#Bush Fire Protection Shutters

[safeguardshuttersptyltd]

Sydney Bush Fire Protection Shutters

For reliable bush fire protection shutters in Sydney, Safe Guard Shutters Pty Ltd is the top choice. Renowned for their professionalism, expertise, and commitment to safety, Safe Guard Shutters Pty Ltd specializes in delivering high-quality fire protection solutions that safeguard homes and businesses from the devastating effects of bush fires. Choosing Safe Guard Shutters Pty Ltd for your bush…

[screwsfall0ut]

Tim Drake Befriends a Bee Minific

When Tim was young and very lonely, he befriended a bumblebee. 

Back then, he was curious in a way that teased wonder on every rusted fire escape. At 9 years old, even Gotham’s grimiest streets sparkled under the right light and perfect Summer days were for adventure, not dread. 

It had been one of those perfect days - balmy, sunny, fresh, and crisp - when Tim almost stepped on a bee. He paused, one leg raised, light up sneakers still flashing, and hopped to the side. 

He carefully picked it up. The poor thing didn't have wings. It was so delicate. Its tiny legs tickled Tim's palms.

Tim was stricken with fear that it would die on the hot pavement, alone and scared. It needed to be protected. It needed a chance.

An eyedropper of sugar water and 30 minutes later, the bee was moving - crawling all over the table and, eventually, over Tim's hands. He brought the bee out into the garden, letting it examine the roses, the lavender, the yarrow.

Tim couldn’t leave it out there, defenseless, with no one to watch over it, to make sure it wasn't eaten or crushed or lonely. 

He named the bee Sisko, after his favorite Star Trek character, and because it was an onomatopoeia of the strange buzzing sound Sisko would make while traveling up and down Tim’s arms.

Day after day, Sisko and Tim would make new sugar water, then go explore every flower and bush and stone on the Drake property. Sisko’s favorites were the yellow roses, which had bloomed brighter and taller than anything else that season. Sisko would always crawl back to Tim’s hands in the end, or his arms, sometimes even up Tim's neck and into his bushy hair to keep Tim company while heating up chicken nuggets or peeling open protein bars or chowing down cold pizza. 

At night, Sisko slept in the ratty, soft stomach of Tim’s favorite stuffed animal, a bunny his Mom had given him when he was too young to remember. Tim moved the stuffy from his bed to his dresser (he was nervous about rolling onto Sisko in his sleep) and every night checked that Sisko was safe and sound before turning out the lights. 

They were friends - best friends. 

With Sisko, Tim lost the urge to wander off in Gotham proper for batwatching. Instead, he’d re-learned every step of Drake property, fell in love again with the flowers and trails, the old, old trees, and the pond out near the property line. 

Tim knew Sisko was on borrowed time (of course he did) but against all logic, Tim was certain that Sisko wasn’t any normal bumblebee. How could he be? Not when he’d chosen Tim, not when they'd made a home together. Anyway, why should it be so ridiculous to think that Sisko might be a witch's familiar or a companion like Jiminy Cricket. Magic was real, and there were stranger things on Gotham's streets every day.

Tim started to believe, actually believe, that one day he and Sisko might slip into Narnia or Wonderland or Middle Earth. Every day was an adventure.

Eventually the cold began to creep back, hardening the ground, taking the flowers, and turning the leaves. It was a chilly Sunday afternoon when Sisko crawled into Tim’s palm, fell asleep, and never woke up again. No matter how much Tim begged and begged and begged.  

He'd died so quietly. So unceremoniously. Tim wasn't ready. It wasn't fair.

Sisko was just a bee, and Tim was just a boy, and there were no magic wardrobes waiting for them.

Tim buried Sisko under the yellow rose bush, long gone spindly and brown. He cried so much that he'd thrown up in the dirt. 

Later that week, Scarecrow broke out of Arkham. For the first time since June, Tim pulled out his black clothes and his camera bag to watch Batman and Robin save the day. 

The click click of his camera shutter, the smoggy sky, the sweet rot smell of the dumpsters: that was familiar. Tim was a shadow again. He could lose himself: in the dark, in the night. 

Tim tucked his bunny stuffy into the back of his closet. He stopped waiting for magic to find him, at least, not the kind you'd read about in storybooks. Magic may have been real, but it was for people like Robin, people who swung from rooftops and laughed loud and made the world brighter. It was never meant for someone like Tim.

[tragedybunny]

Bedroom Hymns - Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW - Breeding / Sex Pollen

This is technically the second part of my wedding fic Dance With Me Under the Diamonds, See Me Like Breath in the Cold. I separated it out as it is just porn with a small tie-in to the plot. There will be another part that continues the story that doesn't require reading this. Reader is based on an Archfey Warlock. Tried some new things here and I'm not sure if they worked but oh well.

Reader and Astarion are happily married and celebrate their wedding night. But there may be more occurring than they realize.

Your hand fumbles for the handle of the door behind you, a difficult task with Astarion kissing and nipping your exposed skin. The door finally relents and swings open, to your endless relief. Maybe it was all the wine, but you feel as though there’s a fire stoking inside you, your skin radiating heat, to go along with the growing aching need between your legs for your now husband. You answer the door’s creak with a whimper. “Aren’t you in quite the state, my Love?” Astarion teases you, whispering against your ear. 

