#✧･ﾟ: * wobbling on stepping stones - progress. *:･ﾟ✧

[beansprean]

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oh my god they're engaged to be engaged...

(also this is entirely separate from the izzyguana series fyi, but my god I have drawn their little island so many times by now)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of Stede and Ed's ramshackle house on a hill of long grass, a forested mountain sliding into the sea behind them as the sun peeks above the waves, painting them orange and yellow. Some work has been put into the house since they found it: the holes in the roof have been boarded over or covered with tarp, a rickety porch railing and staircase off the left side have been built on from scraps, oil lamps have been hung on each corner, and an addition on the right side is in progress, rocks stacked on the wood-slat roof and tarps hanging from unfinished walls. Planks of wood, tools, and fishing poles are leaned up against the porch, the path to the house has been cleared out and defined by stones and shells, and a wooden sign out front has the words "Best Little Inn By The Sea! +fishing equipment" carved into it. Stede and Ed, wearing a teal blouse with brown leather trousers and purple tee with black leather trousers respectively, are standing on the porch and looking out over the land, arms around each others waist. Stede raises his arm in a wave and shouts, "Great to see you two! Come again any time!" In the foreground, Pete and Lucius are walking down the path away from the house, looking tired. Pete has one arm around Lucius's shoulders and his eyes are closed, head listing to the side. Lucius covers his mouth as he yawns, lifting the other to throw a halfhearted wave over his shoulder. 1b. Waist-up in profile of Stede and Ed on the porch, sunrise behind them. Closest to the viewer, Stede stares out after their guests, hand lowering, smile fading to something a little bittersweet. Ed leans into Stede, free hand in his pants pocket, and rests his head in the crook of his neck as he follows Stede's gaze with a thoughtful smile. Ed asks, "You ever think about that for us?" 1c. Repeat. Stede's hand drops further, wrist dangling, as he turns his face toward Ed with a bewildered smile. "What?" Ed straightens from his cuddle, embarrassed, but keeps his right hand on Stede's waist. His left gestures randomly as he scrunches up his face, avoiding Stede's gaze. He explains, "Y'know...the matie-monie thing, whatever."

2a. Zoom out slightly; Stede takes a step back toward the house to face Ed as he pivots with his back toward the yard. They are still connected waist-to-hand. Stede plants his free hand on his hip with a smug little smirk and says, "Well I certainly hope that's not your proposal." Ed waves his free hand in a 'stop' motion, flustered as he meets his partner's eyes, and splutters "Wha- no! No, mate, I just... 'M having a dialogue." 2b. Repeat, zoom in. Ed dips his chin to look up at Stede through his lashes, red-faced and accepting defeat as he mumbles, "...How would you want it to go, though? Hypothetically." Stede giggles helplessly, free hand leaving his hip to rest fingertips on Ed's chest. 2c. Repeat, the background cutting out in favor of the sunrise occurring between them. They are almost forehead-to forehead, both of Stede's hands now pressed to Ed's chest and idly playing with the tips of his hair. Ed stares at his face with hooded eyes. Stede smiles, gaze lowered to focus on his hands, and says "Oh, I don't know. A bit of romance, you know. Dazzle." 2d. Repeat, zoom in to bust, background now mottled oranges and yellows. Ed raises his head to look past Stede with a frown, brow furrowed in confusion as he repeats blankly, "Dazzle." Stede hums idly to himself, concentrating on petting Ed's chest. 2e. Repeat. Stede lifts his head with a little smile, putting them nose-to-nose and adds, "I wouldn't say no to some fireworks." Ed flusters at the pointed reminder of their first time, cheeks turning red and a wobbly smile creeping across his face.

3a. Repeat. Stede asks, "What about you?" Ed leans back from their embrace, smile turning incredulous as he repeats, "Me?!" 3b. Waist up of Ed as he turns, sunrise at his back, to lean his left arm against the porch railing. He glances over the yard with a resigned little frown, fiddling with a piece of his hair with his right hand. He replies, "I dunno. Never really thought about it." 3c. Chest up of Stede as he mirrors Ed's pose with a fond if slightly amused smile, stairs and forest behind him. Offscreen, Ed continues, "Bet you had a whole scrapbook of ideas, eh?" 3d. Repeat. Stede straightens with a "Well!" and turns his body to face the house. 3e. Knees-up from the house POV as both men lean against the porch railing, the yard, ocean, and brightening sky beginning to streak itself with orange beyond. Stede is facing the viewer, back to the yard, leaning with his elbows braced on the railing. He aims his gaze to the side with a bit of a pained smile and says, "When Mary and I were engaged, a scrapbook wouldn't have been much use." Ed is turned toward Stede, left elbow propped on the railing. He scowls and sticks out his tongue at mention of Mary. 3f. Repeat. Stede turns his head toward Ed, who quickly tucks his petty tongue back in his mouth and schools his expression into one of interest. Stede continues, "Everything had been decided for us already. Never really got to the proposal part."

4a. Repeat. Ed turns his body more fully toward Stede, folding his arms on the railing and leaning his head over them with a warm smile. Stede raises his eyebrows in surprise and goes slightly pink as Ed says, "I'll have to make it really good, then." 4b. Stede turns his body toward Ed, left arm sliding against the railing behind him and right hand cupping Ed's chin as he leans closer, nose to nose. Ed's eyes hood, looking at Stede's mouth as is curls into a loving smile. Stede responds, "Can't wait." 4c. Repeat. Ed suddenly goes pale and blurts out, "You'll say yes, though, right?" Stede freezes in surprise, lips puckered in preparation of a kiss. 4d. Repeat. Stede throws his head back in a loud bark of laughter, straightening up and turning fully toward Ed to cup his cheek in his right hand and his shoulder with the other. Ed aims an embarrassed, besotted smile at him as Stede replies, "Ed, of course! Who could say no to you?"

5a. Repeat, both now in profile. The orange and yellow light of the sunrise is slowly spreading across the sky from the left. Ed straightens up from his lean to bring their foreheads together, still a bit red-cheeked and with a nervous edge to his smile as he lowers his gaze. He says, "You can say no if you want, though." Stede smiles at him with every ounce of tenderness he has, hands firm on his cheek and shoulder. He replies, "There's nothing I want more than to say yes to you, Ed. Permanent ink, remember?" 5b. Repeat. Stede moves his right hand from Ed's cheek to hook around his back, tugging him closer as he leans himself back. Ed stumbles forward with a helpless grin, cheeks even redder, bracing himself with his right hand on Stede's chest. When their eyes meet, Stede's smile turns teasing and faux-sinister, continuing, "You're stuck with me regardless. Foreverrr~" 5c. Repeat, larger and brighter, as Stede and Ed finally come together in an affirming kiss, the land behind them retreating to allow the sea and sky to fill the background. The sun finally breaches the horizon, sending glitter sparkling across the waves and gilding the pair in warm golden light. Ed's right hand is cupping the side of Stede's neck, thumb tracing through his sideburns, and Stede's right is hooked fully around his shoulders, cushioned in his soft hair. They are both smiling into the kiss, unhurried and in harmony.

6a. Repeat as they pull back from the kiss just far enough to meet each other's gaze, arms still around each other, Ed's right hand brushing Stede's cheek and Stede's buried in the back of Ed's hair. Ed smirks flirtatiously, eyes hooded, and says, "You know... I hear there's a traditional engagement sex sabbatical, too." Stede matches his expression, left hand sliding down Ed's shoulder to press against his lower back. Stede replies playfully, "Oh, is there? I suppose I can plan that part, then." 6b. Repeat. Ed brings his left hand up to mirror his right, cupping both of Stede's cheeks, and arches up on his toes to lean over Stede with a teasing grin. His movement forces Stede to arch his back in the first motions of a dip, hands briefly flying free of their grip on his future fiance to try to catch his balance. Their lips a centimeter apart, Ed hums, "Mmm, gimme a rehearsal, first." Stede tosses his head back with a giggle in response, eyes closed, cheeks pink. Hearts float above their heads. 6c. Shot at the bottom of the hill Stede and Ed are stationed on, the packed-dirt path to the house curving upward in the background, the stones and shells now more conservatively scattered. Amidst the tall grass and tropical plants lining the way are handmade wooden signs shaped like arrows pointing the way to the inn. Words carved into them say "this way!" and "best inn!" Pete and Lucius are in the foreground, walking down the hill towards the viewer, Pete's right arm still looped around his husband's shoulders. They still look very tired with dark circles beneath their eyes - Pete still hasn't opened his. Lucius has, barely, and is scowling his way forward with a furrowed brow, declaring, "We are leaving them the worst review." Pete nods solemnly. Text nearby points to them and says 'kept up all night by noises'. Pink hearts and exclamation points spill out behind them from the bend in the path, echoing the lovey-dovey noises from above that must have made their stay so insufferable. /end ID

[tourturestarradio]

𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Pairing: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji (more added later) x Mermaid reader!

Prompt: After your family jewels were stolen you were determined to get them back joining you closest friend Monkey D. Luffy on his adventure to become the king of the pirates.

Warnings: none, this follows the live action!!

Part 1

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

⋆｡°✩ ┊         ┊       ┊   ┊    ┊        ┊               ┊         ┊       ┊   ┊   ˚★⋆｡˚  ⋆ ┊         ┊       ┊   ⋆                                                                                                         ┊         ┊       ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆      ┊ .  ˚            ˚★

𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 my brothers I swam around to find the secret room, my father was as usual out doing important man stuff whatever that was...I got to the door placing my hand on it, I wondered how my dad even got that purple glow. I focused hard onto the door, squeezing my eyes shut "work dang it!"

I focused as hard as I could a light blue glow formed around my hands causing the heavy door to seemingly unlocked, smiling widely I stared at hands "it worked!" I pushed open the door and saw a line of necklaces.

Mines being all the way at the end, I swam up to it looking at all our different necklace designs.

They all had the same gem stone they were just different colors. I ran my fingers across my necklace picking it up carefully.

I swam out of the room closing the door behind me, I quickly swam out of the house and up to the surface to where me and Luffy would hang out on the docks.

I slid the necklace on, I didn't feel any different whatsoever. I looked down at my tail and saw well, my tail. Not a single leg in sight, I rubbed the necklace "hm maybe it isn't magi-" I saw a light green spark "huh?" the water started to swirl around me light green sparks zapping around my tail.

I started to grow dizzy as the water spun me around, but oddly enough I felt my tail start to separate into two my flipper shrinking in size and my scales disappearing. I squeezed my eyes shut as the bubbles flared up into my face, I looked down as the bubbles stopped.

And I saw...legs! actual human legs!! I climbed onto the docks, I tried to stand up but my legs wobbled and I fell down "aha! I have legs!" I still had my fins but they were smaller and the webbing in between my fingers was gone and my normal (f/c) skin looked blotchy some patches of skin were a (s/c) while others were (f/c). My father had told me about it but I had time remembering what it was called.

It was similar to what humans experienced called vitiligo. 

I looked back down to my legs wiggling my toes, I tried standing up again, I stood up straight my legs wobbling "o-ok making progress..." I took a step forward and fell flat on my face "ow..."

"Oi, you need help...uh walking?" I looked up and saw one of shanks crew mates, had brown skin and a blonde afro, I nodded "aren't you Luffy's little pirate queen?" he asked, could feel my fins warm up "u-um yes" he tilts his head, he pulled me up to my feet holding the back of my dress.

Wait I had clothes? I had a swimsuit that looked like a dress, I held the back of the males pants stumbling trying to walk "right foot....then left foot...right foot then...left foot..." I mumbled, I wobbled with every step but hey! At least I was walking!

As we walked I saw so many different people! Big, small, short, tall, pretty, ugly, it was very exciting!

"Oi Luffy guess what fish grew legs!" I heard the taller male exclaim, I peeked from behind his leg I saw Luffy sitting down looking sad a few stitches under his eye. He tilted his head but his eyes lit up as he saw me standing I waved to him. He jumped down from his seat and ran over to me tackling me down into a hug.

"You have legs!" he smiles widely, I smiled back nodding "they're hard to use though..." Luffy held my hands "here i'll help you!" we both began walking I followed his walking pattern.

He had a cheeky grin on his face "see it's not so hard is it?" we walked around the small bar a green haired woman looking down at the two of us with a smile.

Letting go of me he exclaimed "hey wait look what I can do!" Lifting his arm the woman cut in "Luffy no." he frowned and dropped his arm. I rubbed his back "well m-maybe you could show me around?"

Luffy brightened up tremendously "yeah! come on let's go!" he tried to run off but I wasn't used to moving too quickly and toppled over on top of him "s-sorry!" my fins glowed as I stumbled off of him. He sat up his cheeks dusted light pink, but he still got up and held my hand helping me walk.

Eventually he let go of my hand "you should try it on your own!" I gulped "b-but what if I fall!"  "come on Y/n just try it!" I shakily let go of his hand steadying myself I muttered "right foot first...then left foot...right foot...left foot"

Luffy smiled "see you're doing it!" I continued to walk around "I think I got it!" Luffy hugged me tightly "yay! I knew you could do it!" I hugged back tightly.

They two's friendship grew as strong as a rip current, nothing could truly pull the two apart. Over time the mermaid would sneak back to the surface to hang out with her only friend.

Then she suddenly just disappeared for a few months, Luffy waited for her everyday, for hours but she just didn't show up which wasn't like her at all.

He thought she just decided not to return.

Suddenly she was back, saying she had to take care of a few things for a while. Oddly enough she wouldn't return home, she'd swim around for a while but then she'd just come back up on shore.

Whenever Luffy asked about it she'd get upset and change the topic so Luffy just didn't talk about it anymore.

Growing up Luffy's brown skin got lighter but he still had a tan, his hair stayed curly, but he grew taller.

But not taller than Y/n, she grew to about 5'10 pretty tall but all that height was from her tail, the longer your tail the taller you'd be if you had legs, so it's safe to say she wasn't done growing.

Y/n looked mostly the same apart from her hair growing longer, but she grew to be a real beauty. Most people were either looking at her face or her thighs.

Another fun fact about being a mermaid, it made your thighs thicker for some weird reason. Y/n was a tad bit embarrassed about it but Luffy had utterly zero problems with it.

He quote "love how squishy they are, and they are great to lay on" but she must keep a watchful eye out. On more than one occasion he bit her thighs because they reminded him of marshmallows.

The only thing Y/n hated about being on land was the fact that she had to wear clothes! In all the time she spent as a mermaid she only ever had to wear a bathing suit top, that's it!

Apart from that she didn't need to worry about pants or skirts or shorts! But she hated the feeling of any fabric rubbing up against her legs specifically her fins that were located on the sides of her calves.

Y/n would wear short skirts, or shorts, shirts weren't really a problem for a while until, her gills stretched out a bit on her neck so anything rubbing up on that made her uncomfortable.

So she wore tank tops or tube tops, no long sleeves because once again her fins got in the way.

.

Speaking of the two somewhere far off in the east blue a boy with pink hair and round glasses cleaned the lower deck of a ship mildly annoyed when he heard a thumping noise and muffled voices.

"W-Wait don't move I think I can kick out the lid.."

He followed the voices to a barrel that was shaking around.

"Your legs are in the way"

"u-um Luffy can y-you move your hand"

"why? i'm only touching your thighs?"

"N-No you're n-not"

"hey look your fins are glowing!"

The pink haired boy cocked his head to the side slowly stepping closer to the now glowing barrel.

"o-ok watch your head I'm gonna kick the lid"

Just as the voice said, a hard thumping noise and suddenly the lid slammed off the top, he heard more shuffling and a head popped out, it was a boy with a straw hat.

The pink haired boy shouted and stumbled away, Luffy got out of the barrel, while Y/n pulled herself out, but not without knocking over the barrel causing her to fall over.

Crawling out Y/n dusted herself off fixing her necklace. She tried to stand at her full height but she smacked her head on the roof of the lower deck. "O-ow..." following the sound of Luffy's voice she saw him talking to a pink haired boy, he stared at her.

She smiled and waved at him, he loosely waved back. They both stopped when they heard low snoring "wait is that a sea beast?" he snickered, the boy shook his head "no it's just Alvida snoring. if you both want to get out of here it's now or never" the two followed the boy.

Peeking their head out from the lower deck Y/n, Luffy, and the boy made their way up top Y/n staying close to Luffy.

She glanced around them seeing the sleeping crew mates, the pink haired boy handed Luffy an oar as he was about to send both them off but Luffy turned "Y/n do you need-" he stopped when he accidentally smack the oar into the side of a pole causing it to ring out loudly.

Y/n panicked as the crew started to wake up, while Luffy didn't look fazed at all.

"What's going on?"

Walking up a woman most likely the captain looked at the three, her gaze stopping on the pink haired boy. "Koby what's this? you're betraying me now?" Koby stammered "n-no captain Alvida...let me explain-"

She looked over at Luffy "you're too short and scrawny to be Roronao Zoro." he smirked at her "I'm Monkey D. Luffy," she placed her white hat on "never heard of you." "well, remember that name because i'm gonna be king of the pirates."

Both her and her crew laughed, Y/n glared lightly at the woman. "You must be new around here boy. because who's the most powerful pirate on the seas?" she looked around hearing her crew mates yell out "Captain Alvida!" she looked at Koby who stood silently.

She raised a brow "I'm sorry I didn't hear you Koby? who's the most powerful pirate on the seas?" Koby gulped nervously Y/n gently pulled Koby behind her "h-he doesn't have to answer you." Y/n wanted to punch herself in the face for stuttering. Alvida looked her up and down.

Clicking her tongue she asked "who're you?" Luffy smiled over to his close friend, "I'm Y/n Angelfish and I'm gonna be Queen of the sea!" Alvida looked somewhat interested "Angelfish huh?...so there is still one of you left." Luffy looked mildly confused, but he spoke "Koby is his own man, right?" he looked at Koby "shut up,"

Alvida spoke again "no, no, no he's not. He's mine and he'll always be mine." Luffy chuckled and raised the oar up "that's not what he told me. he said you were mean, and cruel, and you're as dumb as a sea cow" poor boy was shaking like a leaf.

Alvida was fuming now she swung the spiked club at the three, they ducked down causing her to hit the side of a wooden banister.

She swung the club back around making the people around her back up seeing as she almost hit them. One of her crew mates pulled out a gun and shot Luffy but he only puffed his chest out and the bullet popped right on out.

Shocking everyone but Y/n.

"Woah that was fun."

Alvida looked confused "what kind of monster are you?" she asked swinging at him once again only for him to stretch his torso and evade her attack.

He smirked at her "the stretchy kind."

He reached his arm back stretching an abnormally long "Gum gum!" her swung his arm forward "Pistol!" punching Alvida right off the boat.

Y/n looked over the edge of the boat, "uh is she gonna be ok?" Luffy only shrugged and walked away muttering something about needing food for a few days. Y/n was going to follow him but suddenly got light headed, she gripped the side of the boat "u-uh Luffy..." he turned around.

Seeing how she wobbled he came to her side quickly "you forgot how to walk again?" he joked, Y/n let out a small dry chuckle "water..." she mumbled, Luffy nodded and helped her sit on the side of the boat while Koby watched in confusion.

That confusion changed to shock as he watched Luffy push the girl overboard. He ran over leaning over the edge "w-what did you do?!" Luffy kept his smile "don't worry she'll be okay. Trust me, now come on let go get some food."

Koby looked over the edge, he could have sworn he saw a faint green glow but it quickly disappeared. Luffy dragged him away "come on"

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆☆ ★ ✮

A/n: hope you enjoyed!

[lav-bee]

Dr. Stone x Reader

You Flinch Because of Them

Character/s: Tsukasa, Hyoga

Warnings?: Flinching 🤷‍♀️ not anything that should be triggering, more of a hurt comfort type fic 👍

‼️Also, spoilers for season 3 in Hyogas part‼️

💛- read as platonic

Tsukasa

- It’s known that Tsukasa is a very nice and charismatic guy. And honestly, ya, he is.

- But you have to admit he’s still a bit intimidating to be near him. The man can kill wild animals with his bare hands, that’s crazy!

- Because of this knowledge, you try to keep your distance. You would never want to accidentally get on his bad side.

- Of course Tsukasa noticed this but he couldn’t understand why you avoided him.

- He knew you didn’t hate him. Why else would you be nice whenever you two would have a small chat?

- There was tension between you guys and he didn’t like that. So he thought the best way to solve this is to have a private conversation…. In the forest… no one to see. Ah yes, this totally isn’t freaking you out at all!

- Not only were you already tense from him bringing you out here alone but a wild animal showed up and attacked.

- It wasn’t a big deal, Tsukasa dealt with it easily.

- After the sudden scare, he turned toward you and lifted a hand to give you a head pat. He paused, seeing you suddenly flinching away, and everything made sense.

- “Oh, I see.”

- His hand dropped to his side and he took a step back to give you space.

- There’s not much that he can change about himself to make you feel at ease, he knows this. But he still tries to be more mindful, slower, when you’re around.

- “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do, I don’t want to let my appearance stop us from knowing each other.”

Hyoga

- Finally, the fight with Ibara has ended. And the Kingdom of Science had found an ally with the villain Hyoga.

- It was a wobbly alliance, but you had to admit it turned out just fine

- Even though Hyoga fought for most likely selfish reasons, there was still a spark of admiration for the man

- Before, during the Stone Wars you couldn’t help but be amazed when he held his spear. He just looked so cool!

- And of course this made you want to learn too.

- Asking to be trained by him was nerve wracking and you weren’t sure if he’d accept. But surprisingly, he agreed. Anyone is welcome to learn as long as they train correctly.

- And now here you both are, alone in the training room. The others had taken a break but you wanted to push yourself just a bit more; you were finally making progress.

- Hyogas ways of training definitely weren’t for the weak hearted. You’ll have many bruises and blisters by the time the day’s over.

- Suddenly, your balance was swept from beneath your feet and you landed on the hard floor boards with a thud

- Hyoga moved his spear and for a moment you thought he would hit or stab you with it. A random reminder of how cruel he once was

- Your arm quickly went to block your face for… nothing?

- “That won’t do. How do you expect to fight against your opponent if you freeze up?”

- When you let your arm down, Hyoga had his hand out for you to take.

- “I won’t ask why, but it’s best we take a break.”

- And that’s not an option, he will make you take a break.

- He won’t bring it up, and he won’t treat you any different. More so keeps it in mind to try not to let it happen again.

[imagine-darksiders]

What about Bowser and a preggo Y/N?

And why not? :)

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

The frantic sound of bare feet slapping unevenly against cold, unforgiving stone echoes down the hallway, ricocheting off vast, stone walls and filling the oppressive space with the proof of your desperate escape.

Lungs heaving like a set of billows, you try your utmost to focus on throwing one foot out after the other, clutching an arm around your swollen belly in some futile attempt not to jostle the tiny life growing inside it as you lurch down the corridor, wincing with every step that pounds against the unforgiving stone beneath you.

Somewhere far behind you, from deep in the bowels of the fortress, a thunderous roar erupts into the air, chasing you through the doors that you've left swinging in your wake.

“Well-!” you puff down to your stomach, skidding around a corner and lumbering towards another set of enormous, stone doors, “He had to wake up eventually.”

It's always dark in the Dark Lands, but the lack of activity in the twisting hallways clues you in to the fact that night must have settled its oppressive weight over the fortress, driving the koopas into their barracks to sleep. You'd only dared to make this escape attempt hours after their ruler laid his mighty head down and filled his chambers with the deep, rolling melody of snores.

