and out...”

She made a soft sound with her pursed lips, and you mimicked her even though your body was in excruciating pain. Eventually you could actually feel the smoothness of the transition, once the tension left your body you noticed the pain had disappeared and your bones just simply shifted out of place and wherever they needed to go. When you finally came to, you noticed that the world was a whole hell of a lot bigger, a fact that made you completely terrified. Your whole body was seized by shaking and it only made your fear worse, but when you looked at the mass of cream colored fur in front of you, you actually voiced your fear with a loud yelp.

“Baby, shhh, it’s mama.”

A large wet nose pressed against your soft cheeks, a large warm wet tongue lathed at your face, so familiar... you felt like you remembered something like this, maybe when you were a baby, a memory of you cold and wriggling against the same warm cream colored fur surfaced and soothed you somewhat. When you finally looked up, you immediately recognized the warm green eyes staring lovingly back at you.

“Mama...” your voice was startling, almost high pitched. When you looked down at yourself, you noticed little beany paws where your feet and hands should have been, completely covered head to toe in fuzz the color of your hair.

Making yourself go cross eyed revealed a soft muzzle and little black nose, but it hurt to focus too much and you had to stop, turning to the side and noticing a soft rotund puppy body where your own used to be. You were still the same size, but when compared to the adult body of your mother, you felt incredibly small. She was gigantic, rear end pressing against the door as she struggled to stoop in the bathroom, a huge bushy tail nearly the size of your body thumping against the sink and displacing a couple of toothbrushes.

“It’s okay baby. There’s a lot of changes happening, and when you’re born into it you’re luckier than if you’d been bitten like your Granny Suzie or your great Granny Lisa Lisa. Everything is gradual, and you’re not going to burn so much energy. It’s so much easier going through this, you will be smaller than the rest of us for a while until you’re out of high school, but that’s ok. It’s just like growing up all over again, except this goes much faster, isn’t that exciting?”

You couldn’t help the whine that escaped as she mouthed your neck and picked you up. Being dangled from this height didn’t exactly help you when you were already a fearful person to begin with, and it certainly didn’t help that your mother was now the size of the mega fauna they had at the museums. But it was all a matter of perspective. You’d never seen a wolf this close before, only from far away at the zoo on rare occasions, and certainly not from the perspective of being small enough that her mouth almost dwarfed your body, her hot breath steaming on your pelt as she scratched at the closed door with a large paw.

When it opened, Jotaro was there, looking far too annoyed at the fact that you made such a fuss about your changes. He raised an eyebrow as your mother tried to wriggle out of the narrow door frame into the hall with you still in her mouth, and even more shocking was the fact that after she’d placed you delicately on her oversized bed to snuggle with you, you saw Jotaro just close his eyes and lose himself into his own impossibly large wolf form, not caring that his clothes ripped. He laid his head next to you, nosing you as your mother’s bushy tail encircled you protectively, and she began to clean you in a similar manner to a cat cleaning a kitten. Was it the same for canids? Probably. You’d never owned a dog before and suddenly you were very aware of why this was. Especially the way your brother acted, he was a grumpy asshole as a person, you could only imagine what he was like as a monster.

Curiosity compelled you to look around the room, everything so different from a wolfy perspective. Your perception of colors was vastly different, as was the way you perceived the room itself. Often you’d find yourself staring at things that seemed to mystify the primal part of your brain. You were compelled to gnaw at the tassels on your mother’s bedspread, but her gentle nip on your ear discouraged you. Things you knew to be red and green were nearly invisible, fading to grey or an interesting shade of yellow that you didn’t think could exist. Her dresser table interested you the most, as you could see your little ears in the reflection. Lifting your head up a little bit more however, that was a different story as the human reasoning part of your brain suddenly seemed to shut down.

“MAMA!” Your voice was a shrill scream!

You stood on your hind legs and began screaming, hackles raised and your poor little tail between your legs. The sounds you made were so loud and scared that it made your brother flinch.

“MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA MAMA! THERES A MONSTER ON THE DRESSER! THERES A MONSTER ON THE DRESSER! MAMA HELP ME THERES A MONSTER ON THE DRESSER!”

...

“Oh that’s adorable Jonathan! Where’d you find that?”

“It was mine when I was a pup!” Jonathan Joestar said, a look of pride on his face as Suzie examined the tiny blue collar with a brass bell he had in his hands. “My mother got it for me because I had a tendency to wander, this way Holly can use it on the little one. Jotaro was too big for it, but I figure it’s just the size for my little bundle of joy!”

“I figured it would be best to just bring meat, and lots of it considering how ravenous of an appetite Jotaro had when he turned.” Joseph Joestar insisted, he and his wife carrying two large fresh kills apiece.

“We can’t feed the baby that!” Jonathan’s wife Erina looked scandalized, holding far too many sweaters that looked similar to the ones pet owners got for their spoiled dogs. “We’re just going to get the little one dirty, and then Holly’s going to have to clean up the mess later on after we make sure the little one is asleep.”

“Once we get the little one fed, then we can give out presents, matter of fact it was very smart of Joseph to bring so much. Whatever the little one doesn’t eat, Holly and Jotaro can have.” reasoned Jonathan’s son, a hulking creature named George who was every bit the spitting image of his father, and the only one of the bunch comfortable enough in the open to remain in wolf form. “Better to be full of food than stressing about the new changes on an empty stomach. Especially if the two of them had to waste energy and shift from the sound of Jotaro’s phone call. It wouldn’t hurt to be fully shifted when we see them either. After all, Holly is the alpha, it would be helpful for her to be surrounded by familiar faces instead of a bunch of humans.”

They all agreed, stopping short of the little cabin in the woods where Holly lived with her two children, helping each other to change out of clothes and stashing them in strategic places on the porch before transforming into creatures so large some of them had to hang back, unable to fit on the small space of the porch. Jonathan took the lead, a smile on his canine face as he politely scratched at the door.

“Jojo!” He barked, tail thumping wildly against the wall as he scratched the door again. “Jojo it’s us! Please let us in!”

He was interrupted by the shrill sound of a puppy’s yelping, the door flying open only for the mega wolf to be nearly bowled over by a very frightened young werewolf being chased by an alpha female.

“HELP! HELP! MONSTER!” You cried, taking off into the woods as your mother chased at your heels.

“Baby! Baby please come back! It was only your reflection! There’s no monster in the house!” Your mother barked after you.

“MONSTER!”

A very irritated and nearly naked Jotaro appeared at the door much to everyone’s shock, scratching his rear through the leftover shreds of his pants.

“Good grief, at least you brought me something to eat...”

There wasn’t even time to scold him for taking a large portion of the kill, he simply took it and went back indoors, dragging it off into a corner to gorge while Jonathan tried to help your mother chase you down.

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veridium · 4 years

Text

fake happy

Well, whaddya know! The College AU is back, baby! Unfortunately June was pretty much hell in a handbasket, so writing took a backseat. But, we are far from done. Thank you to everyone for sighting tight, and to @bitchesofostwick for being a very patient co-author.

So, where were we? Ah, yes, the holiday weekend from hell. On with the show! Title bought to you by a great Paramore song.

masterpost // last chapter

“Hey baby cakes!”

The moment she hears the shrill greeting whilst getting out of her car in the sandstone-colored driveway, Olivia knows she’s in a chapter of Dante’s Inferno. All the calmness she had with Ellinor earlier that day is gone; it is easier said than done enduring four days in the house of Paula Sinclair.

“Hey,” she rushes over her shoulder, pulling the side lever to release the trunk where her bags are kept. Just two, one of clothes and toiletries and the other books and supplies to do assignments. She’ll need the preoccupation as an excuse for the gauntlet of trials her Mom will invite her to.

As she’s filing her luggage out onto the driveway, she sees her Mom’s shadow approaching. She glances and sees her in all her glory: an olive green sundress with one of those straw pool hats. She was probably out basking in the sun all afternoon before this. Olivia is surprised she thought to put down whatever spiked beverage she must have had with her to come outside and greet her only child.

“Did you have a safe drive? You certainly did not rush to get home safe,” Paula says, halting and crossing her arms.

Olivia slams the trunk closed and huffs, slinging one bag’s strap over her shoulder and the other on her opposite forearm. “I woke up late, and had to help Ellinor pack.” Sorry, Ellinor.

“Ellinor! I will miss her this year.” A lie said out of convenience. The whole time Ellinor stays with them, Paula shoots her peculiar questions about her personal life or her political views. Ellinor knows better now after these last couple of years how to play them off, but Paula can’t help but size people up. It’s how she cultivates all her complaints.

“I will, too,” Olivia lets out as she makes her way to the front door, past the splendorous potted plants and fake green grass turf. Her Mother saunters behind her through the open door.

Once inside Olivia notices what’s missing, and sets her smaller bag down.

“Wh--”

“No no, do not just leave that there! Take it to the mud room or your bedroom.”

Olivia bites back a groan and turns around to face Paula as she shuts and locks the large-ass, gaudy-ass front door. “Fine. Where is Nemo?”

“Nemo?”

“...the dog, Mother.”

“Nemo! Oh, psh,” she waves her acrylics. “He is off in the yard. I kept him outside because the carpet steamers came this morning. You know how his muddy little paws are! Now, do I not get a hug?”

Olivia tenses up from head to toe, seeing her Mother coming in for the hug she didn’t wait for permission for. At least Nemo isn’t mysteriously gone -- she’s read too many horror stories online of people’s parents being complete monsters about their old family pets dying, and not telling the children who live elsewhere -- but Paula keeps Nemo out in the yard for days at a time when she gets the carpets cleaned. He will need company, and not just the husband going out and practicing his golf swing adjacent to him.

Oh, right, there’s a husband around here.

Paula hugs her with her arms draped over Olivia’s shoulders, rather than around her waist like a good bear hug. Something Dad would know how to do.

“I imagine Fred is off shooting, stuffing, or smoking something,” she mutters over her Mother’s shoulder, to which Paula gently swats at her shoulder and guffaws.

“No, silly! He’s in the yard with Nemo, your fellow prisoner,” she teases, picking up on Olivia’s dread with her trademark passive aggression. Only three minutes in the door, a new record.

“I didn’t say he couldn’t do those things out in the yard.” Lord knows he has before.

“Where do you think our holiday meal comes from every year?”

“COSTCO, like God and Uncle Sam intended, right?”

“Ugh, Olivia, your humor changes every year you’re at that College. Don’t be so morose.”

She takes a breath and picks up her eyesore of a bag so that it does not further desecrate the sanctity of the foyer, and makes for the curved staircase just across the pristine hardwood. “I’m just tired from the drive, Mom. I’m going to go upstairs and get settled.”

“Okay, and come downstairs soon! I wanna catch up, okay?”

“Yeah, okay!”

She glances behind her but her Mother is already vanished. Sure, catch up, but not too quick! Releasing her bated breath she lurches up the rest of the stairs. The place is heavily renovated from the home it originally was when her parents bought it. In the beginning they didn’t have much -- well, much compared to what Paula has now -- and so their first nest was a fixer upper. Year after year, corny wallpaper became fresh painted walls, and thick upholstered couches handed down from in-laws became brand new installations from the boutiques downtown. Two additions to the place upgraded it from a modest family home to a wannabe mansion. Olivia grew up in this ever-changing little kingdom of improvements, but only when she was a newly-minted adult did she realize she was one of its fixtures.

The one comfort had always been that her Father dwelled there with her. He brought heart and humanity to the kingdom of objects: his muddy shoes by the front door, not the “mud room.” His fishing rods hung up on the garage rack. His barbeque out in the yard. They weren’t all state-of-the-art, but they were his. But, by now, they, too, were all gone. ‘Improvements’ in every stead, including his.

Olivia had one sacrosanct place left, and that was her childhood room. Walking down the hall decorated with big, framed portraits of the family -- none of her Father, though, to be sure -- she found her door, the second one to the right in the west hallway. “West” being the original upstairs hallway, the only hallway, before construction added the one referred to as the “East.” She pushed the ajar door open and slid in to see it as she remembered: the bright lavender purple walls strewn with posters, pictures, and a tapestry up behind her bed. The pearly purple carpet smelled of the carpet cleaner, but it did not mask the smell of vanilla she expected. On the opposite wall from the door, her princess bed complete with ivory white canopy was freshly made. Her bedspread was white, with pillows in alternating shades of green and lilac. Years ago she fought endlessly for her Mother to let her paint her room a darker color than the baby pink it was first. Thanks to her Dad, they “compromised” with purple. Sadly, Paula took that as “the lightest shades of purple” and so it was.

In the details, though, there was Olivia’s rebellion. The posters, Paramore, My Chemical Romance, and an old one from a Sheryl Crow concert she found on Amazon, contrasted the brightness with a grit. To the left by her small balcony doors, her vanity mirror and stool were covered with polaroid pictures, concert tickets, movie ticket stubs, and bracelets. She had taken all of her incriminating, “immodest” makeup with her to college, so all that remained were an old bottle of sunscreen, some pastel eyeshadow palettes, and lip glosses. So many lip glosses.

Olivia dropped her shit in the middle of the floor and made for the reading chair in the far corner, where she collapsed into a curled, reticent ball of conflicted emotions. She predicted this -- she dreaded this -- and now, here she is. The first day is always a test of anxiety, more so than enduring mistreatment. Paula is always good on the first day -- great, sometimes. She is generous, and outgoing, and doesn’t sweat the small stuff. The grueling part comes after the first night ends and she realizes she has to do something with her daughter who isn’t just in for dinner and giggling. That’s when she remembers how she actually feels, and who she actually is. And with no one like Ellinor to buffer and provide excuses for her not standing in one place for too long, it’ll be particularly concentrated.

She slides limply against the plush chair and closes her eyes. It was a stressful drive full of hasty college kids getting home to their more harmonious families. Olivia was in no rush, though. Three trips through various drive thrus surely added time.

Her phone goes off, and she slips her phone out of her back jean pocket.

Ellinor: You ready to walk the plank yet?

Smirking, Olivia replies:

-- I am already keeling over the edge. How is your family?

