#Also getting into a cave and seeing the metal rods pointing to the chest like HELL YEAH BABY

[nadhie]

at this point I legitimately am playing totk just to get the outfits. The immense disappointment when the chest doesn't deliver and the incredible high I get when it's a slutty new fit. Unbeatable.

[bonkers-4-hatter]

Coils of Love

This is part of a yandere commission from a lovely dear! Please read at your own risk, some of this could be triggering to some. Read the warnings below before moving on. Thank you! Also, as always, all characters are 18+

Fandom: Free! Iwatobi Swim Club

Pairing: !Yandere !Naga Rin Matsuoka X Reader

Word Count: 1,436

Warnings: Kidnapping, Yandere themes, physical assault, mentions of sexual thoughts/talk

Humans were vile, they needed to be eliminated.

That’s what Rin has stuck to for many years, every time a human came into his woods, he killed them no questions asked. He felt no sympathy for those he killed, they caused nothing but destruction and misery.

Glancing down at the scars running up and down his exposed arms, he grimaced at the memory of the humans that hurt him years ago; slashing at him with knives and even trying to shoot him before he could even utter a word to those damn trespassers.

No matter, he killed them like the rest and from that day, no human has been able to leave his woods alive...except you. You were different.

You moved into one of the few cabins littered around the woods, turns out it was a cabin that has been passed down in your family. It was a bit run down, but you’ve been out there doing work on the small cabin.

Rin’s watched you for hours on end, so far it’s been eight months since you moved into the cabin and he knew your routine by heart. You kept to yourself, read a lot, gardened and just minded your own business. The few times he heard you talk, it was beautiful, like a Siren singing their song. Every time he went to go and kill you, he just couldn’t. Each time he’d loom above your bed, his golden eyes racking down your body; memorizing the curves and dips of your body, slivers of skin on display for his pleasure as you slept soundly in what you thought was the safety of your house and bed.

No, he didn’t want to kill you, he wanted to keep you. You’d be his own little human pet. He already knew your routine, so capturing you wouldn’t be an issue and after watching you for months, he knew what he would have to grab to take so you would feel a little better - hopefully. After getting his cave ready for you, he was ready to take what was rightfully his. Slithering up the stairs, a few creaks emitted from the weight he put on the old wood, but you were a heavy sleeper so he paid no mind to the haunting sounds of the cabin as he made his way in.

Setting off, he moved around your place grabbing some of your things and placing them in a sack carefully and after that was done, all that was left was you - the most important thing. Entering your bedroom, he smiled as his eyes lingered on your sleeping form. Clad in nothing but a tank top and shorts since it was Summer, he had to restrain himself from ravishing you on the bed right here and now, but he didn’t want to wake you up.

There was plenty of time to pleasure you once you both were back home. Quickly grabbing some clothes from your drawers, Rin put them in the sack with your other things and turned around to find your bed empty. Red eyes widened at your empty bed before a shrill yell echoed through the silent house and something rushed him, hard metal hitting his chest multiple times. Rin knew you were feisty, but this was unexpected. With a wicked grin, he turned around, his Red eyes easily adjusting to the darkness as your shaking figure stood there, metal rod in your hands and a determined look on your face. “Get the hell out!” He could hear you gulp as you gripped the metal rod, reeling it back and swinging it forward intending to hit him again. Smirking down at you, Rin easily grabbed the metal rod and ripped it from your hands.

It was actually adorable, thinking you could hurt him that easily, but he did give you props for trying. The bewildered look on your face was wonderful to see, the fear in your eyes was the icing on the cake, you knew you were in danger and there was nothing you could do about it. “Nicccce try (Y/N), but we both know I have the upper hand.” Chucking the metal rod to the side, he noticed how you tried to be a bit sneaky by slowly inching back toward your only exit - your bedroom door, but Rin was superior with his enhanced seeing and hearing.

Before you could even make it three steps, Rin slithered quickly over blocking the door, and as a split second decision just to instill a bit more fear into you he wrapped some of his tail around your ankle and brought you crashing down onto the floor.

Seeing you thrashing around so helplessly as you were awakened something in Rin. Of course, he wished you were thrashing around for another reason, but that can be for later. A smirk made its way to Rin’s face as you tried to kick his tail off and undo it from around your ankle.

With his smirk still plastered on his face, he tugged at your trapped ankle to make you inch closer to him.

“Sssstop ssstruggling, we both know you’re not going to get away.” For a brief moment, you stopped struggling and looked up at him, your eyes trying to search in the darkness for something. Without taking his eyes off your still shaking form, he flipped on the light to your bedroom.

Your eyes squinted as the assault of light, but thankfully you could see properly and hopefully find another escape route. Surely your eyes were playing tricks on you…In front of you, was a snake...a man....a mixture of both, something that you’ve never seen before.

“Why?” That was the only thing that slipped from your mouth as you continued to stare at the thing standing in the middle of your room with its tail wrapped around your captured ankle. It didn’t answer you verbally and just tugged you closer to his towering form. Your arms flailed about hoping to grab something that you could use to defend yourself with, but alas, nothing was within your reach.

You were suddenly pulled from the floor, warm hands grasping your flesh as you were promptly thrown on the bed. You felt the weight of his tail pin you down onto your bed, you could feel the roughness of the scales rub against your exposed skin.

Towering above you as he continued to pin you where you were not even ten minutes ago, he just smiled down at you, showing off his sharp teeth to you. Honestly, you weren’t sure if it was a type of power move on his part or not, but, either way you knew you were not going to get away from this....man easily. He cupped your face with one of his free hands and stroked the skin, his hands were cauloused and even the pads of his fingers had some variance of a scale to them, the mere stroke of your cheek from his fingers brought a chill down your spine.

“Why am I taking you,” He only laughed and licked his lips, his eyes skimming over your pinned form as if you were his prey. “That’sss easssy (Y/N), because you’re mine, my darling, lover… play thing, whatever I ssssee you fit for.”

With his verbal claim on you, he sealed the deal by capturing your lips with his, of course, you tried to struggle, but once he wrapped a hand around your throat and squeezed the sides you decided to stop.

With his hands still in the same place, he rose up once more, this time a more menacing look was present on his face. “If I sssqueezed hard enough,” His hands tightened around your delicate neck emphasizing his point as it became more difficult to breath. “I could easssily ssssnap that pretty neck in half...that’sss ssssomething you ssssshould remember before doing anything brasssh.”

With a smirk, Rin added just a bit more pressure, making you grasp his hand , nails digging into his rough skin; as sign, a silent plea for him to stop. Sharp red eyes made contact with your terrified ones, tears were appearing at the corners of your eyes, he knew you understood his point crystal clear. Releasing your throat, you greedily took big gulps of air.

Your hands flew up to feel your neck, it was sore and tender of course and a few places hurt and you knew you were going to have some bruising show up. This...man was crazy enough to carry out his threat, you knew that for a fact. You didn’t see a way out of this mess.

You could feel his hand run up and down your waist, nails scratching the supple flesh; a gentle reminder that he could instantly kill you if he wanted...a reminder that you were his and there was not a damn thing you could do about it.

“Now,” Your eyes snapped up to meet his own piercing Red ones. “My name’sss Rin, you’ll get to know me better sssoon my dear, and don’t worry, I know everything about you, after watching you for a few monthsss, I’ve come to know every sssssingle detail about you...even the intimate onesss.”

A chill ran up your spine at his words as you tried not to make a disgusted face at the realization this man has been watching your every move for the past few months. All the times you thought you were alone...was a false facade.

Before you could say anything, Rin hoisted you up and over his shoulder, your eyes were met with even more scales red and black shimmered back at you. If you weren’t in this dire situation with this maniac of a man, you would even say that his scales were beautiful, but you knew any form of a compliment would only fuel his insane desires.

“Now, let’sss get home...dear.” With those words, Rin slithered out of the room, his beloved in his grasp and you trying to come up with a plan to escape this new life...but, deep down you knew there was no way out of this snake’s coil. 

[lovehugsandcandy]

bloom (ColtxMC, RoD)

A/N:  I almost did not finish this in time for Colt day and I would have been heartbroken. (also, alternate summary was “Colt has a plant” but GOD why would he ever have that, right?) @rodappreciationweek

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: ~4500 words

Rating/Warnings: N*FW (It’s not explicit but there’s enough there that it’s probably N*FW. And swearing.)

Summary: Bloom where you’re planted.

It comes cheap, as cash deals often do. The walls are riddled with holes, gaping gunshots and massive dents inflicted in incidents even he doesn’t want the stories of; the roof is in shambles, caved to the floor in spots while leaks spread oily over the surface in others. But the land is secluded, safe, and, though it needs work, the foundation is sound. 

Colt has never been afraid of hard work, anyway.

He wanted to rebuild on the ashes of his father’s shop. It would have been apt, fitting, rebuilding the place that had been his legacy, passed down from ancestor to ancestor until it arrived at his feet, decaying and ruined. 

But it was too obvious. Every single time he drove by, he could see the undercover cops staking out the place, blindingly obvious behind the tinted windows of shiny SUVs. The drive also made him ill; when he caught sight of the charred sign and burnt out support beams, his vision would sway, hands clammy in leather gloves, heart racing a frenetic beat. The last time he sped through, he had needed to pull over, two blocks away, to spew stomach acid into a gutter.

He hadn’t gone back since.

But this new shop, this would work. He would make this work, rebuild here, in safety and relative anonymity, forging a new crew and avenging all he had lost.

A bitter voice cuts through his mental scheming. “There’s one more thing.”

“What?” He glares daggers at Smokey, the gruff man selling the place who earned his name from the trail of tobacco wafting behind him.

“The yard.” 

He follows Smokey out back, to where two wrecks sit on concrete that bleeds into dust at the edges, all surrounded by rusted-out barbed wire fencing. The Lambo would be worth something, if the engine was still there, but the MacLaren is destroyed, probably only worth scrap metal and parts.

“All this is yours, too. But I ain’t moving shit.”

Colt shrugs. “Okay.” He surveys the lot. Buried in the dust, he notices a flash of green, a leaf peeking out of the dirt caked against a metal post. “The hell’s that?” he asks, pointing over to where the small stem is, remarkably, making its way out of the dry earth, spouting where no living thing should ever be able to grow. It’s tiny, barely an inch, but it’s vibrant amid the washed out dust basin surrounding it.

“That plant thing? Fuck do I know.” Smokey sticks his hand in his overall pocket, fishing around until he grabs a pack of smokes. “Anyway, like I said, it’s all yours.”

Colt hands over the cash, takes the keys, and starts planning.

~~~~~

He plasters the walls himself, sledgehammer tearing through the plywood and insulation, dust and dirt raining down on him until he’s covered, paint chips grinding into his skin until every visible inch is full of grit and grime. He stands in the shower for an eternity, scalding water raining on muscles tense with exertion, physical labor quieting the screaming rage in his head.

He can’t do everything himself, gets a truckload of guys to shingle the roof, hires an electrician to ensure that the lifts work on the floor. He keeps his ear to the ground, always scouting new talent, people looking to make a break into his world. There’s a few, various tuners and losers, but no one he trusts. Not yet.

One thing he can do is rebuild, plan, and deal with that stupid plant. He almost ignored it, figuring it would wither away on its own, but he has begrudging respect for something thriving in an inhospitable environment. The guy at the nursery thought it looked like a melon, handing over some instructions and a bag of soil that Colt balanced on his lap as the bike wove through city streets. It’s stupid, utterly ridiculous, but he puts the soil down, anyway. Maybe the melon just needs a chance.

By August, Mona’s out, sprung from jail by some hotshot lawyer and begrudging LAPD acknowledgement of the corruption in the force. He is under the bike when she saunters through the bay doors, a smirk on her face and swagger in her step. She makes a snide comment about his transmission, then wanders into the break room to make popcorn.

He stares after her for a full minute, completely befuddled, but finally shrugs and wanders out back to water the stupid melon.

He wonders if this is his life now.

~~~~~

Colt looks closer, dropping to his knees in a cloud of dust to peer incredulously at the ground beneath him. Yesterday, there had been only one green sprout, the result of careful tending and effort, somehow reaching burgeoning leaves through the fencing slats to chase the sun. But now, there are two, as an evil-looking clover emerges through the soil carefully packed against the fence. How the fuck did a weed grow here? Hell, he has no idea how the fucking melon was growing here, pushing through the dust that caked the ground, but he would be damned if he let a fucking weed ruin his work.

He’s just digging his fingers into the dirt, trying to get every offending root, when footsteps thud behind him. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Mona asks, skeptically.

“Getting this fucking thing-”

“What is that?”

“A weed.” He drops the invader, and it scatters in the wind, dancing through the fencing.

“No…” She hesitates, sounding puzzled, and he squints at her profile in the sunlight, waiting. “The plant thing down there.”

“Guy at the store said he thinks it’s a melon.”

She blinks. “You’re growing a melon.” He doesn’t know what to make of her tone, half accusatory, half mocking, so he only shrugs, shoving his hands in his pockets. Finally, she snorts. “It might be nice for you.”

“What?”

“Might be nice for you to actually make something, instead of fucking shit up all the time.”

He glares daggers at her retreating back before inspecting the stupid green stem again. It might be his imagination, but it already looks stronger, as if culling the invading weed had already strengthened its roots. 

Maybe the fucking thing would thrive if its enemies were removed.

~~~~~~

In October, Ximena makes her way through the front door, a smile spreading across her face and a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. He’s speechless as she lifts him into a giant hug, his ribs creaking in protest.

“Heard things were getting better around here, sweetie.” Colt feels a bashful flush heat his cheeks at the familiar nickname, but she’s not wrong. He and Mona had just swiped a couple of Sodertaljes for a half a million just last week, and he’s already scheming to snatch two more. The crew is making a name for itself; he’s rebuilding. “Where’s Mona?”

“Back room,” he answers, watching X stroll away in absolute confusion before he wanders to the yard. Apparently, he can’t control the comings and goings of the dregs of his father’s crew.

But maybe he can control the fucking plant.

~~~~~

Ellie doesn’t come home for Thanksgiving. 

He knew she wouldn’t. It’s his business to know things, the location of priceless cars, the name of the rival crew who’s been running jobs in the Hills. Collecting tidbits of information and splicing them into a bigger picture is one of those skills that keeps the crew afloat and him alive.

But knowing things about her (the spot at the curve of her shoulder that makes her cry out, exactly how much pressure to use where she’s so sensitive, hell, even the stupid, sappy shit like how she likes her coffee, all locked away deep in his brain), well, that’s far from business.

He knows her house (third from the corner with the busted up cruiser in the drive) and he would recognize her car anywhere, even just a flash of it.

She stays at school for Thanksgiving.

But she comes home for Winter Break. He drives by one morning (three am after a successful job, when the roar of adrenaline in his blood makes him desperately miss the one person he wants by his side) and it’s there, vivid pink reflecting the streetlights. He has to remind himself to fucking breathe.

The next afternoon, groggy after tossing and turning all fucking night, he can’t decide when he should just show up at her house and how to avoid the detective if he did. 

He actually doesn’t need to decide. 

“Why didn’t you rebuild the old shop?”

He spins, splashing the coffee in a sticky mess over concrete (one cream, two sugars, far too sweet to be anything more than a reminder). “What-” The smile on her face is playful, teasing, and his fingers itch to run through her hair. “How did you…?”

“You’re not the only one who has friends in low places.” She turns at the echoing footsteps and is soon swept into hugs and smiles and the dull banter of catching up. 

But after, after he steals her away, upstairs to his loft, coaxing sugar sweet sounds from her lips with the rapaciousness of a man denied for far too long, he ensures that she remembers exactly who she came to the shop to see. 

When he’s exhausted, temporarily sated yet only waiting until the next burst of energy for round two, he traces random designs down her bare back. “You ready to come back, yet?”

“Colt…”

“Hey, I know you’re too good for school. Just wondering if you know it yet.”

She spins in his arms; when her bare skin glances across his chest, he tightens his fingers, still curled into her back. “Jesus, Colt, you haven’t changed at all.”