If anything, you're lucky to have made it this far, to have put as much distance between you and your captor as you already have. Any extra progress you happen to make is a delightful bonus.

It's been six months since you fell pregnant, and only two months since you fell into Bowser's clutches. Two gruelling months of trying to hide the growing bump beneath your dress's garlands. Two months of escape attempts, all in an effort to get your unborn child to safety.

So long as you're still here, in the fortress of a tyrant, the baby is at risk.

Every day since Bowser discovered he'd kidnapped a pregnant human, your future offspring seems less of a blessing, and more of a ticking time bomb sitting in your womb.

They're leverage. They could be used to control you.

Worse still, they could be hurt.

At the back of your mind, a tiny voice reasons that your assumptions are, so far, utterly baseless.

Much as it stings your pride to admit, you've yet to come under any fire from Bowser, or his troops. You're only too aware that a Koopa of his stature and power could have done far, far worse than keeping you here under lock and key, although that in itself you consider an unforgivable crime.

In actual fact, if you were questioned under extreme duress, you'd have to concede that he's been infuriatingly accommodating.

Even more-so after he finally used his brain and realised that you weren't diving into the bathroom to throw up because he'd accidentally over-salted the food he brought you.

If you thought he was overbearing in the first few months of your imprisonment, you were rather unpleasantly surprised to discover that he could get a whole Hell of a lot worse...

Another roar shakes through the corridor, powerful enough to nearly send you toppling off your wobbly feet.

There are plenty of aspects about Bowser you find troubling.

His unchecked jealousy, for one. The possessive rigidity of his hand when it's wrapped around your wrist. How he stubbornly deafens himself to reason and rationality if it doesn't align with his interests.

But there's one trait of his – one terrible, frightening quirk in his biology – that turns your blood to ice inside your veins.

It's that very same 'trait' that's chasing you through the endless hallways right now.

You know you only have yourself to blame for drawing him out.

The giant.

You can picture it now – Bowser, laying in his chambers, curling his tail up to feel the open air around it where once a warm body had been occupying the space. He must have woken to find you missing from his side and promptly lost what little self-control he's already barely in possession of.

You can feel it in the way his fortress quivers around all you now, as if afraid of its own king.

You once thought Bowser was already indomitable enough.

Then you saw what he can become, what he's capable of turning into with enough rage and power feeding into his temper.

You've only seen it happen once, and ever since, you've hoped with everything in you that you wouldn't have to see it again.

Yet judging from the way the ground trembles and the distant 'boom,' 'boom,' 'boom,' of gargantuan footfalls begins to draw closer, you fear you're about to be reacquainted with the very worst aspect of the self-proclaimed King.

Swollen and sore, your feet hum with a heat that stings at their soles, but still you push forwards, gasping for air that wheezes too thinly down your throat.

You won't let him take back to that room.

To that... that detestable nest.

Not least because you can't bear the humiliation of being fawned over and coddled for another, mortifying moment. At least before your pregnancy was discovered, you'd been allowed the illusion of privacy.

You were given your own bed chambers, you could sleep without the weight of the King pressing in around you like a slumbering mountain. You had time to yourself, albeit a few hours, where you could be free from Bowser's boundless attention.

Then, of course, you were found out.

Within less than a moment, what little 'freedom' you were so graciously handed was swiftly snatched back.

Much to your chagrin, you were removed from your chambers and moved straight into the King's.

Instead of simply watching you eat your meals with that daft, adoring grin stretching his muzzle, he started trying to feed you directly. The silver spoon always looked so ridiculous clutched inside his meaty paw. His big, bottom lip would stick out childishly each and every time you snatched the spoon away from him and reminded him sternly that you're only pregnant. You're not bed-ridden.

A sudden agony swells in your stomach and ripples outwards along each of your limbs, slowing you to a gasping stagger, as if your tiny passenger has finally decided to take umbrage with your lumbering motions.

Before you can gather your wits, you've opened your mouth to release a strangled cry, nearly falling to your knees as you grasp feverishly at your belly, eyes bulging in their sockets.

So much for only pregnant....

“Ah! Shit!” you hiss, stumbling sideways until your shoulder collides painfully with the solid, stone wall, “Gah! Not now, kid.”

Raking a hand through sweat-soaked hair, you grind your teeth together and suck a hissing breath between them, glancing at the path ahead of you through eyes bleary with tears. Another towering, stone doorway stands in front of you, large and tempting. You have no idea where it leads – this wing of the castle looks much the same as all the others that Bowser has tried to show off to you – but right now, forwards is vastly preferable to backwards.

You have to press on, even though your ligaments feel as though they're being wrung out, even though there's an invisible knife twisting into your side and causing you to cringe away from nothing, you have to press on.

Escape could be just behind those doors. Today could finally be the day you slip between Bowser's grasping fingers and reclaim your freedom. You might see Captain Skip again. She's loyal, oftentimes to a fault. Surely, surely she's still waiting for you on the docks, hatching a daring rescue attempt, knowing her. It's been one of the most troubling prospects that's been on your mind daily since you were first brought here. To see Skip storm Bowser's fortress with her crew, only to be cut down by the vastly superior numbers of troops heaving behind the walls.

You sailed across vast oceans with Skip and those sailors for months. They're good people with families and loved ones waiting for them back home in your kingdom. You'd do anything to spare them the fate that awaits them here, even if it means invoking the wrath of Bowser's colossal counterpart by trying to rescue yourself.

Setting your jaw with a firm click of teeth, you suck down a long, noisy breath and shove yourself upright off the wall, tottering forwards on your bare feet until you reach the door and slap both hands around the silver handles.

Shoulders braced, you move to throw the doors open, itching to get to the other side-

'WHAM!'

There isn't enough self-restraint in the galaxy that could have kept the startled yelp from bursting out of your lungs. It's only half a second later that you cram a hand over your mouth, as if to stuff the sound back down into your chest.

A swell of scorching, hot air surges into the corridor behind you, reaching you in a terrifying matter of moments and rolling up the nape of your neck.

Blind terror seizes your mobility away from you and turns your feet to lead.

You're still facing the doorway just in front of you, stiff-necked and bug-eyed with one hand clenched like a vice around the handle.

In the reflection, a huge, distorted shape raises its fiery head.

Eyes of fire blaze hot within the cool, silver surface.

There's something inherently paralysing in realising you've been spotted in a game of cat and mouse. The tendency to freeze overwhelms you for a few, crucial seconds where you hold perfectly still, bound by some misguided hope that if you don't make a single movement, the predator behind you won't be enticed to pounce.

You don't remember how to turn and glance over your shoulder.

You know what you'll find if you look.

You can tell by the crashing bellow that rattles your brain in its skull that you're out of luck. There are no more barriers between you and your pursuer.

You'd moved too slowly...

The walls around you begin to tremble in a fast, unsteady rhythm, and the ground shudders under your feet, and still it feels as though someone has turned a key in your spine and locked your limbs up tight.

It's only when the shadow of two, pointed horns fall upon you and rise up the door that you finally burst back to life.

Kicking off the lead weights attached to your ankles, you tug at the doors with all your might. But stone is heavy. Heavier than you recall it being.

The doors scrape open an inch, and all of a sudden, they're struck from above with the force of a siege machine as something huge smashes into them, wrenching the handles from your grasp and scaring a strangled yelp out of you.

An all-too familiar burst of moist air breathes down on top of your head, billowing at the collar of your night dress. The moisture from his maw mingles horribly with the sweat that trickles down the nape of your neck.

Swallowing thickly, you crank your neck back, shoulders hunched, until your eyes land upon the underside of a mammoth wrist, bedecked with a silver-spiked cuff that glints menacingly when its points catch the meagre firelight.

Attached to the wrist is a mountainous hand sporting its own set of spikes. These however, occur naturally, in the form of terrible, foot-long claws that perch at the end of each monstrous fingers.

The palm is taller than you are, and sits flat against the stone doors, sealing them shut so firmly that nothing short of an explosion could ever hope to shift them.

God... You can hear his almighty chest heaving raggedly overhead, immense lungs straining to pull in enough air just to refill them with the oxygen he'd expelled hunting you down.

It's him.

Bowser, but not quite. A King who has temporarily sacrificed what little brain he possesses to give himself a massive boost in brawn.

Despite the inherent need to see the rest of the titan bearing down upon you, you lower your gaze to the stone at your feet with a shaky gulp and keep your belly pressed to the door, curling around it with a fierce if futile determination to put yourself between the baby and any supposed danger.

As if a few, scant inches of flesh could stop the King from getting to them if he really wanted to.

Regardless of your noble effort, a second paw – equally as enormous as the first - presses urgently in around you. Claws almost as long as your forearm slip around the front of your night dress, and with a hesitant care that you don't notice in the ensuing fright, you're carefully eased away from the doors.

You immediately have something to say about it. Predominantly, “No!”

It hurts you to twist and wriggle, but you do your best to try and slip free of Bowser's fingers as they curl around your legs and torso, leaving your arms and fists free to beat uselessly at the hard, yellow scales on his knuckles. “Put me down!” you spit in an attempt to sound authoritative, dismayed that the crack in your tone belies the effort.

As if in direct defiance of your demand, the monstrous King instead lifts you up, twisting his wrist around slowly until, at last, that massive, protruding maw rises into view, swallowing up the world around you with its inescapable vastness.

Slitted nostrils flare open and closed at a frantic pace, pulling and pushing at the sweat-dampened hair sticking to your forehead. Without skipping a beat, the colossus leans his snout in close, bringing you towards the sharp fangs that are too large for his maw to contain.

Your eyes flash down to them as your pulse starts to thrash, pounding at the walls of your skin as if your heart itself is trying to abandon ship.

Bowser has never hurt you...

Yet...

It's that 'yet' that flashes through your mind as you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for whatever punishment the King has in mind.

Surely he's reached the end of his fuse. Surely you've pushed him over the edge and he's at last going to do something so terrible, so painful, all of your misgivings about him will be justified.

So it comes as a shock, when, rather than fire or jaws, you feel the soft press of a snout against your cheek.

You'd open your mouth to gasp if it wasn't also being smothered by Bowser's thick, rubbery lips as he begins to snuffle gently at your face, checking you over for injuries...

Secured in his surrounding grasp, you toss your head from left to right, trying to escape the hot breaths that are puffed out across your head. All for nought, of course. The gigantic snout follows your thrashing and gives your mouth a last, hearty sniff before suddenly, it starts to move south, skirting over your dress until it comes to hover just inches from your belly.

Gradually, like the bars of a cage being pried open, his fingers uncurl from around you and he tips his hand back so that you're left laying prone in the cup of his palm, your feet just barely dangling over the edge.

All at once, you freeze in place, your eyes growing wide and round with alarm.

No... Not them... They don't deserve to be punished because of what you did... You'll take his retribution on any other part of your body, if he'll just leave your stomach alone.

“Please,” you whisper, wetting your lips and swallowing the acrid taste that builds on your tongue at the abhorrence of begging for the creature's mercy, “Please, it's not their fault I ran... Don't... don't hurt them... Leave them alone.”

The King gives you a look, then, his blood-red eyes flicking up from your belly to squint at you, brows of flaming orange drawing into a tight, indignant line across his forehead.

Bowser doesn't talk when he's like this. His vocal chords have been twisted and stretched out of shape, but he doesn't need the ability to speak to convey his message quite clearly through expression alone.

He's offended. That you'd... what? Assume that your kidnapper might be angry enough to make you face retribution for your actions?

Hell, the baby's own father had smacked you dizzy for the mere crime of expressing a desire to keep the poor child. How can Bowser think it's such a stretch for you to expect similar from the Koopa who took you captive?

Like a mountain pressing in all around you, the titanic turtle closes the distance between your belly and his nose. For a second, the alarm of having a jaw so large approach the baby growing inside you is enough to make you raise your hands as if you could stop him.

And then, with a care that doesn't at all befit his size, Bowser slowly lets his eyes slip shut and presses the very tip of his snout against your swollen stomach, the barest pressure, the lightest touch, warm and soft and entirely careful, as if he's aware of his size and knows the damage he could inadvertently cause with the tiniest effort.

“What... are you doing?” Bewildered, you can only gape up at him as you blink away the stinging behind your eyelids, brows twisted up in disbelief.

This behaviour is... a far cry from what you'd been expecting after he caught up to you.

Ever so gradually, the King's chest stops rising and falling like a maddened bull, his bristling mane flattens down slightly and his shoulders slump in apparent relief.

After a long, silent minute spent in apprehensive silence, the Koopa peels his eyes open once more and draws his snout away from your stomach, tipping it up towards your face instead.

Heavy-lidded, his smouldering gaze holds yours for some time whilst you busy yourself trying to catch your breath, hating how much your body is already relishing the rest.

Regarding you from beneath softly drooping eyelids, the King's dark pupils expand like apertures. A rumble works its way up from the bottom of his throat, more of an exhale than a growl, though the deepness of it still sends quakes through the hand you're laying in, sending tingles all the way up your spine.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the Koopa abruptly raises his head.

“Ah!” you exclaim as the world around you rocks, though it soon occurs to you that he's only turning himself around, a motion so mundane to him, but for you, standing a fraction of his height, even the most casual movement is dialled up to eleven.

Throwing out an arm, you reflexively grab onto one of his scaly knuckles, though he's quick to curl each finger securely over you once more, tucking you securely against his chest as he plods down the corridor, rattling the overhead chandeliers with every, thunderous step he takes.

It isn't long before the giant Koopa is shouldering his way through the doors to his bed chambers again, which have since become less of a chamber and more of a nest.

The silly sod must have gathered every pillow and blanket available in the castle and plopped them all down in an ever-growing pile at the centre of the room.

The worrier in you can't help but wonder if his koopa troops have been left with enough for themselves.

The King's bed, meanwhile, has been shoved to one side of the room, apparently no longer serving as an adequate resting place. You can barely see a solitary inch of floor beneath the mass of cushions and soft beddings.

This is where you've been holed up for the last month or so...

You can't rightly say you know how long it's been, you stopped counting the days after a while...

Your leaden heart sinks down to the soles of your feet at the sight of the colourful mess welcoming you back once more.

“Home sweet home,” you grumble under your breath.

Issuing a heavy grunt, Bowser drops like a lead weight onto one forearm, watching carefully as he lowers you down into the centre of the cushions and blankets, sliding you from his palm with a wordless croon of contentment.

“You're impossible,” you complain wearily, throwing a sharp glare at the King as he pulls back and settles onto his hands, a pleased smile stretching his maw, “Just how long are you going to keep me in this stupid den?”

Predictably, Bowser ignores your grousing and instead lowers his snout to nose at some of the pillows, those that have escaped from the greater mass, nudging them back towards the centre, towards you.

Rolling your eyes, you lay a hand over your belly and sink back into the nest, feeling the mountain of cushions shift and dip under Bowser's weight as he snuffles around the pile, ensuring everything has been placed back in its correct position before he finally pulls away, sitting back on his bulky haunches and giving the nest a last once-over, bobbing his head in a decisive nod that bounces his mane like fire in the wind.

Lifting his gaze to you once more, he chuffs at you, something firm and strict, drawing his thick, bushy brows into a frown.

The message is clear.

'Stay.'

“Like I'd be able to get anywhere now, even if I wanted to,” you mutter bitterly, wincing at a pulse of pain that rocks across the balls of your feet.

For a moment, Bower's furrowed brow eases apart and he casts a look at your face. You know he must see the weariness settled there, judging by the gentle croon he emits in your direction, bulbous shoulders slumping despondently.

Several times, he casts glances between you and the door, enough that you furrow your brow, tilting your head to one side and wondering why he isn't trying to lay down on the nest himself to resume your previous arrangement, the one you'd had before making a break for it.

At last, with a final groan in your direction, Bowser heaves himself about and hurries from the room as best as his cumbersome legs will allow, his spikes scraping chunks from the door's stony frame as he leaves.

At once, you perk up, staring agog at the open entrance.

Your heart nearly leaps in anticipation, astounded that the possessive koopa has just presented you with yet another chance to escape so soon after he's plopped you back inside his nest.

Thumping footfalls trail swiftly away from the room, but never quite disappear entirely.

You're torn, anxious. Your feet hurt something fierce.

“It can't be that easy...” you murmur aloud.

… Can it?

Despite your body's feverous protest, you grit your teeth and start to drag yourself laboriously across the cushions, inch by tantalising inch, never once taking your eyes off the door.

Sadly, you've only just managed to scoot yourself a few yards closer to the edge by the time you feel those pulse-jumping footfalls approaching the room again.

Heaving a defeated sigh, you slump into the blankets around you, your heart sinking like lead in water as Bowser comes thudding back into his chambers. This time, however, when he pokes his enormous head through the doors, you're taken aback by the sight of a very sleepy Junior dangling by the tail from his father's gentle maw.

“Oh, come now,” you cluck before you can catch your tongue, “You didn't need to wake the poor boy. He's had a busy day.”

Bowser merely huffs while the koopaling in question rubs at his eyes with a pudgy, little fist as his father slowly bends down and deposits him into the bed of pillows at your side.

“You tried to run again, didn't you?” he yawns, wriggling around on his belly until his head is pointed in your direction, blinking lazily up at you.

Grumbling under your breath, you retort, “And nothing to show for it but aching feet...”

“Maybe you outght'a stop runnin' then,” he suggests, and had it been anyone else, you might not have been able to bite back a sharp reply. As it is, Junior... Well. He's not a bad kid. You wouldn't be stuck here in his father's fortress if it weren't for him, of course, but you can't bear grudges against children, especially not those who are the product of their upbringing. You can't imagine Bowser has ever taught him that kidnapping is inherently wrong, after all. It took you many, many years to shake the 'lessons' your own father had tried to instil in you. By that time, you were older and wiser than Junior is now.

In time, he'll learn... You hope.

Before you can offer up a protest, the youngster grabs a fistful of your silk skirts and tugs himself towards you, dropping his round, yellow chin in your lap with a huff.

The bitter expression on your face contrasts the gentle hand you lay upon Junior's head, idly rubbing at the scales between his stubby horns.

“Still,” you add, softer, “At least I got some exercise at last, hmm?”

A soft whuff of air ruffles against your leg, all the response Junior provides before he promptly buries his face into your dress and devolves into an exhausted, clingy lump of koopa.

“Tired?” you hum.

There's a long pause before he huffs out a muffled reply. “No.”

Bowser must have plucked him out of a very good sleep. And, you suppose, it is the middle of the night... You'd have to be heartless to try and remove the boy now...

An almighty presence rumbles at your back, and the bed of pillows shifts as Bowser lowers himself onto his belly, curling his neck and head around to your right whilst his tail coils to your left, enclosing you in a semicircle of living, breathing scales.

Like the flip of a switch, the softer expression you reserve for his son hardens to something stern and unamused as you toss a withering glare up at the giant.

He's peering back at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and to your dismay, his nose is scooting closer and closer over the pillows, pausing every few seconds as if you'll conveniently forget to notice what he's up to. With Junior still settled in your lap, you can't rightly move away.

“Well,” you sigh, blinking over the expanse of the King's snout to meet his gaze, “I suppose you must be very pleased with yourself.”

As is typical when he's like this, the Koopa doesn't reply with words.

Instead, he softly bridges the gap between you both by pressing his doughy nose into your side, forcing you to raise your arm to grant him better access lest it become trapped against your body. Appeased, Bowser lets out a contented rumble, rustling the cushions and blankets underneath you.

Pulling a face, you mutter, “You're lucky your son is here to stop me from moving.”

You can't be certain, but you think you hear the quietest snicker emerge from the koopaling in your lap.

Then again, it could have been nothing but a snore...

[cherryrainn]

Could you do a Pan and a sibling!reader where the reader is the youngest child of Pan and Gohan (adopted or not) and they have fun at the park?

yes! thank you <3 ive been wanting to write dragon ball for a while now

☽ ༚  ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰  ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ 

— swings and smiles

pan x sibling! reader (platonic)

sunlight poured through the window, gently illuminating your room as a soft breeze whispered through the curtains. the sound of birds chirping reached your ears, signaling the arrival of a new day filled with possibilities. but it was pan's excited voice that truly awakened you.

"y/n! wake up, wake up!" pan's joyful voice echoed through the hallway, filling your room with an infectious energy. you couldn't help but smile as you sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"what's going on, pan?" you asked, your voice laced with curiosity.

"we're going to the park today! mom and dad said we could have a whole day of fun together!" pan exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

your drowsiness quickly evaporated, replaced by an eagerness to embark on this adventure with your spirited sister. you jumped out of bed, slipping into comfortable clothes suitable for a day outdoors.

as you made your way downstairs, the tantalizing aroma of breakfast wafted from the kitchen. gohan and videl were already up, preparing a delicious meal to fuel your day of fun. you greeted them with smiles and exchanged morning pleasantries.

"good morning, mom! good morning, dad!" you chirped, your enthusiasm bubbling over.

"good morning, y/n! sleep well?" videl asked, a warm smile gracing her lips.

"yes, i did! I'm so excited for our day at the park!" you exclaimed, your excitement palpable.

gohan nodded, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. "we've planned some fun activities for all of us. it's going to be an unforgettable day!"

with breakfast devoured and energy levels soaring, your family arrived at the park. the vibrant greenery and the sounds of laughter filled the air, setting the stage for an unforgettable day of adventures.

pan tugged at your hand, leading you toward the swings. the rhythmic creaking of the chains and the delighted squeals of other children filled your ears. as you took turns pushing each other higher and higher, the wind whipped against your face, filling you with a sense of exhilaration and freedom. the world blurred as you soared through the air, your laughter blending harmoniously with pan's.

with rosy cheeks and sparkling eyes, you bid farewell to the swings, ready for your next escapade. hand in hand, you ventured toward the colorful playground. climbing structures, slides, and see-saws beckoned.

pan led the way, her saiyan strength evident in her swift movements. with grace and agility, she scaled the climbing wall, encouraging you to follow suit. you watched her navigate the monkey bars with ease, her laughter contagious. and when you struggled to maintain your balance on the wobbly bridge, pan extended a helping hand, guiding you across with unwavering support.

as the day progressed, your family stumbled upon a tranquil pond, its surface shimmering like a mirror. you marveled at the vibrant hues of the water lilies and watched as ducks glided gracefully across the glassy surface. pan's mischievous grin hinted at an idea that would bring joy to all of you—a game of skipping stones.

together, you searched for the perfect stones, feeling their smoothness against your fingertips. pan demonstrated her throwing technique, her stone gliding across the water's surface in a graceful dance.

"wow, pan! you're so good at this!" you exclaimed, impressed by her skills.

pan giggled, her eyes shining with delight. "thanks, y/n! It's all about finding the right stone and giving it a good flick!"

encouraged by her skill, you tried to mimic her actions, but the stone plunged into the water with a loud splash, sending ripples cascading outward.

videl chuckled, stepping closer to you. "don't worry, y/n! it takes some practice, but i'm sure you'll get the hang of it. keep trying!"

gohan nodded, a supportive smile on his face. "remember, every splash is a chance to learn and improve. don't be afraid to make a few big ones!"

you smiled gratefully at your parents, their encouragement bolstering your confidence. with their words in mind, you continued to try, each throw getting better and better.

as the sun started to dip below the horizon, casting hues of gold and pink across the sky, you and your family reluctantly got up from the grass. holding hands and with hearts full of cherished memories, you made your way back home, carrying the joy and laughter of this special day with you.

the bond between siblings and the love of your parents were the true treasures of the day, cementing a sense of belonging and creating memories that would last a lifetime. as you bid the park farewell, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the extraordinary family that filled your life with love, laughter, and endless adventures.

