#she still seems skittish around the supposed owners when they come outside

[valengory1234]

Just found out the cat I’ve been taking care of (giving water and treats to) might have owners 😢

#I got so attached #we named her #I bought her toys #she still seems skittish around the supposed owners when they come outside #but it would explain where she is during the day when I can’t find her #I left a note in the neighbors mailbox asking for clarification and I’m waiting to hear back #I’ll be happy if she does have a home #but I’m still a little sad bc it’s the first time I let myself get attached since my cat passed away 3 years ago

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (11) || atz

He pulls you through the town, back to the harbor where you can see several ships docked in the piers. But to your surprise, Jongho doesn’t lead you back to the Treasure. Instead, he drags you to a small bakery selling pastries and sweets.

You turn to him confusedly. “Jongho-hyung, what are we doing here?”

“Pick three cakes.” He gestures at the shelves. The establishment is neat and well kept for a pirate town, and the cakes look rather high quality compared to the other shops you saw earlier. It must be expensive. But since he told you to do it, you obey.

The shop owner takes your pastries and puts them in a little paper bag. Then Jongho adds several more cakes to the order, until his arms are laden with bags of sweet treats.

“Let’s sit.” He tells you gruffly, pulling you to one of the tables outside and sitting you down. You continue staring at him in complete bewilderment even as he pulls out your pastry and sets it in front of you.

“Eat.”

Your mouth falls open. Then you lean forward, pressing a palm against Jongho’s forehead as you look into his eyes intently. “Jongho-hyung, are you experiencing any dizziness or discomfort?”

The maknae jerks back at the contact, face twisted in a confused scowl as he shakes his head. “What? No! What are you-”

“You need to be honest with me, Jongho-hyung.” You look into his eyes carefully, searching for wavering pupils or the like and your voice drops to a secretive whisper. “Have you been drinking without telling Seonghwa-hyung?”

“No! Why are you even asking me this? I'm not being weird!” Jongho yelps as he scoots back further from you, the sound of his chair dragging across the stone floor making both of you wince. “I'm not drunk! I’m not sick either!”

“Okay…” You continue to stare at him with worried eyes as you take a bite of your puff, the sweet taste of cream spreading over your tongue. The young battlemaster sighs.

“I just wanted to talk to you.” He glances away from you for a moment to collect his thoughts, before he opens his mouth to speak again.

“I don't hate you, okay?”

His words are mumbled under his breath, so you lean across the table to hear him more clearly.

“What?”

“I don't hate you!” He shouts, clearly embarrassed. His cheeks are tinged pink and you look at him in surprise.

“Shut up, kid!” One of the bakery’s patrons shouts at the two of you and you shy back into your chair, feeling your cheeks burning.

“Oh.” Is all you manage.

You’re a little shocked. With how he’d been treating you this while, you thought he’d hated you, loathed you, even. While you weren’t sure why, you had thought he had disliked you immensely.

“Wipe that dumb look from your face before I smack it off.” Jongho grunts, and you realise that your lips are pulled into a wide grin. Hurriedly, you try to hide your Cheshire Cat smile, but it’s impossible. “I mean it!”

Finally with much difficulty, you press your face into a poor attempt at a serious look, much to Jongho’s chagrin. He sighs, slapping a hand against his forehead.

“I’m just awkward with new people, okay?” You’ve never seen the young battlemaster this skittish. Even in battle, he’s always possessed some kind of quiet, silent self confidence, not an ounce of self doubt in him. “And I was always the youngest till you came along, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to… take care of you.”

You’re oddly touched by this for a moment. This strong man, who can handle even the fiercest of enemies, awkward and shy… because he doesn’t know how to take care of you.

A giggle somehow manages to leave your mouth. “That’s cute.”

“What! No!” Jongho cries in horror, looking desperate now. “I’m not cute-” A disgusted glower paints his face as the last word passes his lips.

“Boy, shut up before I come over and shoot you myself!” The shopkeeper bellows from behind the counter, and Jongho slumps back into his seat, groaning in despair at your irrepressible smile.

“Forget I said anything.” His words are muffled against the table top.

The two of you sit in peace for a long moment. It’s silent, like how it was between the two of you before, but where there was discomfort, now there is a happy warmth that fills you from the inside. Maybe it is because you’ve lost your memories, but with every new person that you meet, they root and grow themselves in your heart.

“Jongho-hyung…” You suddenly speak up, breaking the silence you two had been enjoying. The young battlemaster raises an eyebrow as he looks over at you questioningly. “What song did you sing when I was tied to the mast?”

“Song?” He frowns, but you can see baby pink blossoming on his cheeks like cherry blossom petals. “I sing a lot. Do you remember the lyrics?”

You recite what you remember. “Born on the wrong side of the ocean…”

“Ahh.” A small, sad smile pulls at the corners of Jongho’s mouth, the look softening his serious expression as he glances towards the harbor. The sun has just begun to set, the rosy light casting Jongho in a halo of warm oranges and pastel pinks. “It’s an old song. My mother used to sing it to me when I was still a child.”

The look on his face is forlorn, a little happy, a little sad, a little wistful. His eyes seem to be looking at something so far away, gazing at some point in his past that you can’t see.

“Jongho-hyung… where is your mother?”

That snaps the maknae out of his thoughts, the smile falling from his face as he inhales deeply. “She’s dead now. Died of consumption a few years ago. Didn’t get the medicine she needed and left. She’s in a better place now.”

You blink once. “That’s sad.” The cream puff is finished off, and you lean back to look at Jongho. His gaze never leaves the ocean as he continues to speak.

“Dad died before she did. In a hurricane offshore. Never got to see a trace of him again except the smashed up remains of his boat.” He points to a piece of tattered white fabric he wears around his shoulders.  “This is from the wreckage.”

His voice is thick with emotion, but his face remains solidly strong. You feel something stirring in your chest, something that seems to want to swallow your lungs whole. You frown and touch your chest. Is there something wrong with you?

“But enough about my sad backstory. What’s over is over, and what’s left for me to do is move on.” Jongho’s voice doesn’t waver at all as he thumps his chest. “They live on in here. I’ll live well for the two of them and never shed a tear again. Can’t let them be worried about me.”

His smile returns, a genuine and powerful one this time. For a moment, you’re so lost in it that you can barely breathe. Jongho is the epitome of strong. Not just physically, but in the heart, and in every sense of the word.

“Anyway, what about you, stowaway?” He cocks his head as he shoves a meat stuffed bun into his mouth. You look confused for a moment. What past do you have to tell? “What’s with that necklace around your neck?”

Ah. Your fingers reach up to stroke the silver chain resting against your delicate collarbones. Your only link to your past, the last thread you have connecting you to who you were before.

“I don’t know.” You murmur softly, feeling a lump rise in your throat. “I woke up with it.”

“I know Hongjoong-hyung said you’re an amnesiac.” Jongho looks at you firmly, but curiosity brims behind his eyes. “But do you really remember… nothing?”

You close your eyes. For a second, white dances behind your eyelids, the sound of sea crashing against the shore filling your ears and rain touches your face.

Then a single, unblinking red eye looms into your mind.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes fly open. You can still see it, a monstrous thing, a dark, hulking shape in the depths that has been forever chasing you… following you…

You’re not sure how Jongho will react right now if you tell him you could hear the voice of a giant squid monster which was chasing the Treasure, so you merely hold your tongue and shake your head.

Jongho is silent for a moment.

Then suddenly he rises to his feet, abruptly grabbing you by the arm. You follow, a little stunned by his strange change in demeanor, and Jongho whirls to look at you with resolution carved into his face.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose.” The young battlemaster swipes the sweet smudge off with a finger and licks it off, to your horror.

“That’s disgusting, Jongho-hyung.” You scrunch up your nose, but you’re not sure why he’s suddenly so eager to do something. Jongho begins pulling you somewhere, much to your surprise.

“Where are we going?”

“When I first came to Tortuga, I had just lost my parents and joined the crew.” Jongho tells you earnestly, leading you down past the harbor to a more lively, darker part of town by the shore. Many street vendors and shopkeepers with makeshift booths line the wooden docks, all offering some sort of rare, exotic wares, but Jongho simply brushes past all of them without a second glance. “And by coincidence, I visited a fortune teller.”

“I didn’t peg you for the superstitious type, hyung.” Is all you say as you take in the new environment all around you. The place is a little shady, with suspicious characters slinking away at every turn and dark, hooded men crouching behind corners. But with one glance from Jongho and they scatter, clearly intimidated by the way his fingers inch for the handle of his cutlass.

You remember what Yunho had told you about Jongho just earlier this morning.

He’s a great fighter and he has strong protective instincts. You’re probably safer with him than in the sickbay.

“I’m not superstitious.” Jongho tries to defend himself, but sees the look on your face and sighs. “There’s something different about this fortune teller. I never believed magic existed till I met San-hyung… but this fortune teller has a similar aura I get from hyung.”

You immediately understand what he’s talking about. Your master has a pulse about him that you’ve always been able to feel, like the warmth emanating from the sun and a gentle pulse that draws people to him, a comforting softness.

You’ve never seen San use his ‘inner energy’, as he calls it, but the feeling you get from him is no lie.

“But why do you want me to come to a fortune teller, hyung?” Nerves and a deep sadness twist within you. “There’s no point in knowing what’s going to happen. If I can’t remember my past, what’s the point of looking at the future?”

Jongho then stops you in your tracks, placing his hands on your shoulders. His eyes are both gentle and earnest at the same time, searching yours and for a second you can’t look away.

“You may not have a past yet.” The grin on his face is wild, brimming with confidence. “But we sure as hell are going to be your future.”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #w; fanfiction #w; ot8 #w; pirate king

[ashintheairlikesnow]

BTHB: Traumatic Touch Aversion

@comfy-whumpee​ requested “Traumatic Touch Aversion” for Antoni and here it is! Antoni’s first meeting with Nat when he came to stay at her safehouse. Also listing @wildfaewhump​ who loves all things Antoni.

CW: Referenced burns/scarring, touch aversion, conditioning, pet whump reference, box boy, self-injury (reopening wound at the end)

They meet in what was supposed to be a brand new subdivision, back before the recession scattered the developers and contractors to the wind and left this grassy cleared patch of ground just outside the city, complete with poured paved little road and a few poured concrete slab foundations, like grave markers for the homes that were never built here, the people who never had the chance to move in.

A reminder of the world where you can do everything right and the whim of a few individuals, who live so far away from you, can create an avalanche that buries your plans. Nat is old hat at that, of course - she’s buried her plans twice now, and built new ones right on top of the old. She was going to work in journalism, and then she was going to be the best marketing director WRU ever had, and then…

And then she walked away.

Bought a house with some of her inheritance from her dad, fixed it up for a few months, and... started over.

She likes this life just fine, because it leads her here, to places like this, to clandestine meetings after dark.

Nat’s truck is parked in a cul-de-sac that loops around empty grass, where they might have built a playground, if the neighborhood had gone up. Or put in a pool. Ahead of her is the SUV of the man she’s meeting, so far out in the sticks that she doesn’t worry about being seen, not here. Not in the evening light, with the sky burning down to night. 

She hops down from the truck, short and strong, her long brown braid smacking in the middle of her back as she goes, in her signature flannel over a t-shirt and jeans. You look like Kurt Cobain’s mom, Jake had told her once, and she’d pointed out that she’d be Kurt Cobain’s little sister, thank you very much, she was in Driver’s Ed when all that happened, and hadn’t that blown his mind for a while. 

She’s smiling, a little, as the breeze picks up. It’s the time of year when the hottest winds blow, licking through her hair and over her skin. Like living in a kiln. Nat feels like she cracks a little more each year in the heat.

Still can’t give up her flannels, though. She’ll be cold in the ground before she wears anything else, ever again. Flannels and sensible sneakers or work boots, and that’s the farmer in her that just refuses to fade away.

Those years wearing suits and heels, she felt like she was playacting, wearing a costume picked out by someone else that didn’t fit. This is who she is, and she can’t be anything else. She wouldn’t be, not ever again, anyway.

“Evening, Nat,” One of the two men she is here to meet calls out, and she raises a hand in greeting. Paul is in his fifties, ten years or so older than Nat herself. He’s been living the lib life for decades, was the one she used to call fifteen times a week with a thousand crises she didn’t know how to solve. 

Now she’s the one the younger safehouse owners call, and it’s kind of funny… in a lot of ways, 42 still feels like 24 felt, only she’s less confused and gives a lot less of a fuck about fitting in or following the expectations set out for what makes a good life.

The other man standing next to him is younger, and doesn’t look up. That’s the one that Nat is really here to see. That’s the rescued runaway pet she’s here, in the end, to try and save.

Nat moves to the older man without hesitation and crushes him tightly to her in a hug, listening to his deep, rumbling laugh. “Paul! How was the drive? Was it good weather all the way?”

“Long,” Paul answers, sardonic as always, patting her back. “Started out rainy, as Washington likes to be up by the coast, and I don’t think I’ve seen an ounce of precipitation since we stayed overnight at the hotel. You’re starting to sound Californian, you know. That Midwestern accent’s slipping away.”

“After twenty years, you’d think it’d be gone.” She laughs, unbothered. “You’re grayer than last time, too.”

“Look, at my age, you’re just happy the hair is there at all, Nat. Where’s Jake? He didn’t want to ride along this time?”

“Hm? Home with the others. He’s talking about going back to college, and so he needs to study, and then we’ve got this new rescue who’s still healing up from some serious injuries he underwent, so Jake doesn’t want to leave... and I don’t blame him. Our newest rescue’s a flight risk in a big way. He wanted to send his greetings, though.”

“Well, tell him I said hi in return.”

“Will do. I was surprised to hear from you, I didn’t think you did out of state drives anymore.” 

Paul clears his throat. “I don’t. But we’ve got a situation, and we had a donor step in and pay for the gas and hotel money.”

Nat nods, her smile fading and moving back to seriousness, as she looks around Paul at the second man, just younger, standing hunched against the side of the SUV, clutching a single small backpack that hangs off one shoulder. “This is the situation?”

“Yeah.” Paul sighs, rubbing at his face with one hand. “This boy popped up at my door a couple of weeks ago, half-starved and pretty clearly abused, and he’s being strenuously hunted. We’ve had three close calls in a week. I had to make a choice, and… you know, I trust you to keep him safe, and I had to get him out of state, as far as I could go. I hate to uproot him when he hadn’t even settled yet, but…”

“Yeah, no, yeah, I get it. I just had a bed open up, Trevor moved in with some roommates in Nevada, did I tell you? All of them former rescues, too, so he’s got good support right there. There’s a coffeeshop owned by someone whose daughter is in the movement who agreed to train him as a barista.”

“Good, good. Trevor’s a good kid, I liked him. This one…” Paul takes a deep breath. “He’s sweet, Nat. But... he’s scared.”

“They all come to us scared,” Nat says, unbothered, giving a shrug and putting her hands in her pockets. “Any memories?”

“Nope. He’s blank, still. I haven’t… he hasn’t even been with us long enough for therapy. But, here, let me introduce you.” Paul steps back, and the young man with the backpack steps forward. He’s wearing the rescue uniform, more or less - sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, nearly every ounce of skin covered, only his neck and face visible, the backs of his hands. “He named himself a couple of days ago. This is Antoni.”