Ellinor: I nearly did a drop and roll out of Lyssa’s car on the way here, but they’re bearable. They are who they usually are. No surprises, this holiday season!

-- One of these years we’ll be successful enough to buy everyone therapy for Christmas.

Ellinor: No shit, I’m making them pay for mine first.

Olivia is replying when another notification comes up, an instagram like this time, from Maryden. Grinning she taps on it. Maryden finally saw the group pic they all took at the fair: her, Ellinor, Cullen, and then Olivia and Cass in the bottom corner. Olivia had made Cass hold the phone due to height advantage. Her grin expands before it sinks fast.

Ah, fuck.

She pulls up her messages again and sees the one Cassandra sent her while she was driving and unable to check.

Cassandra: Text me when you arrive safe. ❤️

The heart emoji. Olivia’s cheeks turn hot, and she hastily types.

-- Here in purgatory!

The sound of a man shouting something, and then laughing, rings from the balcony windows. Fred must be huffing and puffing about something amusing, like meat or guns. She can’t wait for all his odd comments and attempts to “relate” that almost always devolve into him talking about whatever season of sport he’s onto and her nodding along. Poor man. He makes sea sponges seem like sophists.

Soon after sending, Cassandra replies, an opportunity Olivia doesn’t predict:

Cassandra: Awesome. my Uncle has stopped us for gas, still about 40 minutes out.

-- That’s good. Hopefully you won’t get stuck in rush hour.

Cassandra: My Uncle sucks at navigating traffic, so I wouldn’t bet on it.

-- Lol

Cassandra: You alright?

Olivia is sort of surprised by the question and its sensitivity, albeit direct.

-- Just tired from the drive, that’s all

Cassandra: You love driving. You would drive the entire stretch of the coast highway without blinking once.

Damn, Cassandra. A bold insight. A correct one, too.

-- 🤷🏼‍♀️

Five seconds after she hits send, Cassandra calls her. She nearly drops the phone on the floor, and her slack posture goes full vertical. She checks that the door is closed, only to decide to leap, rush, and lock it just in case. Then she hurries to the farthest corner of the room and hits answer right on the last ring.

“No, Detective, I will not submit to the polygraph.”

Cassandra’s voice rings almost playfully. “Very well, we have other ways of making you talk.”

There’s the hot blush again. “Uh, a-alright, who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?” She hushes a bit, and hopes Cassandra doesn’t notice.

“Nothing! My Uncle is in the gas station doing who-knows-what, so I’m stuck in here, boot and all.”

“I’m not kidding, I saw that Liam Neeson movie, I know how this goes. I have a special set of skills--”

“What do I have to do? Express my distaste for something? Quote Plato?”

“...It would be reassuring.”

Cassandra laughs coyly, and despite everything, it livens her spirit. She didn’t expect Cassandra to be in so playful a mood traveling back home. She was cool but unhappy about it that morning when they parted ways, entertained only by Olivia’s presence and a strong cup of coffee. Without the ability to drive due to her ankle, her illustrious but mysterious Uncle had to be the one to pick her up and take her back to her family.

“I was just calling to check in on you.”

“I thought that was what the texting was for,” Olivia replies more curtly than she intends. She gnaws at her bottom lip.

“Sometimes it is worth the extra effort to call.”

“That is very un-millenial of you, you know. Horrifying.”

“Maybe so. Ugh, what is that man doing?” there’s sounds of Cassandra rustling against the leather seat, probably checking in through the window. “Probably searching for that expensive jerky he gets at Trader Joe’s like it will just magically turn up at an ARCO.”

“Who’s to say it won’t? People of all walks of life can enjoy finer things.”

“Yes, but not just the ‘finer’ things,” she then huffs. “Look, I don’t have much time, so if you aren’t in the mood to talk about what is bothering you, I can let you go and we can talk later.”

“I don’t know if I will be able to. My Mom wants to ‘catch up,’ which in her language means I get a hundred questions and the occasional asinine one from Fred.”

“Fred’s your stepfather, right?”

“He’s...my Mother’s husband.”

“I see.”

She mulls her teeth and looks around aimlessly. Cassandra goes ‘hm’ but nothing else.

“How are you able to talk so much?” Olivia asks, diverting the subject. “Aren’t you worried your family will pry?”

“The good thing about holidays in my family is there are so many people around, you can get a great deal of private time if you are smart enough. Which is exactly what I intend to do. Ugh...he...oh, sorry. I thought my Uncle was coming back, but it was just another man.”

“Yeah, but you said they have superhuman abilities for nosiness.”

“They do. And I have superhuman talents of evasion. They’ll peck and prod about the ankle boot, though. Usually I can slip away to the gym or for a run to get away from them but...of course...can’t do that. Doctors don’t trust me to set foot in a weight room and it’s been weeks since my injury.”

“Cass, it’s been two weeks, almost precisely.”

“I said weeks, didn’t I? Look, overextending is not the same as knowing my limits. They’re the medical professionals, but they don’t live in this body 24/7.”

Olivia grimaces with sympathy, though she can’t say she agrees given how easy it is for Cassandra to throw herself into things without caution. “Uh huh.”

“Ugh, forgive me. I won’t be able to talk everyday, but I would like to try sometimes, okay? I promise it won’t all be about my messed up ankle.”

Olivia smirks. “You’re being very…”

“Very…what?”

Olivia stalls. Is it an asshole thing to do, saying your girlfriend is being more sensitive and caring than usual? Maybe not “more,” but in a different way. An unusual way. She could have really taken Olivia’s hurt feelings over how she acted about her injury. She could be really trying. But now, in the lion’s den, Olivia’s unsure about whether the timing of it is...well, ideal.

“Nevermind, I lost my train of thought,” she excuses. “I appreciate you.”

“It’s no trouble. Now, I think my Uncle is coming back. Ugh, he got a whole bag of things...probably for me. Seeing me with my boot triggered his overprotective nerve extra hard.”

“Oh, no, sour patch kids! The torture!” Olivia teases. An ounce of her regular self bleeds through.

“Very funny. I will text you later. Be safe, alright?”

“Alright. You, too.” She then remembers and slips it in before they hang up: “L-let me know when you get home, too, okay?”

“...O-okay.” There’s a pause, the kind of awkward pause when the thing you say -- the particular thing -- happens. But since they aren’t there yet, it’s full of pause and anxiety.

“Okay,” Olivia takes her turn to smooth it over. “Bye!”

“Bye.”

Hanging up kills the feeling of safety. She looks into the big oval mirror at her dresser vanity and watches her grin crack, then disappear all-together. The scene in her reflected surroundings loses its luster. Even with all the impossibilities, she kind of wishes Cassandra was with her. It almost makes her laugh at herself: what, would she have driven up with her in the passenger’s seat, hear “hey baby cakes!” and smile, saying “hey Mom, here’s my girlfriend! You’re suddenly not biphobic, right? Oh and by the way she’s a Pentaghast, so, there’s that!” and they all retire to the sitting room for tea and introductions. Right.

She turns and sees her unpacked bags, her only company. She rubs her forehead slowly with the back of her hand. She has experience being left to her own devices with her Mother. Hell, she has a lifetime of it with her. A long weekend won’t be anything particularly gruesome, and if it is, well, she’s survived them before.

Fifteen minutes later she has everything organized and put away -- she won’t unpack much, anyway. A quick change into some leggings and a t-shirt, a toss of her hair into a ponytail, and she’s ready to face the music. She’s careful to shut her bedroom door before she descends down the hall and the stairs, betting that her Mother is out in the yard on one of the lounge chairs. She finds her there, indeed lounging, with that missing cocktail restored to her.

Unmoved but always observant, her Mother inquires: “Settled in?”

Olivia puts on her best polite grin and sits down on the lounge chair five feet away. On the grass, Fred is dressed in pastel blue polo and cargo shorts like the overgrown fraternity pledge he is, throwing a frisbee for Nemo. Nemo, the 10 year old yellow lab, who can scarcely go up the stairs without being winded these days. Too bad for Fred the minute Olivia shows herself, the grey-faced dog bounds in his own way over to the long last playmate.

“Nemo! You little prince!” she smiles, crouching down to embrace him. His tail is wagging a million miles per hour, and he fills her face with old dog breath. His tickling gets her to finally laugh.

“Good grief,” she hears her Mom say, “Olivia, don’t let him lick your mouth!”

“I’m fine!” she says through her giggles, rubbing his chest and back as she stands upright. “It won’t kill me.”

“Ugh.”

That joy was short lived. She returns to the chair she chose and does her best to make as little eye contact as possible as she sits and sprawls her legs out. Nemo follows circles around her, tail still going.

“Do we know what the plans are for Thanksgiving?” Olivia asks, expecting the same answer as always. Dinner at home with Fred’s relatives and those in Mom’s family who she isn’t on the outs with, all above the age of 35 for the most part, and vote like it. Another dinner she’ll have to dress way too modestly and matronly for her age in order to fit in for the group photo.

“Well, that is what I wanted to surprise you with,” Paula answers.

Olivia side-eyes her Mom, and delays opening up her phone to scroll through Twitter. “What?”

“We will be having dinner with the family as always, but earlier this week we received a surprise invitation for us to attend a holiday party later on this weekend.”

“You aren’t going to spend the holiday campaigning, are you?”

“‘Campaigning’ has a broad definition, Olivia, and it is never a bad idea to become more familiar with one’s community constituents.”

Olivia frowns and resumes scrolling. Great, likely another fundraiser or gala, not something substantially humble like volunteering time with those genuinely in need, who are also her “constituents.” She saved the label for those she could depend on to write a donation check -- the other 80% of society barely existed.

“I assume then you are expecting me to go?”

There’s a sound of Paula’s magazine of choice turning a page. “What do you think the surprise was?”

“That as much as you would like me to come, that you respect my choice not to so that I can have a quiet, restful weekend at home before Finals are in full swing?”

No response for going out on that limb. The proverbial crickets chirp, and Olivia knows her point was deliberately missed.

“Or,” she corrects herself, “that you want me to go.”

“Yes, silly girl. And for your information, even if I didn’t want you to come, the invitation specifically noted you.”

“P-pardon me?” She looks up.

Paula shakes her head and smiles. “When were you going to tell me you were making friends with the Pentaghast family?”

“I...I-I’m not!”

“You must be, there was a handwritten note in the card, your name and all.”

Olivia can feel a stroke coming on. The heat of the day now feels like a vise around her throat, a semi-truck on her chest. She jerks up and turns to look at her Mother dead on, who is still flipping through her latest issue of Vogue, sunglasses and sunhat and all.

“So...so they wrote me in? Me, specifically?”

“Yes, that is what I said! Goodness, calm down, you’ll give yourself a heat stroke.”

Too late. “Why? Aren’t they one of the big blue families? Why would they want to invite y--”

“Are you insinuating that I do not belong in a bipartisan space? Olivia, I work in one for a living. This whole business of networking is par for the course. In fact, it is a long time coming. The Pentaghasts should be taking the ‘other side’ more seriously. I have been in this town’s political realm for seven years, now. They cannot always hide behind their old money and liberal hypocrisy of “inclusion.””

There is that rhetorical savvy and venom. Quintessentially Paula. Olivia falls back on the lounge chair and stares out into the lawn, mouth open and words lost. Where to begin? Hey, Mom, don’t think so highly of yourself, they’re only inviting you to get to me! Because they want to sniff me out as one of their many daughters’ lovers! You’re full of shit!

“Do I have to go? I am serious about wanting rest. This semester has been a lot, an--”

“A semester that I paid for,” Paula cut in, turning yet another page. “It is restful to be with your family. You should consider yourself lucky, Olivia, that spending time with us is so comfortable. You have this nice home to come back to, and good people to spend time with, and beautiful parties to go to. A girl your age in a lesser position would claw someone’s eyes out for the chance to live the life you get to. Is it so really so demanding?”

The shots to the gut have started early. So much for the easy first day. She wishes even more she could pop her Mother’s balloon, but it would mean ultimate disaster for her in the end. Out in the open Fred is still trying to get Nemo to chase the damn frisbee, clearly aware that he should stay away from the two debating blondes. Olivia rolls her lips shut and tries her hardest to swallow the hunk of pride at the back of her throat, but there’s no room in her stomach. It’s completely filled to the top with anxiety about what it means to be going to this party.

Then it hits her: Cassandra is going to shoot through the roof.

“Fine, Mom. I’ll go.” The clock then starts ticking for her to find a covert way out of it beforehand. She’s dove deep into her head, and only catches half of her Mother’s pleased response.

“--something classy, the party is black tie optional.”

“Okay.”

“I also have an appointment for us to get our nails done tomorrow at 11, so do not sleep in too much.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. She does another fake smile as she pulls up her messages on her phone in order to deploy the distress signal:

-- Change of plan, I need you to call me as soon as you are able. Your family sent an invitation to mine for their big party this weekend. My Mom is insisting we go. Code red.

#fic update #college au #modern thedas au #college!olivia #olivia sinclair #ellinor trevelyan #day & age #WE'RE BACK BABY

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salexectrian-heir · 4 years

Text

Loki: Chapter 11

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E*

Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly.

[Previous Chapter] [Start at the Beginning] [Read on AO3]

Chapter 11

Anise awoke the next morning to find Solas curled around her body with his face buried in her hair. How he was breathing she wasn’t quite sure. She rolled to face him. She untangled herself from his limbs as gently as she could. Apparently she didn’t need to have done so, he literally didn’t budge or notice at all. Out of curiosity, she picked up his arm and let it flop back down. Nothing. She couldn’t stop the smile that formed, nor the quiet bout of laughter that followed. He was dead to the world. She dressed herself, placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, and snuck out the front door--leaving it unlocked so she could get back in later.

No one had bothered her clothes in the laundry room, thankfully. Added to her luck, no one was using any of the machines. The snow must have had everyone taking a day off. She was able to switch everything over into two machines, leaving the others available in case someone did feel like doing chores too. Her stomach grumbled as she shut the last machine door shut.

If she was hungry, then her kitten most definitely was. Poor Loki. She was sure he was used to her being gone for periods of time by now, with her chaotic schedule. But it still stung she hadn’t even said goodbye.