There’s a blank in your mind where a witty retort should be, answering instead with another hungry kiss, and gasping when your legs are swept out from under you. Astarion carries you over the threshold of your home, turning to kick the door shut. It slams loud enough for you to be grateful Scratch is with Shadowheart tonight. That’s the last thought you have to spare for anything that’s not him though. 

There’s no questions asked as Astarion starts for the stairs of your house, just your breathing, heavy with anticipation. The world around you has a haze to it, like it’s shimmering with summer heat. The need has turned to a feeling of emptiness that is almost painful. Arms looped around his neck to hold yourself steady, you whine in frustration you haven’t reached your bedroom yet. “Gods I need you.” 

His grip on you tightens and he growls in your ear, something wild in his voice you’ve never heard before, but it makes you want to spread your legs and beg for him. “Soon my Sweet.” 

Just beyond the last stair is the cozy bedroom the two of you share when you’re not adventuring beyond the walls of Baldur’s Gate. Safe and secure, the shutters block any sunlight when locked down, protecting your beloved while he sleeps next to you. It seems you’ll be needing it before either of you get any sleep tonight. Astarion sets your feet on the ground just before the bed and you open your mouth to protest, but he hushes you by grabbing your waist firmly. “Patience, Love, let's get this dress off.” Skilled fingers set to work unlacing you out of the dress that seems more like a prison, you lean into that touch, craving him. A cool finger bushes along your skin and the inferno inside you rises, hips rock back, the curve of your ass pushing against him, feeling how he’s already half hard. An arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. “Behave or I’ll cut it off you, your choice Darling,” his voice is low as he speaks the words against your ear and you shiver. Somewhere in the back of your mind you recall it was an expensive dress and you were fond of it. You focus on holding yourself still. “Good girl,” he coos at you and you can feel your small clothes becoming damp with your arousal. 

By some miracle of some god somewhere, he manages to free you before you turn into a writhing mess. Frantically, the two of you work to rid you of your undergarments before turning to Astarion’s clothes, the sound of tearing fabric letting you know they don't survive his attentions. “Help me,” you all but beg, leaving searing kisses along his skin as you undo buttons and trouser laces. He obliges, aiding in removing the offending garments until he’s bare before you. The fire and wanting fade just enough for you to drink him in for a moment, and you feel a giddy smile come on that you can’t repress. So perfect, he’s yours and yours alone. “You’re so beautiful, my Love,” you breathe out, almost reverently, and pull him in for another kiss. 

Again he lifts you in his arms, finally settling you onto the bed and kneeling between your open thighs. One finger drags languidly along your slit. “Look at you all soaked and swollen already, needy little thing.” 

“P-please Astarion,” you thrust unthinkingly toward his hand, your own reaching out to stroke him, thumb swiping through the liquid beaded at his tip. A throaty moan is your reward. 

“Oh my Love, just you wait.” He sits back, content to let you touch him. Aching and still desperate for relief, you continue, wanting nothing more than to please him. Soft groans escape him as he rocks his hips into touch before finally taking mercy on you. 

Pushing your hands away, he grips your hips and you obey his wordless command, turning so that you're kneeling before him, elbows propping you up. “My gorgeous wife.” Lips trace their way from the base of your spine up to your shoulders, hands cup your breasts, kneading them, thumbs brushing over peaked nipples. With a whimper, you grind yourself against him, the barest teasing touch of his cock driving you mad. “You want to be fucked so badly, don’t you. But you want more than that, you want to be filled, to be bred, like a good little wife.” He’s so close to you, words speaking of desires unknown until this moment, but it’s there in you, the yearning for what he promises. Desperately, you writhe against him and he pushes your hips away. “Say it.” One hand grips your chin, thumb worrying your bottom lip. 

“I want to be filled with you,” his thumb slips between your lips and you suck at it gratefully, “bred by you.” 

The press of him into you grants blissful relief to the emptiness, and you both still for a moment, bound as one. And then he moves, slow and deliberate, burying himself again and again. There are no words from you, just sounds of need, of pleading for more. “My Love, taking me so good.”  His hand dips between your legs, finding your clit and tracing small circles over it as the rhythm of hips increases. A few more moments of those heady sensations and, with a keening sound, you clench around him, desperate for him to fulfill the promise of earlier. 

He’s there right after you, one hand digging into your hip, pulling you tight against him, the other still playing with you. The feel of his seed pumping into you is almost enough to send you over the edge again. Gasping, ragged breaths are the only sound as you obediently remain how he positioned you, taking all of him, crying out when he pulls out of you. 

The empty ache returns, but not for long. “Hmm,” fingers press inside you, spreading you. 

“Love,” you plead, the need burning again at his touch. 

“I don’t think I’m done with you yet, my desperate, sweet little thing.” His touch slips back around to your clit and you hiss at how sensitive it's become. The discomfort fades soon enough and you're lost in the euphoria of it. 

His body covers yours, and teeth lightly nip into your shoulder and lap at the little drips of blood that escape. “Astarion.” You lose yourself again.

The world blurs around you, the only constants, his touch and your own ragged breath. There are no thoughts, only the drive to be taken again, like a wild creature in heat. Pliantly, you let him guide you to your back, where you stare up at him, enraptured. “Gods you’re incredible,” you whisper, “my husband.” 

