#[ AND has time travel abilities to boot so he's not... easy to really beat in a boss fight ESPECIALLY if he dares to get serious for once ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sassyhobbits · 4 years ago

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Guess I lied “Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.” someone from the Cadre telling this to Fen and him breaking apart and crying and dying I want him to suffer

had to so this one. always happy to write about my boy fen!!! luv him

heres day 4!!!

~~~

“Are you sure you want to make that move?”

“Yes. No. Fuck. What’s wrong with this move?”

“Why the hell would I tell you? I’m trying to win.”

Aelin laughed at the stormy look on Fenrys’ face as his dark gaze studied the chess board before them intently. She knew he was determined to beat her for once. She had been on a winning streak lately.

Aelin settled in her seat before the fire, studying the board before them. It was a beautiful set, something she had bought Rowan for Yulemas the year before. Her husband loved the game, but loathed buying anything for himself. She knew he was pleased to have such a nice set, though he tried to play it casual. They played together at least one night a week. Rowan was terribly good at the game. Three hundred years of practice of both chess and military strategy had made him a truly formidable opponent. Aelin had yet to beat him, though she had been getting better.

Fenrys, however, she beat over half the time. Learning from Rowan had given her an edge.

The male across from her finally picked up a knight and moved it, capturing one of Aelin’s pawns that had been protecting her king. She raised a brow at him. “Really, Fenrys?”

“What? You were too well defended.”

Aelin tutted and shook her head. “Short-sighted once again, my friend.” She reached out and moved her queen on it diagonal, placing it down firmly and smirking at Fenrys. “Check mate.”

A slew of terribly, dirty curses streamed from Fenrys’ mouth as he knocked over his king. He shook his head, studying the board. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve always been good at keeping my schemes to myself,” Aelin shrugged. “That’s all chess is, anyway. Schemes.”

He cursed once more. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Fenrys sighed, accepting his defeat, reaching over to the bottle of wine they had been working through and topping off both of their glasses.

Aelin enjoyed having her friend so close. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide and Lorcan visited Orynth when they could, though they were busy running their own territories. Dorian and Chaol were in Adarlan, Manon rebuilding the Witch Kingdom. Even Fenrys had been traveling until recently. She had truly missed her companion.

They spoke and joked between one another for a few more moments before the door to the parlor opened. Aelin recognized her mate’s scent without needing to look back, even beneath all the sweat.

She sensed his presence as he stopped by where she sat, tilting her head up and smiling at him. His silver hair was in disarray from training with the guards that evening, but his green eyes were bright as he looked to her and then to the board.

Her husband studied it with a general’s intent for a few moments before a smile curled on his lips, looking towards Aelin with pride glimmering in his eyes. Good job, Fireheart, he seemed to say before pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.

Aelin’s nose crinkled at the smell of him. “You, husband mine, are in desperate need of a bath.”

“I agree,” Fenrys added. “My eyes are watering.”

Rowan looked to him dryly, though it held no venom at the younger male’s teasing.

Aelin began asking him about how the training had gone. They had a recent surge of new recruits and though many of them had potential, they were rough around the edges. Aelin knew that if anyone could whip them into shape, it would be Rowan.

Aelin fell into the lull of conversation, and it wasn’t until a while later that she noted a strange quietness coming from across from her. Fenrys wasn’t one to hold his tongue for an extended period of time. She glanced away from Rowan, looking towards the male across from her. Fenrys’ face was somber, staring hard into the fire that made his dark skin glow. His brows were pinched together, lips pressed tight, eyes glazed. Somewhere far away.

Rowan followed her gaze, ceasing his report to study his comrade.

It took a few moments for Fenrys to recognize the sudden silence, blinking away the haunted look in his eyes before glancing towards the king and queen before him, as if he could feel their gazes.

Something in Aelin’s chest clenched. She knew what the look meant, had worn it herself plenty of times. Her head tilted to the side before asking softly, “Where did you go, my friend?”

The smile that slashed Fenrys’ face came just a fraction of a moment too late, confirming that whatever he had been remembering had shaken him more than he could admit.

“I’m just tired. Losing to you takes more energy than you would think,” Fenrys sighed, trying to muster some bravado into his voice, though Aelin saw right through it. “I think I’ll head off to bed.”

Aelin watched her friend warily as he pushed to his feet, nodding a brief farewell before heading towards the door. She glanced up at her husband, seeing a familiar look of concern on his handsome face. It was evident that the White Wolf of Doranelle was not alright.

…

Once Fenrys deemed himself an appropriate distance from where the king and queen sat in the parlor, he allowed himself to let go. His shoulders curved in, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he rested his back against a cool stone wall and hung his head in his hands.

Everything had been going well. He had spent the day assisting his queen with her duties while Rowan worked with the guards. He was fine through dinner, through their game of chess. Maybe it was because he had kept himself thoroughly distracted but… when he had let his mind quiet, even for a moment, he had felt himself drift away.

One moment he was laughing and teasing with Aelin, a smile lighting the queen’s face. The next, he heard echoes of her screams of agony, flashes of Cairn carving her up bit by bit while he had to sit aside and do nothing. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, spiraling down into the darkest part of his memories: Aelin sobbing in that iron coffin, the sight of Connall spilling his own blood, the feel of Maeve’s cold, pale hands on his body.

It happened from time to time. The memories getting the better of him. He always tried to play it off to the best of his abilities, making himself flash an easy smile to hide the vulnerability. He knew that the others suffered from similar afflictions, knew his queen was still haunted by nightmares. There were nights when he would wake to a knock on his door only to find Aelin standing on the other side, eyes hollow in a way Fenrys recognized. Sometimes she would talk about it, others she would just sit silently in his presence. The only person who truly had an inkling of what she had suffered for those two months. He knew Rowan still feared losing his mate, still saw the flash of panic in his eyes when he couldn’t find her in the sprawling palace, even though she was always safe and content. It was just… difficult to shake off those feelings.

And yet… Fenrys never wanted to burden his already burdened friends with his own troubles. He knew they would protest that description. Burden. They wouldn’t feel that way about it but… he did.

Fenrys was lost in his thoughts, all of them dark and swirling like a storm through his head. It distracted him enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching until the purposeful scuff of a boot over stone caught his attention.

Fenrys raised his head, finding Rowan standing before him, green eyes studying him carefully. He stood straighter, forcing a wobbly smile to his lips.

“You miss me already?” Fenrys said, though his voice betrayed him, crackling towards the end.

Rowan’s expression turned sympathetic, a look Fenrys had never seen on his commander’s face until he had met Aelin. He stood a step closer.

“You doing alright there, pup?”

Fenrys shrugged, still trying to hold on to some semblance of nonchalance. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Rowan didn’t press him right away, sliding his hands into the pockets of his dirty trousers. “Your quick departure made my wife quite worried about you.”

“Aelin has enough on her plate. She doesn’t need to worry about me too.”

“I’m worried about you as well, Fenrys.”

Fenrys blinked, sure he had heard the king consort incorrectly. Rowan had certainly warmed up since he fell in love with Aelin, but he was still rather stoic most of the time. He saved most of his compassion for the woman he loved. Rowan wasn’t cruel to Fenrys, he never had been. Though he was a massive bastard and a pain in his ass once upon a time but… he had never reached out like this.

It seemed that Rowan took his stunned silence as a cue to continue.

“You try to hide it, but I can see it in your eyes. The pain.” Rowan’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “I did the same thing for years.”

“Yeah, but you took it out on the rest of us poor soul.”

Rowan gave a dry chuckle. “That I did. But you know what helped me heal?”

“Bedding your stunning wife?”

Rowan smacked him softly on the side of the head. Rightly deserved, Fenrys knew. He was being immature.

“I’m serious, boyo,” Rowan said lowly. “I didn’t start coming out of that darkness until I started opening up. Talking. Confiding in people who knew what I felt and what I had gone through.”

Fenrys rubbed at his eyes before rasping, “I don’t know where to start. I don’t want to burden you. Burden Aelin.”

“Aelin loves you,” Rowan said plainly. “She would never feel burdened if you reached out to her. You’re her friend. You’re my friend too, Fen. We’re always going to be here for you.”

Fenrys nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t fail him. He was grateful for the friends, family, and support he had found in the recent years. This life that he had now… he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He was silent for a few more moments, simply looking down at his boots and trying to banish the lump clogged in his throat. Rowan, the perceptive bastard, simply cocked his head to the side and met his gaze.

“Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”

It was with those words that Fenrys broke. The tears began falling freely down his cheeks, blurring his vision.

“There are moments where I forget where I am,” Fenrys confessed. “When I get so lost in the worst of the memories that I fear there’s no way out. I don’t know how to escape, how to be free of it. At times, I feel like I’m drowning.”

Fenrys didn’t bother to try and smother the tears, the shaking breaths he took. He knew Rowan was right. Holding everything in certainly didn’t help. He wasn’t sure if crying in the halls of Orynth would do much either but-

His train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt when he felt arms wrapped around him. Fenrys blinked once, sure he was hallucinating. But no. It was real. Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius was actually hugging him.

He was frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Some older part of him hissed that it was a trick, that the moment he let his guard down Rowan would put him in a headlock as part of a training exercise. But, Fenrys also knew that the cold and calculating commander of his past was no more.

Slowly, Fenrys reached up and returned the embrace.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything, until Fenrys whispered, “Thank you, brother.”

Another few heartbeats passed before Fenrys felt another pair of arms wrap around his torso from behind, the scent of jasmine and ashes tickling his nose. Aelin.

“You were snooping that entire time, weren’t you?” Fenrys asked with a tiny laugh.

“Of course I was,” the queen mumbled against his back. “How else am I supposed to stay three steps ahead of everyone if I don’t snoop?”

Fenrys chuckled lightly, already feeling lighter than he had before. He was a lucky bastard to have such friendship and support in his life. And, although he was still healing, he knew they were as well.

They would find the path to the light. Together.

#idek what to tag this one #like its kinda #rowaelin #but mostly #fenrys moonbeam #my writing #tog

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cricketchaology · 3 years ago

Text

the bile of the beast

this fic includes discussion of the symptoms of PTSD, especially as it relates to eliot's past with violence (including allusions to sexual violence). if these topics are triggering for you, please proceed with caution.

READ ON AO3

it's san lorenzo (again, but different than it used to be) , and it's sweeter this time. it's fake blood on sophie's dress and damien's smirk melting off his face, a president's hands on nate's lapel. it's righting a wrong, but it's also a burning warehouse a country or so away, cops called and infiltrating, and they won't find who did it because eliot is a professional, always has been. they'll find a room full of messy corpses, turning in the evening sun, each as nameless as the last. moreau likes his men to be nothing (outside of him).

it's something eliot knows intimately: the way moreau can sink his teeth in so slowly you don't release you are nothing but a chew toy. and it's an odd thought when you are the dog, that your hide is flea-ridden and blank. that you are the soft toy he humps in the yard, not the doberman across the street that bears its teeth behind the screen door of close-cropped control. that, sometimes, you aren't even the weapon. sometimes you are the display: the show dog, heeling at the hand that no longer bears a treat. that your ribs are the home of boot-toes, breaking you down to the red dust you thought you escaped when you took up the mantle of a flag all those years ago.

so he holds the bottleneck. he clinks the right glasses, smiles appropriately in a way he prays reaches his eyes because sophie will notice if it doesn't and he can't. he's not feeling the happiness he knows is supposed to rise in his stomach at revenge because this isn't, the shapes are all pulled too long, too neat. it's moreau, it's messy by nature, it’s bloodied hands and broken chairs and little bits being removed from base-spine with even tweezers, folding on the floor like christ in the tomb, listening the tut-tut-tut of a man who doesn't love, but he loves you , or you think he does. eliot's grip tightens at the notion.

cause he knows moreau. he knows moreau like the back of his hand. knows how many times each knuckle's been busted and finger broken, constellation tracing each freckle. he knows moreau like a typewriter knows the author's touch, pounding away till the letters are worn. he knows moreau, which he means he knows it's not over, which means he can't stop running because he never, ever could, and it's why he's here now, with a team that knows him too much for him to stay. who will act like tomorrow is a new day, a free one. like with the italian off their backs, nothing is hanging over their heads.

tomorrow is day one of post-post moreau. it's not the first time he's escaped, and it won't be the last. it is a fact he knows the team won't understand- not when they got off easy, this time. last time it was by the skin of eliot's teeth, shoulder bullet-lodged and airplanes unnamed as he crossed ocean after ocean just to put enough distance between him and the hammer so that he could avoid being the next nail. he wasn't free then. wasn't free a day after moreau, wasn't even free before, because when moreau wants something, he gets it. and he wanted eliot spencer less then than he wants him now. the thought makes his skin crawl, remembering the heat of the brand as it grew closer to his inner thigh, kissing the hairs near his groin before drawing away. because moreau doesn't even need to lay claim to own you, just has to say he did. just has to release that wolf-grin and hold your collar like its always been his.

eliot's spent years clawing at that loop, the necklace that bites too tight around his skin even when no one else knows. he cooks, and he smiles, but it's always there, always weighing on the nape like a hand, skin pinching. he's spent years scratching and howling, enough that the red ring is more evident than the too-tight collar itself. enough that he knows it doesn't come off. to know even a moreau locked in a hole in san lorenzo is still the one he remembers, even if the shape is different.

so when nate offers up a glass of whiskey, raised high by an unshaking hand, it takes everything in eliot to smile, lift his beer bottle, and cheer.

///

he does not remember much of the first day post-post moreau, which is something that scares him. he's not sure how it passed him by; he remembers waking up in the hotel, turning in sunbeams as they scrape past the window screen. he remembers the panic of nate not answering the door when he knocked, and he remembers slamming his body into it until he saw nate alive and well, but he doesn't remember the conversation that followed. he doesn't remember what comes between the elevator and the airport, or what movie hardison played on the flight, or how many seats were unfilled. they're the kind of lapses that could get him- get all of them, he amends, wondering how he could forget- killed. because what eliot lacks in computer skills or acting ability he makes up for in counting hats, mapping exits. he pays his stay in blood.

except he doesn't now, or he's not supposed to. the thought haunts him the rest of the flight. he's barely conscious when they arrive back in boston, his head swimming between the then and the now, post and post-post. he doesn't even realize they've landed till the seatbelt light flickers off, and his hands go to help sophie carry all the luggage she packed in place of the carryon he didn't need.

because eliot never travels with a suitcase. when he arrives, the clothes will be laid out on the bed that’s been paid off for the next few nights. the most that ever belongs to him are the shoes, but even that is a danger- particulates are easily traced, so the red dirt is disposed of every other week, burying the people he isn't supposed to say he's been. disoriented as he is, he winds up picking up a stranger's briefcase before he realizes it's the weight of paperwork-filled folders and not a sniper rifle nestled intimately inside.

he drops it like the handle burns. the movement is abrupt enough that his elbow nudges nate's side. his furrowed brows say we need to talk.

eliot wants to meet his eyes but can't. instead, he grounds himself, taking enough of the team's bags that the straps start to wear into his skin, pulling him from the nothing that's begun to spread from post to post-post. he's silent on the drive home, oddly unperturbed by the fact that parker insists on driving (something about how airplanes don't feel fast, and she wants to feel fast, and everyone being too tired to argue) . he doesn't so much as grumble as he makes a roundabout the vehicle, jabbing each tire with the tip of his toe. he stares at the license plate for a moment too long, trying to remember why he's in boston before nate shouts something along the lines of "come on, let's get home."

it's raining; something eliot doesn't register till they've arrived at the office and are piling out of the car. his arms are loaded with bags by the time he hears someone say, "we'll worry about the luggage later," which they surely said before he loaded up. by the time he makes it inside, his hair is curling at the ends in a way it never did in the before- cropped too short then for even damien to find much comfort in running fingers through, though he'd do it anyway. petting more than soothing, and the difference was something eliot learned to sense before the hand was even laid down, the way a knee aches before a storm.

the thought must show on his face, or maybe his disheveled appearance is enough to earn the concern coloring his team as they stare at him, dripping in the doorway with their luggage draped across his body all pack-mule-like. he's shivering, though he isn't exactly sure why, by the time they pull the bags from him, ushering him upstairs as the bar staff eyes them no more curiously but perhaps more timidly than usual. the soles of his shoes squeak against the vinyl, and he flinches, thinking about all the ways a wrong sound could get him killed. moreau is tut-tut-tutting in his ear again, like before, in the during .

the whole team is talking, mumbling mercies and platitudes, and his heart is racing in his chest, pounding like heels on rooftops and down staircases in foreign countries. the rain beats down on the window like fists, like prisoners you knew before they were prisoners and allies you used to trust, and he's not really breathing; the air in the crawlspace is too thin. his hands are shaking, and his CO is saying “steady, steady,” whispering it like a mother to her babe, and the shot rings out with that familiar flashbang of lighting.

"stop," he mutters, and it feels like too much noise, too much noise (surely, they're going to catch him this time). "please, stop. stop."

the air falls quiet, like new york news as the death of osama bin laden is broadcast, like hushed last phone calls on the plane going down, army basecamps right before the armada. it's quiet like death is- like two lovers who don't know each other yet. like hair coiling, blackening, burning in the heat. his breath hitches like he can remember it.

"...eliot?" parker asks, because she's parker, crazy by design, but even now, she isn't touching him, though her hands are outstretched like she wants to. hardison looks at her like she has horns, like she's breaking a vault while the sirens scream, and she is, in every conceivable way. it makes eliot ache in a way he didn't know he could still feel. it makes him want to be the person she thinks him to be.

he meets parker's gaze like he's staring down the business end of a gun. like being the fish in the barrel. he averts her gaze, transfixed on the city skyline behind her, peering through beating rain. he's scanning for men laying belly-down on balconies, sniper's trained and at the ready. he struggles to make out the horizon through obscuring strands of hair he doesn't remember growing out. he swallows, fingers flexing with a familiar hunger for hurt.

before he's aware of it, he's being lead to the couch, his soaking jacket somehow shed without his knowledge (he was too busy counting hats, mapping exits. moreau wants to know how many hats). the sofa is soft beneath him, swallowing him in warmth better than his standard-issue sleeping bag, and he's helpless against the hands on his shoulders pushing him purposefully deeper. the nails are enough for him to know it's sophie, even though he can't fully see her in front of him. the hair is tucked behind his ear with a tenderness he didn't know still existed. that he doesn't think he can deserve.

he isn't sure how long he sits there, his hands shaking in his lap. he isn't sure how long the silence permeates till it's replaced with the sound of knife striking board, and he comes to understand that Chopped reruns have been playing on the screens ahead, and it's sweet because they think he'd like it, not because he does. his boots have been unlaced, pulled from his feet (now bare, like christ folding on the floor in front of the disciples, moreau saying "wash my feet, eliot") and set gently near the end of the sofa. the thermostat has been turned to a temperature he lovingly calls "oklahoma august," which the rest of the team always whines is too hot, and the smell of thai food from his favorite food truck seeps into the air. he hangs on the scent like a cartoon character to fresh pie on the window.

it's too much like post , rather than post-post, the way they smile at him shambling to the island. the ache of the fights from the past weeks are starting to catch up to him; without a fresh neck in his hands, it's easier to remember the skin peeled from his knees. seeing him, nate holds out a steaming plate of his favorite and eliot takes it slowly. he stares down at it, enchanted by the authenticity of it even after it's pulled from a takeout box.

but you don't eat things you didn't see prepared; it's a lesson he learned after being poisoned in some hole in south america, and that he risked with every hors d'oeuvre moreau would hold to his lips, saying taste this, meaning die for me, like the sound of vultures overhead. something must change in his eyes because nate isn't smiling anymore. because nate is reaching out, taking the plate back, and it's clear that he doesn't understand what he's done wrong, no one does, not even sophie, if the way her gaze fluctuating between eliot and nate is to say anything.

"i'm not supposed to eat anything i didn't cook," he instinctively explains (this must be a test), wanting the sad look to leave hardison's eyes. "you either. i'm not supposed to let you eat anything i didn't prepare- that i didn't taste."

a beat of silence follows, heavy like the snow piling on slates, like soot on a seven-year-old brow. nate breaks it hesitantly.

"eliot-"

"let me taste your food," eliot says, all too much like the during and unlike post or post-post; it's too soft and ungrowled, too eliot and not enough spencer .

the look sophie shares with nate is deadly- like hiroshima at ground zero or kitum cave circa 1980. there's a silent battle wagging there, one eliot can't find the energy to care about because, without even a second of hesitation, parker hands him her plate of too-sweet noodles. she smiles at him, strange in that way parker always is, like a rat taking trap-bound cheese.

eliot takes care, inspecting the color, the smell, and though all of it is wrong, it's parker's, and it smells like how parker likes pad woon sen, which a post , but not post-post, eliot would have the energy to despise tenderly. but that's not who he is now, twirling noodles up on the fork, chewing garishly until he can gulp them down with confidence, like swallowing a key and knowing they can't beat it out of you. like downing the rations before the taste of them reaches your brain. he hands the plate back, feeling lighter, and hardison must be able to tell because he offers his dish up next. he watches as eliot inspects it thoroughly like a jeweler counting carats. the process doesn't take long, and, after a few minutes, each takeout box has been combed through for error, and eliot has determined they are safe enough to settle at the bar for the meal.

he doesn't sit down though, isn't supposed to. he goes to check exits, to stand by the door. he thinks about meetings in moreau's office, thinks about clubs and bars and women in bikinis that moreau never wanted to touch. because women were shows- because if moreau wanted something, he got it, and eliot knows this, so he knows moreau didn't want the women. he knows that moreau hungered for something different- not younger, but meaner. harder. he thinks about moreau in the sauna, beckoning eliot over, saying dismiss your post and meaning drop to your knees, folding before him like christ, like washing feet, like intimacy anew. he thinks about hardison, tied to the chair, and about chapman and his gun and moreau towel-drying sweat from his skin. he thinks about the kick, the move he invented, and hardison sucking air from the pneumatic, thinks about sucking air and-

///

"pause the show," sophie says, right before eliot goes from nervously checking the locks for the dozenth time to crumpling to the floor, his fingers digging claw-like into the edge of the doorframe. his breaths are too quick, huffing in and out, in and out, fast as chopper blades overhead screaming against wind. his whole body is vibrating by the time ted's voice is cut off, hand closing over the cloche in slow motion.

parker is the first to him, light on her feet and perching in front. she observes him like a cat might a dead bird; curiosity and hunger, unfamiliar yet innate. but then that hunger fades, is sated, and she's tucking her knees beneath her body and folding herself by eliot, kneeling. she surrounds him, skin heavy like a blanket, and eliot melts into her like one fades into the air after jumping from a plane- the way the heat melds to your back as an explosion follows you out the door.

with only slightly more hesitance, hardison joins them on the floor, his long arms enveloping them. eliot's hair tickles his nose, hardison's soft breaths blowing them away, then pulling them back like the ebb and flow of waves lapping a shoreline. he closes his eyes for a long moment, batting away the thought of water filling his lungs, and reopens them to find nate staring down awestruckenly.

sophie smiles softly in a way that means she knows something no one else does, cracking the mark open like a pistachio shell. hardison squints, searching for an answer, but she gives none. instead, she pulls nate away by his wrist, casting a look across the room before quietly trailing up the staircase, leaving eliot, parker, and hardison tucked tightly into the corner.

///

the seconds evade him while he sits there, sobbing on the floor. it feels like a weakness, something he should be hiding- he hasn't cried like this since the night his momma died (not in his pristine funeral suit. his father has pulled his tie-tight and said, "now don't you embarrass me," and he didn't then- made sure he never did again.) he hadn't cried like that the entire time during , or post , but now it was post-post and here he was, broken to bits on the wooden floor of a dingy bars' loft in boston.

not for the first time, he finds himself wondering how the hell he ended up here. how he escaped the during , how he made it to post-post. because, really, he's seen greater men die on their first tour. he's been in the hellholes they strung soldiers up in, purple heart wearers bleeding nothing but red, red, red- and he's been that man, russian roulette spun and against the odds making it a baker's dozen rounds before the tortures tired of threats and moved onto toenails. even then, he didn't cry like this- if he did cry, well, that was sweat in his eyes. that was him praying to a lord he stopped believing in at 18, saying, "if you get me out of this one alive, i'll get better" and it never, ever being true.

he isn't aware that parker and hardison have been whispering a mantra of "it's okay, it's okay, eliot, you are here, you are ours" until they pause for breath until parker's voice is addressing hardison, asking, "hey- hey, if it's too much, it's okay. you can take a break."

it's then that he realizes he isn't the only one praying then; they all are, the shoulders of his shirt on either side soaked through, not by the unrelenting rain but by the two closest things he has to family. that hardison's voice has gone from soft and strong to shaky: a leaf resisting those oklahoma winds rising from 40 to 50, from cold fronts and warm one crashing and crushing everything in their path as they war with one another. that parker's body has cooled as she gifted her warmth to eliot's still rain-frozen form.