“Did you expect me to?”

“Your dad…” His nails dig into her back at the mention; her wince makes him drop his hand to the sheets. She continues, “Your dad wanted more than this. For you.”

“What about what I want?”

“Well, what about what I want?”

He blinks, pulling his arm back. “The fuck? You’re doing what you want across the fucking country.” He watches her stand and storm about the room, pulling on clothes, swiping at her eyes. “Ellie, come on-”

“This was a mistake.”

He sits up, crossing his arms over his bare chest to fix her with his darkest glare. “What the hell does that-“

“I should have…” She trails off and, for a moment, he sees the glimmer of indecision in her eyes. “I made my choice. I’m going back to school and I can’t…” Her voice wavers and she doesn’t even finish the sentence.

When the door slams, he flops against the bed, worn and wilting. 

~~~~~

Winter brings the first fruit. 

One of the many benefits to living in Southern California is the weather, where each sunny day is a picture-perfect copy of the last. So, even though it’s February, Ximena watches as he carefully cuts the fruit from the vine and stands, cradling it in one arm. “Huh,” she says, shooting him a critical eye. “It’s kinda like that saying: bloom where you’re planted.”

“Huh?”

“The saying… bloom where you’re planted? It kinda means… um….“ Her hands flail about before settling across her chest. “Work with what you’ve got? Plants need fertile soil and plenty of water and sunlight. That plant was given this dusty piece of shit lot owned by a fledgling crew. But even though these aren’t really the best conditions, it’s still blooming anyway. Even though the circumstances aren’t the best, you need to use your talents where you are, not think about what could have been.”

He runs the words through his head, callused fingertips tracing the dappled skin of the melon, trying not to think of different circumstances. “Christ, X.” He shakes his head ruefully. “Its just a fucking plant.” He turns and heads through the shop, careful not to splatter fruit on the concrete, her heavy footsteps close behind. 

Mona is already in the break room, lazing about the table, and he gingerly cuts into the skin, handing her and Ximena a pale orange slice.

“Is it hygienic to cut it with that knife?” X asks, teasingly, but takes the proffered piece, regardless. 

“Shut up and try it.”

He waits as they bring it to their mouths, holding his breath as each takes a tentative bite. Finally, Ximena breaks the silence, wrinkling her nose. “It’s kind of… bitter.”

“You mean it’s fucking awful!” Mona spits the blob of flesh into a napkin, disgust curling her lip, and she wipes at her tongue rapidly.

He glares at them steadily but can’t disagree once he cuts his own piece. It tastes wrong, flesh too chewy, too tart on his tongue. His eyes water as he swallows it down; he closes the switchblade and chucks the entire melon into the trash.

Maybe this whole thing is a fucking waste of time. 

Maybe nothing would ever bloom at this shop.

~~~~~

Winter also brings Toby. 

Colt hears the engine roar from the loft and, when he opens the bay door, he gapes at the blaze before him, raging from the hood of a modded-up import.

“It’s not supposed to do that.” Toby leaps from the driver’s seat, grabbing the fire extinguisher that he apparently keeps conveniently under the passenger seat.

“No shit.”

“I think I dialed the ignition force up a little too high, but with a couple of modifications-”

“What are you doing here?”

Toby’s jaw drops. “What do you mean? I heard you were building a new crew.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you suck at the delicate modifications needed to create the next generation of revolutionary sports cars, and you also wouldn’t know your way around surveillance technology if it bit you in the ass and bought you a milkshake afterwards.”

What the... Awkward phrasing aside, he’s not wrong. “What the fuck. Is everyone just gonna waltz right in and…” Colt trails off as Toby walks away, tripping over nothing on his way down the hall.

The cheer when he strolls into the break room is loud, raucous. Colt wonders when his shop became the thrift stop for local rejects.

He wonders why he does nothing about it.

~~~~~

“I’ve heard they like it when you play music for them.”

Colt looks up. “The fuck?!?”

Toby peers down at where he is carefully packing more soil around the base of the stem. “The plants,” he explains, eyes blinking wide behind his thick lenses. “I think they like music. Do you wanna borrow one of my German trance electronica CDs?”

“God, no,” Colt snarls, standing and wiping dirt on his jeans before turning heel, storming back into the shop.

After watching for two days (weren’t there supposed to be flowers sprouting on this fucking thing?), he finally buys a wireless speaker, hiding it next to the fence. At first, he tries classical; based on a quick internet search, soothing orchestra is recommended. However, the strings gnaw on his ears and, even worse, the plant still looks like shit. 

Once he’s annoyed with that prissy crap, he flips to music he likes and is amazed when the furled leaves seemed to get greener and greener. Colt can just make out 2pac as he stares in amazement at the plant. Will I see the penitentiary or will I stay free? He shakes his head and walks away; he doesn’t know shit about plants.

~~~~~

She comes back for Spring Break, too. He doesn’t even need to drive by her house; she posts a picture at LAX, beaming grin filling his phone screen as she poses at arrivals.

He waits, doing petty jobs and minor repairs, anything to keep his hands occupied, but it doesn’t stop his mind from racing. Finally, on the fourth day, soft footsteps edge onto the shop floor. He tries to keep his eyes from widening; based on her smirk, he doesn’t succeed. 

He doesn’t even let her speak, crossing the floor in five steps, arm on her wrist, dragging her upstairs so he can push her against the door.

“I’m not gonna apologize.” He says it into her mouth, words rushed to shorten the time before her lips were on his.

“I would never expect you to.”

“You know how important this is to me.” Her fingers curl in his jacket as he rolls his hips.

“I know,” she moans as his lips slide down her neck. “I just want… you could be so much more than this. I don’t want you to destroy yourself.”

He makes his way back up to kiss her ear. “Fuck, Ellie.” His voice is low with promise and she shivers at every word. “I’m going to destroy you.”

She laughs joyful and clear as they fall into bed, and he reacquaints himself with the curve of her shoulder, the soft skin of her thigh. The dirt under his nails leaves streaks of grit down her back, over her ass, and he scrubs her clean in the shower, catching the droplets of water as they fall from her lips.

“How long are you staying this time?”

She’s in a towel, water still dripping from the pile of hair at her nape, skin glowing from being scrubbed clean. Colt had never seen anything so radiant. “I’m home until Sunday.”

“Not what I was asking.”

“Tonight?” She bites her lips, eyes wide on his.

“I’ll take tonight.” He leans over to pull on the fabric, dropping the towel to the floor. Beaming, she squeals as he pulls her back into bed. If he only had tonight, he was gonna make it fucking worth it.

~~~~~

They try the melon again. It’s May and the days are getting longer; snooty colleges would soon let underclassmen fly home for the summer.

He tries not to think about it.

He cuts through the fruit, three pairs of eager eyes around him, and hands out crescents, his leg bouncing under the table as he waits and watches the crew take hesitant bites.

“It’s…” Mona chews thoughtfully. “It’s not bad.”

Ximena smiles. “It is definitely better than last time. It’s not very sweet, but at least it’s not terrible.”

“Thanks,” he replies dryly.

“What do you guys mean?��� The words are hard to comprehend over the entire wedge that Toby has crammed into his mouth. “This is incredible!”

Colt takes a tentative bite. It definitely wasn’t as bad as last time, the sourness of the last attempt now faded into an inoffensive tartness. The flesh is soft against his tongue, but it’s not sweet; unlike the fruit from the store, it is bland, inoffensive, boring.

At least it’s edible, a marked improvement from when the first fruit sprung from the barren soil.

Only Toby takes another piece, but Colt counts it as a win.

~~~~~

The soil disappears easily, lather carrying it down the drain as if it were never there. The grease is more difficult, solvents and scrubbing not enough to take everything off, and he can see the dark lines coating his skin for days, until they are as much a part of him as the freckles dotting his nose and the scar under his rib cage.

He carries other dirt with him, foul and dark, and no amount of scrubbing will ever make him clean.

~~~~~

He almost thinks she won’t come back, not this time, that Spring Break was a bittersweet goodbye and her full year away has convinced her that her new life is a better fit, holding more promise than a crew still finding its legs and growing into its reputation. He fears her time in the books may have taught her she belongs in musty libraries and dim corridors, soaking up knowledge like she soaked up gearshifts and speed, and that formulas and theories would replace the itch to drive fast and take chances.

But he’s wrong.

The door opening on the shop floor barely twinges his consciousness, and the increased chatter doesn’t stir him either. He just rolls over, burrowing his face into the pillow.

But the hands sliding down his bare back definitely jar him awake and he whirls, brain working far slower than his limbs, and it takes a minute to come to grips with the figure in front of him. When he finally realizes that she isn’t some dream-induced phantom but is real, a corporeal figure perched over him, morning sunlight glancing off her hair and fingers solid at his back, well, then he moves, quickly pulling her down before she can change her mind, relearning how she cries out and moans his name.

After, her body drapes over his, slick skin on slick skin, and his fingers trace their way up her back, her forearms; he’s comparing the real Ellie in his arms with that of memories and dreams and his mental mapping is disturbed when her lips forms words, hot against his chest. “Have you ever gotten something you wanted and realized that you might not want it anymore?”

The question makes him pause; he can think of a million things he’s wanted, desperately, abject need coursing through his veins and making him desperate to destroy all obstacles.

But he can think of only one he has actually gotten. He pulls her close, heart simmering at the question, and drags needy lips up the bare skin of her shoulder, etching tongue and teeth in a haphazard line that only stops behind her ear, when the moan flows through her chest and vibrates against his skin. “I’ve gotten things I wanted and realized that I wanted them even more.”

Her answering smile glows in the sunlight and, yet again, he finds himself again lost to the world of sensation and pleasure and the utter rightness of her body under his.

When she sits up in bed, hours later, he is deeply satisfied when her voice again rasps over his name; he is so distracted by imagining all the things he can do that will make her again dip the vowel, slow and sexy, tongue sliding over the single syllable desperately, that he misses the question. “Wha-?”

“Show me around.”

He narrows his eyes. “You’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, but...” She tilts her shoulder and tugs the sheets tighter around bare skin; Colt pulls his eyes from mapping the dark marks lining her shoulder and focuses on her words. “I only really saw the break room and your bedroom.”

“The only important spots here.”

She huffs a sigh. “Show me around?”

“Fine, fine.” He trudges out of bed, dressing slower than normal since his eyes won’t stop cutting to her, jealously watching her jeans slide up to cover the teeth marks on her thigh. If she was just going to skip off again, he was going to do his damnedest to memorize the sight of her perched on his bed, glowing in the daylight.

“Ready?” she prods.

He rolls his eyes, throwing on his t-shirt and walking out of the room, taking the stairs twice at a time, hand vaguely waving at the shop floor as he saunters through. “Hydraulic lift. Air compressor. Impact wrench. The piece of shit that Toby swore he could get running two months ago, but the engine still won’t fucking turn over.” He turns to see her trailing careful fingertips over a toolbox. “Can we go back upstairs?”

“Is it like your dad’s shop?”

He starts. Usually he bristles when people mention Pop, fury and regret and a deep need to prove himself just below his skin; however, there is only curiosity brimming in her eyes, a hint of concern below the surface. He has nothing left to prove to her. “What?”

“I dunno. Does it have everything the old shop did?”

He shrugs. “Mostly. There’s more space, so I added in another lift. We also have the lot, so Tony has been collecting more pieces of shit that he swears will be vintage collectors one day.”

“There’s a lot?”

“Hm?” He eyes the distance between them and the stairs, probably 50 feet, but he could get Ellie back there and up to the loft in seconds if he were properly motivated. “Yeah, out back.”

“Can I see?”

Internally, he groans but nods, leading her out the back door and into the sun. It’s the same dust pit as normal, and he casts an unimpressed eye around the heaps of metal. However, Ellie looks enraptured, peering around the wrecks, walking the perimeter in slow, careful steps. 

“Wow, it’s huge.” He shrugs; he feels the tips of his ears reddening and tries to fight it, but it’s a lost cause when she gazes at him like that. “Wait…” She pauses, eyes falling to the ground. “What’s that?”

“What?”

She kneels to the ground, hovering over the dust to stroke careful fingers over the melon. “This.”

“A stupid plant.”

“A plant?” She blinks up at him, squinting against the midday sun, and this time he can’t suppress the huff.

“Yeah, it’s a stupid melon thing. It was here when I bought the place and I’ve been trying to actually get something decent, but it’s fucking pointless.” She stares at him so long he fidgets, rocking back on his heels. “We’ve tried it a couple times, but it never tastes good. And I looked up when to water it and the guy at the shop blathered on about soil and sunlight, but it never seems to come out right.”

She falls silent again, and he stuffs his hands in his pocket, waiting until she finally asks, “You… you did this?”

He gapes. He did everything in this fucking place, from installing the bay doors to filling the tool chests to even putting together the bed she had just fallen apart in. “Yeah?”

“Huh,” she murmurs, eyes falling on him as if she was just seeing him for the first time.

He rocks back on his heels. “It’s just a stupid fucking plant.”

“I just… I never expected… you...” She stares at him, piercingly, as if she could see right through him, deep inside his brain to his deepest thoughts and desires and fears, deep to where she had already twisted tendrils inside him that he could never prune. “I thought you were gonna burn yourself down.”

“And I said we were both gonna be great.”

She bites her lip, considering, and Colt has the dawning realization that can actually, finally get what he wants. “When are you supposed to get fruit?” she asks and his heart skips a beat.

“Well…” He calculates days in his head. “It flowered a week ago, so I dunno, three more weeks? A month?” A smile spreads, slow and sure across her face, and Colt realizes that things will be different. “Why?” He smiles back. It’s impossible not to break into a grin when she looks at him like that, like he answered a question she never asked. “You gonna stick around?”

~~~~~

And when they finally cut into the melon, a week after he built two more things (a desk and a dresser, painted in such an audacious shade of pink that he smirks every time he walks into their room), he licks the juice dripping from the corner of her mouth, sucking the sweetness and laughter onto his tongue. It tastes amazing. It tastes like home.

.

Tags:

Perma @desireepow--1986 @leelee10898 @emichelle @client-327 @choicesgremlin @brightpinkpeppercorn @thequeenofcronuts @lilyofchoices @choicesarehard @desireepow-1986

ROD  @mskaneko @lovemychoices @burnsoslow @troublemakerinspace @omgjasminesimone

Colt

@deimosensblog  @alegria1580   @thefarrari @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @zaira-oh-zaira @akrenich @sibella-plays-choices  @maxwellsquidsuit  @liamzigmichael4ever @octobereighth @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @theeccentricbibliophile @dancingboba @tempesrature

RoDAW @ritachacha

[caffeinated-mendes]

Failed Mission - Peter Parker & OC - Chapter 4

masterlist

previous work

previous chapter

synopsis:  Eliza Brooks, an eighteen-year-old Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and friend to Tony Stark is given a mission after Tony’s death: Attend Midtown Tech and keep an eye on Peter Parker. With the use of her mysterious powers, Eliza had never slipped up on her assignment. That is until Peter’s life is in danger, and she has to save him. The cost of her exposing her identity could very nearly mean the end of her mission, and the ending of her chance to become an Avenger.

word count: 2.4k

a/n:  Hi guys! It's been a little bit since I updated, but hopefully they'll get more frequent on this fic once summer comes. Thank you for reading! Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

warnings: none

*if you prefer, you can read this on my ao3 instead of here

“Eli! I’m coming! Eliza?” Peter scrambled off the top of the cathedral, ignoring the shocked screams and gasps of the people sitting in the town square. He dropped himself next to the bench with the flashdrive on it, and snatched it up before someone came to collect it. Turning back around, he bolted into the cathedral. Everything was silent as he ran down the pews, no one in sight. “Eliza?” Peter looked down at his feet, and grasped the black and blue mask at his feet. Great, he thought, I’ve let Eliza get kidnapped, not only screwing up her chance at becoming a part of SHIELD, but I also have increased her chances of dying!

Peter took a deep breath, and ran back out of the cathedral, mask in hand as he webbed himself up unto a balcony. “Karen?” He asked, and suddenly a ring sounded through his ears.