Leaning over you, he kisses your forehead gently. “Incredibly lucky.” Fingers brush your hair back and trace your cheeks, your lips, along your chin. “You’re the most amazing person in the whole world. And somehow you’re mine.” He ponders you for a moment, staring at you like you’re some holy thing, as though he’s engaged in an act of worship. Then his lips catch yours and you feel the length of his cock slide along you. Despite what you want, it’s painful as it presses against the exhausted bundle of nerves between your legs, leaving you whining. “One more for me, you can do that, can’t you?” His voice, sultry against your ear, is all the encouragement you need, and you nod. “Good girl.” 

Legs wrap around his waist as enters you one more time. “I…ohhhh…hells,” divine torment, pain flowing into pleasure, desperation driving away exhaustion. 

“Shhh, Darling, you’re doing so good,” he moves inside you, guiding you back to your precipice. Lips and teeth are everywhere all over you, fingers back to playing with you, you mewl and cry his name over and over until nothing makes sense. Your eyes are closed, all you know is the feeling of him, waves of rapture crash into one another and become one, and you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. 

Finally, with a jerk he stills and you feel at last gloriously sated, filled as promised. Collapsing next to you, he pulls you onto his chest and nuzzles your hair. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” your eyes flutter close, your body finally succumbing to exhaustion, the strange need fading away. And then you remember, the woman at the park, the bottle, a gift from summer. Fuck, who knows what your patron gifted you with, you should really tell Astarion when you wake up. 

Tag list:

@micropoe10  @spacebarbarianweird @writingmysanity

 @mxxny-lupin  @azu21things @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin @bambamwolf87

@fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

[bluenachogoatee]

Roller Shutters InstWhy Obtain Electric Aluminium Roller Shutters From B&B Roller Shutters?

Roller shutter doors are the ideal service for any home or local business owner aiming to raise security for their home.

<img src="https://bnbrollershutters.com.au/wp-content/uploads/2022/10/roller-shutters-black.jpg" alt="roller shutters Hills District" />

Our Roller shutters can be made use of to secure home windows and also entrances, improve thermal insulation, secure against fire, weather and also even more. Obtain aluminium roller shutters for your home windows, or utilize them internally to separate inner rooms and also hide rooms without the demand for walls or doors. Our roller shutters are extremely flexible, and also allow you to obtain creative with your use of them. If you're seeking roller shutters Sydney, whether exterior home window shutters or aluminium roller shutters, surf our range today, and also see the difference high-grade roller shutters can produce your home.

Residential Shutters

The Residential shutter is suitable for all facilities without unique demands. The web links below deal 3 extremely different kinds, but as a whole they are about 30% much more costly than Residential home window Roller Shutters.

Practical Features

Safety and security: Australia's largest home insurance company the NRMA reports that 55% of residential home burglaries are with vulnerable home windows. This deal the initial line of protection in this scenario and also has the major advantage of being a aesthetic deterrent. The unique operation and also securing gadget likewise provide a physical obstacle against compelled breach.

Thermal Insulation: The slat is rolled to develop a hollow casing into which a PU foam is infused, developing an 8.7 mm (AR4OO collection) thick wall of insulation, comparable in vogue to a cool room. There is that added shielding high qualities of the air gap between the shutter and also the home window. These functions can provide as much as * 90% reduction in thermal transfer with the covered home window.

Noise Insulation: The shielding high qualities have the additional function of moistening the breach of undesirable noise by as much as 50%. By developing a obstacle before the home window, the noise circulation, which is moved by vibrations with the air is decreased.

Light Control: Depending on the sort of setup and also building construction, this product can offer up to 100% control of the results of damaging ultra violet and also infra-red rays. The shutter has the extra function of perforations along the slat hinge that can be adapted to diffuse the sunlight rays, while permitting light into the room.

Wind Defense: Deal a physical obstacle against driving rain, high winds and also flying particles. Especially effective against hailstorm, safeguarding the glass from breaking and also feasible personal injury.

Fire Defense: The warmth from a bush fire can conveniently ruin the glass in a home window and also allow the access of induction heat and also ashes to the home. In this case, the roller shutter will provide an effective obstacle against radiating warmth and also airborne ashes.

<iframe src="https://www.google.com/maps/embed?pb=!1m18!1m12!1m3!1d3370120.1425485257!2d147.9620537507224!3d-34.42337786947811!2m3!1f0!2f0!3f0!3m2!1i1024!2i768!4f13.1!3m3!1m2!1s0xab6d41e4f9ff0235%3A0x84eccdb4f58cc978!2sB%26B%20Rollershutters!5e0!3m2!1sen!2sau!4v1669261256751!5m2!1sen!2sau" width="600" height="450" style="border:0;" allowfullscreen="" loading="lazy" referrerpolicy="no-referrer-when-downgrade"></iframe>

Light Business shutters can span as much as 4200mm for large home windows in a solitary span. There are likewise lots of enhancements that suit commercial facilities, such as key-lock activation.

he difference between the Residential Roller Shutter and also the Business Roller Shutter.

The commercial roller shutter can span as much as 4200mm for large home windows in a solitary span. The shape of the commercial roller shutter slat account has actually been made particularly to suit the Business roller shutter market along with lots of Residential applications. The German developed roll creating device is the most innovative of its type in Australia today. The AR551 collection slat is a double walled dental caries, curved 55mm account with PU foam infused during the roll creating procedure it's. Small Thickness: 11.6 mm This procedure offers cost-effective stamina and also insulation high qualities. The curved shape of the slat offers marginal roll sizes and also optimum side stamina.