And most likely her lover who lay unconscious and softly snoring where she left him would be hungry too--whenever he decided to return to the waking world. She decided she wanted donuts and coffee but that would mean braving the snow outside. Which meant warmer clothes were called for.

Loki was excited to see her, needless to say. When she cracked open the door to her apartment, his little face was right there. Nose pressing in the slight crack she had made, sniffing loudly and mewling to be let through.

“Silly boy, the door opens inwards.”

She stuck her foot through the crack to block off his point of exit. If he got out, he most surely would get the zoomies and tear up and down the hall, and take up more of her time catching him. She kept him at bay with her foot until she was inside and had the door secured behind her. His little paws immediately found purchase on her pants. He stretched, clutching the fabric and sliding along the floor as she waddled deeper into her apartment. When she got to the kitchen he finally let go, only to weave between her feet demanding to be held. After a few solid minutes of affection, playful bites, and incredibly loud purrs, she set him down to feed him. While he was distracted, she began to bundle up for her trek to the cafe down the street. Adding extra layers on top of her pajamas, a pair of extra thick socks, hat, earmuffs, scarf and boots. She was just able to make it out of her apartment with only one loud mewl of protest.

Her feet sunk into the fresh snow all too easily once outside. It was at least three feet deep, making it more difficult than she expected to maneuver. The street had been plowed, and a few fresh tire tracks suggested people were out and about. She had been lucky to have the day off, after having spent over 120 hours in it last week.

Though the worst of the storm had passed, snow continued to fall. Large flakes floated delicately from the light gray sky at a leisurely pace. The urge to stick her tongue out and catch one was incredibly strong, but she refrained. For all she knew Vivienne could be watching from out of one of the many glass windows at the Hospital just across the street as she passed by. She couldn’t risk it. At least until the hospital would be mostly out of sight.

She let her mind wander as she waded down the sidewalk. The snow continued to fall, the hospital continued to operate, and the world kept moving. Life always kept going. She thought about all the choices that led her to where she was now, how drastically her life had changed, much like the snow changed Haven overnight.

Tipping her head pack, she watched the snowflakes on their descent. Diving off clouds, down to earth, scattering across the wind to where they eventually would find the ground. Or her face. She had risked everything, taking her own dive. Leaving her homeland, her family, an engagement, all for her dream, for her passion. A risk that paid off more than she could have ever imagined. And perhaps most important of all she felt she had truly found herself in the process... she wouldn’t trade that for the world. Despite what it cost her. Her breath came out a wispy cloud in front of her face, going the opposite direction of the snow, disappearing up into the sky.

But she gained so much, too. A new family of residents and their antics, interns and their pestering need to be helpful, and attendings with their drama. Her patients and their faith in her, and her team. A purpose. A loveable nightmare of a kitten that she loved nearly as much as studying medicine.

And even a neighbor who… might just be more...

Memories from the night before flooded her mind. The way he felt as she fucked him, and the sensation of coming completely undone atop him. Her ears burned at the thought, and she shook her head to clear it. It was way too early for that kind of thinking. Even if he did just call her vhenan…

His heart.

She buried her face in her mittens and rubbed her cheeks in circles.

He called you Vhenan. It must have been a mistake… he was tired, and so out of it. He probably won’t even remember having said it...

Vhenan was not a casual pet name. Nor would you call the neighbor you were sleeping around with anything remotely close to that.

And yet.

She had gotten so lost in thought that she arrived at the cafe without realizing. She was just standing in front of the door, hands on her cheeks, taking deep breaths like some bizarre crazed idiot staring vacantly through the glass. For how long, she didn’t know. It could have been two seconds, or two minutes. She pulled herself together and braced for the awkward conversation she was about to inescapably having with the barista.

She couldn’t just casually say, “Oh, don’t mind me, just panicking because I might be falling in love with my old soul of a neighbor who comes with a fuckton of emotional baggage that just might outweigh my own, whom I only met a few months ago, that I met by chance when my kitten stole his underwear while he was doing his laundry” and expect that to go over well.

It even sounded insane in her head.

Graciously, the barista had been on their phone and had not noticed her mental crisis happening just outside. Or perhaps they were pretending and sparing her dignity. She ordered her usual (sixteen ounce vanilla red eye), and paused. For Solas, she eyed the specials...wanting to go with something extremely sweet and decaffeinated. Come to think of it, she had never actually seen him drink coffee before, so she wasn’t even sure if he liked it. He didn’t strike her as someone who particularly liked bitter flavors, given his love for insomnia cookies. She played with a piece of hair that had slipped out from under her hat before finally deciding on a decaf dulce de leche latte (with whip), hoping he would enjoy it.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she left the cafe, with their breakfast in hand. The walk back didn’t last nearly as long, despite the snow coming down a little bit harder. By the time she had gotten back up to his apartment her socks were wet, her hair was wet, and her hands were cold. But still she decided it would all be worth it to get to spend a lazy morning inside with him.

She stomped the snow off her boots outside his door and left them in the hallway. She doubted anyone would steal her size seven sopping boots. Once inside, the distinct sound of the shower running reached her ears. Perfect , she had time to set everything up.

He entered the kitchen dressed in a cotton shirt and a pair of comfortable looking jeans a few minutes later, just as she was pouring her coffee into a mug. He stopped mid step, surprise spreading across his face as he looked at her, then to the table, then settling back on her.

“I thought you had left.”

“Technically, I did,” she gestured to the food. “I figured why not treat ourselves on a snow day.”

“You...” he glanced out the window at the snow that was continuing to dance and swirl its way past the glass, “Anise.”

He appeared by her side in a flash, arm wrapping around her waist, tucking her in close. His body was so warm, heating lingering on his skin from his shower. She practically melded into him. “You should not have, you are freezing,” he kissed her temple and pulled back abruptly. “And wet.”

“Apologies,” she said, a bit breathless if she was being honest. His proximity, the press of his lips, his warmth… would she ever get used to it? Or was her heart always going to react this way when they touched?

He pulled away, taking his wonderful body heat with him. “One moment.”

“Where are you--”

He disappeared and came back with a change of clothes. A sweater and pair of sweatpants. “You might find these more comfortable,” he smirked, “and dry.”

She opened her mouth to protest. Her apartment was only a couple feet away with her own clothes, but… her mouth clicked shut. The chance to wear his …. that wasn’t something she was going to pass up. She went to reach for them, but he set them aside on the counter, eyes locked on her.

He grabbed the hem of her pullover and began to ease it off her. Together, they peeled off each wet layer, him sneaking a chaste kiss each time one was pulled over her head. As she pulled off the last layer, his hands drifted over the bare skin of her stomach. Her breath hitched at the contact. One settled onto her hip, thumbs tracing circles over the dip of hip bones, causing goosebumps to ripple over her skin. The other grabbed the change of clothes.

Right after getting her head through the sweatshirt, his mouth brushed along the shell of her ear before nipping at her bottom lip. “You are far kinder than I deserve.”

She shook her head, pulling her arms through and tugging it down. “Stop talking like that. Let me take care of you, too.”

Luckily the sweatpants had a drawstring, otherwise she would have never been able to keep them up. Not that her pants falling down would be an issue, at least this point in time, given the expression Solas was wearing as he watched her hike them over her ass.

But she really did want to drink her red eye before it got cold.

She waited with baited breath as they sat together, and he took his first sip of his latte. His eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before widening. He took a more generous second sip.

“Do you like it?”

Solas blinked. “To my surprise, I do not hate it.”

She laughed, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It’s sweeter than I expected.”

“It’s also decaffeinated. I wasn’t sure… I’ve never seen you drink coffee before so I figured it would be a safe option.”

“Yes, normally I avoid it, but I will gladly take this over tea.”

Anise made a face at him. She loved tea. “What’s wrong with tea?”

“I detest the stuff,” he said in a flat tone, but the edge of his mouth quirked up the tiniest bit.

Anise feigned a gasp and set aside her coffee. “I see. Well, I must be going then.”

For a fraction of second, confusion flitted across his features, before he realized she was teasing. “I can’t believe that is what would send you running, after everything else you’ve learned about me.”

She playfully bumped into his shoulder, “I jest. It just means more tea for me.”

Solas rolled his eyes and smiled into his latte. The subject drifted to how Anise had found the cafe as they sipped their drinks. She explained how everyone at the hospital hated the hospital coffee, how it always tasted watered down and stale, and how the machine almost never worked properly. And after one particularly grueling week as an intern, Anise had gotten so fed up fighting with the machine she stormed outside and went for a walk. And just so happened to stumble upon the hole in the wall cafe a few blocks down. They fell into companionable silence, finishing up their donuts.

“Anise.”

She met his unwavering grey eyes and her stomach started doing somersaults.

“Thank you, I cannot express enough of my gratitude to truly capture how much I appreciate…everything you do, and this,” he gestured to the breakfast before them, “but also… for last night.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “You don’t have to thank me for that Solas, I wanted you too.”

He shook his head, smile creeping onto his face. “Not only for the sex Anise. For your presence. For… accepting me in the condition I was in. I was not ready to talk about it then, and you respected my boundary.”

Her heart clenched.

“Of course, Solas.”

He wrapped his slender fingers around the edge of his cup, and stared into its empty contents.

“There was an… incident at work.”

Anise placed a hand on his arm. “What kind of incident?”

She felt him stiffen beneath her palm.

“One between myself and the CEO.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

All it took was a gentle squeeze and he launched into the story of how he had been called into strategy meetings with the Vice Presidents and CEO.

“It was awkward, draining, and irritating,” he sighed, his tension evident in his rigid posture.“In theory, I shouldn’t have even been there given the level of my current position, but in reality they value my experience and tenure. If…I had made wiser choices earlier in my career, it would have put me on track to be in the Research and Development Vice President position.”

As if sensing her question, he cast a glance aside at her and said, “In layman's terms, it’s the highest position a scientist can hold.”

“I openly disagreed with our CEO, albeit a bit heatedly during the meeting. Perhaps I should have kept my opinion to myself, but I am not one for keeping silent when I believe I can offer a better solution.” He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Saying our illustrious leader disliked my outspokenness would be an understatement. So would calling what I said simply a disagreement, but I digress.” He pushed aside his coffee. “He cornered me after work. Tempers flared, I insulted him, and…”

It was hard to picture him being easily angered, he certainly never showed her that side of him. Snarky, yes. Annoyed? For sure. But she had never been the target of his ire before, she was still getting to truly know him. Cracking that reserved mask of his, one week at a time. She listened attentively, nodding for him to continue. When he didn’t, she prompted him. His brows knit together.

“He punched me.”

“What! Solas! ”

She was on her feet before she registered what she was doing. She cupped his chin, delicately turning his face towards her. She scanned his face for bruising. How could she not have noticed? She was a doctor for fucking Sylaise’s sake.

“It barely landed. It was in terrible form, and didn’t leave much of a mark,” he reassured her, tugging her hand away from his face. “It happened on the second day, so I’ve had plenty of time to recover.”

“I hope you reported this,” Anise said, horrified.

She knew the answer to that based on his body language alone. “You didn’t… why not ?”

“I considered it, but…” he shrugged, “It happened outside of work. I fear it would only put more strain on the relationship I have with him. He clearly is not over what happened between his wife and myself. And...” Another mirthless grin. “I am prideful, hot headed, and foolish, Anise. I instigated.”

“I don’t approve but,” she leaned forward and kissed his forehead, “but I will stand by your decision. It’s not fair. You took the consequences of your actions in stride, he shouldn’t get to continue to act this way towards you. It’s entirely unprofessional.”

“It is. The rest of the week was just...” he shook his head, “painful.”

He stood and began to clean up their breakfast at the sink.

Following him over with their cups, “Why don’t you leave, work for a different company? One where you can be in the labs again?”

He took them from her and rinsed them out. “Letting go of the past is… easier said than done.”

She came up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his torso, placing her head between his shoulder blades. “I know. I just want you to be happy.”

He took a deep breath and turned around in her arms.

“When I am with you,” he smiled, and it was a genuine one this time, “ I am.”

#solavellan #solas #solas x lavellan #solavellan fanfiction #dragon age fanfiction

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ask-thegoatbro · 7 years

Text

Training with Father.

Today was the day that his father had promised him he would teach his son on how to do the family's unique fire magic. Asriel enters his father's garden and across from him was his father who looked worried about his son learning such magic that requires such responsibility. His father spoke first.

“Asriel, I want to make sure. Do you really want to learn? Do you think you can handle what I am prepared to teach you, my son?”

Asriel nods. “Yes, dad. One day, I want to be able to fight for good, to fight to protect those I love and make everyone happy.”

He said as his grey eyes with its shine look towards his father expression shifted to a small smile.

“Your words make me confident that you will make the right choices with this power. Gosh, it reminds me when I was your age Asriel.” Asgore let out a soft laughter while his son was surprised.

“What do you mean, dad?” Asriel asked as curiosity gets to him.

“I wanted to learn from my father this important ability. There was no sign of war during my younger days but as being a single child. I wanted to protect a young human I befriended long ago. Like you, I found them and help them when they needed it. We became close friends. Golly... It truly felt like it been a millennia perhaps longer.” Asgore said as he looked down, lamenting.

Asriel easily could read into his father's expression that something was wrong. “Dad?”

“Yes, Asriel?”

“What's wrong?”

“It's nothing.”

“You can tell me, dad.”

“Asriel... You do not need me to tell you of such things.”

“B-but, dad looks so sad...”

“...Let's just say. When the war started, I was only able to see them one more time... After that, many monsters have fallen quickly and we were forced underground. That's all.” His head turns to his side slightly.

“That's all...?” His son asked with a soft tone.

“...That's all.” Asgore walks up to his son and pets him on the head gently. “I'm surprised you are wanting to hear such boring things Asriel. Are you sure you're still a child?” His father laughs as Asriel hides his nervousness. He won't call himself a kid anymore after how much timelines he had experiences as Flowey and remembering all of them.

“Golly, that's silly to say dad~! I just saw how sad you looked and I got all worried.” He spoke as he kept his composure.