A familiar, automated voice replied, “Yes, Peter?”

“Can you do a scan for any underground tunnels within a hundred-mile radius of this point?”

“Sure, Peter.” Peter watched before his eyes as his vision turned black, now illuminated with a visual blueprint of the town’s sewer system. The electric blue lines surrounded himself, a tiny dot on the map. “There is a hollowed out tunnel that is five miles from here that leads into a bigger cavern. The tunnel spans across the whole city, and an entrance is within thirty feet of you.”

“Where is it?” Peter turned his head, but his vision was still blocked from the map.

Karen responded, “Under that fountain. I’ve scanned the carvings in the marble. If you press the eye of the figure on the top, it should open and lead you to the entrance.”

“I knew it. Wait till I shove it in her face. It’s exactly like Harry Potter! Thanks, Karen.”

“Happy to help, Peter.” Peter’s vision turned back to normal. He vaulted himself over the balcony, and landed right next to the fountain. Every civilian had cleared out of the square after they saw Peter jump down and run into the cathedral, so he stepped into the water, soaking his clothed feet. He was suddenly very glad that his suit had warmers that could dry him up. Peter was met face to face with a lion, spewing water from the top of the fountain. 

Peter pushed his right eye, and it glowed an eerie shade of green before the entire column that held the lion folded in on itself, and fell into the middle of the fountain, revealing an enclosed tunnel with rungs of a ladder. The rungs led to the bottom of another space Peter couldn’t see. 

Stepping carefully down each rung, Peter made it to the bottom. He turned around, and saw an endless expanse of concrete tunnel, almost like a sewage pipe (minus the sewage). From what he saw on the map, he had to go straight for four miles. Then, he’d ask Karen to lead him down the winding path into the scary enemy lair. Sadly, the spidey suit didn’t have super speed, so he’d have to go at a light jog for a bit and take some breaks to make sure he could save Eliza and not be completely exhausted. Peter wished he could be like Eliza, and turn into a mountain lion, or some other animal that was fast.

Peter suspected Eliza wasn’t awake, because she would have escaped already and would’ve contacted Peter or SHIELD. It was easy to turn something small and run away, Peter knew that. The radio connection was cut off from Eliza because she left her mask behind, so he was entirely on his own. Taking a deep breath, Peter started to jog down the tunnel, leaving his mind to wander on its own.

At around a mile and a half in, Peter heard clunking noises from above himself. It must’ve been construction, still, it scared him. He’d tried to contact Happy while he was running, but the metal all around him had cut off his connection. Wheezing for breath, Peter stopped at two miles to walk for a bit. He couldn’t believe that Black Widow had trained Eliza. It made sense: her skill at self-defense and a ton of other martial arts Peter couldn’t name explained that. He’d seen her teacher on the battlefield, once in Germany and right before the blip. That was the last time he saw her, but it made Peter wonder, when was the last time Eliza saw her?

There were a lot of things about Eliza that Peter questioned. Where were her parents, if they were alive? How did Tony find her? Did SHIELD get Black Widow to train her? What were those scars on her neck? What happened to her parents, if they were dead? The questions never really stopped, but Peter somehow knew he could trust her. Maybe his trust meant nothing. Nevertheless, he couldn’t let her die.

After jogging some more, Peter asked Karen where to go next. “Take your first right, then walk for .4 miles.” Peter followed her directions, and was faced with another cement tunnel, with four openings on each side. “I detect a threat in the tunnel that leads the quickest way to the cavern. You can take another route, but it will reroute you, and you will have to walk another three miles.”

“Can you detect what the threat is, Karen?” Peter asked, hearing his voice quiver.

“A human, he is armed.” Peter saw an x-ray vision down the first tunnel on his left. He could see the gun the man was holding and his body heat on the thermal scanner. He seemed to be guarding the door to the cavern. Peter nodded, and turned left, going at a run. He followed the tunnel as it curved, and saw the man with the gun, who was caught off guard screaming in Portuguese. Peter tapped his web shooter, pulling the gun with his arm. It clattered to the ground. The guard ran at him, pulling a knife from his belt.

The LED lights above Peter flickered, and at the very last second, he jumped through the legs of the guard, catching him off guard again. Peter grinned to himself, feeling way more confident. Maybe he did have a chance at beating Eliza when they would spar, he thought as he dodged the jabs of the guard’s knife. 

He disarmed the guard with a simple kick to his arm, and he rammed his foot into the guard’s chest, watching the man hit the concrete hard. The guard’s eyes lolled to the back of his head, and his head fell back with a plunk on the concrete. Once Peter saw that his chest was rising, and he was breathing normally, he looked back to the door that led to the cavern. It was bolted into the cement across every inch of the doorframe, and it had a small device next to the rodded handle that looked like an entry for a passcode.

Peter walked back to the unconscious guard and checked his pockets for any slip of paper that had a code. Hopefully, the man had a bad memory. After scouring the front pockets, Peter grabbed at his back pockets and threw out a used tissue in disgust. Then, he realized the tissue wasn’t used, and that black ink was visible through the fabric. Peter plucked it off the ground, and almost jumping up and down in excitement, saw the six-digit code for the door. 

After every number was pressed, the door clicked, and Peter was able to swing it open with ease. The door led to another hollowed out tunnel that looked almost like a cave system. Peter was really starting to get tired of tunnels. He shook his head and exhaled, carefully stepping on the gravelly floor. Karen directed him down the tunnel for another five minutes when it finally began to open up. No one seemed to be close to him, as all he could hear were his feet shuffling on the ground. 

Peter neared the cavern, and from the tunnel, looked to see wisps of blonde hair on the ground. He ducked his head, and saw Eliza, her eyes closed and her arms sprawled about as if someone just dropped her and left her on the floor for later. Peter scrambled to her side, laying her head in his lap, checking her pulse. He pulled his mask off, his face hit with a musty smell. Eliza seemed to be unscathed, so Peter began shaking her. “Eli, Eli, wake up.” He lowered his voice as much as possible. After a few more shakes, Eliza’s eyelids fluttered open, and Peter got a feeling of deja vu as her pale blue eyes glowed again, an electric blue that paralyzed Peter the same way he had felt before. 

The glowing subsided, and Eliza moaned, “What happened?” She pushed herself off of Peter and sat up, looking pale.

“I don’t know. You were screaming for me but when I came into the cathedral you were gone.” Peter watched as she looked around the gray cavern. Oil lamps illuminated the humid area. “Your eyes glowed again.”

Eliza gulped, and tightened her ponytail. “Why does that keep happening?”

Peter shrugged, “You tell me,” He handed Eliza her mask, “Let’s see what we can find in this place. I have the flashdrive, but I want to look for more information.”

“Okay,” Eliza put on her mask, and Peter did the same, “Have your AI system scan your surroundings.”

“Her name’s Karen.” Peter felt a grin tug at his lips. He could almost see Eliza roll her eyes. 

“Fine, have Karen scan our surroundings. They’ve got to have a computer, files, something that gives us an idea of their plans.” Eliza spoke to her AI system, trying to call Happy.

Karen pulled up another scan, and Peter saw other shapes past the rocky walls, “It won’t work. I’ve got no signal down here. It’s the metal from the pipes.”

“Pipes?”

“Yeah, I had to run four miles of tunnel before I got here. And guess what? The entrance was in the fountain. Just like Harry Potter!” Peter laughed.

Eliza shook her head and snorted, “I guess you proved me wrong. Feels good, huh?” Peter walked closer to the wall, running his hands along the surface, looking for another secret door of sorts. “Hey, thank you.”

Peter turned back around at Eliza. “Yeah, of course. I couldn’t let you get hurt.” The two of them jumped as they heard a creak close by. Eliza disappeared from Peter’s sight, and Peter scream-whispered, “What do we do?”

“Hide!” Eliza scream-whispered back. Peter looked at his surroundings. There was absolutely nothing he could hide behind. The cavern was empty. Thinking quickly, Peter shot a web above his head, and pulled himself up, sticking every limb to the top of the cavern wall.

Peter held his breath. The same man that Peter and Eliza had seen from the town square came into the room. When he saw that Eliza was missing, he ran back through the entrance. The two of them could hear him howling orders in Portuguese to other people. He exhaled and took another breath after the man was gone for a minute or two.

He dropped down onto the floor, and Eliza reappeared. She whispered. “My AI found a room. It’s right below us, but we can’t walk out of here to get there.” 

“What do we do?” Peter said hoarsely. He had said that a lot today.

Eliza pulled something from her belt. Peter realized that it looked very similar to Natasha Romanoff’s. It was a ballpoint pen, but when Eliza uncapped it, a red laser burst out of it noiselessly. In less than twenty seconds, Eliza cut a hole through the floor of the cavern, and a crash of rock hit the tiled floor peering through the hole. “Let’s go.” Eli instructed, dropping through the opening. Peter followed her, and when he hit the ground, he instinctively dropped to a squat, his hand touching the floor. 

Bright lights blinded him for a second. Peter blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting. The room around them looked like a normal office. Desks were pushed to the walls with ancient-looking computers on them. The walls themselves were a beige color, cracks in each corner. Peter felt a tingle run down his spine as he saw dust and cobwebs coating the overhead lights. Eliza parked herself right in front of one of the computers, and groaned as Peter watched her realized there was a password on it. “Hand me the flashdrive and watch the door.” Peter did as he was told, and heard Eliza clacking away on the keyboard behind him.

“Did you, like, go to a hacking class at SHIELD along with training lessons?” Peter folded his arms, bouncing between his feet as he observed the chipped wood of the door.

Eliza’s eyes scanned back and forth on the monitor, “Kinda,” she began to open multiple files that looked like detailed floor plans, “I begged my parents to let me be an agent like them. They talked to Hill about it, and she taught me code while Nat taught me basically anything that had to do with fighting.”

Peter was surprised. He meant his question to be a joke. “Oh. So, you were basically an assassin from the age of…”

“Nine.” He saw Eliza huff out a breath, and with a tap of the finger, he watched as something began to upload onto the flashdrive. He guessed they would open everything later.

Peter wrung his hands together, “Right.” All of a sudden, screams burst out from above them, and Peter realized that it would be pretty obvious if there was a hole in the cavern floor. In a panicked voice, he said, “We gotta go.” 

Luckily, the computer finished uploading the files just as he said it. Eliza ripped the flashdrive out of the computer, pushing Peter to get him to open the door. “Uh huh,” She said, obviously worried as Peter pulled the creaky door open, “Run.”

[kriscynical]

Kris’s Trial of the Sword Tips

There are some tips out there that I thought were pretty common knowledge when it comes to defeating the Trial of the Sword, especially the Final Trials, but after I made that post last night and chatted with a couple people, I guess... they’re not as common as I thought? 

Given this apparent fact, here are my tips for getting through the trials.

Some of the following information might seem like dumbass obvious stuff to most of you, but if even one person hasn’t thought of it or didn’t know about it, it’s worth including! This is the stuff that I found most helpful for my own playthroughs.

(Cut to save your dashes because this got decently long.)

Learn how to Perfect Guard/shield deflect guardians. The Eastern Abbey on the Great Plateau is a great place to practice the timing for it (a split second after the eye turns blue, usually... you develop a rhythm pretty quick) with the handful of stationary guardians that are peppered around. Saving right before confronting the first one gives you an easy way to go back again and again and again, especially if you blow through all of your shields really fast while you’re learning. Being able to shield deflect guardian beams will help you a lot because while you run into a couple guardian stalkers in the Middle Trials, you will deal with a LOT of guardians in the Final Trials including stalkers, turrets, and the skywatchers (I %*&$#-ing hate those little bastards with the fire of a thousand suns because I can never shield deflect them correctly!).

Watch the strat video by Austin John Plays on YouTube (a few of these tips come from that video). I don’t think every one of his tips are really sound (I took a lot of damage trying to do some things the way he suggested because they were overly tedious for my style of gameplay, so don’t take it as gospel), but overall I’ve found it to be really helpful. Your mileage will vary. (x)

Set your Sheikah Sensor to treasure chests. You WILL miss them otherwise, especially the buried one next to the skull cave on Floor 2? of the Middle Trials and the ones encased in ice in the Final Trials.

You can’t carry weapons or armor into the trials, of course, but you CAN carry in an already activated food buff. Exploit the hell out of this.  

Cook yourself the strongest, longest lasting defense buff in the game by combining 1 dragon horn shard and 4 armored porgies. It will give you a level 3 defense buff and the dragon horn shard will make it last for 30 minutes, which is the longest possible buff.

If you haven’t finished all 120 shrines and are short of the 30 heart mark, cook up whatever hearty food you need to max out your temporary hearts going in. Any help you can get to start with is invaluable.

If you have finished all 120 shrines and have a full stamina gauge and 26 hearts (the way I personally like to play the normal game itself), use the horned statue in Hateno to swap out your stamina for 30 hearts. I barely use the aerial archery slow down during the trials (save for Floor 4? of the Middle Trials with all the wind and elemental boko archers, but I still had enough stamina to get the job done), climbing is minimal, and hearts are far more valuable. Even with 30 hearts you’ll still have more than enough stamina to climb whatever you need to in the trials.

Save right next to the pedestal where you start the trials -- before eating your buffs -- so if you die, you don’t lose the buffs you just cooked.

Eat your hearty buff first to get your temporary hearts if needed.

Eat your defense buff and IMMEDIATELY drop the Master Sword into the pedestal to start the trials so you can take advantage of every second of that 30 minutes. It took me roughly an hour and 40 minutes to get through the Final Trials, an hour to get through the Beginning Trials, but only 29:30 to get through the Middle Trials. Don’t ask me how that ended up working because I have no idea.

If you reach a rest floor before your defense buff wears out (and I hope to god you do because you’re in bad shape if it takes you 30 minutes to get through ~six floors!) and you need to eat immediately to heal, be very careful to make sure your status effect ingredients cancel each other out when you cook. Otherwise you’ll cancel out your remaining defense buff if you eat something with a new buff effect! This seems obvious but I was almost stupid enough to do that my first time through, so...

This shouldn’t need to be said, but cook every hearty foodstuff you get individually, even if you don’t have 30 hearts. Extra temporary hearts aren’t going to do you as much good as a full health restore will, and each individual hearty item will, of course, fully replenish your health and give you at least one temporary heart if your health gauge allows it.

Don’t try to conserve your weapons by bombing wooden supply boxes and barrels if you have a defense buff (or any stat buff) running. Just use an ax or two-handed weapon. Bombing wastes a HUGE amount of time because you have to go on a chicken hunt for the supplies it just scattered in all directions, and you’re liable to miss something. When every apple is critical, you don’t want this to happen.

Do not stay on the raft in Floor 11 of the Beginning Trials. You’re a sitting target for every bokoblin along the way, and their arrows HURT. I had much more success -- and less damage taken -- by hopping off the raft and swimming over to the nearby rocks that have a chest hidden in them.

Always always always try to knock moblins and bokoblins into deep water. They can’t swim, and they instantly die. Wood weapons/shields will float and any metal weapons/shields can be retrieved from the water with Magnesis.  

Remote bombs float in updrafts. I forgot this at first when it came to the elevated chests in the wind floors of the Middle Trials. Just drop one and let it float as high as it will go. It’ll be high enough to break the platform to get the chests.

For wizrobes floating over bottomless abysses in the wind floors of the Middle Trials: make sure they’re not over a platform, Stasis them, and shoot them in the head with a normal arrow. When Stasis wears off they’ll fall into the bottomless pit and be considered dead.

Don’t bother trying to lure the stalkoblins to rusty weapons to be struck by lightning in the first few floors of the Final Trials. Odds are you’ll get electrocuted while you’re at it, and that shit hurts. 

Fire weapons keep you warm when equipped in cold areas. Pick up the Meteor Rod from the wizrobe in the earlier floors of the Final Trials and keep it on you for as long as possible in the cold floors, only unequipping it to fight something. If you’re quick, you won’t take any cold damage. It can also let you delay in eating your cold resistance food, especially if you’re not mortally hurting for hearts yet.