He’s like them all, in his way - nervous and wide-eyed, young and beautiful, afraid of her and drawn to her. She can see the signs without even having to consciously notice them - the mop of dark hair in bad need of a good cut, the fear in his eyes, the way he’s skin and bones even underneath the baggy clothes designed to hide a body that didn’t belong to him for too long. 

“Hello, m-ma’am,” The boy says, quietly, his dark, slightly feline eyes flickering from her to Paul, seeking reassurance or praise for making the right choice. 

Nat’s head cocks to the side, and she notes the way the boy flinches a little at the quick movement. He’s a skittish one - that usually means violence was a part of his daily life, and he’ll need to learn how to live without fearing it. “Does he have…”

“An accent? Yeah. Eastern European or Russian or something. Says he only speaks English, but... sometimes he speaks something else. He doesn’t seem to notice when he does it.” Paul turns, and holds out his hand, gesturing the young man forwards. 

Nat watches the boy give a wide berth to Paul’s hand, the way his long fingers clutch more tightly at the backpack strap on one side and the hem of his shirt. He turns to look towards the entrance of the subdivision that never was, watching for cars who might have tracked them, and Nat’s eyes widen - and then she forces her expression back to neutral before the boy can notice - as she sees the bright red, still-healing circular burn on the side of the boy’s neck. “Paul, are we dealing with-”

“Don’t know.” Paul sighs. “Hasn’t even been safe long enough to get a doctor out to give him a checkup. We’ve kept him moving from house to house to house without even taking a deep breath, so… he could use a rest.”

There are deep, deep shadows under the young man’s eyes, settling above his starkly carved cheekbones, and she… she can’t argue with Paul’s assessment. This is a boy who needs a week of sleep, a month of safety, to even begin rebuilding. “Fair enough. You go on ahead, we’ll give it ten or fifteen and then head out.”

“Perfect. I’ll give you a call in a couple days, see how he’s settling in. That sound all right?”

“Works for me.” Natalie watches the new rescue - Antoni - as Paul climbs back into his SUV, turns the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to nearly-silent life. Antoni doesn’t look back at him like some rescues do, desperate for a final glance. He only steps away, to give the vehicle more space, as Paul gives them one last wave and drives away.

The boy’s expression is unreadable, as Paul’s SUV turns left out of the subdivision, and he disappears into the growing night. She can’t tell if he cares, and she can’t tell if he doesn’t care. There’s nothing in his eyes at all but that same darkness.

Nat sighs. Well, they’ll figure it out as they go, or they won’t. “Okay, Antoni, my name is Natalie Yoder. I’m house mom for a safehouse you’ll be staying in from here on out.”

The boy looks back at her, and his dark eyes are fathomless and deep. “Okay, Natalie Yoder,” He says, and yes, that’s definitely an accent that softens his vowels, changes the consonants a little. She can’t quite name the accent, but… he definitely has one. 

“Call me Nat. I live down in the city-” She gestures behind her, vaguely. “And I’ve got a house there with some others like you, all right? We can keep you safe here. You did the first big thing, you walked away. Now it’s up to us to help you with the rest.” She holds out her hand, and - just as she thought - the young man jerks violently backwards, nearly tripping on himself, his shoulders hunched defensively nearly up to his chin.

Nat lets her hand drop.

“I, I do not… touch,” The young man says, clinging to his backpack strap. Nat lets her hand drop, watching the fear tightening his features, setting his jaw to trembling, flashing a hint of his teeth. “Please, please, I do not-... I do not touch.”

Nat puts both hands up in an I’m innocent gesture, taking one step back and then another, giving him some space to get around her. “That’s okay. You don’t have to, not with me and not at the house, not at all.”

The boy stares at her, and the sun is setting rapidly this far up in the hills, taking the hint of golden light that falls across his face and dimming it. “Please,” He whispers, and the sound barely carries to her. “Please, I, I cannot-... please-”

“That’s just fine,” Nat says, pitching her own voice lower, soothing. “You’re still fine, Antoni.” When he doesn’t relax, Nat swallows against her own reflexive distaste and adds, “You’re still a good boy.”

There it is. His shoulders relax, and he lets out a breath, an audible exhale, stepping a little closer to her. “I am? If I do not touch, still?”

Nat presses her lips together, wondering if Paul’s report that this new rescue was a Domestic holds water at all. Not that designations mean shit to people with no empathy and total control over another human being… “Yes, Antoni. You’re still good. Let’s get in the truck and head back, yeah? Can you get in the truck for me? I’ll stay right here.”

Simple, easy directions, and a safe distance. Antoni moves around her to the passenger side of the truck, and she gives him the time he needs, pulling her phone out from her back pocket to text Jake that the new rescue is here, and she’ll be heading home with him shortly.

Cool ok, comes Jake’s fast reply. Kauri’s a mess. Fever’s up and he took all his clothes off and got in bed.

Please don’t tell me your bed.

What do you think? He’s back on the couch and dressed though. I gave him something for the fever. Call Masood in the morning? This shit isn’t strong enough.

Nat knows how that feels.

By the time she gets into the driver’s seat, Antoni has himself settled, seatbelt buckled, hands in his lap, and… his backpack is firmly stuck between the two of them, right in the center of the seat, a slight barrier but a barrier nonetheless. 

He’s only been out for two weeks. He probably has some toiletries and a change of clothes or two in there, and that’s it. Maybe a book if he was allowed to remember how to read. But any way of giving himself space is better than no space at all.

When she reaches down to shift gears, Antoni flinches away, pressing himself to the inside of the door, his dark eyes locked on her hand.

“It’s a stick shift,” Nat says, softly. “I’m going to do this a lot. I’m not trying to touch you.”

His eyes move, reluctantly, from her hand to her face. “Please,” He says, and his voice is soft, and perfectly pitched. He’s been trained to beg, Nat thinks - she’s seen that before. She’s heard this voice before. “Please, please do not touch me. I will be good, whatever you need, just… do not touch.”

Nat takes a deep breath and rests her foot on the gas, cautiously moving out of the cul-de-sac and back onto the road, leaving the subdivision that never was, with its overgrown grass and brambles and the hot autumn winds blowing hard enough to rattle the dried-out leaves in the trees, behind. 

One new rescue, still sick from an infected wound, who can’t stop trying to touch everything that moves and has tried to talk Jake into bed at least three times - and one new rescue with an unmistakable cigarette burn on his neck who is so scared of being touched he starts begging before Nat can even get him home.

“This should be fun,” She mutters, not aware she’s even spoken aloud.

I am sorry. Antoni mouths the words, but Nat isn’t looking at him, and she doesn’t see him do it. As they drive down the hills towards the city, with its twinkling lights, he watches out the window, looking he hopes towards the north, wondering if he can ever apologize enough to earn forgiveness for the choice he made to leave the woman behind and run.

His right hand moves, pressing into his left arm, rubbing his thumb again and again over a certain spot just inside his wrist, rubbing right through the ribbed knit of the cuff of his sleeve, pressing and pressing and pressing until he feels the healing burn break open again, the bright flash of pain.

He relaxes a little, eyes closing, leaning heavily against the door as Nat turns on the radio and grumbles about what counts as classic rock now. 

It’s not that the ashtray, who has chosen the name Antoni, hates being touched.

It’s that he doesn’t deserve touch that doesn’t hurt.

---

Tagging @astrobly​, @finder-of-rings​, @burtlederp​ @slaintetowhump​ @moose-teeth​ @dhiabori @oofowouchies @doveotions​

#antoni sings lullabies #trauma recovery #recovering whumpee #touch aversion #touch averse whumpee #trauma recovery whump #burns tw #scars #scarring #self-injury tw #(reopening a wound) #natalie yoder: here to help the rescues #box boy #box boy universe #box boy multiverse

[secret-engima]

I’ve had a bad day so... anything about any of your rwby aus you wanna share? ❤️

Awwww, I’m sorry to hear that Anon! Would a few snips help? I think I have a few snips around here somewhere *dives into doc* *reemerges* I come bearing snips! I apologize that most of them are angsty! But I have what I have ^^;

Always I Dreamed:

     “You don’t actually have a plan do you?” Raven hissed to Summer as they pressed their backs against the same piece of cover, trying to catch their breath.

     Summer leaned around the corner, snapped off a shot to keep the Grimm from punching Qrow off the cliff, “I do! It’s just a work in progress! And it would have been a lot easier if that pillar hadn’t crumbled the wrong way.”

     Raven knew what was likely to blame for that, but didn’t bother to say, “Pro tip? If you can think of some way for your plan to go really, stupidly wrong, assume it will and have a backup plan.”

     They rolled away from cover and dodged the rock fragments as the Grimm angrily shattered the stone they had been hiding behind, Summer snapped off another shot without looking through her scope and made a face, “Well I don’t see you coming up with any ideas!”

     “I’m not the one who insisted she had a plan.”

     Taiyang slammed his feet down onto the Grimm’s head from where he’d jumped off a high ruin, front flipped off its skull with another hard kick, and rolled under it’s answering fist, “Well you’re one of the people who might die without one, so maybe give it a shot?”

...

Wolfcury (in which Taiyang attempts to tame a smol child large wolfdog:

     “Well,” Taiyang managed once his ears had stopped ringing, “that could have gone a lot better.”

     “It could have gone a lot worse too,” Summer pointed out, “he retreated rather than attacked.” They both shared a solemn look. They knew that if Taiyang had kept pushing, had gotten too close, the wolfdog would have attacked him. Taiyang ran a hand through his hair, he didn’t know if he could fix something that broken. A trust that shattered.

     But the wolfdog had saved Ruby, and Ruby was still asking about him every time Summer went out to check on him. He owed it to the wolfdog to at least try to salvage whatever trust the animal’s previous owner had shattered into feral terror. And if he really, genuinely couldn’t … he wasn’t looking forward to explaining that to Ruby. Or dealing with the tears and fallout that would follow. They kept trying. Summer still checked on the bandages and brought water, but Taiyang was now in charge of the food. They hoped that associating him with food would help take the initial edge off, but while the howling and snapping didn’t make a reappearance after the first time, the wolfdog still strained to stay as far away as possible, and refused to eat while he was in the shed. Taiyang decided he needed to escalate just a bit, because it was quickly becoming clear that no amount of food bribery would help if the wolfdog was too terrified by his mere existence to eat around him and get the positive association.

     Taiyang brought home some supplies, sturdy wire fencing and wood to build a dog house, and soon Summer was gently leading the wolfdog out of the shed and into his new, fenced off area of the yard while Taiyang hid in the house to keep the wolfdog from panicking. Ruby was ecstatic to finally be able to see the wolfdog, even if she wasn’t allowed inside the fenced off area or to stick her fingers through the bars. Taiyang watched from a distance, letting Summer directly monitor the “visits” of their daughters to the wolfdog through the fencing. So long as the animal didn’t know Taiyang was nearby, the change in behavior was obvious. Still skittish and a touch wild, but shyer. Gentler. He even limped up and wagged his tail at Ruby through the fencing. It was just Taiyang that he was so mindlessly terrified of, and it made Taiyang feel angry in the pit of his stomach.

     This animal had been brave enough to try to fight off a Grimm to save Ruby, and while he seemed to have no idea what to do with affection, that shyly wagging tail and ginger acceptance of dog treats through the wire fencing proved the poor thing wasn’t naturally aggressive and hateful. Someone, some man, had beaten that fear into the wolfdog, that wild-eyed hate he could see in big grey eyes whenever Taiyang came too close. People like that could get eaten by Grimm in Taiyang’s opinion, and if he ever had the luck to run into the man who had hurt this dog… He shook that thought away —not for the first time and not for the last— and put the next stage of his plan into action.

     The first time he wandered out and sat down just on the other side of the wire fencing with a lap desk and a stack of school papers to grade, the wolfdog fled to the other side with a brief, swiftly cut off scream of fear. It stayed pressed into the farthest corner of fencing the three hours Taiyang sat with his back to the fence, grading the papers of his students at Signal and listening to his daughters play. Taiyang only looked at the animal to call a soft greeting when he got there, then to call a soft goodbye when he finally got up and went inside to cook dinner.

     He repeated the ritual three more times before the wolfdog finally dared to leave the corner and instead skirt furtively around the far side of his fenced in area, watching him with his grey tail tucked tight to his belly and hackles raised in something akin to anger. Taiyang just kept grading papers and writing up schedules and working on whatever other paperwork he could find. He’d thought about doing weapon maintenance out here, but chances were high the wolfdog would know what weapons were and be even more frightened of them, so he stuck to paper tasks, or just sitting with his back to the fence for three hours watching the girls play. He did his best to keep it to the same time each day, for the same amount of time.

     Day five and he heard it creeping closer before fleeing again several times. Day seven and he briefly felt hot breath against the back of his neck before it retreated. The wolfdog stopped fleeing to the far corner when Taiyang came outside, just hunkered down wherever it happened to already be and watched him with wary eyes. Day eight and he started bringing jerky with him, sliding a piece through the wire right where he usually sat before turning around and going back to his usual routine. It took until day ten before the wolfdog actually crept up close enough to snap up the jerky and flee to a “safe” distance again.

...

Dragon Yang:

     “Yang, wait! It’s me! It’s Qrow!”

     She hesitated. Stared at him, poised to go after him again, eyes flickering red, nostrils flared. She looked like she was on the edge of either a panic attack or trying to kill him again. Her fingers flexed, then her fists lowered. He wasn’t stupid enough to think she had relaxed. Her nostrils flared again, hair rippling almost like fire, which he hadn’t known it could do before now, “…Uncle Qrow?”

     Qrow nodded, tried to pitch his voice into something soothing, “It’s me, kiddo. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. But- Brothers, Yang, we’ve been worried sick.”

     Yang’s jaw worked, her face was almost eerily blank —like Raven at that age and older, and he didn’t like that thought or what it implied—, “Prove it.” Qrow faltered and her lips twitched like she wanted to bare her teeth at him, “Prove it. Prove you’re- that you’re my uncle.” Something bleak flickered over her face, hollow and fractured, before it was gone again, “Prove it to me.”

     Qrow dared to let go of Harbinger’s hilt. Yang was … he had no idea what had happened to her, but she looked cold and hard, scraped raw and hiding it for her own safety. Someone had torn his niece apart and molded her into something that could smash right through an experienced Huntsman’s Aura in three strikes and he seethed just thinking about it. But he couldn’t afford to be angry right now, not with Yang sizing him up as a potential enemy. So he spread his hands placatingly and scrambled for decent proof. I need a drink for this-, oh. “When you were eight, you wanted to make me a ‘welcome home’ gift. You decided to make brownies. But the house was out of milk, so instead of using tap water, you got it into your head for some reason to use the bottle of whisky that you weren’t supposed to know was under the sink. Your dad just about skinned me when he got home to find you and Ruby passed out drunk on the floor from ‘testing out’ the brownies.”

     Yang stared at him. Her hands slowly relaxed out of fists, “I was sick for the whole night and most of the day after. I hated it. Ruby kept throwing up. She was afraid to eat brownies for years after that…”

     “Because she thought they were cursed,” Qrow finished gently. Yang kept staring, expression so blank it was almost a cry for help. Qrow dared to take a step forward, “It’s me, Yang. I promise.”