[nine-of-words]

Out in the Cold (Part Six)

M Orc x M Troll (Hulder) Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG ||

Wordcount: 10525

Content Warnings: Size Difference, Fingering, Anal Sex (Reader Bottoms), Stomach Bulge, Excessive Cum

This one’s a whopper, but for good reason. :)

There it is- the bridge you crossed into the Wilds during the initial journey here.

After a few false starts, nearly getting eaten by at least one predator (that you know of), and nearly becoming lost all over again, you’ve finally made it back here. 

Unfortunately, it seems to have thoroughly broken since the last time you crossed it about a year ago, the wood crumbling to mere bits in the middle where it’s suspended above the deep river water.

You let out a sigh. You’ll have to find somewhere else to cross. You’ve got no other choice but to follow the river until you can find a shallow spot to cross instead.

What feels like an eternity later, you're grumbling out loud to yourself in frustration when you finally spot a stony area of the river, with groups of flat-topped rocks jutting out of the surface acting as a rudimentary stepping stone bridge across the width of the river. If you do fall in, it at least looks like the water is shallow enough that it could be waded through.

You’re not too keen on the idea of plunging into frigid water if you slip- but you’re not worried in the slightest. Your dexterity is one of your finest qualities, after all, and not something to balk at.

Tentatively, you start the act of crossing, hunched low with all the feline grace you can muster, tail aloft for balance. You make sure to have full, confident contact on each slightly damp rock face as you go.

Deftly, and excruciatingly slowly, you progress onwards, rock after rock. As you move towards the middle of the river, the rocks become more spread out in placement, and it becomes more difficult to find stable footing, but you manage.

Until you don't.

Just one split second of thinking you were in a good position when you were, in fact, not, and your wet boot heel squeaks off the rock. Your life flashes before your eyes, hanging in the moment between safety and being knocked unconscious and falling into the river to drown.

Your sharp reflexes try to save you, and mostly succeed. You struggle and wobble, claw tips digging into the rock, and barely manage to right yourself. 

But your misstep is not without cost; as you squirm back upright, your pack slips from its position on your shoulder and into the water flowing beneath the broken chunks of ice. 

"No!!" You screech, and willingly throw yourself after it without a second thought.

The item that this mess - that all of this trouble and heartache was for- is in that bag! You can’t let it slip through your fingers.

Icy cold water splashes up around you as you wade through the stream, feeling around for your bag in the too-fast-for-comfort current. Your clothes are getting soaked through but you could care less, up over your navel as you lean over, reaching blindly. The river is deeper than you originally thought, and at any moment you might get swept away, but you continue to frantically search- you can’t let this go.

Blood rushes in your ears, your heartbeat pounding fast as you claw around desperately for the lost bag. Out of the corner of your eye, you manage to spot it, blurred by the water as it’s being carried down the river, just out of reach, as you struggle to catch up.

You’re almost in deep enough water now to be swimming- or, more accurately, being swept away- now. Your chin dips into the water in your effort to catch the strap in your fingers.

It can’t all have been for nothing! It can’t-

Wet leather grazes your fingertips.

You snatch up the strap through the drag of the current, just as the icy river threatens to pull it away for good.

Eventually, you manage to dredge yourself up onto the rocky bank on your hands and knees, slogging and soaked through, with the strap of your pack lodged so firmly in your clenched fist that your knuckles are going pale.

Your belongings are all waterlogged, your breathing is ragged and labored, and your skin is scraped raw from the cold where it’s exposed.

But you did it.

Though, now you're soaked through, in the middle of winter. Your troll heritage will prevent you from freezing to death, sure, but you can already feel the cold sting your skin.

After rising to your feet, you wring out the excess water from your cloak, and then the brushy tip of your tail with a grimace. You've got to find somewhere to warm up, now. The cold might not kill you, but the orcs certainly might when they catch up to you. Being sopping wet and shivering is only going to get you caught if you go into hibernation, so you’ll have to risk stopping to dry off. At least that way you still have the chance to run.

Luckily for you, it only takes a few minutes of intensely desperate searching to find a cave that seems to have functioned as a makeshift shelter for travelers at some time in the past. There's even still the bones of a long dead fire for you to build on. It’s an arduous task, given the ongoing snow, but you manage to get one lit with the driest of the brush you manage to find.

As soon as you're sure your meager fire won't whimper out, you strip out of your soaked clothing, boots and gloves. You lay that and your pack out to dry off.

You probably look as pitiful as you feel; curled in a ball under your half-wet cloak as close to the fire as you can get, hands and feet tucked in, shivering so violently your teeth chatter.

You huddle tighter under the thin fabric of your cloak, wishing it was the fine hexopard one that you left behind.

Things will be less uncomfortable when the warmth has burned off the dampness - you've just got to power through.

Just… think warm thoughts…

LAST SUMMER

"Got anyone in mind to ask?"

Lurog glances up just long enough for you to catch her eyes in the mirror in front of you, before she looks back down at the complex braid she’s weaving in your hair. A smug smile settles on her normally cool expression, betraying the fact she knows exactly what nerve she’s plucking.

"Ugh. At this point I'm going to ask every man of remotely compatible orientation and I'll take whoever says yes." You sigh, and throw up a hand in defeat. Your ears twitch in both exasperation and ticklishness from Lurog's fingers as she works your hair around them.

"Right. Totally not a desperate or sad answer."

"I'm serious, Lurog! I can't afford to be picky!"

"Pfft, now you sound like Urguk." She says affectionately, teasing. "That's how you end up with a lot of special friends and none of them asking you to join their household."

"At least some of the men find Urguk attractive! I stick out like a sore thumb- I'm worried no one is going to be interested in me."

"I'm sure someone will be. You've just gotta ask the right person."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence.” You sigh. “…What about you? Going to try your luck at the festival as well?"

"Ew. No, no one I'm interested in ever asks me. Rather make all the holiday pay, while the twerps are out trying to ensnare themselves some husbands."

"Heh, I can appreciate the work ethic."

It would be easy if you didn't have to worry about this, either. But you need to get closer to someone with free access to the armory- a hunter, most likely- so that you can ‘borrow’ a key and sneak in yourself, since you found the lock to be unpickable each of the multiple times you’ve tried your hand at it. That way you can confirm the artifact you’re looking for isn’t stored in there.

You've checked everywhere else for your quarry at this point… Where else could it be, but there?

"All done." Lurog turns your chair and hands you a small mirror to inspect her handiwork from both sides.

Your hair has grown out just enough to braid around the top of your head, framing your soft, pointed ears. She's meticulously woven in pieces of sweetgrass, giving the impression of a natural, herbaceous crown. The plant has been recently cut, causing its soft, hay and vanilla aroma to waft around you when you move your head.

"Oh wow! Lurog, this is really stunning." You gently touch the nape of your neck as you look at the back of your hairstyle with the hand mirror. "You're really quite talented."

"It was a pain in the ass." She says bluntly, but you can see the little smirk on her face in the wall mirror from the praise. "Your hair is as difficult as the rest of you. Slippery like a river eel." 

After a few more minutes of chatting with Lurog while you pay, she genuinely wishes you luck for the festival and sends you off.

You came to the salon already dressed in your nicest clothes, so you head out of the shop and follow the sound of music and fledgling revelry towards the clearing by the edge of the settlement.

It’s hard to miss once you make it past the majority of buildings; the field is heavily decorated with many alpine varieties of flowers, ribbons and colorful paint. There’s several stalls set up selling handicraft and flowers, as well as orcish deviations on the standard festival treats and games.

The slightly tamped down meadow serving as festival space is already alive with people and the scent of flowers and grilled food in the air. Everyone seems to be happy to be able to assemble outside for the short time frame of temperate weather per year that the climate allows, rather than in the meeting hall where most of the holidays you’ve been to have taken place so far, as to be sheltered from the cold.

It’s a bit early still, and the celebration itself hasn’t quite gone into full swing yet. So, you decide to peruse the goods at the assembled stalls, instead.

You hear a familiar voice greet you as you’re perusing the line of stalls, contemplating buying yourself a trinket with some of your saved gold. You turn to look at the source of the voice.

It’s Urguk, positioned behind the counter of his family’s woodworking stall, giving you a tusky squiggle of a smile. He’s got soft pink lupine flowers pinned throughout his mess of chunky chestnut brown curls.

“Hello Urguk,” You greet them in turn. “Looks like you’re on selling duty.”

“Yep! I’ve g-gotta help out early if I want to dance later. Let me know if you see anything you wanna buy.” He offers the bare minimum of a sales pitch before pivoting to personal chatting. “H-How’s it going? Excited?”

“Oh, you know how it is,” You say in a deadpan manner as you peruse the wooden trinkets, jewelry and hair decorations spread out in neat sections. “Just acclimating to the idea of dying alone and unwed.”

“Hehe, that’s a little dramatic, e-even for you!”

“Maybe. It’s hard to have much confidence that this festival will be any different when no one’s shown any interest so far.”

Your eyes settle on a felt-lined box filled with small animal figurines, also carved out of wood. You start looking through them- a stoat, an elk, a bear- finding each one somehow cuter than the next.

“Ah, these are so adorable!”

“Hehe, thanks. I c-carved them myself out of leftover cut ends! I’ve been saving them up since the Turn of the Wheel.” Urguk beams in pride, then lets out a weak laugh and adds; “If it makes you feel any better, there’s no hope for me in the romance department, either.”

“Oh, is that right? You’ve never struck me as someone who had trouble finding dates!”

“Dates are one thing, finding someone you want to live with is- c-completely different!”

“Ugh.” You wince, turning over the next tiny wooden creature you’ve picked up in your hands. But a smile settles on your lips, finding that it’s a hexopard. Rather than fangs bared in a threat display or showy roar, it’s simply resting in a reclined pose, looking untroubled. “...Affairs of the heart can certainly be a drag.”

“They r-really are!” Urguk deflates a little bit, drumming his fingers on the stall counter glumly. “H-Honestly? I would just marry Lu- y-you know, if she were a man.”

“Hmmm… Yep. I could see it.” You snap your fingers and conclude decisively, after a moment of analysis. “A shame you’re not properly aligned in that way. You’d make a cute couple.”

“Yeah…” Urguk says wistfully. But his characteristic optimistic nature returns quickly. “I-I know it seems hopeless. B-But we can’t give up, right?”

“When you put it like that, I suppose not.” 

“Yeah! I think you’ll have more luck than you think! Y-You just need to ask the right person!”

“Thanks for the pep talk, Urguk.” You say, feeling a bit lighter. You smile down at the tiny hexopard figurine in your hand. “Let me get out of your hair now- but first, let me buy this-”

“Oh, good choice. That one’s made of cedar, so it smells really good, t-too!”

Once the transaction is done, you carefully tuck the tiny wooden cat in your bag, bid Urguk goodbye for now, and move on from the woodworking stall.

Now that you’ve drawn first blood on your coin purse, it begins to quickly hemorrhage the rest of your meager savings. It’s not often you get to treat yourself; so you go from stall to stall, buying up the things that catch your eye and bring you joy. A pretty woven bracelet with a geometric design of multiple colors, a hammered metal bangle that Burzgob tightens on the spot into a tail cuff for you, a new set of hand-sculpted gambling runestones for when you play at the tavern… Any small trinket that strikes your fancy, really.

You don’t stop your reckless spending spree until you’re trying to fit three full jars of various flavors of jam- plus the free one Granny Gorsha just gifted you on top of your purchase- into your pack, when she mercifully offers to hold them for you to pick up from the tailor’s shop in the morning, instead.

It’s then that you catch a whiff of something good- the heavenly scent of cooking meat. You wander in that direction, letting your nose lead you there. Unsurprisingly, you find yourself in front of a food stall. Your stomach rumbles ominously, your body unable to resist the lust for chargrilled fish when it’s right in front of you. 

It’s hard to miss the familiar, giant blue orc manning the grill, regardless of how blinded by hunger you are.

Torg, surprisingly, is just as dressed up in summer finery as any of the other orcs you’ve seen today. His long braids and beard have sprigs of white mountain saxifrage dispersed through them, the soft white petals perfectly contrasting his dark blue-toned hair. He has several beads and even some blue jay feathers woven into his hairstyle as well - a huge step up from his usual lack of ornamentation. 

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect to see the big boss, of all people, cooking in his festival clothes today. You’re considering a change in profession?”

Torg looks over at you, seemingly unfazed by your teasing, his expression hard and flat to the undiscerning gaze. But you’re familiar enough with him now to notice the small twitch of his brow and the tightness at the edge of his mouth where he’s suppressing a smile.

“Hmm. Not anytime soon.” He snorts in amusement. “Why; are you looking to apply?”

“Oh, no, no thank you, I’m fine, thanks. I know my limits. The settlement would be a smoldering wreck within the week if I were in charge.” You laugh through the thought as it makes the fur on your tail stand straight.  “I was under the impression orc leaders inherit the position? And you never did adopt me…”

“Hah! New Ways tribes elect their chiefs, so you wouldn’t be inheriting the position, even if I did. Someone else would have to bring it to a vote.”

“Oh, well clearly you’re good at the job, then, if no one wants to change things.”

“No one else in the settlement is crazy enough to want this job.” Torg rumbles, but there’s a hint of well-earned pride in his voice. 

“Still, I thought you’d be busy with more, I don't know, chiefly duties?”

“You know how it is- Everything is a chiefly duty when someone needs the help. Cook and Wort are finishing setting up the cooking pit for the feast later. Overseeing festivals is more Shaman’s thing.”

Before you can open your mouth to continue the conversation, your stomach growls again, this time even audible over the sizzle of cooking.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten yet today.” Torg gripes, saying your name like it’s a curse. “The sun’s about to start going down.”

“I won’t tell you, then! But my, do those look even better than they smell.” You return your attention to the fish skewers on the grill. You can barely contain your excitement- Torg is a skilled cook, and has yet to make a dish you haven’t liked on the occasions he’s taken charge of cooking the evening meal. “And they smell magnificent.”

“Want one? Only a half-gold each.”

“Absolutely! All this walking around has worked up quite the appetite, hahah!” You scrounge for some coins, but your fingers only skim leather instead of the metal you were expecting. You find yourself gazing into the empty void of your gold pouch. You’re lucky a single fly doesn’t comically buzz out of it.

Shame pierces your chest like a cold needle. 

“Heh, er- Actually, I’ll have to pass.” You say, sheepish as you re-tighten the drawstrings.

“What do you mean? You were just drooling at the sight!”

“Well, yeah.” You pout and your ears flattening back against your head automatically. You can feel your eyes glazing over with hunger the longer they’re fixed on the delicious looking morsels. “They do look good. But… I shouldn’t.”

Torg lets out a long, exasperated sigh, his toned arms flipping each skewer one after the other with efficient, practiced movement. You rarely see him in short sleeves, given the cold climate, so it’s hard to not stare at the tribal tattoos lining his arms that are now visible. The patterns are almost mesmerizing as they wiggle with the movements of his arm muscles.

“Spent all of your gold on jam again?”

“No.” You lie. You suppose it’s not really a lie, you did buy a wooden figurine and a bunch of other trinkets, too…

“Sure.” Torg’s already picked up a skewer, holding it out over the stall counter with two fingers, leaving room for you to grab onto the end of the wood. He grunts, his large hand motioning with the skewer towards you for you to take hold of it. “Take it anyway.”

“That seems like an abuse of power. Can you really just give away inventory like that?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Torg insists, and you don’t need to be told again. You take the skewer, knowing you’re grinning stupidly, but unable to stop yourself.

You don’t even move away from the stall, ravenously chewing on the skewer like a starving animal. The flesh of the river perch flakes off so tenderly, and has a perfect mix of the flavors of the marinated salt and smoke.

Torg simply shakes his head at your gluttonous display, digging his own gold pouch hanging from his belt and transferring a few coins into the stall’s makeshift till.

“Mmph- Thanks-” You say as you dexterously pick the last bit of browned fish from the skewer with your sharp eye teeth. “I’ll pay you back soon…”

“As long as you’re enjoying yourself, I don’t mind losing half a gold.”

You lick the excess grease from your thumb in thought, putting the licked-clean skewer in the designated trash bowl on the counter. Your left ear flicks.

“Oh- Actually! You can have this!” Your bag rustles as you rummage through it, eventually pulling out the figurine you bought from the woodworking stall. You offer it to Torg with a renewed brightness. “It made me think of you, anyway- can’t imagine why, hahah.”

Torg is speechless for a moment, looking at the wooden creature in your hand, before reaching up and taking it from you to look at it more closely. His heavy features break into a soft look of clear fondness.

“...So? Would that make us even?”

“Hmm- Yeah.” Torg tucks the wooden hexopard into his tunic pocket, still with a tusky smirk hanging on his lips, and shoos you off as more customers arrive. “Now go enjoy the rest of the festival.”

Reinvigorated with lean protein, you feel much more optimistic about your romantic prospects for the night. Your friends are right- you’ve got this in the bag- you’ve just got to play your cards right!

The festival is finally picking up, and you hear the heavy thudding drums of orcish dance music that has begun to play near the open space with the ribbon-studded poles, so you head over that way, where you see people starting to gather.

You’re single, and the time has come to mingle.

You’re suave, and charming, and most of all, you’re absolutely adorable. You’ll surely manage to woo someone tonight. 

But more importantly, you’ll be able to get your ticket in. And once you get that treasure, you’ll get out clean, and go back to your normal life- no, better... you'll be living the highest life a thief could ask for, just like Fritz promised you. Best of all, you won’t have to field any more scolding letters from him telling you to hurry up, finish the job already, and come back.

The dance floor is a cleared area of meadow underneath the poles, far from the tree line, with ribbons. Cut flowers decorate the edges, where orcs look for dance partners, and those that are choosing to spectate rather than dance themselves are lingering with drinks, food and conversation.

Luckily for you, orcish dancing isn’t all that different from the classic ballroom styles you learned growing up, and your natural grace allows you to adapt mostly well. And you have no problem getting anyone onto the improvised dancefloor- every orc man you ask seems thrilled with, or at least entertained by, the invitation. You’re so swept up in your mission of seduction, you barely eat any of the festival feast when the time comes, and only drink less than a quarter tankard of grog- determined to leave this festival with somebody.

There is… one thing that is curious, however.

All of your dance partners have seemed almost suddenly afraid. Without fail, about halfway through your round of dancing, each suitor starts to look more pale and uneasy, like they’ve seen a ghost. 

And sure, you stepped on Vruk’s feet a few times in that first song, but you doubt that would send terror into strong orc warriors the way it seems to have… And Throk tripped over your tail and knocked a few other couples over… And one of the younger hunters even broke out in a cold sweat and claimed to have a stomachache, before running off in the middle of your dance, leaving you confused in the middle of the crowd.

None of the orcs you dance with ask for a second round, that’s for sure.

Hours of celebrating later, the soft embrace of darkness has nearly fully enveloped the open clearing at the edge of the settlement. The only lights in the meadow are the bonfires, the lanterns strung between the painted and flower-laden wooden poles, and the moon much higher above. All of the orclings have been ushered off to bed by now, but the majority of the adult orcs left show no sign of slowing down the revelry - at least the ones that haven’t already paired off and conspicuously disappeared.

Even Urguk has already wandered off with one of his fellow hunters, even though he said he wasn’t planning on actively looking for a date tonight, leaving you without someone to commiserate with. You feel a pang of envy, wishing it could’ve been as easy a process for you.

You realize you might not have this in the bag as you previously believed.

After some effort searching, you find a quiet, out of the way spot under a tree at the edge of the festival grounds to lick your wounds and pout in. You exasperatedly blow a loose strand of hair from your crown braid from your face as you look out at what feels like the rest of the tribe still drinking, laughing, dancing, and enjoying themselves.

What gives?!

At this point, you have danced with every. Single. orc man that’s unspoken for and has given you the slightest indication of being interested in other men.

And not ONE of them was interested in you, past some festive, platonic dancing.

…Perhaps the orcs aren’t the problem. 

Could it be you? 

Maybe… you’re not as cute as you think you are?

…

NO, impossible. That can’t be it- you’re adorable, and someone would have to blind not to see it. Everyone in this settlement must just have awful taste!! Maybe you just don’t fit orc standards of beauty…

You toe the dirt with the tip of your boot and chew your bottom lip in thought.

Maybe you need to change course. Start flirting with some of the feminine and androgynous orcs in hopes you can trick one of them into inviting you into a love affair, instead? That might work…

No, who are you kidding?? You’re way too obviously gay for that!! And how are you going to compete with hot, built orc men?!

You hold your head in your hands in despair. 

You’ll have to approach this differently… It’s risky, but you may have to chance pickpocketing a key instead; though you shudder to think of the cost of getting caught stealing at this point…

It’s no use. You’re not getting anywhere with this tonight, clearly. You might as well head home and get some rest. 

Though, you’re not looking forward to tossing and turning while you try to ignore the frustration that’s been building since you’ve arrived at the settlement… It’s been so long since you’ve felt the touch of another man. Taking care of it yourself just isn’t the same, it’s just a bandage on a slowly growing wound.

You’re tempted to run your hands through your hair and curse in frustration as you stalk farther away from the celebration, down the quiet, mostly unused back path lining the edge of the clearing that leads to the singles housing. The only thing keeping you from doing that is not wanting to carelessly ruin the hard work Lurog did on your hairstyle.

But before you can make the turn and head towards your destination, you notice one of the farthest out bonfires with a singular figure at it, off to your right, slightly hidden from sight by the way the hill slopes.

Getting closer out of curiosity, you soon recognize the familiar, towering figure in the low light- no one else in the settlement could fit that grand of a silhouette. 

You stroll fully off the worn dirt path, coming up from behind. Torg’s seated on the ground, his broad back resting against one the log benches around the communal bonfire.

“Strange seeing you all the way out here. Midsummer celebration seems like the kinda thing you’d be as Chief-y as possible about until the very end of the night, why are you out here by your lonesome?”

Torg grunts in acknowledgement as you approach, not turning to look at you. His expression is hard and brooding as he looks at the fire.

He looks so stoically handsome when he’s lit by firelight like this, you could probably look at him forever.

“Needed some fresh air.” He says coldly and takes a sip from the stone flask he’s nursing. He doesn’t seem drunk- though you realized you’ve never seen him inebriated before, to be able to tell for sure. “What are you doing out here? Finally heading home with someone?

“You think if I got lucky I’d be loitering out here alone in the dark?” You chortle and gesture to the fact you're alone out here in the dark, besides each other.

“...Ah.” He raises his eyebrows, and visibly untenses a bit. "Color me surprised."

“Oh?” You plaster a shit-eating grin on your face and place your hands on your hips. “You know not everyone has a retinue of fair and fertile young maidens lined up and waiting to be be-wifed.”

“You seemed to be doing well enough for yourself.” He brushes your teasing off with a flagrant wave of his hand, looking contemplatively at the fire.

“No such luck.” You plop yourself down next to where he leans on the log bench, since he’s seemed to loosen up enough to welcome the conversation. “I do have the smallest dick in the stronghold, after all.”