When you receive the thunder blade from the Stalnox in Floor 5 of the Final Trials, use it to disarm all the enemies you come across from there on out. Do not fight with it! You don’t want it to break. Just swing it once to make the enemy drop its weapon, steal the weapon, then equip something else to finish them off. Yeah, getting kicked by a moblin hurts when you’re in nothing but firebreaker pants, but it hurts a hell of a lot less than getting whacked by a moblin’s knight’s claymore. 

You can one-shot kill Lynels with ancient arrows! I thought this was well known, but I guess not! It creates a vortex behind them that sucks them in, and the trials count it as a kill. I don’t recommend doing this in the game itself, though, because that vortex sucks in all the Lynel’s weapons and stuff, too, so you don’t get any spoils. Because you technically cheated. But all is fair in the Final Trials because holy shit biscuits.

Save all of your bomb arrows for the Final Trials Floor 21 with the one guardian skywatcher. Climb up on one of the pillars to get above it and try to disable all of its propellers with bomb arrows and then spin attack with two handed weapons to take it out once it’s on the ground. Screw trying to shield deflect.

On Floor 22 of the Final Trials, skirt around the left hand wall to take out the guardian stalker first, then the skywatcher, and then the turret. This will keep more than one of them from detecting you at once.

On Floor 23 of the Final Trials, after immediately shooting the Lynel in the face with an ancient arrow, just pick off the mounted bokoblins with a bow stronger than 13. 2/3 of your bow stash should be over 20 by then and the trials are plenty generous with arrows if you destroy every box and barrel you see up until that point. Don’t mess with Stasis or any nonsense like that. It wastes time and gives them a chance to hit you while Stasis cools down. If you try to climb the only good tree in the area, the guardian turret will lock on to you and you’re screwed. Stay on the ground and hide behind that tree for cover.

And that’s all I’ve got! Hopefully any of you who have been struggling with the trials will be able to make a little headway with some of this information.

Good luck!

[emperorsfoot]

Ugh. I’m having so much trouble writing this one scene in my fic. I have had to delete the scene and start over twice now. After two deletions, this will be the third time I’m trying to write this bitch. 

But enough complaining.

How would you guys like to deleted content? Exclusive for my Followers here on Tumblr. AO3 and ff.n ain’t gonna see this shit! 

Click the “Keep Reading” for shitty deleted fan fic content!

At first I had Kevin attacking first. In canon, he’s always been the aggressive one and having lived in the Null Void for as long as he has, he would have learned from experience that hesitation would get a person killed. But I scrapped that idea when I remembered that Kevin is -technically- supposed to be one of the good guys, and good guys don’t hit first. So, that’s why this draft was scrapped.

Kevin didn’t wait for the other two to attack. He went on the defensive first, morphing one arm into a spiked mace and the other into a hammer. Blunt melee weapons worked better in the close quarters of the cave passage.

Ducking low under the tattoo guy’s blaster –an almost ancient piece of tech that probably didn’t have enough charge to do more than stun anymore- the Osmosian delivered a sharp uppercut to his chin with his hammer-hand. Knocking the tattooed alien backwards, causing him to drop his gun. Kevin kicked it away immediately.

The other one came up on Kevin’s side with twin knives. Mean looking things, double edged, with hooked tips, and serrated on one side. The Osmosian threw up an arm to avoid being stabbed in the eye –one of the only place on him not covered in stone armor. The rock of his armor cracked and chipped away under the serrated edges of the twin blades.

“Ooh, look out. We got a badass over here.” Scoffed the Osmosian, not impressed. He’d had his armor chipped off and even broken by enemies before, it was nothing new or special. Hell! A Forever Knight once chopped his whole fucking hand off! Using his enemy’s closeness to his advantage, Kevin head-butted the alien, his stone forehead colliding with the alien’s fleshy nose-hole.

He staggered backwards to where his tattooed companion was picking himself up off the ground. Both aliens paused, looking Kevin up and down, reassessing the enemy they’d stumbled upon in the cave. Without even looking at each other or making any visible signs of agreement, both men began backing out of the passage slowly. They did not turn their backs on Kevin and Ben, not even when they were practically back outside.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad.” Ben commented to his own companion.

Kevin shot him an exasperated look. “There’s more of them out there, dumbass. Those were Neths. They travel in packs of five to seven and they don’t take kindly to being beaten by people who aren’t members of their tribe.”

Admittedly, they didn’t like being beaten by members of their own tribe either, but that was an immaterial detail. A more material detail that the Osmosian chose not to share was that they were also cannibals. They survived –some might argue thrived- in the Null Void by eating other sentient beings. They would not hesitate to eat Kevin and Ben if they beat them in a fight, and the two of them would definitely be outnumbered.

“I’m sure we could talk to them.” The Hero of the Universe assured him in his best ‘symbol of hope and justice’ voice.

Kevin placed a hand against the cave wall to reapply his armor, repairing the cracks and replacing the chipped bits. This was gonna be a fight he would not enjoy and from the sound of it, Ben wasn’t gonna be much help. “Hey, Tennyson, remember that time when we were kids and forced to fight in a no-holds-barred death match, and I bit some guy’s head off?”

“Yeah…?” Ben ventured cautiously. That was back when Kevin was a bad guy. Back when he was a mutated and deformed, emotionally unstable, and mentally unbalanced pubescent child with more power than his small body could hold or that his young mind could understand. In short, back when Kevin was bat-shit insane and expressed himself through violence.

“That’s it.” The Osmosian shrugged.

Fresh armor applied, the Kevin sprinted to the passage entrance, hoping to get out into open ground before the rest of the raiding party came in after him and Ben and they were pinned in.

There was a total of five of them. The two males Ben and Kevin had already met and three females –also all from different species. Five of them and five Null Guardians –including Kevin and Ben’s own from Incarcecon. Kevin’s Null Guardian was struggling against two aliens pulling on its bridal. No doubt trying to steal the beast for themselves. Already broken and trained Null Guardians were valuable in the Void, and if an animal refused to be obedient to new masters, it could always be eaten as food instead.

The two from the cave passage ran up to the rest of the group. Kevin caught up to the slower of the two, the one covered in tattoos, grabbed him with one arm, morphed the other into a blade, and stabbed the alien in the back. Blood spurted out from the exit wound theatrically, spattering the ground and the water with dark violet droplets.

Letting the body drop to the ground, the Osmosian stepped over it and raised his now bloody stone blade, pointing it at the two trying to steal his Null Guardian. “Get your fucking hands off my ride!”

They were paying more attention to the body of their companion he’d just killed than his face. They didn’t recognize him as Kevin 11,000.

Ben came up to Kevin’s side. “Did you kill him!?” He demanded, horrified at his frienemy. “Why’d you kill him? I told you we could talk to them instead!”

The Osmosian just shot him an exasperated look. Ben just didn’t understand the Null Void.

That exasperated look was about all Kevin had time to reply with. The remaining four aliens recovered quickly from seeing their companion stabbed, and drew weapons of their own. Long curved knives, giant heavy axe-like blades, chains with spiked maces.

The one with the mace on the chain attacked first. Spinning the chain rabidly to build up momentum as she rushed forward to close the space between her and the Osmosian. She threw the chain, the momentum of its spin and the weight on the mace entangling it around Kevin’s stone shoulders like a bolo-snare. The Osmosian snarled wordlessly and flexed his muscles, trying to wriggle free of the bonds, but all he succeeded in doing was crack the stone of his armor.

The other three closed in on him, the two other females and the pierced, bone-jewelry wearing male from the cave.

Seeing that they were focusing all their attention on him –basically writing Ben off as a non-threat- Kevin changed his tactics. Dropping the stone of his armor for a hot second, the Osmosian instead absorbed the metal of the chain holding him, exchanging the rock for a more effective alloy armor. This time when he flexed his muscles, the chain broke.

Just in time for Kevin to dodge an attack from another one of them.

Throwing himself at the ground and rolling away before the Bone-Jewelry could bring his hooked knives down on Kevin’s neck.

“A little help would be nice, Tennyson!” The Osmosian snarled at his own companion. “You gonna go alien or what?”

“If you hadn’t attacked first, I wouldn’t have to!” Ben snapped back, his hand going to the Omnitrix. There was the trademark flash of green light. Where Ben had been standing before there was now- “Big Chill!”

“Back to calling out your aliens’ names, I see.” Kevin observed. That was something the Hero didn’t do over a year ago when they fought after Devlin helped him escape the Null Void.

Ben did not comment. Kevin had his angsty phases that lasted years at a time and Ben had his. It wasn’t worth discussing –especially not in the midst of a battle.

Their four attackers paused, seeing the human transform into a Necrofriggian. They didn’t recognize Kevin as Kevin 11,000. But they sure as hell recognized Ben as Ben 10,000. But they didn’t hesitate long. Ben 10,000 might not have put any of them away in the Null Void personally, but other Plumbers had and Ben 10,000 was the poster boy for the Plumbers. So he was the lightning rod for all the hatred and vengeance towards the Plumbers. Not just condemning them to the Null Void in the first place, but placing the Rooters in the Void, releasing Way Bads into the Void, abusing the prisoners of Incarcecon, dealing out judgment and sentence as if they were a law unto themselves. Every way the Plumbers had wronged them or members of their group was projected onto Ben.

Forgetting Kevin for the moment, all four of them pounced on Ben.

The guy with the knives slashing at Big Chill’s chest and belly. While the woman with the axe-like blade tried to bring her weapon down in his head. The woman who’s chain Kevin had broken picked up on of her spiked mace balls and threw it as Ben. The Necrofiggian dodged all of these attacks with a kind of clumsy franticness, moving one way to avoid a slash, turning intangible for the axe to pass through him. Before finally remembering that he had wings and jumping into the air.

“Hey!” Ben said, shouting at Kevin, not his attackers. “I thought you said you weren’t gonna let anyone else beat the shit out of me!”

“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t let them get in a couple good licks.” The Osmosian informed his companion.

But, still, it wasn’t wise to play around when your opponents were Neths.

Picking up a length of the broken chain, Kevin came up behind its former owner. He had the links around her neck before the woman even knew what was happening. Pulling tight, cutting off her airway. There was always some variance between different species of the universe. But, generally, if a creature walked upright and had a neck raising its head above the shoulders, then squeezing said neck would cut off its air supply and –if not kill it- at least cause it to pass out. It seemed this female’s species was no exception to this rule.

The moment she realized what was happening, the her own weapon was wrapped around her throat, and she couldn’t breath, she began to claw madly at the chain and Kevin’s cold metallic hands.

The Osmosian only pulled tighter.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, as strangled choking sounds came from her throat. Her body making desperate attempts to gulp in air through a pipe that was being pinned shut.

...

This second attempt I had both Kevin and Ben on the defensive, both protecting each other and the Null Guardian that was carrying them around the Null Void. I deleted this draft because the way things were flowing it felt like Kevin and Ben could win (and win easily, too) when I wanted it to be either a hard win that Kevin would have to use his powers of absorption on one -or more- of their opponents to beat. Or else, have Kevin and Ben lose and have Kevin have to absorb one of the aliens in other to escape. Basically, I wanna force Kevin into using the aspect of his powers that he never uses unless he’s already a bad guy. I wan good!Kevin to absorb living beings. So, that’s why this scene was scrapped. 

The Osmosian shoved him out of the way facing the cave entrance. One hand pushing Ben behind him like a helpless civilian in need of protection, the other hand groping at the rock wall to absorb the stone and cover himself in armor. His eyes did a quick scan of the cave, even though he already knew that there was only one entrance and exit. So long as there were hostiles poised outside, they were pinned down and trapped –and Kevin knew they must be hostiles, because this was the Null Void. It did not serve to give people the ‘benefit of the doubt’. Even ‘good people’ had to look out for themselves and more often that not, that meant having to steal from or kill other people.

No sooner had Kevin done this, then two aliens appeared in the passage, weapons already in hands, eyes alert, to scout the cave. A Null Guardian wearing a saddle outside meant there was a rider inside.

Kevin pressed Ben farther behind him, forcing the other man flat against the wall. With his armor made from the same stuff as the asteroid, Kevin could blend in and camouflage easily, especially in the shadows of the dark cave. Ben, in all his white and electric green would stand out like a neon sign saying ‘Please kill me’.

The Osmosian took the opportunity of the intruders not seeing him yet to study them. Both alien, but of two clearly different species. Wearing clothing made from mismatched pieces of leather, or at the very least hideof some kind. Wearing jewelry made from bones. One sported a necklace made from a Vulpimancer rib, with matching earrings that dangled Vulpimancer teeth off wire links, an eyebrow piercing that looked like a Quilcupine finger with one end filed down, and a chain of mismatched vertebra from different aliens around his waist. The other was much more conservative when it came to jewelry, just a lei of fingers around his neck, but every bit of visible blue skin was covered in interlocking tattoos. Some just abstract lines looping around each other, others very clear and distinct images, aliens they had killed or enemies they’d beaten, perhaps figures from his mythology.

It was a quick study. All at a glance, really. But one glance was all the Osmosian needed to know who they were.

Neths.

A Neth raiding party had stumbled on them.

Being one of the few locations with naturally occurring water in the Null Void, the asteroid saw a relatively large amount of traffic. The chances of running into someone here were almost guaranteed. But running into Neths was just plain bad luck!

“Who are they?” Ben asked in Kevin’s ear.

Unfortunately for them, even the soft whisper echoed off the wall Ben was pressed against, drawing the attention of the two Neth scouts. Both aliens pointed their weapons at the part of cave the sound had come from and finally noticed the odd man-shaped rock formation that was Kevin.

The Osmosian suppressed the urge to groan. Ben really didruin everything.

The pair didn’t hesitate. The moment they saw movement, they knew they had found the riders of the Null Guardian outside. They rushed forward, weapons up and ready for the kill.

Kevin blocked the first onslaught with his stone body, the rock of his armor cracking under their weapons.

The tattooed one swung at him with the butt of an old and outdated blaster rifle. The thing was so old its power chamber was rusted shut. It might be gun shaped, but it wasn’t useful for much more than a club now.

The one with all the bone jewelry went low. Ducking under his companion to stab up at Kevin’s kidneys with twin knives. Mean looking things, double edged, with hooked tips, and serrated on the back side. If Kevin hadn’t been covered in a thin skin of rock, there was no doubt in his mind that the blow would have penetrated him and he already be bleeding out. If the initial stab didn’t do him in, being torn up by the serrated edge, or the hook ripping out his insides on the withdraw definitelywould have.

Luckily for him, all the attack did was crack his armor with the uncomfortable scraping sound of metal against stone.

In his peripheral vision, the Osmosian caught the tell-tale flash of green light that meant Ben had just transformed and Kevin would be lying if he didn’t admit that a feeling of complete and total relief washed over him. Calm, even. Ben might be an obnoxious glory hound with an ego the size of a To’kustar. But, gosh darned it, he was the Hero of the Universe, damn it! And he rarely lost a fight. As long as Kevin had Ben on his side, the two were practically invincible.

There was a gust of frigid air that even the Osmosian could feel under the rock of his armor. Then the tattoo guy with his blaster-club was frozen in place. Ice covering him from feet to shoulders.

Both Kevin and the remaining Neth attacker looked at Big Chill, the Necrofiggian filling the narrow space of the corridor with his impressive wingspan.

“Personally, I wouldn’t have chosen a flyer in such close quarters.” Commented the Osmosian.

“I was trying for Spidermonkey.” The Hero admitted.

The Omnitrix might be perfect now and no longer malfunction, but Ben would still always be Ben. A little clumsy and prone to mistakes. Asmuth had confirmed that any time the Omnitrix gave Ben the ‘wrong’ alien now, was due to human error and not any fault on the part of the device. Ben was just dumb. But then, he wouldn’t be Ben if he weren’t.

Seeing that his companion was now frozen and immobilized, the Neth quickly realized that he was out numbered, and out gunned as far as powers went too. He began to back up out of the cave entrance. Making a tactical retreat to where there were reinforcements outside and completely abandoning his companion still frozen and unable to move.