it's then that he realizes he's lucky. that san lorenzo is sweeter because parker dashed it with maple syrup when he wasn't looking- that hardison replaced the whiskey sours with sodas. that post-post doesn't fit any of the characters sophie has taught him to play, and that he doesn't need to count the hats because nate already has; he knows each shape and each color, the brand names printed on the bill.

the next breath is a little deeper as hardison whispers, "i'm good, i'm good," across him to parker, and eliot feels the rattle of her head against his neck more than he sees it. the way they draw in a little closer, the way parker subconsciously syncs their breathing like sophie's taught her to do with marks, but it's different because eliot isn't a mark- because it isn't post-post, it's something different entirely.

it's the scent of his favorite thai food crusted in the corners of an unwiped mouth. it's his closet being reorganized by color, his go-bag packed with money he didn't put there. it's in-jokes and damnits and distinctive sounds. it's not explaining because they won't make him.

when his breathing is finally stable, he feels them pull back- not entirely, but enough that there's an instant ache in eliot's gut for them to come back to him. hardison's brows are knit, all the anger of the week prior washed away and replaced with nothing but care. parker is smiling gently with that even present lilt to her eye- like she's stolen his watch and is waiting for him to notice.

with slowly re-steadying hands, eliot brushes the last remnants of tears from his face, feeling his cheeks flush slightly when his father's voice tries to rise from somewhere within him. as though feeling the demon climbing up, hardison places a hand on the outskirts of eliot's bicep, holding him gently- grounding him.

"you good?" hardison asks simply, but the question makes all the raw things in eliot sore again in the way a second-day sunburn feels; not quite painful, but omnipresent. warm.

"yeah," he finds himself saying, and it's not something a post eliot would mean, but maybe a post-post eliot does. maybe a post-post eliot can. he finds himself smiling at the notion.

"yeah, i am."

#long post #leverage fanfiction #eliot spencer #thats all im gonna tag lmao i hate posting fic on tumblr #anyway hi everyone #im so tired #tw rape #tw ptsd #tw abuse #also i didnt care to mess with some of the formatting that was lost in translation sorryyyyy #no italics for u tumblr

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draconicocelot · 4 years ago

Text

Hidden Talent ~ Little Vampire Fic

Hello Little Vampire fandom! Have another fic! :D

(Thank you to @poepoe-thebunny for letting me write about your headcanon and to @rudolph-sackville-bagg for the add-on to that headcanon)

Description: Tony finds out about one of Rudolph’s hidden talents

{Pst! One more thing! Whenever Rudolph mentions starting up music, you may want to listen to these while they dance!

Song One: Vampire Waltz by Derek Fiechter

Song Two: The Last Dance by Peter Gundry }

****************************

With the sun officially setting over the horizon of the castle that had become a temporary home for many, the time came for mortals to start getting ready for bed and for vampires to rise for the night. Tony had a long day of traveling around the nearby town with his parents and was anxiously awaiting his extremely comfortable bed.

As his parents went to bed, Tony made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. On his way there, he happened to see Frieda floating her way down the hallway.

“Good evening Mrs.Sackville-Bagg,” Tony greeted in a drowsy voice.

“Why hello, Tony. Heading to bed soon I presume?” She paused in front of the bathroom door as her pale face lit up with a kind smile. Tony nodded his head as he grabbed his red-handled toothbrush and the half-empty tube of toothpaste sitting next to the mirror.

“Yep! Time for us humans to get some shut-eye,” he ran the toothpaste covered end of his brush under the faucet for a few seconds then started brushing his teeth as Frieda let out a light chuckle.

“Just as the vampires come out to play! So unfortunate...” Tony’s expression turned to that of slight concern, which aroused a bigger smile from her. “Do not worry, I am only trying to make a joke. My son has taken a strong liking to you, he would never forgive us if we made a meal of you!” Tony spit into the sink and tried to keep his nervous smile as convincing as possible as he wiped his mouth with a towel.

“Yeahhh… haha… Well, he is the best friend I could ever ask for,” Frieda seemed pleased with the genuine tone of his voice as her expression humbled.

“I’m not sure if I ever properly thanked you for saving my son. Just know that I will be forever gracious to you, mortal boy,” Tony tipped an imaginary hat in her direction as he shut off the light in the bathroom.

“Of course! To be fair, he saved my life a few times after that, so we’re pretty even,” just as a yawn escaped Tony’s lips, Frieda turned her attention to the hallway behind her as she heard one of the doors upstairs open and close.

“Well, have a good night, Tony. May we see each other once more before the sun rises,” with that, she floated back towards the sound of the recently-opened door. Tony proceeded to his bedroom without haste as he just continued to picture his fluffy cotton sheets shielding him from the cold air outside. It was a wonderful daydream that would soon become reality. His bedroom wasn’t far from the bathroom, but it was still easy to get lost in a castle that was so large and had dark winding hallways that all looked very similar. However, as he got closer to where his room was located, he could hear music getting progressively louder. It was very gentle music, like an angelic choir of organ chords and a solo violinist that was combined in a very specific manner. Tony definitely could tell it was coming from his room as he reached his door. Not wanting to disturb whatever was happening inside, he slightly cracked the door open by slowly turning the doorknob and peeking one eye through.

When he looked inside, he immediately noticed that the closet doors to Rudolph’s “coffin” were open. Not only that, but his phone was on and sitting on the bed. Tony had a phone for calling and texting his parents and for music, which he had allowed Rudolph to use whenever he wanted to. He saw that the music was coming from the phone and that Rudolph was in the center of the room dancing to its beautiful melody. It was actually quite amazing. His graceful movements fit the slow-paced tempo of a waltz. He looked completely peaceful as his eyes were closed and a wide smile rested on his face. The window to the room was wide open, and a cold-night breeze blew through his hair and cape as he swayed side-to-side in a circular pattern. Tony was in awe of his amazing companion. He had never told him about his ability to dance, let alone the fact that he was very skilled at it. As the song died down into silence, Rudolph sighed with satisfaction and stood straight up in front of the window, staring out at the starry black sky.

“Rudolph, that was incredible!” Tony decided that he had to know where Rudolph learned how to dance like that, even if he had been watching when he should have revealed himself. Rudolph jolted in surprise as he whipped his head around in his direction.

“T-Tony! How long have you been standing there?!”

“Long enough to watch you dance like a professional! How’d you do that?” Rudolph’s cheeks blushed a deep purple color as he tried to act cool and collected.

“I… I learned about it two hundred and seventy years ago…in the early eighteen-hundreds,” Tony sat down on the edge of the bed as he intently listened to what he had to say. Rudolph could sense that Tony had no intention of making fun of him for dancing, so he continued. “I have only ever done it with my family. My mother and father used to dance like this all of the time. As soon as we watched them dance, my sister and I were fascinated and we just had to learn. Gregory never really cared for dancing, but ever since then, we have perfected the form and rhythm. I’m sure Anna and I could dance to any waltz thrown our way,” Tony’s eyes lit up as he imagined how amazing it would be to show up to a dance and waltz to a dark masquerade song with perfect rhythm.

“Wooow…” mused Tony, his eyes full of motivation. “Hey, can you teach me?” Rudolph’s eyes slightly lit up, similarly to the time Tony had called him a “friend” for the first time.

“You want me to teach you how to waltz?” Tony nodded his head excitedly as Rudolph smiled, his sharp fangs shining in the moonlight. “Very well! Let us start with music,” as he hit the shuffle button on a saved playlist on Tony’s phone, another waltz song began with beautiful yet haunting violin with a constant beat pulsing in the background from a deep organ. “Now, you want to keep in line with the tempo of the music. I shall demonstrate,” Rudolph held one arm out to the side with his palm facing the ceiling as the other was curled so that his hand was hovering over his chest, and he was slowly rocking back and forth in consistent, circular motions. There was a warm smile on his face as if he was enjoying reminiscing old memories of when he first started dancing. Tony watched his motions, and even found himself mimicking where he positioned his arms as he glided across the floor. “One, two, three… one, two, three…” he muttered the tempo under his breath as he danced, occasionally glancing over at Tony to see if he was watching. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I think so!”

“It’s quite easy. Just follow my lead, alright?” Rudolph extended an inviting hand towards him with a smug smirk on his face, “Shall we dance?” Tony didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he was. He had never danced in front of anyone, let alone someone that meant so much to him, but he was excited to learn something that he had never tried before. However, he had already learned quite a bit from watching him and he was anxious to give it a shot. Tony grabbed Rudolph’s chilled hand as he guided him to the floor, then positioned himself so that they were standing across from each other.

“Now, place your left hand right here around my shoulder, and your other hand will rest in my left hand,” Tony rested his left hand on Rudolph’s right shoulder, and Rudolph rested his right hand against Tony’s upper back, while their two open hands became clasped together. “To begin, we will be slightly offset to the left, but once we get into more advanced movements there will be times where we will be directly in front of one another. Not to worry though, we will start off easy,” As Rudolph shifted to the left slightly, with one foot following another, Tony stared down at his feet to try and copy his movements. “Yes! That’s it!” Tony smiled brightly as his eyes met Rudolph’s for a moment, then immediately focused back down on his movements. He was starting to get a hang of the swaying motion until his concentration was broken when he accidentally stepped on Rudolph’s boot.

“Ah! I-I’m sorry!” Rudolph couldn’t help but laugh as he patted Tony’s back with his hand that was already resting there.

“It happened many times when I was learning, don’t worry. Just stay focused on the beat and following my movements,” Tony got back in line and listened intently to the tempo of the music. One, two, three… one, two, three… With enough practice doing the same moves over and over again, Tony was able to keep his head up and ignore what was happening with his feet. “Well done, Tony! You’re a fast learner.”

“This is fun! You said there were more advanced moves? Let’s try one out! I think we make a great dancing team,” Rudolph looked at Tony with a different expression than what he had seen before. It was a type of extreme gratitude and happiness that was masked by a humbled filter.

“I think so too, Tony. Now, would you like to try a spin?”

“Of course I would!” After about an hour of dancing together, Tony glanced at the clock that read “1:34 a.m”.

“Oh geez… I stayed up way past any bedtime I’ve ever had set…” Tony chuckled as he rubbed his eyes and parted from Rudolph. The vampire smiled once more as he floated up in the air and sat on top of his bed. “I don’t know how to thank you enough, that was really fun,” Tony pulled out a set of pajamas from the chest across from the window as he walked over to the right side of his bed. Rudolph crawled over to the side that he was sitting on and hung over the top of the bed frame so that he was facing Tony upside down.

“No need to thank me, I had just as much fun showing you one of my hidden passions.”

“Well we should do it more often now that I know how to do it!” Tony held out a fist in front of him, patiently waiting for Rudolph to return the gesture. Rudolph smirked as he formed a fist and bumped it against Tony’s. It was one of Tony’s favorites that he had taught Rudolph.

“I would like that. Now go to bed mortal, I have some food to catch,” Tony pulled off his hoodie as he shook his head.

“Yeah yeah… Just make sure you close the window, it’s freezing in here now!” Rudolph floated off of the bed and head for the window, but paused as he perched on the windowsill.

“For the record, you are definitely a better dance partner than Anna,” with that, he flew out into the night, shutting the windows as he took off. Tony chuckled to himself as he changed into his pajamas, reminiscing over how much fun he had learning how to dance. As he drifted off into sleep, he dreamed of dancing to beautiful waltz music in the air. That was something he absolutely had to try with Rudolph.

#the little vampire #the little vampire 2017 #tony thompson #rudolph sackville bagg #draconic_fics #my posts

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lia-writes · 5 years ago

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rose water & cherry lips

pairing: jaskier x reader

a/n: buckle up, because it’s rose water part two. but also, i rewrote this a couple of times and am nervous as heck to post it so hopefully, this sweet little love is enough to satisfy you!

;

Winter brings about a sense of stillness and the cobbled streets of Novigrad slowly become your home. The life you share with Jaskier becomes quiet – routine, even.

With the snow, comes new feelings. Foreign in the way they settle in your chest, nestled right up next to your heart.

He plays for the crowds at a few inns and taverns. Mostly, you join him. His popularity seems to grow larger by the week. The doting women, sniffing into their sleeves or handkerchiefs watch him play with love in their eyes. It makes your heart thumpthump a little harder from across the room each time.

Stolen kisses and chaste touches at your waist had woven itself between you, comfortably. Never any less, but neither of you seemed quite brave enough to take it that one step further. In your head, perhaps. His weight on top of you, beneath the bed covers. A dream that’s woken you in a slight sweat and the need for your hand to dip between your thighs on more than one occasion.

You’re in awfully deep, looking up at him with rose-tinted glasses.

This time, as the sun begins to sink behind Novigrad’s buildings, Jaskier heads down the street alone toward a large tavern called The Hearthstone. You’re left next to the fire, a new book in one hand and a cup of fine wine in the other.

It’s late when he finishes his performance, plays a round of Gwent and heads home to you.

Despite the frosted touch to the air, drunk men stumble down the street past him and a pair of ladies' whistle at him from the torch-lit doorway of a brothel.

He ignores them and presses forward, adjusting the lute’s case on his shoulder and his grip on the bottle of wine he won... or was gifted.

When he arrives back at your door, cheeks flushed and fingers stiff with cold he expects you to be sleeping. So, when he finds you in the bathtub, back to him and the rising steam making your hair curl, the wine bottle almost slips from his hand.

You throw a glance over your shoulder, cheeks rosy from the bathwater and offer a smile. He tells himself that it’s his return that’s brought the color to your face.

Placing the bottle of wine on the desk, he sets his lute down and wrings his hands together.

In a good way, you have the ability to make him nervous. You’re the blood within his veins. The ebb and flow of his life force and he, yours. Looking at you then from across the room, his words die in his throat. His complimentary half that makes his love feel whole and needed.

The gentle splishsplash of the water beneath your dancing fingertips draws him closer to you, body lowering to sit on the floor next to the bathtub.

He reaches out to let his fingertips skim across your arm, up and down and up and down as he gazes at you. “What’s keeping you up?” he asks softly.

“Nothing... Honestly.”

A head tilt and pointed stare from him makes you sigh.

“Okay,” you relent, “I was out at the market earlier today, while you were still sleeping and... I ran into an old friend.”

“Oh?” He expects you to tell him a tale of an old lover from younger years – after all, there was once a time where the two of you were mere strangers.

You shake your head knowingly, “A female friend. We grew up together and when I saw her... On the arm of her husband... she really did seem grown-up.”

He leans forward with his elbow resting on his knee and his chin falling into his palm.

“It made you feel like you were missing something?”

“Yes.” Your stare hits him like a sucker punch to the gut.

A gulp.

The pulse in your neck jumps.

“I can’t imagine my life without you,” he begins, eyelashes fluttering with each blink until you reach out to place a finger over his lips. He thinks about letting his tongue dart out to taste you then, the light scent of rose-scented soap on your skin.

“Please, don’t. If this is what you want, then it must be sincere, Jaskier.”

“Well, you certainly make a desperate fool feel loved.”

He doesn’t understand how this isn’t sincere, surrounded by the entirety of all the love he could possibly offer you.

This is your chance. This is your chance. This is your chance.

“The water’s still warm,” you say after a beat of silence.

“Changing the subject with your... Temptation?” His eyes drag up your body, mostly hidden beneath the water, cloudy from the soaps you’d used earlier.

Your laughter is soft. The affection that warms his grey eyes darkens with something a little more lustful and you chew at your lower lip.

His hand leaves your arm to pull his boots off – chucking them across the room toward the door. The jacket he wears follows quickly.

“My wife...” it’s whispered as he stands to undo his trousers and tug his shirt over his head.

“Mmmm.” You sigh, quite content with watching him undress.

The curve of your spine, and the damp tendrils of hair that spill over your shoulders makes him hold his breath as he climbs into the bath to sit behind you.

It’s easy to settle back against his chest and feel like you’re finally home.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he says, breath warm and tickling against the back of your neck.

Letting your fingertips intertwine, you pull his arms from where they rest against the sides of the bath to wrap around your waist beneath the water.

“Just hold me,” you mumble and he tightens his grip on you, heartbeat thumping against your back. He wonders if you can feel it – skin to skin.

The water cools as the silence between you grows, comfortably.

"I didn’t mean to fall in love with you. It was entirely accidental.”

He chuckles softly, “you did try and fight it, huh?”

“I was tired of being lonely I guess.”

“Is that all?”

“You were it all, what life had promised me as a young girl, dreaming of her future wedding with her friends.”

A kiss pressed at the side of your neck.

“You’re too good for me,” between kisses that duck to your shoulder.

“I want you... More than anything I’ve ever wanted,” your head tucks against his chest, eyes gazing up to lock with his.

Suddenly, the water is boiling.

His hands trail up your sides as he stands then, pulling you to your feet with his grip under your arms.

Laughter. Loud and filled with the hope that love exists.

You exist.

And you’re the best life he could ever imagine.

This entire thing feels so under-rehearsed and your laughter reduces to soft breaths, letting him help you out of the bath, bodies silken from the soapy water and flush against one another.

“Tell me you want this,” he fumbles to find his voice, breath stolen by the look you keep giving him.

“I want more than this,” a quirk of your eyebrow, urges him onward.

“You kill me, you know that?”

The anticipation fucking kills you, slowly stealing your breath and making your heart jump all at once. Your desire for him is painful, both lodged in your chest and pooling between your legs.

It's you that kisses him first, lips meeting his with foolish energy.

Jaskier’s hands dance down the length of your spine, nails making your body curve against his. When they round your bottom, you jump and he catches you.

With legs wrapped around his waist, you’re hungry for his touch until he nips at your lower lip.

“Please don’t rush this, this is something I never get to relive.”

His next kiss is against your smile and you notice him stumble in the direction of the neatly made bed.

Your feet touch the ground as he reaches the side, hands remaining around his neck to kiss him again.

“Are you... begging me to be patient... Jaskier?”

The weight of his body against yours throws you back onto the bed. When he straddles your thighs, you’re painfully aware of his arousal and you jerk your hips up into him – his groan reverberates against your lips

His hands grasp yours at either side of your head and you swear your knuckles whiten when he rocks himself back against you

“Two can play that game, my dear,”

You’re about to pull your hands from his to let your nails rake up his back but he holds fast, palms melding to one another.

“Apparently not,” his lips travel downward, along the edge of your jaw and pause to suck a bruise at your pulse point.

Another impatient buck of your hips has him growl lightly against your skin.

“Jaskier,” a whine, the throb between your legs winding you higher and he shifts to rest his weight between your thighs, knees nudging at the soft skin.

Your legs are quick to wrap around his waist and his eyes draw up to meet you.

Red marks trailed along your collarbone. Another jerk of your hips and the heat coils firmly in your abdomen.

“You really love me,” he says between kisses at the top of the swell of your chest. Your breath heaves. His lips ghost across your breast, tongue darting out to swirl around your nipple, skin hot beneath his mouth.

“The anticipation is building.” you chuckle softly, hands tightening their hold.

“I can tell.” He glances at you again, distracted by the adoration in your eyes when you look at him. “Good.”

He kisses down your sternum before untangling one of your hands, letting his hand skim against the dip of your waist.

You make use of your free hand, nails scraping up his back to make him hum against your other nipple.

“Pretty please?” yeah, you’re begging now.

His hand reaches between the two of you, fingertips smoothing the skin of your inner thigh.

“Stop... teasing.” you eventually gasp, hand following his, to guide it firmly to the heat of your center.

“For me, sweetheart?” Jaskier’s eyes meet yours, the look within them a mix between humor and kindness.

“That’s what you do to me,” you give a crooked smile and he moves back to kiss you. He strokes his finger between your folds, a boyish grin on his face, before settling his thumb at your clit.

You’re whining against his lips between kisses. He swallows your moans and pitched cries with an eagerness you welcome, hand clutching his desperately

“Gods, I love you,” your chest heaves and he savors the neediness you have for him, dropping his head to lick a bead of sweat from your sternum, “cheeky,” you swat at the back of his head with a giggle.

After a moment, your hips twitch against his and your eyes flicker to meet his, pupils blown and dark with want.

A violently passionate kiss later and he drags his hand away from your heat to himself.

His first thrust is daringly slow and his lips roll into his mouth at the feeling of finally being able to love you so completely.

When your hand comes up to card through his hair, nails light against his scalp he buries his head at your shoulder.

But still, with your hips rocking to meet his, you’re holding hands. His name on your breath makes him groan into the crook of your neck.

“I’m yours,” Jaskier’s words, sweet like honey at the side of your mouth make your breath hitch. Another rolls of his hips, “...and I love you,”

The air between you thins, his scent mixing with yours like morning fog.

Your name, sung like a prayer on repeat when he hits that spot and you tighten around him. Throwing your head back against the pillows, he drops to kiss you hotly down your neck.

His hand drifts to brush over your clit between thrusts. You’re very much out of your head when your toes curl and your hand grips at his like a lifeline.

It’s a plummet to the high heavens when you finally peak, eyes shut tightly and the taste of him on your lips. Your shuddering pleasure coaxes the height of his own, a choked gasp breaking through a kiss and blood rushing through his head to render him senseless.

“Iloveyou,Iloveyou,Iloveyou,” over and over with the beat of Jaskier’s heart, his lips at your ear.

After a moment, he kisses your forehead and slips from between your thighs. The smile on your face comes naturally when he rolls onto his side to face you.

Your tongue darts out to savor the aftertaste of him upon your lips and you’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to pull yourself from his hold.

A shared glance has you both giving a light laugh and he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face -

“Is it fair if I ask you to wed me now?”

#jaskier x reader #jaskier reader imagine #jaskier imagine #the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher imagine #jaskier x you #jaskier romance #jaskier smut #lia-writes #lia also sins #and is going to bed straight after posting this so I don't die

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verai-marcel · 4 years ago

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Rewarding His Pet (RDO OC x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: You listened. You did as he asked. You stopped stealing. You got an actual job, honest work, and you are actually feeling pretty good about it. You weren’t expecting any kind of reward in return, but Everett thinks you deserve one.

Author’s Notes: This is for the millennium giveaway fic; I can no longer reach this requester, but they had previously asked to remain anonymous: id like to request a gentle nsfw thing from Everett please, if that’s okay? Maybe the readers been really good and gets rewarded with slow paced edging and after care? I know it’s not the spiciest of asks but I guess I’m a sucker for the soft stuff.

Tags: fluff, gentle sex, edging, aftercare

Word Count: 2719

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

A month has passed since you left St. Denis. You had made your way to a small town up northwest where news of your thefts were non-existent, and decided to start over, try to lay low for a while. You changed your hair, stopped wearing make-up, and became just a simple woman looking for work. Because this was such a small town, you figured staying out of trouble here would be easy. You had made up a pity story about being abandoned by your brother after your parents had passed, and started asking for a job around town and a place to stay. After you proved your ability to do basic calculations, you were quickly offered a job at the general store. You seemed like such a pity case, a lone woman just trying to survive.

The first week was the worst as you resisted the urge to just take items that were lying around. Forcing yourself to not slip things into your pockets, even as you eyed the chocolate longingly, was one of the hardest things you had ever done. The compulsion to take was something you fought hard against, but by the second week, it became easier.

By the third week, you felt the compulsion settle deep inside, locked in a box that you buried deep in your heart. The urge never went away, but with practice, you overcame it. You were quietly proud of yourself for not taking anything the entire time you had come to this town.

Of course, no one would know except you.

You were a little surprised that no one had come to find you yet. Perhaps those bounty hunters who were chasing after you finally gave up.

Unless Everett had been telling the truth and had taken them all out.

Thoughts of the blue-eyed hunter usually stoked a fire low in your belly. But these days, they also made your heart skip a beat, remembering how he had looked at you right before he had walked away, leaving you in that abandoned building, alone and unsure of what to do next.

Shaking your head, you focused again on the stacks of supplies that had just been delivered. You were helping take inventory, your board clip in hand, counting up everything and recording it precisely. You were also a little bit obsessive about it, checking everything twice to make sure you had it all correct.

It was while you were doing this that you overheard two men as they stopped under the shade of the general store to hide in the shade and smoke.

“Y’hear? Ed's boy is back in town."

"Really? After all that, he really came back?"

"He's an Osborn, what'd you expect? That boy loves his family."

They kept talking as they walked away. You had delivered supplies to Ed, an old man who lived on the outskirts of town with his wife and daughter.

His last name was Osborn? And he had a son?

Was fate so cruel to put you in the same town as that man's family?

You finished taking inventory and went back into the general store, making your way to the counter where you could hear your boss laughing.