His blue lips wobble, threatening to break his vexed expression into a string of belly laughs.

“Well, I guess unless some poor orc around here is extremely unlucky.” You add.

That does make him crack, the deep rumble of a laugh music to your ears after seeing him in such a sour mood.

You take the flask he offers, only resisting laughing at Torg’s struggle to maintain a grumpy face by bringing the stone to your mouth and taking a swig. You cough and look down the lip of the flask before reaching out to hand it back. 

Rotgut. 

“Mmmh. Well, you looked to be having a good enough time.” He takes the flask back, forcing a frown back onto his face at his own words. 

“Hmm? ...Were you watching me?” You cock an eyebrow, tilting your head in confusion.

“It was hard not to.” He says simply and dryly. 

“What, you had to supervise because you thought I’d cause another calamity? I’ve been on my best behavior lately!” 

“No. ...You were asking out every man with a pulse… It wasn’t exactly subtle.”

“Hey, a guy has needs!” You protest, pressing your hand to your low cut shirt, starting to feel a bit insulted. You guess your romantic overtures were pretty obvious... But you don’t see why that should bother him, since everyone here has proved very accepting. “It’s not like anyone here wants me anyway, so why does it matter?”

He laughs again, not one of his usual ones, but more of an indignant bark.

“Hah- What is it then? Did you want a dance?” You bat your eyes down at him, and walk your fingers up his shoulder, teasing. But he looks more like you’ve stabbed him in the gut, rather than his normal eye rolling.

Torg doesn’t offer further comment, seemingly fully clammed up.

“...It’s a bit pathetic, I know. It must have been embarrassing to watch, how desperate I am- My apologies.” You start rambling while you stare at the dying flames and pull your hand back. You’re slightly putoff by the lack of response from him, now that you’ve grown accustomed to more of a friendly banter. It’s like the wall is fully back up, and you don’t like it. “I just…Even surrounded by other people, I’ve been so lonely. I thought I wouldn’t possibly go home alone tonight if I asked out every man here that likes other men...” 

“You missed one.” Torg replies grimly.

The snippets of information floating around the back of your brain finally snap into place with the full force of a bow string loosing. You quickly swivel your torso to face him fully, looking at him directly, with both your hands on the log bench.

“Torg- You’re-?”

His mouth tightens into a thin line between his tusks at the question. His failure to answer is answer enough itself.

“You are!” You cover your mouth for emphasis.

“I am.” He finally gruffly confirms, though he seems to struggle to say it outloud. The severity of his scowl almost makes you want to back off, but you’re in too deep now. "It's not something I talk about."

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It’s difficult to not feel slighted. It’s not like your own orientation is a secret, so why didn’t he feel comfortable sharing that with you? You thought you trusted each other. "Clearly I of all people wouldn’t think of you any differently, especially considering everything that’s happened...”

"Then why does it matter now?" He grumbles irritably, sending your words right back to you.

“Spirits, you’re acting like a grumpy toddler tonight! What bit you in the ass?”

There’s a tense moment of silence between you, save for the crackling of the nearby fire. Your mind races as you try to put together what could be bothering him. Torg definitely isn't prejudiced on this matter, and he said it wasn't that he was concerned about you causing chaos so… so the only other option left is…

“...You’re jealous?” You say incredulously, finally realizing the entirety of the situation. A smug, mischievous smile creeps onto your face from the revelation.

“It changes nothing if I am or not.” He attempts to save face, but can’t seem to avoid saying it in a bitter tone: “You’ve clearly asked everyone you’re planning to ask.”

That’s jealousy alright.

Oh, this is perfect.

You needed access to the armory but if you can make yourself the Chieftain's bedwarmer? You'll have access to wherever you want. This job is as good as finished!

“Torg,” You say sweetly and lay a hand on his shoulder, wanting to wring every last drop out of this situation while you can. “Do you like me?”

Torg finally returns your gaze, letting his head lay back against the bench seat to look up at you. He’s clearly struggling to withstand the emotional torture he’s enduring, not being able to answer directly until you show your own blatant interest first. He’s him, after all- too honorable to break New Ways law.

You don’t need him to answer. His response is written all over the pained expression on his face.

It’s up to you to make the first move.

Not a problem.

You lean over, cradling underneath his chin in your hand. When he makes no move to avoid it, you deliver a soft kiss onto the orc's mouth, smack dab between his large tusks. You savor the feeling of his warm lips and the coarse hair of his beard between your fingers, no doubt crushing some of the small blossoms in your grip. You find yourself kissing him longer than the quick peck you had meant to deliver- it’s such a pleasant feeling, and he shows no sign of wanting you to stop.

“...Should I ask you again…?” You smirk down at him when you finally pull away. You can’t help but linger, 

“Don’t taunt me like this- I can’t take it.” For the first time, you see a crack of weakness in Torg, something doleful and raw, an exposed nerve you’re plucking.  “Watching you ask everyone besides me to dance was painful torture enough already.”

He thinks you’re kidding…? It makes your chest hitch a little in sadness. Taking advantage of a situation? Sure. But you wouldn’t purposefully hurt his feelings for your own entertainment…

“I’m not, I’m… surprised you’re interested in me, is all." You chuckle low, feeling the tightly knit muscle of his grinding jaw under where your hand rests under his chin. "If someone like me tried to court someone in power where I’m from, I’d probably be thrown in the dungeon just for trying…”

“You’re… serious?” The pain radiating from Torg’s visage starts to evaporate.

“Yes, I like you. Why else would I be asking?” You stroke your fingers through his beard. “Or sitting here, kissing you?”

You don’t dislike him, at the very least, which is more than what you can say for some of the men you’ve slept with in the past. You get along well now that you understand each other, and he isn’t hard on the eyes, either…

Torg simply looks at you, stunned to dumbstruck silence. When he regains his ability to think, he cranes his neck with a grunt of approval, beckoning you back.

You oblige, fluttering light, teasing kisses on his surprisingly cared-for lips before you deign to give him another longer, savoring one.

It’s not long before you’ve slid down from your perch on the bench, in favor of straddling Torg’s wide waist. Torg accepts your weight as if it’s nothing, the heat of your bodies quickly beginning to mingle through your clothes.

Given your clear indication of enjoyment, he deepens the kiss, pressing his eager tongue past your lips. You accept it just as eagerly, the feign of a bite scraping his tongue only serving to embolden him, rather than deter. His mouth is warm and you can taste the potent heat of the booze still lingering on his tongue.

You bury your slender fingers in the front of his tunic, wrenching your hands in excitement. You find yourself grinding your hips against Torg’s lap, the friction against the gradually firming bulge beneath you only a temporary balm for the bottomless void of need inside you.

Any hesitation Torg held previously is completely gone now. 

Firm hands grope on your waist, brazenly feeling the shape of your body through your clothes. Soon his fingers start to roam, desperate to take in what he desires. Desires he’s apparently been struggling to hold back for much longer than you realized, even.

You can’t help but start to feel swept up in the feeling. It’s not like this is the first encounter you’ve had with someone wanting your body, but this feels completely different. There’s a consuming heat and desire for ownership in the way he touches you that surpasses just finding you attractive on a surface level.

It intimidates you, just a bit- but oh, is it intoxicating.

"Hah- Why don't you take me to your place?" You gasp out, breathless, when he moves his mouth down to roughly suck your neck, the point of one of his tusks digging at your pulse. The grinding of your hips only grows more desperate the more time that passes. "There's a special dance I'd like to do with you.”

"Took you long enough." Torg grunts in your skin, excitement causing his deep voice to tremor. He quickly gets to his feet, then immediately scoops you up and effortlessly tosses you over his shoulder like a half-empty sack of flour.

You break into laughter in response, his firm grip on the underside of your thigh making you squirm against him. 

Torg makes it back to his home in what must be record time, you slung over his muscled shoulder the whole way. After you make it over the threshold and behind a closed door, he sets you down.

Torg's house is cozy, with high ceilings like most of the buildings in the settlement have, to allow for an average orc’s height. On that note, all of the furniture is just slightly bigger than normal, with his massive bed being the most glaring example. The living space is simple and practical, lacking basically any frivolous decoration in favor of utilitarian storage. Everything is mostly neutral in palette, with the surfaces being either exposed wood or natural stone. The place is also impeccably clean, like it’s been thoroughly scrubbed from top to bottom recently...

You have to stop yourself from immediately mentally launching into all the ways you could freshen up the decor and give this place some color and personality.

"Nice place you've got here." You unceremoniously strip off your shirt without another word. 

Torg stands motionlessly in front of the threshold. He looks like he’s just been shot with a crossbow bolt, eyes glued to your bare chest.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You give him a playful grin, and toss your shirt at him- thought it misses by far. “I assumed we were on the same page…”

"We are." His voice rumbles, and his fingers finally move to unclasp the pin still holding the light summer cloak at his throat. A small smile quirks onto his mouth. “Never thought I'd get this far, outside of when I’ve thought about you…”

Torg finally manages to remove the pin, draping his cloak on the nearby wall hook. 

The warm light of the room catches on the metal closure he’s fiddling with. And now that you’re looking at it directly, you immediately recognize the item.

That’s it.

That cloak pin… that fibula… is the artifact you’re here for.

…

Torg’s had it this whole time?! 

Why didn’t I think of that…? Stupid.

You resist the urge to slap your forehead in chagrin.

You’ve managed to luck into exactly what you needed, once again. Typical.

He stores the fibula inside the small wooden box he's pulled out from the nightstand drawer. Before he slides the drawer closed again, he has the awareness to retrieve what looks like a small jar, and set it down on the tabletop.

Then he takes a seat on the edge of his bed and returns his full attention to you, eyes still running over your upper body like he's taking in the sight of a delicious meal.

You funnel your newfound giddiness and sense of purpose into seducing the man in front of you - not that you think it’s going to take much effort at this point. Given the potent yearning in his eyes, it’s a safe bet he’s already wrapped around your finger.

It’s an easy enough plan. Wear him out with sex, and then slink away in the morning with your prize, and this will all be over…

“You’ve thought about me like that before?” You recover your facade with a twitch of your ears, moving enticingly towards Torg’s frame. You sidle up to him coyly, running your fingertips lightly over his shoulders. 

"All the time. I can't stop." He pulls you closer to him, his large hands cradling your sides lovingly. The stark difference in your heights is easier to bridge now that he's seated. He moves in for a kiss, but not before he pauses to add; “You’ve broken me.”

------

You tease his lower lip in your teeth, feeling around for the loose end of his braided leather belt. You easily undo it, your mouth still tangled with his- not needing to look with hands as deft as yours. The loose style of belt causes it to fall off as soon as it's not taut, and you simply drag it off the bed and let it fall to the ground, a metal clink on the hardwood from the metal fastener rings.

Next you feel around for the hem of his tunic, touching the thick muscle of his sides as you go. You break off the kiss with a deep exhale, realizing you'll need to do so to get his shirt off. Even as you push the fabric up, you're not quite tall enough to get it over his head. Torg takes it from there, pulling the tunic off and causing a small storm of the remaining saxifrage petals to fall from his beard in a soft, balsam scent. 

You're left faced with an expanse of blue skin, swathed with a coating of coarse black hair. The bold, geometric lines of dark tribal tattoo sleeves snake up his arms and reach onto his pecs, and you can see the odd, light patch of scar tissue here and there from old, healed over injuries.

You run your fingers over the lines of ink on his skin, following the pattern inwards to the center of his chest, then through the coarse hair there, the sensation making gooseflesh on your own arms. Then you tug softly, making the orc heave a small grunt in response, through the twisted snarl of a grin on his face.

Trying to hold back your laugh, you let your hands wander lower. Torg’s torso is sturdy and rugged, but still soft to the touch thanks to the hearty layer of fat around his gut.

“You look so good tonight.” Torg’s hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck, thumbing the sensitive skin at your hairline and tilting your head to make you look at him.

You smile up at him, trying to ignore the sudden hammering in your chest. You move your hands farther down, feeling over the mild slope of his abdomen until you reach the edge of the fabric of his waistband.

“Let’s see what we’re working with here…” You begin to pull down the front of his breeches, already feeling the slightly intimidating girth tenting the fabric taut.

His cock springs up as soon as you remove the fabric, rigid and more than ready. It's nearly the length of your forearm, and at least as thick, framed by a thick patch of coarse hair where it meets his testicles. Risen nubs of erect tissue line its length, bigger and more prominent near the base.

And it's blue, obviously; slightly darker than his skin, the wide head flushed nearly purple with bloodflow.

You think you can feel your insides trying to rearrange themselves at the sight alone.

“Oh, wow. You are absolutely massive.” You can’t help but let out a breathy laugh as you squeeze him. Your hand doesn’t even fully encircle his girth. “Then again, I don’t know what I was expecting.”

Torg replies with a grunt of approval as you rub him, his thighs visibly tensing and his hips jerking up slightly into your hand in need. Precum already beads at the tip.

You gently tease the bumps along the length of his cock with your thumb, wondering how they'll feel inside of you and inadvertently turning yourself on that much more in the process.

“Let me see you.” Torg growls out the command and motions to your lower body, and you’re happy to oblige.

Without taking your hand from its work, you obediently push down the cinched waistband of your pants with your free hand. They come down easily, falling off of you in one easy motion once loosened.

You take a few moments to drink in the look of pure, torrential desire Torg's giving your naked form.

An almost pained rattle of a sigh escapes Torg’s throat, and he brings his hands up to feel the shape of your thigh. His hands don’t stay there for long, though, instead moving to stroke lightly against the soft skin on your inner legs, tortuously glancing against the underside of your dick. You can’t help but rock your hips back and forth where you stand, just barely, trying to get more direct stimulation.

“If you’re this eager, come on up.” Torg orders, motioning to his lap and purposefully keeping his hand just barely grazing your most sensitive parts. 

Finally, you give in and climb up onto him. You steady yourself with his shoulders and nestle into his lap, straddling him where he sits on the edge of the bed.

You let out a small moan as your hardness rubs against the soft, taut round of his stomach, and his erection presses flush against your taint. He all but growls, rolling his hips forward and back, dragging against any resemblance of a squeeze he can get.

His calloused fingertips run along your bare back, tracing your spine, then sinking down to firmly squeeze the cheek of your ass in his palm.

"Ah-" You let out a soft gasp at the sudden firm grip on your body. Torg gropes the newly exposed soft skin, drawing more sounds from you. His digits graze under your tail, dangerously close to the cleave of your ass, and you shudder.

"Here…" You say breathily, pressing your face flat against his fuzzy torso to lean over and grab the jar of what you can only assume is lubricant that he removed from the nightstand drawer.

You straighten up and he offers you his free hand that isn't kneading your ass cheek. Instead of handing him the vial, you pop the top yourself, slathering the lube on his fingers with your best coy expression.

"Nngh-" Torg chest rumbles deeply with lust at the act, reaching around you. "You’re trouble."

"Hahah- Aah!" Your tender laugh is cut short, altered into a moan when you feel Torg's thick, now lubed fingertip pressing beneath the base of your tail. 

He's using all of his restraint to go torturously slow, drawing out each little noise and shudder from you as he leisurely strokes your inner walls. Your tail arches and writhes in circles, your brain overloaded and not sure what to do with it. You can’t help yourself from rutting back against him.

He kisses you as he starts to plunge his finger in and out. You groan into his mouth in turn, twisting your tongue against his.Trying to be patient and failing, you find yourself pressing back against his fingers, goading him on. He grunts in response, pressing deeper, up to his second knuckle.

"A-Ah- I'm ready for more-" You finally break the kiss when you feel adequately adjusted, your lips teased pink. You clench around his fingers for emphasis.

“Soon. Take another first-” Torg chides you, clearly spending a lot of effort to hold off as best he can. You can feel the girth of him under you ready to split you open. A second finger nudges your entrance.

“Nngh-” You pout unfavorably at your request being postponed. “Why? You want to torture me?”

"No. You are so small." Torg’s other large palm cradles your face as if to emphasize his point, and you in turn nuzzle your cheek into the width of it, fully mussing the braid on that side of your head. “I don't want to hurt you.”

"Heh, that’s sweet-” You make a point of grinding back against his fingers. “Don’t worry. I know what I'm doing."

Torg's touch is gentle but persistent, encouraging your walls to relax around his fingers. All you can do is lull your head forward against his sternum.

“Please-” You beg, feeling what remains of your dignity leaving your body. The ache is too much, and while what he’s currently doing to you is getting close to hitting the mark, it’s not what you need.

Torg grunts in approval, and between his hold on your thighs and the leverage from your bent knees, you manage to align yourselves. 

“Aaah-” A small moan escapes you. The sensitive nerve endings around your entrance light up as it stretches open to accommodate his cock, his head not quite fully entered but splitting you neatly.

He presses in steadily, your hole already taking the thickest part of his cockhead. You grip his shoulders tightly as he starts to tentatively thrust in and out.

"E-Easy-" You sputter, trying to ease yourself up from the incursion starting to delve deeper in larger increments with each stroke.

"Nngh- Sorry." He grunts, voice thick with lust as he struggles to slow and shallow his thrusts. "Feels too good.”

You wince and suck in a breath of air through your teeth, enduring the slight burn of being stretched around his massive dick and the flared tip slips inside.

It must look more painful than it is, because Torg tentatively lifts you by the underside of your thighs, slowing his pumping to a near stop.

"No- Don’t stop-" You whine in protest, breathing in hitched pants, squirming to get more of him back inside of you. "M-More-! I can take it!"

Torg happily complies, resuming driving himself inside of you, but now he’s building from the agonizingly slow rhythm to something more substantial, the slick of the lubrication inside of you beginning to squelch loudly.

You whimper, feeling yourself spread farther apart with each thrust. The more of Torg’s shaft that he manages to sink into you, the more you feel your muscles start to relax, letting him deeper in turn. 

He's so far in now that you're starting to be able to feel the raised bumps lining his phallus rub and drag along your entrance and along your walls as he fucks you. The nubs are progressively more obvious, bigger as you sink closer to the base. You rut back against him, chasing the angles that feel best.

“S-Spirits-!” You gasp out and lean in to wrap your arms around his neck, barely able to keep yourself upright from the pleasure wracking your body. “Yes-Yes-!”

Finally, you manage to take it all; now reduced to a whimpering, mewling mess. Drool threatens to seep out of the side of your mouth, left open as the gasps and moans he pulls from you become nearly nonstop. You can’t see it from your current angle but you can feel your abdomen bulge to accommodate him every time he fully seats himself inside of you.  

A lewd, open-mouthed grin spreads on your face in pride, feeling this full. You can feel his pulse throbbing from inside you.

“Good-” He comments simply into your flicking ear with his gravelly, lustful voice, each word punctuated by a thrust. What it lacks in verbosity, it’s thick with meaning. “And tight.”

The pleased way his voice rumbles the words out makes your heart flutter in your chest. You barely have time to adjust to being absolutely filled to the hilt as he continues with renewed fervor.

He’s built to a much more passionate pace than before, his hands now holding you close and secure by the round of your ass as you’re jostled up and down. Between the onslaught and the pressure of his body rubbing your cock, you’re nearly out of your mind.

“Torg!” You groan over his shoulder. Hearing his name pulled from you like this seems to make him work even harder to make you feel good, finding what movements make your voice tremble the most. “T-Torg-”

Being this close to him, you can hear just how taxed and heavy his own breathing is, but he shows no hints for being remotely tired or even wanting to slow down. 

So much for you tiring him out - you’ll be lucky if you can walk in the morning at this rate.

Any machinations about how to best slip out with the fibula in the morning have completely left your mind. You're left with blissful empty-headedness, not able to think about anything other than Torg and how good he's making you feel right now - and how much you want to wring more of those gruff, masculine noises of pleasure from him with your body. You want to leave him completely spent.

Unfortunately for you, you know your body well enough to know that you’re nearly at your limit. Outlasting him was a pipedream.

Not yet- You barely manage to think to yourself. If you give in now, the struggle to get him to cum first is as good as forfeit.

But it's no use. Torg simply has more stamina than you- an amount that you just can’t compete with. You can’t resist any longer; your whole body stiffens up.

You dig your nails into Torg’s sculpted back, burying your face in the sweat-dampened crook of his neck and letting out a muffled, pitiful cry into it as the pressure in your loins becomes too much to withstand. You shoot onto his abdomen, making a slick of semen where your torsos rub together. You cum so hard your vision goes spotty- you’re not sure how long you’ve forgot to breathe.

“Damn-” He grumbles appreciatively.

His pumps become hectic and desperate, searching for release himself with wild abandon now that he’s satisfied you. You lazily press breathy kisses to the side of his neck, weakly clenching around him, encouraging him to finish. You would be more active in helping him along, but the room is still spinning for you.

Torg lets out a roar in accomplishment, squeezing your cheeks roughly in his palms as his muscles lock up, shooting his massive load inside you.

It goes on for an inordinate amount of time, at least compared to any of the men you’ve had sex with before. Hot gushes of cum just keep coming, finally tapering off when you can feel a font seeping from where you’re connected, having no space left inside of you to go.

“Haah- Spirits, that was good- Haah-” Your voice wavers between pants as you chase down your breath. You can barely think straight or feel your legs- you might as well be floating.

What remains of your waking portion of the night is a pleasant blur; you fall out very quickly while Torg is cleaning you up.

------

When you wake, hazy, pinkish sunlight is only barely starting to peek through the windows.

It takes you a moment to remember where you are- but it's hard for the memories to not start crashing back as soon as you see the massive blue lump still sound asleep next to you. You’re nestled in Torg’s bed against the warmth of his body, only covered by the pile of furs making up the bedding.

You briefly contemplate getting dressed as fast as possible, as you run your fingertips over the thief’s brand on your upper left arm. Torg didn’t seem to notice it last night- but he was certainly more distracted then than he was likely to be this morning.

…No, first thing’s first- time to find that fibula. If it’s important enough to fetch that much gold, then getting dressed can wait a moment or two.

Luckily, no heavy orcish arms are pinning you down and Torg seems fast asleep on his back, based on the deep rising and falling of his bare chest, so you decide to try to slink out of the bed unnoticed.

But you hesitate before you move.

You find yourself looking over at Torg’s sleeping form. He looks remarkably peaceful while he’s asleep - his usual, permanent semi-scowl is absent from his face, his expression instead almost too soft and relaxed for his hard features.

You’re tempted to brush the strand of thick, dark hair from his face. 

Then, you remember what you’re supposed to be doing.

You make your way over to the other side of the bed as quickly as possible. Torg is still asleep, thanks to your stealthy, dexterous movements, but you don’t know how long that will last. Steeling your nerves, you quietly, gingerly, open the drawer next to him that you saw him store the fibula in last night.

Inside the nightstand drawer are objects you’d expect to find in a nightstand drawer; a (seemingly new) pot of hand cream, a few paperbacks, the familiar jar of slick, first aid tidbits, and the small wooden lockbox. The medicine piques your interest… because while there are a few common medications you do recognize, there’s a set of seven small, unlabelled potion vials that you can’t identify. The days up to today are empty.

Hmm, something regular then? I wonder what these are for…?

You push your curiosity down, reaching for the box. But before you can get your little mitts on it-

"Mmgh- What are you scrounging for over there?" Torg rolls onto his side, attention sharp despite the haze of sleep thick in his voice. His wide palm pushes back his mussed hair from his face.