“Of course, I am being silly thinking of such thing. Now, Asriel before you are taught you need to learn the most important aspects of our ability.”

Asgore steps back and brings one of his paws out, having it open as a small flame hovers above it. “My son, fire is not based on pure will or magic but emotion. That is what fuels it.”

Asriel blinks a few times at his father's words. “Emotion?”

His father nods his head gently. “Yes, the stronger the emotion the stronger the flame you are able to create.” Suddenly the flame size increases. “I imagine myself protecting those I love, thinking them as if they were in danger to allow my emotions to fuel the fire so that I may make the flame bigger but I kept calm as if you lose control with your emotions. It may be too much, unless... you can handle it. But, right now we need to awaken that power and to do that...”

His father closes his paw and left the room with Asriel watching him. His father shortly came back with a metal tray holding onto an air pot filled with a kind of tea with the scent it gave off. It wasn't golden flower tea as that would be after he and Chara have died. The smell was familiar to his mother's pie.

“Your mother is such a smart woman. Being able to make the taste of her pie into tea. I asked her if she could make such a tea for this moment. Would you like some Asriel?” He said with such a jolly smile and voice.

“Tea?” Asriel said as he was confounded.

“Yes, tea.” Asgore said as he places the tea carefully on the throne's seat.

“Gosh, ah... Okay, I could use something to drink.” Asriel's response made his father happy as he pours some tea into one of the tea cups and passes it to Asriel.

“Careful, it's hot Asriel.” Asgore continues smiling towards his son who tried to drink the tea.

“Ow!” Asriel yelps as he spits out some of the hot tea from his mouth. His dad kneels down with a concerned look. “Are you okay, Asriel?” “Y-yeah...” “I did tell you the tea was hot. You mustn't be so impatient, son. Blow on the tea calmly and then drink it.” His father told him in a calm manner while Asriel listens to him. Waiting a couple of seconds and blowing on the hot tea. Then he gave it a small sip this time without the tea burning him and allowing him to enjoy the warm taste of the tea.

“Oh... It's good.” Asriel said as Asgore drink his tea.

“Your mother did made it. But, don't you feel your mind being more at peace.”

“I... I do.”

“Good, you see Asriel. Having a calm mind is key when using such an ability. Yes, your emotions may fuel the flame. But if you don't control yourself then you may do something with it you may regret. But...” His father looks at him with a smile. “I believe that you won't have that kind of thing happening to you Asriel. You are a good boy after all.”

“Dad... Right! I'm a good boy~!” Asriel could felt a sharp pain inside him with his father words. It was the guilt of knowing he had betrayed his father's feelings as he knew full well that he himself has done things he truly regrets.

Soon enough Asriel and his father finish up their tea. Asgore puts the empty cups away and had him and his son stand face to face. “Now, Asriel. Hold out your paw” Asriel puts out one of his paws and opens it “My son, take a deep breath” His son takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes “Think about your motivations, think about what brought you to this point and use those emotions that bring you to help light the fire inside you.” Asriel begins to go thought all he remembers, why he must continue to do this. But as he digs deeper and deeper his breathing starts getting faster. His other paw clenching into a fist as he felt strong emotions overcoming him. What he had to go through, what Chara has done and truly what he did and what he wants to do for everyone. It's getting more and more overcoming as he started to feel sad about those he had hurt, how much sorrow everyone has been though, throughout all the different timelines and how angry he is to himself on what he.... he... had done. His father notices his son's paw becoming into a fist and then suddenly a large flame appear above his son's paw... ...But... ...the flame was too big. Asriel's eyes open wide as the heat from the flame was affecting him. He heard his father yell out his son's name. “Asriel, my son! Your emotion of anger and sadness is too much!” “My anger and sadness?” “That is right! Those powerful emotions that invoke the flame inside you. It would seem you bear those emotions deeply.” “It's hot... it's too hot... I.. I can't move it...” “That's because you lost your ability to stay calm, you are over thinking of your situation my son! You are allowing your sadness and anger to consume you!” “What... What should I do... dad.” “Think my son! If Sadness and anger are to make the flames grow what may quell those powerful emotions...” Asriel wasn't stupid, the opposite of anger and sadness was happiness and serenity. To think of what makes him happy and calm. There was what he remembers the love that his mother and father gives him, all the good times before all of this that he held with Chara and the calmness of being at the memorial statue... ...And as he thinks those positive thoughts. The flame began to become smaller and smaller until it was a small speck that hovers over his paw. “I...” “I knew you could do it, Asriel. But, you have not yet perfected it yet of course. It will be some time until you can really control and use fire magic properly. But, I believe you will be a great user once you reach that point. Perhaps greater than your old man.” Asgore let out a hearty laughter. “Dad? I need to ask... when will I be able to form weapons, like your trident?” “Hmm? That is a much longer way. You just have to find that on your own Asriel. Though...” His father took a few steps towards him with a wondering look. “Though, Asriel... how did you have such strong emotions to invoke such a strong flame. You are only a child and you have not gone through much. Yet, it was as if you were an adult who had known the hardship of the world itself...” “Ah... Well, you... you... y-you see dad-...” Then, a different voice was heard. A voice that held such a sinister tone. “Time's up, Asriel.”

Suddenly he saw the painful yet surprised expression of his father as he saw a knife go right through his body and then the knife which was easily taking right though. The king was injured yet was still alive turns his body around to see it was their adopted child.

“Chara... You...? You were supposed to be... the hopes of all monsters-” And before he was able to continue speaking Chara strike at his body with a mighty slash, his father kneeling down and soon... was turned into only dust. Asriel was now looking face to face with his best friend. “Chara...” “Asriel.” “...Why?” “Your time was up. I had to cut it short. After all, you would have told Mr. dad guy, wouldn't you? He held suspicions and we couldn't have that now could we?” They smile with such a wide grin on their face and their red eyes staring at the goat, but they notice the speck of flame hovering above his paw getting slightly bigger. “...And mom?” “She was the first one or that would be too sloppy of me” “Why are you doing this, Chara?!” “I'm not going give you the answer, Asriel. So I recommend you stop asking.” “You keep killing mom, you keep killing dad!” “Wouldn't those same words apply to you as well?” “Ah...” “Asriel, Asriel... You aren't as 'good' as you put yourself. Your silliness for redemption is such a fool's wish when you had done something like this. Experimenting the timelines and seeing what happens. Isn't that what you did? No need to tell me... It's a yes, I know.”

Chara could see their 'best friend' biting his lower lip with his fang.

“Aww, what's wrong Asriel. Did I tug on a string this time?” The flame grew in size in his paw, if he doesn't do anything it will continue to grow and it will burn him to a crisp. Maybe, if he focuses on who he wants to target it will go right at them. But, could he do it.... Chara crosses their arms watching the scene, one of their hands holding onto the monster dust covered knife. “You seemed to be getting hot, please... just do me the favor and light yourself on fire and turn only to burnt dust.” The fire grew once more, he had to focus... if he focuses those emotions onto Chara perhaps it will go strike at them. “Ah, Asriel. I suppose it was nice knowing you. Thank you for saving me the trouble.” They turned around and start walking but as they were close to the doorway. They felt a sudden heat coming right at them and instinctively dodge. “You little snea-” They notice a small part of their arm was getting hot and as they look over their sleeve was on fire. A small laughter was heard as they turned around. They could see the anger and sadness in his grey mature shine-less eyes “So, you got somewhat a fight in you again? You must be thinking in that small monster brain of yours. 'Oh, I can fight and beat Chara now, haha~' now my answer to that is.” Suddenly in demonic speed of theirs, they dash right at Asriel as a knife went right through his chest and the fire was put out from their dash. A pained groan escaped from the goat as his best friend spoke up. “You're not good enough yet.” They could hear him mutter “Just finish it...” “...I'll do you a little favor.” “A favor? What are you planning?!” “Tsk, tsk. Me? Planning? I'm just here to give you a little reward for that little attempt. It was a surprise. So, let me tell you a little something.” “The reason for all of this?” “Don't get ahead of yourself.” They dig the knife deeper in him. “Now, I want you to think. What do you know of Frisk?” “Frisk? More than you! Y-you just used them for their SOUL and made them do all of that awful-” “Did I? Asriel, how can you be so willing to think of Frisk of being someone of such goodwill?” “What do you mean?” “Didn't you think of I as someone so wonderful? Now think how I turned out to be.” “W-what are you saying?” “I'm saying, there's so little that you know of Frisk. Now, that is all... Goodnight Asriel.” With sheer strength, they move their knife upwards until it came out right in the middle of his head... making the goat be slightly open in half and soon turned into just dust. ASRIEL HAS DIED! THE TIMELINE WILL RESET SHORTLY! ASRIEL HAS LEARNED HOW TO DO FIRE MAGIC, BUT STILL HAVE TO LEARN HOW TO CONTROL IT BETTER!

#asriel #asriel dreemurr #undertale #asgore #asgore dreemurr #chara #important story #don't worry #asriel will come back like always #timelines reset guys #also #character development

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lafaiette · 7 years

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The Art of Creation

Inspired by this post by @killbioware, I wrote a short scene with Solas and Scarlet teaching each other their own art and being two adorable dorks ( ´ ▽ ` )

Watching Solas paint is a wonderful experience.

He has to hurry, because the colors of the fresco dry up fast, but he also has to be careful and precise, because he won’t be able to fix any mistake later.

Still, despite that, he asked her multiple times to join him and Scarlet always refused because she was too scared of ruining his work.

“You won’t ruin it.” he would always reply, chuckling and kissing her, squeezing her right hand – always her right one, because he fears the left one – and tapping color on her nose.

“I will! I have no idea how to paint a fresco and I’m not that good at drawing.” she would remind him, before admiring the beautiful forms on the walls. “I can only make simple shapes on my embroideries.”

“I could teach you. Maybe not on these walls, but on others.”

He repeats this last offer today, too, and Scarlet blushes, thinks about it – she imagines Solas’ hands guiding hers, his warm presence behind her, his laughter and chuckles in her ear, his lips on her nape, the beautiful scenes they could paint together.

“Alright.” she accepts, grinning happily, and he beams at her, before hurrying to take out a medium slab of polished stone hidden under his desk. She realizes he was hoping she would say yes, sooner or later.

He teaches her the terms and words of this delicate art. He shows her the different brushes and their different sizes, the correct way to hold them, the different ways to mix colors and create new hues.

They are sitting on the couch of the rotunda, in a calm hour where the guests are taking short naps and the agents are busy with whatever task Leliana gave them. Nobody will bother them for a long while and they have all the time to play with the colors, share playful kisses, and laugh.

Scarlet underestimated her drawing skills: she possesses them, although she is still sure they are more suitable for embroidery works, but Solas helps her turn her visions into something good for the slab of stone, too, and their two different styles mix together.

He presses kisses on her cheeks when she is proud of the result and he hugs her tighter when she gets worried and doubts her talent, prompting her to continue with reassuring words and praises.

And he guides her hands, yes, but she sees how hesitant and gentle his touch is when his fingers brush against her left one, her cursed and blessed hand.

His eyes don’t even linger on it, but she sees the sad and regretful shadow in them, and she briefly interrupts their lesson to see what’s wrong. His melancholy is not as strong as it was before the start of their relationship and she is so happy for that, because it means she is helping him feel better, but it still comes back once in a while and it seems the Anchor is one of the causes.

“Solas, I’m fine. It isn’t hurting me at all today.”

It’s true, the Mark hasn’t been bothering her like it did at Haven for quite some time now; sometimes its mysterious elven magic gets triggered at night and it flares up, filling her – their – quarters with that eerie, green glow.

But Solas is always there for her, ready to help her and soothe the pain, and that’s when the sorrow in his eyes gets worse.

“I’m not worried about today.” he replies with a sad smile and she thinks he’s referring to the future nights, to the possibility of seeing the Mark flare up again tomorrow or the day after tomorrow.

She sees the fear in his eyes, but doesn’t understand that it’s caused by the certainty of what the future holds for her – fame and success and even greater accomplishments, yes, but also the dangers that these things bring and the inevitable refusal of the Anchor for her flesh.

“Oh, vhenan.” she says, smiling at him, in that sweet, reassuring way that always makes his heart sing and his wish to tell her everything grow. “It will be alright. I think my body has finally gotten used to it.”

“Yes.” He smiles, too, a wet, frail thing that makes Scarlet worry even more and he curses himself for that. He fears he ruined their day, their blissful moment of peace, but she reassures him again and this time he does take her left hand, shielding it in his tender paws, not to protect the Anchor, but to protect her instead.

Then he kisses her, a long, deep kiss that leaves her breathless, and she giggles, hiding her blush against the soft texture of his clean sweater. But he raises her head, a gentle caress on her cheek, and he swallows her giggles and kisses her blush, carrying them deep into his heart to be cherished forever, his own mouth smiling happily.

The colors they spread on the slab of polished stone are almost dry and they will have to stop for today. But the figures on it are already taking form and Scarlet can already recognize the outline of the aravels of her clan and the hearth the children would steal bites of simmering food from.

Solas lies it flat on the wooden timbers placed at the other side of the room and casts a protective spell on it, so that nothing and nobody will ruin it. Then he goes back to the papers and documents he has to finish writing, all waiting patiently for him on his desk, and Scarlet punctually joins him, sitting on his lap, her sewing kit back in her hands.

That’s one of the ways they spend their quiet moments together and even if she knows there is a rather big pile of letters she should read on her desk, too, she would rather spend the entire day on Solas’ legs, watching him write, kissing his cheek, receiving his kisses in return, and creating her beloved embroideries on one of her shirts or one of the sweaters she sewed for Solas.

He noticed the elegant movements of her hands and the graceful grip of her fingers on the needle before, but today he finally gathers the courage to ask more, letting his curiosity and thirst for learning run wild and that tints her cheeks pink again because she is flattered and happy.

“Are the embroideries you sew Dalish, vhenan?”

“Yes, most of them. My mother taught them to me.” she answers, twisting the colored thread around one of her fingers with incredible agility. Solas watches it mesmerized. He has seen memories of people sewing in the Fade and he has learned how to repair his own stuff after a year spent in the wilderness of this less magic world, but he is nowhere as good as Scarlet.