"Was a good thing you did. None of us blamed you."

"I'm just glad I finally paid off my bounty," a familiar voice said.

You immediately stopped walking, but your boss had heard your footsteps and called out your name. Hanging your head, you came up to the counter and handed the inventory paper to him.

"Supplies are all accounted for. I'll go help bring things inside," you said quietly, quickly turning and fleeing to exit out the back of the store without a second look.

***

Everett looked past the shopkeeper as she ran off.

"So, uh, how long she been working here?"

"Hands off."

He held his hands up in mock surrender. "Hey, I ain't that young playboy any more," he said defensively.

The shopkeeper glared at him. "I saw the way you looked at her." He sighed, contemplating for a moment before deigning to answer. "She's been working here for three weeks. Comes early, stays late. I don't even have to check her inventory count anymore, she's as accurate as a ruler."

"Really? Nothing missing?"

"Nope, not a thing."

"Huh."

The shopkeeper looked at Everett, who was still peering at the back door. "If you want to talk to her, fine, but she's had it rough. Be kind to her."

"C'mon, you know me. I'm always kind to ladies."

"I mean it, Everett."

Everett waved his hand dismissively as he walked out the front door. "See you 'round."

The shopkeeper shook his head; the boy could never keep his head on straight when it came to women.

***

You had just sent one of the delivery men away with a shipment of supplies when Everett walked up to you.

"I see you've been busy," Everett said, glancing around.

You shrugged. "You told me to lay low. So I am." You fought the urge to boast about not stealing anything for the part four weeks. He would probably scoff. Why would he praise you for doing something that most people considered normal?

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You glanced back up, not even realizing how your shoulders had slumped and your gaze had fallen until you saw his boots in your view. He gently touched your cheek, his fingers caressing your skin.

"Nothing," you mumbled, trying to turn your head, but he suddenly gripped your jaw so you couldn't move.

"Tell me," he rumbled.

You huffed. "I haven't stolen a damn thing since I came here. But no one's going to praise me for that."

Everett's gaze turned soft as he looked at you, your emotions wavering between anger and frustration. His grip loosened, his fingers moving to cup your cheek instead.

"I’ll praise you, sweetheart."

You glared at him, looking for even one iota of condescension. Surprisingly, you found none.

“It’s hard to change. I understand,” he said quietly, a weight to his words that felt like a lead vest. He moved in even closer, until his lips were brushing against your forehead. “You want a treat for doing so good, right?”

“I’m not some kind of pet,” you tried to say with venom but it ended up coming out breathy, as if you actually wanted his treat.

“But you’re my sweet puppy, ain’tcha?” he teased, his lips now running along the shell of your ear. “I’ll give you a real good reward, what do ya say?” he whispered.

You stepped away from him. Being so close, breathing in his scent, it was too much. You couldn’t think. With him standing before you, his knowing smile and his cocky stance, it was still too damn hard to think. What would a reward from him feel like?

You shuddered with barely contained anticipation. “Alright. I accept.”

***

He told you to meet him at the saloon after your work shift, and to come around the back where no one would see you. He knew your skills; you’d never get caught by these small town folk. So you snuck around and saw him leaning against the wall, waiting for you. He quickly gestured for you to follow him up the stairs and across a small balcony, passing a couple of doors until he reached the last one. Pulling a key out of his pocket, he unlocked it and led you inside.

A small room with just a bed and a basin. Not even any decorations, just a place to sleep and clean your face. Perfect for travelers needing a place to stay.

Or in this case, for a quiet rendezvous with a lover.

“Not the most luxurious place, I know. Next time, when we’re not sneaking around in my hometown, I’ll treat you to something better.”

You looked at Everett, who was admiring you as he took your hand and led you towards the bed. Standing together, he cupped your cheeks with both hands and kissed your forehead tenderly.

“Tonight, let me take care of you,” he murmured. His hands slowly made their way to your collar, where he started to unbutton your shirt, glancing up at you with each button undone. When he got halfway down, he pulled the shirt out of your skirt and continued to unbutton until he was done. His hands slowly skimmed up your sides as he spread the fabric open to reveal your thin chemise and corset.

“My sweet pet,” he crooned as he slid the shirt off your shoulders, dropping it to the floor. He started to undo your corset, his deft fingers making quick work of all the clasps. You let out a breath when it fell from your body, feeling like you could finally move freely. But as soon as you had taken in a breath, Everett took you by the chin and kissed you. He didn’t stop his mission to remove all of your clothing; his hands pulled on the sleeves of your chemise, dragging the whole thing down your shoulders.

Then he stepped back and grinned. He grabbed your hands and placed them on the collar of his shirt. Wordlessly, you unbuttoned your way down, revealing a muscled chest, hard from physical work. He took off his gloves and shrugged his shirt off his shoulders, tossing them aside before he pulled you into his arms, pressing his chest against your bare breasts. His hands ran up and down your back, feeling your soft skin, cradling you against his larger body with a tenderness you hadn’t felt before. You looked up at him, drunk on his soft touch.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you, slowly at first, coaxing your lips open before he devoured you, his lips wandering from yours to trace a wet trail down your neck to your collarbone, where he sucked greedily at your skin, leaving love marks.

“Everett!” you cried out as he sucked particularly hard at the junction between your shoulder and neck.

“Just a little gift, to keep the other men away,” he said as he pulled back to look at your skirt. “Now, where were we?”

His hands made quick work of the buttons on your skirt, kneeling down as it slid down your legs. Leaning forward, he kissed the exposed skin of your waist as he pulled the ribbon of your drawers, pulling them down to expose you completely to his gaze.

“Get on the bed, sweetheart,” he gently commanded as he got up and started to take off his pants. You did as he said, your eyes riveted to him as he stripped, every inch of his body muscled and toned and, at least for tonight, all yours. He reached down to stroke his cock slowly, a smirk forming on his handsome face.

“Spread your legs,” he said as he climbed onto the bed. Laying between your knees, he kissed around your inner thigh, nuzzling your skin with his stubbled cheek. Then, as his eyes locked with yours, he lowered his mouth to your core and gave you the most intimate kiss, open mouth with tongue.

“Oh lord,” you uttered between moans, Everett’s tongue and lips making you whimper helplessly, his merciless ministrations leaving you panting with pleasure. Just when you were reaching your peak, he pulled away and started to kiss a line up your body before reaching your face.

“Kiss kiss,” he mumbled before he locked lips and breathed you in, pressing his tongue into your mouth and making you taste yourself. When he pulled away, he gently rolled you over to one side. With one arm snaking under your neck and around your shoulders, his other hand lifted your leg up. You felt the tip of him nudging your wet slit, gently sliding around you.

“Ready for me?”

“Yes,” you whispered.

He pushed inside of you easily, as if your body had been ready and waiting for him this whole time. Rolling his hips, Everett held you close, keeping a steady pace as he filled you, over and over again, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear.

“You’ve been so good, haven’t you?” he murmured. “Controlin’ your urges, not giving in…” He trailed off, nuzzling you instead, his hand gripping your shoulder. You reached behind you and fisted his hair as he let go of your leg and reached around to finger your core. Rubbing you expertly, knowing the exact pace and strength with which to touch you, he nearly drove you to completion, your peak just with reach…

Then he stopped and slowly pulled out of you. Whining, frustrated that you were so close again, you slapped his chest as he rolled you onto your back.

Grabbing your hand, he glared at you with an intense look in his eyes.

For a few seconds, you forgot to breathe. This was the Everett you first met, the one who had devoured you, and you had begged for more.

Then the look in his eyes softened and he brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingertips. “All in due time, sweetheart.”

Spreading your legs, he drove himself inside of you again, and this time, he gave into his own carnal needs, fucking you wildly, crushing your body as he fell upon you and pumped his hips, desperate to feel your tightness around his cock.

“You feel so good, so fucking good,” he growled. “Come for me, sweet pet.”

You had been edged long enough; the sweet release flooded your body, the wave of euphoria making your mind go blank as you clung to Everett as you cried out, wrapping your legs and arms around him and holding on for as long as your release continued to shake you. Trembling as the aftershocks rumbled through you, you finally let go of him, your limbs falling to the bed with an audible thump.

Everett murmured your name as he pulled out of you, lifted himself up on one arm, took himself in one hand, and finished onto your stomach. His face of pure ecstasy, his eyes fluttering shut as he sighed and moaned, was followed by a satisfied smile that brightened his cornflower blue eyes and made his smolder twice as devastating.

“You’re beautiful,” he said reverently as he leaned in to kiss the tip of your nose. You watched as he got up to get a washcloth, wet it in the basin, and came back to you to clean up his mess. He rubbed you gently, being careful not to push too hard against your now sore areas. Afterwards, he cleaned himself off and went to his satchel. He pulled out a bag of candies and sat on the bed, tucking you into the covers and pulling you onto his lap. Taking out a small white mint, he held it to your lips.

Without being asked, you opened your mouth and let him feed you the soft mint candy, letting it melt in your mouth as he stroked your back.

“This is perfect,” Everett said absentmindedly. “I love takin’ care of you.”

You turned your head to look at him, and the tenderness in his gaze made your face heat up and your heart race. He took both your hands in his and hugged you.

“I don’t know why you make me feel this way, but I ain’t lettin’ you go. You just feel right.” Using one hand to tip your chin towards him, he stared at you intently. “I want you to be mine. Only mine.”

“But I might steal again.”

“Do you want to?”

“No…”

“If you don’t want to steal, then I’ll help you stop yourself.” He kissed your cheek tenderly. “I’ll help you. So rely on me a little more. Please.”

In this new town, with this new life you were carving out for yourself, you truly believed that you could change. What you were before, who you were before, these were things that Everett knew about you and yet he still accepted you.

“Alright, Everett. I’ll stay with you.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

The warm feeling in your heart that flowed through the rest of your body made you feel comforted and accepted.

It felt like you had come home.

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

End Notes: I hope everyone who likes Everett enjoyed this fic! This is probably the end of this little series, just a nice conclusion to this trilogy of self-indulgent fics. Onwards and upwards!

#everett osborn #f!reader #everett x F!reader #everett x reader #writing #fanfic #nsft #lemon fanfic #tumblr gift #rdo oc

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bloodys44 · 4 years ago

Text

Silence and Cigarette Smoke

Original story and bonus content found here! ↓↓↓↓

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13289933/1/Silence-and-Cigarette-Smoke

(Also I’m so sorry the last chapter posted all jumbled together like that. And also that I’m to garbage to fix it) The issue with chapter 7 not being viewable though ff.net also seems to be resolved so feel free to read some more if you enjoy. :)

Warning//Gore

Chapter 4: The Post Birthday Bloodbath

788

The dull thundering of a train traveling over laid track had always sounded soothing to Lucy. Whether it was a version of simple white noise or one of few comforting memories from her days of running, she could never tell. Something about the rhythmic sway of the train car, mixing with the light hum of the metal hovering. She would argue that she never slept better, besides maybe sleeping near Natsu during the cold winter months. A perk she had come to favor about him over the years. And yet, the rattling of their train compartment lacked its usual lulling charm, her mind wired yet not focused on anything in particular. The dark of the sky had crept up slowly, tearing apart the wicked blue that it had previously embodied. Stella wasn't overly far away, a neighbouring continent overthrown by the Fiore army. Majority of the land was underdeveloped, a cluttered mess of forest and mountains. A singular city near the center was all that resided on the vast land, thus keeping the name of the continent itself. Their train wasn't due to reach the platform until the early hours of the morning, and Lucy couldn't help but let an annoyed sigh escape at the thought. There were at least four more hours of traveling remaining, and time seemed to be passing at half it's regular speed. Not to mention the fact that her companions were sleeping soundly, letting the night slip away without a worry.

They had lucked out with a train equipped well for travel, small, but personal compartments lining down each side of the train's cars. The compartment's themselves were nothing extravagant, simple cloth-covered benches mirroring one another. The sliding door creaking obnoxiously when it was opened. If anything, it's most astounding feature was the lingering smell of old shoes and musty wood.

Lucy glanced over to her pink-haired partner, smirking with slight pity for the boy. Natsu had never served well with travel, a rather astonishing relationship with motion sickness. Even in his sleeping state, she could tell he was miserable, clutching the edges of his stomach with purpose. Porlyusica, the guilds head medical attendant had explained it stemmed from his dragon-slaying abilities. Supposedly his senses were so over heightened, the motion of vehicles rattled his own sense of balance. Still, it didn't make it any less enjoyable to tease said boy about it. Currently, he was seated with his shoulder blades pressed heavily into the cushioned backrest, leaning his head against the chilled window pane. A frame of light fog splaying from where his skin connected, the contrast in temperatures causing the reaction. Natsu was always warm, his average body temperature running much higher than that of a regular human. Though when he slept, it usually spiked much higher, his concentration lacking, barely keeping his own skin under control. He had never voiced it to Lucy, but she knew it was a draining task for him, his wild emotions always causing it to fluctuate. When he got overly flustered or rageful he became damn near scalding. Lucy never really minded it, especially in situations like this, his natural body heat making for a cozy effect. She was curled up on the opposite side of the bench, her back resting against the wall connected to the sliding door. With a muffled groan she moved to remove her freezing toes from the constraints of her boots, deciding to take advantage of the living heater across her. Tucking her feet under his left thigh carefully, she relished in the heat before his sudden jolt startled her. Almost instantly the warmth retracted, simmering under his pores. A slight pout overtaking her lips while she stared at his wide, yet sleep-filled eyes. Of course, he would wake up from the sudden change in atmosphere, the boy always on edge while away from the guild.

"Sorry," He mumbled sheepishly, "Did I get too hot again? I didn't mea-"

"No, it's alright, I was just warming my toes." She cooed, interrupting his typical nervous ramblings. "Sorry I woke you."

"S'all right, wasn't sleeping that good anyway." He shifted in his seat, stretching his strong arms wide with a rough yawn before facing her again. His eyes trailed over the compartment quickly, stopping briefly on all the exit points. The door, the window, and the emergency exit placed snuggly between the roofs panels. His shoulders taking on their practiced tense state as he strained his hearing. Lucy could barely hold back the amused smirk that danced over her face when she saw his nose twitch. Her lips only pulling back wider as he continued his practiced motions, checking the surrounding area for any danger. The nose on that boy could beat that of trained hound any day.

"What, afraid the black wizard might get ya?" She teased, wiggling her fingers at him for emphasis.

Natsu only sighed embarrassingly, scratching at the side oh his throat. Subconsciously acting on his traditional nervous habit."Sorry, Stella always-"

"-Makes you nervous," She finished easily. "I know." She slid her feet deeper under his leg, adjusting until she felt comfortable again. His on edge behavior wasn't unusual when they traveled through Stella, always becoming an anxious mess that intensified greatly the closer they got. He never delved into details about it, always stomping her curiosity with a simple defense. Just a bad feeling. She could practically feel her eyes rolling, hearing his voice clearly pronounce the words in her head.

"Honestly, it makes me nervous too," Lisanna added on a whisper, sluggishly pushing herself up from her resting position. Delicate fingers brushing the sleep from her electric eyes. "After all, its where Zeref was born."

Zeref. The great black wizard. A mage trailed only by the stench of death, or so the legends say. Though he hadn't been sighted in years, his very name still struck fear into the hearts of mages and non-magic users alike. A young boy with the tongue of the devil. His very words a magic vice on your mind. He controlled what he wanted, and that was that. "They say he's immortal." The white-haired woman started again. "A blade couldn't pierce his heart."

Now Lucy's eyes really did roll in their sockets. "Please, your only going to rile him up more." She gestured over to Natsu who served her a practiced annoyed frown. "He'll be on edge until we hit Magnolia again."

Lissana giggled slightly, turning her attention to him. "Don't worry, nobody's seen him in years, it's nothing to stress over."

"Doesn't mean he's gone." He bounced back. "Regardless, there's enough to worry about in Stella with or without him." Lissana's brow arched, curiosity plain as she questioned the statement. "Stella's crawling with royal knights, it's the second base from the border of Bosco."

"I thought there was a ceasefire?" She pressed, to which Natsu scoffed.

"They won't stop until they find Mavis's grave."

"What do they want with the holy goddess?"

"Mavis was the first grand witch," Lucy interjected. "It's rumored her grave carry's the secret to eradicating all enchantments."

Lissana hummed in understanding. "So basically mages should be avoiding this area?" She laughed weekly, crossing her arms with lazy movements. "What a perfect place for us."

"If we keep our hoods up we should be fine," Lucy stated pointedly. "Stella's train station is the major rest point between Seven, Bosco, Iceberg and Joya, there's lots of travelers with new faces. Makes it pretty easy to blend in. Besides, nothing remotely bad has ever happened to us while traveling there. It'll be good to keep our wits about us, but Natsu's major anxiety is a little overkill."

"I just have-"

"A bad feeling?" She finished for him again, rather cheekily. "I know." She nudged him with the top of her foot at his exaggerated eye-roll. "I have no doubts we'll make it back just fine. Lissana peeled her legs from the front of the bench, pulling them upwards to rest her chin on her knee.

"Aren't you from Stella, Natsu?" The man grunted slightly, stiffening and sending the woman a warning look before granting a structured nod.

"Did you ever see him as a child? The black wizard I mean. I think he would have been a few years older, but still a child back then."

"No." His response blunt and harsh, pushed over his teeth. Lucy quirked a brow, scanning over Natsu intently. He crossed his arms at her curiosity, a blank statement that he wasn't planning on explaining the situation further. Lissana sighed, placing a hand under her delicate chin.

"Stella is where Gildarts found Natsu as a child." She explained to the blonde. "He grew up there."

"Come on Lissana." He hissed back. His arms twitching as they stretched over his chest.

"How come you never told me that?" Lucy pressed, fixated on the man's jittery movements. "I thought you didn't remember your childhood?"

"I remember bits and pieces." He slumped backward obnoxiously, deciding that he was definitely stuck in this conversation now. "I just never thought it was important."

"You know where I grew up." She defended shortly.

"Geeze," he scoffed at the blonde playfully. "Like that was a hard one, Princess of Fiore."

The blonde found herself pulling a pout. She wasn't trying to be rude, only holding genuine curiosity about her best friend's life before her. "Well, maybe we could stop at your childhood home before we leave? It would be nice to see where you grew up." Her face warming as she beamed at the boy.

"It doesn't exist anymore." The words forced roughly from his tongue. "I burned it down." She didn't miss the slight twitch of his shoulders, or the way his voice threatened to crack. He puffed out a never mind before claiming he was getting some air, the trains rattling my stomach. A blunt end to their conversation. He was up in a single movement, pushing through the door and ignoring the wine of the sliding mechanics as it slammed back to its original closed resting state.

"Don't take it personally, Natsu's very protective of himself." Lissana tried, (as if Lucy didn't already know that) hopping over to sit next to the blonde. "I shouldn't have brought it up, I only know because I was there the day he arrived. I thought maybe he would have told you, finally opened up to somebody."

"Why would he open up to me? You've known him much longer."

Lissana huffed playfully, tossing her hair with a flick of her wrist. "Even I can see the way he looks at you, all doe-eyed and bashful. It's hard not to notice really."

"Natsu is anything but bashful." Lucy scoffed, giggling slightly. "Though I'm sure I could say the same for you."

"That's sweet of you to say," The fair-haired maiden flushed, "But I have my theories." Lucy stilled for a moment. Was she making a joke? Natsu had never pushed the boundaries that they had established over the years of their friendship, unlike he pushed for the fair-haired woman. Maybe it was because her feelings were so blatant, easy to play off of. Not to mention the comfort fo the family dynamic he shared with her siblings. It's not like she could find any reason she wouldn't want to notice casual pining in her direction, especially from somebody like him, any girl could dream of being so lucky. It was just that it didn't happen like that, and she didn't see any change for the future.

"You're ridiculous." She decided as a response, to which Lissana chuckled fondly. The rest of the trip remained rather silent, even after the dragon slayers return.

Meeting with the client went well, no arguments or concerns from the traveling wizard trio. The client himself was nothing out of the ordinary, a common man whose mother had been a successful wizard. Though he possessed no enchantment of his own, he held the secret of magic secure. The man owned a gracious amount of property in the city, majority of the population's homes falling on his land. Expressing his concerns for the people he bid the group luck as they headed to find the feverish bandit group that had been terrorizing them. Natsu didn't remove his face-concealing cloak, let alone speak during the whole exchange which only left the blonde wondering if he recognized the man from his childhood years. Unlikely as it was, she couldn't shake the suspicion; her friend's body language balancing on peculiar.

The bandit group, Twilight Oger (or so they called it.) had taken up residence in the city's abandoned mine. Converting the tunnels into a makeshift base. The group had established a rather daunting reputation with the city of Stella, the citizens growing too weary to attempt to run them out on their own. The royal guard batting an unusually blind eye. The rumor of their supposed sex trafficking didn't sit well with Lucy either. "We should set up a plan," Lissana suggested lightly. Her voice a much-needed contrast to the silence they had been walking in.

"Walk through the front doors and knock some heads."

Lucy shook her head playfully at the brash fire-breather, shoving his shoulder slightly. "I think we should split up," The peppy white-haired woman continued. "It would be easier to sneak around, a stealthy approach might be best considering we don't know how spread out in the tunnels they are."

"Also easier for one of us to get caught off guard. Aren't these thugs notorious for trapping woman?"

"You aren't traveling with common woman Natsu." The fair-haired woman retorted back. "Don't be so degrading, we can handle ourselves just fine." The peaceful smile she sported did little to sweeten her harsh words. Though Lucy found herself nodding slowly in agreement. "Plus it'll allow me to try out my new spell without you two getting in the way." She winked cheekily.

"I dunno," the dragon slayer mumbled, scratching at his throat in practiced fashion. "I really think we should stick together, I have a bad feeling about this place." Lucy could practically taste the anxiety of his words as they dripped over his chin. They should probably listen, Natsu's suspicions usually turned out to be right. But his overly annoying constant worrying from the city made it hard to distinguish his keen senses from his blind panic. Nothing ever happened to them in Stella. A nieve approach yes, but also a chance to prove herself to the man that always seems to protect her.

"I think it should be alright," the blonde finally interjected. "The tunnels should echo enough to hear one another if we call for help." Natsu simply shook his head muttering an annoyed Whatever under his breath. She felt kind of bad, gaining up on the man. This was supposed to be his birthday mission after all. But in all honestly, Lucy found herself surprisingly excited, an opportunity to show her teammate how far she'd advanced. A fully-fledged Fairy Tail member that could handle her own.

The group traveled to their destination at a quick pace. The air filled with Lissana's constant enamored pestering towards a certain Salamander. Lucy more distracted by the winding paths of the city's streets, decorated sporadically with aged trees and vegetation. She thought it was rather sweet, how well her two teammates were getting along. Even with Lissana's words on the way over. It was nice to see Natsu's pleased expression towards the woman. A long-time childhood friend and admirer. Though their newest member still bristled her, Lucy made a silent promise to invite her out with them more. It was nice to travel alongside another female, and if it made Natsu happy, then she was sure she could live with it.

The sun was beginning to set by the time they arrived, the night sky pouring out for its time to play. The stars blessing Lucy's soul, her magic vibrating deliciously under her skin. Her power almost doubling in the light of the night. The moon's shift was her favorite time to cast. As they stepped through the taped off mine entrance she could practically feel her excitement begin to bubble over. Traditionally she held a rather level head during missions, keeping her partner's explosive personality in check. Yet she found herself letting go, ready to show off her own power.

"I really think we should push through together," Natsu mumbled under his breath. The words so foreign on the rambunctious man's tongue; always ready to run ahead of the group in search of action, yet never far enough away that he couldn't protect those closest to him. It wasn't a secret that he was much stronger than his usual travel partner Lucy, but she didn't want him to feel obligated in protecting her when he already does so much.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" Lissana bubbled, already skipping off towards one of the winding shafts. Lucy's lips pulling into a smile as she began following her lead towards another turn-off.

"Lucy." Her name pronounced like rocks on cement, jaded and sharp. She spun on her heel carefully, her smile falling at the dragon slayer's serious tone.

"I can take care of myself Natsu." She mused. "You don't need to hold my hand all the time."

A low grumble resounded in the boy's throat as he ran his rough fingers through spiked locks nervously. "Geeze Luce, I know I don't." She raised her eyebrow at his cautious tone. "It's just.. last time you were on your own I found you beaten half to death in the middle of the forest."

All mocking aside, Lucy felt her temper skyrocket. Of course, he didn't think she was capable. "I'm not a fragile little princess anymore. That was years ago." She spat, anger boiling over. "You don't need to save me all the time."

"I know, I know... I just want you to be careful. Sometimes you have trouble keeping your magic under control during the night."