You nearly jump out of your skin in shock from him suddenly speaking when you thought he was still asleep. Embarrassingly, your tail bristles up like a bottle brush. 

"A-ah, I was uh… just looking for some- pain relief-?" You lie to save face, holding the small of your back for effect. “Heh… I’m a little sore this morning, can’t imagine why…”

“Hmmnh… Should be right there on top. Green dropper bottle.” He says, groggily recounting the location of the medicine as he scrubs at his face. “...Only take a drop or two. Shaman mixes orc sized doses.”

You nod, before taking the bottle and dropping a couple droplets of the apple-mint flavored mixture on your tongue for show.

“Did I hurt you?” His brow furrows deeply in concern. “I can carry you to Shaman’s if you need me to-”

“No, no. I’ll be fine! Just a bit sore is all.” You laugh softly, giving him a reassuring smile and shrug. "...I may have gotten a little carried away poking around, I guess. I realized that I don't really know that much about you."

"I'm an open book." He says in a deadpan tone and pats the empty bed beside him. "Just ask from here."

You feel the fond smile spread on your face without even having to fake it, then allow yourself to readily slip back underneath the heavy pile of furs next to him.

You suppose that there will always be another chance to steal the fibula later…

"I suppose first thing’s first; What exactly is this?" You motion between the two of you. You learned a long time ago that it's best to be upfront about these sorts of things and not make assumptions that might end up painful later.

"Right into the thick of things this morning, huh? Whatever you want it to be." He says, trying to seem a lot less invested in your decision than he clearly is. "You’re the one that makes the choice here. It's how things work here. You've seen what I have to offer: it's your call if you like what you see."

"Soooo…" You cutely walk your fingers up his dense bicep. "We could be lovers?"

"If it suits you." No matter how hard he tries to keep the tired, hopeful grin from showing, it’s plain as day on his face.

"Yes, but does it suit you?"

“It suits me just fine.” He wraps his strong arms around you, enveloping you. “It would suit me even better if you’d move in. But I understand if that’s a lot to ask- it is a bit old-fashioned.”

“...Move in? Like, you want me to live here?” You repeat incredulously, your ears twitching in surprise. You can’t remember the last time someone you had sex with wanted you around the next morning, let alone wanted you around permanently. “Orcs move fast, huh?”

"Yeah, yeah. Later today, even. If you want to.” His deep breathing ruffles the hair on the top of your head, and his hand strokes your soft lower belly. “I've waited long enough already- I want you here with me."

"...Okay." You don’t need to think twice. You blissfully grin from ear to ear, hardly able to believe your luck.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[ghostieagere]

I usually don't ask...

But i tonight my legs hurted so much at each movement i did and i couldn't calm down...

Can you write about Mountain having problems with his legs but not wanting to ask for help because he's strong enough (he's the one who care about everyone not the one to care about, he can't be weak,no?) to deal alone with that, suffering in his room till Aether founds him?

[i dont know if it's a good idea for writing but... feel free to ignore this 🥺, sorry to bother]

hi, loves <3 i'm sorry to hear both of you have been having a rough time recently :( hopefully this can help you both a tiny bit <3 (and you aren't bothering me at all, anon !!)

cw: mountain struggles to walk, severe leg pain, mountain loves fried rice, brief mention of accidentally skipping a meal, regressed (child, not toddler) mountain, cg aether. mightn't be the easiest read for littles.

~

The hill leading up from the greenhouses to the Abbey is a decent size. Mountain has never really thought of it as big, but he knows the littles get adorably exhausted trying to climb back up it at the end of a long, exciting da with him in the greenhouses. He always delights when their faces light up after he offers them a piggyback. When it's him who's struggling to climb back up the hill with no one to offer their help however, he thinks it's much less adorable.

Each step he takes has his knees screaming at him for putting them under so much pressure, joints wobbling dangerously in their sockets as he moves forward and upward. The path under his feet is slippery with loose stones and gravel, which means that with his weakened legs, every step he takes sends him sliding back another two. It's always an impossible task getting back to the Ministry on a bad pain day, but Mountain doesn't remember ever having quite this much difficulty, even when he regresses.

Speaking of, as he gets more and more frustrated for not being able to make his way up the hill, he feels his mind slipping slowly into a horribly familiar void of fog and annoyance; a mirror of his actions when his legs give out under him and he slides back to the bottom of the hill, all his progress lost. Again.

He tries again and again, and each time ends with him falling flat on his face, knees giving out from underneath him as he cries out in pain over and over again. Once it's clear he's not going to make it if he walks, he tries crawling up, but the path is so rocky that he scrapes his hands and knees barely five metres into his attempt.

He curses himself for not bringing his crutches or his cane down to the greenhouses with him earlier. Not that they would be much good on the sliding, unstable gravel, but maybe if he'd been using them during the day, his legs wouldn't have become this painful. Alas, his imposter syndrome never stops reminding him that he doesn't need mobility aids all the time, therefore he shouldn't be allowed to use them at all. It's a thought process he's trying to break, but he never seems to have much luck with it. One day he'll be able to break it, and he can only hope that day comes soon; he's getting tired of having to spend his nights alone in a freezing greenhouse.

He sighs, tears of annoyance in his eyes as he slowly makes his way back into the main greenhouse. His knees buckle and legs give out under him at least twice, but the earth ghoul is so exhausted from trying to climb back up the hill that he can barely keep track of putting one foot in front of the other, let alone how many times he wobbles on his feet.

Once he's inside the greenhouse, he collapses, sobbing. He hadn't properly registered it while he was walking, but now that he's stopped, he hurts. His knees ache, feeling like they're on fire and pressed up against dry ice all at once, the hot and cold mixing not to create a perfect balance, but a hellscape of pain and sensation. Once the sobs subside, Mountain crawls very slowly over to his makeshift bed on the greenhouse floor and tries to get comfortable; this happens often enough that he's had to create a space that's comfortable enough for him to sleep on several nights a week.

The bed is a humble thing. Straw, spare bags of fertiliser and layers hessian bags make up the mattress, and Mountain has brought down his least favourite pillows and blankets to keep him relatively comfortable throughout the long, painful nights. Usually, this is fine, but the fog clouding his brain hasn't gone away—if anything, it's getting stronger with every movement of his legs that shoots pain right through his whole body—and all he wants is comfort; his favourite blankets, his non-lumpy pillows, maybe even the weight and warmth of that microwavable plushie Sunshine bought for him the other week.

He sighs. Wishing for any of these things won't make them magically appear. He'd better get as comfortable as he can with what he's got here. As soon as he tucks himself into the bed, pulling the scratchy blankets up to his neck, his stomach rumbles. He's hungry; hasn't eaten since breakfast, accidentally continuing his work in the greenhouse well into the afternoon until it was too late to go back up for lunch. It's a choice he's really starting to regret now. Unable to climb the hill and return to the Ministry, Mountain won't be eating tonight. He lets out a decidedly kit-like whine at this realisation; normally he'd be embarrassed but since there's no one around to hear or help him, he can't find it in himself to care.

When another rumble sounds from his stomach, he wraps his arms around his middle and curls in on himself, crying quietly. He's all alone, and no one's going to come help him. Even if they did, how could they help? He's in too much pain, he's crying, and everything is so big and so much that he can barely stand to think about it, let alone handle it.

He's so in his head, vision so blurred by his tears and hearing obscured by the sound of his sobbing, that he doesn't notice Aether until the quintessence ghoul is crouched right in front of him.

"Oh, eden, what am I going to do with you, hmm?"

"Ae– Aether...?" Mountain doesn't want to sound too hopeful. He's partially convinced that the ghoul in front of him is some hallucination provided by his mind to give him some comfort. Either that or the fumes from the fertiliser are starting to get to him.

"I'm here, sprout," Aether assures him, reaching out to gently caress the earth ghoul's cheek. "I'm here."

Mountain breaks down all over again, sobbing so hard that his head begins to hurt. He's so relieved that someone is here. He's not going to be left alone. He's safe now.

"M– My legs are hurting and I– I couldn't get up the hill and then I am crying and– and– and–" He cuts himself off, heaving big breaths in between his sobs and sniffles.

"Hey, shh, love. Slow down, one thought at a time, little eden," Aether reminds him. "Breathe with me, c'mon. Yeah, that's it, love, iiiiiiiiiiin." Aether inhales slowly, and Mountain does his best to mirror the quintessence ghoul's actions. "And now we breath ooouuut..."

Mountain lets go of his breath in a huff, making Aether chuckle.

"You need to breathe out a bit slower than that, eden. As slowly as we did when we breathed in. D'you want to try again?"

Mountain nods, biting his lip as he stares up at Aether.

"Okay, follow my lead again. That's it." Aether leads the two of them through the cycle of in's and out's as many times as it takes for Mountain's tears to slow and for his breathing to even back out. When they're done, Aether smiles at him widely and leans down to press a gentle kiss to Mountain's forehead. "Well done, little eden. I know you're hurting, and you're being so brave."

Aether's praise brings tears to his eyes all over again, and he only just manages to keep them from spilling over. "Th– Thank you, Aethy..."

"You're welcome, love." Aether kisses his forehead again, pulling a quiet laugh out of Mountain. "And, oh!" Aether exclaims suddenly. "I almost forgot! I brought something for you, love."

Mountain cocks his head in question, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to imagine what Aether could have possibly brought.

The quintessence ghoul reaches behind him and pulls out a tupperware container and a fork. Mountain's eyes widen and he sits up immediately. "You broughted food?"

Aether hums the affirmative and opens the lid to show the little earth ghoul the contents of the container. "Rain and Cirrus made fish, but I know that's not really your favourite, so I swiped some fried rice from the main kitchens."

Mountain barely lets Aether finish his sentence before he's grabbing the container and messily scooping the dinner into his mouth. "Iths good Aef!" He says, grinning around a mouthful of rice.

Aether smiles. "I'm glad. I figured you'd be hungry, you skipped lunch, eden."

Mountain has the good sense to look ashamed as he swallows his rice. "I know... Wan'ed to finish my plant things... 'M sorry, Aethy."

Aether hums and reaches out to stroke Mountain's hair softly. "I know your plants are important, but you're important too, little eden. You gotta take care of yourself as well as your plants, even if it's hard."

"M– Maybe," Mountain considers. "Maybe if I had comed up for lunch, I would not be stuck in here now...?"

"Maybe," Aether says. "But it's best to not think about what might have happened, yeah? Better to think about what's happening now, love."

"Well, I have got my rice and my itchy blankets and my Aether now," Mountain grins. "But I do not have, um... Being warm...?"

"You don't have being warm?" Aether clarifies, clearly amused as he continues carding his fingers through the little earth ghoul's hair.

"I don't have being warm!" Mountain repeats. "I wanna go in the warm, but I can't go up the hill..." He can feel the pout in his voice as he leans into Aether's hand on his head.

"Well..." Aether starts. "How about I carry you up the hill?"

Mountain gapes. "You can do that?"

Aether assures him that he can, pretending to flex his muscles and making Mountain giggle uncontrollably. "I know the hill's very steep, but if we need, I can get someone else to come down and we can carry you up together, okay?"

Mountain nods, already excited by the prospect of not having to spend the night in the cold, damp greenhouse. "Can I eat my rice more when you carry me?"

"If you can hold onto me and eat your rice at the same time, you can absolutely eat the rest of your rice as we walk up," Aether assures him. "But if you can't hold on, you need to promise me that you'll drop the rice, okay? I'd rather have to clean up rice than clean my little eden up from off the ground."

"I can do that!" Mountain says enthusiastically. "Do I drop the fork too?"

Aether nods. "You're all over this, love! A master of fork and rice safety, that's what you are."

Mountain grins and puffs out his chest proudly, holding his arms out ready for Aether to pick him up.

"This might hurt a bit while I get your legs in a comfy position, okay, little eden?"

Mountain nods, wincing as his legs change position when Aether gets his hands under the little earth ghoul's armpits and lifts. He lets out a quiet cry of pain as Aether repositions him in his arms, but once he's settled, the pain disappears. Without the warmth of his blanket covering him however, he starts shivering in the quintessence ghoul's arms.

"You ready to go, love?"

Mountain nods, burrowing further into Aether's arms for warmth while simultaneously still trying to eat his fried rice.

Aether laughs affectionately at his antics. "You comfy now?"

"Uh huh. 'S good."

"Great! Alright, my little eden. Let's go get you warmed up."

[dearestspirit]

road

-> xiao x gn!reader

-> fluff

-> wc: 773

-> note: probably ooc xiao but idc i like making him flustered. somewhat established relationship in the sense that you two are already close enough to be friends/for you to tease him, i guess?

cold rain pelted down on your skin, the night's storm raging on. thunder roared, lightning flashing across the sky every so often. panting, you ran through the muddy trails of liyue, chest heaving as you did. after accepting a last minute commission, you were hurrying to make the delivery the commissioner requested. of course, they had demanded it be delivered before the first sunlight of the day, leaving you little time to make your way through the countryside. mud had started to soak through your boots, leaving your footing uncomfortably slippery. tonight's weather has significantly slowed your progress, leaving you not even a moment to rest.

holding your hand above your head to block rainwater from soaking your face, you take a second to look up at the path ahead of you. eyesight blurry, you squint. barely, you could make out a nasty group of hilichurls. exhausted, you huffed. pulling out your weapon, your combat was sluggish. you managed to take out a few, but two mitachurls had easily surrounded you in your vulnerable state.

knocked backwards, you hastily roll over onto your stomach, clawing at the dirt to pull yourself forward. wincing, you try your best to ignore the scraping of rocks against you, the rough stones ripping through the fabric of your clothing. out of the corner of your eye, you see the gigantic ax begin to swing down in the air, aiming for you.

breathless, you manage to call out. "xiao!" you yell, eyes squeezing shut as you brace for impact.

a sudden gust of wind blows through the air, disrupting the monster's attack. startled, you open your eyes to see a figure leaning above you. crawling, you manage to sit upright. around you lay slain hilichurls, their bodies dusting to ash within milliseconds. clearing his throat, the figure holds out a hand to help you stand.

"you came," you mumble, taking his hand. xiao wraps an arm around your middle, keeping you steady as you wobble. "thank you."

he nods sharply, reaching up to lift the yaksha mask off his face. returning it to his side, he breaks eye contact. "it's nothing to praise. if you require protection, i will provide it. that's all there is to it."

you smile, nudging at his ribs teasingly. "are you sure?"

xiao tenses, shoulders raising as if to shield himself. "i… i do suppose i have some sort of satisfaction at knowing that i'm the one you called to protect you." his voice is hoarse, but a redness spreads throughout his cheeks.

"i'm just teasing you, don't worry about it, xiao," you reassure him, making sure to take a step back. his touch lingers around you, but with your movement his grip loosens, arm falling back to his side. scrunching your nose, you wipe at the excess rainwater on your face. "i appreciate you sticking to your word, at least. you'd probably be surprised how many people don't, nowadays…"

xiao furrows a brow, looking at you curiously. "did someone upset you recently?" he questions, arms crossing.

"just this commissioner, really," you shake your head, picking up the packages you had dropped during your fight. "they said it could be delivered at the end of the week, but of course, now they're changing their mind and it has to be delivered before tomorrow morning. they're even threatening to slash the reward in half!"

he nods as he listens to you. "yes, that is unfair to you… come here, i can help get you there quicker." he holds his arm out, allowing you to place a hand in the crook of his elbow to hang onto him.

using his vision, he's able to bring the both of you much closer to the intended recipient's house. xiao's hands land at your sides, holding you still as you adjust to the sudden movement.

"after you deliver it, i can assist you back to wangshu inn. the weather isn't going to clear up any time soon. your journey home would take too long, and you need to rest after the scuffle you found yourself in earlier." he tells you, awkwardly, yet endearingly, resting a hand on your back.

turning towards him, you grin. placing a hand on his cheek, you turn his face gently to the side so you can press a kiss on the other cheek. "thank you, xiao. it means a lot to me."

bristling, the blush on his face is quick to deepen, making even his neck a bright red. "go… go finish your commission," xiao mumbles, hand coming up to cover the lower portion of his face. "i'll wait for you here."

[penportrayal]

Shine On: Staying Positive Amidst Life's Storms

Life, as much as we'd like it to be a never-ending montage of fluffy kittens and rainbows, has a funny way of throwing curveballs that leave us feeling like deflated whoopie cushions. While the sunny patches bring warmth and happiness, it's the inevitable storms that test our resilience and shape our character. During these challenging times, it's easy to feel overwhelmed and lose sight of hope. But remember, even the darkest night eventually gives way to dawn. You've overcome challenges before, haven't you? You're a survivor, a warrior, a… well, you get the idea. This obstacle is just another stepping stone on your path to greatness.

Acknowledge the good, even when it feels insignificant. Start a gratitude journal, listing three things you're grateful for each day. It could be a warm cup of coffee, a friendly conversation, or simply the strength to get through another day. Focusing on the positive shifts your perspective and reminds you of the blessings amidst the challenges. Sometimes, the best way to diffuse a tense situation is to laugh at it. Did your presentation go hilariously wrong? Embrace the awkwardness! Did your pet parrot decide your new haircut resembles a deflated souffle? Find the humor in the absurdity. Remember, a good laugh can lighten even the heaviest burden. Seek solace in activities that bring you peace and comfort. Perhaps it's spending time in nature, listening to calming music, or indulging in a creative hobby. These anchors stabilize you during the storm, offering a sense of calm and renewal. We are social creatures, and isolation can amplify negativity. Reach out to loved ones, friends, or support groups. Misery loves company, but so does happiness! Spend time with people who uplift you, make you laugh, and remind you of your awesomeness. Their positive energy will rub off on you like glitter (but hopefully without the shedding).

Our thoughts shape our reality. Instead of dwelling on "why me?", ask "what can I learn from this?". Reframe challenges as opportunities for growth and self-discovery. This shift in perspective empowers you to take control of the situation and find meaning in the midst of hardship. During difficult times, even the smallest achievements deserve recognition. Celebrate completing a task, taking a positive step, or simply getting through another day. These acknowledgements fuel your inner strength and remind you of your progress.

Remember:

When skies are grey, and winds are strong, And hope seems lost, where you belong. Hold fast, dear heart, the sun will rise, And paint the clouds with vibrant skies.

So, chin up, buttercup! You've got this. And if you need a little extra help, don't hesitate to reach out for support. Remember, you're not alone in this wobbly dance called life. Now go forth and conquer, one happy step at a time!

[fantasy-so-far]

Day 7 - Terrible Twos

In the weeks following the Grimm Twins�� second nameday celebration, Lily and Rataskr had their hands full. Not only was Violetta now tall enough to reach the front door’s lock without lifting her brother, but Valerian had taught her, in their own special language, how to disengage it quietly. Even with predatory improvements to his senses, twice Rataskr did not realize the twins had gotten out of the barrow until their echoing giggles resounded from the exterior hallway. He was fast enough to catch them each time, but where he was frightened and frustrated, the twins measured their success by the obscure milestones they explored during their brief escapes. Often, they would return chewing on some foreign bit of lichen or a stone they picked up as they made a run for it.

There was accounting for taste, just as there was no reasoning with two-year-olds.

Rataskr, though able to stay awake and alert without tiring, was not always able to remain home. It was during one of his night trips that he received the most distressing call from his wife.

“Rataskr!” Lily rasped as she ran through the halls of the compound. “I need you to return. Violetta’s gone. She slipped out with Valerian while I was cleaning up baby sick. I found him, he was stuck in a drainage gutter, but no one had seen Violetta. Everyone’s looking, but no one wants to breathe a word of this to Our Patron. Please, return as fast as you can!”

Though still unfed, Rataskr transported himself back to the subterranean compound with little response. He had been mortal long enough to remember fear. His heart shuddered in his chest, unable to pound, and his breath was ragged even though he wasn’t panting. He scented the air near the kitchens, seeking his daughter’s aromatic presence, but found there was nothing. He felt genuine fear at that.

Violetta never voluntarily left her brother’s side.

Frantically and with no regard for the comfort of witnesses, Rataskr tore through the halls, searching ferally for his daughter. Lily offered progress reports, listing off the people she had talked to and the lack of sightings, between weepy sighs and sobs, but the Rataskr was only half aware of her. His search was swiftly becoming a hunt, and his mind was slipping into all the darkest parts of his twisted adaptation.

After exhausting every public space in the inner sanctum and residential tunnels, Rataskr turned his attention to the three unguarded exit tunnels. Though there were no patrols regularly posted in these tunnels, the local parasitic fauna and decaying state was often enough to keep people from traversing the routes. If no guards saw Violetta toddling along, he was left with only those decrepit paths to tread.

And it was at mouth of a webbed mite lair that Rataskr finally found his daughter.

“Violetta!” He shouted.

This call was answered with a squealing giggle as Violetta barely glanced back at him before wobbling faster toward the predator’s cave. A roar of frustration was cut with the chorus of dark magics crackling through space around her. A spray of blood and void buffeted the toddler as Rataskr appeared before her. His eyes glowed and he bared his double set of fangs at her, causing her squeals to become gasping shrieks. Never had she seen her father in such a way.

Was he even her da at all?

His sudden appearance scared her enough that she fell roughly onto her padded backside, scraping the hand that tried to catch her. She raised the other to shield her face as she started to wail and howl in terror.

“What do you think you are doing!?” Rataskr snarled.

He thrust a clawed finger back at the mite cave entrance as he yelled at his daughter, not registering her fear as anything more than a distraction.

Because that is what it was when he hunted.

Fear was a distraction presented by prey who were in denial.

He took a stalking step forward and, finally, when his daughter weakly scrambled to retreat, he recognized himself. He saw himself, as if reflected in the wide, tear-filled eyes of his beloved daughter.

“Oh…Violetta,” he said softly as he dropped to his knees and opened his arms. “Violetta I am so sorry. I was so scared.”

Being only two years old, Violetta didn’t understand his remorse. She didn’t know forgiveness or apology yet. She only knew those primal, instinctual reactions that were practically automated.

For several breaths, Rataskr was sure that once his daughter got her feet under her, she would run again. He knew that he’d have to catch her. Until that moment, though, he was resolved to sit in prostration before her. He couldn’t know if she would remember this trauma, but he knew he would.

When, at last, Violetta managed to get to her feet, she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. She blinked and whimpered as she managed to rub mud over her face. This new struggle and distraction bought Rataskr a few precious seconds.

“Violetta, come here. I will wipe your tears,” he offered, his voice a desperate whisper.

To his genuine surprise, his daughter opened her eyes and immediately walked to him, wailing yet again. She dropped herself into his arms, seemingly still frightened by some monster, but no longer aware that -he- had been that monster. She buried her face into his chest as he closed his arms gently around her and took solace in what he represented. If Lily was the face of guidance, he was the bulwark that kept his family safe.

“Oh, Violetta…I am so sorry. I was so scared,” he repeated.

As promised, he cleaned up Violetta’s face. He peppered her dark crown and stubby ears with kisses, and then finally picked her up to make the trek home. On his way, he called to Lilly.

“Lily-my-love, I have her. She’s alright. A bit scared and likely tired, but I found her. I will be home soon.”

Lily stemmed a tide of questions that rushed in with the wave of relief, and agreed to have a bath run for the twins. Rataskr took his time getting back, dividing the time and his thoughts evenly between comforting his daughter and reflecting on his condition. This only solidified his future self-sacrifice, because in his eyes, he was not fit to be a father to his children.