     The tiniest shudder ran through her frame, like she was holding back from some greater response. She inhaled, exhaled slowly as the last of the glow faded from her hair, “I believe you.” Her voice cracked for just a moment before he saw her visibly wrestle it back under control, “I believe you.”

     Qrow dared to take a few more steps toward her, picking his way around the furrow he’d left in the ground, making sure that each movement was slow and obvious. She let him approach, didn’t tense up or turn wary as he came to a stop just in arm’s reach. She stared up at him with a mask of porcelain, fragile and dangerous, and Qrow pushed down both his fury and the urge to get drunk until he wasn’t angry anymore. Instead, he tried to smile, “Hey there, kiddo. We missed you.”

     She closed her eyes, her breath shook before she opened them again, “Missed you too, Uncle Qrow.”

     Qrow held his hands up a little higher, from placation to the offer of a hug, “Can I hug you, kiddo?”

     She swallowed, he caught the glimmer of longing in her eyes, “…Just … don’t touch my shoulders.”

     Qrow nodded and made a point to move slowly. He wanted to pull her close and squeeze her as tightly as he could, but he didn’t need to be a wise, quasi-immortal wizard like Oz to tell that was a bad idea. So instead of that, he very slowly stepped in and rested a hand on the small of her back and the back of her head, tucking her against his chest, head under his chin, like she was something fragile. She tensed in his arms, but didn’t pull away, and when he tentatively ran his fingers through her tangled mane of hair, the tension in her frame unwound so that she was slumped against him. They stood there for a while, Yang trembling faintly in his arms but not crying like he thought she probably needed to, her skin under his hand almost fever hot and worrying as Qrow tried not to hug too tight and ignored the burning in his own eyes.

#SE asks #anon asks #Secret Engima Rambles #Run Wolf Warrior verse #Dragon Yang verse #Always I Dreamed verse #Melodies and Manuscripts

[hopelikethemoon]

The Addition (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Addition  Rating: PG-13 Length: 3000 Warnings: None. Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in March 1997. This is the pupper. This is just a everything-and-the-kitchen-sink chapter.  Summary: Reader finally gets what she wants. 

Taglist:  @grapemama​  @seawhisperer​ @huliabitch​​ @pedropascalito​​ @rogrsnbarnes​​@thewallpapergoesorido​​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​​ @livasaurasrex​​ @ham4arrow​​@hiscyarika​​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73​​ @hdlynn​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​​@fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut​​ @just-add-butter​​ @snivellusim​​@amarvelousmandalorian​​ @lukesrighthand​​ @historynerd04​​@mrsparknuts​@synystersilenceinblacknwhite​​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​​@exrebelshocktrooper​​@awesomefandomsunited​​ @ah-callie​​ @swhiskeys​​ @lady-tano​​ @beskar-droids​​ @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​​ @longitud-de-onda​​ @cool-ultra-nerd​​ @himbopoes​​@findhimfives​​ @pedrosdoll​​

“You’re lucky I’m homebound,” You remarked as you settled into the chair beside Javier in the little doggie playroom. “I’d be here every day trying to adopt another one.” 

“We haven’t adopted this one yet.” 

“She’s perfect.” You looped your arm through his, leaning towards him to rest your cheek on his shoulder. “I hope she loves us.” 

“A little younger than we intended to get.” He pointed out, looking down at the little information card the man had given him to review while they got the dog ready to visit with them. “Two is still a puppy.” 

“Two is a full-grown dog.” You took the card from him and looked it over. “She’s supposed to be great with kids and calm.” 

“Two is still going to require exercise.” Javier gave you a look, a brow quirking upwards. 

“I can sit outside and drink my tea and let her run around the yard.” You waved your hand dismissively, “That’s the reason we have Josie. She can help her burn energy.”

“Is that why we have Josie?”

You nodded. “It was all a scheme to get a dog. Lance shot down the idea of getting one in Colombia so I went through a multi-year plan to have a baby with you, move to Florida, all so I could get a dog.” 

Javier snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, rubbing his hand over your shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” You knew he was worried, but he was slowly driving you crazy with asking you how you felt every thirty minutes. Pass out once and end up in the hospital… 

The door opened and the young man who had been helping the two of you entered with the beautiful dog at the end of a red leash. “We’ve been calling her Sasha, but she doesn’t really respond to it.” He explained to you.

The dog was a little skittish at first, keeping close to — you think his name was Owen — as she sniffed at the floor. 

“She’s beautiful.” You smiled, leaning forward and holding out your hand. “Any idea what she is?”

“Most likely a mutt.” He explained. “She was an owner surrender. They got reassigned out of the country.”

“Poor thing.” You clicked your tongue against your teeth. “Come here, sweetheart.”

Javier was watching you, his eyes flickering between you and the dog. “Looks like a mountain dog.”

“With some poodle, most likely.” Owen offered. “She won’t get much bigger. The vet’s checked her out and she’s done growing.”

“Good.” Javier, ran his hands over his legs before he shifted forward and held out his hand, much the same way you were.

The dog tugged at the lead, seeming far more keen now that both of you were interested in her. 

“Is she house trained?” Javier questioned. 

“And doesn’t pull when she goes on a walk.” Owen let go of the leash, letting her sniff her way closer to the pair of you. 

“Come here, girl.” You cooed, your smile broadening as she bounded towards you. She shoved her cool nose against your palm, licking at you curiously. 

Javier reached out and petted her back. “You’re a soft girl, aren't you?”

She wagged her tail, flopping onto her side and showing her belly to both of you.

“I think she likes you.” You teased, nudging Javier in the ribs. You looked up at Owen, grinning. “I think she’s the one.”

“Easy there,” Javier told you. “Isn’t there more we should do?”

Owen shook his head. “If you feel comfortable with her, we can start the outtake paperwork.”

You looked at Javier, pursing your lips. “Please? I mean, I’m coming back and getting her Monday even if you say ‘no’.”

“I am not going to say ‘no’.” He huffed, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head. “Like I’m about to deny a pregnant woman what she wants.” He muttered under his breath. 

“I’ll stay with her, if you want to start on the papers.” You told Javier with a grin. 

“Alicia will help you at the front desk.” Owen told Javier. 

The dog jumped up when Javier stopped petting her, propping herself up to rest her paws on his knees. 

“I’m screwed.” Javier laughed. “There’s three of you pulling this look now.”

You chuckled heartily. “Pretty soon you’ll be outnumbered four-to-one.”

“I was outnumbered when it was just you.” He kissed your cheek before he scooted the dog off his legs and got up. “Thanks.” Javier patted Owen on the shoulder as he walked past and headed out to the front desk.

“You’ve got yourself a new home, pretty girl.” You told the dog, scratching behind her ear. She was the absolute doppiest dog, lolling her head to the side with her tongue hanging out. 

“Any ideas on names?” Owen questioned you.

You glanced up, “Stevie.”

“Like Nicks?”

“Yeah, actually.” You laughed, looking back at the dog. “Are you a Stevie?”

She barked softly. 

“None of that.” You scrunched up your nose, rubbing at her head. “Javi will kill us both if you’re a barker.”

“Only when she gets excited.”

“We have an almost four-year-old who is much the same.” You laughed softly, patting your knees. 

Stevie jumped up and put her paws on your legs, leaning up to lick at your face. “You’re just so loving, aren't you?”

“When are you due?” Owen questioned. 

“Mid-to-late May.” You answered, glancing up at him. “I know it’s crazy to get a dog right before having a baby, but… I’m desperate.” 

“Is he not around a lot?” He nodded his head towards the door. 

“He’s around all the time,” You shrugged. “I just want a dog.” You scratched behind both of Stevie’s ears. “You’re going to be spoiled rotten.” 

“Ah, I see.” Owen leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. “I was going to suggest I could help you train her, if you were lonely.”

Your eyes snapped up. “Are you trying to come onto me?” Your head tilted back and you laughed — loudly. “Kid, he and I could find a dozen and a half ways to kill you with the dog toys in this room alone. I’m flattered, but no.” 

Color flooded his face. “I wasn’t… I’m sorry.” 

The door popped open and Javier emerged, “Well, baby. You’re the proud owner of a dog.” 

“Did you hear that, Stevie? You’re going home with us!” The dog barked again excitedly, her tail thumping against the floor. 

 —————

 Stevie alternated between being stretched out on the backseat of the Jeep and bouncing back and forth to look out the windows.

“Didn’t he say she was calm?”

“She’s been cooped up in a kennel for who knows how long, Javi. Let her be excited.” You rolled your eyes at him, laughing quietly. “He also tried to hit on me while you were gone.”

“Excuse me?” Javier cocked his head to the side as he stopped at a light. “He did what?”

“I’m impressed that this,” You gestured to your stomach. “isn’t an instant detractor.” 

“I keep telling you, you look good.” He reached over and gave your knee a squeeze, fingers playing little patterns there. Some things never changed. “What’d you say?”

You caught his hand, bringing it to your stomach to stop the patterns he was drawing on your leg. “I told him I could kill him a dozen different ways.” 

“Baby!” Javier laughed, pushing his sunglasses up his brow. “You can’t just threaten to kill people.” 

“Has it ever stopped me before?” You questioned, sliding his hand to the spot where the baby was kicking. “I also said you’d kill him. I find murder tends to distract from attempts to hit on someone.” 

Javier rubbed his thumb over your stomach. “Someone’s excited.” You quipped, keeping his hand there as he started through the intersection. “You know, baby.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “I always thought your threats of violence were a turn on.” 

“Really?” You rolled your eyes. “That makes perfect sense with you, Javier.” You glanced over your shoulder to the backseat, pleased to see that Stevie had settled down. “I mean, we have established I’m a sadist.” 

“The truth comes out.” He reluctantly pulled his hand away so he could turn the corner. Once it was safe, he reached back over, letting you guide his hand back to the right spot. She had quieted a little, but that didn’t dissuade him from keeping his hand there. Just in case. 

“Thank you for agreeing to Stevie.” 

“You did get Josie in on the plan.” He quipped with a chuckle. “It’s all good, baby. After everything you’ve been through, you deserve a dog.” He gave her leg a squeeze, before gripping at the steering wheel. 

 ———

 “Like Uncle Steve?” Josie questioned as she laid on the floor, on her back, beside Stevie. You were pleased with how quickly the two had bonded with each other. One hour at home and Stevie was sprawled out on the floor beside her human-sibling. 

“Yep.” Javier confirmed with a nod as he cracked open a bottle of beer, taking a swig before he moved to join you on the sofa. “Just like Uncle Steve.”

“Technically, Stevie Nicks…” You corrected. “But mostly to torture Steve.” 

Monica laughed as she looked up from the book she was reading. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who named their dog to spite their best friend.” She looked at Javier pointedly.

“I don’t know what heinous lies the Murphys have fed you, but… I don’t know if I’d call him my best friend.” Javier protested with a roll of his eyes, sipping at his beer. 

“Ignore him.” You remarked, stretching out lengthwise on the sofa and stretching your legs over his. “We moved all the way to Miami just so he could hang out with Steve.” 

“Wait, really?” Monica’s brows rose upwards. “I don’t think you ever mentioned this in class.”

Javier dragged his hand over his face, before scratching at the back of his neck. “I knew it was a half-decent place to raise a family.” He squeezed your calf. “And I liked the prospect of Josie having a readymade friend in Olivia.”

“And Emily, daddy.” Josie reminded him, rolling onto her side to pet Stevie. She lifted her head, looking towards her. The dog sighed contentedly and shuffled on the floor closer to Josie. 

“Emily wasn’t here yet, Josie.” He took another swig of beer before he sat the bottle aside. “If I’d known Miami would be hot as fuck like Colombia—”

“Fuck!” Josie shouted, causing you to jerk upright, turning to stare at her. 

“Joséfina Selina Peña!” You raised your voice slightly and instantly regretted it when you saw Monica flinch in reaction to it. Stevie started barking, bouncing around confusedly as Josie scrambled towards the sofa.

“Mommy! I didn’t mean to say it.” Josie flashed you her best attempt at a charming grin. “I’m sorry mommy!” 

Javier picked her up and settled her onto the sofa between the two of you. “JoJo, you can’t be saying those words.”

She hid her face in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, hey.” You played with her curls. “It’s okay, babydoll. I’m not mad. You just can’t be saying that.” 

“But daddy says it.”

You swatted him in the arm. “And he’s been told not to. Haven’t you, Javier?”

He rocked his jaw and sighed. “Yeah. Josie, you can’t say that, okay?”

“But why?”

“They’re grown-up words.”

“Like grown-up drinks?” She looked at you then. “Why don’t you drink grown-up drinks?”

“Because they’re bad for babies. Like you and your sister.” You rested your hand on your stomach. “I’m not mad at you, Josie. But we have a swear jar for a reason.”

“It sounded funny when daddy said it.” 

“Daddy shouldn’t have said it around you.” Javier sighed heavily and pulled Josie into his lap. “Try not to say it again, okay?” He kissed the top of her head.

“Okay.” Josie turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Can I please play with Stevie now?”

“Yes, baby. You can play with Stevie.” You leaned over and kissed her cheek, rubbing your nose against it. “Just watch your mouth.” 

She made a dramatic kissing sound as she returned the kiss. She wiggled out of Javier’s arms and moved to slide off the sofa. She crawled, on her hands and knees, towards Stevie who already seemed very amused. 

“You guys are good parents.” Monica remarked, looking between the two of you. “Josie and the baby are lucky to have perfect parents.”

Javier draped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “We’re certainly not perfect.” He squeezed your shoulder three times.

“We’re just two people trying to do right by our kids.” 

“Which includes you.” Javier told Monica, letting go of you so he could grab his beer, taking a drink. He crossed his leg over his knee and rested the beer on his ankle as he sank back against the sofa. 

Monica’s brows furrowed, “What?”

You laughed softly, patting Javier’s leg. “I decided that we’ve unofficially adopted you. Your parents might have brought you into the world, but we’re going to make sure you thrive in it.” 

She stared at you. “I really don’t deserve that.”

“You’re a good kid, Monica.” You smiled at her. “You deserve a good life.” 

“Thank you.” Monica rubbed the sleeve of her sweatshirt under her nose. “You’re going to make me cry again.”

Stevie jumped up suddenly and started barking. 

“Hush!” Javier clapped his hands, sitting his beer aside as he got up off the sofa. “What is it?” He questioned, kneeling down in front of Stevie. She bounced a little, barking again as the doorbell sounded. 

“I’ll get it,” You sighed, peeling yourself off the sofa and making your way towards the front of the house. You peered through the window, looking to see who was at the door. “Are you fucking kidding me?” 

Of course, it just had to be one of the moms from ballet. Javier was right, you were leaving that studio as soon as you got back out into the world. 

You pulled the door open, hands on your hips. “Can I help you Chelly?”

“Oh.” She laughed nervously, giving you a wary look. “I was just dropping off this beef casserole. Missy mentioned seeing Javier at the grocery store and I thought…” She tilted her head. “She made it sound like you weren’t up and about.”

You glared at the woman, “Missy is prone to overdramatizing situations.” 