“Follow him.” Kevin commanded. “Neths travel in parties of five to six. We’ll be out numbered, and in here we’re trapped.”

Ben moved quickly. He might be idealistic, naïve, and a little dumb –ya know, standard Hero personality- but he knew when to differ to his partner’s expertise. Kevin had spent far more time in the Null Void than Ben ever had. Kevin had livedin the Null Void! He knew what kinds of people also lived here, how dangerous they were, and what to do when you met them.

Flapping his dark blue wings, the Necrofriggian flew out of the cave just on the heels of Bone-Jewelry-Guy.

Outside there were three others waiting for him. So Kevin was right, these guys did travel in parties of five. They were all different species, no two of them from the same race. So, a group formed by alliances between prisoners sentencesed to the Null Void, not families that chose to immigrate like the Settlers.

Or, at least, that’s what Ben assumed. He didn’t spare much thought to it, they were in the process of pulling on the bridal of Ben and Kevin’s Null Guardian, trying to get the beast to come over and join their own mounts –of which there were only four. Five aliens, but only four mounts. So, someone was riding bitch and would likely want a ride of their own. Since the Null Void was populated by criminals and degenerates, Ben had no problem believing they were trying to steal his and Kevin’s Null Guardian. Preventing their main mode of transportation from being stolen took president over understanding the origins of such a diverse group.

“Hey!” Ben shouted at them, fluttering down –practically on top of the group- to place himself between them and the Null Guardian. “Anybody ever tell you that stealing’s wrong?”

He landed just as the one who attacked them in the cave came running up to the group, his bone jewelry clacking with every quick step, both serrated hook knives still gripped in his fists.

“There’s two of them.” He said, eyes flicking to Ben then back to the cave. “This ice moth, and a stone man.”

That was when Kevin came sprinting out of the cave. He morphed one arm into a hammer and the other into a long blade, ready for a melee. “’Stone man’? Try again, asshole!”

The group erupted into a bit of chaos.

Kevin went for the Neth holding the bridal of their Null Guardian. It hadn’t taken him long to come to the same conclusion as Ben, that they were trying to steal their Null Guardian. Raising his blade arm, the Osmosian would have chopped the woman’s hand clean off if she hadn’t dropped the strap and leapt away. She did a rather impressive backflip away, actually. Her spine bending in a way that would have left a human paralyzed after.

She landed on all fours, hands and feet with fingers and bare toes spread to absorb the impact of her landing. She hissed at Kevin, an unnerving sound somewhere between an angry cat, and a hostile snake.

Unintimidated, the Osmosian just snarled back. Open-mouthed, teeth displayed, showing that he was only stone on the outside, but inside he was soft, fleshy, meat.

Taking a step back, not taking his eyes off the enemies that surrounded them, Kevin stepped closer to their Null Guardian. He risked dropping his stone armor just long enough to absorb the metal of its bit and bridal.

The leaping hissing alien blinked at him for half a second. “You’re wearing Rooters armor.”

For the half a moment that was exposed in between matter release and matter absorption, his black proto-tech armor was visible, and clear, and very very indefinable as having been Rooters issued.

“Maybe I killed a Rooter and took his armor.” The Osmosian smirked at her.

“I’m gonna take your armor.” She smiled back at him. After all, proto-tech armor was virtually indestructible, pliant enough to stretch to multiple sizes and body shapes –within reason- and near impossible to come by honestly in the Null Void.

She did an unnerving little sideways scuttle that was uncomfortable for Ben to watch and he found himself having to look away for half a second. He really shouldn’t have. In the half-second the Hero of the Universe was looking away from their enemies, one of them came up on the Necrofriggian’s left and plunged sharp, curved, yellowing claws into his wing.

Ben yelped in pain and leapt back into the air, flying sort of lopsided now on account of his injured wing. He pounded a blue fist on the Omnitrix symbol on his chest, trying for a different flyer who hadn’t been injured. Like Jetray, or Stinkfly maybe. Instead, he plummeted back to the ground in a heap of blue fur and multiple limbs as Spidermonkey.

“See, now that would have been a good alien to use in the cave.” Kevin informed his frienemy.

“Oh, shut-up, Kevin!” Ben snapped at the older man. “No one asked you!”

There was the slightest of pauses as all four of their opponents exchanged a look, as if to ask each other, ‘Did he just say “Kevin”?’ But the pause was so slight, it was there and gone before either man had the chance to notice it. Besides, who cared if one of them was called ‘Kevin’. He clearly wasn’t theKevin. Kevin 11,000 –the King in the Void. Or else he would have just transformed and killed them all already.

The scuttling woman with the unnerving hiss leaped at the Osmosian, and wrapped all four limbs around him, arms and legs. Her limbs constricting tighter the moment her hold was firm. Squeezing the air out of him as if she were a terrestrial snake, constricting its prey. Kevin gasped for air, his eyes going wide when he realized what her plan was.

Gritting his teeth, the Osmosian focused on the metal armor covering his body, on the layer of metal covering his skin under her arms and legs. Usually, Kevin only shifted the shape of his hands or arms, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable of shifting his whole shape.

The alien woman yelped in pain, leaping back from the Osmosian to get away from the halo of sharp spikes that erupted out from his body.

Kevin gasped for air, oxygen flooding his system as his lungs were no longer constricted anymore.

Spidermonkey saw an opening and shot a web of sticky fluid at her, gluing the alien woman’s hands and feet to the ground. She hissed at them again, that same inhuman cat-snake hiss. But was able to do little else.

[formerprincess]

Our little paradise

Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken Words:  3118 Theo and Liam just enjoy a quiet afternoon after work. Just the two of them, no interruptions, and Theo could not be happier.

Also read on Ao3

Theo walked into the workshop and his nostrils flared when the familiar scent of gasoline, grease, sweat, and metal hit them. It was a scent he grew to like since he lived right above the workshop. He associated it with home, something Theo had not known for a long time. But things had changed since then, since he had come back to Beacon Hills to find a way into Scott McCall’s pack and destroy it from the inside, since the Dread Doctors, the Wild Hunt, the war. He had friends now, a pack even, and together they had graduated high school and even attended the same college. Yes, he, Theo Raeken, was part of something that wasn’t evil, wasn’t created to destroy something else. He was part of something good.

Good. Life was truly good, maybe even perfect, at the moment. Sure, there were still supernatural shenanigans happening, there were still hunters, and sometimes Scott had to call his gang together to defeat whatever came lurking, but they mostly had a regular life.

“I wasn’t aware you’re working as a pizza delivery guy now but I won’t complain either and gladly accept this. Just put the pizza here,” a deep voice shook Theo from his thoughts and he turned his head. The guy, Mojo, bigger than Theo himself (yes Theo was aware he wasn’t the tallest but this guy probably was taller than Derek Hale and twice as broad) with a buzz cut and a lightning bold shaved to the side of his head smirked at him. Theo had no idea how old Mojo really was, his guess would be 31/32 but really, it was just a guess. But Mojo was like a human teddy bear and incredibly funny. A woman with her brunette hair tied in a messy bun smirked and the corner of her eyes crinkled. “I’m sure this is just a bribe to let his other half leave earlier.” “Neither. This is our dinner and I will fight you both for this pizza,” Theo declared and grinned. “Yet, if you would let him leave earlier, Kiki…” The woman pointed a finger at him in a playful threat. “You’re getting way too sneaky, mister!” She laughed. “But who am I to get between guys and their dinner? He’s over there, showering his one true love with attention.” “I’m his one true love,” Theo reminded her with a chuckle but turned around again and ventured into the direction Kiki had pointed him. It wasn’t long until he reached the end of the bike shop and smiled at the picture in front of him.

Over the years Theo had not only found friendship and a place to belong, he had also found love. And that from a side he never expected it from in the beginning. Because if someone had told eighteen-year-old him he would be in love with Liam Dunbar, Scott’s angry Baby Beta, and they would be in a committed relationship, he would have laughed. Yes, Liam and he had become friends, but love? Even if Theo might have nursed a little crush on the younger man, Liam would have never returned his feelings. And yet, one of their many discussions had ended with Liam huffing out a breath and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I want to strangle you almost as much as I want to kiss you, asshole,” he had said and Theo was not proud of it but he had gaped at him. Liam had given him a funny look but then obviously registered what he had said because he started to gesticulate wildly and tried to explain himself. “Oh fuck! I didn’t want to tell you like that! This is not how I pictured it!” “You want to kiss me?” Theo had asked weakly and Liam groaned and his hand movements contained Theo’s whole appearance. “Can you blame me? You have this going on.” It had hurt to know Liam was attracted to him just based on his looks while Theo really fell in love with Liam’s everything, his looks as well as his good heart, but he had nodded and put on a brave face. “So you want sex.” Liam had shrugged. “Sex, dates, a relationship, the usual stuff, you know?” And again, Theo had gaped which caused Liam to roll his eyes. “Seriously? I’m aware I’m bad with words but I thought I made myself very clear right now. I am not only attracted to you because you’re hotter than the sun, but I also feel very attracted to your character and would very much like to date you. Stop staring at me like a freaking goldfish. Turn me down so we can go on with our normal lives and I can crawl into a hole and die of mortification.”

Theo’s brain had not functioned properly because he would have loved to tell Liam how amazing he was, how happy this made Theo, and waxed poetically about the other’s whole self, but he just had managed a weak “Yes.” “Yes, what?” Liam had asked. “Yes to the date. To all of it, really.” They had stared at each other, Liam with narrowed eyes while he tried to figure out if Theo was joking or not, Theo still trying to figure out what the hell happened. Long story short, both overcame the initial shock of the sudden reveal and had decided to try this relationship thing with each other.

Fast forward two, almost three, years and you had them today. Still absolutely in love, living together in the apartment right above the motorcycle workshop Liam worked in. Life could not be better for Theo at the moment: An amazing boyfriend, a cool apartment, and a job where he could be creative and express himself through his art. They had to thank Liam’s grandpa for finding this little piece of home. After his death, Liam had come in contact with his grandfather’s best friend Rod who owned the workshop. They had met to reminisce the man they both had held so dear and Rod had inducted Liam to the world of motorcycle and workshops, repair, and tunings, and also the joy of riding one of those steel horses. Ilona Geyer had not been overly excited to see her son on such a thing but after she realized how happy Liam was to ride a motorcycle she had caved in and smiled. The people working in the shop had taken a great liking to Liam- he was an adorable puppy when he wanted to be - and had soon become part of his family. Kiki and her husband Jay had taken over the shop when Rod had retired and offered Liam a job in their shop. Liam could do what he liked, work with the motorcycles and also work on his own motorcycle, a blue Harley Davidson Fat Boy, on the side, what else could be better. And Theo found a job at the tattoo parlor right next to the workshop. His boss Bean (“My name is Gregory but nobody calls me that! It’s Bean.”) was also a friend of Rod, Kiki, and the others and he and Theo talked often. He saw some of Theo’s drawings one day and offered to take him in as an apprentice. Theo had not really thought about doing a creative job but he took the chance because he was curious. And now he was a quite popular artist in the shop, had his regulars, and loved what he was doing. Tattoos were a way for people to express themselves and he loved to help them with it a little bit.

Several tattoos adorned his own body as well, the newest piece being a Dias de Los Muertos woman on his right shoulder blade. Liam had suggested that one special tattoo after Theo had awoken from yet another nightmare. He had said he liked the Mexican holiday and the thought that the dead were never that far away and instead watched over their families. His boyfriend had suggested it would help Theo cope with the lingering guilt about Tara’s death and see a slightly more positive outlook on death, maybe even the hope to once get the chance to make up with his sister. Theo had battled the thought for weeks, going over the pros and cons, and finally decided to do it. He now loved the ink on his skin.

He wasn’t the only one with tattoos on his skin. Liam, for example, had also taken quite a liking to the ink art. The head of a howling wolf on his leg, and several other motifs on his arms and back. The first two tattoos had been done by Bean but the rest, every single one after that, had been done by Theo. There was something about Liam not only wearing something he drew but something he inked on Liam’s skin. It gave him a strange sense of possessiveness and belonging.

Liam’s style had changed in general since the first time Theo met him. He wasn’t looking like America’s sweetheart anymore, not like the typical jock, but his style had become a bit rougher around the edges. Ripped jeans, leather jackets, punk shirts, and due to his work in the bike shop, more tanks, and flannels. It wasn’t unusual to find him with dirt and grease on his hands and on his face and the smell of gasoline and grease always merged with his natural scent. Theo was here for that, he loved his boyfriend looking like that. Liam’s hair was shorter these days, shorter than it had been in high school, but the manual work had given him a new body feeling and since he often worked outside and mostly in a tank, he had a nice tan going on. He looked ridiculously hot if you asked Theo but maybe he was a little biased (He, after all, knew what Liam could do with this body...)

When he found Liam now, the younger male knelt in front of his motorcycle and oiled it. He wore a white loose fitting tank top and dark jeans, littered with oil stains. It had been a bit colder in the morning so Liam had worn a white-red flannel shirt which was now wrapped around his waist. He had not spotted Theo yet, too focused on his task, and Theo smirked. He was like that when it came to tattoos. “I’m aware you love this thing a lot but I brought pizza.”

Liam looked up and smiled when he saw Theo. “Hey, you.” His blue eyes sparkled with happiness and he grabbed the cloth next to him to clean his fingers. “How could I say No to pizza?” “Just to pizza? Not spending time with me? I am hurt, Liam.” “I know I will never say No to spending time with you.” Liam stepped closer to Theo and kissed the corner of his mouth. “Stop being a drama king.” Theo pouted playfully. “Only if I get a real kiss.” “I am greasy and sweaty.” Liam laughed and it coaxed a happy smile from Theo. “Liam, we literally kissed when we were bloodied and full of Gargoyle slime. This will be half as bad.” “Okay.” Liam grinned and then captured Theo’s lips with his in a sweet kiss. Even after three years, it made Theo happy and he eagerly returned the kiss. “Come on, Kiki said you could leave,” he then told his boyfriend and motioned towards the back door of the shop. It was the fastest way to get to their apartment instead of walking around the whole garage. “Yeah, leave before you start making out on Liam’s bike like the last time!” Kiki called from somewhere and the two young men snickered. Liam threw his rag in a container. “See you tomorrow, guys!” He yelled and then left the workshop with Theo.

They reached their apartment over some stairs and Liam unlocked the door. The space above the shop had originally not even been an apartment, more like some unused space. Theo and Liam had taken a lot of time and effort to turn it into a loft-like apartment where they could actually live. It was big enough for the two of them and their two Tamaskan dogs Aka and Koda who now came to greet them happily and then returned to chewing their favorite toys. The apartment even held space enough in case they ever wanted to add another member to their family and adopt a child, but that was something they had not discussed yet and didn’t feel the need to at the moment. They were not even married yet and enjoyed their time together.

“I’m taking a quick shower, you can already start eating,” Liam muttered and pressed a quick kiss against Theo’s cheek when he walked towards the bathroom. The door closed behind him and Theo carried the pizza box into the kitchen to grabbed two glasses and two beers from the fridge and then carry everything out to their little balcony. It wasn’t big, but they had two comfortable benches with soft pillows and a little table gathered there to sit and enjoy summer nights. Even a little barbecue had found its place in a corner. The whole balcony was surrounded by plants. It had started with Liam’s mom giving them one plant when they finally moved into their apartment, and then Liam had claimed one looked like shit. Over time they had gathered various things to make the banister a little friendlier. It looked like a little green oasis in the middle of a meek and otherwise empty backyard.

Theo set everything down on the table and then just ventured into the apartment and the bedroom to change into comfortable sweatpants. When he walked back to the balcony, he plopped down on one bench and sighed. He opened the pizza box and both beers and took a slice of the greasy food. It smelled delicious and was just as tasty as you would think after you smelled it. It made his mouth water and he eagerly took a bite from his slice. Liam wouldn’t mind, he knew Theo hated cold pizza. Chewing he leaned back and enjoyed the rays of the evening sun on his face. The perfect way to end the day.