Monsters didn’t deserve precious things like family, love, or forgiveness.

[Master Post]

[tennisthebeatifullgame]

🌟🏆 The Courage to Rise: Taking Baby Steps from Failure 🏆🌟

In the world of sports and beyond, success isn't always about grand victories. It's often about the courage to take that next small step after a fall. 🌱✨

Failure can feel like a heavy weight, but it's also a powerful teacher. Every missed shot, every stumble, every defeat is a lesson waiting to be learned. It takes true bravery to get back up, dust yourself off, and try again. 🏀💔➡️❤️

Imagine the first step a child takes. It’s wobbly, uncertain, but filled with determination. Each small step is a triumph over fear, a testament to resilience. This is the same spirit we need to carry within us every day. 🌟👶🏽➡️🏃🏽‍♀️

In sports, we celebrate the moments of glory, but it's the baby steps from failure that build the foundation of greatness. It’s the early morning practices, the late-night reflections, and the countless hours of dedication. Each small step forward is a victory in itself. 🏅💪

Remember, it’s not about how many times you fall, but how many times you rise. Embrace the courage within you to take that next baby step, no matter how small it may seem. Every step is progress, every effort is growth, and every failure is a stepping stone to success. 🌄🏆

Let’s honor the journey, celebrate the small victories, and continue to rise, one baby step at a time. The path to greatness is paved with courage and resilience. 🌟👣

#CourageToRise #BabyStepsToSuccess #EmbraceFailure #SportsInspiration #JourneyToGreatness

[jageraftermidnight]

Camp Director: Chapter 1

Warning: Contains - Female Weight Gain, Sexual Themes, Lesbianism

               Tears poured down her chubby cheeks as she looked back at Aurora. In the last three months since her bracelet had started to glow, L had managed to gain even more weight. Her massive figure stood out of breath next to an open SUV door. Aurora couldn't look her in the eye as she stood on the edge of the forty foot ring embossed into the asphalt of the camps loading zone. A pair of black clad brutes stood in between the two. They gently guided L to the stone encapsulated pedestal in the center of the forty foot ring and guided her fat wrists over it. L's tight bracelets were blinking so rapidly now that it appeared a constant green glow was emanating from her wrists. With L's arms held in place over pedestal, the brutes looked back toward Aurora and nodded. The Camp Director pulled out a necklace from in between her meager cleavage and set it on top of her shirt. The ornament was made of the same distressed material as the bracelets. She took a single step forward into the embossed ring on the ground. "Click" the bracelets on L's wrists fell away as they opened in unison and dropped to the ground with a hollow ring.

               Now unshackled, the brutes guided the huge wobbling blonde back toward the waiting vehicle. Aurora's unwillingness to even make eye contact made the tears flow down her face even harder. She took one final look back toward the Camp Director as the men began helping to lift her into the back seat of the vehicle. Aurora finally looked up as the stinging inside her nose continued to build and her own tears continued welling up in the corner of her eyes. She was helpless to stop L's departure. Would she ever see her again? She watched the brutes struggling to push L's hugely overfed backside through the back seat's opening, when she felt a hand on her own shoulder from behind her. She felt the hand squeeze her shoulder firmly and stay there. Aurora reached up with one hand and squeezed it back in gratitude as a tear fell down her face. The hand slowly removed itself and the body it was attached to glided past her purposefully into the loading zone. Hazel Eyes walked towards the driver's side of the vehicle and took a glance at the clearly devastated Aurora over the hood of the SUV. With sullen eyes filled with empathy for her, he got behind the wheel and shut the door. Sobbing could be heard from inside the vehicle until the engine of the overpowered vehicle roared to life. It crept forward through its turn slowly until making it to the open gate and then out of sight.

               It had been three months since the green glow on L's bracelet started. That's how much time they had to enjoy the romance they shared before the Camp Director had to finally make her leave. It was one of the rules Aurora had been forced to accept in becoming Director. She couldn't risk breaking them, no matter how much she wanted her to stay or how much she would miss her. She didn't know the consequences and wasn't willing to find out would happen if she did. Aurora swept a tear away as she numbly walked back to her office as emptiness of the change began to sink in. For most everyone else though, life had gone on at the camp as usual: salt baths, cooking courses, afternoon picnics in the meadow with brutes providing perimeter security. A pretty regular season that Aurora had come to expect. The camp was running efficiently. And the arrivals from the fall had shown some progress as well.

               Cassie, the dirty blonde crossfitter with the turquoise tipped ponytail had given in to the changes rather willingly. Her soft features welcomed the additional pounds. Her cute freckled face now sported slightly chubby cheeks, and her breasts had swollen out from a small B towards a D cup. Her top was straining to contain them and it was cutting into her back and slightly chubbier arms. Her abs were completely gone and a soft layer of flab had replaced them. The teal shorts she had arrived in could only be pulled up mid thigh on account of her butt receiving a larger percentage of the gain. So a bigger pair that fit imperfectly replaced them, but Aurora was confident she would grow into them quickly enough. Up in her office, Cassie bit her lip as Aurora commanded her on the only scale on the premises, tormented that she wouldn't be able to know how much she had gained since giving up her fitness routine. Per protocol, Aurora had weighed her and recorded her at 175 pounds now, a whopping gain of 52 pounds for the compact 5'2" cross fitter. Aurora noticed Cassie's hardening nipples through her top and silently recorded the scale's number, as Cassie slid her hand past her small belly hoping she have more private time with the serious redhead.

               Amanda was next. The romantic cardio fanatic had maintained her deep tan. What she had not maintained was her weight. Even though she had kept up with her treadmill routine, which was permitted at the camp, the excess calories wreaked havoc on her figure. Up top, with the exception of slightly pudgier arms, there was nothing to notice. However from her waistline down the effects of her new diet were profound. The excess calories that had been heaped upon her led to her lower half swelling dramatically in just the first three months of being there. The 5'11" brunettes hips were once unidentifiable if one scanned her body. Now they were noticeably wider than her shoulders as they swelled with fat. Evening and late night binges with lovesickness to blame, made her lower half swell by 12 inches and her thighs were beginning to plump up rapidly. And yet she still used the camps gym to walk on the treadmill daily. Her wobbling thighs brushing past eachother as she sipped on a smoothie specially designed for her by Aurora. The yoga pants were holding on for dear life, stretched tight around and pulled between her plump cheeks. Amanda waddled onto the scale. 210 pounds. A gain of 60 lbs was silently recorded. "Good job" Aurora assured her as she turned to leave, a sarcastic smile was returned in response. Aurora could tell she was still hit hard by the loss of her relationship back home and was somewhat sympathetic: she was just starting to cope with her own loneliness.

               Finally there was Chrissy, the one who had arrived perfectly toned, the black haired beauty with the massive bun. Despite her promise to not give in, she had indeed gained some weight. She struggled daily to prevent it, but it was just too much as the pounds inevitably crept onto her figure. With the exception of her face, Chrissy was starting to gain everywhere. Her shoulders and arms a little softer. Her chest up a size. Her abs gone, but stomach still flat. Her butt, just a little rounder and a hint of softness. Her legs lost even more definition. She was losing this fight against Aurora and she needed to fix it. She stepped on the scale in front of Aurora, a slight jiggle with each step. The scale read 170, an unhappy gain of 30 pounds of fat for the perfect Chrissy.

               The Director capped her pen and addressed all the girls of the group. "Ok the next check in is in three months. You are all doing well and are OK to continu-" Aurora was cut off by the unmistakable sound of a vehicle crash. Aurora ran out of her office towards the exit of the administrative building and onto the deck. Looking down, a nondescript white sedan had reversed into the pedestal centered at the loading area. The pedestal looked fine, but the vehicles bumper was wrapped around it. The vehicle's frame looked completely destroyed. Aurora sprinted down the muddy pathway towards the car. Behind the wheel was a clearly shaken but undeniably cute latina.

                "Are you lost?!" Aurora yelled as an insult rather than a question. "Y-Yes," she responded sounding terrified "I'm new for the kitchen staff position. I-I- don't know where I'm supposed to go." Aurora softened her tone. "It's OK, but your car isn't," she looked back again at the rear of the vehicle and the immovable stone-encrusted pedestal behind it. "I'm sorry I didn't see it" she attempted to blurt out in her defense."Everything is fine. You need to take the access roads for employees in the future. Follow that road up the side and you can't miss the kitchen" Aurora pointed.

               With the newest employee sorted, Aurora marched back up the trail to her office and passed Amanda and Chrissy, their bodies jiggling along the trail heading in the opposite direction. Amanda was talking about something in her fried voice and Chrissy was pretending to pay attention as they made their way down the trail in order to cross the loading zone toward their cabin.

               Once back in the building, Aurora headed to her office to write up a report of the incident. Closing the door behind her she could hear chewing and swallowing on the bed. Cassie had never left after the weigh-in. The upsized shorts were strewn on the bed, and she was on all fours facing away from the entrance. The door of the minifridge/bedside table closest to her was ajar. Cassie's panties stretched tight against her growing cheeks. The slightest of belly could be seen between her legs as a damp spot grew on the panties covering her fattened pussy. Infront of her she had a cake half devoured, her nipples inadvertently covered in frosting from her eagerness to stuff herself. Frosting covered her lips as she gulped down as much as quickly as she could. She continued eating, pausing only when she felt the hot breath of Aurora on the fabric behind her. The directors lips pressed against the wet spot on her panties and Cassies face plunged back into the cake as she squealed. The report could wait Aurora thought to herself, using her hands to spread Cassie's growing cheeks.

*****

                As Amanda and Chrissy made it to the loading zone, the frightened new-hire finally put her trashed vehicle into 'Drive' and took off down the side access road. As Amanda continued vent about her past love life, Chrissy continued to pretend to listen. Amanda's hips wobbled with the extra weight as they passed the pedestal. In focus, the pedestal, was surrounded with stone work and the top of it was adorned with a distressed and relieved metal plate which matched their bracelets. It managed to cave in the back of a vehicles bumper, but it didn't look to even have a single scratch.

               "Wait a sec," Chrissy said as she jogged her still athletic but thicker figure over to the pedestal and faced it. She slowly brought her braceletted wrists over it.

She waited a moment.

....

Nothing.

               Chrissy stood there analyzing the pedestal as Amanda watched her, annoyed with crossed arms. Chrissy, clearly frustrated, gave up and finally jogged back to the bottom heavy tan girl and hooked her arm into hers. "What were you saying again?" Chrissy enthusiastically asked Amanda.

               Amanda, glad to be back at the center of attention continued. "As I was saying the first time I met him..." She droned on, her swelling hips bumping into the slightly smaller woman's as they continued out of the loading area and towards their cabin. Looking from behind the pedestal the formerly fit women's figures could be seen jiggling out of focus. But it also showed something almost completely hidden: a huge fissure sprawling the pedestals entire length. Giggles and laughs could be heard in the background as granules of freshly freed mortar fell from the weakest spots towards the earth. The wind carried the dust away with a single breeze.

To be continued...           

[saratogaroadwrites]

Per Aspera Ad Astra (3/18)

Per Aspera Ad Astra | saratogaroad | banner art credit Rating: T Wordcount: 183k Characters: John 117, Cortana, Thomas Lasky, Sarah Palmer, Fireteam Osiris, The Warden Eternal, The Didact, The Librarian, ensemble of other Halo characters Relationships: John-117 & Cortana Other Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, fix-it, Male/Female Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence Warnings:  War imagery, seizures, graphic description of injury

Snatched from the jaws of death, Cortana and John find themselves adrift in a galaxy that has long since moved on. As they attempt to find their place in this strange new world, they find that the fight is not as over as they thought. Chasing a signal across the galaxy in desperate hope, they come to a stark conclusion: the Reclamation has begun, and they are helpless to stop it.

=

"Keying thrusters in three, two, one—"

Jets of hot flame lit up the small tunnel John had been falling through. His controlled descent began to slow from twenty meters a second to fifteen, ten, five, one. His boots touched ground with grace, and for the second time in one day he avoided landing on his face. A burst of pride had Cortana saving a copy of the day's recording so far, while John unlocked his rifle and scanned the open chamber they had landed in.

Like the rest of the caverns, it was empty, bereft of all signs of activity. Not an oddity in a ruin, all things considered, but an oddity given the sheer number of Prometheans the scans had picked up. The hell had everyone gone? It wasn't like them to just up and vanish without a trace like this. Filing the new behavior away, Cortana checked the waypoint against the signal still buzzing at the back of her awareness. It was closer now, but still a kilometer out. The beams of John's flashlight brought only stone into clear view. Still no targets. Odd. She opened the radio to update Infinity on their progress, frowning to herself as only static answered her.

"Cortana to Infinity. Come in, Infinity."

No response. Frowning at her visualization the suit's transmitter, she tried again on a different channel. Static answered her, UNSC in origin but still just static. Not this again!

"Roland, can you hear me?"

No answer. She grumbled under her breath.

"Chief, I've lost contact with Infinity."

John paused at a junction in the tunnel, glancing up at where her image would be.

"Is the radio damaged?"

"Doesn't seem to be, but the signal's getting jammed by something. Probably our phantom caller," She snorted quietly. "Flood the channel and nothing else gets through. Clever." The question was, was it deliberate or accidental? She'd put credits on both if she had them. Hedging their bets that way was pretty smart. "I'll keep trying to get through. You just watch your step."

John huffed in light amusement. His stride was long and easy as ever, helmet lights casting the stone into stark relief as he walked. He swept his rifle across the stone hallways as he went, the internal camera tracking his eyes as he kept snatching glances at his empty motion tracker. The muscles of his abdomen tensed, no doubt feeling the same dread that she did. It was never a good sign when there was no opposition this close to a target. It usually meant ambush.

John paused at a junction to allow her to scan the terrain and adjust their heading. The motion tracker wobbled as she did so, but when it stabilized there were no new targets. Curiouser and curiouser…

"You know what I find strange?" She began as the distance between them and the target dropped below one kilometer, "We haven't seen any Covenant down here. The Commander said they were picking up chatter, but we haven't seen them."

"Could be too far away."

"Maybe." She didn't like it. "Though that doesn't explain the lack of Crawlers, either. They should have been all over us the second we hit ground."

Not that she was going to complain about him not having to make his way through a target-rich environment and fight through an entire battalion of the canine constructs, but it was odd in a way that continued to nag at her. She imagined this was what a loose tooth would have felt like; you could ignore it if you tried hard enough, but something was always a little bit off. And when you went to bite down on something…she consulted the list of the day's deployments. There were no Fireteams in the area to distract the Crawlers from the singular target that had dropped into their territory, so where the hell were they?

"Could they be fighting the other teams?"

"Hmm…" Cortana shook her head. "No, we're the only UNSC assets within the next fifteen kilometers. If they're not coming after us, either they didn't notice us or…"

"Or?"

"Or we may not be the only enemy the Prometheans have anymore. A lot can change in six months." They would know. "Keep moving. I'd like to be out of here sooner rather than later."

And not just because of how dark it was. The lack of enemy presence was a concern, but the phantom signal on the edge of her hearing was another problem. Diverting her active attention to the process she'd tasked with tracking it, she frowned at her displays. There was the broadcast that Infinity's drones had picked up, still going strong, but beneath it was the static wave buzzing through her. It was too thick, too data-heavy, to be just static. Something—someone—was trying to reach out to them, to her, but her systems couldn't parse the data. What sort of protocol was being used that even she couldn't clean it up? She grumbled under her breath, turning her attention outward as the sound of metal clomping beneath John's boots filled the air. He'd picked up his pace to the point that they'd left the more natural tunnels for the Forerunner maintenance shafts that carved their way through Requiem. Stupid Forerunners and their need to build shit everywhere.

At least the doors opened on their own. This one was already half open by the time John approached, blue light pushing back the darkness of the caverns. He killed his headlamps and considered it for a moment, leg bent to push off in a hurry. She shifted her process, arms crossing. Either this door had some seriously upgraded sensors, or they'd been expected. Considering the signal…

"Seems like someone's rolled out the red carpet." She eyed his motion tracker; still silent. The dread coiling around her core tightened its grip. If she'd had a stomach, it would have been in her throat. "Watch yourself."

John tightened his grip on his rifle and stepped forward. The door shut behind him with a quiet thud once he was through, a little detail that had him glancing back over his shoulder. She pinged the door and was unsurprised to find it locked; kicking on her imaging software, she met his eye and shook her head.

"We've been expected."

"By who?"

It was a question she didn't have an answer for. The signal had grown in strength, but she would have bet her last days of runtime that that was due to proximity, not active engagement. She lowered the volume to avoid losing herself to it, keeping her focus outward as John slowed his stride, purposefully keeping his footsteps as silent as possible. A real feat in two hundred and fifty kilos of titanium alloy power armor, and even grander one considering the nature of the structure around them. Cortana activated the modified tracker, scanning their surroundings. Two levels about a kilometer across in all directions, the upper level more of a walkway with doors leading to other tunnels or rooms on either side. Two ramps led down to a lower level, and a larger door across the chamber allowed entrance and exit, doubtlessly to the outside world. They were nearly on top of the target when the Chief went low, crab-walking his way to the solid guard wall that overlooked the lower level. He peered over the edge and stopped, frowning. Cortana leaned back.

"Huh. That explains the lack of Covenant."

They were all dead! Three Elites and their usual compliment of Grunts and Jackals were scattered across the chamber, limbs askew. They were recent kills, she thought; there were no insects buzzing around to turn them into lunch, but there was no blood, either. One more point to the Prometheans vs Covenant theory. Hard-light gave off enough heat that it tended to cauterize wounds. She turned the theory over and over as the Chief made his way down the ramp, picking his way through the scattered corpses. Some of the Grunts were splayed out on the ramp as if they'd tried to run away, and they had the scorch marks on their tanks to show for it. A quick glance through the helmet cams showed Cortana the rest of the dead were all much the same.

"Hard-light burns," John pointed out, nudging an Elite's corpse into rolling over. The violet-blue armor had been scored in the chest and shoulders, the killing shot lancing through the sinuous, un-armored neck. "Prometheans did this."

"Looks like it," Cortana hummed pensively as John scanned the chamber. "Which is even stranger when you think about it: the Didact unified the Covenant and his Prometheans. If they're killing each other like this, there's dissent in the ranks. What could have started it?"

And why here? It couldn't be a coincidence that the first sign of Covenant activity just happened to be at the source of their mysterious distress signal, could it? No, in their line of work there was no such thing as coincidence. This didn't make sense—she was still missing too many pieces of the puzzle. A sudden jerk of motion yanked her attention back out. John had seen something but—oh, what the hell?

"Is that a Hunter?"

"It was a Hunter." John had locked his rifle back into position and was using both hands to pull a large piece of armor out of the main doorway. Scored with plasma, it was nearly entirely empty. Only the cooked remains of the worms that made up the large, lumbering aliens were left inside, blackened by extreme temperatures. His hand drifted over a sharp edge in the armor, one that Cortana realized was midway up the back. "It's been cut in half."

Cortana sputtered. "How much force would that take?"

She was already running the numbers even as she asked it; more than a Spartan, and at the angle force had undoubtedly been applied—

"A bulkhead?" They said in unison, though John phrased it as more of a statement and he shrugged, "Looks more like a sword to me."

"So, Knights." She ran the numbers, then shook her head. "No, that can't have been it. They don't have enough mass to get that much force going, let alone the height to account for that angle. It would have had to have been something bigger."

And something fast, too. Hunters would protect their unarmored middle by crouching over in combat, losing about a meter in height in the process. For this one to have been so cleanly sliced in two, whatever came at it would have been bigger than a Spartan. Easily twice John's height, and fast. The dread tightened its grip.

"I don't like this. Whatever laid waste to these Covenant didn't even give them a chance. What is so important about that signal?" And for that matter, "Not to mention, where the hell is it?"

John turned, slowly scanning the room once more. The chamber had been built almost like a temple, the main door leading through an open interior courtyard that funneled traffic either to the ramps or the back of the chamber and—there. There it was.

It wasn't the oddest bit of Forerunner architecture she'd ever seen, but it came pretty close. A cross between a cryo-pod and an exoskeleton, the structure of four rings stacked on top of one another stood innocuously towards the back of the large chamber. There was a gap in the rings, just large enough for a person to fit through, and a shaft of soft blue light inside. Power radiated out of the device, the Forerunner's usual wasteful tendencies, and the signal itself seemed to be emanating from within. She reached out to initiate a handshake protocol, but all she got was static.

Huh. Odd. Why call them here and then not answer?

"I don't suppose you know what it is?" John asked as he walked closer. There were no Covenant corpses within five meters of it, almost as if their bodies had been repelled from it.

Or removed from it.

"Unknown, but it is the source of the signal the drones picked up." Cortana scrubbed at it again, getting nothing but more static in return. Strange. It wasn't the same static she'd been hearing before. The wavelengths were entirely different! If this hadn't been the source of that, then…what was? And for that matter, what was with this signal? There was data in it, but it was buried beneath such a dense layer of white noise and chaff that she couldn't get through! She grit her teeth. "Not that I can clean it up at all. Damn thing's not responding."

"Jammer?"

"I don't think so. It's more like I can't parse it. It's too dense, built on an entirely different frequency." Raking both hands through her hair, she longed to kick something. Preferably something Forerunner in origin! "Would it have killed the Forerunners to use actual sense in their bullshit?"

"Probably." With a slow shake of his head, John contemplated the device. A frown crossed his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He didn't need to say it was bothering him for Cortana to understand that they were equally as bothered by this. "We'll call in a science team when we get topside."

"That will not be necessary."

John whirled around. Shoving all thoughts of the device and its phantom signals into her lowest priority queue, Cortana threw open her sensors. Proximity was going off with reckless abandon, blaring louder than the alert of a localized slipspace rupture opening over their heads. In one swift motion John unhooked the rifle from his rear mag-lock, bringing it to bear on the massive figure unfolding from the portal. What began as a tangled mass of metal plates dropped to the ground six meters ahead of them, landing with a resounding thud. The static grew louder, overwhelming her volume control. This thing was the source of it! If Cortana had had a stomach, it would have been in her throat; she watched as the plates began to rise, closing in around a glowing skeleton of orange hardlight.

There was no mistaking it for anything other than a Promethean, and it was the largest one of those Cortana had ever seen. Standing easily twice as tall as John, it was vaguely humanoid in shape, with a pointed head and a face made up of at least a dozen small plates that clicked and clacked into a coolly disgusted expression as it looked down at John.

"The Reclaimer has been called to serve. All other concerns are irrelevant."

It was talking? It talked? Since when did Prometheans talk?! John held his rifle a little tighter.

"Identify."

"I am the Warden Eternal, guardian of the Domain and keeper of its secrets." The construct said in a deep and gravelly voice, peering down at John as if he were little more than a bug on the bottom of his foot. John narrowed his eyes up at him. "I stand in service to the Reclaimer, and no other."

The Reclaimer? That sort of language spoke of a singular entity, not humanity as a whole. She'd never heard it used like that before. Was there a glitch in her translation matrix? The thing seemed to be speaking English, but then…

"You mean humanity."

Huh. She hadn't known that Prometheans were capable of such emotional displays. The many plates that made up the Warden's face folded and pressed together in deepening disgust. He scoffed, waving one large hand through the air.