“Baby, who is it?” Javier called out from the family room. Stevie was still barking and now, given from what you could hear, Josie had decided to join in. 

“Chelly.”

“Who?” He questioned. 

“From dance.” You called back to him, before you turned your attention back to the woman. God, these women needed a fucking hobby that was something other than chasing after Javier’s cock. “I appreciate the casserole, but Javier has dinner covered.” You fixed her with a faux-smile. “And I don’t eat beef.”

“You shouldn’t make him work so hard,” She told you with a tone that made you want to throttle her. “I’m sure he’d appreciate this casserole.” 

You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, staring at her as you considered your plan of action here. You stepped out onto the brick stoop, pulling the door closed behind you. “I’m only going to say this one time, Chelly so listen. And you can take this back to your little friends and tell them what a horrid bitch I am.” You crossed your arms across your chest, “I know what you’re doing. You heard I was in the hospital — smelt blood in the water. This vulture act is going to stop. Now. If I catch another one of you sniffing around my family, I’m going to make you regret it.”

“It’s just a casserole—”

“It’s not.” You snapped, fingers curled into fists. “I’m not an idiot.” You narrowed your eyes. “I didn’t put up with six years of bullshit working for the DEA to put up with this shit from a bunch of high strung, horny, dance moms.” 

“I don’t—”

“I guess I should thank you,” You said snidely, a slight smirk playing over your lips. “Last time I saw you, you thought you were clever by insinuating that Javier was fucking his students.” Oh, the irony of the current situation. “It inspired a rather fun afternoon fuck for us. So thanks, Chelly.” 

She looked mortified and it really only seemed to fuel you. 

“So take your casserole and fuck off.” 

Chelly started to say something, but you were quick to cut her off. 

“I don’t want to hear your voice” You snapped, taking a step forward. The door opened behind you and you turned around to meet Javier’s eyes. “I have it handled.” 

“Alright, baby.” He said with a faint smile, before he closed the door back.

You looked back at Chelly. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m… so sorry.” 

“Yeah, it’s a little late for that.” Your brows rose upwards. “And tell your friends they can fuck off too.” With that you, headed back inside — nearly crashing into Javier who had been, unsurprisingly, waiting right on the other side of the door. “Hi.”

“You’re a fucking force, baby.” He grinned at you, that look of sheer adoration making your heart ache in the best of ways. 

“We don’t have to deal with them anymore.” You told him with a resolute nod. “Where are the kids?”

“Monica took Stevie and Josie out back.” He grinned at you, “Did you really just tell her to fuck off?”

“This door is surprisingly thin, apparently.” You laughed as you stepped towards him. You reached up, tracing your fingers over his cheek and the soft scruff there. “Yeah. I did. It was pretty spectacular. She might cry in her minivan.” 

Javier leaned down and kissed you. “I love you.” 

You brushed your nose against his. “Right back at you, babe.” 

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader

[wizardofahz]

Fulfilling the Lie

A/N: I cannot get the idea of Alex with a skittish biter of a cat out of my head (thank you, Kara), so here we go.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Alex pulls into the parking lot of the animal shelter. 

Kara had asked Alex to come, specifically in her car, not on her motorcycle, and Alex wonders if Kara had gone there to do research for a fluff piece, been stuck with a well-meaning worker, who wouldn’t let her sneak off to fly away, and had therefore been forced to ask Alex for a ride. 

But Kara is standing outside the front doors all alone, waving for Alex to get out of the car.

Alex parks and does as requested. 

“Hey, do you need a ride or something?” she asks as she approaches even though that no longer seems like a plausible reason for her presence.

“No,” Kara says, confirming her suspicions. “Or well, I won’t be the one needing a ride.”

That response provides more questions than answers. Alex settles with a simple, “What?”

And then Kara is gushing words, rambling, telling Alex about having to get away from William for Supergirl business–Alex quickly looks around to make sure no one’s around to overhear–and maybe, just maybe, she made up this one eensy-weensy, teenie-weenie, little lie about needing to look after her sister’s cat, who William definitely couldn’t meet because he’s shy and tends to bite when he's feeling skittish. Only now William’s on forced R&R on account of being shot, and he’s still insisting he’s great with cats, and maybe getting to meet Alex’s cat will make him feel better.

Alex feels her eyebrows geting closer and closer with every word as her brow furrows with consternation. “So you’re making me get a cat because you’re a terrible liar?”

“No!” Kara insists hastily. “Not making you get a cat... per se. More like, giving you the opportunity to get a cat.”

Alex looks at her very earnest little sister and sighs. “I’m not getting a cat,” she says in the plainest terms possible.

“You don’t know that,” Kara responds, as stubborn as ever. “You could fall in love with one today. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to look, right?”

“Kelly is allergic to cats,” Alex says. There it is, her winning hand.

“But she’s not as deathly allergic to them as she is to blueberries,” Kara responds immediately. “I already asked, and I know a bunch of people who are allergic to cats but own one.”

“Kara.” Alex takes a breath, allowing herself a moment to put how ridiculous this all is into words. “For this to work, I can’t just get any cat. I have to get a skittish cat who bites.”

Somehow Kara does not see this as a problem. “Not really! William said he’s good with cats. We can just pretend that your nice cat is being nice for him.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Alex hums skeptically.

But when Kara gets an idea, she is an unstoppable force. Alex knows this well and lets herself be led into the shelter with little resistance.

Kara tells the volunteer at the front desk that they’re interested in getting a cat– interesting word choice, Alex thinks considering only one of them will be the new potentional owner–and they’re soon led to the cat wing. Kara takes her time at every cage, cooing over the cats and telling them how cute they are. The volunteer stays with Kara, indulging her with stories about each one despite the fact that each has a little write up about them on their cage doors.

Alex strolls down the corridor without pause, eyes bouncing back and forth to glance at the cages on both sides. The cats get progressively older as if the shelter knows they’re less likely to be adopted and doesn’t want to force people to walk farther than they need to.

One of the cats at the end is definitely not as old as its neighbors. The black cat is tiny, scrawny and disheveled, and huddling at the back of the cage. The write up reveals that it is estimated to be about a year old but not much else. The tiny cat growls at her.

Alex hitches a shoulder against the wall. “I know. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?” she tells it.

The cat growls again, louder this time.

“I’m not getting a cat.”

The cat hisses.

Alex takes it as a sign of agreement. “This is a farce,” she continues as she watches Kara slowly make her way down the corridor. 

The cat inches forward.

“I mean, you guys are great and everything, but what am I supposed to do with a cat?”

Another hiss.

“I can’t even get my life together enough to finalize an adoption.”

The cat inches forward again.

“Not that there’s any rush.”

A small mewling sound.

“Besides, this is still a big decision. I can’t do something like this on a whim because Kara is a terrible liar.”

The cat is at the front of the cage now.

“You guys deserve better than that.”

Tiny claws begin scratching furiously at the door. Alex looks on unfazed. She’s experienced scarier with upset DEO prisoners.

The cat stills and stares at her.

Kara and the volunteer finally reach the end of the corridor. Kara frowns at the nondescript write up for the cat Alex has been talking to and asks about it.

“Oh, someone found this little guy in the streets a few months ago,” the volunteer says. “Judging by his size, he was probably the runt of the litter. He’s a feisty little thing.”

As if on cue, the cat begins scratching furiously at the door again.

“Anyway,” the volunteer continues dismissively as if a mere three sentences about this particular cat is bordering on too many, “we have a play area where you can spend some time with any of the cats you’re interested in, you know, to make sure they’re a good fit.”

Kara turns to Alex. “What do you think?”

Something about the volunteer’s tone rubs Alex the wrong way, so she says, “This one.”

Kara merely tilts her head, but the volunteer nearly balks. “What?”

“This one,” Alex repeats.

The cat growls and swipes a paw through the cage door.

“Uhh, okay,” the volunteer says slowly, appearing to draw out the words to give Alex time to change her mind. When she doesn’t, the volunteer sighs. “I’ll get this little guy into a carrier. Why don’t you guys go ahead to the play room? It’s back the way we came in and then two lefts. I’ll meet you there.”

Alex and Kara walk back down the corridor. Behind them prolonged hissing and some muffled expletives mix together, and Kara asks, “Are you sure about this?”

Alex shrugs. “About getting him? No. But I figured he deserves the chance to get out of the cage for a little bit. Besides, he doesn’t remind you of Streaky?”

“Lookwise, maybe,” Kara says, “but personality? Nope.”

The wait time is longer than they expect, but when the volunteer finally arrives, it’s apparent why. He has a grimace on his face and scratches on his hands and forearms. He releases the cat by Alex and Kara and then quickly retreats to the other end of the room.

The cat looks equally upset, though that seems to be his typical expression. Kara reaches out but quickly recoils when the cat swipes a paw at her. She tries a few more times, cooing reassuring phrases, to no avail.

Alex makes no attempt to touch the cat. She sits back and watches. It’s not a very big space, and the cat seems to realize Alex is the least likely person to bother him. He slinks around her and settles into the corner. 

Alex is content to let him be. Kara follows her lead and makes no further attempts at petting him. They start up a conversation, mostly reminiscing about Streaky.

The volunteer transitions from upset to bored. When he approaches them, the cat hisses and moves, so that Alex is directly between them.

“So what do you think?” the volunteer asks.

Alex may not like his attitude, but she understands that getting scratched repeatedly by an angry cat is not the fun part of his job. “That was great. Thanks,” she says. “But I’m not sure if he’s the one for me.”

Her mind begins to change when she heads for the door. The cat follows her, and like before, he seems to orient himself so that she’s always between him and the volunteer.

Alex looks down at the cat. Then she glances at Kara. They’re not that different in a way, Alex thinks. The cat probably just needs a little love, patience, and understanding. If she could handle a newly arrived Kryptonian, who didn’t know how to control her powers and was prone to spontaneous heat vision bursts when she was upset, Alex figures she can handle a feral rescue with sharp claws and pointy teeth.

“Actually–” Alex crouches down to look the cat in the eyes. “–what do you say? Do you want to come home with me?” She doesn’t receive a hiss or a swipe to the face, which she takes as a yes. She looks up at the volunteer. “I’ll take him.”

Kara’s grin is the very definition of smug.

“What?”

“I was so right about the type of cat you’d pick.”

...

“Alex.”

“Hmm?”

“Alex.”

The more insistent tone in Kara’s voice finally has Alex turning away from the kitchen counter where she’s preparing snacks for movie night. Kara is grateful for the snacks, but at the moment she has another problem.

“Your cat is using me as a scratching post.”

Alex watches Grim for a moment before saying, “Better you than the furniture, I guess.”

It’s been two weeks since Alex got Grim. She had chosen the name based on his black fur coat and his ability to strike fear in the hearts of anyone who isn’t Alex or Kara. Honestly Kara doesn’t know why she expected anything else.

“Thanks, I’m really feeling the love,” Kara snarks. “I don’t mind really, but it’s gonna be weird when we’re around someone who doesn’t know I’m Supergirl. I should be bleeding, you know.”

Alex smirks and then returns to preparing snacks. “Well, you need to learn to set proper boundaries. You let him get away with scratching you, so he’s gonna keep doing it.”

“It’s the only time he lets me near him,” Kara whines.

Alex brings two bowls–popcorn and trail mix–and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s to the couch. “Kara, that’s not the basis for a healthy relationship.” 

Kara helps Alex lay everything out on the coffee table. The moment Alex sits, Grim relocates to her other side, curling into her body. Alex places the popcorn bowl in her lap. Kara grabs the tub of ice cream.

“He’ll warm up to you,” Alex says, scratching Grim’s neck. “It took me a while too, remember? Now look at us.”

“Uh huh,” Kara says skeptically. “How’re Grim and Kelly getting along?”

“Oh.” Alex’s face falls. “Uh, I started going to Kelly’s place more. Kelly thought she’d be fine if she gave him space and took her allergy meds, but Grim’s kinda territorial, especially around me.”

Kara reaches for some popcorn and ends up with a cat instead. 

“You don’t say,” she says as she holds up her hand. Grim dangles from her fingers, latched on only with a determined bite. His paws swipe at Kara’s wrist and forearm. “You know what? I cannot do this to William. He can’t meet Grim. He'll shred him apart.”

Alex shoots Kara an exasperated look. “Let me get this straight. You made me get a cat, so that William could meet him, but now you’re refusing to let them meet?”

Kara smiles sheepishly. “At least you got a cat out of it?”

#supergirl #alex danvers #kara danvers #danvers sisters #moments in the life of superfam

[hhyacinthy]

sawamura daichi x reader

day 5: favorite captain

summary: fluff. you recognize that pretty lil’ fireman from somewhere. 

t/w: n/a

a/n: you realize i had to, right? fireman daichi > policeman daichi.

There is a word for people like him. You imagine it while the bus lurches underneath you and his eyes are focused on a man with his nose buried in a book. This man is a mountain. Not that he’s tall, but he looks insurmountable and unapproachable nevertheless. His hand clings tightly to a pole, somehow keeping himself afloat with the way the bus lurches back and forth. You’ve seen him squared away, always in that same position for a couple days now, though you met him no more than a month ago.

Lights flash outside of your home, blinding as you stand idly by. You are almost frightened that the wailing will cause a disaster, not that you aren’t already drowning in one. Leaves crunch under foot soon after the noise has died and your eyes are torn from the tree to view the man cautiously inching closer.

His eyes are on the kitten when he speaks, “is she yours?” Your cheeks burn when you come to the realization that he has come from the fire truck. A black shirt is pulled taut across his muscles and baggy pants are tied tightly around his waist in what must be his uniform. And your flagrant staring has pulled his focused gaze from that of your cat.

“Uh, yeah, he is,” the breath you exhale is quiet. A reply he can barely hear when the wind picks up and a neighbor’s recently raked leaves are scattered.

The two of you are silent. And to be fair, he rarely has to fish cats out of trees. Had the child across the street not felt compelled to call it in, he would not have shown up nor crossed gazes with the odd person in front of him — barefoot and wrapped in a thick blanket whilst parked outside of a small apartment complex.

As the silence grows insurmountable, your mouth draws open almost instinctively, “he’s not . . skittish.” Your brows furrow and you can see the man’s face grow pink. “His name’s Kuroo and he’s just obstinate.”

It is just like that that a bout of laughter escapes from his lips. A torrid, lively laughter that sounds like it has been building for years and has only now sprouted a fountain. All for you to see: doubling over, holding his gut. As odd as it is, the cold you are hiding out from beneath the weight of fleece is no longer quite as unbearable. And yet, you wonder what must be so funny — as the stirring of Kuroo amid the branches echoes your own curiosity.

The handsome stranger regains his kindly nature only after a few more moments, and you find that when he throws his head back up, his eyes glimmer with humor and bliss, and his dark hair needs a hand to sweep it out of the way of his beautiful features. “I’m so sorry; I know someone with the same name is all.” There is an instant that passes between the two of you then. When your eyes hold his for a second too long. You think that this must be that electric spark people speak of, but instead it makes you shiver — the autumn’s chilly weather finally sinking back into your bones. And he is moving, to pretend like it didn’t happen.