He can only fix holes and repair tears, and even then he isn’t that good, too used to a time when magic could fix almost anything and enchant clothes with a merely whispered spell. But Scarlet is great at this and she can create, not also repair. She can decorate and give more life to simple, bland shirts and hide messages of love into her sweaters for him.

She is filling the petals of a small, delicate flower near the collar of the shirt, a petite, elegant thing that will surely catch the eyes of the less snobbish Orlesian noblewomen in visit. She touches the colored threads with a fingertip, makes sure they are tight enough, then proceeds, quick and precise like he is when he’s painting frescoes on the walls.

She has many little cuts and scars on her hands and fingers, but none of them are caused by the needle; he knows this because she told him so, one day, proud and timid at the same time. He would have known it even if she hadn’t told him anything, though, because it’s clear as day that the needle follows all her instructions and her mind and hands know exactly what to do and how to do it.

He thinks with rage and hatred of the scorn and mockery that such a beautiful talent would have caused in ancient Arlathan; pompous nobles, not so different from the Orlesians, scoffing at the direct use of hands instead of magic, confused stares and disgusted sneers, doubts about her talent for magic.

He can even imagine Falon’Din’s cruel jokes and Andruil’s rage, her accuses of Scarlet mocking the great Sylaise by using her art without magic, by refusing the use of her spells and teachings.

He presses his lips on her cheek, grateful for the fact that she never met them, that she will never meet them.

“You’ve grown quiet again.” she chuckles, patting his thigh, and he nuzzles her neck, eliciting another giggle that warms his heart.

“Would you teach me, vhenan?” he asks and she turns to him at that, wide-eyed, two fingers still holding the needle midair, right before it was about to plunge into the soft cloth.

“I am intrigued by the way you do it.” he explains, nodding at her work. His smile turns sheepish, but also proud, proud of her. “I am not very good at sewing myself, but this looks beautiful and fascinating and I’d like to try.”

Her mouth hangs open for another second, then she beams at him and almost bounces on his lap before kissing him and showing him the flower she’s completing.

“We can start with this one! It’s very simple.”

And this time, she guides his hands and protects his fingers from the needle; she shows him the correct way to hold it and the shirt, the Dalish techniques and embroideries her mother taught her; she explains how to create the illusion of different shades to give more depth to the embroideries, how to tie and knot the thread at the end.

He does everything she says and follows her example, asks questions, laughs with her when he makes a silly mistake and apologizes when he fears he’s ruining her work.

Finally, after more than an hour or so, the little flower is complete and they look at it with joy. It’s the fruit of their hard work together, something created by their hands just like the small fresco lying on the wooden timbers is, and he wonders if he will be able to sew something for her in the future.

He cradles her face in his hands and looks at her with a warm smile and warm, loving eyes, for so long that she smiles, blushes, and looks down at her lap, fidgeting.

“Ma vhenan.” he calls softly and when she raises her face to look at him, she thinks he looks beautiful and he thinks the same of her and they are so lost into each other, so busy smiling like two dorks, that they don’t hear Dorian enter the rotunda.

“Maker, aren’t you two the most endearing sight in this world?”

Scarlet chokes on a yell, while Solas lets out an undignified gasp and turns to the intruder with eyes of fire and a scary scowl that doesn’t scare Dorian at all. If anything, he just smirks smugly at him, before looking at his best friend with a softened, sweet smile and amused, kind eyes.

“I believe Josephine is looking for you, my friend. A merchant from Tevinter is here to speak with you and my presence is requested as well.”

“I’m… I’m coming right away!”

“Good! I’ll keep Josephine and the merchant busy a little more to give you time to… calm yourself.”

Scarlet groans, blushing hard, and the Altus leaves the room with a booming, velvet-like laugh.

“I must go.” she mumbles, collecting her sewing kit and shirt. “Uh… I need to put these away somewhere.”

Solas takes them from her hands, carefully folds the shirt, and then places it all on his desk, smiling at her.

“I will wait for you here. Your kit and shirt will be safe with me.”

“Thank you!”

She kisses him again and he holds her in his arms, sends her all the warmth and love he has in his heart through his embrace, and she feels them, returning them with another kiss.

“I hope it won’t take too long, but if it does, go to our quarters.” She fixes the collar of his sweater, looking up at him with golden eyes speckled with love. “We could eat dinner there today. Alone. In complete privacy. With some candles.”

He laughs and pulls her back for another kiss. She smells like paint and parchment, but if he presses his nose just right beneath her ear, he can smell the faint traces left of her perfume, the same ones that linger on his skin and clothes after a day spent in her arms and proximity.

“That is a marvelous idea. I will warn the cooks and servants to bring our food there, then.”

She leaves his lap, straightens her pants and shirt, leans down to press another kiss on his lips, then begrudgingly exits the room, turning back to wave at him with a huge smile before opening and closing the door.

One hour later, while he is neck deep into his researches and documents, a courier comes with a letter from her, written during the meeting with the merchant, meeting that doesn’t seem will end anytime soon.

After thanking the messenger, Solas opens the folded note and a smile blooms on his face: Scarlet drew a cute depiction of herself blowing him a great number of kisses and she used red ink to color the many hearts on the page.

He chuckles, caresses the little Scarlet’s cheeks with a finger, then folds the page again and slips it under his sweater, pressed between the soft woolen cloth and the leather straps he wears underneath it.

There is a small box in their room, where he keeps all the notes, messages, and letters they send each other through the day and that’s where this cute, new message will go soon, its ink safe from fading, the paper safe from Sera’s curious and sticky hands.

He goes back to his room, looking forward to the blissful hours that await him and Scarlet, and his heart is finally at peace, at least for the time being.

The wolf whines joyfully, waiting impatiently to hold his mate in his tender, gentle paws, and dreams of a time when he will be able to do that for all eternity.

#dragon age #da:i #solas #scarlet lavellan #solavellan #lafaiette's fic #I AM ON A ROLL #i wanted to add more scenes but i thought this worked better alone #i am all for solas being sweet and loving with lavellan #it's a pity we didn't get more romance scenes with him or the chance to kiss him whenever we wanted ;_;#DAMN YOU TIME RESTRAINTS #solas and scarlet being adorable and fluffy and domestic together GIVES ME LIFE #more to come #( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

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meekotheshibainu-blog · 7 years

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A Shiba Inu and a First-Time Dog Owner

I once fell in love with the foxy-look of a Shiba Inu. My desire grew when I watched a YouTube video of the truly intelligent Shiba named Yuki. Growing up, my parents never would allow a dog in the house. So, when I moved out on my own, I felt the urge to adopt my long desired companion. I wanted to do my research before I made a final, potentially life changing decision. I got the book titled “Shiba Inu-Comprehensive Owner's Guide” written by Andrew De Prisco. I searched the internet and everything I read basically said “Good Luck” .... “First time dog owners should not choose this breed” “They are practically untrainable” “Aggressive to everyone but their owner”. As you can imagine, I really began to worry. However, I started to put together the character-traits: stubborn, cleanliness, cunning, independent....they sound like a CAT! I am actually more of a cat person than a dog so this really intrigued me. I decided to take a chance ended up driving 5 hours to the Pennsylvania Dutch Country to pick up my full-bred, male Shiba Inu, and you know what? It was so worth it, I instantly fell in love.

I named my 4-month-old puppy Meeko which means little mischief in Native American, fitting I suppose. Here are pros and cons that I have experienced with him:

Cons

Stubborn When called, Meeko sometimes comes and sometimes will not, it’s really whatever he feels like. A treat almost always makes him come, though.

Master of escape I have just become a bit more confident with his being off-leash at the age of 2. But both incidences were in situations where no one else was around. The few times he got loose from me he bolted and thought it was a big game when I was chasing him down. Again the word treat helped.

Impatient When teaching him tricks, he lost interest very quickly. If I have a ball in my hand and am getting ready to throw he will try to steal it out of my hand or jump on me.

Cunning He is very intelligent in a manipulative but playful way. He clearly understands the word no but will often time refuse to listen the first time around. It takes some repetition to get him to listen. He will toss a toy or ball on my body repeatedly because he knows I will get so annoyed, I will throw it. While being potty trained, he would urinate on my carpet next to, not on, the puppy pee pad I had out.

Potty Training It took a while for him to learn but in his defense, we were initially living in an apartment and it was more difficult getting him out frequently. It was a frustrating process but he eventually understood.

Puller In his first year and a half he pulled the leash all the time having a hard time sticking by my side and sometimes yanking so hard at it that I thought my arm would pop out of the socket. With treats, praise and a harness, this has been fixed.

Jumper This is one thing I have worked hard on stopping but unable to see a light at the end of a tunnel. I think this is really common in dogs especially friendly ones. He means well but not everyone loves having a dirty-pawed dog attacking them.

Power Chewer I lucked out in the sense that he does not chew on furniture, shoes, ect... he chews mainly on the toys I provide for him. So there is a pro but the con is that he chews through toys at, sometimes, astonishing rates causing me to have to constantly clean up debris from the toy and buying new toys.

Pros

Loyal This is number one. He is truly a momma’s boy. He stays by my side and seems to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy his. He is such a great companion, helping me get through stressful days.

Active He is quite active but he seems to have a good sense of balance meaning he is not always hyper or desiring rigorous, constant activity. He has actually helped me get into better shape by going for walks every day. He even helped me discover a new love of hiking. It has been really fun exploring with him in the outdoors which I am not sure I would have done without him.

Social Playful and kind with other people or dogs. He knows how to play gently enough not to hurt anyone. He rarely bites and when he has it was during play and he immediately releases when he realizes the accident. He only ever snarled once at a Chihuahua with its yippiness, but I can understand that. He is great with kids, as well.

Cuddler He is a great snuggler. He sleeps the whole night through cuddled up to me.

Quiet He barely barks. Dogs bark at him and he doesn’t bark back. When he does bark, it is done quieter than most dogs

Entertaining With how smart Meeko is, he knows how to get silly. For example, If I say no to him biting something I do not want him to touch he will snap at it or get close waiting for my response by looking at me through the corner of his eyes. When I ask him where is ball is I watch him look around vigorously until he finds it and returns. He will make silly faces or contort his body clearly to get a reaction out of me.

Tricks He quickly learned all the tricks I trained him to do; High five, shake, sit, lie down, crawl, come, leave it. Treats are, again, highly motivated.

Grazer When it comes to food, he does not scoff it all down like many dogs do. Therefore, I am able to leave out a big bowl of food that he picks at as he pleases.

Independent Meeko easily entertains himself, he is a pretty low maintenance when it comes to play. Sometimes I have a lot to do and can’t be spending hours entertaining him but I don’t need to feel guilty since he appears content playing by himself.

Size A Shiba Inu is a medium sized dog meaning he is not too small not too big, he’s just right! He was fine in a small apartment but even better in my 3 story condo. Either way, he was happy.

What I Have Learned Overall

It is important to socialize your puppy at an early age to prevent unfriendliness and aggression towards others.

It is key to establish who the alpha is which can be hard to do with a Shiba but it is possible.

Early intervention with training is also key, repetition is very helpful.

Dogs in general thrive to please their owners. To see their owner disappointed teaches the dog to discontinue such behavior and good behaviors are more likely to occur if praise and a visual of your happiness is received.

Be patient, it is worth it in the end!

I hope that if you were as unsure about adopting the breed as I was while researching about the negatives of owning a Shiba Inu, you now feel more confident about your decision. I, for one, am glad I did not listen to the reviews because I now have a fantastic companion. Feel free to comment below for any question or your own personal experiences with a Shiba Inu, I would love to hear about it!

Miss HarleyKait4

To come: Shiba Inu Facts & How I Trained a Shiba

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chaisewriting-blog · 6 years

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Chapter 4

Willow walks along with a large group of the Twilightclan cats, and Slatepaw beside her was all jazzed up for the gathering, the sun was going down fast with a full moon soon taking it’s place, only a few clouds hid the light that shines brightly off of it. She didn’t try to look at the cats to her left side but she know they were looking at her, they were not happy when their leader announced that the loner was going to their sacred meeting. Lucky for Willow they respected Dawnstar’s decision to the point where they won’t attack her but not enough where they’re going to make her feel welcome. “Willow aren’t you exceeded?” Willow looks to the bright ginger tom, he’s face depicts some worry, “Ya, just nerves.” As she finished speaking she picked up a sense of a horrible, mixed smell of dirty water and rotten moss, there was a slit hint of grass but it didn’t help. Slatepaw notices her scrunched up face and through it was funny, “Looks like you just experienced the terrible smell of Breezeclan, there territory is part swamp and sadly that’s part we have to tolerate every gathering.” In the distance, she could see a pile of large rocks, “Those rocks are called Tall Stones, the leaders of the clans and pack stands on them to tell their news.”

“Why do they need to be so high up?” Slatepaw shrugged, “To make sure everyone can hear them,” Willow didn’t think that the answer, as they entered she noticed that there were cats already in the grassy clearing, which must have been Breezeclan, the cats looked scared for a moment while the Twilightclan cat came through, but they calmed down not long after. “What was that about? Why were they scared?” A voice came from behind, “They fear Twilightclan, something that all cats and dogs should be scared of. Especially loners and kittypets.” Willow turns to find a ginger tom with jet black stripes, he was big but no where near Eelfang’s size. “And it’s a good thing that your kittypet friend isn’t here, all these wild cats would have ripped her to shreds, hopefully you’ll be alright.” He deepen he voice to try to sound more threatening but ended up being scratchy that sounded painfully.

“Tigerscar!” She remembers that voice as Scarletfire, Willow realize that the bright red she-cat was to her side, “Stop trying to scare her or you can walk back to camp.” Tigerscar just gave a annoyed look with a little hiss, then walks away, she faces Willow with a friendly look, “Sorry about that Willow, Tigerscar alway tried too hard to scare cats new to the gathering.” Dawnstar walks over to them, “Come on Scarletfire, Whitestar and Mintleaf are waiting on us and I want to introduce them to my newest deputy to them.” They both left them behind, Willow moved towards the center with Slatepaw leading her, “So, when does this whole thing start?” He looks at her, “Well, first Sunpack still has to arrive, but besides that we begin when the moon is at its highest.”