Liam joined him some minutes later, hair still wet and disheveled from the towel, clad in sweatpants and a hoodie. He sat down on the other bench and leaned back with a groan, stretched out. Theo chuckled. “Long day?” “Uh uh. We had a very demanding customer and you know I love challenges but that guy was really a bit too much and constantly changed things.” He scrubbed his hands down his face and then made grabby hands at the pizza. Theo nudged the box closer to him and watched his boyfriend devour a slice fastly. “That should be unattractive. Strangely, it’s not.” Liam gave him a pearly grin. “You find everything I do attractive,” he stated simply and raised one of the beer bottles. “Cheers.” “Not everything but a lot. Cheers.” Theo raised the other bottle and clinked them together. They both took a gulp from their bottles almost perfectly in sync and grinned. Over the course of their relationship they had grown so close, got to know each other on a whole new level, and those quiet moments felt really nice. They didn’t need to talk, just sitting there an enjoying the sun, finishing the pizza up between the two of them, and sipping their beer was enough to make them both happy and relax them both. 

Theo liked the silence with Liam. He also liked the talks he had with him, don’t get him wrong. He liked Liam’s voice, could spend hours hearing him talk about the things that excited him, but he liked how easy this was as well. He didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with words and he felt himself relax. Theo had always used words as a tool, something to use to get what he wanted in every regard, and he had strongly related to them at the beginning of their, well, everything. He had used his words against Liam, used them to rile him up and manipulate him, but then they had grown closer and words became not necessary anymore. They learned to rely on each other without words, learned to fight together without talking about a tactic before, learned how to be a team without saying much. Again, talking with Liam was great, but Theo had been afraid of the silence for years and Liam helped him overcome it, so now he could also enjoy the silence with his boyfriend.

Liam moved after a while and squeezed the empty pizza box until it got smaller. He got up and carried the trash into the kitchen to throw the box away. Theo smirked. They both weren’t the tidiest people on the earth but Theo hated empty pizza boxes lying around so Liam has picked up the habit of throwing them away as fast as possible. It was a nice gestured and another one of the many little things Liam did to show Theo how much he loved him. 

He walked back but instead of walking back to the bench he had sat before, he walked towards Theo’s bench. Theo moved so Liam could slip behind him and Theo could lean against his chest. Liam’s arms loosely wrapped around him and played with his fingers.  Theo tilted his head back and looked at Liam and the younger smiled but understood. He moved closer and gave Theo a gentle upside down kiss. Both chuckled in the end and then Theo curled up against Liam again and held his face into the sun.  “I love you,” Liam muttered and gently tugged at Theo’s hair with one hand. Theo moaned softly and let his head fell back against Liam’s shoulder.  “I love you too,” Theo replied softly. A huff next to him and Aka trotted into the sun and laid down there again. Koda chewed a bit more on his toy then he grabbed it and carried it outside as well to lay down next to Aka and continue playing. 

Liam kissed his temple, then he leaned back and watched the sun shining down on them and creating various forms on the wooden floor of the balcony and on the plants. “Our little paradise,” he said happily. Theo chuckled. “Our little paradise,” he agreed. It wasn’t a mansion, it wasn’t that much, but it was perfect for them and Theo was once again reminded life was pretty much perfect right now. 

Just something cute to enjoy the evening. I am really curious how you liked that little story. I just love the idea of mechanic Liam and tattoo artist Theo and the rest just happened. What do you say? Any comments/hopes/wishes/dreams? I'm thinking about making this a series and always adding random ficlets to it.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

All I Need is the Air

A/n: Chapter refers to the Scarlet Witch in some less than friendly terms. She’s not onscreen at all.

“Can’t you just do your bibbity bobbity boo schtick on him?” Tony perched on the branch over Bruce’s head, which gave him the illusion of being taller than the couatl. That was all it was, an illusion, and Bruce smiled tolerantly. He probably knew exactly what Tony was up to and letting him do it. They’d been friends for a long time.

Winter had stayed outside for a while, long enough to let Bruce look at him. Displayed his back, his wing, the stump end. With Tony’s gentle coaxing, Winter had let Bruce touch him, once, lightly, to test the strength of those muscles in his shoulder. Then, while Tony and Bruce discussed the logistics of the artificial wing, Winter seemed to lose interest. He scratched in the dirt for a while, at ease under the shelter of the coatl’s shadow.

Truly, no one had to be watchful; anything with even half a nose stayed out of the way of the winged snake. Bruce was both enormous and very serpent-like, eighteen feet long, at least, with a very long tail with a massive talon on each of the bifurcated ends. He moved, sinuous and graceful, with the same mesmerizing sway of the cobra and he was able to calm his prey with the same side-to-side movements. For a while, post Tony’s imprisonment; Tony had relied on Bruce’s soothing, hypnotic behavior to calm him, to let him rest. Strange, to rely on a predator that could have eaten him in a single gulp and had room for a whole nest more, but Bruce was one of the rare ones.

A predator that chose to recognize the intellect and souls of prey species. Bruce fed entirely on beasts, animals with no tool-building skills or community. “We must feed,” Bruce had told Tony, in the beginning, “but the thinking creature can make choices not to be cruel.”

After scraping up a few handfuls of grubs and beetles, Winter had taken his snack back into the nest to eat. The poor avian had not offered to share, which would have been polite, and Tony would have politely refused, but he couldn’t blame Winter for a lack of manners. Where would a slave have benefited from society?

“He’s traumatized, and he’s been in the tender care of Hydra for a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if they used some form of their own hypnosis to keep their slaves docile,” Bruce pointed out, bringing Tony back to the present. “If I start trying to put him under, it’ll work, but you’ll also lose all the ground you’ve gained, getting him to trust you.”

“I can’t believe you want me to go to the witch,” Tony grumbled. He had history with the Scarlet Witch, and none of it was good. For that matter, Bruce had history with the witch, and his history was decidedly worse.

“She’s trying to make amends,” Bruce pointed out. “And she’s an herb master. She’ll be able to mix something up to ease Winter’s pain, and let us help him.”

“But why do I have to go?” Tony was plaintive, whining like a child and he knew it. The Witch gave him a serious case of the creeps, and he didn’t want to leave Winter alone for the few days it would take to make the trip.

“You know why.”

(more below the cut)

Bruce didn’t like to talk about it, but when the Witch had torn him loose from reality, he’d done quite a bit of damage to a nearby village and the elves had still not forgiven him. He couldn’t forgive himself, so Tony supposed that was reasonable. The elves, however, were not allowing Bruce near their territory, and the route around would take weeks.

“All right, all right,” Tony finally caved. “I’ll go, but not now. I need to stay. Winter… needs someone around. He gets all… lost in his head. I don’t want him to wander away and get hurt.”

Tony would never, ever put limits on where Winter could go, or what he could do, and he didn’t give voice to the situation in terms of Winter running away, even though it was sort of what it would be. It wasn’t up to him; if what Winter needed was to leave, to find his own way, Tony would fight to the death for him to have that opportunity.

At the same time, he was pretty sure that the former slave would wander off, if someone wasn’t there to take care of him. Not because he thought Tony would want to chain him down, but because he was still scared and trying to deal with the huge reality that was a life without chains.

Tony knew that feeling; he’d been captive for a much shorter period of time, but when he was finally free again, he’d felt ill at ease in his own skin, going for long, brutally exhausting flights until his shoulders burned and his eyes were blurry, just because he could.

And Winter couldn’t even do that. Not yet.

Freedom wasn’t free. And there was going to be a cost involved, because there was no way Tony was just going to let the poor man wander, lost and alone, without even the means to defend himself.

“I should have a prototype ready by the crescent moon,” Tony said. “I’ll go after that.”

“You might want to show him,” Bruce said, reaching up with one overly large finger to tap Tony’s chest. “So he knows that he can trust you.”

Tony scowled, putting his hand over the arc reactor. He wasn’t ashamed of his adaptations, but avians looked at him with pity and disgust when they saw what he’d done to himself. And there had been those who tried to steal it for their own gain. Never again.

“You are meddling,” Tony accused Bruce, because it was true.

“I am only giving direction to your thoughts,” Bruce said. Which was also true. “You’d come to the same conclusions yourself, given time.”

Tony was gone to the market, bartering for food and supplies. It was, Tony said, one of the hardships of being a blacksmith. He had less time to forage. So, trading at the free markets was required. When Tony had mentioned it, Winter felt a deep seated shame: he was taking charity, siphoning off Tony’s supplies and giving nothing back. Exactly what the avians knew he would be doing, and exactly why they would kill him.

He kept thinking he should leave. But that was death, and Winter hadn’t yet decided that death was preferable. If not leaving, Winter should find some way to be useful on his own. To bring something into Tony’s nest. He would forage, he decided. He could do short patrols around the nest, scratch up grubs and worms.

Winter crept into the forge; Tony had invited him there several days before, but Winter hadn’t been able to bring himself to move into the weirdly lit room whenever Tony was there, banging on the metals. The sounds reminded him too much of the mines, the smell, the way smoke hung in the air.

He thought, perhaps, he might find a weapon here, something to keep him safer while he worked for his keep.

But also, curiosity drove him there, now that Tony was gone.

See what it was that his labor had bought for Tony, see what it was that drove the other avian to spend so much time there, among the heat and stench and glowing, orange light.

Tony had cleared a space along one wall; dozens of sheets of thinly woven cloth with inked designs were hung there. Winter examined each, closely. They looked like… wings? With sharp edges and impossibly straight feathers.

Winter stretched his fingers out and brushed them along the drawings -- he hadn’t seen much art before. Enough to know what it was, in a memory that wasn’t a memory, a dream that had happened, although it often seemed like those memories had happened to someone else. Some other Winter. The one called Bucky.

Tony had a lot of tables in his forge, covered with tools and bits of his heated rocks. Bins full of the stuff he called iron. Thin, impossibly tough vines of it -- wire, Tony had said -- and sheets and little knobs and nodules.

Winter lifted one of the thin pieces, held it up to the light. It glittered seductively; a thin rod up the center and hundreds of delicate barbs stuck out at precise angles.

“It’s a feather,” Tony said, and Winter nearly dropped it in shock. “Artificial, of course. A prototype. Unfortunately, iron molded that thin, it doesn’t hold its shape for actual flight; the material’s just… not well suited for that particular task. Decorative only. Maybe, once we get the flight model working, I can add some in, just for the aesthetics of it.”

“I’m sorry,” Winter said, putting the feather back down on the table. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, no, that’s fine. It’s for you, eventually. Come on, wanna look at the newest model?” Tony went to another table and whipped a large sheet of cloth off--

A wing.

A full framework, metal… wing.

It was…

Beautiful.

“I still have some adjustments to do,” Tony said, apologetic. “It’s not ready for a test flight, not yet, but soon, soon, I think I’ll have it, and… come here, don’t be shy, let’s see how it fits.”

Winter took a few, tentative steps forward until he could touch the wing. “For me?”

“Of course, for you,” Tony said. “Do you see anyone else around here who needs one? No. This is for you, everything I’ve been doing is for you. Now, we might want you to work-- actually, that’s a good idea, you’ll need to get those muscles back in shape. I noticed you walk a little… hunched over, I know, left over from protecting your stump but--” Tony reached and Winter couldn’t help it, flinched away, his wing coming up to shield him. “It’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just wondering if your stump’s strong enough to bear the weight of it, right now. Come here, come here, sit, sit. I’ll strap it on and we’ll see how it goes. I mean, for actual flight, we’ll need something a little more durable, but that’ll come after we test.”

Winter found himself pushed -- gently, so gently -- onto a bench. There was a hollow tube end that slid right over the stump with a leather harness that went around Winter’s chest to hold it in place.

“There, flex that, see how that feels,” Tony encouraged him. “Once you get used to that, we can add in the rest of the framework, and then hang your flight feathers onto it.”

Winter stretched; he’d barely moved the coracoid bone, all that remained of his wing, at all. With nothing on there, flapping the stump around had always made him feel nauseated, scared. His shoulder ached, just from moving it a few times, but he could move it, and the weight of the metal cap felt…

Good.

“Yeah, that’s the ticket,” Tony said. “We’ll want to work that out, a sort of… remedy routine or something, to make sure you get your strength back. No sense in getting you in the air if you can’t stay there, am I right?”

“You…”

Winter couldn’t breathe suddenly. He had been so overwhelmed by the way Tony jabbered at him, Winter hadn’t thought all the way through the implications. “You think I can fly, again? With this…”

“Contraption?” Tony suggested the word. “It’s certainly possible. It’s a theory, right now. But hey, gravity is a theory and look how well that works.”

“When?”

“As soon as you can lift and support the entire wing structure,” Tony promised. “Which should give me some time to make sure we have a kite for you.”

“A what?”

“I refuse to build something this beautiful and perfect and have you crash into the ground on a test flight,” Tony said. “So… a backup kite; a glider. With an automated deploy system, in case of critical failure.”

Winter nodded, slow. He wasn’t sure he needed a glider, whatever that was. If he was given this impossible, burning hope of being able to fly again, he was positive that he’d rather crash into the ground than lose the hope.

He tipped his face toward the sky, and even unseeing, he felt lighter, somehow.

“Tell me what to do.”

Once Winter had seen the wing, had gotten Tony to explain it to him, it seemed there was nothing Tony wanted to do more than talk.

The first few weeks that Winter had been in the nest, Tony had avoided him, as if disgusted by Winter’s wingless, crawling, revolting self.

But having seen the wonders that Tony created, given that skill its due adoration, it seemed Winter had won himself a place. Tony was alone, and avians, well, avians craved flock, didn’t they? Tony had been alone for a long time; he refused to say how long, refused to say why, beyond the fear most avians had of fire.

Winter wasn’t much a flock, but he was something, and Tony had been jabbering at him non-stop ever since.

Enough so that Winter had stopped cringing away and had started listening.

Tony had a sweet voice and the way his whole face animated when he was speaking, he was like the sun and the stars and the moon all at once.

Beautiful.

Which in turn was wonderful and tormenting at the same time. Winter would have stayed at Tony’s side, just to listen and watch and learn. But Winter had nothing to offer in return. No skills beyond that of digging rocks from the earth. He was useless. There were a few things he’d managed to find that he could do to help. Winter was strong; stronger by far than most avians; working the mines had given him arm strength and tougher bones than most of his kin. Winter could carry a load at least twice as heavy as what Tony could manage.

And Tony, it seemed, needed a keeper. Someone to bring him food, make sure he drank. Kept an eye on how many were left of those wretched little coffee beans that Tony ate constantly to give himself alertness beyond the normal means of avian endurance. Gently chivvied him away from the forge and into his nest to sleep.

“What is this?” Winter asked one day, finding a set of red-painted gloves; thick and plated, yet flexible. Winter couldn’t help running his fingers over the gauntlets, to feel the minute articulation in the joints. Each glove had a brilliant blue plate in the center of the palm, like a jewel.

“An experiment,” Tony said. There was a fey, suspicious light in his eyes, like he wanted to snatch the gauntlets away from Winter.

Winter took a cautious step away, putting his hands behind his back. He knew, instinctively, that his spine was curling, that he was lowering his head, don’t look at me, don’t notice me, I didn’t do anything.

“Hey,” Tony said, and he was a lot closer than Winter expected. “It’s okay, look. I just… avians don’t like it when I remind them how unnatural I am. But… you deserve better than that. I’m sorry, that’s a me-thing. I’ve learned not to share too much of myself with people.”

“It’s hard to unlearn,” Winter responded, because he knew that feeling, he knew it all the way down to his bones and the airsacks inside them. “But I don’t think you’re unnatural.” He waved a hand at all the wonders of Tony’s workshop and forge.

“You haven’t… okay, okay,” Tony said, taking a few deep breaths. He pulled off the leather apron he was wearing, then another, shuddering inhalation. “If I can’t trust you, I can’t trust anyone. Right?”

“You can trust me.” Winter put his hand on Tony’s arm, feeling the smooth skin, the play of muscle underneath. The way Tony was shaking with tension.