"Like you're one to talk, you burn everything around you the second your emotions get out of wack." Internally she knew her anger was getting the better of her, words falling from her jaw faster then her mind could process. He was just worried about her, as a caring teammate should be. The pained expression he was now wearing only verified that fact. Mindlessly her fingers began fidgeting at her belt. Her lungs pushing her spitfire attitude out with a breathy exhale. "I'm sorry Natsu, that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said that. I'm just excited is all. I'll be careful, I promise." Natsu's deep onyx gaze burned into her for a moment before he nodded, although reluctant, it was an agreement none the less. She reached out, squeezing his wrist confidently before turning back to face her chosen path. "You be careful too! Mira will surly cut off my head if I bring you home needing more stitches."

The forgotten shafts were confusing, to say the least. The floorplan coming across as sporadic and unplanned. There was little that argued what a great hideout it made, trapping its victims in a maze until they were prayed upon by vicious ogres. The lack of security flowing down the halls only proving that their targets felt the same way. Lucy had only run into two men along the way, their skills lacking, making it an easy victory for the blonde. The lack of scream's echoing offered that her teammates were fairing the same. Even with their earlier agreement that stealth was the best option, Natsu had never been the quiet/silent type. Especially when fired up in a battle. Either the mine shafts didn't share sound as good as Lucy had estimated, or he hadn't run into anyone just yet.

The must that surrounded her intensified greatly as she progressed, the smell practically suffocating her. Senses dampened by its nature. The only sound around her was the clack of boots connecting to the rocky earth, and the creaky hinge of the lantern strung to her hip. The ground becoming less and less traveled. It was peculiar really, with the placement of the mine so central to town. One would think at least a few curious teenagers would have come to poke around before rumors had sprouted about Twilight ogres appearance. And yet her footprint's were the only evidence of human life.

Groaning loudly, Lucy spun, heading back towards the entrance. Agitated that her luck pulled her towards one of the unused routes. Expectedly her group had already rounded up majority of their targets while she wandered around uselessly. Placing her palm to her forehead she let out an embarrassed huff. All her big talk was for nothing, the harsh tone she had used against her friend making her mood plummet even farther. All she could do now was pick up her pace and hope she could make herself helpful with tying up loose ends. Lucy always hated when jobs turned out this way, especially when Natsu insisted she collected her portion of the reward despite her actual effort. Not that it mattered today, this mission was supposed to be for Natsu after all. And truthfully after Lissana had decided to join them she had done nothing to make the trip enjoyable for her pink-haired friend. Silently she promised to the empty halls that she would apologize to him when they finished their job.

When Lucy rounded the corner back to the entrance she was debating which tunnel to follow. Pacing back and forth in front of Natsu's entrance before resolving that his nose probably led him exactly where he wanted to go. With quick steps she bounded down the winding hall's, trying her best to stay along the path of the firebreathers signature sandal footprints.

A scream that caused her blood to run cold echoed around her with striking prominence. Lissana's sweet tone coming across shrill and ragged. There wasn't a moment to process before Lucy's legs propelled her forward. The sound of angelic sobs guiding her path. Any and all excitement she had previously been consumed with smothered like a candle without oxygen. The shaft began to blossom with light as she rounded each corner, the weight barring planks becoming more and more re-enforced. If that wasn't already enough clues she was approaching the center of the base, the newly constructed grand entrance that appeared before her did.

Acting quickly, Lucy pressed herself against the corner of the doorframe, analyzing the situation before charging headstrong into the commotion. Obviously, the treacherous group had put some work in. The cavern dugout to be much larger than anything man-made underground should be. Large metal lanterns decorating the ceiling with patterned placement. Casting enough light to see, but not enough to dismiss the eerie atmosphere. Small beds, makeshift furniture and gang members coating the outer walls while the center remained bare. Except of course for the probable main event of their evening.

A rugged-looking man stood center a wooden stage-like platform. Greasy hair curling over knarled shoulders. Even in the dim light, Lucy couldn't miss the disgusting gleam of the man's golden teeth. Oh so typical of a rich bandit. But what really caught her off guard was the squirming woman entrapped by his rugged arms, top strewn aside leaving her covered only in lacy white undergarments. His chapped lips smirking into her cheek while he pinned her against his bare chest. His one hand prying dirty fingers into her supple mouth while the other pressed a rusty blade to her exposed stomach. Though not enough pressure to break skin, it was just enough to make Lucy's mouth run dry.

"Let her go." Natsu's enraged voice scrapped over every surface, demanding attention from all living things. Lucy cast her eyeline off to the side, finally noting her partner's presence. His clothes looked slightly battle-torn, but overall he looked un-worrisome. His expression was firm, lips drawn into a tight line while his eyes trained on the enemy standing before him. Even from her placement on the other side of the cavern, Lucy could feel the scorching waves roll off of him. A terrifying might in the face of adversity.

"What are you going to do about it fire boy?" The man's shrill voice causing Lucy to shiver. "Even if you get rid of us, more will come. Those royal soldiers are very eager customers. And there's plenty of women to go around here." Natsu lunged forward, feet indenting the ground with sheer pressure. The man howled playfully, cackling like a madman as he sidestepped out of harm's way. Lissana squeaking at the sudden movement." Natsu spun quickly, fang-like teeth bared while he coiled his muscles, ready for his next pounce. "Make a move like that again and I might have to carve up your little girlfriend early!' The blade against her stomach pressed deeper, causing Lissana to jolt, a high pitched screech crawling between the man's fingers. A sloppy line of red spilling from her torso down the hilt of the blade. Natsu looked frozen, his eyes never daring to stray from the glint of metal. Mind fighting with his anger to consider the safest course of action.

Shit shit shit. This was definitely not how Lucy had expected to reunite with her teammates. Instantly her fingers shot into the confines of her purse, searching desperately for the lone piece of white chalk she always carried. Mind racing dangerously through her memorized incantations. Though her magic wasn't necessarily designed for hand to hand combat like Natsu's, she held a natural talent for spellcasting. Confident that she was capable of at least making a big enough distraction for Natsu to proceed, she started scratching the lines of a practiced magic circle. The white of the chalk easily visible over the dark rock beneath her. Her frantic hand movements made the lines far less legible then she preferred, but it would do for now. The blonde dropped her weight to the floor, careful in her attempt to stay silent as she crossed her legs. Delicate palms slapping against the earth over her created circle. Her eyelids slamming shut in concentration while her lips parted for the whisper of incantation. Almost instantly the very ground beneath them shook with purpose, guiding cracks up the walls and spewing rocks from the ceiling. She didn't worry about frightening her teammates, she knew Natsu could smell her, even with his focus concentrated elsewhere. Hopefully, they could get this situated and escape to safety before she brought heaven's wrath down atop their heads. The spell itself was no easy feat, calling upon the gods light to alter the earth. Lucy only capable of casting it under the light of the moon. No doubt it would bring attention from the townsfolk their way, but at this moment the blonde thought it was the best course of action. She could feel the shudder under her legs as the shafts hidden deeper under the earth collapsed, the roaring sound of rockfall scattering through the cavern.

Natsu's strong tone carried over easily as he sneered cheekily, "Now you really fucked up. Gone and made the angel mad." Even in deep concentration, Lucy felt a smile drum at her lips.

"I already knew there was three of you. We thieves hear of all magic activity in Stella. She's no threat, pesky fairies lack the resolve to drop the ground over the heads of their 'comrades'."

"Bet." The dragon slayer's singular cocky reply sang like a choir to Lucy, pushing her magic to expand outwards. A sickening crack bestowed over them, one of the main support beams snapping under pressure. The scared cries of ogres screaming far louder. The blond's brow furrowed slightly as she felt her very skin vibrate, her magic fluctuating drastically. "You're okay Lucy." Natsu's voice rang true, obviously taking notice in her power surge. Yes, she was O.K. She wouldn't falter so easily when her friend's lives were on the line. She just had to keep the main cavern intact a little longer, enough time for them to escape. She was strong, and she could do it.

The man continued to cackle hysterically, bouncing his weight between his feet. "Bad move fire boy." He taunted. All Lucy could hear was Lissana's blood curtailing wail and Natsu's panicked shouts when she realized they had lost. Her lashes fluttered open, eyes rolling uncomfortably as her vision was obstructed by blinding light. She couldn't stop. She was losing control, just as her partner had foreseen. Her own magic blinding her sight.

"Lucy!" Natsu's worried screech reached from the main cavern. "Cut the fuse!" A pit burned its way into the depths of her stomach, fear of how this situation was going to end if she couldn't regain control. All she had wanted to do was help, and now the situation was only going to get worse. Splinters of support beams rained furiously over her, enraged with being disturbed after so many silent years. She felt her body shake with the earth's pure ferocity. "Please, Lucy!" He tried again, his voice swirling with Lissana's wild screams. She still couldn't stop. She was going to kill them all.

Lucy wasn't sure how many agonizingly slow minutes had passed when her vision finally re-focused, disturbingly strong hands clamping around her delicate wrist's and pulling her back to earth. And god, what an unpleasant sight to be greeted with. Two men that reeked of whiskey and sex smirking greedily at her.

"You's a pretty scary witch when you're casting, eyes going all white and shit. Body twitching like an addict." Lucy scrambled back frantically, her spine slamming into the stone arch. The men leaping upon her with a timed pounce, pinning her tightly against the frame. The first man stretching his fingers around her chin. "But yet, your so pretty. I'd have fun breaking a little thing like you." His alcohol glazed tongue searing along her creamy cheek. Lucy screeched vividly in disgust, springing her knee upwards to the man's groin. He recoiled with blunt movements, swinging his arm around to backhand her. The ferocity splitting her skin. "You sly bitch!" He fired another shot to her jaw. "You's makin' enemies with the wrong person." She tried to pry her head away from the man's violent swings, eyes scrambling to take in her surroundings. Small pebbles and dust still gave way from the ceiling, but the ground seemed to have relaxed, her magic cut out at the roots. The tunnel she had originally traveled down lay in ruin, barley leaving enough space for a full-grown adult to crawl back to the light. Thankfully though, the traumatizing screams had stopped, Natsu's much calmer voice the only thing ringing out.

"You okay Lucy?!"

If the blonde hadn't received another painful blow to her lower lip she probably would have snickered. "A little preoccupied at the moment." She grunted, purposely spitting the blood that was pooling around her gums over her assailant's face. She bucked her legs intently, thrashing around like a child until she freed one of her arms. With a sinched brow she slammed her palm over the first man's chest, muttering a simple incantation that caused her hand to pulse. Holy light rained down again, this time pin-pointed above her enemy's lungs and flinging him backward through the semi-demolished doorway and into the main cavern. A short victory smile produced from her mouth before she felt her body tremor. A light, yet firm reminder of how much magic she had just finished exerting, and how fragile it made her body.

Sucking in a deep breath she tried to muster strength from tomorrow, using her free hand to claw into the dirt. Muscles protesting annoyingly while she pulled herself away from the remaining man. "Not so fast witch." His tone twisting the word to sound like a vulgar insult. The hilt of his own blade striking into the round bone of her ankle. A torn wail exhaled from her, reacting to the pain but thanking the heavens that she hadn't heard the crack of her bones splitting. It wasn't much, but it gave the man an opening, tucking his legs in only to spring them out into her back. Shoving her ungracefully through the frame to join the rest of the crowd. Lucy cradled her ribs carefully, attempting to regain the air that man had so rudely ripped away from her. She was only able to catch a glimpse of her dragon slayers unreadable expression before more greedy hands tore her from the ground, dragging her center-stage to join the 'show'.

"Well fire boy, I suppose thanks are in order." The leader mewled again tapping his now drenched blade against a whimpering Lissana's torso. "Bringing me two of the most beautiful woman in Fiore and barely puttin up a fight to keep them." He was taunting now, voice never losing his deranged laughter. "Don't know why to maidens of this caliber are slugging around with someone like you, but I guess I should give you a little credit," Natsu growled darkly, his body growing tenser (If that was even possible), muscles coiling dangerously. The leader followed Lucy with hungry eyes, watching as Lucy was strung up by another man in the same manner as Lissana. The only difference was the blade pushing fearfully hard against the pulse point of her throat, leaving her stomach out of harm's way. Honestly, she wasn't sure which she would prefer more. She watched Natsu's dark anguish filled orbs bounce back and forth between her and Lissana. She tried to capture his attention, pleading with him by expression that everything was going to be alright. That he should focus on the more injured of the two and leave her to her own devices, but his glance never lasted long enough. "I know!" The leader piped up again excitedly. "It seems a little unfair to steal away both your girls after that pathetic display," He toyed, "So, how about I suggest a little game?"

"I ain't playing shit." Natsu responded bluntly.

"Don't be such a downer fire boy, this will be fun."

"Every time I hear that, things don't usually end up being that 'fun'." He spat. relaxing his tight fist momentarily before clenching it again.

The leader only smiley devilishly, continuing his frantic knife tapping over Lissana's stained skin. "I'm going to let you pick one." He decided. "Pick a girl to take home while one rots away under some pompous sex-deprived guard." The look on Natsu's face practically shattered Lucy's heart. One of absolute horror that something like that had even been offered to him. His singular broken reply of sick bastard weighing heavily on the limited oxygen.

"It's okay Natsu," Lucy offered dumbly, wincing when the tip of the blade punctured her skin. Hot thick liquid oozing down her neck, threatening to break her resolve. "Take Lissana out of here, I'll be alright." She tried to produce a weak smile but Natsu's sad cold eyes froze her as he shook his head. She gulped loudly, feeling the blade press deeper with her every word. Her captor obviously not pleased with her speech. "Please." She tried again, but Natsu only shook his head faster.

"No way in hell."

"This is so not the time to be stubborn." She retched, cringing at the sticky feeling coating over her chest. She tried to ask him again but the blade slid uncomfortably under her skin and all she could summon was strangled yelp. Surprisingly, it did nothing to help the exchange.

The dragon slayer's eyes bulged, raising his arm's defensively, voice frantic and lost. "Stop!" He yelled, "Don't hurt them anymore, give me a second to think!" She had never seen the man look so uncomfortable.

Lucy slammed her eyes shut at her holders' increasingly wild movements, jerking the blade against her without a care. "This is ridiculous lover boy," The leader spat over his laughter. "I, out of the goodness of my own heart offer you back one of the women you practically dropped in my lap. And you cant even decide which pussy you'd rather ride? Pathetic!" He hollered, the rest of his goon's joining in. "I'm good and bored now, you sucked all the fun out of this. I don't even need these girls!" At this point, it was hard to distinguish words through his manic howls. "You have three seconds before I just kill them both." Natsu's attention snapped back to him like his mind was finally processing the events that were about to unfold.

The cold-hearted cheering of a slow count sprouted from the other members. Starting at Three and barley pronouncing the O in One before all hell broke loose. The roaring sound of metal clad boots slamming into the earth above, signaling the extremely overdue arrival of the royal army. Bandits screaming and crawling over one another like wild animals in search of escape from a rabid predator. And Natsu's scalding shoulder crashing into her sternum, throwing her away from the wicked man's grasp. She rolled roughly against the dirt, hand shooting to her throat to pressurize the bleeding. She was gulping greedily for air when she heard the stomach flipping joyful voice cry out above the commotion. "Good choice! I think I would have picked her too." Nothing but freezing, blood-curdling cries followed. Lucy felt her limbs stiffen at the sound, her chocolate irises the only responsive part of her body. Taking in her horrific environment with shocking detail. Natsu was only a few steps away from Lissana, His body recovering quickly from surging towards her, propelling him back to the remaining prisoner. But a few steps was a few too many, and Lucy and her partner could do nothing but watch as their friend was quite literally gutted before them.

Blood had always been red. But nothing compared to the deep scarlet pooled around the stark white of Lissana's being. An enraged bloody titan plucking the clouds goddess right from the sky and dragging her to the fiery pits of hell. That is, if hell consisted of somebody shredding your torso to smithereens and hysterically laughing as vital organs spewed through the skin. Lucy was sure that in this world, nothing would ever hold a candle to the vile scene displayed before her. The grotesque sound of a lifeless body crashing limply over its inner parts. The ferocious roar of a wounded dragon casting thieves to scaper away, a high pitched squeal on their lips. All the while a daunting march of hungry war men encroached on them.

Lucy's head snapped painfully back to reality. They couldn't stay here, the army would swallow them alive. The Ogres were sprinting out of a tunnel near the back of the cavern, no doubt another way out laid beyond it. They still had a chance. With a silent prayer to all that was holy, she pulled herself up from her shambled mess on the floor. Taking rushed staggered footsteps towards her partner and the offending carcass in front of him. "Natsu..." She croaked. "We need to get out of here." She rested her palm on his shoulder, placing most of her weight on him. Her ankle lacking in its career of helping her walk. He didn't seem to notice her. Lips quivering as he muttered under his breath, fingers twitching, coated in the blood he had tried to prevent. "Natsu, we need to go..." She tried again, giving the man a light shake.

"We can't just leave her here..." His broken cry pleaded, head-spinning to meet her gaze. Never, in all the years Lucy had known Natsu, had she seen him cry. His deep onyx eyes swimming with salty tears, his raging passion extinguished. Her strong motivator completely shattered before her, frantically attempting to scoop spilled organs back into a frayed body. The footsteps of soldiers drawing ever closer as her own tears spilled over.

"Please Natsu." She sobbed, gaging slightly as blood bubbled from the split in her throat. She thought his previous expression succeeded in breaking her heart, but the look he was giving her now practically split it in two. A mangled pain-ridden yell erupting from his chest while he grasped Lucy's wrist, dragging her away from their murdered friend and the on slot of guards that inadvertently let it happen.

Again, check out the full story here! ↓↓↓↓

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13289933/3/Silence-and-Cigarette-Smoke

#natsu #natsu dragneel #lucy #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail #fairy tail fanfiction #fan fiction #lisanna strauss #zeref #Nalu #nalu fanfic #nalu fanfiction

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medusas-side-snake · 5 years ago

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Scarred - Chapter 1

Hi guys, this is the first chapter of my new Charlie Weasley fic. It will be updated every 3 days and there are more exciting development for the old fics and some new ones that are happening on my page!! Let me know if anyone wants to be tagged in anything

Megan works for the Order, she has been on a mission for them for over a year. A mission that was only supposed to last two weeks. Heritage means that she is on thin ice with the rest of the Order, mix that with some heartbreak by the dragon-loving Weasley boy and a certain Black family member with a vendetta and you have the following story.

The bus to Ottery St.Catchpole was packed with so many people that they were standing in the aisles. Still, I was given a wide berth.

About 13 months ago, Dumbledore sent me to recruit some reclusive magical community following the rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Dumbledore asked me specifically because these warlocks did not use wands, they thought wands hindered true ability and, since I am quite proficient at wandless, silent magic, I was the obvious choice.

It should have been easy, especially since He had just unmasked himself in the Ministry.

I had spent a year with the warlocks. Well, it was more like I spent a year imprisoned by the warlocks. They didn't like that people were trying to drag them into a battle that had nothing to do with them, however, being imprisoned by them did allow me to learn a few things.

1. They weren't interested in joining Voldemort. There were a number of His followers that were imprisoned with me, none of them lasted very long once the warlocks realised that they were low pay and didn't really know much about what was actually going on.

2. Even though they didn't want to join the fight, they were still interested in what was happening and why it had all happened. This was why I was still here. Those that came were useful to find out what was happening at the moment, I could tell them everything else. Of course, I didn't. I had no idea whose side they would choose should the fight come to them, which is why I was very careful with what I told them. I mainly fed them lies.

3. Not very many people are crueller than these people. To get them to believe the lies, I had to pretend I didn't want to give them up. This led to… persuasion tactics on their part. Basically, because they are so remote, the Ministry doesn't try to control them, meaning they have no limits on magic, they have no restrictions on magical creatures and there are no laws on what can and can't be done to prisoners.

I stood as my stop came up, pressing the bell to let the bus driver know to stop and making my way to the front of the bus.

A quick “Thanks" mumbled towards the bus driver and I was out and facing the trees, behind which lay The Burrow.

With a hiss of pain, I set off up the steep hill.

What would normally be a 5 minute hike, took me 20 minutes, but when I reached the top and I could see the Burrow, the pain was worth it. Lights shone from the windows scattered around the front of the house. Most importantly, the kitchen light was casting shadows across the garden. Someone was awake.

I started to limp as fast as I could towards the gate, containing the safety, comfort and warmth that I had grown accustomed to since 2nd Year.

Past the broom shed, past the tree that Charlie fell from to break his arm, past the wellie boots by the back step and then I was pushing open the kitchen door.

Faces turned towards me, too many to count when all I could think about was the pain I was in. A beat later I was surrounded, voice shouting over voices until “THAT’S ENOUGH!” That was Molly. Everyone stopped and took a step back as she pushed her way through. She looked shocked but she wasn't looking at me.

“Sirius…” I turned and was met with a wand at my throat. “Is that really necessary?”

“I'm afraid it is, Molly.” Even though he was talking to Molly, he hadn't looked away from me.

“The pureblood party.”

“I was a child!” I interrupted.

“The pureblood party.” He said more forcefully. “Who did we laugh at in my room?”

“Will it matter? You've never trusted me before, will that change if I get the answer right?”

“Are you refusing to answer the question?” He stepped closer and I could see him grip his wand tighter. He was deadly calm.

“Phineas. We were making fun of Phineas, when my mum found us. Does that change how you feel?” He stayed silent, and lowered his wand a couple of seconds too late. I guess that answered my question.

“Come on, dear. Let's get you cleaned up.” Molly started to gently push me towards the stairs. Neither me nor Sirius had looked away from each other yet, but at the push from Molly, I turned my head.

***

Molly didn’t really say much to me while she drew a bath. Everytime she glanced my way, she had tears in her eyes but before she left the bathroom, she did pull me into a hug. A proper mum hug as we both squeezed each other as tight as we could.

“I’m glad you’re back and I’m glad you’re okay. We’ve all been so worried.” As suspected, her voice was thick as she spoke.

I could tell that she desperately wanted to know what had happened, but she knew that she should wait until I told everyone downstairs. I mean, it was either that or she didn't trust me completely after everything that Sirius had no doubt been planting in her head for the past year. As soon as I had that thought I wanted to take it back. That was a path that I did not want to go down.

After I was cleaned up, I put on some of my old pyjamas (which were way too big now after having to save and ration the scraps that I was given to eat over the past year) and made my way downstairs. The voice of those in the kitchen travelled up the stairs, although there must have been an argument going on because they all mashed together and overlapped one another. I stopped a little from the bottom and tried to make sense of it all, though to be honest all I could clearly make out was Molly’s insistent ‘No! No! I won't believe that nonsense!’ After a couple more minutes of listening, which only served to make me more confused, I decided that it was time to go into the kitchen.

“She woul-!” Molly’s loud voice sounded over all the others, but stopped as soon as I was in the light. Just like all the others. So it was me they were talking about. Great. I mean, at least Molly had stuck up for me. Or that's what it sounded like.

I realised that I had hovered for a little too long in the doorway, making the whole atmosphere even more awkward and no doubt let everyone know that I knew what - or better yet who - they were talking about.

“I made stew for dinner. There's some left. Sit down now.” Molly bustled into action.

I sat awkwardly at the empty spot that she had left at the table. I looked up to see who was there. Alastair was sitting next to me, staring at me in earnest with both eyes. Next to him was Bill and next to him, Fleur, who I had only met once, briefly. They had their hands linked on the table, Fleur’s eyes never strayed from the family clock on the wall and Bill was looking over near the door.

The seat directly opposite me was empty.

Next to that was Remus, he was looking at Nymphadora Tonks, who was sitting next to him and she was looking directly over Bill’s head, out the kitchen window.

Next to me on the left was Sirius, he was staring at me with disgust, his usual face whenever he looked at me. I briefly thought about asking him what his problem was, but he had made it clear what his problem was many times. Me.

Molly put a big bowl of stew in front of me and a small plate of buttered bread beside me and I am not ashamed to say that I immediately tucked in. I don’t think that I have eaten so much in such a short amount of time.

I didn’t look up from my food even as Remus started to speak to me.

“So, Megan.” He cleared his throat and I hummed around a mouthful of food to show that I was listening. “Where have you been?” I found this strange as they were all aware of the mission that Dumbledore had given me, they all knew where I had been. Remus must’ve known what I was thinking as he followed up with, “The mission was supposed to be two tweeks at most, no-one has heard from you for over a year.”

“Went to Tralee. They don’t want to join our side, but they don’t want to join the death eaters either, so that’s something I guess.” I said around a mouthful of food. “Been there ever since.”

“Why?” It was Sirius who asked me this, in his usul abrupt tone that he undertook anytime he spoke to me.

‘“What do you mean ‘why’?” I swallowed my food and took on the usual defensive tone that I undertook whenever I spoke to him. “Have you seen the state of me? It wasn't exactly for fun. I didn’t have a choice.”

A hand on the arm from Remus stopped Sirius from replying and I took another bite of my bread.