<iframe src="https://bb-rollershutters.business.site/" style="border:1px #cccccc solid;" name="myiFrame" scrolling="yes" frameborder="1" marginheight="0px" marginwidth="0px" height="400px" width="600px" allowfullscreen></iframe>

<br />

<a href='https://electricrollershuttersinstall678.blogspot.com/2022/11/electric-roller-shutters-installed.html'>https://electricrollershuttersinstall678.blogspot.com/2022/11/electric-roller-shutters-installed.html</a><br />

<a href='https://bnbrollershutters.com.au/'>roller shutters|aluminium roller shutters|Sydney roller shutters </a><br />

<a href='https://bnbrollershutters.com.au/roller-shutters/'>roller shutter installation|electric roller shutters </a><br />

<a href='https://bnbrollershutters.com.au/shop-shutters/'>commercial shutters|shop roller shutters|Sydney shop shutters </a><br />

<a href='https://bb-rollershutters.business.site/'>roller shutters Sydney </a><br />

<a href='https://fhaloans248.blogspot.com/2022/11/fha-loans.html'>https://fhaloans248.blogspot.com/2022/11/fha-loans.html</a><br />

<a href='https://titlemakewaterfromair768.blogspot.com/'>https://titlemakewaterfromair768.blogspot.com/</a><br />

<a href='https://titlemakewaterfromair768.blogspot.com/2022/11/title-make-water-from-air.html'>https://titlemakewaterfromair768.blogspot.com/2022/11/title-make-water-from-air.html</a><br />

<a href='https://www.tumblr.com/magic-blogs/702302743303454720/title-make-water-from-air/'>https://www.tumblr.com/magic-blogs/702302743303454720/title-make-water-from-air</a><br />

<a href='https://magic-blogs.tumblr.com/'>https://magic-blogs.tumblr.com/</a><br />

<br />

[cherrycocaineee]