You smell him when he walks by. The scent of smoke and sweat and chivalry. It is not a pleasant smell, but you don’t turn away from the scene unfolding in front of you. Gentle cooing and clicking spilling from between the man’s lips, discolored elbows and arms reaching up to coax the grown cat from the tree. He must have fallen a lot as a child, but somehow watching him, you doubt this man could be clumsy.

“You’re not going to —“ grab a ladder or something.

No, you suppose he isn’t. At least not when devious cats jump into his arms like he’s some kind of feline messiah. Must be why he became a fireman.

“Easy enough,” he grunts, turning to lift little Kuroo into your embrace, “you really should be careful about letting your black cat out this time of year.”

Clearly, you had not meant to get him stuck in a tree. In fact, had moving not been such a feat, you wouldn’t have allowed him the chance to escape at all. But whatever banter you’d be delighted to share is paused by the warmth of his bare forearms when you scoop Kuroo up. Your heart stops, then restarts and you find that he is already looking at his watch. Of course he has somewhere to be. Fires to douse. Damsels to charm. Kittens to sweep into his beautifully sculpted arms.

“Can I give you my number?” The suggestion slips past before it fully forms in your mind. Your brows furrow, mouth hung gently ajar. How you let that slip out, you’re uncertain.

“Are you sure?” He returns cautiously, reading your expression like you are a children’s picture-book. And had your heart been frozen, he would have thawed it with that simple, gentlemanly question. He just looks like someone you’d want to fall in love with, concern written across his face.

You only stir from your thoughts when Kuroo does. Maybe eager to climb back into a tree that is too tall for any normal person, or to dive into the firefighter’s embrace. “Yeah, of course. My name’s (Y/N). Is it alright if . . .” and you continue on, till he hands you a slender phone and your fingers are deftly typing in numbers and your devilish cat is attempting to escape and his dark, honest eyes are broken from yours to jog back to the large truck he must have known would have been no use being as compassionate as he is. It is minutes after the truck has turned a corner and Kuroo has been shuttered away that you realize you typed the wrong number in.

It's this act of remembering that forces you to squeeze past the old lady tucked on your right and nearly plunge headfirst into the aisle -- had a handsome stranger not so kindly softened your fall. Not knowingly, of course. And though it’s the same, you’re worried you might have hurt him, tumbling into his back and using him as a life preserver. You do no mistake the groan of pain for anything more, not when he turns about almost robotically to view the flustered, number-challenged cat-owner he had met not long ago.

“I -- I think I gave you the wrong number,” you breathe out and despite the bruise that must be forming on his back, his brow knits into concern again. That same caring expression that you couldn’t seem to wipe from your mind. “Also, I never got your name.”

You hope he might reward you with laughter, as he stares down at you, still folded against him when the bus suddenly stops again. “Oh, yeah, of course,” and there it is, his darling chuckle, “it’s Sawamura, Sawamura Daichi.”

#daichi x reader #haikyuucreations #sawamura daichi #haikyuu!! #haikyu #daichi x you #daichi x y/n #daichi #daichi sawamura x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #daichi imagine #third time is a charm right #pls tell me this is going to show up in the tags pls

[ddaengyoonmin]

@kpopgirlbtssvt hope you like it 💜💜💜

Word count: 2.4k

Pairing: bunny hybrid!Jungkook x Human!reader

Fluff, slight angst?

Warnings: panic attack

————————————-

“For the millionth time no!” you groaned at your best friend Jin.  

“Y/n I’m telling you it’s not a bad thing to have a hybrid”

You wholeheartedly disagree, but Jin was fixated on the idea that you living alone was dangerous and you needed someone to protect you. You didn’t like the idea of owning a hybrid, it felt so wrong the way people bought and sold them as pets when they didn’t seem too far off from people themselves.

Somehow Jin had tricked you by telling you he was driving you to a new restaurant you’d never been to and here you were in front of the hybrid shelter.

Even just the look of the shelter felt wrong to you.  A tall gloomy gray brick building that almost looked like a prison.  They had some half deflated red and yellow balloons hanging over the double doors to the front entrance with a drooping sign that read ‘Adoption Day Special’ in sloppily painted letters.

You rolled your eyes “Jin, If you weren’t the only friend I have right now I’d never talk to you again for this” you grumbled.

He swung an arm around your shoulders and chuckled. “Ah, I think you’ll thank me though.  I won’t force you to get one, but I’m dragging you in there to look, and I’m not taking no for an answer”

When the two of you walked in the door the building you were greeted by a perky young lady with a clipboard in her hand.  

“Hi! Welcome to Sunnyside Shelter, can I get you to sign in here?” She handed you the clipboard and you signed yourself in, giving your age and name and contact info.  You sighed and hoped that didn’t mean they’d be hounding you to adopt one of there hybrids from here on out.

After Jin put in his info you were ushered through some doors to look at the hybrids that were up for adoption.

To your surprise they weren’t in small metal cages like you had pictured them, though you still felt weird about the whole thing. They each had their own room with a bed and a few items to entertain themselves that suited the breed of hybrid that they were.  

You walked past each door looking through the clear glass in at each one until you stopped at one door.

A tall hybrid with black rabbit ears was looking down at you.  His face was gentle and he had a small smile placed on his lips.  He seemed lonely and slightly sad, like the smile was put there just so you wouldn’t feel like you had to pity him.  His eyes were wide and hopeful.  

“Can I meet this one?” you asked the lady touring you and Jin around the facility

Jins jaw dropped and he covered his mouth dramatically, he then leaned in close and whispered to you “I said you needed protection and you go for the bunny, that figures” he giggled.  You slapped his arm and glared at him.  

“I just want to meet him” you snapped.

The tour lady smiled and went to open the door to the rabbit hybrid’s room.  “He’s actually one of the hybrids that’s been here the longest, he’s a sweetheart but he's a bit shy so a lot of people don’t think to inquire about him.” she informed you. “You can go in there and meet him if you want, hes gentle” she added

You entered the small room and Jin waited for you outside.  

The rabbit hybrid had backed up all the way to the back wall of his room.

“Hi there” you spoke calmly, “I’m y/n, what's your name?”

He shuffled his feet and stared down at the floor “I’m Kookie” he mumbled

“Nice to meet you Kookie” you said with a big smile “Can we sit on your bed and talk for a second”

He nodded shyly and immediately sat down on his bed, you noticed how cute his tall black floppy ears looked.  You sat next to him as he nervously pulled on his fingers in his lap.

“I’ve never owned a hybrid before” you admitted to him

“I’ve never been owned before” he whispered in return.

“I don’t really know if I’d be the best owner, I don’t know the first thing about having a hybrid but I’d be kind to you” you told him

He lifted his head and smiled at you. “Y-you would want to adopt me?”

You nodded, not fully able to believe that you were doing this.  There was just something about this hybrid that made your heart scream out to you that you had to take him home with you.  His innocent eyes and his soft expressions told you that he needed you and maybe you needed him to.

“I would like that” he muttered as he dropped his head again looking into his lap.

You stood up and walked back to the door.  

“So what do I need to do to adopt him?” you asked the lady who stood by Jin.

Jin smirked and had an ‘I told you so’ look on his face.

“Come with me and I’ll get you the paperwork!” she said cheerily

You looked back at Kookie one last time before following her.  He seemed to pout slightly at you leaving.

You filled out everything you needed to and gave her the money for the adoption fee, then escorted you to a small shop they had in their building.  

“Here is where you can pick out a collar and leash for your hybrid, we require them to wear one when leaving the shelter” she informed you pointing to a wall of the collars and leashes that she was mentioning.

“Is that really necessary?” you winced, the idea of having to put a leash and collar on him reminding you that he was supposed to be a pet.  You still didn’t feel quite right about that.

“Its the law” she shrugged. “Hybrids have to stay on leash if they aren’t indoors.”

You frowned “Okay...well which one would be the most comfortable for him” you asked

She pointed you to a row of collars made of a softer material and you picked out a black one with a matching leash.

When you paid for that and got back out to the front of the building, two men had brought Kookie out and were waiting for you with Jin standing nearby.

Kookie beamed excitedly as soon as he saw you.  

“y/n!” he squeaked out softly, one of his ears perking up.

“Hi again Kookie, you ready to go home?”

He nodded cutely and you started to walk towards the door.

“The collar.” one of the men barked at you.

You groaned and spun around quickly latching the collar on Kookie’s neck as he bent down for you, leaning in close to his face as you did.  

“I’ll take this off as soon as I can okay” you whispered in his ear.

-------------------------------------------------------

The whole way home Kookie was quiet.  It seemed he was nervous to be around Jin and you didn’t blame him.  Jin was being his usual loud and goofy self which could be a little off putting to the shyer sort if they weren’t used to him.

Once Jin dropped you off at the door to your house with a wave and a ‘good luck’ wink, Kookie seemed to relax a bit.

You brought him into your house and showed him around.

“It’s not much but this is home!” you sang out.

He shyly nodded “It’s nice” he replied.

“Oh! Your collar, you don’t need that here” you exclaimed and ran up to him with your hands out to take it off.

He jumped back nervously at your quick movement towards him.

“Sorry” you muttered “Didn’t mean to scare you” your eyes widened at his skittishness.

“I-It’s fine, I’m sorry I’m just nervous” he stuttered.

“I’ll ask first before doing something like that again” you told him.

He looked slightly embarrassed and turned his head down to stare at his feet.  “It’s fine you can take it off, I’m just jumpy” he quietly muttered.

You approached him much slower and brought your hands up to the back of his neck, you could barely reach up to it and he had to bend down for you to reach again.  He leaned in close to you, your cheek almost brushing his as you fiddled with the hooks on his collar to let him out of it.  Your heart beating fast at his closeness.

It fell to the floor with a thud and you pulled yourself back.  

His eyes trailed over you with an expression you couldn’t quite understand, he rubbed at his neck and bit his lip slightly.

“Thanks” he murmured.

“So...I didn’t quite plan on having you here today.” You looked over at the clock noticing it was getting close to your bedtime now   “I’m really sorry, this was kind of an impulse decision.  You can take my bed until I figure out a sleeping situation and I’ll sleep on the couch”

His brow furrowed with confusion, “W-what? Sleep in your bed? I couldn’t do that” he gasped out “You should sleep in your bed.  I’m okay on the couch”

“Are you sure? I’d rather you be comfortable your first night here.”

He nodded and walked over to the couch and sat down, “It’s even comfier than my bed back at the shelter” he grinned while smiling at you.

“I’ll get you some pillows and a blanket.” you said and rushed off to do just that.

-------------------------------------------------------------

You had only been asleep for a few hours when you were woken up by two hands shaking you.

“y/n y/n y/n!” Kookie shakily was yelling out.  

You shot up and looked around, wondering what the hell was going on.  

Kookie stood by your bedside, his arms hugging himself and tears rolling down his face.

“I’m s-sorry” he sobbed “I-I’m sorry y/n.  I’m just scared” he gasped out.  

“Hey there its okay” you softly spoke, scooching yourself over and patting a spot on the bed you’d now made for him.  

He slowly crawled into your bed and you put the covers over his shaking body, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close from behind.  

“Shhh, it’s okay” you tried to calm him, petting his hair and ears.

“I’ve never been anywhere but shelters before.  I-I don’t really know what’s gotten into me.  It’s just all so new and I’m scared I’ll mess this all up and you’ll send me back”

“Kookie no!” you held him close to you “I’m not going to send you back.  This is your home okay” you assured him, nuzzling your face into his back, now realizing how muscular he was as you did.

He shifted and turned around to face you.

“Can I hold you?” he asked shyly “I-I think It’ll make me feel better”

“Of course you can Kookie” you smiled and turned your back to him.

His large figure pressed up against you and he wrapped his strong arms around your waist holding you tightly to him

“Is this okay?” he asked

“Mhmm” it was more than okay.

---------------------------------------------------------

You spent the next few days getting Kookie acquainted with his new home and getting him adjusted to being comfortable for the times he’d be home alone while you were at work.  Showing him how the TV worked and telling him he could play any of the video games you had if he got bored.

When he told you he had no idea what that was, the two of you then spent the rest of the night playing through every video game you owned until he found his favorite.

You loved hanging out with him, he didn’t feel like a pet, he felt like a friend and he soon became what you’d look forward to coming home to every day after work.

He’d greet you with a smile and a hug and you’d play games and talk and cuddle on the couch.  

He didn’t ever end up being comfortable with sleeping alone, and you didn’t mind sharing your bed with him.  

Jin made fun of you for it saying “I didn’t realize I was setting you up with a boyfriend that day” earning himself a punch as you whined “He’s not my boyfriend”

Except that this night, when Kookie crawled into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you as he always did, he planted a small kiss on your cheek.

Your hand shot up to the spot he had kissed and you gasped “What was that?”

“Nothin’” he shyly whispered and pulled you in close.

“You kissed me!” you squirmed out of his arms and turned to face him.

“So!” he pouted. “Is that bad?”

You bit your lip and thought for a moment.

“Um, no its not bad.  But, I just don’t think you should if you don’t understand what it means”

“It means I like you right?” he stared cutely at you, his soft fluffy ears perking up.

“Well, yes.  But, it's kind of a romantic thing for you to kiss me on the cheek while cuddling me like this” you awkwardly muttered.

“And?” he cocked an eyebrow and smirked at you, a bold look that you’d never seen on him before.

“Kookie!” you squeaked. “Whats gotten in to you.”

“Y/n…” he whispered, and leaned in close to you, his face only inches from yours now.

“I like you.” he smiled “Romantically” he added with a chuckle.  Then closed the gap between your lips, pulled you close you him.

His soft lips pressing into yours gently yet passionately as his body moved against your own.

He grabbed the back of your head, running his fingers through your hair as he continued the kiss that was making you melt.

You felt so complete and happy with him here, wishing that you’d met him sooner, wishing that life had always been this.

He pulled back from the kiss and moved his hand to cup your cheek softly and gently.

“Wow” he murmured “Better than I’d thought”

“You’d thought about this before?” you chuckled

“From the moment I saw you” he admitted, now getting shy again.

That took you by surprise.  Though you realize now that something had been drawing you to him too, ever since that day.

You buried your head into his chest and he wrapped his arms around you holding you there.

‘Damn it.  I have to tell Jin he was right now.’ you thought.

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungguk x reader #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts scenario #bts request #bts imagine

[hellyeahomeland]

“In Full Flight”: an HYH recap

The most delightful Homeland episode since “Two Minutes” picks up with Mike, Jenna (in a chambray shirt), and Alan in Kabul station, observing drone footage of Carrie, Yevgeny, and crew. Jenna deduces that they’re probably going to Kohat, and she is correct for the first time all season.

Mike asks about an exfiltration team from Islamabad but they won’t be there until later tonight. Saul interrupts their pow-wow to ask what’s going on:

Saul: What is this about grabbing Carrie Mathison? Mike: Oh, hello, sir. Let’s go into my office. Saul: Fuck your office and fuck you, too. What are y’all talking about? Mike: No problem, sir. A special ops team is planning to grab Carrie. You know, because she’s a defector. Saul: FOR FUCK’S SAKE SHE IS NOT A DEFECTOR. Actually she’d be right here telling you that herself if you hadn’t cornered her like an animal three hours ago without telling me. Mike: Actually actually she was supposed to be back in America like a week ago but then she broke custody and started her adventure with a GRU officer. Now they’re out there doing God knows what. Sir.  Saul: I’ll tell you what they’re doing. They’re finding the flight recorder. Mike: What’s a flight recorder? Saul: I can’t believe I’m still having this conversation with you. Do any of y’all have brains or critical thinking skills? Mike: By the way, sir, you’ve been called back to DC. Saul: Fuck my whole life. Fuck all of you too.