“Dumbledore’s dead.” I stopped chewing and looked away from Sirius and down at my bowl as Alastair spoke.

“I know.” I said quietly.

“How did you get out?” Remus asked gently.

I swallowed my bread thickly as my stomach turned. I pushed my near-empty bowl away from me. “One of the women who brought me my food helped me escape.” I never even knew her name and she died for me.

“What happened?” Sirius, as gentle as ever.

I knew that this had been coming, and I was dreading it. I moved my shaking hands from my lap and placed them palm side down on the table. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” I put my head up and met his eyes and as soon as what I had said sunk in, I saw his eyes harden.

He opened his mouth to respond but Molly interrupted.

“That’s enough Sirius.” She used her ‘mum’ voice, the one that strongly implied that no-one should argue. And he didn’t, but he wasn’t happy about it. He let out a scoff and turned his head away from me.

That was the last of the conversation until Sirius declared that he was going to bed, and strode off and up the stairs before another word was spoken. Alastair announced that he was off home shortly after and Remus and Tonks that same. That left Bill, Fleur, Molly and myself. Fleur seemed to sense that it was time for her to go to bed and she left with a kiss to Bill’s head.

Molly waited a few minutes to make sure that no-one was on the stairs before she got up from the chair and rushed over to me. Immediately, I was pulled into a hug and we both clung to each other for a minute before another pair of arms joined and we were squeezed even tighter.

I was the first to begin crying. After being away from my family for so long, and after everything that I had been through, it was a bit overwhelming.

Bill started to cry next, his face was pressed into my hair and I could feel the tears he let out.

When she realised that we were both crying, Molly began to gently steer us into the living room. We all sat on the big sofa, Molly on my left with her arm around my shoulders as she pulled my head to rest in the crook of her neck, and Bill on my right, holding my hand and rubbing the back of it with one hand while he wiped his cheeks with the other.

I wrapped my free hand around Molly’s waist and squeezed to bring us closer together.

“They had dragons,” sobs from me “and they used them to,” more hiccuping and sobbing, “to… to…” I couldn’t get my words out and Molly was quick to turn her body to me and wrapped both arms around me. She began to rub my back in an attempt to soothe me.

“It’s okay dear, it’s okay.”

We stayed like that for a while, all mashed together.

“Where are the others?” I asked.

“They’re all in bed.” Bill’s voice was still thick with tears. “We thought about waking them while you were in the bath, but with the state that you were in,” He stopped and I squeezed his hand, “we didn’t want to scare them.”

“Okay.” We were silent for a moment longer and I wanted to tell them what had happened to me in the year that I had been away, but I didn’t know where to start.

I took a deep breath.

“When I got to Tralee, there were already two of His followers there.” I took a steadying breath and sat up so that I was no longer leaning on Molly, her arm was still around my shoulders though, so I was grateful for that.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell us.” Bill spoke gently as he continued to rub the back of my hand with his thumb.

“No, I want to.” And I began to tell them what had happened.

It took a long time and we took a few breaks as they told me all about what had happened while I was gone. Sometime during the night, Molly made tea and hot chocolate for us all.

It was only when Arthur came home, that we noticed the time, about 7 in the morning. As soon as he saw me, he stopped, dropped the suitcase he was carrying and opened his arms. I rushed forward and was welcomed into another signature Weasley hug as Molly and Bill both joined again.

“You guys look exhausted, why don’t you all go to bed, I’ll wake everyone up and we’ll go into the garden for a bit and give you some peace and quiet.” Tiredness seeped into me with every word of the sentence. Tea, hot chocolate and stories had kept me so awake that, now we had stopped, I could have fallen asleep where I stood.

#Charlie Weasley #Charlie Weasley x Reader #Harry Potter #Harry Potter Fanfic #Charlie Weasley Fanfic #Scarred

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ryttu3k · 4 years ago

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I want to have them all on Tumblr, so. Here are my reaction posts, in order, for Resolution of the Daleks and season 12, part 1!

Resolution of the Daleks

Thoughts on Doctor Who - Resolution! Spoilers, obviously!

Okay, negative first, just to get it out of the way. Doctor Who, I really appreciate that you consistently have queer minor characters and queer couples. Just super casual and all, as it should be. Now can you please stop killing off half of said couples? Angstrom's wife, Frankie, now this young guy? It's really not cool.

Don't think the voiceover worked. I feel the prologue would have worked better with just visuals.

Again, Yaz didn't have much to do. The Doctor got a ton of action, Ryan and Graham both had significant interactions with Aaron, Yaz was... just kind of there. I'm hoping that when the show comes back in a year, now that Ryan has largely dealt with his issues, Yaz will get more attention?

UNIT was killed by Brexit?! Fuckin' rude!

Okay, on to the positive!

The Dalek was, frankly, fucking scary. Despite knowing that the Doctor would beat it, obviously, it caused huge swathes of damage and racked up a... rather high body count. Like it felt like a proper threat. Also, its ability to stop the TARDIS tracking it and stuff. Lin's terror felt extremely genuine and it was just nice and horrific overall, like - if it wasn't for the Doctor, it would feel like a genuine threat to the entire Earth.

(Also, it shut down the wifi. On New Years Day. What a monster!)

Oh man that Dalek laughter. Creepy as fuck. The Doctor dragging it in via hologram to dare it to laugh in her face? Fucking iconic.

"I've learned to think like a Dalek." Oof.

Doctor vs Dalek. Not just the physical aspect, but the mental part - the Doctor recognising the seriousness of it, but also having that element of cockiness ("Oh, mate") because, frankly, she's dealt with bigger threats. She's right when she points out that the biggest problem will be if regular humans try to engage it!

Elements of Dark!Doctor when she asks the team - almost desperately - if she gave it enough chances, if she was nice enough. Because the Doctor can get fucking scary around Daleks and she knows it. She's nice. She's friendly. But she's also the Doctor, and the Doctor has done some really damn questionable things to stop the Daleks, and she knows that. Fantastically done and I still desperately want some proper Dark!Doctor.

Really liked the parallels between the Doctor using scrap to make her sonic screwdriver, vs the Dalek using scrap to make its armour. The Doctor makes a tool, the Dalek makes items of war. Of course, well, the Doctor is probably more dangerous just with a swiss army sonic than a Dalek blaster...

I love how the whole, "Dads are complicated... so I've heard" bit could refer to either the loom thing or the Doctor having actual parents or the Doctor being a shitty dad themself XD

Graham was so excited to show off the TARDIS! Like he's just going, "How cool is this?!"

There were some legitimately funny moments! Graham's chair, "I suppose... we'll have to have a... conversation?", "Junkyard chic"... UNIT was killed by Brexit like that's so awful but. But in a kind of funny way.

Okay, now the unsure. Ryan, Graham, and Aaron. Ryan and Graham have sorted out their issues - but Aaron is still such a big overshadowing part of it that it's a bit of a shock when he comes back in. As someone with a similarly shit biological father, I was completely empathising with Ryan in the coffee shop conversation. And I do understand why they wanted reconciliation, so they showed Aaron as acknowledging his bullshit and Ryan ultimately choosing to forgive and save him.

But it's just... not that easy. It's not all going to be perfect just because they stopped a Dalek together. Aaron's neglect hurt Ryan really badly, and it just felt... too easy? Like it helped that Aaron was genuinely contrite, and that he had that good stepfather talk with Graham, but just... yeah, not sure how I feel about it, honestly.

The Doctor's first words to him being, "You weren't at Grace's funeral. Ryan waited for you, you let him down" were so, so good. Like the Doctor is just going "fuck you I'm his father now". Like tbh I think she was 100% prepared to yeet him off the TARDIS and be done with it. Like damn don't emotionally hurt one of her crew.

Some wonderfully savage lines, though. The Doctor's, "You're almost making up for your parenting deficit!"; Aaron and Ryan's, "Is that how you talk to your dad?" "I don't know, he's not been around"; Graham's fucking smirk when Ryan pointedly calls him 'Gramps'.

I did see a suggestion that would have made it much better - instead of the Dalek capturing Aaron, it captures Ryan. First, it ups the threat in the mind of the Doctor and Team TARDIS - this isn't some dickhead, this is one of them. And instead, it's Aaron who reaches out to Ryan, Aaron who risks his life, Aaron who has to come through for Ryan, instead of the other way around. Also would have tied in beautifully with, "Family isn't about DNA, or a name. It's about what you do, and you haven't done enough."

Also, 'srs tech skillz'. With a Z. Doctor why.

In conclusion, I am going to fight Nigel Farage for killing UNIT.

Spyfall part 1

Current response to Doctor Who: making a near-literal SDKFJHGSDASDKFH sound, grabbing a cushion, nearly throWING THE CUSHION.

More intelligent commentary when my brain comes back online.

Okay. Am calm. Am good! We're good.

MAJOR SPOILERS for Doctor Who: Spyfall, part 1!

So yeah I actually literally screamed (kind of... scream-laugh-holy-shit-yes). Like, even before Dhawan finished speaking the, "Or should I say spy... Master?" line because of the way he had said 'spymaster' in full in the line before and there's nothing that grabs my brain like that one word in that one context. It wasn't quite as mindblowing as the Utopia reveal, since, let's face it, it's only been a season since we last saw that magnificant arsehole, but still.

(Actually, since I didn't watch Twelve's run, the last time I saw them was exactly a decade ago in The End of Time, broadcast New Years Day 2010. And I still fucking cry over, "Get out of the way." So. That may have been why I literally screamed lmao)

I mean. It's the Master. I can't not. They're my favourite jerk. This is probably slightly concerning.

Anyway. Comments!

The good

Episode was just flat-out exciting. It reminded me both of the Three and Ten eras, a bit? Fun gadgets, fancy suits, and what ends up being a giant game! Did start wondering when they were talking about spies and codes and stuff. It's basically a puzzle that's been set up for the Doctor to solve. Plus, the way she was pretty much enlisted into it! Thirteen and Dhawan!Master might end up having a more Pertwee-Delgado-esque dynamic, maybe? I would be down for that!

(My introductory episode to the Master was The Mind of Evil. Let's just put it that way XD)

"I'm her best enemy." <3

I mean, in retrospect, isolated house full of high-tech stuff and a wall full of books about the Doctor... oh honey. Long, looong game of playing Spies and Conspiracies just for, apparently, the sheer funsies of it. Oh, honey. They're such a disaster and I love them.

The reveal scene, Jodie's acting. The way she just... freezes and hunches in on herself. She's been hiding her past more than other Doctors have in the past, and suddenly, here is her past!! Right here!! Laughing and joking and right there in front of her! And she's just like, "Ohhh shit, I was not ready to have this conversation again..."

Yasmin and Ryan's dynamic. I do like that they split up the usual combos of Thirteen-Yasmin and Graham-Ryan for once, because I do like seeing the way they play off each other! It makes them feel more cohesive as a group. I liked Ryan trying to comfort Yasmin after her experience.

Post-reveal, I'm now wondering if the weird zappy forest thing is the Master's TARDIS? Something to do with changing and processing DNA into something else? Something based around neurons, with the electric travelling system? Am also wondering what happened to Yasmin while in there, since she seemed to be processed in some way, and I'm wondering if she had part of her DNA rewritten as well - or maybe if she's been replaced entirely, like she's currently piloting an alien version of her own body while her actual self is still in there. They did already do that with Flesh!Amy, though.

Once this arc is over, I think Thirteen is definitely going to have to sit down and tell the Fam who the hell she actually is. Graham is having some serious questions, and the Master was definitely egging that on, pre-reveal.

How much do I love that even in a tux, the Doctor still has the culottes and boots? A lot, that is how much. Also, how much do I love the Doctor in a suit and on a motorbike? A lot, that is how much.

"I've had an upgrade." <3

Thirteen playing Snap. It's okay, Thirteen, you still win my heart <3

"Worst! Uber! Ever!!"

"Kisses!" Yes, we know ;) They've been texting! Someone write me a WhatsApp chat fic with plenty of subtext and double meaning, I require it. Also, memes. You know it's true. The Master isn't a Time Lord, they're a Meme Lord.

"Everything you think you know is a lie." Season hook? :o

The hmm

Main concern is how they're handling the Master's characterisation? Last we saw, they were so ready to jump the Doctor ship. Now it's back to games. Kind of wondering if that means the Master is just at the point of being resigned that they and the Doctor just don't work and so is going back to games because at least it makes them happy, but I'm happy to wait until next week to see how things play out!

Did see a suggestion that this is the Master from one of the alternate universes (or at least that seems to be the general consensus on why there were multiple maps), so not actually necessarily the same version as Missy. Alternatively, this could actually be a pre-Missy version! Maybe between Simm!Master and Missy, since we never actually see that regeneration?

Actually, if this is the one immediately before Missy and this two-parter ends with the Master regenerating and we actually do get Thirteen and Missy together on screen I may cry.

(Like I'm aro-ace and agender but I'm still so gay for both of them. There is no word other for this emotion other than 'I'm gay'.)

I kind of wish someone had double-checked the name of the company because VOR running the world is. Is. "Right now, VOR is more powerful than most nations." Just. *pinches bridge of nose* Like okay you know how we say 'oh yeah just google it' 'yeah I googled it' are they really gonna say 'yeah I just VO

'I'm going to V

I can't say it. I can't.

Apparently the Australia scenes were filmed in South Africa. Kind of assumed it wasn't really Australia as soon as I saw actually greenery in the background h e h.

Highkey wish I could have seen Missy and Thirteen together. Dhawan!Master is very fun so far but. Missy and Thirteen. See comment above about the Master's characterisation!

...ABC are you really going to keep to Thursday night broadcasts even after the UK switches their Sunday nights / our Monday mornings? Well that's a good way to guarantee I'll be watching them online first! I was happy to wait twelve hours or so so I could watch it with Mum, but like hell I'm going to wait three and a half days!

In conclusion, am dead, send help, is it Monday morning yet?

Spyfall part 2

Thoughts on Doctor Who: Spyfall, part 2!

GALLIFREY LOOOOORE.

Oh man I'm hyped. We got a teeny teaser to the Timeless Child way back last decade but now we may actually get to see what the fuck is going on. And hell, if nothing else, at least the discovery is being teased to be so devastating it did undo Missy's characterisation. If this incarnation of the Master is after her, at least. Still not necessarily anything to suggest that. The Master will likely be recurring over this season, so we'll find out more, at least!

God, the Master is so fucked up. Like. He's seen something apparently so massively traumatic that he had to destroy his own planet and legitimately does look broken by it? Unless he was acting, but I did not get that impression from the message at the end. And the only way he can think of to get the Doctor's attention is to start his old tricks? Not sure if it's better or worse for him to be pre-Missy tbh.

It's just... such an interesting dynamic. Also I really want to read into the whole... scene where the Master asks the Doctor to kneel and call him 'Master' in front of everyone - then, when she does (defiantly! Stubbornly!), he... kneels to be at the same level as her. Like, "I'm going to play these BDSM-esque power games with you but when it comes down to it, I still consider us equal."

Anyway the Master is def a service top.

This comment from Tumblr user upslapmeal:

"'why would it stop? I mean how else would I get your attention’ what did I say about the Master being like a cat knocking things off shelves"

I mean. Yeah.

"Contact." Old school.

The Companions! They get a capital C because they were rad as hell. I love them all deciding that what they do next is: carry on to save the world. Like they're all heroic af without the Doctor and it's so good.

"Don't make me do a soft-shoe shuffle!"

And questioning at the end, oooh man. There are some Implications there, yeah. They've found out some surface information, yes, but no real hint at the deeper trauma. And given what this coming season is hinting at, I strongly suspect we will indeed be getting that deeper trauma and maybe even Dark!Doctor. Gallifrey does tend to bring it out of them...

The whole on-the-run thing seemed to definitely be a callback to Sound of Drums. Uh, what's that going to do long-term? Send out a worldwide message saying, "Sorry, our bad, they're fine"? I mean, last time that happened... okay, Jack was already with Torchwood and so is used to Not Really Existing, but Martha definitely couldn't go back to fuckin' medical school. She ended up at UNIT and then went independent. They did not return to their normal lives.

Barton: needs a goddamn punch. He killed his mother what the fuck. On the plus side, at least he seems to have thoroughly destroyed his career? Be interesting to see if he reappears later, you don't go from the most powerful person on the planet to massive pariah overnight without Repercussions.

On to our guest characters! I hate to brag but I guessed who Ada was as soon as I heard her first name and saw her outfit. I mean the computers theme was already there, who else would she be? :D And I admittedly didn't know who Noor Inayat Khan was except in passing, but still. Little upset about the erased memories (Donna ;_; ), but I can see why the Doctor did it and like... this way, I'm glad they were able to avoid the implications of, "Ada only developed computing because she had already seen the future." Like people said that with Rosa Parks even though the Doctor said explicitly to only ensure there were enough seats filled and the act itself was all Rosa, so they may have wanted to play it safe.

I... really want to comment on how Ada definitely was crushing on the Doctor (and really, who wouldn't?), but she was a real person so I shall avoid those implications. (But really though!)

Doctor how many times have you been in someone's liver. This is some Magic School Bus Inside The Human Body bullshit and I love it.

Doctor's recording: "First of all, you're not gonna die! Second of all, don't talk back to the screens, obviously I'm a recording and I can't hear ya. Third, don't panic. Especially you, Graham."

Graham, panicking: "I'M NOT PANICKING!"

Doctor's recording: "Yes, you were! And I did just say, don't talk back to the screens!"

Graham: "????!?!!"

I want an entire series of the Master having a really infuriating seventy-seven years on Earth. Please.

Comments on continuity issues regarding that, "It's worse than Jodrell Bank!" "Did I ever apologise for that?" "No." "Good." exchange XD;; Like people are going, "Continuity error!! It was the Pharos Project, not Jodrell Bank!!" and like. Pharos was a project. Jodrell Bank is an observatory. You can do projects at observatories. Also, you can refer to projects by location, too. Am I referring to the Canberra Deep Space Communication Project or Tidbinbilla Station? Both! They refer to the same thing! In the Whoniverse, they likely did the Pharos Project at Jodrell Bank, and just had some lighthearted bantz about that time where the Master killed the Doctor, no biggie.

So, onwards to... an apparently unrelated episode for next week! Also, the Kassavin? Still there. Like. The Master only gave suggestions. They still have all those agents everywhere! They're still ready to act! And yeah, now they have the Master in their hands, so... I wonder if they'll make the Timeless Child a long, ongoing arc, and have the much more immediate threat of the Kassavin as the season finale?

Orphan 55

Thoughts on Doctor Who - Orphan 55!

...whew.

First thought: anvilicious, but some anvils need to be dropped, because, uh, have you seen the world lately.

It feels like quite a brittle episode? Even beyond the immediate tension of 'there are large angry creatures trying to kill everyone', there's just this sense of... like, tension. There's the tension between Benni and Vilma, which at first is kind of a sweet tension then becomes a life-threatening and sad tension. There's the tension between Roger Parslow Silas and his dad, with Silas not being taken seriously (although I do think him running out while they're in life-threatening danger is a bit much). The obvious and major tension between Bella and Kane that drives the whole episode, yes.

And there's also the tension amongst Team TARDIS! The episode starts with the Doctor still in Some Kinda Way about last week, and I felt a bit of tension between Yaz and Ryan? She seemed rather unimpressed by Bella, at any rate. I do like how organic the relationship between Ryan and Graham feels, at least. "It ain't the aliens that are gonna kill me, it’s worrying about you!"

Set and costume building, I felt, was kind of... eh? I liked how Tranquility itself looked, but the tunnels looked Very Generic, and some of the looks I felt didn't really work. Silas and his dad's green hair just looked very obviously fake, and I saw a description of Hyph3n-with-a-three looking like a cross between a Jellicle Cat and John Candy in Spaceballs (which... yeah, honestly). And I'm not sure about the Dregs, although I did initially have the thought that whatever the original inhabitants of the planet were, they must have been humanoid was amusingly accurate...

"I just pulled this out of a friend of mine! >:("

"Oh! ...We do not make any judgments on our guests and fully support any way you choose to enjoy yourself here at Tranquility Spa! ^_^;;"

"... ... ...It wasn't recreational! o.O"

God you could feel Hyph3n-with-a-three's embarrassment...

"If I had crayons and half a can of Spam, I could build you from scratch!" Excuse me I am at least Tofurky.

Also a logical issue on the whole journey to find Benni, because frankly, it just wasn't... sensible. Okay, bring a kid. Father of the year right there. Okay, bring an old woman. Granted, she could have insisted because it was her man-friend they were looking for, but surely she would have known she would slow them down? Her 'heroic sacrifice' felt very wasted, because dammit, she could have survived if she had stayed in the Dome where it was at least a bit safer!

"At least three eighths of a plan, right here! ...Two eights. I'll be honest, all I've got is the letter 'P'..."

So the Doctor is almost at the point of passing out from oxygen loss but hang on, let her first indulge her curiosity...

The sheer existence of orphan planets is very depressing. The sheer fact that there's at least fifty-five is very depressing.

There's an interesting comment about how straight after discussion of the reveal, the first shot of the preview is the Statue of Liberty. Very Planet of the Apes! (No apes next time, just Tesla vs Edison!) Also feeling a strong connection to Midnight (stunning resort on dangerous planet with a very personal enemy), and I saw a comment about Thirteen unintentionally The-End-Of-The-World-ing the Fam (and making a connection between 'very angry trees' and the Forests of Cheem). Bit of Ravolox. Bit of... fuck what was it... Curse of Fenric.

Although, we know that the Earth will eventually be consumed by the sun, and it was done in a way that was like... it was its time. This was not its time, was a colossal fuck-up on a planetary scale (and the Doctor continues to be 'eat the rich'), but it's also only one potential future. Which is good, because that got dark. Even more than The End of the World, even more than Utopia, even more than fuckin' Frontios, because this is the near-future. The shots we saw of the destruction were modern day! That was the Dome of the Rock you saw getting bombed!

"Be smarter than what made you." PAGING THE GOVERNMENT...

Going to put it on a solid... maybe 7/10? Some really good elements in there, but also some clunkers, and unfortunately not a patch on the same writer's It Takes You Away, which was one of the strongest of the last season.

Nikola Tesla’s Night of Terror

Thoughts on Doctor Who - Nikola Tesla's Night of Terror!

Opinion before episode: man, Tesla's cool. Opinion after episode: man, Tesla is fuckin' cool! :D That was a well-done personality-based historical, absolutely - I think it's my second-favourite personality-based historical only to Rosa (there are other pseudo-historical based ones set in the past that I love, but they're not personality-based; the Human Nature duology is a good example).

But yeah, Tesla just came across as a really, really cool character. Genius and he knew it, yes, and the real Tesla did have some questionable views (sexism, mostly), but otherwise the archetypal Idealistic Genius who wants to change the world for the better. Contrast with Edison, who was... a businessman. With, like, a really punchable face. Still pretty intelligent, but... very, very punchable. I've read about the Tesla-Edison feud before and always sided with Tesla, and let's face it, so did the writer XD

Good mix of character combinations - with a lot of characters, it's easy for someone to get sidelined, but this managed to handle Thirteen and the Fam, and Tesla, Dorothy, and Edison, pretty well. There were some neat combinations, like Ryan and Dorothy bonding over the sense of adventure, and Graham and Edison's confrontation; I also really loved the whole conversation between Thirteen and Tesla on the joy of just... creating. There's actually a very nice overlap between arts and sciences.

Antagonists - not bad? I feel a lot of people were expecting the Racnoss, and there was such a similarity that I would have liked at least a throwaway line about how the Skithra were related or something. Ooh man she definitely brought out Dark!Doctor, though. Teleporting the queen back to the ship, specifically so she can be fried? I mean, she might have survived it. Might. And just that fantastic little change of expression when the queen asks the Doctor if she's ever seen a dead planet before! Whittaker pulled that one off.

There's a very interesting compare and contrast between the Skithra and Edison, I found. Thirteen has her speech about how once the Skithra are gone, they won't be remembered. Caput. Forgotten. They left nothing behind. Compare and contrast to Edison, who was openly accused of using other people's work, but who's able to learn from his mistakes, end on an even(ish) setting with Tesla, and who does get remembered. Which kind of stings, honestly, if you look at Tesla's actual history.

Like. Apparently that, "The man just didn't understand the American sense of humour," line was an actual historical line, according to Tesla's own records. The absolute main reason for the difference in fame and recognition is that Tesla was a genius who didn't know how to market. Edison was a marketer who could invent a bit. So in conclusion Edison is a dick and Tesla needs more respect, the end.