7. Sasuke Uchiha - Protection

   Early morning dew clung to the sides of my black shoes, the blades of pine green grass brushing against my exposed toes tickled and the only relief I found in that moment was wiggling them. Trudging alongside me was Naruto, his arms were wrapped behind his head and he was frowning. I could tell he was tired and getting up early was never Naruto’s thing but the Prince that we were protecting was a complete morning person. Standing in front of us was Kakashi Sensei; Sakura and Sasuke were walking on the other side of the large carriage. Morning sunlight started peeking up above the trees creating a small amount of heat against my pale, cool skin. A loud yawn escaped from between Naruto’s lips as we started walking up a steep hill.  “How much further?” Naruto complained, eyes half shut.    “We just started walking, Naruto,” Sakura scolded from behind the Prince’s carriage. “I know!” Naruto yawned again, “but I’m tired.”  A small scoff sounded from Sasuke, and Naruto glared in his direction as if he could see through the carriage. I reached out and touched my blue eyed, knuckleheaded friend while shooting him a small grin. My smile seemed to help Naruto settle down as he continued walking with a smile now on his face. Four hours went by of continuous walking and my feet were starting to get tired, a small aching sensation pounded against the ball of my foot. I whined quietly, not wanting the others to hear, however, Kakashi Sensei’s superior hearing caught it as soon as it fluttered from my lungs.  “Prince Kichi,” he’s deep voice rumbled, “how about we rest and eat something?”  “Sounds like a lovely idea,” Prince Kichi hummed, “pull over.”  Everyone moved off of the path, pulling out their lunch to eat. I watched as Naruto made himself a quick bowl of instant ramen, smiling big as he waited for his noodles to steam up. I pulled out a bento box and started nibbling on some of the rice and other things I had packed, but really I was just enjoying not being on my feet. Lunch continued on for thirty minutes before we were up and stomping through the path once more. However, the happy trip didn’t last very long when my team and I noticed that there was a group of ninjas following us, hiding in the trees and leafy bushes. Naruto looked over at me with slanted eyes, my byakugan was activated and I held up five fingers indicating that there were five ninjas.   The five ninjas moved quickly amongst the green landscape, but I found myself laughing at the fact that they weren’t very good at sneaking around. That’s when my eyes widened as I noticed that another source of chakra flow was coming from beneath Kakashi Sensei. He didn’t seem to notice since he was more focused on the one moving beside him.  “Kakashi Sensei!” I yelled out, making him look at me, “move!”   Just as I warned him to get out of the way, the underground ninja slammed through the ground and latched onto Kakashi Sensei’s foot. He dragged Team 7’s leader into the ground up to his head before standing before all of us. Sasuke, Sakura, Naruto, and I stood between the rogue ninjas, who had joined the ninja who assaulted our Sensei, and Prince Kichi’s carriage. With my byakugan deactivated, I removed my kunai from my ninja pouch, the others following the same movement.  “Why don’t you four children step out of the way,” growled the leader, “we just want the prince.”  “If you want him, you’ll have to go through us,” Sasuke stated, a small smirk dancing across his lips, “now Kakashi, stop messing around.”  Kakashi Sensei bursted into a small amount of smoke and jumped down from a tree in front of us. Sakura squealed, “Kakashi Sensei!” Even though he wore a mask over his mouth, I could almost feel the smile on his face. Kakashi Sensei  looked at Sakura and I.  “Sakura, Akiko, guard the prince.”  “Right!” We said in unison. Naruto and Sasuke ran to join our sensei as the fight raged on. Sakura and I stayed behind guarding the prince as one of the rogues threw their kunai in our direction, his target obviously for the prince’s head as it slammed into the carriage, scraping his cheek. A small cry left Prince Kichi’s lips as he clasped his hand over the slightly bleeding cut. Sasuke turned around.  “Akiko! Behind you!” He yelled. I turned around and saw one of the ninjas charging at me. He started moving his hands to mimic symbols.  “Water Release: Water Cannon.”  His mouth pursed into a small circle as water came rushing out in quick, swift movements from his mouth. Steam hovered over the rocket of water. Sakura gasped, but I had to move quickly. My hands, with the speed of a jonin, created all the symbols needed for my move. The water was inching closer and closer.  “Ninja Arts: Barrier Seal Jutsu!”  Blue chakra from my body wrapped itself around the prince, Sakura, and I just as the gush of water slammed against it, bouncing off. The now hardened chakra protected the three of us from our enemies' attack. I pulled the kunai from the carriage and charged at the male ninja still trying to penetrate my barrier. Unfortunately for him, the chakra barrier was impenetrable. His eyes widened as I ran towards him, his kunai ready in my small hands. “Damn brat!” He hissed angrily. He went to punch me when I jumped up, avoiding his fist just a bit. His eyes widened as I slammed my foot into the back of his head causing him to fall to the ground. I landed on my feet inside the barrier as he climbed to his wobbling feet. I turned to Sakura and held out my hand.  “Give me a paper bomb,” I said, earning a nod from her as she set the paper bomb in my hand.  I attached the slim piece of paper onto the borrowed kunai and smiled.  “Let me give you back your kunai,” I said softly, my delicate hand tossing the cool metal towards our attacker.   Since he was still a bit taken aback from the hit to the head, he didn’t realize that the kunai now had a paper bomb latched to it and as it hit the ground, the bomb went off, causing a massive explosion and a loud scream to echo from his mouth. Sakura cheered. Kakashi Sensei was taking on the leader and another ninja while Naruto and Sasuke were teaming up against a third one. However, one of the rogues was missing and before I could activate my byakugan to see where he was hiding, a metal chain wrapped itself around Sasuke and yanked him around. Sasuke screamed out in pain as he was slammed through two trees and right into a large boulder.  “Sasuke!” Sakura cried out. The young Uchiha was lying against the cold stone and the ninja used that to his advantage. His large, muddy hands rapidly formed a group of symbols together, an evil smile appearing on his face. Sasuke couldn’t move from his restraints. He was also badly injured, making it impossible for him to stand up and move.  “Earth Release: Stone Spear.” Kakashi Sensei wasn’t able to get away from his opponents to rescue Sasuke and Naruto was being held against his opponent’s chest firmly. Sakura was frozen in place and trembling, tears slipping from her widened sea foam green eyes. Her small hand covering her mouth as the spear hurtled it’s way towards our bound teammate.   Making the ultimate decision, I ran from my spot behind the chakra barrier and moved in front of Sasuke. Everything felt slow. Naruto’s screaming for me to get out of the way, the dark chuckling coming from our opponents, Sakura’s screams, Kakashi’s movements as he used his chidori to free himself to come to our aid. But I didn’t waver. My skinny frame slid in front of Sasuke just as the spear slammed into me, piercing my skin through my white long sleeve shirt. It was now lodged into my abdomen and a high-pitched yelp struck the air. As I was crumbling to the ground, Kakashi Sensei used his chidori striking the two ninjas and the one that had used the stone spear. The last ninja released Naruto and scampered off into the woods. My body collapsed to the ground and everything started moving at a normal speed once more. All the air in my lungs was thin, tiny pants were leaving my chapped lips as I tried to catch my breath, metallic blood hugged my tastebuds. I could even feel the blood from my abdomen soaking my white shirt and lavender, overall skirt. Sasuke, who’d freed himself from his confinements, ran over with the rest of team 7. Prince Kichi stood in the distance, still protected by the faltering barrier. Soon it would be gone while I continued to black out.  “Akiko,” Naruto croaked, tears whelming up in his eyes.  Kakashi Sensei had removed the stone spear from my body and pressed his hand strongly against my wound.  “It’s okay, Akiko,” Kakashi said, worry laced in his voice, “you’re going to be okay.”  My eyes fluttered until they were staring at Sasuke, who was staring at me with wide eyes. I coughed, a wheezing sound leaving my lips, and I looked back at Kakashi Sensei.  “K-Ka-Kakashi S-Sensei,” I stuttered. “Shh, shh,” he whispered, “it’ll be okay. I promise.”  “Why?” Sasuke rasped, tears now forming in his eyes, “why would you throw yourself in front of me like that, knowing you’d be killed?”  “Don’t say that!” Yelled Naruto, eyes searing with pain and anger, “she’s not going to die! I won’t let her!” Sasuke didn’t react to Naruto’s outburst. I blinked once, and it was a slow blink.  “B-because if I d-didn’t, you w-would have d-d-died. T-then how would y-you revive your c-clan.”  Pain slashed through my body and I screamed, the pressure from Kakashi Sensei’s hand causing a small ache to erupt. I started seeing stars, my eyes started fluttering as everything became fuzzy, my friends’ voices fading more and more. I watched Kakashi Sensei’s face as he stared at me with desperation. Then everything went black.