Tony nodded. Popped the shoulder clasps of his shirt and unbuttoned the side. Winter had wondered, before, about the covering. Most avains didn’t bother to wear any chest coverings, unless it was brutally cold. The material got in the way of flight, and they were awkward to put on and take off without help. Tony’s shirts were buttoned in such a fashion that he could take them off without too much trouble, or fouling his feathers.

When he finished, he straightened, and Winter suddenly understood why Tony always wore one.

The device that shone out of the middle of his chest was like nothing Winter had ever seen before. Luminescent, perfectly round, it was embedded there, held in a metal socket, glowing and making that soft whirring sound that Winter had caught the edges of before, but didn’t understand. It was… like a star. A shimmering jewel in the night sky that whispered secrets that Winter couldn’t possibly understand.

“What is it?” He reached out, wanted to touch it. Was it warm or cool? What did the surface feel like, ridged or silken smooth? He raised his eyes to look at Tony’s face. “It’s beautiful.”

Tony grabbed Winter’s wrist, his grip strong, steady. For a long moment, they stood like that, Winter unsure if he was being pushed away, and then Tony drew him in, slowly, until his fingertips rested against the pulsing machine.

“It keeps my heart beating,” Tony said. “Saved my life. I built the first one in a cave with a box of spare parts for humans who’d kidnapped me, wanting me to make weapons for them, the way Howard made weapons.”

“Humans?” Winter asked. He didn’t know humans were actually real. They were creatures of myth, legend. The origin, perhaps, of all the demihumans, nagas and avians and even such creatures like Bruce… or Pierce.

Tony nodded. “They exist. They exist and they’re brutal and uncaring and they live to make war on each other. The things they did, to make me do what they wanted--”

“You don’t have to speak of that,” Winter told him, because he already knew what it was to be worn down, made into a servant, a tool, through pain and loss. “I know… I know what they did to you.” He didn’t, not the details, but he couldn’t help but flex the stub of his wing. He knew. He knew too much.

“So, I built the arc-reactor, to keep my heart beating,” Tony said.

Winter wondered if Tony realized that he was still keeping Winter’s hand trapped over the reactor. He didn’t say anything, didn’t try to pull back. The reactor was strange, but it wasn’t frightening.

“And then I built these,” Tony said, releasing Winter and pulling on one of the gauntlets. He stretched his fingers out, then attached a little set of leather-wrapped wires to a plug on the side of the reactor. “And I killed every single man who got in my way.”

He whirled on one foot, aimed at a target dummy at the end of the forge. A shimmering light built in his palm, like he’d captured a star and was offering it to the gods. A bolt of light, faster than thought, burst from his hand, and the target dummy whumped backward, caught fire and smoldered fitfully. “Repulsor cannon,” Tony said. “A weapon unlike anything my father created. I… I could level a city with this, if I wanted. Too much power. But I can’t unmake it. So, I keep it here, keep it safe. Keep it away from everyone. There are avians who would want me to use it; they still come, sometimes, try to persuade me to their wars and their raids.” Tony swallowed hard. “Like the one where they brought you to me. I’m sorry. I should have gone. I should have helped you.”

“You’re helping me now,” Winter said, because that was the truth.

“I’m a coward,” Tony said. “I’m hiding from everyone, from everything, because I don’t like what I’ve become.”

“I like what you are,” Winter said, because it was all that he could offer.

“Yeah, thanks, sweetheart,” Tony said. He stripped the glove off, put it back on its table and covered it. He gave Winter a sweet smile, went back to what he’d been doing, and they didn’t speak of it again. But Winter noticed that, if they weren’t expecting guests, Tony was not as quick to pull his shirt on in the morning, and sometimes Winter found himself watching.

Sometimes, in the late evenings, Winter would sing to Tony.

It was nice to sing, Winter found. He’d never considered himself a particularly talented singer. Sometimes those slaves with lovely voices had been taken off, to sing for the foreman, and those few lucky ones were better fed, worked less hard, than the rest. Winter had never been taken, so he didn’t think his voice was all that special.

But Tony insisted that he liked it. It was soothing, was what Tony claimed, and if it was something that Winter could do to help, to earn a place, he would sing until not a note came from his throat, would sing until he lost his voice entirely.

Not that Tony would allow it; he seemed unexpectedly concerned for Winter’s health, comfort, and well-being.

Still, singing. And bringing Tony food. Those were things his aves friends could do for him. Winter needed to be able to do something more. Better. Earn his keep.

His fingers twitched in the direction of the wing; under the sheet where Tony kept it when they weren’t directly working on it.

They hadn’t quite made a practice flight yet; everything was pushing up from the ground. Hard-flight. And Winter could push himself up a few feet, before fluttering back down safely.

Child’s play.

Most adult avians took off from the treetops, gaining momentum, using air currents to their advantage.

If Winter could fly, he could scavenge further, bring back more, faster. Tony was gone, to town, trading for supplies. Something Winter could do, if he could fly.

He’d unwrapped the wing before he could talk himself out of it.

Tony had helped him with the buckles and straps, but Winter knew how it was done.

“Sir, I advise against this in the highest possible manner,” Jarvis, the little aves, fluttered around Winter’s head, bobbing up and down like anxiety given form.

“I can do it,” Winter protested, flapping his hand at the little bird.

“There are near uncountable accidents waiting to happen, if you attempt a solo flight without proper oversight!”

“Sometimes you gotta run before you can walk,” Winter said. He couldn’t help the smile; it’d been too long since he felt this light, this weightlessness. Even a month ago, he would have cringed back, hidden away from anything, even an aves the size of his fist, who’d spoken to him in such a commanding tone.

“That does not make sense, sir,” Jarvis continued tweeting, dodging Winter’s flapping hand with ease, “nor does it apply in these particular circumstances. I do with you would reconsider--”

Winter finished buckling the wing up. It was heavier than a normal wing, given the construction materials, but Tony had weighted the harness to keep Winter stable in flight, centering the excess weight for balance. There were a few drag-weights for his tailfeathers as well; heavier wings needed heavier rectrices for steerage.

Winter climbed out onto the second landing flet. He stared up at the sky and let his body take over. He spread his wings; both of them responded beautifully to the movement of shoulder and back. Just standing there, wings raised, felt more like freedom than anything else ever had.

All I need is the air. Bring me that horizon.

Winter jumped.

** note: Snakes do not actually hypnotize their prey; they can’t blink and the head-motion they use is a way for the snake to accurately gauge distances. The weaving motion a basket cobra does is because the flute player is wobbling the flute and the snake (frequently defanged) is feeling threatened. That being said, this is a story, and the snake-as-hypnotist fits in with Hydra’s brainwashing motif. 

[crimsxnflxwerz]

Like The Dawn [ch.3]

Rating: Teen+ Summary: Sometimes it takes opening your eyes to find what you’re looking for.[ or Persephone gets reborn as a baby boy named Ryan, and Hades takes the human form Shane in a desperate attempt to find his love once again. ] Pairing: Ryan/Shane Tags: greek mythology, Hades and Persephone, reincarnation, oblivious Hades is oblivious, memory loss Author Note: This is both my own take on the classic Greek myth of Hades and Persephone and how reincarnation in Gods work and such. Original ideas stemming heavily from mythological texts.

ps. anticlimactic. dont kill me :)

It wasn’t the fist time he’d been in a mortal forest. Most forests were in the overworld, the forests in the underworld all dead, nothing but stark black stalks standing like metal rails, preventing passage between the segments of the realm. In the underworld, beasts lived in these places, so they weren’t readily traversed by any soul who wished to stay uncorrupted. Cerberus was born in the dark forests, his three-headed pup who was infamous as a ferocious beast that guards his palace and the river Styx.

Although, many of the beasts weren’t like their legends proclaim. Cerberus was a lovable and loyal friend. He wouldn’t consider the beast his pet, that would imply ownership. Not even Gods really owned anything besides their realm, and even then, it wasn’t the kind of ownership that meant they could dictate or change anything about it. All they did was observe and protect. He protected Cerberus from the other gods, sometimes protected him from the other beasts as well. In return, Cerberus made sure no soul left his domain, and no tricksters entered.

When Persephone had been in the underworld, he expected the animal to hate her, as he often held a distaste for the overworld that shunned him. However, the mighty beast, upon sniffing her, immediately rolled over and exposed his soft stomach for petting. He adored Persephone for the entirety of her stay. Persephone also held a love for the animal, often going to him if she wanted to be alone, or just wanted to cheer herself up. He often wondered what she would have thought of Cerberus when he was only a newborn. A mass of wriggling shadows, unsure of what form to take, desperate for guidance. Shane was the one to dictate his form and ultimately guide him through his first decade of life. Cerberus was a fickle creature, the species a rare one that changed shape until it found a suitable form that it could hold. It was entirely possible that Cerberus could change his shape once again anytime it pleased, but the transformations are painful and ultimately not worth it. Shane wasn’t sure where the creature came from, but has taken care of it ever since it appeared to him.

The overworld’s forests weren’t like that. In fact, there weren’t a single beast like Cerberus in the overworld, even the rare, fantastic ones.

The trees here were thick and fat, their bark peeling in patterns, things living on them- within them. Every part of the forest was alive. Even the bones of the trees, with all their leaves and cover shed, appeared livelier than those ashen, black stalks.

Shane wasn’t sure where he was walking, if he was being honest. Leaves and things crunched underfoot as he walked, off the trail, stepping over fallen trunks and underbrush. There were some dense patches of trees and random piles of rocks and boulders. He was following his gut at this point, and his gut was telling him to go further, that she was just around the corner.

Coming around a cluster of trees, he noticed that down a hill a little way was the remains of a stone house. He felt drawn to it, so he went down to check it out. The house was mostly intact. The roof looked like it had caved in at some time, random boards and wooden beams sticking up out of the mess of slate tiles. The walls looked to be a collection of river stones and boulders cemented together. It gave the house a feeling like it had just popped up out of the ground one day. Its windows were wooden port holes, all the glass either shattered or gone completely, leaving only the rotted cross of damp wood. Out of curiosity, Shane peaked into one of the port holes. It was too dark inside to see anything, aside from thin trails of sunlight catching the edges of the room. When he stepped away from the window, he snapped a twig under his shoe. The noise was quite loud and abrupt. He heard the frantic fluttering of bird wings, scared away by his mere presence.

He went to go around the corner, when he suddenly heard footsteps running in his direction. His curiosity got the better of him and he stood very still in order to see who it was. From around the edge of the house rounded a boy. But that was all he could make out before the other body had toppled into him, bringing them both hard to the ground.

Shane found himself looking up at the sky through the trees, his back aching slightly, and a heavy weight settled on his chest. He felt a head resting under his collar, an ear pressed over his heart, soft breathing moving slowly against him. Their legs were tangled together, and the boy’s hands were braced between Shane’s chest and his own.

It lasted for about three seconds, before the boy was urgently tugging himself away. After the boy had detangled himself from Shane, he felt suspiciously cold. The weight hadn’t been bad, the close proximity of another body rather pleasant.

He quickly snapped himself out of it, standing up as well.

“You okay?” he asked the spooked boy. Well, now that he looked closer, he could tell the other person was an adult. It was hard to differentiate at first, with the person’s clean shave and soft face and short stature. The man looked back at him like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and frightened. Shane noticed that his eyes were a warm, dark brown. Lots of his brethren always fell in love with green-eyed does and blue-eyed birds- but he felt himself attracted to the subtle heat of brown. It was earthy, dark, but vibrant. Green was the grass, but brown was the dirt that held all the ingredients to keep it alive.

“I—I, yeah,” he stuttered. His voice was pretty nice as well, a little shaky, but nice. “Uh—sorry about that. I heard something. I realize now that the something was probably you.”

Shane grinned, although he tried to keep his creepiness to a minimum. He didn’t want to scare away this young faun. “Sorry to startle you, I was just looking around.”

“O—oh, well, so you like abandoned buildings?” he said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Shane gave a scoff of a laugh.

“Well, I like the woods, and this just happen to be in the woods.” He said. The man seemed to absorb this information for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “My name is Shane, by the way.”

He extended his hand for a handshake. The man eyed it skeptically, but then grasped his hand firmly. “I’m Ryan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ryan.”

When Ryan had run headfirst into the man in the woods, it was as if his entire world had slowed to a stop. The birds stopped chirping, the leaves stopped rustling, the wind died down, and all the insects were silent. The only thing he could hear was the slow beating heart of the body pressed against his.

It was like coming home. The smell, the feel, a deep, warm musk that surrounded him pleasantly, invading his senses and forcing a rush of mixed emotions through his body. When he had lost that contact, it was almost painful. One moment, feeling every inch of his skin tingle in anticipation, the next second all the noise in the world came back to him at once, overwhelming him.

But stepping back, he got a good look at the man. He was tall, with shaggy brown hair and a soft, subtle stubble. He looked well-kept, but something underneath his skin was wild in a way that he couldn’t exactly explain.

Shane, what a normal name. Not that normal names were bad, but he had been somehow expecting something more exciting. Shane sounded like it came right off of babynames.com or something, although he had to admit the man did look like a Shane.

Ryan stared down at the man’s hand, wondering if he really wanted to touch him again. After that run in, he was not only embarrassed, but also confused. Why had he felt like that? Usually, when he messed up in public, his entire body went cold, and then he frantically looked for the nearest exit. But when he and Shane had tumbled down into the leaves and dirt, Ryan had felt perfectly content to lay there, soaking up his body heat until the day came to a rest and the owls sang their lullabies.

Cautiously, he reached out and grabbed Shane’s hand. Immediately, like a wave hitting him in the chest, he was assaulted by contradicting feelings. Feelings of shame and guilt, like a hot iron rod pocking him in the side. Anger and frustration, a cooler, frosty isolation sending shivers up his spine. A tight, sharp lust in the pit of his stomach, latching like a seed. All these things, wrapped in a thin netting of comfort and familiarity that held it all together.

This man he’d never met before had dragged these feelings, kicking and screaming, from some deep and ancient part of his soul. When their eyes met, he could see himself reflected back at him.

So, he hadn’t felt any of that.

The emotional recoil almost made him shake. He felt the urge to vomit as his stomach rolled uncomfortably. It reminded him of a character unveiling memories from their past life, although no memories came to him, only the strong, potent emotions that had been attached to them. He tasted bile in the back of his throat. He wished Shane had felt those things. Now, he just felt crazy.

Shoving down all the tingly things for later, he pulled away from the handshake and smiled. Well, it was more like a grimace. Shane didn’t seem to notice, though.

“Where you headed somewhere?” Ryan asked nervously. Shane looked off past him into the woods, looking kind of distant, before glancing down at himself and seeing that he was covered in dirt and debris. He brushed his clothes off.

“No, just walking,” he said stiffly. It was pretty obvious that he was lying, but it wasn’t Ryan’s place to press him for info. “What about you?”

“Oh, I was just recording some stuff for a new video,” he said, accidentally relaying too much excitement into his words. He grimaced again, he should know better than to wear his heart on his sleeve, but Shane simply laughed. It sounded nice—familiar almost.

“A video? What do you like to make videos of?” the tension in Ryan seemed to melt away at the curiosity coming from the taller man. Ryan wasn’t the most social person, and he was often made fun of for making videos in the woods like a weirdo. There was something about this man. Maybe it was the feelings he seemed to unhinge, maybe it was the gentle way he spoke and held himself. Whatever it was, Ryan felt more relaxed around him than he would any other complete stranger.

“Want to walk with me? I’ll tell you about it,” he offered. Shane nodded and followed Ryan along a path. They talked, pausing periodically to take pictures of wildlife and film the nature moving and living around them. Ryan was kind of disappointed when they were nearing the end of their walk and he hadn’t been approached by a single animal this time around. It always made for a more interesting video. Although, he couldn’t say he was surprised. He wasn’t alone this time.

After a few more minutes, they found themselves back near the bus stop that went back to Ryan’s apartment. He put his camera back into it’s bag, safely clicking the locks shut. He turned to Shane.