“H-Hey.” Willow jumped in surprise, “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to scare you.” She turns to meet a small, sleek, beautiful black she-cat with sliver paws, “My name is Sliverpaw, it’s my first time here and-” She looks away in nervousness and sits with rapped her tail around her paws. Slatepaw spoke up, “Hey its okay, I was shy at my first gathering too.” Something in Willow made her think that he was lying, Slatepaw and being shy didn’t really go together. “It’s Willow’s first time here also.” Sliverpaw looks confused, “Willow? Not Willowpaw”

“Its a long story, Dawnstar will probably say something about it.” Slatepaw announced, Willow didn’t like being talked about like she wasn’t here but for some reason she couldn’t find her voice, all the cats around made her speechless. She then notices movement on the far side of the gathering place, they were dogs, they must be Sunpack she keeps hearing about. One of the younger dogs in the group walks towards them, he was a large light gray male with a white underbelly and paws. “Slatepaw? You’re finally back.” He said coming closer to the small group. “Lupus! Awesome to see you again!” Lupus set his dark green eyes on the two she-cats, “Who are you two? Slatepaw’s mates?” He jokingly stated, Slatepaw widened his eyes and folded his ears in embarrassment. “No! Their not!” He used his tail to tip Sliverpaw’s shoulder, “This is Sliverpaw, She’s from Breezeclan.” He looks to Willow, “ And this is Willow, a guest of Twilightclan.” Lupus confuse come on the moment the word guest popped out of Slatepaw’s mouth. “Guest? What do you mean?” Slatepaw was ready to speak once more before he was interrupted be the calling of the leaders for the crowd’s attention. “All cats and dogs, Listen as the gathering begin.” Willow turned to Tall Stones to see a long haired tom with fur so pure white he would have stood out even in the darkest of nights. As the crowd turned their attention to the three leaders, he uses he’s tail to signal Dawnstar to gave her news, “Thank you, Whitestar.” She nods her thanks to him while he goes to his place on the boulder as she move to the edge of the large stones, “I would like to start off this gathering with introducing my clan’s new deputy, Scarletfire.” She announced with a hinted purr in her voice, “But this also means that my last deputy, Nightfall, died from infection of some rat bites, are medicine cats did their best but Starclan has a new member in their forest. But Scarletfire already showed that she is a great replacement. We also have a new warrior, Gingerleaf.” As she finished her words the crowd cheers for the she-cat’s new positions, mostly from Twilightclan cats. “Twilightclan also brought in two cats into are clan as guest, one of them is even in the crowd.” Willow noticed same eyes fall on her, some in anger and other’s in confusion, both made her want to run and hide. Sunpack’s leader faced Dawnstar, “What were you thanking! Bring a outsider to the gathering!” He asked in anger, Whitestar faced her way, “Are they going to join your clan?”

“They can but I’m not forcing them to, and giving them time for one of them to recover.” Dawnstar looked to Willow like she just made her a offer, Willow just nods to her in understanding. Dawnstar just goes to the other leaders, Willow last heard the dark tabby leader pasting the gathering ears to the pack’s alpha until she felt a warm gaze set on her, she looked around to see where it’s coming from but for once no one was looking at her, which made her happy but weirded out for she knew some one or something was staring at her. She then looked at single branch with something large on it, to big to be anything that could lives in it, but as she tried to focus on it, it ran off clearly wanting to be seen by her. She looked to Slatepaw, he was wide eyes to the leaders like a kit with a new story and realize this is twice she compared him with one. “Hey Slatepaw, did you see what was in that tree?” She whispered, “Willow I’m trying to listen.” He whispered in annoyance, she should have seen that coming, not able to do anything for the time being just listen to the rest of the gathering, she then realized that she missed the alpha’s pack news and Whitestar started with his. “I would like to announce that Breezeclan is finally fully recovered, thanks to the help of Twilightclan and Sunpack. We also have two new warriors, Mousefang and Woolwhisker, and made Sliverpaw and Firepaw are newest apprentices.” He gives a friendly nod to the leaders and they nod back with the large group cheering. “Now I realized it took longer then I thought to get back on are feet but I guess Thornstar and his gang took a lot more out of Breezeclan then me or Mintleaf could imagine.” At the mention of the name Thornstar the crowd want silent, Willow was confused by this. As she looked around the cats and even the dogs were wearing a expression sadness, fear or a mixture of both. What was making them so scared? Thornstar? His gang? Dawnstar stood to face him with anger in her green eyes and her voice struggling to remain calm, “Whitestar, you know we all agreed that we would never mention that cat ever again.” Whitestar flatten he’s ear, while the alpha stepped towards her, “Dawnstar, calm down, you’re just mad that it was your clan that helped them, it’s just good thing you had me and my dogs.” He was a Twilightclan cat? He must have been here recently because Sliverpaw, a newly apprenticed kit looked terrified out of her mind, something no elder’s tale can bring out. Was he the thing that made Willow’s mother leave the clan? The Twilightclan cats hiss out in anger, even joined by some of Breezeclan but all of Sunpack stayed quiet, even Lupus. “Alpha! For the last time me and my clan had to do or it would have gone against the code we’re just luckily that part of the code is gone now.” Alpha just rolled his eyes, “There you cats go again with that silly warrior’s code, don’t you realize because of that code it gave us that murder in the first place.” The hisses just grow louder, there were some call outs of the crowded but mostly from Twilightclan, “No, it was Wavestar who made him deputy!” She saw the voice coming from one of the clan’s elders. “Ya! It isn’t are fault! We were just as stuck as anyone else!” She know that she-cat’s hiss anywhere, Ambercloud, one of the cats who were vocal about Willow’s apparent at the gathering. “Enough!” Whitestar called out in anger, “The important thing is it’s over and Breezeclan is back to full strength!” He looks to the leaders, “And let me make this clear to everyone, we’re not going to be afraid to show it!” As he jumped down from Tall Stones, Breezeclan meowed in support of the their leader’s statement. “Breezeclan! Let’s head home, this gathering is over.” Sliverpaw gives her good-byes and heads back to her clan, as Lupus did the same. But Willow just stared at the same tree top that she spotted the large creature in, Slatepaw trotted to her, “Come on Willow, the clan is starting to group up and leave.” Willow couldn’t leave until she fines out what that was, “Slatepaw, I’ll catch up with you guy’s later, I’m going to see what that tree creature was.” He just a face of worry, “But what if you got lost or attacked by something horrible!” Willow just rolled her eyes and started to walk away, “I’ll see you later.” Not a moment later the white spotted tom ran in front of her, “Slatepaw!”

“What? I can’t let you go alone.” He stated proudly.

Willow and Slatepaw walked through woods just outside Twilightclan territory, clouds started to roll in and the smell of rain in the air, she wondered if this tiny trip was a mouse-brained idea, her paws were starting to hurt and she could bet Slatepaw felt the same way. She also wondering if her imagination just acting up, then Slatepaw jumped up and landed in a attack position with he's fur standing on end, he quickly looks behind him. “Slatepaw!? What wrong?” Willow asked with a nerves voice, “I-I don’t know! Something or someone tapped me on the tip of my tail, like if a kit was playing with it! A big kit.”

“Maybe you brushed it against a low hanging branch or vines.” Slatepaw just shakes his head, his amber eyes were fearful. Willow then felt something tap on her tail tip, which made her jump and pulled her tail close to her. “You too?” He asked, she nods. “Hey! Who’s out there!” The bright tom shouted, “ Come out!” Willow didn’t want the thing messing with them to show it’s self. “Slatepaw we should go, now.”

“Wait, wait. I’m coming out.” Willow and Slatepaw heard a tom’s voice and look the direction it came from, a white tom suddenly appeared out of no where from in front a boulder, Willow was shocked by the tom. Slatepaw moved in front of her, but she quickly moved to his right side, “Hello, I’m the Shadow Warrior, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Slatepaw gave him a wide eye stare and mouth open, “No way. the Shadow Warrior!” She looks at him, “You know this cat?” He nods his head in excitement, “The elder’s tell his stores all the time!” He mewed in happiness, the white tom moved to them Willow walked back from him while her friend just keep staring at him. “Don’t worry Willow, I’m not here to hurt you.” He said a calm tone. “Ho-how do you know my name?” She shakily asked, he sits down and rapped his tail around his paws, “Starclan has sent me to find you, it’s a good thing you saw me on the tree top.”

“Great, what does Starclan want me?” Willow was already going to join the clan, what else did they want? He gives her a smile, “They want me to mentor you.”

#Warrior Cats #warriorcats #warriors fandom #warriorsfanfic #story

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venus-strikes-again · 7 years

Text

Adan Chapter Four

This is worse than I thought. Adan has a thinking look on his face as he watches Benson being hugged tightly by a kid.

“Help.” Benson gasps out.

Adan pulls at the red, white, green and blue dress grasping his body. He tries desperately to not look at the big ribbon on the back. “This is the worse moment of my life,” the dark blue feather penguin whispers watching the kid rush off. Adan rolls his eyes as he spots some passing males snickering and pointing at him.

“Speak for yourself,” his shadow giggles.

Benson pauses. “Did you hear something?”

“No.” the rare half-breed sighs.

The dark gray feather penguin lets it drop as another kid rushes at him grinning. “Oh no-”

~ ~ ~

“I hate to bother you,” Acadia murmurs, “but Ben needs your help.”

Adan nods then hung up the phone. When he rushes home he didn’t expect...this. Benson glares upside down at his little friend. “Laugh, and I’ll smush you.” he hisses while being held by green, blue, and red lighthouse decorations.

“I can’t believe you got stuck doing this.”

“How else was I suppose to do it?”

“Your magic idiot.”

A huge silence fills the air.

“Heh, I knew that. I just wanted to be cool about it.”

“Instead you look really silly…”

“And dumb!” Abhay shouts from his open window.

The dark blue eyed half-mage frowns. “No one asked you!”

“Don’t yell at kids Benson.” Adan scolds, grabbing the green cord hanging down and pulls.

The tangled up Benson lifts to the top where he rips the blinky lights off. “Decorating is stupid.”

“Suited for someone like you.” the illusion penguin drones.

Benson grits his beak.

~ ~ ~

When the snow height rises perfectly and as beautiful as white fur, kids want to play.

“Dude! Come on let’s go out and play!” Acacia, a fire half-mage, tugs on Abhay’s flipper.

“But you’ll melt it,” the illusion boy complains.

“Better! I’ll keep us warm!” the red feather girl rips open the door and runs outside with her friend.

“Hey! You forgot your jackets!” Adan shouts, grabbing Abhay’s winter gear.

“And your scarves!” Benson yells, shoving a red scarf and coat in his flippers before hurriedly following the rare half-breed.

“No!” the seven-year-olds scream. They squeal and squirm as the teenagers try to wrestle them into warm clothing.

“You’ll get sick if you don’t wear them!” Adan huffs.

“I don’t care!” Acacia grumps, smacking her flippers into Benson’s face.

“This is not how I imagined spending winter break,” the blue-eyed bird grumbles.

“Stop whining and keep trying,” his short buddy shivers.

~ ~ ~

Adan and Benson shudder as they carry the kids in.

“Oh dear,” Acadia sighs, getting some blankets out of the closet. “Sick?”

“Achoo!” Abhay sneezes.

“That’s a yes I guess,” the psychic half-mage smiles slightly. She waves her fin, “Everyone go sit on the couch.”

Adan and Benson obey grumbling while Abhay and his friend follow smiling hugely.

“Achoo!”

“Excuse you,” the illusion penguin pats her head.

The girl giggles, tapping his cheek.

~ ~ ~

Acadia looks out the window, watching the happy couples sadly. She looks down as she feels someone tug at her shirt sleeve. “What is it Abhay?”

The kid illusions red roses out of nowhere. “For you.”

The white feather female smiles sweetly, taking the flowers. “Why thank you.”

“Since you have no one.”

There’s an awkward atmosphere as the green-eyed boy walked away.

“Uh, thanks, I guess.” she glares at Benson who sits at the table. “Don’t laugh.”

Her nephew nods, covering his mouth.

~ ~ ~

“You’re so adorable Abhay!” Acadia squeals snapping a picture of the illusion penguin.

“I’m so glad that’s not me.” Benson utters, sipping his orange juice.

Adan turns as he hears the door getting thumped on. He runs over and swings it open. “Hey Acacia.”

Abhay freaks out and jumps behind the couch.

“Where’s Abhay?” the red feather girl asks.

“Somewhere.” Acadia chuckles.

“Abhay!” Acacia whines. She jumps on the furniture then looks behind the couch. “Hey! Cute bunny ears!”

“Then you wear them,” Abhay complains.

“Ew, no, they’re girlish.”

Acadia laughs in the background along with Benson.

“But I’m a boy! I don’t need girly ears on my head!”

“They’re cute!” the bright green eye bird giggles.

Abhay grumps. Acacia grabs his flippers and pulls him onto the cushions. Acadia takes a picture of this.

~ ~ ~

Adan turns his head as water hits his neck. He gazes at the wide open window but there are no signs of anything that splashed him. The dark blue feather penguin shrugs then goes back to reading his book. Liquid squirts at his cranium and Adan whips around. Benson snickers by the frame.

“Benson!”

The other runs away with the rare half-breed hot on his heels. Adan shoots fire at him, fierceness written on his face.

“It’s just water geez-ahh! My shirt!” Benson’s pullover now on fire and he freaks out.

“Just drop and roll!”

“While I’m on fire?” the blue-eyed bird screams as he aims for the front yard sprinklers. Acadia pauses from her gardening to raise her brow at the seventeen-year-old. “Note to self, pranking Adan is never wise.”

~ ~ ~

Adan wipes his forehead as the blazing sun beat down on them.

“When can we leave?” Benson groans.

“When Abhay and Acacia want to,” Acadia replies.

Is there a dark pigeon float? Saniya’s voice echoes in Adan’s mind.

What pigeon? Adan’s green eyes squint on a dark figure on a parade float who is looking back right at him. Grassy orbs glare heatedly at him.