Heat. That’s what I felt as my eyes opened. I was greeted by the sight of twinkling stars and the soft crackling of fire. Every inch of my body was aching with terrible shutters of pain. Slowly, and carefully, I started moving again, noticing that a sleeping Naruto was curled up beside me, his cheeks stained with dry tears. I looked around and saw Sakura also sleeping close to the fire, her hands stained with blood. Finally, I looked at myself and noticed that I wasn’t wearing my overall skirt anymore, just my black shorts and white shirt, which was still ruined with crimson, red blood.   Sighing, I pulled myself up from my spot, wincing as pain shot through my like pellets. I whimpered as I turned around, wanting to move and stop the growing ache in my body.  “Akiko.”  I snapped my head up and saw Kakashi Sensei sitting against the tree, wondering how I had missed him when looking at Sakura and Naruto. I also noticed that his uniform was coated in my blood as well.  “Kakashi -” As soon as I started speaking, I started coughing.  He was quick to come to my side, handing me a canteen of water. The nice, soothing water coated my burning throat.  “How are you feeling?” He asked, his revealed eye illuminating concern and worry as he watched me struggle.  “I’m so sore,” I whimpered.   “Maybe you should be laying back down.”  Shaking my head, I noticed that I didn’t see Sasuke sleeping amongst the others.  “Where’s Sasuke?”   Kakashi Sensei pointed to the top of the cliff in the distance where Sasuke was sitting, staring at the night sky. Kakashi Sensei, who had his hand firmly on my back supporting me, gently pushed me in his direction. I smiled a small appreciative smile before realizing that I still needed to thank him for coming to my aid as quickly as he did. I engulfed my sensei into a warm hug.  “Thank you, Kakashi Sensei.”  “Of course, Akiko.”  Sasuke sensed I was coming before I even finished walking towards him, immediately coming to my side as he saw me hobbling towards him. The two of us sat down comfortably underneath the blinking sky. It took me a long time to catch my breath since I was still hurting. I could feel my bandages tightening around my stomach as I sat. Once my breathing was caught up, I turned to Sasuke and smiled.  “You okay?” I asked, realizing how stupid the question it was when I slipped out.  “Me?” He questioned, raising a single eyebrow, “you’re the one who was impaled.” I giggled, shuttering in pain, “guess you’re right. But you did get injured too when you were slammed around.”   Sasuke didn’t reply and worry started seeping through my skull, the feeling of him being angry at me for showing him up made me want to puke. However, Sasuke didn’t seem to care about that when he started speaking again.  “You’re an idiot,” he whispered, “throwing yourself into danger like that. What would Naruto do without you. Or hell, Sakura. What would… what would I do without you?”  His sudden outburst of emotion surprised me. He was never one to become emotional, and I not only felt surprised but happy that he trusted me enough to be this way toward me.  “What do you mean?” I asked.  “Akiko, you’re the only girl who doesn’t run around throwing herself at me to win my affection, my love, my attention. You’re the only girl who looks at me and wants to improve on your ninja skill rather than gawk at me. The only girl I’m willing to talk to and get to know. I never want to see you hurt like that again, especially for me. I want you to stand by Naruto’s side, reach your own goals…”  I stopped his talking by wrapping my arms around him, hugging his sulking form, and resting my weak head against his strong shoulder. His tense body relaxed and he wrapped his arms around me. We sat there for a few minutes enjoying the warmth of one another before I released him. His scent lingered in my nose for a few minutes.  “Sasuke, I care about you. You’re my friend and I couldn’t bear to watch you get hurt. I also couldn’t bear to watch Sakura lose the person she loves the most, even if her girly crush can get a bit annoying. I would do it again, if it meant protecting those I loved and cared about. Even you.”   A small smirk appeared on his face and he pulled me back into his grasp. He eventually pulled me into his lap and rested my head against his chest. I felt a small pink tint rush to my cheeks as I listened to Sasuke’s beating heart. It was slow and steady, the pace slowly relaxing me back to sleep. “Don’t get use to this,” he whispered, “I’m only doing this because I was the reason you got hurt.”  A gentle giggle left my lips. It was a complete lie and I knew it. He even knew.  “And next time, I’ll save you.” He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, but I didn’t get enough time to react as another wave of sleep hit me. Soon I was snoozing right in Sasuke’s chest listening to the small pitter patter of his heart.

[randomideasmybrainhas]

Prompt 6 - Kya

For: @helplesslezbeean - hope you like it, thanks for reading!

Prompt 6 - Kya : ’God her smile could light up the world, and her toned body would sweep me off my feet, and her eyes, the window to her soul, which are looking at me, which are glaring at me, which are getting closer?’

---

We’ve been practicing for hours, and I no longer can feel my body from the frigid temperatures as we continue to bend the water back and forth. Korra is surely out to kill me for whatever apparent reason, since we’ve been practicing all day, and I’m sure I’ll end with a head cold soon enough. I continue to pull and push the water back to Korra thinking of warmer things, like hot cocoa, and sitting by a fire place, and under a blanket reading a book, and Kya… 

God, her smile could light up the world, and her toned body would sweep me off my feet, and her eyes, the window to her soul… which are looking at me… which are glaring at me… which are getting closer? I watched as Kya approached covered head to toe wearing an angry face, even though she seemed pissed at me, and I have no idea why, I don’t think she could get more beautiful. I know it’s wrong to view my mentor in anything other than a professional manner, but I’ve had it bad for Kya for as long as I can remember… She’s just always been there, and she’s such a strong bender. Hence why I’m out here in the frigid cold with Korra training to get better to match her skills. 