Favourite lines and scenes:

Tesla: "Is - is this your own design?" Thirteen: "I made it! Mainly out of spoons! :D" Tesla: "You're an inventor! :D" Thirteen: "I have my moments." Tesla: "I knew it! So you... so, you can understand how it feels, you know, when you have an idea, and - and to make it real. I don't think there's any greater thrill!" Thirteen: "I couldn't agree more." Tesla: "You... you spoke of aliens. People here laugh at the very idea." Thirteen: "But not you." Tesla: "Well, apparently I'm not like other people. It can be difficult, you know, to feel no one else sees the world the way you do. It's like you're, uh..." Thirteen: "...out of place."

Graham: "Yeah, still. I bet you'd jump at the chance to have him back working for you, wouldn't ya?" Edison: "Yeah?" Graham: "Yeah!" Edison: "How d'you figure that?" Graham: "'Cause I had a supervisor like you at my old depot. And men like you don't pay a bloke that much attention unless you think there's a payout comin'."

Thirteen: "I wouldn't go killing me and Yaz. 'Cause Yaz... can tell you what this is." Yaz: "It's a camera!" Thirteen: "Bingo!" *FLASH!*

Edison: "I couldn't figure it out either." Tesla: "The internal dimensions transcend the external." Thirteen: *GRIN* Edison: ._.

Thirteen: "You do realise, it's killing Edison that they want you and not him? ;D"

Graham: "Don't worry. This ain't our first rodeo!" Ryan: "We've never been to a rodeo." Graham: "...you're not helping, Ryan..."

Thirteen: "And what are you queen of, exactly? A stolen ship and second-hand guns? A queen of shreds and patches. You're not a ruler, you're a parasite." Queen: "And what are you? So clever, stealing onto my ship, taking what I claim as mine. But where has it got you? No weapons. No armour. No escape. Just the desperate hope you might change my mind." Thirteen: "No, we are way past that. I gave you your chance." Queen: "A chance to be like you?" Thirteen: "A chance to evolve. But you were too stupid to take it. When you die, there'll be nothing left behind - just a trail of blood and other people's brilliance. No one will even know you existed."

(Side note: I love that this speech was actually in front of the companions. They're starting to see that things are Not Okay.)

Thirteen: "Don't give up." Yaz: "Whatever anyone says." Tesla: "Well, let them talk. The present is theirs. I work for the future... and the future is mine."

Favourite incorrect lines:

Thirteen and Tesla, firing at the ship: "VIBE CHECK!"

Fugitive of the Judoon

I'M GONNA... NEED A HOT MOMENT TO PROCESS THAT...

WELL I. UH. OKAY.

lmao I'm serious I don't even know where to begin.

Uh, some very disorganised comments on Doctor Who - Fugitive of the Judoon!

I squealed when I heard Jack's voice then saw him in the flesh. I gasped audibly when 'Ruth' broke the glass. I yelped when we saw the buried TARDIS. I MAY HAVE SCREAMED A LITTLE WHEN 'RUTH' INTRODUCED HERSELF.

(Also can we talk about her outfit. That was on point.)

I'm getting a very... very early vibe? She didn't know what the sonic screwdriver was, and that was introduced with Troughton. Since we saw the Hartnell-Troughton regeneration, she must be pre-Hartnell? Maybe a Doctor whose memories were rewritten to the point that they thought the Hartnell incarnation was the earliest? Not to mention that was a pretty old-school-looking TARDIS!

Alternatively, maybe between Troughton and Pertwee? Either option has some inconsistency - if she's post Troughton, she should have known what the sonic was, although it admittedly did look very different. Plus, her TARDIS is already its police box shape, which was implied to have set in the junkyard. Also, we never actually do see the regeneration between Two and Three, and it could explain why Gallifrey was after her - she escaped after her trial after The War Games!

Definitely early, though.

Alternatively alternatively, Thirteen actually does say 'time is swirling around me'. Maybe an alternate timeline. Something to tie back to the Timeless Child?

"I've lived for thousands of years, so long I've lost count. I've had so many faces. How long have you known me? You don't know me. Not even a little bit."

That wasn't just aimed at the companions. I feel that was aimed at the Doctor themself.

(Related: the response from the fam was flat-out beautiful. Doesn't matter who she was or who she'll be. They know her now, and they love her.)

Just. Wow. Wow.

Really cool note from Twitter - disguised name was Ruth Clayton. Ruth = 'friend, companion'. Clayton = 'of the Earth'. She literally named herself 'friend of the Earth'.

"You're probably a bit confused right now."

I mean. Yeah. Confused and intrigued and what.

"Don't do points! I do points! Points are my thing!"

Jack. Jack. Smooching Graham, hitting on all the companions, getting into Shenanigans! The Lone Cyberman - I wonder if that's a totally different crisis that isn't even related to the current Gallifrey-Timeless Child one? The more important part is Jack's presence - the presence of another time traveller with a... unique relationship with the universe. The actual warning could be a red herring, but Jack showing up anywhere in the first place is a sign that something is happening with time?

Orphan 55 had a timeline that may or may not have been the 'real' one. Being only a potential future kind of doesn't work with what we know of established DW continuity, so I'm liking the 'alternate timeline' theory, maybe?

Ryan: "I liked him. Kind of cheesy."

Yaz: "But good cheesy."

Thirteen, smiling: "That's Jack."

Graham just standing there going, "He kissed me tho? ...Wasn't bad, actually."

"Is she safe?" Jack, honestly, is she ever safe?

"When she needs me... I'll be there." Oh yeah, he's so coming back later this season.

Also, Judoon, chameleon arch, the Master, Jack - getting big season 29 vibes here and that's a big thumbs up for me because that's my favourite season. We just need Martha to make an appearance now!

...hehe honestly, between Jodie's entire existence, and now, in the span of five episodes, introducing Dhawan!Master, Gat, and now Jo Martin as the first black female Doctor, and reintroducing Jack, one of the most overtly and openly queer characters on the series, the 'Doctor Who is too PC!' bunch are going to be so mad XD

"A platoon of Judoon... near the moon." / "Look at you, your platoon of Judoon near the... that lagoon..."

Man. The close-up in the very first shot of the watch. Nice tie-in.

"The Doctor never uses weapons!" "I know! Shut up! >.>"

Where do the Kasaavin come into play? Is this something they've done by integrating themselves throughout time and space? Maybe they're fraying the fabric?

My mind is blown. I can't wait for the rest of this season :D

[Part 2 - Praxeus to The Timeless Children]

#doctor who #companion love #best enemies #long post

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buckysrighthanddoll · 5 years ago

Text

Astraea

Pairing: Peter Parker x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: some angst, mentions of capture and torture, swearing, hella fluff

They made a twisted Nyx out of his beautiful Astraea. She was once sweet and innocent--all-too-pure for this world and far too connected to people’s emotions. And now? Now, she seemed to be the opposite.

Peter looks at his girl, the one who changed so much, and thinks of how she used to be.

Soft cotton dress. Softer skin. Messy, wind-blown hair and sun-kissed skin. She is the picture of sweet to Peter. His fingers reach out, graze her bare shoulder and trail down her arm until he reaches her fingers, and he laces them together. The beach was perfect, yes, but his girl was even better. He notices the freckles that dot her skin, wants to spend hours laying next to her and count each one, memorize every line and scar and freckle and fuck, he’s in love. He’s so in love.

Soft cotton dress. Even softer kiss. Her lips brush his, the lightness making him feel as though he’s on cloud nine. She smiles against him and she lets out a soft giggle while she lays back and lets the sunlight drench her skin like she’s parched and it’s water.

She’s soft, soft, soft. His beautiful Astraea, with the cute sundresses and messy hair and bare-skin. His beautiful goddess. Too pure for this world.

“Don’t look so spooked, Peter,” She says, tilting her head to the side. This is still (Y/N), but he doesn’t seem to recognize what HYDRA has done to her. She wears skin-tight dark denim jeans over a lacey bodysuit, a cropped leather jacket on her shoulders and four-inch heels adorning her feet. Her hair is pin-straight and one side of it is slicked back with gel. She wears dark, sultry makeup. Black liner. Plum lips. She is no longer his Astraea, but now she is Nyx. A goddess still, but one of the night.

“What did they do to you?” He asks, the words spilling before he can think to stop himself. She throws her head back and laughs, but it isn’t the soft and sweet candy-like laugh she used to have. It’s more like a bark, like a wolf about to attack.

Perhaps why that’s why they had started calling her the Midnight Wolf (although he knows damn well that’s not why).

“Oh, baby, trust me. They did me a favor,” She says, her lip curling in a snarl as she brings her head back down. She stalks toward him, one excruciatingly slow step at a time. Heels clack harshly on the asphalt, her hands going to her pockets casually, her chin tilts up slightly so she looks down on him.

Peter hates this. Not knowing what she’s going to do or what she’ll say. He hated not knowing her anymore. His Astraea was gone and replaced by something much different.

“I can practically smell the fear, baby,” She says, reaching out with her right hand and straightening the collar of his shirt. He swallows thickly. He nearly forgot that she was in-tune with emotions. Sensing them, manipulating them, you name it; she can do it. He wonders what else HYDRA taught her. “A little bit of an angry lust in there, too, but that isn’t important.”

“What did they do to you?” He asked, this time with confidence in his voice. Her face, once relaxed and even slightly playful, quickly twisted in anger as she wrapped her hand around his throat.

“They helped me.” A quick-release, and Peter finds his feet on the ground once more. Hands instinctually go to his neck and he looks to her in surprise, but the look she gives him is unreadable.

And as soon as their little meeting had started, it was over. Tony came up behind her and placed a needle in her neck, and she was thrown over his shoulder.

“Good work, kid. Are you okay?”

Peter can only nod as he walks ahead of his father-figure. It was a set-up. Bait. The Avengers knew that if there was any shred of (Y/N) left in there, she would come back to him.

They held (Y/N) captive at the tower. Figuring it was the safest space to keep her, she stayed in the lab--Tony’s orders. She was covered from head to toe, and when others were in the room, she had to wear a blindfold. They weren’t aware, however, that nobody would be safe from her emotional manipulation.

Peter came to see her just over two weeks later. (Y/N) could tell that it was him from the way he walked--small paces, light, rounded steps, a smooth heel-to-toe that meant he was wearing his normal sneakers rather than the boots that Steve would wear.

She looked vulnerable. Blindfold covered eyes that messed up her once-perfectly-styled hair. Her clothes were her’s from her room in the tower, but they didn’t look like they quite belonged. (Y/N) was always soft, soft, soft.

And now she was rough, rough, rough.

“Nice of you to stop by, baby,” She says, a smile pulling at her lips. Peter could almost mistake it for genuine emotion. Almost. “I missed you.”

Peter sits at the seat positioned next to her door, looking through the wall of glass to see his cotton-y soft girlfriend looking tattered and sewn back together.

“Something tells me you don’t,” He responds, his voice having very little confidence.

“Oh, baby, I really did. Just a shame I can’t see you.”

A wave of guilt passes through him, and Peter can’t tell if it’s from him or her. He furrows his eyebrows but stands to look at the look on the door. “FRIDAY, open her door,” Peter orders. (Y/N) smiles and moves to stand up, waiting for her love at the door.

Yeah, that’s all he was. Just Peter. The love of her former life. That’s all he is, that’s all he is, that’s all--

“Mr. Parker, with all due respect, I don’t think--”

“FRIDAY, please, open (Y/N)’s door,” He interjects. “I just need to see her.”

There is a hesitancy in the AI’s actions, but she does it. It glides open smoothly and Peter steps in. He reaches for her blindfold and pushes it up, and for a fleeting moment, his sweet Astraea is back. She looks up at him and smiles, and it actually reaches her eyes, and he feels like whatever Tony did to her had to have worked, because that other woman was gone. Now it was just (Y/N), his sweet and soft girl.

“Baby, I can’t touch you,” She says. And there it was. The subtle glint of manipulation in her eyes that contradicted her entire chocolatey-sweet demeanor. “Don’t you want to hold me?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” He says, looking deep into her eyes as he slowly reaches around to break her bindings. She stands on her tip-toes and gives him a soft kiss, but it isn’t sweet by any means. He knows her intentions in that kiss, and he thinks of every time they had done the things that she was implying.

It’s easy to undo the cloth that held her wrists together. His hands fall to her waist, and she grabs him by the collar to pull him closer. It’s firey hot and he doesn’t need to have her abilities to feel nothing but love and lust for the woman in front of him.

He is wrapped around her finger and he knows that. And, to be fair, it’s reciprocated when she’s her normal self. But right now, all he wants to do is fall to his knees and worship his goddess. He wants to decorate her altar with his lips, his fingers, whatever he can use. He wants to pray to her, have her name spill from his lips, taste the honey name on his tongue.

Astraea. Astraea. Astraea.

She moves her lips to his neck as her hands go to unbutton his shirt. Her body grinds against his and he groans, hands traveling down to her hips and grabbing tightly.

“See, baby? Isn’t this nice?” She finally opens the shirt, so she runs her hands down his stomach.

Peter knows he needs to stop. He knows this is wrong, that she’s just manipulating him to let her free, but he doesn’t know how to stop--doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. She fogs his mind, makes him all dizzy and lightheaded and he suddenly can’t walk anymore. Everything is her.

Nyx. Nyx. Nyx.

There has to be some clarity in this. Some way to see through the fog and get away from this woman who isn’t actually the one he loves. He thinks back to the first time they had even kissed. The one kissing him and making him feel these things.

Her hair was splayed across the pillow, eyes gently shut and worries anywhere but here. A peaceful day with her peaceful boyfriend, and she had begun to fall asleep on him. He looks down at his sweet girl, sees how beautiful she is, and smiles. A thumb far larger than her own swipes at her face slightly, attempting to memorize all there was to memorize.

Feathery soft lips pressed to her cheek. “You are such an angel,” He whispers, soft words disappearing into her soft skin.

“Hm, you should tell me that when you think I’m awake,” She says as he leans back, smiling up at him. Her eyes flutter open as she trails her hand to the back of his neck. He stops in place, breath hitching, eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips, and she pulls him back down to her. His daydreams about this exact moment were only beat by the real deal. She was soft and gentle, but she took what she wanted and he was more than happy to give it to her.

With a stern shove, Peter knocks (Y/N) off of him. “This isn’t you,” He said. He walked out the door, watching as she ran to it as it quickly closed behind him.

“Baby, yes it is,” She whined, watching as Peter buttoned his shirt back up. From the outside, yes, it was most certainly his beautiful Astraea. But he knew better than that.

“Peter, are you okay?” Tony asked as he ran in. “Let’s go,” He adds, seeing that (Y/N) didn’t have her bindings or blindfold on.

She watched with an angry expression as they left, fists balled at her sides.

Of course, Tony asked Peter what had happened. And he told him everything. They both realized that she had gotten much stronger since she was taken last year. A last-minute call was made to T’Challa, and his family had agreed to take her in and try their best to get her back. It wasn’t a Winter Soldier project by any means, but Shuri was a genius and the team hoped she could help.

And she did. It took 24 days and 16 hours to get the call, but once they did, Tony got on a quinjet and went to get her from Wakanda. Peter waited in her bedroom while Bucky, Natasha, Steve, and Bruce sat in the communal area.

She returns quickly with that same honey-like sweetness and finds Peter first.

“Baby?” She asks as the door slides shut behind her. She can feel his anxiety and fear, which nearly overpowers the love that he feels. She pulls her cardigan shut tighter, not quite knowing how to handle this situation. “Are you okay?” She adds as she steps toward him, steps soft and quiet.

“It’s you, right?” Peter asks. When she smiles and nods, he pulls her into him and holds her there. She feels nothing but relief and the same love from before. “You’ve been gone so long.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” She says. She didn’t want to think about it. A year away with HYDRA, five months on the run, and a month in Wakanda. She hadn’t been herself in a very long time, and she was ashamed of it. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, (Y/N),” Peter says, pulling back to cup her face in his hands. She leans into the touch, commits the feeling to memory, embraces the safety that she has when she’s with him. “It was HYDRA. You didn’t have a say in it.” She nods her head and wills away her tears. There was still a lingering fear that they were watching her and that she would be seen as weak. “What do you say we go watch a movie with the rest of the team?”

A soft smile makes its way onto her lips, and he smiles because of it. “That sounds perfect, baby.”

#marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker one shot #peter parker x enhanced!reader #astraea #fluff #angst #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction

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killscreencinema · 5 years ago

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Kingdom Hearts (PS2)

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When Kingdom Hearts was first announced, I was excited to say the least. By this point, I was still a diehard Squaresoft fan (let me emphasize - SquareSOFT, before the dark times... before Square Enix...). I was also a lapsed Disney fan. I used to be obsessed with all things Disney as a child, and even dreamed of some day being an animator for Disney, before I discovered not only how limited my art ability was, but how torturous an existence being an animator is. Ah, to be steeped in the warm nostalgic womb of Disney, before life pulled me out and smacked my ass with adulthood.

Anyway, Kingdom Hearts appealed to me because it was the conglomeration of my childhood fandom with my mature fandom, smooshed together in a way that made every bit of sense, like peanut butter and chocolate. When it released in 2002 (wow, has it really been that long???), it did not disappoint, and I spent countless hours playing and replaying it until I 100% completed it. Oh man, sorry, I’m having ‘Nam flashbacks to the many fits of rage I had while trying to beat the Ice Titan. Screw Sephiroth, the Ice Titan was a real bastard, what with his only vulnerability being knocking his projectiles back at him, taking off lil bits of his health at a time, while he relentlessly pounded you with area attacks or magic that freeze you.

So obviously, I’m very well acquainted with Kingdom Hearts. After playing the second game, though, I dropped off because the spin-off sequels became overwhelming and stupid. I knew something was amiss when I booted up Kingdom Hearts II the first time, and didn’t know what the everloving fuck was happening (while the first game’s plot was more or less pretty straight forward). I’ll dig into Kingdom Hearts II in a later post though.

So when Kingdom Hearts III finally came out, I was ambivalent... but curious. I started to get that ol’ Kingdom Hearts itch. I didn’t want to go into the game completely ignorant of the lore, though. I want to give the game as fair a chance as I could WITHOUT having to play the umpteen games before it. So I got the HD remix for the PS4 and decided to start from the beginning.

I’m glad that I did, too, because replaying Kingdom Hearts was a nice revisit to simpler times. I forgot how well structured the game is and how well realized the Disney/Square amalgamation premise was. The two properties were surprisingly compatible, with Final Fantasy characters seamlessly coexisting alongside the likes of Mickey Mouse, Aladdin, and other iconic Disney characters. Speaking of Mickey, Kingdom Hearts is nothing if noteworthy of one amazing accomplishment - making Mickey Mouse BADASS! Who saw that coming?

The story still holds up - you play as Sora, a kid from the peaceful world of Destiny Isles, who dreams with his friends Riku and Kairi of someday leaving their humdrum existence and going off on an adventure. Naturally, they get more than they bargained for when their home is destroyed by an existential threat known as the Heartless, who have been ravaging worlds left and right. Sora only survives after being mysteriously given a magical weapon called a Keyblade, which is the only thing capable of defeating the Heartless and sealing off worlds from their attacks. Sora wakes up at a refugee world of sorts called Traverse Town, where survivors of the Heartless attack have gathered, and he teams up with Goofy and Donald Duck, both of whom are on their own quest to find King Mickey in order to hopefully beat back the Heartless threat.

As the trio of heroes, you travel from world to world, each one based on some Disney property or another, teaming up with the likes of Aladdin, Jack Skellington, or Ariel from The Little Mermaid to vanquish the Heartless. The gameplay is fast-paced hack n’ slash action, where you can only control Sora, leaving Goofy and Donald to the mercy of a questionable AI (which brings me to my first pro-tip: do not, except under the most extreme circumstances, give Donald or Goofy items because they will burn through them in a single battle or two). Like any other RPG, you eventually upgrade keyblades, buy and equip armor or stat boosting accessories. Kingdom Hearts is a pretty accessible game for even the most RPG illiterate, no doubt because Square suspected the Disneyification would attract younger than normal gamers. However, the game isn’t “baby’s first RPG” either, as it can get pretty difficult pretty quickly for the uninitiated.

Speaking of difficulty, since this was my third play through of the game, I wanted to really make it count, so I played on the hardest difficulty setting - Proud Mode. Phew, let me tell you, it kicked my ass for good long while before I acclimated to it. Even weaker enemies at the beginning of the game can kill you in 2-3 hits if you’re not careful, and with Sora having not yet learned useful combos or the Cure spell yet, this was an extremely trying way to begin a game I hadn’t played in more than 10 years. Eventually, as you level up, get better weapons, and spells the playing field evens up a bit more, but you’re going to need patience if you’re going to try this challenge.

I also decided to “platinum” the game since I was playing on PS4, which meant for this play through on “Proud Mode”, I needed to complete all the side quests (including the secrets bosses and all the Coliseum matches), obtaining all the weapons, completing nearly all the Gummi ship missions, never using a continue, and maxing out Sora at level 99. Then after beating the game, I’d have to play it again, this time on Easy (fuck it, I’ve earned it), and beat it under 15 hours while using only the default weapons and armor. So yeah, I really made it count this time around, and I’m happy to say I succeeded in getting the platinum trophy. For those playing at home, that means I beat all the secret bosses, including Sephiroth and the aforementioned Ice Titan, like total bitches on Hard Mode.

I’m a goddamn Kingdom Hearts Master!

And I had a ball doing it, even when things got frustrating or tedious. The game really holds up and I’m shocked that it be completed in under 15 hours (my speedrun clocked in around 10). So it’s a surprisingly short game as far as RPGs go, if you just stay on the main quest. If you’re a Disney fan and/or an RPG gamer, but haven’t play this game because you’re intimidated by the ridiculous lineup of sequels and spin-offs that it spawned, I say give it a try anyway. It’s one of the best games on the PS2 and probably one of the masterpieces crafted by Square before they dipped in quality.

But all that is about to change..... ohhhhh yess.... (Cue the first iconic notes of the intro cinematic to Final Fantasy VII)

#kingdom hearts #disney #rpg #squaresoft #square enix #sora #riku #goofy #donald duck #mickey mouse #playstation #ps4 #ps2 #sony

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xerxia31 · 6 years ago

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Not Real

All Katniss Everdeen wanted was to see the one who got away one last time...

My contribution to the Fall 2018 edition of More Stories to Save Lives, in support of Hope for Caroline. Rated T. Also cross posted to AO3.

Commander Katniss Everdeen stood in front of Trident Hyperrealism Industries, housed in a glossy candy-coloured glass building that stretched up to the sky, and wondered for the hundredth time what she was doing. This was definitely not her district, not her scene at all. But she’d made a promise, and Katniss always kept her word. Clenching her jaw, she pushed through the doors. Her perfectly polished uniform boots clicked on the slick marble flooring, echoing through the massive, opulent lobby. Vases of tropical blooms perfumed the carefully climate-controlled air, contributing to the feeling of decadence. Everything about the space, the building, the whole damned city, was an affront to Katniss. It was all too shiny, too gaudy, too fake.

Though she was on Earth, her planet, the Capitol was as different from her home in District Twelve as any of the outer rim planets she’d visited in her two plus years in command of the starship Mockingjay had been. Foreign and loud and filled with people who had more in common with exotic birds than with Katniss herself, the Capitol might as well be in the delta quadrant instead of nestled in the Rockies only a fifteen second teleport from home.