Carrie and Yevgeny are very much on their way to Kohat. It’s been just a few hours since Carrie turned her back on Saul and her loaded expression as she stares out the window is very much “questioning all my past life decisions.” That could take a while, Carrie!

Carrie and Yevgeny arrive in Kohat and begin driving under a series of … I have no idea what they are, basically overhangs in the street so you can’t tell where their car is. It’s very “From A to B and Back Again” when Quinn lost Haqqani in the classic baseball stadium game “Which hat is the ball under?” trick. The team in Kabul is annoyed and prepares for a grid search.

Carrie & Co. are checking into a hotel for the night. Yevgeny makes a very obvious performance of leading Carrie to her room and what ensues is the most sexually tense scene on this show… ever. First he offers her some Ambien and Carrie cracks a joke for the first time in eight years and says she could open up a pharmacy of her own.

She apologizes for not telling him about the flight recorder sooner. At first it was all personal, she needed to find Max, she couldn’t focus on anything else. Yevgeny asks what she thinks actually happened to the presidents’ helicopter, since she certainly doesn’t believe Jalal was involved. She thinks it was probably just a freak accident: pilot error, mechanical failures, shitty weather, any or all of the above. Then she reveals that detail from the fifth episode, that the Black Hawk fleet has had a series of mechanical issues. Oh, I should add that this conversation all takes place in the doorway of Carrie’s hotel room and every fifteen seconds or so Carrie and/or Yevgeny glance back toward the bed. You can cut the sexual tension with a knife.

Yevgeny asks if there are any more secrets she’s been keeping from him. She smiles, pauses… it’s the most interesting moment. Then she says very quietly, “I think I’m fresh out of secrets.” They stare at each other for a long time, Yevgeny probably wondering if Carrie is going to invite him in and Carrie probably wondering if Yevgeny can take a fucking hint. Finally, I exhale, and Yevgeny says to just “bang on the wall” if Carrie needs anything, which at least elicits a laugh.

Elsewhere in Pakistan, a Pakistani military officer named Aziz has come to see Bunny to ask just where the fuck Tasneem is. Aziz is pissed because Tasneem was supposed to control the Taliban—first Haissam, then Jalal—and her “incompetence” has led to the Americans threatening to invade. Bunny is the opposite of worried. The Americans are all talk, no bite. They won’t actually invade Pakistan for failing to produce a man they claim they can’t find. I guess he hasn’t met John Zabel. Anyway, he says Tasneem is off to find Jalal somewhere in the mountains.

Instead, she actually meets (Haissam) Haqqani’s right-hand. She is beyond pissed that he just let Jalal control the shura last week. This is all so fucked. He doesn’t have much of a response, beyond, “well, he was the emir’s son, so I guess so?” He offers to take Tasneem to Jalal but only if she puts a hood over her head and lemme tell ya, Tasneem is none too pleased about that either!

It’s the next morning in Kohat and Carrie and Yevgeny really are going shopping, just like the logline said. They’re winding their way through the bazaars on the street but still no luck finding this flight recorder. Enter A Kid. He’s all “pardon me, excuse me,” and Yevgeny puts on his best Dad Hat and tells him to get lost. It’s very touching. Then he says he knows what they’re looking for, which is enough to get their attention.

He takes them to a shop where Mr. Shop Owner #1 is like, “Hi, do you like flight recorders? Because I’ve got lots!” Unfortunately he doesn’t have the one they’re looking for and he also seems pretty skittish because a) what the hell are a Russian and an American doing together? and b) is this official government business or something private or, like… just generally what the hell?

Saul has arrived back to DC and meets Hayes in the Oval Office with our favorite Odd Couple, Linus and Zabel (this should really be the name of a sitcom). Saul passively aggressively says he knows of Zabel “by reputation.” Aside from that jab, the meeting unfortunately goes from meh to ugh to wtf for Saul. He has to play bad cop and tell Hayes that the video of Jalal is unvetted intelligence, completely lacking in context, and probably just a straight-up lie. Hayes has the expression of someone who’s never followed Thought A to Thought B—which is true, obviously—and Zabel has to jump in to say of course POTUS has already done the Thought A to Thought B exercise, he just arrived at a different conclusion. You know, mine! The best part of all THIS is that as Saul grows increasingly incredulous at the conversation, Linus sits there, silently, looking like he’d like to be swallowed up by an alligator. Afterward:

Saul: Wow a bit of warning would have been helpful. Or maybe just an assist there, Linus. Linus: I didn’t even know you were coming back. I’m outside the ~information flow~ Saul: God, we’re so fucked. Linus: I wish I’d get swallowed by an alligator.

Back in Kohat, Carrie has entered another shop, this time sans Yevgeny. This one proves a bit more fruitful. She actually finds Max’s rucksack, which means that flight recorder had to have been here recently. Mr. Shop Owner #2 feigns ignorance, but Carrie is relentless.

Yevgeny enters all of a sudden to let her know that that special ops team from Islamabad is here, so they need to get out of there, pronto. He leaves quickly to lose the tail and instructs her to go back to the hotel and wait. His absence gives her the perfect opportunity to keep grilling Mr. Shop Owner #2, whom I actually love and seems really sweet. Poor guy is just no match for Carrie. He finally reveals the flight recorder was there but he sold it to a broker he works with. Carrie offers him a lot of money to find the broker and get the flight recorder back there for a trade at midnight.

Tasneem gets the black hood off her head in exchange for an audience with Jalal, but homie remains pissed. Jalal is sort of confused at her reaction. A few episodes ago she was plotting to put Jalal in the place he’s currently in. What changed? Well, for starters, now the Americans are threatening to invade Pakistan. She says he’s got to go to ground, but he refuses to run.

Jalal: Who do you think I am? Tasneem: You’re the loser whom I picked up on the side of the road. I bandaged your feet and listened to you crying about your daddy issues for hours. Jalal: You think that you control us. Actually it’s the other way around.

He leads her up to a rooftop where hundreds of Taliban fighters have gathered. He says the last time the ISI got in the way, they killed a thousand of their officers on the street. And now they’re twice as strong, so you do the math. Tasneem has a general “oh fuck” expression on her face and… same.

In Kohat, Yevgeny finally shows back up in Carrie’s hotel room. He reveals that eight men are hunting her and they need to leave, now. She says they can’t, as they haven’t found the flight recorder yet. Of course we know Carrie has found it—and in hindsight, at this point Yevgeny probably does as well—but she needs to stick around a few more hours to make the trade. For a split second you think maybe Carrie is going to preoccupy Yevgeny for a few hours in her bedroom but instead she calls Jenna.

Carrie: Hey, how’s it going? Jenna: OH MY GOD I STILL HATE YOU. Carrie: Chill for a second. Also I know you’re walking toward Mike and do yourself a favor and pause and just listen to me. Jenna: Ugh, fine, I’m listening. Carrie: I need you to give up the location of the exfil team that’s looking for me. Jenna: Are you high? Carrie: I am not, but you are if you think this will end up any other way than me convincing you. Jenna: You’re putting me in an impossible position. Carrie: You must do this. I compel you. Jenna: If I give up their location, you’ll turn yourself in there? Carrie: “Sure.” Jenna: Ok I’ll call you back.

This entire conversation transpires with Yevgeny sitting on the sofa in Carrie’s hotel room, legs crossed. It’s… I’ll be honest, it’s hot. When Carrie hangs up he applauds her performance and says she was clever and convincing. That’s right, Carrie played Jenna… again. Again! Again again again!

Carrie is kinda down on selling out her own people but Yevgeny says she did it for all the right reasons and in any case, the local police will only hold them for a day (uhhhh yeah right). He starts to compliment her strong instincts. He really respects her for that.

“Why, how do you do it?” Carrie asks.

“Me? I am more of a planner,” Yevgeny answers.

The alarm bells start ringing in her head and Carrie asks him all speaking of which whether he arranged for them to “run into each other” outside G’ulom’s office way back in the season premiere (show time: 10 days???). Before he can answer, Jenna rings back and tells Carrie the safe house location. Carrie says “you did the right thing” and the amount of self-disgust in her expression for this just being too fucking easy is … significant.

A few minutes later, Mike is on the phone with one of the special ops team members in the Kohat safe house. Local police have surrounded the building. Exasperated, Mike tells them to stand down. One by one, they file out and are led into custody. Jenna watches in horror and the amount of self-disgust in her expression for this just being her life is… also significant.

In Rawalpindi, Tasneem is at Bunny’s house and freaking out. Jalal has consolidated power extremely quickly. She’s concerned, but Bunny says they just need to take him out, root and branch. Bunny is offended by the prospect of being ordered around by a smarmy teenager but Tasneem thinks they need to protect him. If Pakistan protects Jalal, they’ll protect themselves too. And they need to respond to the Americans not with concessions but with threats just as strong. Remember when they were three minutes away from a generation-defining peace agreement?

Back in her hotel room, Carrie is growing restless. She decides to get some fresh air and by that I mean she jumps out the window to get the show on the fucking road. On the way she calls Saul, to whom she is apparently still speaking. She asks if their protocols for transferring money over the dark web are still a go and he says yes. She says she’s got a lead on the black box and he promises to arrange the funds ASAP.  

Carrie winds up back at Mr. Shop Owner #2’s shop. Mr. Shop Owner #1 is there, too! Plus the broker. They do a little thing, Carrie says she won’t pay any more than $999,999, she is very In Charge and it’s pretty great to see. Not that we needed any more convincing, but the kind of instincts and improvisation Yevgeny admired just a few hours earlier are on full display here. She knows exactly what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. It’s breathtaking.

What’s also breathtaking is Carrie doing something correctly with a computer. Apparently the black box just hooks up to her Macbook with a USB-C cord… whoulda thunk?! After pulling a gun on Mr. Broker and telling him to beat it, she starts listening to the cockpit recording.

Then Yevgeny arrives! She starts to apologize but he stops her—he just wants to listen. They each share an earbud like goddamn Jim and Pam and continue listening. Turns out, Carrie was right. No one shot down that helicopter. A freak mechanical malfunction, “brace for impact,” etc. “Fucking helicopters,” Yevgeny says.

Carrie attempts a segue and says, “So… what now?” She wants to get this to the embassy in Islamabad. He wants to do the opposite of that. Then Carrie starts on him. Maybe he’s not such a bad guy after all. Maybe he’s actually… good.

Carrie: Plus, I’d owe you a favor. Yevgeny: Carrie, if I drop you off at the embassy I’ll literally never see you again. Carrie: Not true. I won’t betray my country, but I’d still move to Scottsdale with you. Yevgeny: I still don’t believe you. Carrie: Why not? You’ve already helped me a ton, and it’s cost you nothing! There has to be a way where we can make a “mutually beneficial arrangement.” Yevgeny: Is that what they’re calling it these days? Carrie: What? Yevgeny: What? Carrie: …anyhow, aren’t you sick of all this bullshit? Shitty bosses, shitty politicians, clearly the current way of business isn’t working for us. We could do better. You and me. We could chart something new here. You and me. God, we’re already halfway there! Yevgeny: Our own private network, huh? That would be nice, but it’s a pipe dream. Also, I like what you’re saying, but you still lied to me. Carrie: Technically, I just withheld the truth. Which is exactly what you did to me. Yevgeny: Heh? Carrie: The asylum, Yevgeny. What actually happened? We just took long walks in the woods and shared our life stories and you just happened to be the there the day I tried to hang myself? Give me a fucking break.

She moves closer and mentions the whole “picking up where we left off” thing. Well, will he or won’t he? Because she’s already decided.

There is a long pause and then they start making out. It’s exactly what you’d expect it would be, by which I mean it’s really hot! The scene is fraught with the unknown. How much are they playing each other? How much are they being genuine? Like Carrie says, they’re living in the grey areas. And who’s the first to blink?

Evidently it’s Carrie. After a few moments she breaks away and says they need to wait until after Islamabad. “Ok,” he says quietly. She tries to kiss him again, but he pulls ever so slightly away.

She hops off the table and begins to pack up the flight recorder. At that moment, he stabs her in the neck from behind with a tranquilizer. “Sorry, baby,” he says as she falls unconscious.

In DC, Saul is waiting anxiously by the phone. It rings. It’s not Carrie, but Linus. Everyone’s in the situation room, there’s some sort of activity in one of Pakistan’s nuclear facilities. Saul’s day goes from bad to worse.

In the situation room, resident hottie Scott Ryan is giving a PowerPoint presentation about said activity. Hayes is trying to understand literally anything that’s happening. Zabel explains that Pakistan only has the nukes in the first place to defend against a possible invasion from India. They’ll never actually use them. Saul growls that that’s because India isn’t fucking stupid enough to invade Pakistan. Hayes is beginning to understand the whole concept of “consequences” but before his mind can dwell on that for too long, he decides to just up the ante. More troops, more preparations for war, more of the same.

Saul’s day is not possibly as bad as Carrie’s has wound up. Yevgeny carries her, still unconscious, back into the hotel room. He places her gingerly on the bed and then kisses her forehead. He shuts off the lights as the camera moves in slowly on her her peacefully sleeping face.

#homeland #homelandedit #an hyh recap #in full flight #* #by: sara #homeland spoilers

[raidbossmadi]

Crumbling

Note: This takes place about 3 years before the events of BL3 

“T-Ty I want to go h-home.” 

“We can't go home Troy. I told you already,” Tyreen sighed and ran her hand through Troy’s hair. They were holed up in a shitty shack on Promethea’s Skid row. Typhon hadn’t held onto much money and the money that he did have she was trying to make last before they could make it to Pandora, it was bad enough that they had to make this pit stop to refuel the Centurion after underestimating exactly how much fuel they had .

There was the fact that she knew from slips in his office on the Centurion that Typhon had a bank account, but he’d been missing for two decades and there was no way she could just march up to a bank and proclaim herself Typhon Deleon's heir, that was probably one they heard all the time. 

As if to make matters worse, Troy had gotten sick, it wasn’t the first time since they’d left their father but it was the worst so far. She got up to re-wet the cloth she’d draped across his forehead, his hand weakly grasping onto the corner of her shirt.  

“D-don’t leave m-me.”  His eyes were glazed over in fever and he’d done this every time she’d gotten up to get him something.

“I’ll be right back Troy, I promise.” She said gently, pulling herself loose from his grip. Not for the first time she found herself wishing she was her mother; Leda had always seemed to know how to handle Troy at his sickest and among the many regrets she had surrounding her mother's death the largest was that as with most things she did it was Troy who had suffered the most as a result. 

This of course was not to say Tyreen hadn’t loved her mother of course she did, but  she was very aware that every choice she had made after her mother’s passing could be viewed in such a light that she was cold and uncaring towards her weaker twin. But she did care she wouldn’t have lied to him if she thought he would of left the oppressive grasp of their father any other way. She wouldn’t be forsaking her own needs to care for him like she was now if she truly hated Troy. 