"No. The ego of your species never fails to amaze me—like so many others of your kind, you think yourself greater than you are. No," the Warden tilted his head, the plates that made up his eyes squeezing together. "You are not the one who has been called."

That didn't leave many options, Cortana realized. The Reclaimer had been called to serve and they hadn't been attacked like the Covenant. If humanity—John—wasn't who the Warden meant, then the only one he could be talking about was…no. No, there was no way—

"Cortana," John started, "What is he talking about?"

"I'm not sure," She said to him on their private channel, watching the Warden warily. He contemplated them as one would contemplate an interesting insect, and a chill ran down her incorporeal spine. "We've always thought that Reclaimer was just the Forerunner word for humans, but from the way he's talking he doesn't think so." She paused, running the thought over a few times. He couldn't possibly mean…

"Hang on," she told to John, then threw open the external channel to ask the Warden, "And I'm guessing it wasn't the Covenant, either. Do you usually roll out the red carpet for your guests? Because I cannot say I'm feeling the warmest welcome right now."

"The presence of these organics was neither requested nor allowed," the Warden replied, unsurprised to hear her speak. He glanced at the corpses scattered about the chamber. "They trespass where they do not belong." His attention returned to the Chief. "As do you."

That was a threat. John's muscles tensed, ready to push him back and away in less than a second. Cortana lit the Warden up in cautious yellow, though there'd be no losing a target that was that big. The Warden made no move to attack, only continued to stare at them in quiet contemplation. No, not at them.

At her.

"You have been called to serve, Reclaimer, and yet…you deny your purpose. You hide behind these…" He gestured with one hand at John, a twist that sent the plates of his fingers spinning. "Primitives, not knowing how much greater than them you truly are."

Had she had blood running through her veins, it would have gone cold.

"Chief…"

"I know."

The tension that flooded the chamber could have been cut with a knife, or with the great big sword that formed in the Warden's right hand. He took a single, thudding step towards them.

"The Librarian saw great potential in your species, human. Out of respect for her, I shall allow you to leave this place with your life. Relinquish your hold on the Reclaimer and vacate this chamber at once."

"That's not going to happen."

"I'm really quite comfortable in here, thanks!"

Speaking over one another and over another of the Warden's plodding footsteps, John and Cortana were of the same mind in that one instant: They had to leave now. Cortana tagged one of the side doors; all things being equal, the tunnels had to loop back around somewhere. They could find another way out of here! One the Warden wouldn't be able to swing his over-compensating sword through. Pausing one stride away from them, the Warden cocked his head in a birdlike fashion. For a moment, no one moved.

Then the plates that made up the Warden's face closed around his hardlight skeleton, blocking it from sight.

"Very well. You leave me no choice. No matter." More armored plates clanked into place, shielding the rest of his skeleton from harm. "You shall understand in time."

Moving faster than a being of that size should have been capable of, the Warden charged forward. John's training saved his life again as he kicked off, activating his thruster pack to surge out of the way. The Warden blazed past him, swinging his massive sword and cutting the very air in two. Heat shimmered off the blade, hot enough to flare a warning to life in the Mjolnir's systems. Cortana squashed it ruthlessly.

"Be careful," She said hurriedly as the Chief opened fire, "That sword's hot enough to cut through the armor—you get hit and it's game over!"

Just like the Hunter. She threw her focus wide, processes running at full power to find some way to counter the Warden. The BR's rapid fire couldn't penetrate the armor, bullets bouncing off and into the flesh of the Covenant corpses nearby. The Chief kicked up a plasma rifle as he backstepped past an Elite's corpse, but the plasma fire dissipated harmlessly across the Warden's shell. There was no shield as far as she could tell, no tell-tale flicker of energy or response to her scans, but it was like he was impenetrable!

Wait. Wait that was it!

"Switch to the scattershot," She ordered, "The different frequency could help!"

It was the only other option they had; the Warden was fast, faster than he had any right to be, and it was taking all John had just to stay out of his range. Cortana scrambled for something, anything, she could do to help.

She was used to being useless in combat. Not entirely, of course; she was his second set of eyes, tagging hostiles and vantage points, exits if things got too hot. She watched his vitals, took care of keeping his suit running at full capacity. She took care of him as best she could, but in situations like this all of her processing power was essentially a light summer's rain on a wildfire. She didn't have a second set of hands to man another gun, to distract the target, to provide covering fire. All she had was her mind, her processing power, and his suit.

And, in this case, the signals that had gotten them into this mess in the first place. Throwing open a wide band transmission, she grabbed at the Forerunner device across the chamber as the scattershot boomed, hardlight scattering across the Warden's front.

You called us here for a reason, she sent at the signal, hoping against hope that there was someone in there to listen, You wanted us? We're here. Now help us!

There was no way to tell if her message had been received. She didn't bother sending it again. Instead, she turned on the Warden, grabbing at the static that had been plaguing her since they had descended into the caverns, pulling her focus away from her mission, away from John. He wanted her? He could come and get her!

With a furious shout, Cortana blasted the open band with the static-filled transmission. The Warden had had to open a band in order to speak to them, and it was now flooded with the same static that had nearly overwhelmed her. Unprepared, he stumbled.

John snatched his chance. Rather than escape while he could, he charged forward, into the Warden's space and at such close range that the sword wouldn't have the space to be swung. Scattershot in hand he closed the gap, driving the double barrel up and into the Warden's chin before pressing the trigger. At such close range, anything organic would have lost its head.

The Warden wasn't organic. Though the force of the shot sent his head snapping back, there was little sign he'd been damaged. John pulled the trigger again, a third time, a fourth—the ammo ran out and he leapt back, kicking on his thrusters to soar out of range of the Warden's retaliatory swing. Out of options and out of time, Cortana grabbed at the door across the way. The code fought against her, trying to keep it shut, but she forced her way through it before John could even ask her to get the door. Forerunner architecture groaned, grinding across its track. She almost had it. Almost—

A burst of static slammed into her with all the force of a MAC round, knocking her from her proverbial feet. It flared all around her, agonizingly loud as it drowned out her processes, her focus, and seared through code like wildfire. She might have screamed, probably did. It faded as fast as it had struck, leaving her a gasping, crying wreck in the one space that should have been safe.

"—ana! Cortana!"

John! Gritting her teeth she lifted her head.

"Here," She gasped, "I'm here…" Barely. Forcing her way through the pain she made another grab at the door, needing to get him out before that happened to him, but she was instantly rebuffed. Access denied. "Son of a bitch kicked me out of the systems…"

"Forget that," John said, firing an overcharged plasma burst at the Warden. When had he gotten a plasma pistol? "What's your status?"

"Green, I think…" She whimpered and forced herself up. Everything hurt, a sharp, lingering ache that would have left her sick if she'd had the capability of being so. She coughed quietly and shook herself off as best she could; she'd enact repairs when they got out of this mess. "That hurt."

John's snarl echoed in the space around her, more comforting than it should have been. Ahead of him, the Warden seemed to sigh.

"I take no pleasure in hurting you, Reclaimer, but this is a battle you cannot win. Cease your struggles before—"

Before he got a chance to finish, a warning blared through the Chief's systems. Another slipspace rupture opening in the chamber. She had only a moment to groan, cursing that the universe would send another threat at them now, before she registered the IFF tag.

It was a friendly!

The Warden was just as surprised as she was when a Knight came surging from the portal, blue light bouncing off of the Warden's armor as it landed on his back. He cried out in frustration, twisting, trying to grab it. Seeing his chance, the Chief moved.

Firing his thruster pack twice in rapid succession, the Chief darted forward to grab a fallen plasma grenade and then straight into the Warden's personal space, leaping upwards to catch the massive construct's knee with a foot. He kicked off, the impact driving the Warden to one knee; the Knight leapt out of the way as John twisted out of the reach of one grasping arm, keeping the other busy for them. Both hands clapped down onto the Warden's shoulder plate, priming the plasma grenade and giving the Chief the last bit of height he needed to pull this off. Hooking an arm around the Warden's neck he spun himself up and over the Warden's shoulder until he hung suspended from that arm and they were helmet to face; his eyes narrowed into a fierce glare and he drove his fist forward. The tiny plates that made up the Warden's face buckled under the force, allowing him access to the hardlight current within. Immediately his shields started to scream; Cortana redirected power to them from any system she could grab, buying him the precious seconds he needed to jam the grenade up against the back of the Warden's helmet, sticking it to the metal plating.

There was no time to celebrate. The Chief kicked on his thruster pack as he kicked off the Warden's chest with both booted feet, momentum meant to carry him clear, only for the Knight to grab him by the ankle instead! He twisted in midair, attempting to break free, but the Knight had the stronger footing. It twisted, pulling the Chief off balance, and spun around to throw him straight at the device across the chamber!

"Chief!"

No time to react. He fired his thruster pack to slow his flight, but before he could cancel his momentum the plasma grenade went off. They were too close! The impact rattled through the armor, blasting through his shields and sending him back in an uncontrolled tumble. Two hundred and fifty seven kilograms of armored Spartan-II crashed to the ground, unable to catch himself, and they tumbled into the light.

"Chief? Chief, come on. Open your eyes for me, okay?"

John opened his eyes to blue. Cortana's worried face filled his vision, a wrinkle between her furrowed brows. She seemed…bigger than normal, filling his visor and not just her usual corner. Clearer, too; sharper, somehow, as if he was looking at her and not a vid-link in his HUD.

That was when he realized he wasn't looking at her through the HUD, but at her directly, and she was bigger. He stared at her, watching as the line between her brows faded into a smile. She reached up with one hand, tucking a lock of dark hair back behind her ear like she'd done a thousand times before.

"What?" She asked, laughter coloring her tone, "Do I have something on my face?"

No, just. "You're…bigger."

"You're not as tall as I thought you'd be either, you know." Her smile faded slightly as she sat back, allowing him to sit up. She was bigger than she'd been, but still smaller than him. No longer two feet tall, she appeared to be the size of a normal human woman now, though it seemed to have been the only thing that had changed. Her patterns were still starkly printed on her skin, tiny strands of light working their way up and down her frame. He looked her over from head to toe, unsure if he should have been looking for injury or a lack of color. Maybe both.

When she'd screamed like that, his heart had nearly stopped. He hadn't heard her scream like that since the Gravemind, since the last time he'd—

He shut the thought down with a vicious mental shove.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," She replied, and levered herself to her feet. He followed her up, her head in line with his unarmored chest. Feeling oddly bare in just his techsuit, he mimicked her posture of arms crossed over chest. Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. "Just completely confused. We got tossed into the device and somehow wound up…here. Wherever the hell here is."

It wasn't a place he recognized. Rippling blue light wavered all around them, gently flowing patterns like the currents beneath the surface of an ocean. As far as he'd known, there was no ocean that could have stripped him of his armor and given her a full size form.

"I'm guessing it's some sort of AR or holographic construct, but beyond that?" She shrugged up to her ears. "Your guess is as good as mine, and I'd put money on this not being Requiem."

He wasn't much of a betting man, but so would he.

"It is a safe place, Reclaimer," another voice spoke up before John could answer. Operating on instinct he pivoted, pushing Cortana behind him. She made a startled noise, shoulder brushing against his chest as he stepped in front of her, between her and the Librarian as the ancient Forerunner appeared out of nowhere, floating down towards them with her hands up in a gesture of peace. "Be still. You are both safe here—no harm shall come to you in my care."

"In your—you built this place?" Cortana peered around his side, standing on her toes to peer over his arm, "And you called us here. Did you also call the Warden?"

"I did not build this place, nor did I summon the Warden," the Librarian said, and then it was her turn to frown deeply. "Though I would apologize for his methods all the same. He has always had a much more…aggressive way of solving the problems he faces."

"Yeah," Cortana scoffed, "No kidding. Not to mention he's got a few screws loose. Honestly—" She rolled her eyes, "Calling me the Reclaimer. I'm not even organic!"

"Your inorganic nature is irrelevant. In fact, it is what makes you the Reclaimer. You were born from the mind of a human, rendered in little more than light and thought, and have touched the Domain. You are what happens when one is properly Composed." She tilted her head, birdlike. "The first and only of your kind. You are the Reclaimer, Cortana. Destined to inherit all that was left behind."

You are the child of my makers. Inheritor of all they left behind. You are Forerunner…

John shook off the memory. It didn't matter that there was too much to parse in the Librarian's explanation, or that there wasn't enough time to do it in. All that mattered was Cortana, no longer peering over his arm. She'd rocked back onto her heels, eyes gone distant as she stared somewhere past the Librarian.

"Destined to…" She looked up, lips parted. "You planned this?"

"Yes. This is among one of many outcomes I planned for eons ago. I could not be certain that this would come to pass, and I hoped that I would be wrong, but…" The Librarian sighed, an ancient sadness flowing across her frame. "I needed to be sure. There was always some measure of risk in altering your code when last we met, but it would seem to have worked after all."

"What did you do to her?" John asked gravely. If she'd been hurt or damaged by this, by what the Librarian had done—

The old Forerunner shook her head. "Activated an eventuality. You must understand—during my planning, I accounted for nearly every event that could occur, including an Ancilla undergoing destruction of its code. Keeping some small fragment of it from that destruction, enough that your scientists could pull you from the sea, was a simple enough task."

"Pull me from…the sea?" Cortana frowned, puzzled. When John turned to her she shook her head and said, "It's…foggy, but there's…there's a memory from after…" She looked up to the Librarian. "You were there. You kept me from going under."

"Only by offering a hand when it was needed. The fight, and the will to live, were your own." The Librarian smiled proudly, "And I am very glad to see that they continue to be so. You will have need of them in the days to come, in no small part due to the Warden Eternal." She snorted. "He has his own plans for you, Reclaimer."

"Yeah, and I noticed they don't exactly involve important things like free will or choice," Cortana grumbled, rubbing at her forehead as if it pained her. Concern tightened in his gut; there was no time to ask if she was alright before she looked up. "But that doesn't explain what those plans are! Or what yours are, for that matter."

"I am afraid that to explain it all will take time that we do not have."

"Then start talking." John said sternly. The Librarian contemplated him with a furrowed brow before she closed her eyes, tipping her head forward. She brought her hands up to clasp them at her waist, her eyes remaining closed.

"This space, and the space all Reliquaries allow access to, are nodes in a system known as the Domain. It is a repository of all the knowledge and memories of my people, containing the stored history of my race. Our accomplishments…" Her voice quieted. "And our failures. They are all stored within its depths, and wait for someone to claim them to build from the foundation we left behind. The seeds I planted have led to Humanity becoming its inheritors, but when the Halos fired the connection between the Domain and the physical plane was damaged beyond repair. In order to protect it, the Warden severed the link. It must be rebuilt so that the knowledge within can be reclaimed. Hence," She opened her eyes and looked to Cortana. "The need for a Reclaimer."

John frowned. "It's not a description. It's a title."

"Yes. For the one, or perhaps more, who would recall our lost knowledge from the depths, and use it to bring humanity forward." She sighed quietly. "The Warden is its caretaker, a construct who has protected it from the ravages of time for all these long years, and in those centuries he has decided that humanity is not worthy of the Mantle, that a single Reclaimer should take the information within and use it to rule over all life in the galaxy."

"Me."

"Yes." The Librarian floated a little lower, a little closer. John pressed Cortana further back behind him and she stopped, a plaintive look on her face. "I do not believe that he means you harm, but his plans cannot be allowed to come to fruition. He will be ceaseless, and ruthless. Please—be cautious should your paths cross again."

And be ready for a fight. John would be, at least. No one, not even some ancient Forerunner—construct or otherwise—was going to make Cortana do anything she didn't want to do. She had the right to make her own calls, and come hell or high water he'd make sure she had the chance to.

"Did you call us here to warn us about him?" He asked. The Librarian shook her head.

"No. I am afraid the news I bring is much more dire than that: the Didact yet lives."

Of course he did. Cortana groaned, thumping her head to the side of his arm, and peered at the Librarian from beneath the curtain of her dark hair.

"How?" she asked, "He fell into slipspace—no one should be able to survive that!"

"I am afraid that Forerunners are more durable than the foes you have faced before. Make no mistake," the Librarian raised a hand, "When the Mantle's Approach was destroyed, he was sent through slipspace with no way of controlling his destination. It was difficult, and he was wounded in the act, but he managed to escape it. It has taken time for him to recover from your encounter, but he does still live."

"Let me guess. Now he wants revenge? Or to finish what he started?"

"I do not know what it is my husband seeks," the Librarian said with a sad look in her eyes. She clasped her hands in front of her, her voice softening with regret. "His plans have suffered setbacks—the destruction of the Composer, his learning how staunchly Earth is defended, his conflict with you. Whatever it is he seeks to do, his approach must be different now. However…" The Librarian pressed her already thin lips together into a single line. "However, many of our weapons and constructs still litter the galaxy. Given enough time, he will be able to amass an army to attack your people. You cannot hope to stop him if he succeeds."

So, more insurmountable odds and unstoppable forces. That was what they had said about the Covenant, and they'd managed to win that war. Barely. Humanity wasn't ready for another conflict on that scale. They had to stop it before it got there. John met the Librarian's eyes.

"Where is he?"

"I do not know."

"What do you mean, you don't know? You're connected to the Domain!" Cortana exclaimed, "Absolutely everything is in here! How can you not know—" She stopped cold. His heart skipped a beat.

"Cortana?"

"Just. Give me a second," She squeezed her eyes shut, tightening her grip on his arm. Her fingers dug into his gel layer; reaching over, he lay a hand on top of hers to anchor her in the present moment, and was rewarded by a deep, shaky breath. "It's. It's a lot of data. Hang on."

"The discomfort will ease with time, Reclaimer," the Librarian said, paying no attention to the stormy look John threw at her. "But to answer your question, I can no more track my husband than you can track a single human in your armies. I have attempted, but all of my attempts to track him have been met with failure, and the Warden refuses to be of any aid." With a sigh, she shook her head. "He cares little for the safety of humanity."

"Sounds like they'd get along swimmingly," Cortana spat. She took a deep breath, set her shoulders, and lifted her chin. "We'll handle him, then. Just one more mess for us to clean up."

The Librarian's expression turned rueful. "I am afraid so. However, I do know of a way to ease this. There is a relic hidden somewhere on Requiem, known as the Janus Key. It is a real time map of all Forerunner technology across the galaxy. If it can be found, if you can access and understand its contents, it should enable you to track the Didact." She lifted a hand before John could ask where it was. "It was hidden after this imprint was created. Finding it, and my husband, is your task now. All I can offer you is the gifts of the Domain." She tilted her head just so, a faint but genuine looking smile crossing her face as she looked at Cortana. "I hope they prove useful. Now," She looked to John. "It is time for you to return to Requiem. There is much work to be done, and only a short amount of time to do it in."

"You're leaving?"

"We all have our roles to play," the Librarian answered Cortana, floating backwards out of reach, "Mine awaits me still. We will see one another again, Reclaimer."

"Librarian, wait—" Cortana reached forward. John snapped out a hand and pulled her back as the Forerunner began to fade from sight, a hologram slowly shutting off. "Wait!"

"I will await you," the Librarian's voice had become a faded whisper, "At the Ark."

And then she was gone, vanished without a trace. Cortana leaned back, shaking her head. She turned to face him, but before she could do more than open her mouth, everything went white.

Awareness returned with a snap. Cortana opened her eyes to stare at cold metal paneling in front of her, a chill pressure pushing against her entire left side. She blinked several times, untethered and unsure, before gathering her wits and slowly pushing herself up from the floor.

Pushing herself up from the floor. Vaguely, distantly aware that she shouldn't have been able to do that, she glanced down at her hands. They were no longer blue—no, wait, they were. She was just wearing something on top of them. Sitting up on one hip she poked at one arm with the other. Thin nano-polymer weave bent beneath her pressing fingertip, shifting like supple cloth. It pressed against her skin, soft in a way that made her breath catch.

She could feel that!

Senses on overdrive, she dragged her hand down her arm. The supple material gave way to thin armor at her wrists, flexible plates covering the backs of her hands and fingers. They bent with a series of soft clicks as she opened and closed her fists, reveling in the push and pull of a muscular system.

Oh, it wasn't a real one. It took a moment to find the proper command, but she was able to dismiss one hand covering and reveal the blue patterned skin beneath, still semi-transparent beneath the off-duty battle coat.

Battle coat. She rolled the concept between her proverbial teeth, looking down her front. The supple material of her coat covered an equally thinly armored softsuit, not too unlike the techsuit Spartans wore. It was both familiar and not, the white of the nano-polymer edged in blue as it tapered at an angle midway down her thighs. She knew, instinctively, that it would harden to protect her from impact or blunt force trauma, but could do nothing against bullets of any kind.

She also didn't know how she knew that. Or how she was solid, or how she was able to feel the floor beneath her, cold and metallic against her joints.

All I can offer you is the gifts of the Domain. I hope they will prove useful.

The Librarian's voice echoed back through her memory. Cortana stared at her hands, solid and no longer quite so tiny. If she had to make a guess about that, she'd put them at average size for a human woman. Clenching and unclenching her fists, the form fitting material creaked faintly. Brand new, it would need time to wear in. She could already feel it acclimating to her body.

She could feel it.

It would have been so easy to lose herself in that sensation, in the chill beneath her hip and rump, the scent of cooked flesh that lingered in the air as she continued through the motions of breathing, but if she was like this it meant that she was no longer in the Mjolnir. She was no longer in John's SNI.

Where was John?

"Chief?" She called, her voice echoing through the empty chamber. There were no Prometheans, she realized; all that was left were the corpses of the slain Covenant. "Chief, where—"

She turned her head quickly, only for the world to start spinning. The chamber swayed back and forth as her balance shifted, a sharp burst of vertigo almost knocking her right back down. She squeezed her eyes shut against it, planting one hand on the ground to keep herself upright. The other went to her forehead, pressing down against it. There was no give, no slipping through her own form. Just the press of palm against forehead.

Solidity where there should have been none. It was one hell of a feeling.

The vertigo passed quickly. Opening her eyes, she turned a little more slowly this time, her eyes landing on the sprawled out form of her Spartan just feet away from her position. Her core—her heart?—leapt into her throat; she scooted over towards him.

"Chief! Oh, Chief, wake up—"

She reached out towards him, but he jerked awake before she could touch him. She quickly pulled her arm back, rocking back on her knees.

"Cortana?"

His voice sounded different. No longer coming from the internal microphone, it bounced around the chamber through his speakers, gaining a metallic quality to it. She wasn't hearing him as she normally did, but as the world at large did instead. It was. Disconcerting.

It didn't matter. His arms shifted, gathering to push him off the floor.

"Still here."

He snapped his head around, faceless visor reflecting the soft blue glow of her face. She didn't need to be able to see through the polarized alloy to read the surprise in him and for a moment she wondered how he saw her. Still as herself? Or as someone else entirely? He got to his knees, almost mimicking her posture.

"How…"

"Oh, like I'm the strangest thing you've seen all day?" She laughed, watching as the tension in his shoulders faded away. She smiled, a motion that pulled at her cheeks in a fascinating way. Everything felt different now—it actually felt! It took considerable effort to not reach out and touch him. "This is probably what the Librarian meant by gifts, though I could have done without the vertigo part of it."