Katniss shook her head. She had to stop thinking that way. The Capitol was her home now. District Twelve was no more than a memory. She made her way to the reception desk, gave her name, and was directed to an elevator bank, a charmingly old school feature of an otherwise thoroughly modern building. The four-floor ascent in a mirrored box took longer than transporting to the building from her quarters on the outskirts of the Capitol. It reminded her of - no. She wouldn’t think of that place or that time. Not now. Not yet, anyway. A man of extraordinary beauty stood to greet her as soon as the elevator doors opened. Tall, athletic, with golden skin, bronze-colored hair, his incredible sea-green eyes twinkled as he reached out to shake her hand. He couldn’t be real, she thought. He must be one of the simulations that Trident Industries was famous for. The reason she was there, though she wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone else. “Welcome, Commander,” the man said, his voice deep and rich, flowing like melted chocolate. She couldn’t help but be impressed. The simulations she’d encountered in her years of training at the academy had been jerky, somewhat robotic, obviously fake. This, on the other hand, was incredibly convincing. He reached out to shake Katniss’s hand and she was startled by how solid he felt. As if reading her mind, he chuckled. “Finnick Odair,” he said. “Owner of Trident Hyperrealism Industries, at your service.” “You’re real?” she blurted, years of studying diplomacy forgotten in an instant. But he merely smiled, unaffected, perhaps unsurprised by her question. “I am indeed, and I’m here to make all of your fantasies come true.” It was that comment, delivered in a slightly smarmy way, that broke the spell for Katniss. She couldn’t argue that Finnick wasn't one of the most stunning, sensuous people on the planet. But she could honestly say he wasn’t attractive to her. Maybe he was too pretty. Maybe he was too easy to get, or maybe it was really that he'd just be too easy to lose. Katniss was somewhat of a specialist in losing people. “Mr. Odair,” she said, pulling her hand from his grip. “Your assistant told me you’d be able to design a package to suit my requirements.” “Of course,” he said, gesturing towards a small red loveseat, then settling himself across from her. “Trident Hyperrealism Industries is known across the galaxy for our fully immersive simulations that allow you to visit anywhere in the universe and have the perfect vacation experience. No transport ships, no bad weather, no bad service, nothing but pleasure at any of our four hundred and seventy-six thousand pre-programmed destinations.” He glanced at Katniss’s Star Alliance uniform. “Though perhaps it isn’t travel you’re looking for?” “No,” she admitted. “I’ve been to all of the planets I care to visit and then some.” When Katniss signed up to captain a two-year diplomatic tour, she’d anticipated seeing strange new worlds and meeting fascinating new beings. Instead, she did nothing but work and sleep for twenty-eight long months. Her small crew was hardly sufficient to keep the ship running and she’d pulled double, sometimes triple shifts to ensure that everything got done and that her people were sufficiently rested and taken care of. Every minute of each highly anticipated planetary landing was filled with duty and obligation. Though she’d been to Rigel Seven, she’d never gotten to see its twin moons. On Juno, she’d only glimpsed the legendary Tower of Inysis from the window of a transport. During her last excursion, to tiny Bacchus Minor, she hadn’t even set foot on the ground, her meetings and resupply mission having taken place on a satellite orbiting the pretty jewel-green planet. Adrift in the cosmos, Katniss struggled with the isolation of life on a starship, the exhaustion, the loneliness.There was no glamour, no adventure. And while there was definitely satisfaction in a job well done, it was hollow when she had no one to share it with. Her few hours not occupied with work she had spent alone in her bunk, staring at the ceiling, remembering. Regretting. So after her tour, she’d resigned her commission and accepted a teaching position at the Alliance Academy. She was due to begin work in just two weeks time. And though it would undoubtedly make more sense to be spending her first week back on Earth exploring or setting up her new quarters, she was sitting on a candy-coloured couch in a candy-coloured office, chatting with a candy-sweet man who made her teeth hurt and her skin crawl. “Ah,” Finnick said, and a wide smile showed every perfect, sparkling tooth. “So you are looking for a more personal experience.” “I was told that you could arrange for me to see someone. Or, to see a simulation of someone,” she mumbled, and Finnick nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. We have simulations of a wide variety of the most popular beings from history, all impeccably programmed with perfectly rendered with historically accurate voice and speech patterns, reactions and abilities. You absolutely will not be able to tell that the person you’re speaking with isn’t the real deal, guaranteed! You can spend time with Elvis Presley, Alabaster Harrington or Henry Cavill,” Finnick said, listing several sex symbols of the past two centuries. Katniss frowned. “Or,” he hedged, “Maybe you’re looking for a more intellectual experience? Maybe Stephen Hawking or Albert Einstein is more your speed?” “No,” she said. “I want to see someone contemporary. Someone who is, uh, still alive.” “Of course,” he said. “Caesar Flickerman is a popular choice.” Katniss recoiled. Caesar Flickerman had to be over a hundred years old. He had been performing on entertainment broadcasts for as long as anyone could remember; his appearance - white face paint, blue lips, and brightly dyed wigs - virtually unchanged in all of that time. “I didn’t know he was even still around,” Katniss mumbled, suppressing another shudder. “But no. The person I’d like to see isn’t famous.” “I see,” Finnick smirked. “A custom simulation.” “Yes. Will that be a problem?” “No, no of course not. We are quite capable of fulfilling all of our customers’ special requirements. As long as he has a digital record, I can produce a simulation so perfect, it would convince his mother.” The slick grin was back in place. “How did you know he’s a he?” Katniss asked. “I’ve been doing this a long time, Commander. And I can assure you that all of our simulations are fully functional, solid, firm, and programmed with a full library of skills.” It took Katniss two, perhaps three beats to understand the subtext of Finnick’s words. Fire raced up her throat, painted her cheeks. “Mr. Odair,” she said tightly, “I am in no way looking for some sick sexual fantasy.” “Of course not,” he soothed, but his lecherous expression was unchanged. “But what happens in the simulators is none of my business, so long as your expectations are fulfilled.” Katniss’s attention drifted as Finnick outlined the specifications of the program, the cost, the amount of time she would have in the simulator, and what she could expect in terms of realism. Her mind wandered, as it often did, to the man she had spent two and a half years missing with every fibre of her being, to the things she’d said the last time she’d seen him. To the things she wanted, needed, so desperately to tell him now, even if it was only pretend. “And where would you like this encounter to be?” Finnick asked, the smarmy tone creeping back into his voice, catching her attention again. “Your quarters?” “It doesn’t matter,” she sighed. “Your lobby, the sidewalk out front, the virtual location won’t make any difference.” “Surely you’d like something comfortable and private. A hotel? A Turkludiaan den, perhaps?” He was all but sneering; clearly he’d made up his mind that she was some sort of sexual pervert looking to get busy with a stranger on whom she had a crush. But he was dead wrong. Not about the crush part, but about the rest. She wasn’t looking to screw a make-believe stranger. She wanted to see the love of her life. To tell him she was sorry. “It’s not like that,” she snapped, half-rising, and his eyes widened, hands lifting in supplication. She deflated, sinking back into her seat and dropping her head into her hands. Katniss sighed. Every rational thought screamed at her to simply leave. She’d known all along that this was a bad idea. But after twenty-eight months of what was essentially a self-imposed exile, twenty-eight months of not having taken a single shore leave, a single vacation, even a single day off, she was at a breaking point. And it was obvious to everyone around her. Even her cousin, Gale, had noted Katniss’s sadness during their weekly video chats. She was tired and worn out, and Gale was worried enough that he’d threatened to come home from school on planet Spectra to take care of her. Katniss couldn’t allow that. Gale was settled on Spectra and was a model student, hardworking, brilliant. Allowing her own heartbreak and stupidity to compromise his future was unacceptable.

So when Gale, who was frugal to the point of being cheap, sent her a Trident Industries gift card two days ago, just before she’d disembarked from the Mockingjay and walked away from her life on the starship, Katniss had promised to actually use it. “Take a virtual vacation,” he’d insisted. She’d tried to tell him she was fine, needed nothing, but Gale knew her too well. “Live a little,” he’d begged, silver eyes shining in the video relay. “You deserve this, after everything.”

“I just want to see someone I used to know,” she murmured to Finnick, staring at her shiny boots. “One last time.” “Someone you can’t speak with in person.” It wasn’t a question, not really, and the soft tone caught Katniss off guard. She glanced up. The leering, lecherous salesman was gone. In his place was just Finnick Odair, still incredibly gorgeous, but with a kind, compassionate expression instead of a dazzling smile. It made him seem more human somehow. More real. “Right.” “I can do that. I’ll need to access his public records, to ensure the simulation reacts as closely to how he would really act as possible.” “I don’t know where he is now,” she admitted. “He was a student at the Alliance Academy, up until a few years ago. Last I heard, he was teaching at the Panem School of Fine Arts.” Finnick nodded. “That will help. There should be plenty of biometrics available. What’s his name?” o-o-o Katniss talked herself into and out of showing up at Trident a dozen times, but in the end her frugal nature won out. Fifty-five hundred credits was a terrible amount to waste, even if they weren’t her credits to begin with. She berated herself as she got ready, brushing out her long black hair and agonizing over what to wear. It was a simulation. It wasn’t going to care what she looked like! She could have - should have - shown up wearing anything; her uniform, her old hunting clothes, even pyjamas. And yet she pulled from her closet a dress that she hadn’t worn for more than two years, a pretty orange frock patterned with autumn leaves. It had been his favourite, another lifetime ago. The building was just as garish as it had been her first visit, but this time Finnick Odair wasn’t there to greet her. A beautiful young woman with an ethereal calmness led Katniss down a long white corridor to a set of imposing silver doors. “Everything has been programmed to your specifications,” she said softly. “The simulation is completely self-sustaining, you don’t have to do anything. But if for any reason you need to exit before the completion of the program, the computer will respond to your commands.” Katniss nodded. She’d studied engineering at the academy before being hand picked for the command program. And while this simulator was leagues ahead of the simple holodecks she was accustomed to, she understood the fundamentals. “Thank you,” she said, but remained motionless outside the closed doors long after the young woman had walked away. Finally she shook aside the lethargy and doubt and entered the simulator. And then gasped. Katniss knew this place, knew every bench, every rock, every flower. She’d spent the past two years seeing this place every time she closed her eyes. The gardens on the rooftop of the academy training centre. Out of every possible place in the universe, how had Finnick Odair chosen this? There was no way he could he possibly have guessed how much this place had meant to her. Had meant to them. It was almost enough to send her running back out of the simulator, down the corridor, back to her spartan grey quarters at the academy. Back to her spartan grey life. But Katniss Everdeen was done running. She stepped cautiously forward, barely hearing the soft snick of the simulator doors closing behind her, immersing her completely in the illusion. She wandered the garden paths slowly, reverently, mouth agape. It was incredible, every detail exactly as she remembered it. She reached out to stroke the glossy green leaves of a hanging vine where it twisted around a pergola. It felt exactly like the vines she’d practiced tying into knots during one of her last visits to the real rooftop gardens. Apple trees perfumed the air. Their gnarled branches just like the ones they’d climbed with abandon during their academy years, playing catch with the sweet fruit. Even the wind chimes tinkling above a lush flower garden were exactly as she remembered them, their gentle chords the soundtrack by which a quiet young woman and a kind young man had made love all those years ago. “Katniss?” She turned slowly at the voice she knew better than her own, the voice of her heart. He was standing perhaps a dozen steps away, an old-fashioned wicker picnic basket in hand, the artificial sun filtering through his ashy curls, crowning him in gold. Peeta Mellark. He was smiling softly, the smile that had always made her feel like the most important person in the universe. As if she could have forgotten how gorgeous he was, how strong and broad and solid. He set the basket down and took a few steps towards her, his grin unwavering. She marvelled at how life-like he was, every detail utterly perfect from his golden eyelashes, so long they brushed his cheeks with each blink, all the way down to the double knots that secured his shoes. It was as if she’d been transported back in time, to those days more than two years ago when life had been perfect, when she’d been happy and loved. All of her pent-up longing overflowed, and she let herself just for the moment forget that it wasn’t real, that it wasn’t really Peeta standing before her, and with a little laugh jumped into his arms. He caught her and spun her around, the arms encircling her just as warm and strong as she remembered. A thousand moments surged through her, all the times those arms were her only refuge from the world. Perhaps not fully appreciated then, but so sweet in memory, and now gone forever. As if reading her mind, he pulled her in close and buried his face in her hair. Warmth radiated from the spot where his lips just touched her neck, slowly spreading through the rest of her body, enveloping her in comfort. It felt so good, so impossibly good, that she knew she would not be the first to let go. “Still the most beautiful woman in the galaxy,” he murmured, and Katniss laughed, a pained little sound stained with longing and regret. The real Peeta wouldn’t be so kind, she thought. He’d still be angry, and he should be. She’d hurt him terribly. But when the simulated Peeta pulled back, he was smiling at her as if she were more radiant than the sun. “Peeta,” she started, but he laid a gentle finger across her lips, halting the apologies that yearned to trip from her tongue. “Shhh,” he said. “We have time. Let’s relax first. Have a bite to eat.” Peeta led her down one of the sun-dappled paths to a patch of grass right at the edge of the rooftop. She wrapped her hands around the railing and looked out over the edge, where the sun hit the glossy buildings spread before them, making them twinkle like a vast field of fireflies stretching to the horizon. He moved to stand behind her, his warmth against her back. “I’d almost forgotten how pretty it is up here,” she murmured. His puff of laughter teased the shell of her ear, made her shiver. “That’s my line,” he said, amusement colouring his voice. “And you always insisted that it’s not as pretty as our woods.” He wrapped an arm around her collar bones, pulling her back against his broad chest. She smiled, leaning into him, letting herself truly live in the memory made real. Eventually, he led them away from the railing, to where he’d lain a blanket over the soft artificial grass. When he opened the basket and started to pull out the food it held, she laughed with true delight and his grin widened. Inside was a feast — fresh rolls, goat cheese, apples, reminiscent of all of the picnics they’d shared in these gardens over their years together. “And the pièce de resistance,” he said almost shyly, lifting a tureen that she was certain contained lamb stew on wild rice. The very dish she had always said was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to offer. She sobered. “You have a remarkable memory,” she said haltingly, regret again flaring in her gut. “I remember everything about you,” Peeta said, tucking a loose strand of soft ebony hair behind her ear. “You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention.” “I am now,” she whispered. “Well, I don’t have much competition here,” he chuckled, self-effacing as always. He never had any competition anywhere, she wanted to say. But she didn’t, because it wasn’t true. He’d always been in competition with her drive, her ambition. It’s why she’d lost him. They sat together in the computer-generated sunshine of an unnaturally perfect day. Peeta fed her bites of bread, slathered in goat cheese and topped with apple slices and they reminisced; about their childhood in District Twelve where they knew each other only by sight, about the friendship that bloomed between them when they found themselves the only two children reaped from their district to join the Star Alliance academy, plucked from their impoverished obscurity and dropped into the garish Capitol to train for the elite star force. A friendship that grew so much deeper when only a couple of years into training, a rogue asteroid destroyed their home district in a hail of fire, leaving them both orphaned and alone with only each other to count on. When the food had been consumed, and the remnants tucked away, Katniss took a deep breath. She’d arranged this simulation for a purpose, there were things she needed to say. “I’m sorry,” she said, and his soft smile fell. “No,” he started, but she wouldn’t let him finish. She knew he’d simply absolve her, the simulation was behaving exactly as Peeta had before she’d left him, kind and forgiving and always putting her needs before his own. “It’s not okay, Peeta,” she said, her voice low but steady. “It never was. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. Not without fixing things between us.” She thought back to when she’d been offered the command of her own starship, years ahead of when most young officers were picked to head up missions. It was so unexpected, had flown completely in the face of their plans. They’d always intended on being commissioned together. She would cut her teeth serving under whatever commander headed up Peeta’s first intergalactic diplomatic mission. His talented silver tongue, his ability to paint pictures with words were abilities that made him a star at the academy. They both knew he would ascend the ranks fastest. But he didn’t. She did. And flush with pride, she’d gone to him, excitement about her accomplishment colouring her every word, every thought. He’d been calm, rational, reminding her of their plans, their future. She’d been angry defensive, afraid to listen to anything that could have jeopardized her independence. Unforgivably, she’d accused him of not supporting her dreams. Peeta, who had been her biggest supporter forever. Even as she’d said the words, she’d known they were untrue. But each one flew from her lips like arrows, each hitting her target, piercing him deeply.

The fight had been awful. She’d said so many terrible things, and he’d responded with stony silence. Angry, frustrated, overwhelmed, she’d run. Left him standing on the lawn of the academy stooped in defeat, the waning sun glowing against his dress whites. That image was burned into her retinas, into her heart, and had haunted her for the past two and a half years. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. The anger she’d clung to like a shield only lasted so long, replaced quickly by regret. She’d tried looking him up in the database, but he’d left the academy almost as soon as she’d boarded that damned ship, moved on to a new life that didn’t include her. So she moved on too, threw herself into her work, tried not to think about him, about what he might be doing, who he might be loving. Peeta listened, the slight breeze tossing his curls as he sat on the blanket, their knees just touching, the warmth of his presence giving her the strength to say everything she needed to say. He never once interrupted as she poured out her heart in a way she couldn’t have with the real Peeta, the one who had been so angry he’d blocked her access to his communicator, who probably hated her. This Peeta listened attentively as she told him about her years in space. As she confessed to having thought about him every single day. “I knew I could survive without you,” she said. “But it’s a terrible, lonely life.” “Enough,” he said finally, pulling her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. “I’m to blame too. I shut down, cut you out of my life. If I had stopped being so wounded I would have remembered that our relationship was so much more important than my hurt and jealousy.” Katniss whimpered, burying her face in his shirt, enveloped in his scent. She’d loved him, had always loved him, and yet when she’d walked away that awful day, he’d let her go. When he hadn’t contacted her even once those months before her ship left, she’d simply sealed off her heart. Years of friendship, of passion, of love, were walled up, destroyed, and tossed aside like so much trash. Commander Everdeen needed no one. But she’d been lying to herself. That’s why she was here, on a rooftop, tucked into the embrace of a fake version of the only man she’d ever truly loved instead of virtually touring the lavender sand beaches of Astrazaria. She knew she’d never be able to move on without saying it out loud, without telling at least some version of Peeta she was sorry for all of it, even if he’d never actually hear the words. “Do you forgive me?” she whispered, more for herself than for the illusion of him. His arms tightened. “Yes,” he said. “Can you forgive me?” She nodded against his collar. She’d forgiven the real Peeta’s tiny part in their break up years ago. The sun slid lower in the sky as they clung to each other, soft sighs and gentle caresses speaking of regret, but also contentment. Streaks of pink and gold kissed the horizon, reminding her that their time was almost done. That all too soon, she’d be alone again. The dream, her fantasy, would be over. But she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. She’d told him, and in doing so had freed him from where she’d caged up all of her happy memories. Now maybe she could start to heal. “Ah Kitten,” he murmured, and she froze. Kitten was the pet name Peeta had used when they were intimate, never any other time, and certainly never where anyone else could ever have heard him. How on earth had that gotten into the simulation? It was their secret, something that was only for them. She could feel his soft exhale against her temple. “I miss you so much.” His voice cracked, just a little, and her heart shattered. It was too much, his arms, his voice, his words. It hurt too much. This wasn’t going to help her get over him. “I can’t do this,” she mumbled, tears stinging. She wouldn’t let them fall though, she’d never once cried in front of the real Peeta, not even when she’d left him behind two years ago. She sure as hell wasn’t going to cry in front of this simulation, however real he might feel. His expression when she pulled away and scrambled to her feet nearly gutted her, the confusion, the fear. She turned away, couldn't bear to watch. “Computer,” she barked, listening for the acknowledging beep. Behind her, Peeta gasped. “Katniss?” he rasped. She couldn’t do this anymore, she missed him too much. She was a fool to think that anything could ever heal the Peeta-shaped hole in her heart. This had only made things worse, only made her confront how badly she’d screwed up. How much she still loved him. “End simulation,” she whispered. In the blink of an eye, it all vanished. The rooftop, the gardens, the tinkling wind chimes, all of it disappeared, leaving behind just the bare grey walls. “What the--” a voice from behind her. Katniss whirled. Inexplicably, the simulation of Peeta was still there, staring at her, wide-eyed. “Oh my god,” he whispered. “End simulation!” she yelled, but he didn't so much as flicker. “Shit,” she hissed. What the hell was wrong with this computer? She spun and marched towards the sleek panel on the wall. She'd have to override it herself. Behind her, he kept murmuring her name. And she tried, desperately, to ignore the pleading, disbelieving tone of his voice. He sounded like he had when she'd told him she was leaving. When she had broken both of their hearts. She was trying to manually key in a set of commands when his hands fell on her shoulders, so warm and solid that it made her tremble. This was not supposed to be happening. Finnick promised she could end this at any time. Was it her own desperate need for him holding his avatar there, manifesting him with the force of her desire? “Katniss,” he whispered again, and she felt his warm breath caress her ear. Then he was turning her to face him, and she didn’t resist. Blue eyes roamed her face, as if searching for something crucial. His hands, those hands, so perfectly rendered, long-fingered and elegant, rubbed up and down her arms, shoulders to elbows. Then he smiled, a confused, bewildered little half smile. “You’re real,” he whispered. “Holy shit.” Katniss rolled her eyes, she couldn’t help it. Of course she was real, and this simulation was a little too sentient, it was starting to alarm her. But then he was laughing, he was laughing and pulling her into a tight embrace. “It’s really you,” he choked, laughter mixing with something much more poignant. “I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, Odair,” she mumbled, voice muffled against Peeta’s shoulder. She knew she needed to push away from the simulation, but surrounded by his warmth, by his clean, spicy scent, his big hand cupping the back of her head in that familiar way he always had, she just couldn't. His chest shook as another bout of rich laughter rumbled from his chest. “I thought you were a simulation,” he said once his laughter had calmed. “But it’s really you. You’re really here.” He pulled back enough to see her face, his eyes twinkling with excitement. Her brows furrowed. “You thought…” Katniss trailed off as finally the pieces clicked into place in her mind. “You bought a fantasy from Trident?” Was that possible, that he’d been thinking the same way she had, feeling the same regrets, the same need to set things right, however pretend the setting? Or had Finnick Odair somehow arranged this, convinced him to show up, to pretend to be a simulation? Her head spun.

But Peeta nodded. “I paid 6 000 credits to relive the best day of my life,” he said, and his words made her stomach flutter, a tide of hope rising. “You did too.” It wasn’t a question, exactly, but there was a hopeful lilt to his voice. She shrugged helplessly. “You’re really here.” He cupped her cheek in one huge hand, his thumb stroking her cheek. “I just got back to Earth six days ago,” she whispered “I thought I’d never see you again,” he admitted. “Are you disappointed? That it’s really me?” She squirmed with embarrassment; It had been one thing to bare her soul to an empty room. Knowing it had really been Peeta, her Peeta, was horrifying. She fought with her emotions, elation at seeing him again when she’d thought it would never happen and terror that he hadn’t meant the things he’d said, had only been playing a role. “You were so angry when I left.” “God no,” he said, pulling her against him again, his joy palpable. She didn’t resist in the least, wrapping her arms around his waist, her heart overwhelmed by the knowledge that he was here, flesh and blood and Peeta. He was here and he was holding her, like he once had. Like he did in her dreams. Her smile was so wide, he must have been able to feel it against his shirt, but she didn’t care. “I was hurt, and scared, and more than a little selfish,” he admitted. “But I meant every word I said in here, Kitten. I’ve missed you so much. I wanted to see you again so bad.”

“Me too,” she whispered. His soft lips brushed across her temple and he sighed, a contented little sound that she had missed so much. “How long are you staying?” he asked. “For good.” She tipped her head up to meet his confused gaze. “I’m home. I resigned my command and took a job teaching at the academy.” The joy that split his handsome face was almost heartbreaking in its beauty, before he schooled his features into a more cautious optimism. “What does that mean? For… for us?” There was no ‘us’ as far as Katniss knew. She’d come here to get over Peeta, to finally be able to move on after years stuck in limbo. But she finally realized that was the fantasy, that was the ‘not real’. She could never get over him. And she didn’t want to. “That depends on what you want, I guess.” She had been so busy spilling the contents of her soul that she hadn’t asked him about his own life. For all she knew, he had a wife and a dozen gorgeous blond babies waiting at home. The very idea was a like a spear through her heart. “I want you,” he said, serious and solemn. “I’ve wanted you since we were five years old, back in Twelve. I’ve never stopped. And I never will.” He leaned in to kiss her, to really kiss her, and the tears she’d spent forever holding back trickled down her cheeks.

“I love you,” she murmured, the words maybe too soon and yet also far too late. He picked her up and spun her again, laughing as he kissed his own loving declarations into her skin, every word and every caress a healing balm. “Let’s get out of here,” she said when they broke apart, breathless and flushed. “Are you sure?” He waggled his eyebrows, voice brimming with mirth. “We could relaunch the simulator to one of Finnick’s fantasy programs. How about a Pfflachlin coital suite?” Katniss laughed, really laughed, her joy overflowing. “No,” she said between giggles. “No more fantasies. I want real.”

#everlark #xerxia writes #ms2sl

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doodledust2017 · 6 years ago

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Wow! Someone tagged me??? Thank you so much @quinndecker214! I don't really have any OCs from any games that aren't self inserts why am I like this, so I guess I'll do one from a story I'm working on called The Lepers. I hope that's okay 🥰

If you're reading this and you really want to do this interview thingy, then guess what? I'm tagging you! :D

Mainly because I don't know who to tag

1. What's your name?

"Gabor. Nice to meet you."

2. Do you know why you’re named that?

"Yeah, I was actually given this name when I was, like... yeesh... 19 I think? It means 'God's greatest warrior', which I think is a bit much, but I am a good fighter, I suppose. My given name is Azrael. It means... Well... 'Archangel of death'... yeah I think you can see why I changed it."

3. Single or Taken?

"Ha! Single. Not to many girls into the whole 'cabin in the woods, living off the land' thing."

4. Have any powers or abilities?

"Yooou'rrrre... joking... right?"

5. Stop being a Mary Sue.

"Mary what? *chuckles* Come on, I know my hair's getting long, but that's hardly a reason to call me a girl.

That reminds me, I should stop at the barbers on my next trip into Empyrean."

6. What’s your eye color?

"Brown. Well... My grandma calls 'em russet."

7. How about hair color?

"Black. I like it that way. Helps me blend into the night when... uh... necessary..."