It was just hard, they were both adults and they had nothing to go on but their fathers stories of what the world outside Nekrotafeyo was like. A world that they had found was as dangerous as Typhon warned but not for the same reasons. They had yet to encounter people looking to tear them apart, but there were plenty of people who thought they could take advantage of the twins only to be put in their place. 

 Tyreen was lost in her thoughts for a moment not realizing how long she’d been way until Troy started coughing and she couldn’t help but hurry back to him replacing the cloth on his head and patting him on the back in an attempt to help him through it. She needed to get him medicine but not only was it the middle of the night she also had no idea where to go. 

“You should try and get some sleep Troy, I need to go out and try to find you some help .” She soothed, knowing full well that she too needed sleep, she’d barely gotten any herself in days but she couldn’t stop herself from working around the clock to make sure Troy was ok. She would never forgive herself if something happened to him because of her. He’d already dealt with so much because of her. 

She waited until she was sure he was asleep before she slipped out the door, she didn’t want to leave him alone for too long and given their living conditions she was worried what might happen if someone else came across their home and saw Troy as an easy target. She wasn’t even sure where she should go, she couldn’t just turn up at pharmacy and demand their drug supply. She didn’t even really know what Troy was sick with. What she really needed was a doctor.  

She was panicking,even though she was outside the house it felt like invisible walls were closing in around her. The thought of losing the only person she could trust, the only person who understood her completely crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her tattoos flared her powers ready to protect their owner from a threat that did not exist, she was a danger to anyone she might encounter. She had to get under control, this wasn’t about her, this was about Troy. 

She leaned against a dirty brick wall and took several deep breaths. She needed to pull herself together, every minute she spent away from Troy was another minute something terrible could happen to him. She felt so stupid and helpless for the first time since they left home, things had just worked out so far though and she supposed all she could do now was hope that they continued to work out. 

Fate it seemed was in Tyreen’s favor as  after walking towards the nearest group of buildings and she saw a neon medical cross emblazoned on a building and she hoped that there was someone there willing to help her.  She was sure she looked a mess feeling the receptionists eyes on her from the moment she stepped through the door.  

“Can I help you Miss?”  The woman asked standing up seemingly startled by her sudden entrance.  

“Not me, my brother he’s really sick. I can’t move him.” Tyreen began. “We’re not far from here a-and I can't be gone long but he needs help, please.”  She hated how pathetic she sounded but on the other hand she really needed to sell how helpless she felt in this situation. She needed someone, anyone to take pity on her and help. 

The receptionist looked at her, looked to her tattoos scribbled something down and looked behind her again. “Stay right there hun, I won’t be but a minute.” 

True to her word the receptionist returned through the door with another woman in tow, slightly taller with multi-color tipped blonde hair wearing a doctor’s coat and carrying a medical bag.  

“Come along, there’s a truck in the back we can take.” She said. Tyreen nodded and followed after glad that at the very least she was being taken seriously.  “My name is Spectra by the way, what can I call you… I don’t think Siren is going to cut it.”  

Tyreen blinked a few times not expecting to have been pegged as a Siren so easily despite the obvious exposed markings on her arm, she was accustomed to them being hidden by the coat she  wore but in her haste to get to finding help she had left it behind. 

“My name is Tyreen, Tyreen...Calypso.” The name still felt foreign in her mouth even though it had been at least a month of not being Tyreen DeLeon. To be fair at the moment she didn’t feel worthy of carrying her mother’s name when she was failing so spectacularly at the one thing Leda had wanted for her children. 

Tyreen directed Spectra back to the dwelling the truck pulling up in the tight alleyway.  Tyreen wasn’t sure how Troy would react to her bringing a stranger into the house, even if he was extremely unwell. He was skittish given that he couldn’t defend himself, so she took a rather large lead leaving the door open for the doctor to follow. 

Troy was still curled up on the mattress, a thin sheet of sweat coating his skin. Much to her dismay he was awake, she had been gone too long and it was clear he was in distress. She sat down on the edge of the mattress resting her hand on his shoulder. 

“Troy, it’s Tyreen I’m here.” 

“Y-you were g-g-gone.” He stuttered clearly struggling at this point to string words together, his visible  rib cage struggling to expand. She had gotten back just in time it would seem. 

“Shh I know, I’m sorry. It’s gonna be ok though, I brought a doctor. They’re going to help you, you just need to relax.” She reassured as Spectra entered through the open door  assessing the conditions the twins lived in briefly before her eyes locked onto Troy. 

“Dear Lord, I know we’re in the slums but surely you two haven’t been staying here long term?” She asked pulling out instruments from her bag. “He’s your brother right, What’s his name? How long has he been ill?” 

“Troy, he started feeling sick maybe four days ago. He only got this bad earlier this morning though, normally I can handle it on my own and it goes away but he’s only gotten worse.” Tyreen decided it was smart to leave out the fact that she usually had all manner of things to leech to bolster Troy’s strength with, but here there was hardly anything unless she wanted to go after humans and that was something that would draw attention and on top of that was not something she was willing to do quite yet. 

Spectra nodded and stuck a thermometer into his mouth only to be surprised when he resisted the action, she didn’t think he had that kind of strength in him presently. “It’s alright Troy, I’m only here to help.” She reassured though now that she was this close she noticed the things about Troy that were abnormal outside of his sickness but made no comment. 

“A hundred and four, I’m going to have to bring him back to the clinic, he needs professional grade treatment.” She said putting away the thermometer. The doctor paused for a moment as if seeing Tyreen clearly for the first time and furrowed  her brow “You’re both very clearly under weight, I want to bring both of you back in.” 

Tyreen chewed her lip scared of what would happen if others at the medical facility learned of the two sirens. However Spectra was right and Tyreen conceded. “You have to keep us on the down low though.” 

“It’s just me and the nurse  you saw at the desk at the clinic, nothing to worry about.” 

Tyreen said no more instead shoving the few valuables they had into a duffle bag as Spectra moved Troy to the truck. She didn’t trust the safety of the house to leave anything behind nor did she honestly know if they’d be back. Spectra could betray them and sell them to Atlas but honestly at this point getting Troy looked after was more important than the possibility of becoming a test subject for the rest of her life. 

She felt a bit numb as she climbed back into the passenger seat. She had been so sure they couldn’t trust anyone yet this woman had rushed to their aid without a second thought. There was so much Tyreen didn’t know about the world outside Nekrotafeyo, so much that she didn’t know about people. Her trust was wary and suspicious but she knew she couldn’t drive away everyone who wasn’t Troy, that wasn’t sustainable for survival. 

The ride and intake process at the clinic was mostly a blur, it was nearing five in the morning now and through all the stress  Tyreen had finally mentally checked out not even noticing when Spectra  approached her with an IV into her arm to help quell her own dehydration. She snapped to attention when the doctor reached out to touch her though dodging out of the way. 

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Despite her best efforts she couldn’t control herself right now, if she was touched she would leech that was the state she was in.

 “I can do it myself.” She had spent enough time learning from Tern how to find veins and treat herself just for situations like this. Spectra gave her privacy which Tyreen appreciated not wanting to be gawked at while she stuck herself with a needle. 

In lull between hooking herself up to the drip and waiting for an update about Troy, Tyreen managed to doze off into a fitful sleep.  It wasn’t until she heard someone calling her name that her eyes fluttered open with a start, seeing Dr.Spectra crouched to eye level with her. 

“Tyreen? Tyreen? Sweetheart you can go back to  sleep in a minute I promise, just one question.” Spectra kept her motherly tone especially after realizing the twins were clearly alone outside of each other. “Those markings on your brothers left side… is he a siren too?” 

“Uh yeah, I mean…kinda?  I mean he can’t do anything, our Dad always told us that Troy was just a broken siren… I dunno what that means but…” She shrugged her shoulders she didn’t fully understand the implications and weight of her own powers, only that they were unpredictable and dangerous. That they were the only thing sustaining her brother yet they could so easily destroy in the same breath. She didn’t understand why other sirens they had researched like Lilith of the Crimson Raiders didn’t seem to be as dangerous as she could be. 

Spectra frowned and wrote something down on her notepad. “Alright, get some rest sweetie. Your brother is in good hands.” 

Tyreen has wanted to ask more but her mouth couldn’t keep up with her thoughts and the doctor was gone before she could ask her to wait. She shifted in the chair still exhausted and eventually fell back asleep. 

Waking up in a strange place was enough to jolt Tyreen to high alert even when she recalled the night's events. She frowned at the strip of gauze on her arm where at some point in her sleep the IV had been removed, a smart move given that a sleeping Tyreen was safe to touch . She opted not to wait for Spectra to return to her instead recalling through the fog of exhaustion that clouded the previous night which room in the small clinic was Troy’s, about to enter before she heard the voices inside. 

“Yeah I’m telling you Spec, I checked the databases three times there’s no medical history for either of them. The last records of a Calypso on Promethea date back to the Atlas Vault Acquisition Division which was merged into the Crimson Lance twenty years ago at least.” 

“Their Mother perhaps?” 

Tyreen paled, she had forgotten that Leda was from Promethea, that her mother had been a Siren owned by Atlas corporation, the reason their father had always feared them getting out. 

She took a breath and walked in anyway, knowing what she would have to do if things turned sour. However, when she walked into the room, the two women, Spectra and the nurse from last night  looked more concerned for the young Siren who just walked in then Tyreen expected. 

“How are you feeling Tyreen?” Spectra asked as Tyreen walked past almost on autopilot to Troy sleeping form.  He looked a little better at least though the tubing and machinery hooked up to him made Tyreen’s heart skip a beat. He was so helpless and all she wanted was to  take him away from here, to protect him. 

“Tyreen?” Spectra repeated. 

“Fine, I’m fine. Will Troy be ok though?” She asked her eyes staying locked on her brother. 

“He will, his fever has gone down to a manageable level and we’ve got him on some antibiotics. It’ll be ok Tyreen.” 

Tyreen sighed and sank into the chair at her brothers bedside allowing herself to truly rest for the first time since Troy had fallen ill. She could be hard on her brother, she knew that she could see distant and cruel but at the end of the day she terrified of losing him like she had their mother. 

None of that mattered right now, all that mattered was that he would make it through this. She took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze, They would make it through this. 

#My Writing #My HCs #Tyreen Calypso #Troy Calypso #Calypso Twins #Starts sliding in Characters that make up the inner circle of the CoV in my writing #There will also be a part 2 to this

[nurmengardx]

Paws and Pages

Prompt from @freitasgst Merlin is the library owner AND the library cat

Arthur stood outside the door of the library, staring up at the thick wooden doors. The crackle of Magic he felt on approaching the door always made him shiver. 

It was owned by a man called Merlin, though Arthur rarely saw him. Most of the time, the only company he had was the resident tabby cat. Arthur supposed it belonged to Merlin. 

Grey with black stripes, Arthur always found his soft purr comforting, in fact, he was most of the reason Arthur kept coming back to the library. 

He would sit in front of the fireplace with a book, and the cat sitting on the footstool in front of him. Some days the cat would sit peacefully with his eyes closed, other days he would watch Arthur intently with his warm, golden eyes. 

Sometimes the cat even let Arthur stroke his fur, and Arthur felt the staticky magic on his fingers. 

Arthur couldn't see the cat waiting in the window this time, so he pushed the door open.

The library was always warm. 

'Arthur Pendragon,' came a voice from between the shadowy bookcases. 'Back again?' 

Arthur turned to see the skinny librarian, wearing a scarf that matched the one his cat wore. 

'Surely there are finer places for the King to spend his time?' said Merlin, stepping closer. 

'Of course there are,' said Arthur, 'but none of them have a cat like yours.' 

'You… like my cat?' 

'He's a fine animal.' 

'Is that so?' Merlin stepped forward again, but Arthur automatically stepped backwards, away from Merlin's strong magical aura. 

'Sorry,' Merlin mumbled, looking down at his feet. 'I can't really control it.' 

Arthur shook his head and moved forward again. 'It is I who should apologise. My people include magic users now, so I should get used to the way it feels.' 

Merlin allowed a smile to cross his face. 'What are you reading today, my Lord?' 

'I was hoping to learn a little more about how magic works, actually.' 

Merlin hesitated. 'All right,' he said quietly. He disappeared into the shelves, then came back with a small book. 'These are the basics,' he said, reluctantly giving it to Arthur. 

'I'll get myself settled in,' he said. 'Perhaps your cat will join me.' 

Merlin smiled again. 'Perhaps he will.' 

'Oh, what's his name? I just realised I never asked.' 

Merlin paused with his mouth open for a moment. 'Emrys,' he said finally. 

'That's a… Druid name?' 

'It is. Does that bother you?' 

'Not at all. The Druids are a good people.' 

'I'm glad you think so.' 

They both stood awkwardly for a moment. 

'I should get back to work,' Merlin muttered before hurrying off into the depths of the library. 

Arthur took the book to his usual seat and opened it, a goblet of water sitting on the table at his side. The book was really quite intriguing, and Arthur lost himself in it, until a familiar padding of paws reached his ears. 

'There you are,' Arthur said to him, and he sat on the floor at Arthur's feet. 'Merlin told me your name. It's a nice name.' 

Emrys chirped and stood up on his back legs, hesitantly placing one of his front paws on Arthur's leg. 

Arthur reached a hand out, and Emrys flinched, then delicately sniffed Arthur's hand. Arthur held still as he did so. 

Emrys gave him one last sniff, then rubbed his head against Arthur's hand. 

'I'm honoured,' Arthur chuckled. 

Emrys settled himself down on his usual footstool. It was to be one of those times that he watched Arthur carefully, his golden eyes shimmering in the fire. 

Arthur finished the book that day, but was still interested to know more about magic. He came back, day after day, to read more. He asked Merlin the occasional question, when he saw him, but tried not to press too much when he noticed how wary Merlin was. 

It was understandable. He and his people had been persecuted by Arthur's own father, and putting a stop to it wouldn't make them trust him straight away. So he did his best to understand them. 

But as he learned more about magic, the more he began to notice about Merlin and his library. He noticed the talismans in the corners, and now knew what they were for. He grew more familiar with the faint magical current in the building, and even on Emrys. 

'Are you a magic cat?' he asked one day, chuckling slightly. 

Emrys chirped, rubbing himself up against Arthur's leg. He had become much more comfortable with Arthur as of late, and Arthur found himself wishing that Merlin would feel the same. 

Merlin was still a lot more skittish than Emrys, and shrunk away from Arthur whenever he used his magic. 

'Merlin, do everyone's eyes glow like this when they use magic?' Arthur asked one day, staring down at a page that described it. 

'Yes,' said Merlin, flipping through the pages of a book he was looking at himself. 

'Even yours?' 

Merlin looked up at him, mouth twisted in thought. He held out his hand and muttered, 'Forbærne.' His eyes glowed, and a tiny flame burst into life in his palm, and flickered around his fingers before he closed his hand, extinguishing it. He looked back at Arthur, nervous. 

To his credit, Arthur looked suitably impressed. 'I've seen my sister do that,' he said. 

'Morgana?' 

'You've heard of her, I see,' Arthur smirked. 

'Only a little.' 