“Well, this is my stop.” He said, his voice betraying him a bit, sounding a bit strained. Shane gave him a look. “I’ve got to go home and change for work. This was really nice, though, thanks for walking with me.”

“No problem. You’re a pretty cool guy.” Shane said with a soft smile that easily reached his eyes. He paused, looking over Ryan in a brushing sweep. “Well, I’ll see you around, yeah?”

Ryan blinked a few times, letting what he had said really sink in. He’d see him around? He swallowed, his hand itching to break out his phone and get the man’s number. He was still curious, but what if it looked like he was coming on too strong? What if Shane thought Ryan was trying to hit him up or something? He looked towards the bus stop and saw the bus coming down the street. When he looked back, Shane had both of his hands in his pockets, looking a bit awkward.

“Y—yeah,” he said. “You live around here?”

The bus stopped at the red light before the bus stop. Shane shrugged one shoulder. “I do.”

“Well, that’s my bus,” Ryan said, and he smiled at Shane. “Have a good one.”

Shane nodded in response. Ryan turned and went to stand at the bus stop, and when he looked back, Shane was already gone. He felt a hollowness in the pit of his stomach as the weird feelings returned. From deep inside him, the feelings came forth, like vines wrapping around his insides, digging their thorns into his heart. Who was that man? Why had he been in the woods when Ryan was there? Why did he feel so familiar? He was sure he’d never seen him before in his life.

Ryan boarded the bus, payed his fee, and sat down. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but even the man’s name seemed wrong. Like there was another name hidden beneath the surface. Like the person he saw was only a shell, a skin that hid what laid dormant and asleep inside of him.

During the ride down, Ryan daydreamed. He daydreamed of long, black hair and skin as pale as bone. Of deep, dark forests with huge, black trees like iron gates. Of animals that eclipsed buildings, of wailing souls, of rooms holding more gold and precious stones that anyone could imagine. He daydreamed of cold, bright eyes watching him, of soft, chapped lips tracing the line of his jaw, of the pads of fingertips trailing down his spine. He daydreamed of these things as the feelings grew stronger, like flowers blooming in his head, making it hard to think about the present, making it hard to think at all.

The bus jolted to a stop at his block. He got off in a daze and wandered up to his apartment to change. In his wardrobe there was a blouse that his mother had bought him years ago. It was black with sheer, silver trim. He had loved it from a distance when he first laid eyes on it, but now it was collecting dust in his closet. He wasn’t fit to wear it, though he kept it anyways. He reached out delicately and rubbed the material between his fingers. It was made to be a loose-fitting shirt, meant to be paired with a pencil skirt or tight pants. He imagined what he’d look like in it now—right back to the feminine body he’d inhabited for a decade before he came to realize he didn’t have to be this way. He didn’t have to be miserable, not if he didn’t want to be.

The daydreaming and swamp of feelings had put him in a poor headspace. He changed and sat down at his kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. Rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes and up against his temples, he sighed. When he fell into these moods, it wasn’t as simple as stepping outside or watching cute cat videos on the internet or some shit. He got this way when he was feeling a little distant. Dysphoric, his therapist had told him, when he used to go to one. Like he was drifting outside of his body, like his body didn’t belong to him, like nothing belonged to him. Like the world around him didn’t want him there; taking up space, breathing oxygen.

He took two bites of his cereal, then dumped it in the sink to clean up later. He brewed himself a cup of coffee into a to-go mug, grabbed his work things, and headed out.

Maybe work would pull him out of this mess.

After he’d left Ryan behind, he felt himself become lost again. He’d wondered into those woods to find Persephone. Something in his body had told him to go in there, that maybe she was there, that maybe he would find her. His instincts were wrong, apparently, because she wasn’t there.

He would feel disappointed, but he found himself smiling despite it, because he had met that man named Ryan.

Of course, the probability of meeting again was slim, but if they did, he would be happy to talk to him again. Maybe he should have reached out—got his number, asked him to coffee, something—but he had no business making friends in the overworld. The only reason Sara stuck around was because he didn’t have the heart to leave her behind. There was something comforting about her; love, but not romantic. A familial feeling that he never actually got from his family. Like she was his sister, but better, because his actual sisters were all pretty terrible.

If Sara was a goddess, she would be Hestia. Small, warm, and loyal. Fierce in her resolve, but soft with her words. She was one of his only sisters that he actually felt he could hold any familial love with. Though, it wasn’t like the two of them had a bond. She kept to her spaces, and he kept to his. He was sure if Sara was a goddess, she would also keep away from him. If she knew who he truly was, she would sneer at his presence, turn her head away at his attempts at friendship.

In this body, this disguise, he was allowed to make contact with others in a way that he’d never been able to do before. As Hades, at worst people hated him, at best they feared him. Now, as Shane, he was just another lanky, funny guy with a slanted smile and lazy disposition.

It made it easier to look at people, see them for who they really are.

Sara: find what you’re looking for, amigo?

Shane pulled his phone out of his pocket and stared at the text notification that popped up on his screen. Oh yeah, Sara. He just left her at that café. He felt sort of bad about that, but he wasn’t sure if the feeling was going to fade before he had the chance to search.

Shane: no, how did you know I was looking for something?

He crossed the street a few blocks down, he didn’t really want to walk on the forest side right now. He checked his watch. 3:45 pm. He wondered if she still wanted to hang out, or if she was mad about earlier.

Shane: still wanna watch a movie later? Your place? I’ll bring drinks.

Each day Shane spent up here in the overworld, he fell in love with it a little more. It was different than what he was used to, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe if he stayed here, learned about this world, lived with these people, he would have a better grasp on why Persephone did what she did. Was she free here, in the overworld? That was so long ago, and she was still watched pretty heavily by her mother. Maybe she wanted him to take her away, only to realize that she had just landed herself in the same cage she had been in before. Same cage, different look. As much as he hated Demeter, she had kept Persephone safe from the other gods who would have liked to take advantage of her beauty. She had tried to protect her from everything, but she hadn’t expected him.

That was the point, though. He wasn’t much for thievery, tricks, and traitors like his brothers. He wasn’t much for leaving his domain, pretending to own everything his presence touched. Things he touched tended to die anyways. He was better known to watch from afar, taking all the whispers and loneliness with a grain of salt. They never expected him to come forth, to take something so selfishly. He dealt in death, in the traverse of souls, he didn’t dare break the surface, did he?

It wasn’t like he couldn’t come up. No, that wasn’t why he stayed underneath. They didn’t even need him down there, all he did was bargain with demigods and watch his siblings make a mess of the world from the sanctuary of his palace. The judges sorted the souls, the beasts kept visitors from leaving. He was the face, the front; taking the weight of the external judgment, shouldering the burden alone, but he was only that. A mascot, an emblem, a symbol.

In the overworld, he was just Shane. A person with a body, with a soul. A person doing something. He could see the appeal now.

He bet wherever Persephone was, whoever she was, she felt free. She may not have immortality, she may not know where she came from, who she had been, who had loved her, but she had what mattered most. That was choice.

He felt his heart clench a little at that. It wasn’t the first time he figured that she was happier without him. It sometimes forced him back, took chunks out of his search. When he started feeling like this, he usually retreated back to the underworld, sought the familiar cold of his throne, the vast emptiness of his chambers he’d come to appreciate.

Sara: sorry, I need to get some stuff done for work. maybe some other time?

Shane laughed humorlessly. He rounded the corner onto his street. He saw his apartment a few blocks away. He flicked through some dating apps on his phone. Maybe he could look for her again tonight. The feeling that she was here—somewhere in this state—it hadn’t gone away. It was a burning sensation just under his skin. He looked through a few profiles, but none caught his eye.

Maybe he should’ve given Ryan his phone number. He could’ve bothered Ryan at his job with random texts. He could do that with Sara, but he had a feeling that she was annoyed at him from earlier.

Mortal emotions were so complicated.

Once in his apartment, he threw himself on his bed. He looked over to his wall-length mirror, a gate that lead right to his palace chambers when he touched it. He resisted the urge to go back. No, he was going to stay here. Once fruitless day wasn’t going to turn him away. He was going to find her, he knew it. Where ever she was—whoever she was—he would find her again.

He would keep searching forever if he had to.

Forever.

[bark-at-the-moon-moon]

The first part of the series I am writing for my Fanwalkers. With Que’s background already published, Orin’s will follow shortly after some editing. 

To read Que’s story:

 https://bark-at-the-moon-moon.tumblr.com/post/167719490963/que-artificer-archer-alone-this-is-the-first

Again, much thanks to @isharton for the awesome art!

Enjoy the story below =D

Ties That Bind - Part 1: A Journey Begins

It had been only a week since the two planeswalkers met, and now they were here land that was foreign to both of them. Though exploring new places was generally the nature of planeswalking, this wasn’t a pleasure walk.

“I never imagined places like this existed,” Orin looked out into the distance, his excitement hidden behind his fur, “I’ve only ever known that forsaken desert.”

“It reminds me of where I grew up,” Que raised a hand to block the sun from his eyes, “I hate it.”

Orin turned on his heel and looked at Que, his one ear twitching.

“Isn’t your home just a bunch of metal and Etheria?”

“Etherium,” Que clicked and walked past at Orin, “It’s called Etherium. And I said where I grew up, not where I live and you happened to planeswalk to.”

“Wait, so you didn’t grow up in that depressing metal crap shoot?”

“No. I was raised in a place called Bant,” one of Que’s back hands flicked for Orin to follow, “And it’s not a crap shoot. Esper is a wonderful place.”

Orin breathed in the fresh mountain air, and let it out in a frustrated huff. His paws slipped and skid in places, but he was slowly catching on how to walk in this new land. The emerald scales on his arm shone in the bright sun. Que continued to press forward, pushing aside branches and foliage. Orin sometimes envied that metal body of his. Not needing to rest or worry about overexertion. Those thoughts were quickly swept away when the idea of what he would lose to get that came up.

“My intel says that around here should be a powerful artifact,” Que stopped and turned his head completely around to face Orin, “But it wasn’t specific as to where around here. I had us planeswalk as close as I could.”

“That’s, um, reassuring,” Orin winced at the sight of Que turning his head in such a fashion. He had only seen zombies be capable of such...feats. Without warning Que turned his head back, making a complete circular rotation of his neck, making a chill slide from Orin’s neck down to his tail. Another supposed bonus of replacing his body with metal meant no bones to break, thought Orin.

“The item is also supposed to be a few feet long and slender.”

“So, like a staff or sword?”

“Or a crystal. Or Rod. Or a multitude of things.”

“Wait,” Orin paused before picking back up pace, “How did you get information on this place without looking here yourself?”

“Oh,” Que said in what could be considered a mixture between and chuckle and a chirp, “I have my means. But let's not waste time on idle chit chat. I’ll search this side, you search that side.”

Dark amber crept over the sky. Orin stared into it’s mesmerizing hues, remembering his home. His family.

“I guess some things are a constant on any plane.” Orin mused, smiling.

“I visited a plane once with five suns,” Que cut in from a few feet away, “There was never a sunrise or sunset. Perpetual noon, if you would.”

Orin’s smile flipped, another moment among many.

“Where you always like this, or did it come with the metallic body?”

“Always like what?” Que pushed some large leaves aside and peeked his head over a bush, staring down at Orin.

“Mechanical, distant, ‘robotic’,” Orin put emphasis on the last word. Que had shown him the thopters and mechanical devices of Esper,  taught him of the unfeeling machines that do tasks with utmost efficiency.

“I…” Que seemed to look out into the distance, searching, before pulling back the foliage and letting it cover him from vision. Orin could hear his footsteps walking forward and away. His ears folded back and he lowered his head. His paws moved on their own as he returned to searching.

The two sat in a small cave, a soft glow making their shadows dance along the walls. Orin sipped from his cup of water, looking out to the night sky. Que sat silently next to him, staring into the fire. Crackling wood and the whirls from the breezes filled the night, but no animals responded. They had not spoken since earlier that day, nor had they found the artifact. Orin glanced over at Que, his ears dropping back slowly.

“I’m sorry,” The ainok’s voice cracked, “for earlier. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

There was a long pause, then Que turned to look at Orin. That expressionless face stared at the furred planeswalker, making seconds feel like minutes.

“Do not fret over it,” Que turned up into the night sky, “Sometimes, I don’t think about how others will react before I speak. For someone like me, who has seen much and experienced more than you have yet to experience, mentioning Mirrodin may have been intriguing. That being said, it was insensitive of me to comment in such a way at a moment of remembrance for you. I had forgotten your circumstances. I, owe you the apology.”

Orin turned his gaze away from Que and up to take in the night sky once more. The two looked up as the sparkling dots looked down on them. Neither knew when it happened, but they both dozed off at their own pace, the fire dwindling as the night grew longer.

The sunlight entered the cave just right and danced over Orin’s face. The ainok rolled over and peeked open one eye. He saw the smoldering remains of the fire, dusty walls, and no Que. He propped himself up quickly and looked around. He was alone in the cave.

“Que,” He choked, his voice turning from hoarse due to the dust and smoke to a full on yell, “Que?”

At the opening of the cave, Orin could see dust falling from the top just outside the entrance. He slowly reached a hand out to his sword ,his hand tapped at the ground while his eyes stayed locked on the entrance. Frantically he fumbled until he had no choice but to look. His sword was gone. He shot back to the entrance where now he could see more dust and hear a noise, like scratching. It grew louder and louder as more dust fell. Orin jumped to his feet, readying himself to fight of whatever animal was coming. He had seen several strange creatures on Alara, and knew each plane offered its own dangers. The scratching was close now. Whatever it was had to be just outside the opening. Orin breathed in, then out, and readied himself.

The sun’s light obscured the details of two arms reaching in and latching onto the roof at the entrance of the cave. A moment later the creatures entire body flipped down and into the cave. Orin took a step forward and pulled back a clenched fist, winding up to punch. Before he could even fully register what happened, the cave glowed a bright, blinding teal. Orin froze to see Que just below him, mana bow at the ready, a blue arrow pointed up at to the ainok’s chin. Que was sprawled on the floor like a spider from rolling into the cave from above. Orin could see his sheathed sword in Orin’s free hand.

“I’d rather you not get violent first thing in the morning after screaming my name.” Que mumbled, obviously annoyed.

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t wander off when we are in a new location,” Orin made sure to add emphasis, “And if you wouldn’t take my sword.”

“My apologies,” the mana bow dissipated and Que stood to his full height, offering up the sword, “I went out to try and hunt something for you to eat.”

“ Hunt? With a sword?” Orin snatched the sword and began to secure it back to his side, “you have a bow and arrow that use mana. That you can control.”

“I left much earlier to try with that,” Que expressed what Orin could only say looked like displeasure, “There were unforeseen circumstances. I cannot use my bow unless it is the only option to me. That’s the reason we must get going. Now.”

“What are you talking about? That bow is like, your thing. You can’t really even use a sword. Remember, we tried that training thing before.” Orin scratched behind his ear, barely paying attention.

“No,” Que turned to look out of the cave towards the wilds “You don’t understand. We may be abandoning this quest.”

Orin huffed and pushed his way past Que. His pads felt good on the earth that the sun had heated up. His balance almost faltered as the avian’s hand pulled on his shoulder.

“Look, it’s too early for this nonsense, okay?” Orin yanked his shoulder out of Que’s grasp and walked forward.

“Orin,” Que clicked, “I found out why we haven't seen any wildlife.”

“Oh,” Orin turned on his heel and crossed his arms, “Do tell.”

A large shadow covered the opening of the cave moments before the thud of it landing. The Ainok turned to face the chest of a large beast. His eyes traced up it the creature’s body. Large green and grey malleable plates covered its form, giving way to greyish sinew. It was humanoid, but far from human. Long arms ended in clawed hands. It’s face appeared human, but was covered in the plates making up the lines of the face. Long, thin strands of tentacles hung from its head, some even over its shoulders. The creature looked down at them, and tilted its head to the side like a confused dog.

“Slivers,” Que shuttered.