Oh, it’s him.

Super. The dark blue feather boy sighs.

I got an idea.

Five seconds later, a dark green see-through vine-like light smacks at the bottom of the float. Something snaps and the rolling object groans as the rear lowers to the ground and its path starts to go off course. Acadia grabs the kids’ flippers and pulls them aside. The dark half-mage no longer stands on the float. The last day of summer parade had to be put on hold due to the accident.

~ ~ ~

Abhay sighs dramatically as he shoves the bathroom door open.

Adan looks away from the mirror to glance at the illusion penguin. “What’s wrong?”

“I attacked a float yesterday.” Abhay frowns.

The dark blue feather penguin pauses. “A float?”

“Yeah, the one from yesterday.”

Adan spins around to face the kid. “What? Why?”

The green-eyed boy puffs out his cheeks. “Well, I heard a voice in my head yesterday, so I used my illusions to attack the float.”

The olive orbed teenager glares at his shadow, it shrugs.

You could be a bit more grateful.

He could get involved in a life of crime!

You’re being silly!

No-I’m being serious!

Jeez, I’ll just tag along with him and I’ll be the judge if I’m being silly.

Saniya jumps from his shadow to Abhay’s.

~ ~ ~

Abhay drags his bag as he trudges his way to the school gym, he has been told anonymously that an assembly would be held there and said the students would be going home after it. The illusion penguin heaves the doors open, he raises his brow, but carefully walks into the dim room. “Uh, hello?”

A dark chuckle echoes making him squeak and wrap his flippers around himself. Abhay gulps and backs where he remembers the entrance. His back brushes against someone’s middle and as he spins around, a knife swipes at his face. The boy winces as a clean cut formed on his white cheek. He runs the other direction while something jumps into the pitch darkness. It makes eye contact with the attacker. Its teeth bare in a snarl, Abhinav holds out his weapon in self-defense. Saniya has no time to deal with this maniac so she swiftly bites his leg then spins on her paws and pads away. He hisses as air stung his small deep wound.

~ ~ ~

Saniya peeks her head out of the gym to see Abhay being led away by a teacher. “Everyone left hours ago, I guess no one told you.”

The demon nods then waits for the coast to be clear.

~ ~ ~

Abhinav watches Abhay and Acacia play from a distance. Everyone has a weakness. a sinister grin crosses his beak. He just has to exploit it.

~ ~ ~

Acacia looks up at the sunny sky as she walks from school. The red feather penguin hums softly, but it abruptly cuts off as flippers grab her shoulders.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you.”

Acacia threw a glare up at her capturer. She twirls out of his grasp in a feat of amazing strength. She then jumps and kicks Abhinav under the chin roughly. He staggers backward, gasping in shock. Acacia spins on her feet and bolts. The dark half-mage rubs his sore spot, surprised at the events that just unfolded.

~ ~ ~

“You should’ve seen his face when I kicked him like that.” Acacia grins as she tells everyone at recess how she defended herself from a creeper.

“Did your parents teach you?” Abhay asks her, his curious green eyes gazing at her, oblivious to annoyed glances thrown at him.

The fire half-breed pauses for a few seconds. “Well, he won’t touch me again that’s for sure.”

The illusion penguin raises his brow at his friend’s behavior.

~ ~ ~

“So, did they?” Abhay asks again at lunchtime.

Acacia taps her flipper against the white marble table. “Um…” she sighs and let her forehead rest against the limestone. “I don’t have parents.”

“Oh. Sorry for asking.” the other mumbles.

A red fin pats his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

“So, do you live in a center?”

Acacia makes a face. “Ew, no. They wouldn’t let me do any fighting skills there.”

“You live by yourself?” Abhay asks with a frown drawn on his beak.

“Yep.”

~ ~ ~

“Please?” Abhay begs looking up at Acadia from his kneeling position.

“Don’t we have enough kids?”

“But Benson went off to live on his own! So there’s not that much!” the illusion kid whines.

The white feather penguin sighs heavily.

“Please, she’s homeless.”

“Homeless?” Acadia gasps in shock.

“Yes, so please?”

“Alright, fine.”

Abhay pumps his flipper smiling big.

~ ~ ~

“You’re still short as ever,” Benson observes patting the boy’s head.

“I told you, it’s always been my size.” Adan grumbles, he grabs a mug and puts it under the maker that labeled ‘coffee’.

The green-eyed bird surely got a surprise as he falls to the floor and Benson on top of him holding the cup.

“Adan, you stupid fuck. You’ll die if you drink coffee and the doctor said you’re allergic to it-”

“That’s wonderful and all, but can you get off me? You’re practically squishing me.” Adan groans.

“Oh. Sorry.” the steel half-mage gets up and heaves his friend onto his feet.

Adan grabs his tea cup then holds it under a machine that had a red tag reading, fire tea.

~ ~ ~

“Outside?” Abhay asks with a groan.

“Yes!” Acacia grins pointing her knife to the square window.

“But, it’s dark.”

“I know.”

“And it’s a school night.”

“So what? It’ll be fun!”

The illusion penguin sighs but jumps off his bed. The red feather bird skips over to the pane and pushes the top window up, cool night air goes over her face. She climbs out with her friend following. Different color fireflies blink around in the darkness. Acacia twirls around while Abhay watches. The green-eyed girl gasps then runs toward a dark brown tree, its blooming flowers pink and silver. She gets out her weapon and heats the tip with her fire magic before carving something into the trunk. By the time Abhay catches up with her, she already finished. He gazes at the dark red ‘Ac and Ab BFF’. The fire half-breed giggles as the boy’s face liights up crimson.

“I...think we should get back home before someone notices we’re gone.”

“Oh come on Abhay, live a little!” Acacia laughs gleefully and turns around to meet a gaze of a demon. She suddenly screeches, grabs Abhay’s flipper and runs.

“Wait-”

“No time! Run!” the red feather child screams as the creature chases after them.

Abhay looks back at the black furred animal and attempts to shrug. A playful smile tugs at the black lips. Saniya halts to a stop as Acacia pulls her friend through the window.

“That was scary.” she breathes.

The boy looks away so she wouldn’t see his smirk.

~ ~ ~

Acacia walks into the classroom and her eyes narrow as she spots a silent mage wing signaling to Abhay. She smoothes her dress and gives him big smiles. The red feather girl trudges over. “Hey Ab!”

The illusion penguin’s uncomfortable gaze falls on her. A small grin tugs at the corners of his beak. “Hi.”

Acacia casually ignores the mage girl’s glares. “Who’s the bugger anyway?” she questions, she mentally laughs as she hears a stomping paw.

“I forget.”

The green-eyed girl looks behind her friend to see a card on his desk practically drowning in sparkles. Ugh, she’s such a girl. “You’re going to burn it, right?” Acacia swears she feels the silent mage’s aura shift to murderous.

“Do you know what will happen if I tell Adan I burnt up a card I got from a dressy girl? He’ll scold me and then Benson will come from nowhere and give me the girl talk.”

“Okay. I’ll burn it.” before anyone can blink, the fire half-mage snatches the card and runs out the door with a mage running behind her yelling in chirps and other bug sounds.

~ ~ ~

“...And you won’t ever get a boyfriend if you burn everything you see,” Benson scolds, waving his flipper at the red child sitting on the couch.

“Ben, really? She’s only nine years old.” Adan grumps at his friend while his shadow beams proudly.

“So?” the steel half-mage inquires raising his brow.

“You’re impossible,” the dark blue feather boy groans, walking away.

~ ~ ~

Benson opens his door and trudges into the living room. He almost screams upon sight of Acacia sitting on his couch with a calm smile on her beak. “How did you get in my house?” he snaps glaring hotly.

“Window. You should lock them better.” the red feather girl snickers.

“Why are you even in here, shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“Eh, how else do I ask adults questions?”

The blue-eyed male rolls his orbs.

“Anyway, Adan and Abhay act like bros sometimes…”

I don’t like where this conversation is going. Acacia didn’t finish her sentence causing Benson to raise his brow. “Uh, so?”

“So? I want a big brother too!”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“Are you this stupid?” the green-eyed girl grumps.

A few minutes pass before the other’s expression shifts to annoyed. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“But why?”

“Stop asking why.”

“I literally can sit here all day.” Acacia determinedly gazes at him while clutching onto the cushions.

This girl is stubborn.

“I’ll even set your house on fire if you don’t agree.”

“You can’t be serious-” his orbs widen as the girl pulls out a match.

“Don’t test me steely.”

“Alright, fine!”

Acacia squeals then jumps out the other’s window screeching uncontrollably.

~ ~ ~

Acacia skips as she enjoys the sun’s basking glow on her feathers. Her green eyes slide open as she nears her destination. Acacia glares as she witnesses the dressy silent mage throwing mud at her beautiful carving. “Ruiner of friendship!” the fire half-mage screams hurtling herself at the other child. The mage flaps her wings as she got tackled down by Acacia’s weight. “I will make you regret the day you looked at it!” the red feather girl growls pulling on the screamin' green ears. Acacia squints as a black wing hits her face, but it didn’t lessen her spirit.

“Whoa! Break it up!” gray flippers scoop the small girl off the silent mage.

“She ruined my awesome carving!” Acacia snarls, twisting her body and kicking her feet.

Benson gazes at the brown tree. “It’s still there Acacia.”

“She threw mud at it! She’s such a dirty brat!” the light olive-eyed girl snaps as the other’s form starts trudging away.

“Maybe, but that’s not a good excuse to jump someone.”

“It is to me!”

~ ~ ~

“We’re sort of a family, right?” Acacia questions, hanging upside down from the couch.

“How so?” Abhay asks looking away from the TV.

“Well, there’s an aunt, Adan is like a brother, Benson is like a bro, and we’re like pro sibs or something like that.” the fire half-breed smiles shyly and uneasily.

“What happened to your family anyway?” the illusion penguin inquires.

“I don’t talk about my past.” Acacia giggles.

Abhay grumps. “Fine.”

“They’re so cute.” Acadia laughs pushing her fins to her cheek.

Cutely odd, she could’ve just said her parents were dead. Saniya whispers in Adan’s mind.

Does being a demon make you insensitive?

Maybe I grew up this way?

That’s horrible. The dark blue feather bird picks up his workbook and sighs as he walks off to his room. Sometimes I wonder why you reproduced.

“To have an egg obviously,” the demon snorts.

“But why? And most importantly, how?” the green-eye bird rubs his forehead. “Maybe Benson is rubbing off on me.”

“Well, I didn’t want a guy, but I wanted a child, so I got married and got pregnant. I think it’s pretty simple.” Adan’s shadow shrugs.

#Adan #Chapter Four #fantsay #Fiction

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rceebe-blog · 7 years

Text

Mom Bear’s Chair (Commission)

The supercool Aurastrasza wanted, for one of his Patreon prizes, a story of his femboy sabertooth Leorajh getting sat on by mombear Farrah. Fortunately for him, that's what mombear is made for. :D Thumbnail background is from Textures.com. Farrah, Kahnso and writing (C) me Leorajh (C) FA: aurastrasza

"You gonna play nice with Mayor Aura's little faggy secretary while we're out?"

Farrah smiled. It was not a coy expression, just the patient countenance of a mom who regularly dealt with an emotional fifteen-year-old son. The parallels she drew between her cub and Kahnso were staggering, and she let them be known on sweaty, knotted nights with the singer when he wanted to fuss and bitch.

"I think he's actually her Chief of Staff," the black bear corrected. She patted Kahnso's shoulder and went back to trimming, pruning his split ends with small, sharp scissors. "You really doll yourself up for this lady - s'kinda weird..."

Kahnso frowned at her in the mirror. "Aura and I are just friends. I like to look good, cameras're gonna be everywhere. They always are when I'm around."

"Sure, sure," Farrah chuckled. "'Sides, you already have me around to fuck silly, right?"

"Exactly," Kahnso agreed in an unironic tone of voice. "Leorajh wants to meet you, either way. He really likes what you do with my hair."

The bear dragged a steel comb through Kahnso's locks. Black, orphaned strands fluttered down to the floor. "Boy, traveling with a rock singer and licking his butthole on a nightly basis, and sleeping with his friends' associates? Mom was so wrong about my career choices."

Kahnso smiled, full of sleaze. "I mean, you can stop licking my ass if you want. We can just snuggle."

She laughed and popped him on top of the head with her comb, making him wince. "As if, that's my favorite part of you. You'd better go shower up now. I doubt your friend wants you shedding all over dinner."

"Gee whiz, sure thing mom," Kahnso chirped as he climbed out out of the chair with some difficulty. Farrah pretended not to notice when he bent and rubbed his knees. Clothes and towel in hand, he went into the bathroom and gulped some Advil with a fistful of water from the tap. He called a moment later, over the splash of shower water, "You want to help with the hard-to-reach spots, sugar?"

Farrah always wanted to help with the hard-to-reach spots. Like the sweat and loose hair under the steaming water, Farrah's remembrance of his wincing over bad joints washed away as he plowed her against the shower wall.

Much later that evening when Kahnso and Aura were off in the back of a limousine with tinted windows and a tight-lipped driver, Farrah made her way to Leorajh's apartment. She found herself liking Australia quite a bit, or at least the city Mayor Aura presided over. She thought it was unfortunate that Kahnso's girlfriend was too skittish to fly and visit the country herself.

The black bear's thoughts swiftly left Kahnso's girlfriend when she finally made it up to feline's home. She had never seen him before, knowing only that he was a big cat and a big faggot, the latter a bit of frankness nobody would outright confirm save for Kahnso, but which was never denied. When she saw Leorajh with her own two eyes, dressed for comfort in a bathrobe made to look like a Japanese kimono, wearing his hair long and straight with his hips making an alarmingly feminine shape in his clothing, she understood that he was most definitely a sissy. His obviously interested eyes, however, marked him as anything but a homosexual.

"You must be Mrs. Kushner," Leorajh said amicably, smiling a smile framed by saber teeth. He stepped away from the door and gestured, coaxing the bear in. He watched her hips and wide bottom as she entered. "Sorry for the bath robe," he chuckled, closing the door. "Comfortable clothes are hard to come by."