'She's a lot of the reason I lifted the ban on magic,' Arthur explained. 'She helped me see that magic can be used for good.' 

Merlin sighed. 'I am sorry that it has been used to hurt you. I know that it can be terrible in the wrong hands.' He shivered. 

'And incredible in the right ones.' 

Merlin looked confused. 'Do you really think that?' 

'Of course I do.' Arthur picked up Merlin's hand and flattened out the palm. 'Magic itself is not evil. It all depends on how it's used, right?' 

There was a sudden breeze that ruffled their hair and Merlin blushed. 

'I think you ought to come out of your shell a little, Merlin, I promise I'm not that bad.' 

'I wouldn't be so sure if that,' Merlin teased. 

'Come now, Merlin, Emrys seems to like me, is that not good enough?' 

Merlin shrugged, then sharply turned his head. One of his many talismans and spells must have triggered. Arthur was used to that by now, though he didn't know what most of it was for. 

'Apologies, my Lord.' 

Arthur waved a hand. 'Go.' 

Merlin hurried away and Arthur went back to his book. 

This particular book was about healing poultices, which Arthur was very interested in. He was just reading about the healing qualities of Valerian root, when Emrys came trotting out in front of the fire. 

He went about his usual routine, sniffing at Arthur, rubbing against his leg, then his hand. Then he just sat at Arthur's feet, staring at him. 

'What?' 

Emrys wiggled slightly, then jumped lightly into Arthur's lap. 

'Well, this is a surprise,' said Arthur, running his hands through Emrys' fur. He felt the crackle of magic. 'What sort of magic is this?' Arthur murmured. 'Does Merlin put spells on you? 

Emrys ignored him, getting himself comfortable and digging his claws into Arthur's legs. 

'What do you make of this, Emrys?' he said, showing the cat the book. 'I didn't realise that herbs could do so many things.'

Emrys stretched his front leg, touching the page with his paw. 

It became their new routine. Arthur would come into the library, Merlin would give him some new material to read and disappear off to wherever he did his work, and Emrys would either jump into Arthur's lap, or sit cleaning himself in front of the fire. 

'Do you think Merlin likes me?' Arthur asked Emrys. 

Emrys's ears pricked up, and he lifted his head to look at Arthur. 

'I hope he does. I would like that. I certainly hope he doesn't think I only come here for the books. They can be a little dry at times.' Arthur chuckled and scratched Emrys behind the ears. 'He has nice hair, don't you think? Not as nice as yours, of course.' 

Emrys stood up on Arthur's knees, stretched then bumped his head against Arthur's jaw. 'You're a sweet cat, aren't you?' Then he spluttered as Emrys turned and got his tail up Arthur's nose. 

Emrys turned once more to purr in Arthur's ear. 

'I take it this means you approve?'

Emrys chirped. 

'Would you tell Merlin for me?' 

Emrys jumped down from Arthur's lap to stare at him with his golden eyes. 

'What are you looking at?' 

Emrys merely licked his front paw, and Arthur rolled his eyes. 

Soon, Arthur began exploring the library without Merlin's help, and reading some of the more complex books on magic. He was reading through some on transformation, and came across a detailed drawing of Emrys. 

'That's strange,' he said, peering at it. It was labelled very carefully, with as much detail as could fit on the page. 

'Arthur?' 

Arthur jumped, nearly dropping the book. 

'What are you doing?' Merlin glanced at the book he was reading, but didn't react. 

'Nothing. Reading.' 

'You're reading those?' Merlin said, nodding at the books. 'They're quite complicated, are you sure you understand them?' 

Arthur looked down at the drawing of Emrys, then back up at Merlin. Now that he thought about it, Emrys's eyes were the exact same colour Merlin's turned when he was doing magic. Arthur smiled, giving Merlin a disbelieving shake of his head. 'Yes, Merlin, I think I understand it quite clearly. 

Merlin grinned, relaxing his shoulders. 'I'm sorry for tricking you,' he said, rubbing the top of his head. 'I had to know if you were trustworthy.' 

'And you had to do that by… turning into a cat?' 

Merlin shrugged. 'People talk to cats.' 

Arthur moved closer to Merlin, so he could feel Merlin's magic crackling. 'Well, what did you decide?' 

Merlin considered it, tilting his head. 'You might be all right, I suppose.' 

Arthur laughed. 'You know, you're a lot more expressive when you're a cat.' 

Merlin shrugged again. 'You're not upset?' 

'Not at all. You had no reason to trust me.' 

'I do now,' Merlin said sincerely. He placed a hand on Arthur's chest, then slid it up to his neck. 

'Would you do something for me, Merlin?' Arthur murmured, holding onto Merlin's hand. 

'What?' 

'Teach me some magic?' 

Merlin blinked in surprise, then ran his other hand down Arthur's arm, raising it up and flattening out the palm. 'Focus on what you want to happen,' he said. 'Imagine the flame in your hand.' 

Arthur hesitated. 

'It won't hurt you.'

Arthur nodded. 

Merlin stood on his toes and pressed his mouth to Arthur's ear. 'Forbærne,' he whispered. 

Arthur repeated the word, but nothing happened. 

'Focus,' Merlin breathed.

'A little difficult with you doing that,' Arthur mumbled, but he tried again. This time, he felt the surge of power through his arm, and the tiny flame appeared in his hand. It didn't last long, but it was still something. He let out a soft laugh, and Merlin put his hand over Arthur's. 

'Congratulations,' he smiled. 

Arthur laughed again and let his arm drop, just far enough so he could put it around Merlin's waist. 'Thank you,' he murmured, before finally brushing his lips against Merlin's. 

#merthur #prompt #ficlet #merlin

[tri-point-bruiser]

Most locations on earth experience rain. It’s a familiar, welcome phenomena that allows life to continue on earth via the water cycle. Some places have rain continually, some seasonally, some rarely. And NYC was no exception. This rain was somewhere between a downpour and a drizzle. The drops weren’t too heavy, the wind warm enough to minimize any risk of catching a cold, but there was plenty of water in the clouds and little chance it would let up soon. It was the perfect kind of rain for sitting in. And that’s what Shadow did.

Once upon a time she might have danced in a rain like this. But that was years of trauma ago and the weight of it kept her anchored to the rooftop. Well away from the edge, mind you. She wasn’t crazy. But outside nonetheless, enjoying the glassy way the city sparkled, dark and light all at the same time. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the way the city was both brighter, the colors equally more pronounced as much as they were muted with grey, and more muddled.

A heavy weight settled to her right and a cursory glance revealed gleaming green. The thought crossed her mind that Raphael would probably hate to be told that he was glittering, so her lips remained sealed even as their corners twitched. But then it was back to enjoying the view. There were so few opportunities to just exist, to put down some of the heaviness and become a sensory experience for a while. If Raphael was content to just be, then Shadow would just be alongside him.

They stayed that way for some time. Silent. Comfortable. Soaked to the bone and pleased to be so. But eventually her chest started to bubble with something to say. This wasn’t someplace she expected him to come. It was the roof of her work building after all. They didn’t discuss the particulars of her employment. Not since he’d asked once when they’d first met and she’d refused to give him anything more than vague generalizations. By now there seemed to be a mutual understanding that so long as Shadow didn’t pry into him, he wouldn’t pry in turn. But now he was here. And Shadow was, unfortunately (she grimaced internally at herself, she was going to have to be careful about getting too comfortable around him) brimming with the need to say even just one thing.

That was fine. She could say something without giving anything away. She did this all the time. No need to make a big deal out of it now.  Internally she shushed the gurgling, roiling sensation slowly building in her chest and focused on coming up with something neutral to say. Something easy. Something safe. 

“I don’t know why people say the rain is depressing. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a chance to feel this calm.” Shadow finally looked over at him with a humored twinkle in her eye, very much enjoying the way his scales positively gleamed in the rain and the city lights.

“I put on a good show, but I am so, so stressed out. Always. It’s nice to take a minute and just… take it all in. The lights. The sounds. Maybe not the smells so much, we’d have to be a little more “out of town” for that. But it’s still different. And different is nice, in its own way.” She looked him over a little more pointedly, reaching across the short distance between them to rub one of his scales on his arm with the tip of her index finger. “I will admit, though, I’m a little jealous. Rain does especially nice things to your skin. I just get pale and puffy, while you’re practically glowing. It’s pretty cool.”

((No longer accepting these and jeez you just had to go all out huh?))

Raphael had sat in silence next to his, well he wasn’t sure what she was. Friend? Lover? Acquaintance? Enemy? That last one was a new thought, one that left a sour taste in his mouth and a tightness in his chest that he didn’t like. Raph knew about as much about Shadow as she did about him, maybe more in some cases, and in others less. She wasn’t open about her life or her past, but he could read people well enough to see more than just the surface scars. He didn’t always need Donnie to be able to discover secrets, most people wore theirs more openly than they would have liked to know if he was honest. 

This was a long time coming, a truth he had been hesitant to seek out but one that had revealed itself regardless. He hadn’t been snooping, he hadn’t even had Don run a background check on her. Something he always did when he met someone new, especially someone as reserved and secretive as Shadow. Raph wasn’t sure why he afforded her a privacy he didn’t others. Maybe he had not expected to know her past that first encounter. After that he had become to entangled that he simply didn’t want to know the truth. 

Now, well it was glaring him in the face and he wasn’t sure if she thought he was stupid or if she was just desperately trying to cling to what they had before this moment. Raphael didn’t even acknowledge her statement about the rain, how he looked, he didn’t even react to her touch. He just sat there on top of a building owned by one of his greatest enemies. One he had seen her come out of through a roof access door that only someone with full access to this building would even be able to use. 

Shadow worked for the enemy. Had this all just been a ploy to get one of them close, to lure one in. Raph had sat long enough that he thought maybe whatever trap was supposed to spring was broken. Or did she really just not know his connection to this building. He never talked about his past, or any of the more complicated aspects of his life. Their conversations rarely dove into any deep topics, at least not personal ones. Was it possible she was just innocent and had no clue. 

There had to be hundreds of people working in this building that didn’t know the truth about the owner, about he and his brothers. They were at best fake news stories to most. No one believed they actually existed. At worst they were the monsters parents told their kids about to keep them indoors at night. That one Raph wasn’t so keen on, but if it kept kids off the street he would take it. 

Past intimacy notwithstanding, Raph had developed some pretty confusing feelings for Shadow. Even if they had never had sex, he was pretty sure he would still feel something for her. He was comfortable around her, felt like he could just be himself. He didn’t have to put on an act and she accepted the bad with the good. She never seemed to mind his temper, or the moments where he was just irrational because logic could not win over his heart. She was strong in ways that surprised him for someone so small. She had a clever wit and a sense of humor that he enjoyed. She could make him laugh so easily and it wasn’t the little half chuckle most people earned. Shadow had seen him rolling on the floor crying with laughter more than once, and it was her own fault he was like that. 

Raphael helped her, even when he didn’t need to. She never owed him anything, he was just happy to help. Her thanks were always genuine, everything about her had seemed genuine at the time. Her smile was something that he saw when he closed his eyes after a particularly rough day. All of this made the truth hurt all the more. 

Yes, there was a chance she was just an innocent employee that had no clue what a monster her boss was. The more likely option was that she knew and that was what had her so skittish in the beginning. He just didn’t understand why she went to so much trouble to lure him in, especially since it had taken almost two years for her to get him to this spot. It just didn’t make any sense and he couldn’t remain silent any longer. 

“So, were ya ever gonna tell me? Or is this the part where I feel a prick in my neck and I wake up in yer lab?”

#Tri Point Bruiser Submissions #submission

[twodogsoneguy]

So I guess for my inaugural post on this blog I’d better start with who I am and what I’ve done with dogs. I’m Alyxx, and I am a disabled service dog handler, who has owner trained two dogs, one of whom ultimately washed. I’ve been working with my two, in addition to a year of dog walking, several years of classes, and helping out my best friends rescue over the past three years. I’ve gained so much knowledge, and I know theres still a lot more out there to learn. 

To begin with, my two lovelies are named Harley and Athena. Harley was my first dog, outside of the household pet dog that we owned when I was a kid and at the time of this post is 3yo. I got Harley from a shelter at around twelve to sixteen weeks and they told me she was a border collie. She is most decidedly not a straight collie, maxing out at a rotund 40lbs for her 13in. frame. We think she was crossed with a terrier, like a JRT, though we don’t really know. She went with me at 7mo to college and we lived in a tiny dorm room for the duration of our stay. She ultimately washed after being attacked outside of our dorm; she never recovered mentally from the attack and became too skittish and aggressive to be worked in public. At some point I will write an entire post about her.

Athena is a 2yo purebred english cream golden who was imported from the Ukraine. I got her after Harley washed at around four months. (My friend helped me by puppy raising her until she was large enough to contend with Harley, around 6mo is when she came home officially) A breeder in my state specializes in a line that does a lot of service work, especially in relation to medical alerts. I was lucky enough that she was willing to part with Athena. Athena is the light of my life. She is calm and sweet and loving. We like to joke that theres nothing in her brain but love, which seems to be a common trait amongst goldens. She is in the finishing stages of training, meaning that her main tasks are perfected and her PA is close to perfect. We have had some backsliding due to the pandemic, but thats both due to quarantine and the fact that we haven't trained in months. 

I worked with a well known dog walking company for around a year, and gained valuable experience in dealing with dogs in their own homes during that time. Many people don’t realize, but when you’re not home your dog can act totally different than what you’ve come to expect when you’re around! It was a very rewarding career, though not well paid. I also decided to end my work with the company after a negative experience with a dog, whom several other walkers had complained about. I also had other ethical concerns about working conditions, both for handlers and the dogs safety. I may someday go back to walking dogs, when I can pick and choose my contracts and build relationships with the owners and dogs on my own terms.

I also spent a lot of time with both of my dogs in training classes at a well known chain store. You can learn so much by attending group classes, not only from the head trainer, but your other classmates. Its a wonderful experience and I highly recommend getting involved if the trainers in your area are well rated. 

I have a certificate in dog training from an accredited online school, however I am hesitant to recommend them to anyone else because of some of the things mentioned in their textbooks that are either very outdated or plain wrong. It did teach me a lot about dog learning and how their brains work, along with giving me an idea of how the dog training business works. I was supposed to open my own small scale training business this summer after my course completion, but with the pandemic I’m afraid I can’t. Between the fact that I live with two high risk individuals and am high risk myself, I don’t feel safe starting a business that would involve me being up close and personal with my clients as you have to be with training. Hence the start of this blog!

Reading this back, it all sounds rather formal and like I’m applying for a job lol. But I think its important that people understand who you are when you’re talking about something with knowledge. I’ve only been in the dog training circle a short time, I haven't even really had my first client yet. But I do know that what I did with both of my dogs worked, and that I’ve only gotten better with my certificate. I also am in a unique position, being a disabled dog trainer means I know a lot about the legal and social aspects of having a working dog. I do want to post this caveat: I am not legal counsel, nor should you take my advice at face value. I live in the United States, in Colorado to be specific. My advice is often tailored to that region, though I do feel very comfortable talking about the ADA and its protections. Anyways, thats enough about me.  I’ll try to post regularly, but I consider myself a spoonie and therefore posting may be erratic at times.

#about the blogger #dog training #service dog training