8. Have any family members?

"My parents, I suppose, but I'm honestly not really close with them. My grandma on the other hand, is more of a mother to me than my real one could ever be!"

9. How about any pets?

"No pets. Just my loyal companion, Aala... Ah, did I forget to mention she's a hawk? She helps me hunt rabbits, small birds and things. Some would call her a pet. I would call her a friend."

10. That’s cool, I guess. Now tell me something you dont like.

"I... Well, I suppose I'll be honest... I don't... really like... myself... uh, yeah, sorry, I... I shouldn't have- L-let's just move on."

11. Any hobbies or activities you like to do?

"Oh, that's easy. Hunting with a bow and arrow. Hands down my favorite thing to do. I don't always kill the animal, though. If I already have all the meat I need, sometimes I'll hunt down an animal just to... y'know... watch it, I guess.

Hey! Don't judge!

Watching deer graze is very relaxing!"

12. Ever hurt anyone in any way before?

"Well, yeah, I suppose. I'm not proud of it, but that's part of being... human I guess."

13. Ever killed anyone?

"Ah, that's... that's quite the question. Well, I... I did say I'd be honest a couple questions back, didn't I? Okay, alright, well, I was 18. 18 and... I was so young... It was an accident I didn't mean to, he was going to hurt my dad and... and... and I broke... I broke...

14. What kind of animal are you?

"This is what you choose to ask after that last question!?

S-sorry, I didn't mean to snap.

Alright, I guess you could say I'm a lion. I would do anything to protect my family and I have a strong 'bite', I suppose you could say. I'm also pretty strong willed."

15. What are your worst habits?

"Worst habits, hm? I dunno, it drives my grandma crazy when I leave my bow and arrows lying around in random places."

16. Do you look up to anyone at all?

"Other than my grandma? Elohim. The King of Empyrean. It's incredible how he just spends time with all of his subjects. He knows every one by name, he helps them with their duties, he plays with the children. It's just amazing."

17. Gay, straight, or bisexual?

"Straight."

18. Do you go to school?

"Nah, been there, done that."

19. Ever want to get married and have kids?

"I suppose I'd like to, sure, but realistically I don't think I'd be a very good dad."

20. Have any fangirls/boys?

"Oh, yeah, most definitely, everyone's lining up at the door for my autograph.

You hear that?

Those aren't crickets, that's actually the sound of the paparazzi taking my picture."

21. What are you most afraid of?

"Yeesh, what's up with these random deep questions amidst the fun, goofy ones?

Okay, okay, fine, I'm afraid of myself, happy?

And also crabs, but don't ask why.

Seriously, don't."

22. What do you usually wear?

"This. White shirt, green pants, gray cape, black boots. Earthy colors, you know? Helps me blend in with the environment."

23. What’s one food that tempts you?

"Oh, man, nothing beats a good slice of cornbread that is absolutely doused in honey... my mouths watering just thinking about it!"

24. Am I annoying to you?

"What? No! No, of course not, why would you think that?"

25. Well it’s still not over.

"Good! I enjoy making conversation. Wish it wasn't so focused on me, but that's alright."

26. What class are you?

"Class? Oh, like Level? Well, back home in Malaise I'd be forced to live as a level 3 which is, uh, upper class I guess you'd call it. But here in Empyrean we don't have levels or classes. As long as you got food, family, friends, and a good roof over your head, you're the richest man in the world.

Heh. That was weird, I'm pretty sure my grandma was the one speaking just then."

27. How many friends do you have?

"Oh, I don't know. I guess I just have five close friends. My grandmother, Elohim, Mr. Alden - ah, the butcher, Trista - that pretty young girl I met in Malaise when visiting grandma, and her friend Odysseia. Well, I'd say it's a love-hate relationship with Ode. I lovingly tease her, she unconditonally hates me, it's a great friendship. And of course there's also my best friend, Aala."

28. What are your thoughts on pie?

"Delicious! Kaarina, the baker, makes the best rhubarb pie you'll ever taste in your life!"

29. Favorite drink?

"A nice hot coffee with just a touch of honey to cut down the bitterness a little."

30. Favorite place?

31. Are you interested in anyone?

*blushes* "Me? Interested? Ha, that's, uh, that's ridiculous! I mean, Trista's nice and all, but it's not like she'd ever see me in that way or anything, heheh..."

32. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean?

"Well, I've never swam in the ocean, even though it was right next to Malaise. Wasn't allowed outside the city limits, y'know? And when I did finally sneak out, my priority was making it to Empyrean, so... I guess I prefer swimming in the lake."

33. What’s your type?

"My type? I dunno... kind and honest are the two main things I look for. Not to picky, otherwise."

34. Any fetishes?

"Right, I'm gonna take a pass on this one."

35. Camping or outdoors?

"Aren't they the same thing? Unless by camping you mean those stupid travel trailers. It's not camping unless it's in a tent. Or even just laying on a blanket next to the campfire."

#oc interview #oc #Gabor #The Lepers #quinndecker214 #my story #art #forest #hawk

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cherokeegal1975 · 6 years ago

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Chapter 1 of “Unexpected Cargo” by Meriah Smith

Running A desperate man fled through a desolate landscape east towards the safety of the weathered stones ahead. He hoped he had lost his pursuers for good this time. The day was already beginning to grow hot and he carried no water, no food and no gear to help him to survive for long and he needed to find shelter from the desert sun until nightfall. His dust colored robes and pants billowed back in the rising wind and he worried that a sandstorm might be approaching. It would a blessing if he found shelter in time. Jonathan Taylor Smith, who was sometimes also known as Desert Rat, didn't really know why he was being pursued so determinedly across the Red Sands Desert by King Richard's personal guards. He was just a political nobody that transported cargo and passengers; offered his services in various trades in general labor now and again. He had made himself an excellent reputation for always delivering his cargo to where it needed to go on time. Admittedly, not all of his cargo and business ventures were technically legal, but he never hauled anything immoral like slaves bound for the market (except on the rare occasions when he planned to liberate them), narcotics for pleasure or cargo meant for harm like weapons. Of course his trade might have been the reason why he was now being hunted, Johnny reflected as he tried to run even faster in spite of his exhaustion. They thought he had something they wanted. Just the night before they had captured his sand ship (a kind of multi-functional low flying hover craft that resembled a train) after a long chase along a dirt road that led away from the little trading post he had just left behind at the breakneck speed of nearly two hundred miles per hour. To the observer, his rust colored vessel looked like a boxy and ponderous near derelict, but it was capable of going over terrain that most wheeled vehicles would have difficulty with or found impossible to traverse. His sand ship could travel at greater speeds than one's initial impression would suggest as it sat still or floated slowly, almost silently over the ground. It could turn on a stone, stop dead in a heartbeat and accelerate from zero to one hundred and eighty in sixty seconds flat. It's interior and exterior were spelled to handle the physical stresses of the sudden shifts in speed without damaging itself, its cargo or its passengers. No matter how fast his sand ship sped above the ground, his ship and his cargo never suffered from the additional g-forces. The spells kept gravity at a steady normal, as if it were standing still. Johnny mentally cursed and mourned the loss of his sand ship as he panted through parched lips and his thick leather boots beat the ground with every running step. It had been his home as well has his main source of his livelihood and he was uncertain if he would ever get it back. However, he was not so blinded by the loss of all of his possessions that he couldn't remember to be grateful that he escaped before the guards or Prince Richard decided on the best way to kill him. And he thanked the Goddess of all Creation with every fiber of his being that they didn't catch Goldie and Little Girl. They would have killed Goldie outright and sold Little Girl back into slavery as a gladiator in the worst blood sport events some of the oasis towns had to offer. The very thought of Goldie dead and Little Girl winding up mad and broken of spirit from the abuse of her captors and fighting life and death battles just for entertainment, squeezed his heart with fear and worry. He would die to protect them both. He spared a glance up at the sky and was rewarded once again with the form of a young dragon leading him on towards the safety of the rocks and water just ahead. She carried what little supplies she managed to recover, with Goldie clinging to the base of her neck. This was his dragon that he had rescued from slavery and then adopted as his own daughter. He called her Little Girl because he couldn't think of what else to call her and she refused to respond to any other name. It wasn't her true name, neither he or Little Girl knew it. They hoped to find it together someday, if they survived being hunted. Little Girl would have let him ride her across the skies along with the rest of what she was carrying if she could have, but she was still too small to bear his weight. In her true form she was not much bigger than a Great Dane and she was yet unable to make herself any bigger by shape shifting alone. One day she would grow to the size of an African bull elephant, but she was only about ten years old now, not much more than a baby in dragon terms. She could only lead him on and carry Goldie the female desert rat he had befriended as a boy. He staggered up a long steep grade that led up to the big jagged rocks he was headed for. Just a bit farther...just a bit farther...then they could rest. Even now he could see the cave entrance that didn't look to be more than a mere shallow crack. He knew there was a concealed passage just to the right once he squeezed past the narrow opening. There was good shelter inside and a pool of spring water, its overflow trickled further back into the cave system, so no one from the outside would discover there was water here. Unless they had the assistance of a desert rat, a dragon's unfailing ability to find water even when it was miles away, plus his own working knowledge of the local landscape. His hunters neither had the assistance of his companions nor possessed his intimate knowledge of the desert. No self-respecting dragon would willingly permit herself to be domesticated by anyone and the royal guards hated desert rats. Like most city dwellers, they tended to kill them on sight whenever possible, which was not easy to do. Desert rats were intelligent, opportunistic, highly alert and magically gifted. Anyone trading in grains or other edible food stuffs had a terrible time keeping the tenacious rodents out of their stores. They could bring a trader to ruin in a matter of days without the proper wards to keep them out. Johnny stumbled and fell gasping; another one of those damned cramps had him in its grips again. He didn't know the source of what ailed him, though he suspected magic. The source of that magic might have been the princess that found him eight days before. She was recently widowed when her husband was killed for the throne by his younger brother. She had fled for her life, found Johnny and asked for his help. Warning bells went off in his head, but one look at those big dark eyes tearing up after he initially refused her and he had to relent. Johnny was tough as nails, resourceful and capable of cold practicality when needed. Yet by no means was he heartless; it was both his strength and sometimes his weakness. His good nature got him into trouble more than once in his thirty years of life. The princess was a competent white witch; she had drugged him somehow or cast a sleep spell on him shortly after he agreed to help her. When he had awakened, she gave him the royal seal, asked him to keep it safe for her until she contacted him again and requested its return. He accepted the task along with twenty-five pieces gold as a retainer. Yet he had sensed some other motive and that keeping the royal seal safe was just a cover for the real reason she needed his help. Before he could discover the truth, they had been attacked by Prince Richard's guards. He made his escape at Princess Elena's barked command to go while her own guards fought to protect her. He liked Princes Elena, but he wanted nothing to do with politics. Getting too much attention from royalty meant they might discover the less than legal cargo he sometimes carried. He would honor the contract that he made with the Princess to the best of his ability; he had a reputation to maintain. Besides, Elena could take care of herself. In addition to her personal guards she was powerful in her magics. Johnny had no knack for spells himself, so he could not divine what the princess had done to him while he lay in his enchanted stupor. Nor had he been able to ask any practitioners of magic along his usual trade routes. Since agreeing to help the Princess, every time he stopped for more than a few hours, Prince Richard's guards would find him again. Why Prince Richard wanted that stupid hunk of metal bad enough to kill him for, he didn't know. The cramps started just twelve hours after he had escaped capture from the royal guards. They started as annoying twinges he forgot about as soon as they passed, but the steadily became worse. The cramps would go from a dull pain nothing would fix, to so agonizing that it left him sick and weak until it passed and he could catch his breath. The constant dull pain passed in a couple of days, but the periodic attacks would come and go without warning. After four days of this, he realized couldn't continue business while trying to hide from the guards. So, he stocked up on extra supplies and headed out into the deep desert intending to stay there until things cooled down and Prince Richard lost interest in him. For three days the ruse seemed to work, relatively few people dared to live in the largely unmapped and completely untamed wilderness where water sources were unknown to the city dwellers and royal houses of the Red Sands. Johnny had grown up there and had lived with a nomadic tribe of honorable thieves since he was twelve years old. He knew how to survive in the desert far better than any of the royal guards that were chasing him. Then somehow they located him, after he had passed briefly through a tiny trading post looking for any useful local gossip. They chased him down with their heavy wheeled vehicles after he and his family had fled back into the Dune Lady, driving away as fast as his sand ship could go. He might have gotten away if they didn't have a powerful armor piercing rifle that took out his main engine before he could make it to terrain too rough for them to cross at any great speed. Little Girl had been sitting in the passenger seat in her child form holding Goldie in her lap when the sand ship suddenly dropped out of the air and skidded to a halt in a cloud of dust, nearly tipping over sideways more than once as it came to rest. "Get out!" Johnny had ordered desperately as he leaned over them and shoved open the passenger door. "Take Goldie and fly away from here! Go find the other dragons and stay with them! I will catch up when I can." "Daddy, no!" she cried in protest as she hugged the frightened rat to her bare chest, terrified tears running down her cheeks. Already he could hear the guards approaching through the rapidly dissipating dust cloud. He couldn't fight them all, defend them both and he wasn't fast enough to escape them on foot. He had to get Little Girl to flee. "GO!!!" he shouted at her with a gentle shove toward the open door. "Fly into the sun as fast as you can! Do it now!" With a sob, the brave and beautiful child tumbled out of the passenger door and shifted into her true form with Goldie still in her arms. She did as she was told, flying into the sun as fast as she could. The guards fired their guns at her, blinded by the bright sun they missed their target and she was soon out of sight altogether. They had hauled him out of his broken ship and attempted to subdue him with great difficulty. He knew he couldn't fight them all, but he was determined to kill as many as he could before they killed him. He could at least buy Little Girl and Goldie some more time to get away. He managed to break free of the first guard that grabbed him, killing that one first with his pistol and then several more. They rushed him before he could reload, but he managed to kill three more with his curved short sword. He might have brought down a few more, possibly even escaped in spite of his initial misgivings, if he hadn't come down with another attack of those damned debilitating cramps that caught him by surprise and involuntarily doubled him over in agony. Johnny cursed the princess under his breath, face pressed in the dirt, as they pinned him to the ground and took his sword. They tied his hands behind his back with rough hemp ropes and hobbled his feet then stood him up again. He watched helplessly as they ransacked his sand ship's cargo hold, tore up his and Little Girl's few personal belongings and maliciously blew small holes into his ship's hull with their fire arms after they finished with their reckless search of his ship's interior. They found the seal. He didn't have time to hide the troublesome thing while he was busy running and hiding in the oasis towns that were his usual haunts. They "officially" declared him a thief, a murderer, and a traitor to the crown and he was to await judgment by his Highness King Richard...blah, blah, blah... Johnny didn't care, all he wanted was to escape, with his sand ship if possible and find Little Girl and Goldie. He wasn't loyal to any established government. How could he be a traitor to a kingdom that he was not a citizen of? The sun was setting when he had finally been captured. He soon learned that Prince Richard himself was coming in person to see him. The guards' orders were to remain until he arrived early the next morning. Johnny's heart sank. A personal visit by royalty in the middle of nowhere couldn't be good news. Out here, one could get away with murder and worse without anyone in polite society being any the wiser. The guards didn't feed him or give him any water. They kept his confiscated supplies and their own to themselves. Laughing and gaming with cards or dice, they would sometimes try to torment him by offering him food and water then denying it. After the second time, Johnny just ignored them, laid down and tried to rest as the night cooled uncomfortably. He didn't know how long he lay there, shivering on the still warm sand in the cold air. They had not provided him with a fire to keep warm and his only company was a single guard that watched over him grimly. It was clear to Johnny that he would rather be gaming with the others. Sometime later, he heard his guard say with a nasty chuckle, "Have a drink!" Johnny opened his eyes and then rolled out of the way barely in time to avoid being urinated on. The guards all looked up, laughed at him and cheered his antagonist as he put his private parts back into his loose fitting grey pants. They laughed again when Johnny doubled over in pain as he lay on his side, trying not to cry out as his lower belly cramped up. The mysterious attacks never lasted long, but they left him sweating and sick to his stomach. So far he managed to avoid vomiting; he needed to conserve his body fluids as much as possible. He didn't know how he was going to escape in his current condition, but he was determined to try once the opportunity presented itself. Until then, he let the guards think he was completely subdued. He tried to make himself comfortable on the sand again, trying not to shiver, trying to will his stomach to settle and trying to ignore the increasing ache in his limbs from being tied up for so long. Then to everyone's surprise off to the west, came a sweet singing voice with words no one could quite make out. It was haunting, achingly beautiful and filled with such longing that tears were brought to Johnny's eyes. He knew who it was and prayed that Little Girl would come back to her senses and fly away again. Even a few of the royal guards started to sniffle quietly; it would take a heart of stone not to be moved by the Little Girl's singing. Their leader barked an order for some of his underlings to go find the singer and bring her to him. While everyone was distracted by Little Girl, there was a soft almost inaudible scuffling coming up from behind him, then a tugging sensation at his wrists. Johnny smiled, he didn't know whether to praise or reprimand Little Girl and Goldie for coming up with this plan. He feared that they may be all killed before he got the chance to either. Goldie continued to gnaw as fast as she could through the tough ropes at his wrists from inside of his left sleeve so the guards wouldn't spot her. It was a good thing that Johnny's sleeves were so loose fitting because Goldie was the size of a small domestic cat. In about thirty seconds his rat's teeth made short work of the rough hemp rope and then she scrambled silently to chew through the rope binding his feet while hiding inside his loose pants leg. By now, all the guards were straining to see who the singer was through the darkness of the moonless night. Little Girl kept eluding the guards hunting her as she kept singing, no easy feat, even for a dragon. Johnny resisted the urge to sit up and stretch his limbs and instead remained unmoving with his hands still behind his back. He planned to wait until the last second to make a run for it. He looked up carefully at the guard standing next to him, he was staring fixedly to the west, head slightly cocked and listening intently. Goldie cut his ankles free and hurried back to his hands, pressing her furry back into his palms. To his surprise, a small sheathed hunting knife was strapped to her back by a leather cord. He grasped the hilt with his right hand and Goldie backed up to free the blade from its sheathe. Suddenly she leapt up onto Johnny's shoulder and then launched herself at his guard's black bearded face. She went for his eyes, viciously tearing at them with her sharp rat teeth before the man managed to dislodge his attacker. Johnny was on him a second after the guard had roughly dislodged the rat from his face with a startled cry of pain and revulsion. In one practiced move slit his throat to keep him from calling for help or try to stop Johnny from escaping. His limbs aching and stiff, Johnny none the less managed to flee with as much speed as his long legs would carry him, a blood stained Goldie following close behind at his heels. Fortunately, none of the blood was hers; she had managed to escape injury when the guard had thrown her. It only took a few seconds for his captors to realize what happened and they were after him with shouts and ringing explosions of gunfire. Little Girl circled silently as an owl above Johnny just out of range of the firelight, so she was nearly invisible in the darkness. Whenever a guard got to close to her father she spat fire balls at them with deadly accuracy and neatly evaded being shot by their fellows, flying quickly away from the area she had launched her fireballs; making herself an unpredictable and elusive target. She hated to use her fire on living things, but she would not allow the men to hurt her father. Johnny ignored the screams as they burned and he fled deeper and deeper into the desert. He stayed in the scant scrub and rocky places where the guard's vehicles couldn't go as easily as he and his companions did. The guards knew that so they continued to chase him on foot, but they couldn't keep up for long. For all of their special training, compared to him, they were soft and a little out of shape. They couldn't run in the desert all night with barely a pause. Johnny however could, because he had great stamina built up from many years of hard work in harsh conditions. And he had two other boons in his favor that they didn't have, he had a dragon and a high steep cliff looming ahead of him. At just inches above six feet tall, Johnny knew that his lean frame was too much weight for Little Girl to carry any distance; however she was strong enough to slow his fall. "We got him men!" shouted their leader from some distance behind as they tracked him with their electric torches. They saw the cliff too and assumed that he would stop once he got the edge. "Goldie?" he panted as he pointed to the cliff's edge. "Okay go," she squeaked as she guessed his plan. "Meet you below." Then she was gone, vanished into thin air. Trusting that Little Girl would see what he was up to and in total confidence in her, he ran even faster, almost heedless of his footing as he fled towards the cliff. "HEY! He's going to jump!" Someone shouted. ZZZZZING! A bullet was fired at his shoulder with the intent of slowing him down, but missed in a flash of greenish light he saw out of the corner of his eye. Little Girl hit the marksman in the chest with a fireball and he fell screaming and rolling in the dirt, trying to put it out. Too busy running for his life to contemplate the significance of what he had just seen in that green flash of light, Johnny filed it away in his mind for later and kept moving. "He's warded!" another guard shouted. "SHIT!" BANG-BANG! "Where is that fire coming from?" "Watch out!" "Hurry up! Don't let the prisoner get away!" The shouts of the guards barely registered in Johnny's mind. Just then he reached the edge of the cliff, heart leaping even higher into his throat than he knew possible, he gathered himself up and jumped as hard as he could before he lost his nerve. Little Girl screaming in horrified protest as he fell with his arms spread wide, she dove after him, catching him in a matter of milliseconds after his leap of faith. Johnny got a vague impression of a small dark mass falling past him as she caught him. She had been carrying something and had dropped it to be rid of the extra weight. Smooth scaled forelegs wrapped around his upper torso just under his arms, her hot breath gusting in desperate pants just above his head, Little Girl's feathered wings beat frantically to slow his decent to the rocky ground below. Johnny did his best to help her by trying not to move too much and cause his weight to shift around. He also tried to not act as terrified as he felt. If he panicked so would she, possibly causing her to make a fatal mistake. Thanks to the moonless sky, he couldn't see anything beyond Little Girl's beating wings. Below, it was almost pitch black at the base of the cliff and he couldn't see how fast they were descending. Fortunately Little Girl's eyes would have no trouble seeing in the dark; she could see well enough for both of them. Little Girl made high distressed whistling noises every exhale as she strained to save her father's life. Her wings beat harder as she redoubled her efforts to slow them down and he could literally feel her frantically slamming heartbeat between his shoulder blades where her chest was pressed firmly up against him. The controlled fall and the rush of wind seemed to take forever and Johnny began to worry they might not make it. Then he could just make out the starlit ground a few yards below his hanging feet. It was coming up fast, almost too fast. He gritted his teeth and braced for impact and he resisted the urge to tell Little Girl to slow down; he knew she was doing her best. "OOOFF!" he said as the wind was knocked out of him as he finally hit the ground and tumbled sideways. He nearly slammed into a thorn bush when she was forced to drop him a couple of feet off the ground to avoid crash landing on top of him and injuring them both with the impact. Fortunately the satchel Little Girl had dropped had landed in front of the bush and it served to stop his roll before he wound up in a rather prickly situation. He sat up panting and looked around to see if Little Girl was alright. She was fine...and she was seriously pissed off. She had landed a few feet away to his left with her eagle wings and elongated triangular head drooping tiredly. Tongue lolling, her mouth hung agape as she panted hard to catch her breath, causing her flanks to heave with every inhale and exhale. Her furiously glaring yellow gold eyes flashed dimly in the starlight as they fixed on him when she lifted her head. They were wet with tears that had been blown back during their decent. Her tail lashed back and forth like an angry cat. Her jaws still hanging open as she breathed in great steaming gusts of the cold night air, she bared her fangs and emitted a short growl. "Sorry Sweetie," Johnny apologized with complete sincerity as he tried to catch his own breath. "I'll make it up to you, alright?" Little Girl barked angrily, hopped on her forelegs, landing stiffly with a soft thump and kicking up small puffs of dust with impact of her front feet. Before she could make any further comment, her attention was suddenly diverted by a sound Johnny didn't catch at first. The shadowy form of her head had whipped to the right and upward, then she snarled viciously. Then he heard it as Goldie finally came out of hiding and curled up in his lap. Engine noise from some of the trucks as the guards started them. He knew there was a way to drive down from up there and it would be only a matter of time before they found it. He turned to Little Girl and asked, "Can you fly?" Little Girl lifted her wings experimentally and then chuffed an affirmative. "Good." Johnny grabbed the satchel with its unknown contents. Untying the sheathe from Goldie's back, he replaced the knife he had somehow managed to hang on to, placed both in the sack and gently tossed it to Little Girl. She caught it deftly in her forepaws as Johnny stood up with Goldie in his arms and placed her on Little Girl's withers. Goldie clung tightly to the dragon's feather mane with all four feet, readying herself for takeoff. Little Girl launched herself up into the air with Johnny running along behind her. They went like this all night, stopping only briefly to catch their breaths. Luckily, Johnny's attacks were not frequent and he managed to recover quickly enough not to slow them down too much.

(This book can be purchased as a paperback book or as a Kindle on Amazon)

#Fantasy #dragon #mpreg #hetrosexualmpreg #literature

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