Farrah took a fleeting look around Leorajh's apartment. It was not a penthouse, but the cat still plainly lived in the lap of luxury. Hardwood floors underfoot; high ceilings overhead; a large television on the wall and a black sofa with a curve made for intimate cuddling sat before it. The illusion of fire crackled in a false fireplace nearby. Farrah was impressed.

She turned to look at the cat, following him with her head as he stepped around her, brushing against her within a hair's breadth. Liking what she could see and knowing exactly why she was really there, she tutted, "I just walk around my house nude, when my son is away. That's the most comfortable way to be."

Leorajh smiled, resting a paw on the sash of his robe. Tiger lilies bloomed all over it, adding garish color to moody blue fabric. "I like how you think, Mrs. Kushner," he purred, pulling the sash. The robe eased apart and he was about to shrug it off when the mother bear took him by the shoulders and pulled it down for him. Blinking, smiling, he tittered, "Well, goodness. I suppose you have to be proactive working with somebody like Kahnso, hm, Mrs. Kushner?"

Farrah bumped the thick, black pad of her nose into Leorajh's and smooched his lips. "Just call me Farrah - Mrs. Kushner is my mother-in-law." When Leorajh smooched her back, she cooed, "Or you can call me mom. If you really wanna, that is."

The cat slipped his arms around Farrah, hugging her loosely. Her large bust kept him somewhat at bay, preventing his wide hips from resting easily on hers. He thought that was a shame; her hips were even wider than his, and that was a surprisingly rare thing for him to encounter. "Mom, hm? I think I'd only indulge in that kind of role-playing if you were wet-nursing me." He winked and grinned. "Hint-hint."

"I've been dry for fourteen years, cutie," Farrah said with a chuckle. "You can still suck on 'em if you wanna, though... I'd let a sweet boy like you do just about anything."

If the mama bear was out of milk, that was a shame - but Leorajh was happy because he'd heard his favorite word when it came to sex. "Anything, hm?" He dragged his manicured claws down her back, pricking her lightly through the t-shirt she wore. His paws closed around her plush ass cheeks and squeezed until they dimpled. "My, but that's a dangerous word to use around me."

Farrah chuckled knowingly. She licked Leorajh's cheek with her big, broad bear tongue then nuzzled the wet spot. "Yeah, Kahnso warned me about that. Lucky for you he likes a fat ass on his face. Imagine if the tabloids knew."

The lion was modest. "I like to think my ample attributes could make anybody enjoy being sat on. What about you, however?"

A playful growl welled up in Farrah's throat. She nipped Leorajh's neck, finding it too open and feminine to ignore. The cat's gasp was a pleasure all its own. "Would I enjoy your big butt on my snout? Probably... usually I'm the one doin' the sitting. Could be fun to switch it up some."

The bear let Leorajh go and he shed his bathrobe into a heap on the floor, kicking it aside. Paws on her broad shoulders and a small, but very eager erection poking from his hips, he smiled toothily and purred, "What a fun woman you seem to be. No wonder Kahnso takes you along when his lovely lady won't accompany him. Does she know?"

"She's watched," Farrah said, proudly. "Sweet girl. Real pretty, nice hair. I showed her a thing or two about keeping her man happy. Sure worked on my old man."

Leorajh knew about her husband. He knew quite a lot, in fact, including that she ran a salon and had two kids. It wasn't creepy obsession that gave him so much knowledge over her but just retention of things he'd heard here and there spending time among Kahnso and Aura when they weren't conjoined at the hip. So when she mentioned her husband even in such jovial context, he nodded respectfully - and then kissed her cheek. "I'm sure a pretty mother like you knows exactly how to make a man happy, be it sexually... or with a nice dinner."

Farrah grinned, but there was a blush to it. She nipped Leorajh's lips and started nudging him toward his sofa. "You're saying I better cook you dinner, is that it?"

"I wouldn't say no if you felt obligated to after a thorough ravishing, no," Leorajh replied with a wide, smug grin. The bear returned it as she shoved him back, making his naked body hit the cushions.

"You're gonna have plenty to eat once you get a mouthful of my bush, you little dick," she laughed, straddling him. Her jeans were terrifically snug on her and as Leorajh's small, stiff penis ground against her loins, she cooed. "Cute dick. Fun Size, huh?"

"That's one way of putting it." Leorajh worked his paws under her shirt from the back, lifting it with lazy strokes against the grain of her black fur. "Mmm, you're very soft. I keep telling Mayor Aura how perfect she'd look with a bit more meat on her bones."

Farrah gyrated against his hips, crushing his small cock in a way he found unbearably erotic if the manner in which he was grinding and hissing was any indication of his feelings. "I've met her, yeah... she's got the figure for it, she'd look fine as hell with a little chub to her."

"Mmm, god. In the meantime, suppose I'll just have to make due with you, mom," said Leorajh with a wink. He chuckled slyly, pushing his fingers under her jeans and panties. He rubbed the naked hemispheres of her bottom reverently. "You've got such a perfect body. I'm jealous Kahnso gets to take you home."

The bear smiled, taken in by the flattery. She made a point of nibbling his cheek. "Lil' sweet-talker, aren't you? I bet you'd get sick of me after just a week together. Yelling at you about picking your clothes up and washing behind your ears."

"I'll have you know I'm extremely hygienic," Leorajh jabbed, yet his face was ever coy. "Unlike the boys you seem to put up with."

She snickered, yanking his head ahead quite roughly to bite his neck. His sudden gasp and the way he dug his claws into her fat hide betrayed just how surprised he was by the roughness, but he pushed his pelvis into hers needfully. "Mmm, well, Kahnso's pretty good about cleaning up after himself... although he usually just walks around naked when I'm visiting, anyway."

With blushing cheeks, the big cat slipped his girly paws under the front of Farrah's shirt. The white block lettering spelling KOCAINE KAHNSO distorted under his touch. "So he's your oldest, hm?"

"He calls me mom sometimes, if that's what you're getting at." A peck on his lips, then she growled into his ear, "No bra. You're welcome, cutie."

"Thanks, mom," he sighed, clutching the mama bear's unencumbered jugs. They were easily among the thickest breasts he'd ever handled, and not entirely perky in that regard, but he appreciated the ways in which women aged. He thumbed her stiffened nipples, finding himself wondering what color they were.

Farrah closed her blue eyes and lightly gnawed Leorajh's ear, letting her loose jowls do much of the work. She rode his hips, pushing her pussy into his small penis over and over again, wondering how long it would take him to pop without her even taking her pants off. Into his ear, keeping its edge on her lips, she rumbled, "Real mama's boy, aren't you? You like older women, huh? MILF hunter?"

Leorajh closed his eyes too, relaxing against the couch. He rubbed Farrah's breasts in small circles, using his claws to lightly prick and scrape her nipples, tweaking the tiny bumps around the nubs. "Not exclusively," he chuckled. "You older ladies do have a certain charm, though..."

"We know what the fuck we're doing," growled Farrah, dipping her tongue into his ear a second later. She nibbled down the side of his head and pecked his lips when she was near them. With all her weight and strength, she shoved her hips down, mashing his cock between her loins and his; his low and needful mrowl was the most plaintive but genuine sound of pleasure Leorajh had dared make in months.

The beautiful bear pulled back, resisting Leorajh's grasp on her breasts, pulling her shirt outward before his paws finally fell away. "God, you're cute," she said, staring down into his feminine face. She made a show of licking her lips, smearing them with slobber. "And you're making me awfully wet."

Smiling wider, blushing, Leorajh laughed. "So direct. I've got a chicken-or-the-egg conundrum now."

Although Farrah tilted her head a moment, she didn't waste any more time in getting what she wanted out of Leorajh. She pulled the big cat aside, forcing him to lie on his sofa, head near the corner nook. Momentarily off the cushions herself, she undressed and gave the cat a good look at her full, black body. He was pleased to see that her nipples were pink and her carpet matched her drapes.

Climbing over Leorajh let him see that her bearded muff was noticeably damp. She asked playfully, "And what might that be, cute stuff?"

He took hold of her fat bottom as it hovered over his face, parting the cheeks slightly and baring a pink, mildly puffy pucker. "Well, were you this forward before you met Kahnso, or after?"

Farrah smirked, thrusting her ass down. She made Leorajh's face vanish under her plump cheeks, and his nose rubbed more-or-less into the pucker of her anus. "Before. Definitely before. I like to think I taught him a few things, too."

Understandably silenced but fine with the burden, Leorajh gripped the bear's chubby ass cheeks and let himself enjoy the pillowy hell he was stuck in. Farrah's body was clean, her fur conditioned and soft - no surprise given her vocation. Her ursine musk was delicate, but obvious with his nose stuffed right into the pucker of her asshole; Leorajh savored the intimacy and licked firmly and impartially across the run of her taint, where her fur was at its thinnest.

Grinning with eyes narrowed, Farrah gyrated skillfully upon Leorajh's pretty face. She clutched his genitals, stroking his penis with a thumb and forefinger, caressing his sack with the entirety of the other paw. In spite of the man she took alleged business trips with, Farrah wasn't a size queen. She enjoyed them big and small, and as she leaned over Leorajh and slopped her great, pink tongue over his penis, the moan she let loose was sincere.

Farrah's muff drooled on Leorajh's chin. Although he was licking only the bottommost edge of its lips, where they came together into a subtle vee shape, the bear loved his attention. It was one of the benefits of being a middle-aged mom that any attention from a male half her age was enough to make her happy; genuine lust and skilled lovemaking could give her a high for a week.

Leorajh was mostly helpless under her fat bottom, but his paws roamed her back and often swept around to her breasts. His cock throbbed needfully against the slick surface of her tongue, his balls aching in her gentle, chubby fingers; he was obviously in love with her body and her touch.

Although her large mouth was overkill, Farrah gulped Leorajh in, pushing her thick nose pad into his balls. She gulped and slobbered him, abusing his modest meat with the bulk of her tongue, grinding his cock into her palate as often as she could.

Beneath, trying to up the ante himself, Leorajh dragged his tongue exclusively across the slightly swollen button of her pucker. He guessed, somewhat rightly, that Kahnso must have enjoyed an awful lot of anal sex to keep her well-trained asshole in such a state of puffiness all the time. He didn't know the fellow she called her boyfriend had a horsecock and liked to put it there too.

With the bear doubled over, Leorajh found her breasts more troublesome to stroke and squeeze. He reached underneath her, down the chub of her belly in toward her groin. Feeling through the wiry hairs of her bush, he tweaked her clitoral hood and eased his fingers into her, claws fully retracted. His less dominant paw stayed on her bottom.

Farrah groaned over top of Leorajh, her back heaving. A smile tugged at her occupied jowls, trying to make her grin again. She let go of his balls and forced herself lower still, cupping the paw around his thigh and lifting him by it. With her mouth opened wide and her heavy tongue slopping past his loins, she outrageously dragged his delicate balls into her mouth and sucked the whole package.

It was one the boys never saw coming, and not even the worldly Leorajh could believe what was happening. His cocksure face was a mask of total bliss, unseen though it was under the bear's broad ass. He kissed her anus dreamily and tickled inside of her, teasing pink flesh with his soft pads. The bear was hot as an oven in her cunt, more humid than the dog days of summer, and he would have loved nothing more than to pop his nut inside of her. She was a perfect MILF as far as he was concerned.

But Leorajh knew he wasn't going to last. Farrah was just too good at what she did with her mouth, and he felt almost as if she was wasting her talents with his small endowment. Such was the bear's skill that Leorajh didn't want her to stop even though he thought she was overqualified for blowing him.

To Farrah, it was all just good clean fun. Leorajh was such a pretty boy and so eager for her body that she was all too happy to gulp and slobber and suck him until he couldn't handle anymore. She would have just as gladly let him shoot inside of her, or across her tits and her face, or even lick her toes if that was the kind of thing that got him going - she had learned, after forty-odd years, how to be flexible. But then and there, she knew that the cat was close, and she wanted him to feel good.

Without stopping to tease him, Farrah doubled down, sucking so hard that his waterlogged crotch throbbed in her mouth. She smothered him so severely that he couldn't catch an entire breath of air from under her ass. She let go of his thigh, sheepishly realizing she was still holding him up, only to reach under his balls. With the drool she'd let run down his taint, it was trivial to stuff a finger into his ass. He tensed beneath her, toes curling, exhaling his precious air sharply. The mama bear grinned wide.

At last, and very much aware of how passive he'd become in pleasuring her, Leorajh shot into the perfect bear's mouth. As he came he rubbed his feet together, toes curling against each other. He huffed against her ass, drawing his musk-laden breaths with much effort but hardly minding it. His orgasm into the bear's mouth was quite small compared to that of the usual men in her life, but the thought was what counted, as Farrah liked to think. She guzzled down his spunk, loosening the suction enough to let his balls out of her maw, his cock a moment later; her finger stayed buried in him until she climbed off of him, leaving his snout smeared with sweat.

Standing near the couch, Farrah stretched as if getting ready for yoga. Leorajh appreciated the show even in afterglow. He said with a wry little grin (and eyes still dazed from the smothering), "Thanks a lot, mom. You treat all your boys like that?"

"Only the cu-u-ute ones," said the black bear in the middle of touching her toes. "Mmm, now, how's about I lay back and you can show me exactly how thankful you are? I bet a cute kitty like you can get it up again..."

Leorajh sat up with some difficulty. He glanced at his waning erection. "I may be a bit slow to start," he admitted. "I'm not opposed to trying, of course."

Smiling resplendently, Farrah sat back on the hardwood floor. Chubby thighs spread and muff implicitly offered, she cooed, "Somebody's getting a nice dinner when we're done here."

The cat knelt between her legs with a laugh. Dropping to all fours, back arched, peering at the bear over the rolls and mounds of her perfectly feminine form, Leorajh growled, "I was hoping to have you for dessert, actually."

When the cat started to eat - and Farrah was delighted to find that he knew how - the bear sighed and closed her eyes. "That can be arranged, sweet stuff. For right now, just help your mama relax."

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