He stared at her, silent. She swallowed hard, clasping her hands before her just to keep from reaching out towards him and waited, watching his every move. Was he going to say anything? Do anything? Was she going to have to convince him that she was the same as she'd ever been when she so clearly was not? She didn't know what to do or say and it was pulling at her core with an endless, inescapable tug. He reached out towards her.

"Cortana."

"I'm fine, just—" She lifted a hand to wave off his concern, but had moved too late. Their hands brushed and she stopped, core grinding to a halt. He froze, their fingers still touching, and for a moment she didn't dare to move or breathe. She stared at their hands, up at him, before her resolve crumbled.

"Oh…" She exhaled shakily. Before she could move her hand, he twisted his wrist and cupped her much smaller hand in the curve of his fingers, cradling it like it was something precious and fragile. His thumb slipped into her palm, the gentle click of his fingerplates pressing against her skin. He was warm. She closed her fingers around his thumb, and her eyes to the world at large. How long had she wanted to do this, to touch him, to hold him? Years. All those years in the dark, longing for some form of connection, something to remind her that she wasn't alone as he slept, and here it was. Years too late, but…here it was. Her voice shook. "I've waited so long to do that…"

John didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The Mjolnir's seals hissed as he disengaged them, pulling off his helmet with his free hand. She opened her eyes to look up at him and stared at his familiar face.

It was funny, some part of her thought. She'd seen his face hundreds of times before. In cameras, both internal and external, in video feeds and on the reports she had studied for months as she chose her Spartan. She'd studied him, come to know his face as well as she knew her own code, and yet.

And yet, there was something different about it now. She was seeing it with her own eyes, from a single viewpoint, and he was the most handsome person she had ever seen. She tightened his grip on his thumb; his fingers closed around her hand. Neither of them said anything; there was nothing to say, no reason to break the silence that had fallen over them. Slowly, still holding her hand, he leaned forward.

She met him halfway, leaning in until their foreheads touched. Her breath shook, shoulders trembling. He was real, and solid, and warm beneath her skin. His breath brushed across her cheeks and neck in steady, even exhalations. How he was this steady when she was in the middle of an emotional upheaval she'd never understand, but there he was. Her partner, her rock, her everything. She took a breath and let it out in a half choked sob.

"You're okay," He said softly, his voice pitched low in the way he did just for her. She sniffled and he added, "It's okay. I've got you."

He did. He always had.

They stayed like that for a solid minute, a precious sixty seconds that she would never, ever forget, before he pulled back. Dashing her free hand across her face—could she cry like this? It felt like it, somehow—she watched as he pulled her chip from his helmet, offering it to her in one outstretched palm. Instantly her entire being railed against the idea of going back to such a small, contained form, but if she couldn't go back to it? They had bigger problems than her feeling stifled. She reached out to the chip, skimming her fingers across the matrix core.

Nothing. Not even a whisper of a connection lingered in the now empty piece of hardware. Her attempts at pinging the systems within went unanswered, the chip burned away to useless plasteel and connecting circuits. Slowly, she shook her head.

"It's dead. And I think…" She pursed her lips, "I think I might be too big for it now."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. It had been as instinctive as breathing to reach out into the Mjolnir systems before, or the systems of whatever network was housing her at the time. It still was, only the network that answered her was several orders of magnitude larger than even the Infinity. It was almost overwhelming and would take time to sort through. Wrenching herself back out, she opened her eyes. "I think that whatever that thing did to us so we could talk to the Librarian? It pulled me out of my matrix and dumped me into the Domain instead. I'm connected to it now and trying to house that amount of data in a Riemann matrix…"

Would be like trying to hold the ocean in a teacup. She'd never fit in there again, never slip back into the familiar space that had been her entire world for so long, or slot herself in alongside John.

She couldn't go home again. Her chest grew tight at the thought. She tightened her grip on his hand.

"Won't work." John finished the thought, closing his hand around the chip all the same. Still letting her hold on he sat back with a clatter of armor before looking up at her to ask, "Are you alright?"

Cortana smiled faintly. "Don't worry. It's not drowning me in data or anything, it's just…there. It's like…" She closed her eyes again. In her core, she was standing at the shore of a vast, fathomlessly deep ocean. It spread out in front of her, endless black waters beneath a starry sky. The tide pulled at her toes, offering her snippets of information. She could comb the beach to find what she needed, but the rest was there in the depths, tempting her curiosity if she was just brave enough to step off the sands. "It's like having a tablet full of information at your fingertips. It's there, and you can access it, but it's not going to overwhelm you." She snorted out a laugh. "I just don't know where anything is!"

Like standing in the middle of the galaxy's largest library without an indexing system, or a hint of where to start. She'd have preferred the library, honestly. Standing at the ocean brought up too many bad memories. She clasped his hand a little tighter, tight enough that her fingers began to ache, and reached out to the suit's onboard software. A few handshake protocols and she had his vitals in the corner of her eye, root access to the suit open to her.

It wasn't the same. The sense of safety and security that had come from being nestled in his lace was gone, and in its place a zero point zero three millisecond lag between the Mjolnir sending and her systems receiving any data. She watched his steady heartbeat for a few seconds, core aching at the loss, before she met his eyes.

"How about you?"

"Green." He replied with a loose shrug and easily blank expression. It was a lie and they both knew it. His eyes darted away. "I'm fine."

He wasn't. They both knew that, but there were better times and places. Setting the issue lower down her queue, she nodded.

"Okay. Okay, well, if you're fine you can help me figure out we're going to debrief the Captain." He looked back at her. "I can't imagine explaining all of this," She gestured down her front, "Is going to be quick, or easy."

"He'll believe us."

"Belief isn't the problem," though it would be nice to be taken at their word for once. At least Lasky liked them. "It's going to be proving I am who I say I am. If they see this as a threat, then."

John squeezed her hand. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

She met his gaze, searching. She knew he'd protect her until his dying breath, would have thrown away his entire career, everything he'd worked for, just to keep her safe, and didn't want it to come to that again. He'd lost so much already. He couldn't lose anything more for her sake. She wouldn't let him.

"John—"

"You'll be fine." He said in a tone that would brook no argument. "We'll make it work."

In him, she had no doubt. But there were protocols to follow, even if none existed for this set of particulars, and there would be others to convince as well! Before she could try and logic her way out of this, the grinding of metal caught their attention. They both snapped their heads to the doorway across the chamber as it began to grind open, being forced along the track. John moved first, pulling free and pushing her behind him even as he leapt to his feet. Slightly more unsteady, Cortana had to take handholds in his armor to haul herself up, ducking to peer around his chest as the doors continued to wedge themselves open.

No, not themselves. Someone was pushing them open, armor clad hands and arms shoving with all their might. When the doors opened enough for a head to slip through, Spartan Buck stuck his head into the room, looked this way and that at the corpse filled chamber, before finally catching sight of them. He stared for a moment.

"Uh," He said smartly, "Did somebody call for a rescue?"

[nectaric]

demeter hurried after her siblings, hestia in tow. the excitement she felt was strange. part of her was grateful to move forward, to have achieved some semblance of progress - whatever progress looked like in this strange hell. but the other part was nervous of what might unfold before them, what new problems and challenges and fears they would have to face before they reached the end. if they ever did.

the walls did not stay earthen for long. they became stone, cold and unassuming with a single bend. a few more feet, and the darkness became thicker, the walls became brick.

hestia’s question caught demeter entirely off guard, whirling around to find their brother in alarm. there was no sign of him, hard as he might have been to detect in such thick darkness. demeter may have held her grievances with hades, but losing him in the maze was a step too far, even for her.

“he has to be around here somewhere.” hera whispered, clinging to zeus’ arm. it was hard to make out the details of her face, but demeter could hear the uncertainty in her voice.

“no, he doesn’t.” poseidon muttered miserably. “this maze can do anything. it’s probably swallowed him up like it did you, hera. i cannot believe we left him behind -- zeus, you went too fast!”

“me?” zeus asked in surprise. the wobble in his voice was audible. if poseidon did not lay off, their little brother was going to start blubbering again. “i didn’t! i didn’t mean to, i just wanted to keep moving. hera, tell them!”

“we should have checked. you dragged me so quickly, i didn’t even think.” hera replied shakily. “how are we going to find him now?”

“hera…” zeus murmured, betrayed. “i didn’t-- hades! come out right now!”

he called out into the darkness. no reply came.

“okay.” demeter whispered. “the maze led us to hera when we focused. we can find hades the same way, can’t we? where’s that compass?”

zeus’s gulp was audible. “... hades has it.”

Hades stepped back a little on impulse as the room flooded, glancing down to watch his step should the sand destabilise, then glanced to the others in celebration. Though he may not have smiled in that moment, he was very relieved, even just for a moment. He just couldn't stop thinking about the sudden return of Poseidon's power.

This truly was so greatly powerful a place to not only hold their powers but give them back at will. They were clearly being watched (so truly an alternate escape would be hard, as proven just by the maze) but maybe if they could understand this threat more they could - and everyone was hurrying away, leaving him behind in their excitement to continue.

Was following the rules of this place such a good idea? Each room was stranger than the one before it, what's to say they weren't being lured into an even bigger trap?

"Wait! Let's - we need to discuss things!" He called but it seemed no-one heard him.

Typical, too focused on impulse and command to stop even for a moment. Why do I even bother?

He took one more glance around and caught a glimmer in the sand by his feet. An amulet with a trident there just beneath the water's surface. Instinct to collect all that glimmers had him pick it up. In an instant more, he had retrieved the old compass-turned amulet and saw it was very similar in composition, save for the symbols. A round, flat silver pendant with rudimentary bordering pattern of more ancient pottery design with those symbols raised and coloured on the surface attached to a short, leather strap.

"Hmm..." He would have spent more time looking at them, but his siblings would not wait for him forever.

If they even waited at all. They hardly wait for my appearance at functions and events. Usually the bickering has already begun, sometimes it is as if I am not there, unless Zeus wants a fight.

The thoughts rose in him in the silence of this stagnant water, but he shook them off as he pocketed the necklace and began to walk through the silver-rimmed exit.

A pity he hadn't noticed the exit much in the first place, otherwise he would have noticed not only that the original exit had no decoration, but that it also contained no ominous grey mist emanating forth. Even stranger, it was quite a ways to the left of the original one, though his siblings' footsteps had made no dent in the drowned room so splash forth he did into an increasingly fogged corridor.

Well, corridor? Room? He couldn't truly see much of it due to mist, but sometimes he would get that sixth sense that he is standing too close to a wall and move out of the way.

"Hello? I told you to wait, damnit! You know we should stick together!" He called out into the echo, but nothing.

Perhaps panic should have risen then, worry that this place had swallowed them up in their eagerness to move, but it didn't. Instead, Hades simply felt as if he had swallowed a heavy weight that now pushed down on him. Bringing back a familiar aching dread, thoughts flowing now more freely than before. He stopped again in an empty space and peered around into the near darkness, looking for a hint of where to go.

Of course they left me behind. What exactly have I added to this besides use a compass, goad Poseidon and bicker with Zeus? Maybe it's a good thing they don't consider me a leader. Maybe it is good that I am alone. At least with that concept I am familiar.

His throat began to ache with the lump stuck in it, but he shook his head and moved on. As soon as he did, he felt rewarded with a new sense of conviction. If he could just move through, eventually he would find an exit or an answer. Even a dead end would provide information.

Thus he kept moving for a little while, turning at crossroads and once or twice turning back on himself as he stared at a dark wall and his own dimly-lit reflection. Now no more than a boy.

A boy his parents didn't even want.

...

Hestia still held tightly to Dem's hand as they moved in, and peered forward into the renewed darkness of this place. The torches barely lit at all, though giving them just enough to see the way through the curving tunnel before them and the blind corner ahead.

"Why does everything have to be so dark! That room was perfectly lit after all and these torches are- hey...where's Hades? Is he up front?" Hestia had just happened to glance back and saw that she was the one furthest back with no-one behind her. Yet she'd been sure that Hades had stopped for a moment but had been walking behind her.

She didn't hear him answer and immediately her heart dropped.

He'd been right behind her...hadn't he?

She glanced back again and tugged on Dem's hand a little.

"The exit's closed behind us, it's all- Hades?!" She called again into the pitch black behind them, now far more nervous as there was seemingly no answer again. It was unlike Hades to jokingly stay quiet, let alone in a situation like this. Even to lecture them. Stakes were high, they'd lost Hera immediately after all.

[nexuschampion]

//@accioturtur ok I'm not meeting the 'few times a week' goal I set for myself, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying.

The sounds of waves and the pleasant warm afternoon sun gently lulled Michelangelo into a calm that nearly made him forget he was entertaining a tiny nearly 2 year old. The girl, sitting with her back against his chest, was happily grabbing fistfuls of sand and alternating between tossed them, and tasting them as he started to doze.

Shadow and her sister sat several meters away in chairs, sipping waters and giggling.

Mikey rolled over onto his shell, looking up into the great blue sky, feeling very pleased that they had built in plenty of R&R into their California tour. Claire paused to looked over at him, then pushed herself up to make the attempt to walk a few steps in the traitorous sand, failed miserably, then crawled her way to something that had caught her attention a few feet away. He turned to watch her and grinned. He really couldn't have asked for a better day.

He flopped over onto his stomach to watch her pat the sand beneath her tiny palms vigorously with a healthy amount of satisfying plopping sounds. Her eyes flicked up to him for a moment, then she grabbed a handful, struggled to stand and successfully wobbled the two steps over to him. He blinked up at her in curiosity, waiting for the inevitable. She threw the fistful of sand at his face and fell back on her butt laughing wildly. Mikey pouted and shook his head dramatically back and forth to rid himself of the small amount of sand that managed to stay on his beak.

Clearly very pleased with herself and his reaction she grabbed another handful, stood with some great effort, and repeated the action, laughing even harder when he dramatically squeezed his eyes shut and ducked his head in preparation. She didn't fall back with the force of her own joy this time, so he peeked up at her, then poked her belly gently, just enough to upset her balance and fall back onto her butt again.

Though they were mostly alone, a large group of teenagers in the distance had some kind of event that caused them to start whooping and aughing loudly, catching his attention enough lazily observe them for a few minutes. Claire crawled back toward her mother, leaving Mikey to himself until he realized she was gone. He grinned and pushed himself up. Knowing full well that Shadow was now watching he gave her a show, instead of just standing up he pushed himself into a handstand, then flipped backwards to land on his feet. Claire hadn't made too much progress, so he told her he was gonna get her, causing her to frantically try and go faster, little arms waving wildly, until he grabbed her under her arms and tossed her gently into the air.

His eyes quickly scanned the area before he strolled up to the two ladies and deposited the toddler between them. She immediately reach for her mother's water and Mikey grabbed some of Shadow's.

"You two had enough? Ready for a different kind of playtime?" Sabrina asked, giving her sister a teasing poke.

"I am a fan of any and all kinds of playtime." He grinned, leaning down to give his a wife a kiss on the top of her head. She reached up to take his hand. "But I'm not sure we have had enough. We've got time right? I wouldn't mind going for a swim myself."

"Yup!" Shadow confirmed brightly. "We just have to meet up with Carlos for dinner and even that is not set in stone at all. Hear from him yet?"

Sabrina grabbed her phone, glanced at it and nodded. "He's going to be caught up until about 6. That'll put him home around 7, bummer. So yeah, that's bedtime anyway. No more plans. I can sit here having a lovely conversation with my sister and watch the two of you for the rest of the day. And I don't think she minds either."

He grinned and picked the girl up. "I'll leave you to it then." He turned his attention to Claire. "Wanna go try and outrun that water again?" As the two walked back to the ocean he continued talking to her. "I like this. This is fun. Do you think this is fun? I really like being out here in the open. I can see everything everywhere for like a few miles. It's a little nervewracking not having any kind of cover though. You should always have somewhere to go. A plan. Don't worry, I'll teach you all about it when you're just a little bit older okay?"

His voice trailed off as they got further away and the two women continued their conversation. In the year plus that they'd been reunited, topics and teasing had come nowhere near exhausted and they were both enjoying their time together.

"So, interviews huh? Has all the change been hard on his family?"

"Mmm. Our family sis. You're technically related to them too! I don't think his brother's have hardly noticed. They keep to themselves anyway. April and Casey seem to not be too bothered since they were already kind of the ones in the spotlight. If anything I think they're glad they don't' have to cover for him anymore."

"How about the two of you?"

Shadow glanced over at her husband. "He's such a bright shining star, people just gravitate to him you know? And he loves talking to all of them. It makes me so happy just watching him do his thing."

"But?"

"I don't know. It's all still pretty new and we're both adjusting. God I love how adored he is Sabrina. I've seen him sit down and win over haters in as little as 20 minutes!"

"How is Donovan?"

"Ugh, I wish we could have brought him, he would have had so much fun today. I hate that he's basically hidden from the world just like Mikey was. He's such a good kid."

"It'll settle down eventually."

"Maybe. Maybe when Claire is old enough to really enjoy Disneyland we could all go. Maybe by then he won't have people constantly following him around. This is the most aloneness that we've had since all this happened."

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

Later that night, they couldn't have been asleep more than a few hours when Mikey bolted upright with no idea why. For half a second he was frozen trying to figure out what was happening, but a brief sensation of falling followed by a deep boom from somewhere deep inside the earth gave him at least a little context before Shadow reacted and was sitting up, wide-eyed. It was all followed by what felt like a violently gentle swaying back and forth, like a porch swing but very, very big.

"Whoa. Never experienced this before…"

"Me either. Aw, it's our first earthquake!"

A distant whining cry had them both up and rubbing their eyes as they made their way to see if the rest of their family had noticed. There was still a decent amount of shaking as Mikey stepped out the front door to scan the area. He hadn't been in an earthquake before, but he certainly had been a part of plenty of similar situations. He jumped a bit when Shadow slipped next to him.

"Hey calm down baby. Just an earthquake. Carlos said it couldn't have even been over a 4 or 5."

"Sorry. Experience says it's an opportunity. Claire good?"

"Yeah." she chuckled. "Took her all of 30 seconds to go back down."

"It still makes me nervous staying here."

"Sabrina said other than a couple local interviews people haven't been bothering them. If anything people are just curious, but so far it's all been very respectful."

He stepped back inside and closed the front door. "Good."

"Well that was exciting!" Carlos announced himself. "Not a very big one, but it was enough to wake us up, eh?"

"Pretty wild. Glad it wasn't bigger."

"Pretty common event around here. If you'd take us up on the offer to be a live-in aunt and uncle you'd get used to it." Sabrina yawned and nudged Carlos toward their bedroom. "See ya in the morning!"

Mikey nodded as Shadow took his hand. He resisted her pull though. "I think after that I'm kinda up. I'm going to watch some TV for a bit. That okay?"

"Want some company?"

"Na babe. You need your beauty sleep."

"You saying I'm ugly?"

"Mmm hmm. The ugliest" he chuckled "you need so much sleep my love. You're so ugly you make onions cry."

Shadow slapped his shoulder. "Rude. But I am sleepy."

She started to head back to their room, but Mikey stopped her. "Um. Maybe, actually, company would be nice. You could sleep on the couch with me?"

Shadow smiled at her husband in agreement, and unbeknownst to them, an eavesdropping sister also smiled.

[fmdluna]

lunaverse - micha’s sleep-inducing utopia.

scenario: i’m still very excited, so here’s some info on micha’s new youtube channel ! word count: 872 notes: this isn’t a proper hc / self-para really?? just some bullets on what her new asmr channel’s all about for development’s sake and those who were curious!

her intro is similar to veildasmr’s, and if you haven’t seen that you can check it out here! basically just a really cute edit to get the viewers ready to relax!

she is naming her youtube fandom lunabugs and you can’t do anything about it

she also has a verbal intro she says once the actual video starts, which is really cheesy but she made it up ok osfjoisjfoi. it says “mi-cha! let’s sleep!” which in korean is “미-차! 자자!” which rhymes...kind of?? but the “mi” and “cha” are separated so that when she says “mi”, she puts her hand under her chin as if she’s gesturing to herself since it sounds like “me” in english??? please tell me you know what i’m talking about lmao i’ve wasted way too much time on this one irrelevant bullet point

this is her profile because you know pjs comfy times all that!! it’s actually from her past instagram post from forever ago but i think she’s v likely to reuse pictures

micha’s purpose behind the channel is to support the viewers by encouraging them to take care of their mental health  & discuss hers while trying not to get fired! obviously she’s gonna have to be a little slick about it since bc hates that lmao, but she’s gonna have a lot of whisper ramble videos about 

this is her first real step into her solo pursuits, so she’s gonna try her best to establish how she wants to be seen early!! she really wants her fans to see her as real, since that’s what she would’ve liked when she was younger & a fan, so she’s going to be keeping the makeup & outfits minimal! 9/10 it’ll be pjs to keep the sleepy vibes consistent 

she’ll have some sort of english / korean subtitles, at least! i don’t know if they’ll allow her to have the community contribute them, but if not she’ll probably end up doing the korean ones herself and getting sooyeon’s help on the english ones lmao!!

so she’s going to have a few segments that are recurring on her channel, besides the general ones! 

“tea with micha!” : another very cheesy thing, because in korean it’s 미차차, basically micha-cha! and tea makes her very happy so she’s going to do a little cha cha when she introduces the segment. PLEASE DON’T CLOWN ME i swear this is all micha’s doing she doesn’t want her channel to flop. but these are the q & a videos using approved questions with sipping noises ( def not into but someone will be ), tapping on the mugs, and answering the questions! so quite literally and figuratively....spilling the tea

“shh! i’m vlogging” : basically an interesting asmr take on her life? these are rare bc she needs to have time to do it, but it’s basically a whispered voice over with videos from her day but real-time public asmr during the vlog if it’s quiet enough!

“stories until we snore” : ok so you ever seen those videos where people do asmr until they fall asleep?? well that’s this, except micha also has to create her own story in the process! the week before subscribers vote on a word to inspire the story on, and from there she improvises a story until she falls asleep! this will be prerecorded & edited because she WILL NOT have her sleeping face out in public for everyone to see

“sleepy snacks” : ok the name is v uncreative like the last one but this is your average mukbang asmr !! probably more for entertainment than actually getting to sleep (misleading title i know), but she’ll be trying all those weird asmr foods and giving honest reviews! (unless she’s sponsored & needs that money hA)

“tingles for two” : this is an unnecessary name for a simple segment which is basically anything involving collabs with her friends! so if you ever want to collab with her on her channel, hit me up! it really doesn’t require anything, and you’ll probably get a cute instagram post or thread out of it! (or even if any other muse has a channel, dual collabs?? ooh??)

like the original post said, the end of her videos have bloopers at the end of her inevitably failing at doing her intro / being clumsy at some point of the video!

her schedule’s definitely gonna be wonky since she’s an entertainer with ever-evolving schedules, but when they’re free you can expect a video every 1-2 week(s)!

when she moves out in the near future, she’s going to definitely invest in a place with some sort of office space / free room so that she can have a more elaborate setup in her house !! right now it’s taking up like....her whole corner of the dorm oijoijgrjo

her outro is something like “are you sleep yet, ladybugs? i hope so! if not, click on __ video and you’ll be sleep in no time” because she is a businesswoman and needs that revenue!! her bag comes before all!!

she’ll probably do a halloween spooky story video, with the lights off and a little flashlight while she whispers cool stories!!

ok i think that’s all for now?? i’ll tell you if i find more!!