“What the hell are you two doing out here?!” Kya shouted over the howling wind, while taking the water and turning it into ice and putting it straight into the ground. I was stuttering out a response while trying to act like I wasn’t absolutely frigid and trying to contain all the body heat that I could muster. 

“We’re training, it was (y/n)’s idea anyways.” Korra said as she sent me a wink. I glared at her as Kya turned her undivided attention towards me with a glare. Any other time I would’ve died on the spot, instead I just kinda stood there trying to come up with a response. Kya simply shook her head and pointed back towards the huts. I sighed and hung my heat in defeat. Korra just laughed and hopped onto Naga and ran off. Great I thought, I was hoping Naga could get me in faster, and provide warmth. I looked towards Kya, and followed like a puppy with it’s tail between its legs and my head hung low.

“I don’t understand why you come and train in the worst conditions possible, do you think it’ll make you stronger somehow?” Kya asked as she kept her arms close to her body to preserve warmth. 

“Well yeah… Then I can fight in anything, and beat my opponents.” You replied sheepishly, while trying to look away from her impending glare. 

“Why on earth would you need to defeat someone so bad you would get sick for it?” Kya asked while she continue to trudge through the snow. You kept following, but whether it was because of the cold, or you were so sick of beating around the bush, you just blurted out, “I do it for you.”

You could die in that moment. You really wanted to.

Kya stopped in her tracks and stared at you while slightly shuttering. You wanted to say something, something better. Brush it off as a joke, but for whatever reason, you couldn’t. You just stood there and stared back at her. 

“What?”

“I- I do it for you. I want to be as good as you. I want to be better, and prove to you I’m capable of protecting you.” You stutter out in-between shivers and trying to not just implode on yourself. It was now or never, and honestly, how hadn’t she noticed before. You only but oogled her every chance you got. 

“For me? Geez (y/n). You are as good as me, and what protecting do I need? I’m quite older than you, I think I can handle myself, I’m not some weak old woman.” Kya huffed out. 

“I didn’t say you were, and never implied it either. You’re magnificent Kya. All I could hope to be and more. God Kya, I’ve been in love with you forever. You not only inspire me to be my best self, but you create this spark in me where all I can hope to do is impress you. I seek your attention and approval constantly, to where I’m out here for with Korra for hours to get better.” You shout over the wind, and step closer so she can hear you better. You were so close you could kiss her, and man did you want to. So badly, but you weren’t sure how this was going, and if it would be safe for you to do so. 

“(y/n)… I… I don’t know what to say.” Kya replied while staring at you, and your lips? Fuck it. You leaned in and brought her close to your body. You were an inch away from her lips and you whispered quietly to where you weren’t sure if she could hear you, “Then don’t say anything. Kiss me.”

And she did. She leaned in and her cold, soft, amazing, honey like, filled with all things happiness and sunshine kissed you. She kissed the life out of you, and if you died from you heart stop beating, you would be okay with that, because this was all you could ever ask for. She was so gentle, and hesitant, but firm and powerful, and it oozed her her pores how much she could dominate you in any way. If she asked you to run to the ends of the earth for her, you would. If she asked you to kill a whole army for her, you would. If she asked you to give you her life, well, she wuoldn’t have to ask, she already has it. After years of crushing on her, this was all you could ever ask for. You pulled her in even closer, and deepened the kiss. 

She continued to kiss you back as you fell more and more in love with her. It wasn’t until after a minute she had to break for air, though saddened, you knew it wouldn’t be good to have her actually die on you. 

“I’m freezing, can we please finish this back at the cabins?” Kya shivered out while shaking in your arms. You just grinned and kissed her quickly once more and instantly took her hand and started walking back to the cabins. No matter what happened, it was all okay, because Kya was here, and you were never shying away or letting go. 

“Oh, and (y/n)?” Kya asked.

“Hmm.” You replied with a grin.

“Never train in the fucking blizzard again. Not even for my attention, I’ll give you plenty if you stay in the warmth.” Kya said while giving you a quick wink and smirk. Her words floated right up to your brain like a drug, and man, you were never training with Korra again… 

—-

Hey, so I tried to keep this a little shorter with only 1,200 words, hopefully you liked it!! Please leave a like and comment!! Love you guys!

[the-slasher-files]

REQUEST: Jason - 58) “Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.” 78) “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” 93) “It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.” - @brahmsyboi​

ALRIGHTY let’s do this.. your first time with Jason.. be prepared for much softness, praise and coaxing, with a hint of blood :) also includes thigh riding, hair pulling, and giving him a bj... enjoy🔪💕

MASTERLIST

CREATURE COMFORT

WORD PROMPT: “Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”  “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.” AND “It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.”

Gentle rain beat down against the old glass widows off the cabin, running off in small streams and plopping into murky puddles in the mud. You were sat on the scratchy couch, watching the deer graze on the low hanging branches and small bushes in the rain. This place was bliss, and it surprised you daily with all the small things that could never be possible in the city.

A creature sat to your left beside you, taking in your beauty and adoring the way the gentle light caressed your features. He never thought, not once that he would be with someone, let alone someone that was so gentle and kind to him. You knew what he was but you loved him and accepted Jason through and through. 

A large damaged hand softly brushed your thigh, drawing your eyes to his one remaining azure eye hidden slightly by the hockey mask. Smiling at the large man he signed ‘do you know how beautiful you are?’ 

You honestly didn’t know how a man that carried the burden of being “the ruthless killer of camp crystal lake” could be so soft and sweet with the ones he loved. Crawling over to Jason’s large lap, he guided your small hips along, making sure you would never fall and showing his over protective side. Once straddling the creature he signed once more ‘It’s truly distracting’ making you giggle.

Even though you sat in his lap Jason still towered over you making you stretch your neck to kiss the plastic he dawned, covering his scarred features. “How are you so sweet, my love?” Making yourself more comfortable on Jason’s lap something stirred in his stomach and went straight to in between his legs, pulling a little grunt from him, maybe from embarrassment or excitement. Noticing your lovers subtilties you moved your small hands to cup Jason’s tense jaw, placing little kisses along the mask, never forcing him to take it off unless he wanted to himself. 

Although you and the masked killer had been together for a while, you had never done the ‘deed’ yet, and you were not going to push Jason knowing the whole reason why he kills anyway, but you were growing anxious. Your hands were only going to satisfy you for so long, especially when you lived a huge hunk of man. Slowly you grinding your hips against him, hoping and praying tonight was the night. Fuck you needed him so badly. 

“Baby, it’s ok... just relax” You whispered feeling Jason stiffen underneath you, hands lazily held your hips not knowing what to do. The man was still a virgin after all; when alive he was too young for sex and in his ‘afterlife’ Jason was only focused on revenge until you stumbled into his world. 

“My sweet sweet boy, it’s ok... it is natural do feel this way... it is just fine to have sex and it feels so good, Jason.” You praised. There had been more than a few times you got hot and heavy with the creature beneath you and he often fled into the woods, even if you tried to explain and coax, doing all you could to make sure Jason was comfortable but it was a constant war in his head. 

Running your small hands along his scarred massive body, shoulders broad, chest rising and falling slowly, feeling large muscles tense then ease then tense again from your soft touch. Your lover was a myth, a man, a beast, dead and alive all wrapped in one force of nature. It turned you on knowing you had all that tangled between your fingers. That and the friction of fabric along your increasingly wet heat made you moan. 

“Baby J... please?” you asked softly looking up at Jason’s wide eye, not knowing if he would toss you off him or let you finish. The man just nodded slowly and his grip tightened on your waist giving you the intense friction you needed. Your moaning got louder and your breath hitched as a burning coil fired up low in your stomach. Jason knew what you needed so he began to help guide you against his almost fully erect length, moving his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, feeling the vibrations of your moaning and panting. “Oh, Jason.. god, so good... J” with a few more thrusts you met your climax, more intense than usual given the fact that you were against the man that you yearned so much for.

Your hand moved to cradle Jason’s head against you, trying to slow your breathing and control your shakes. He felt everything, needing more but feeling too much guilt and embarrassment to move. “Thank you baby.. Jason thank you” Praising him slowly made him ease and pull away, back now against the couch looking down at your small frame coming down from the high. You were beautiful. 

“I love you baby..” you kissed the mangled jaw trailing down to his thick neck and down his chest, but he grunted almost in a protest as your hands found there way to his belt. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you... baby it’s ok.. I promise” 

Snaking away from his grip, your knees met the rustic hardwood, your hands slowly undid Jason’s belt just watching the large man above you. His eye darkened but was wide like an owls, large hands balled up in fists exposing some bone from the unhealed flesh and large veins running the bulking forearms. Feeling the girth painfully pressed against his worn jeans, you released the member free with a small gasp. You knew Jason was big, but fuck, he was so big. A good 8 inches and thick, circumcised with a large head and a vein that ran from base to tip, the slit weeping slow with precum.

“Fuck you’re so big Jason” you spoke noticing the man shuttering as you grasped his cock. “Good boy.. just relax” Taking a long lick on the underside from base to tip, he tensed at the feeling having never experienced this before. Opening your mouth you took him, softly sucking the tip and moving slowly down the shaft, while your hand worked at the base. Jason grunted deep and low, placing his massive hand on the back of your head, gentle messaging your scalp. Pulling your mouth as far down as you could on his hard length gagging on it, then pulling away repeating the process. It was a size you were going to have to train your gag reflex to relax on. 

Your lover groaned throwing his head back and his grip tightened on your hair, not realizing his own strength he probably yanked out a few of your hairs, but you didn’t mind, he was feeling an intense pleasure he had never felt before. Lewd noises filled the room as your mouth sucked up and down, spit trailing down your chin and his thigh, and tears burning in your eyes. You felt a twitch in Jason’s cock and he gripped hard on your hair, pushing you down on the length making you choke and gag, one large thrust into your mouth, a loud groan came from behind the mask and the white hot seed filled your mouth flowing down your throat. Pulling away with a pop of your mouth you swallowed his load, really making you his. 

“What a good boy Jason... good boy” The large hand released your head, and the man looked down at you, half lidded eye meeting yours, he panted as you smiled taking in his state. Jason pulled his hand to cup your jaw but quickly sat up straight and took his hand away noticing some pulled out hair tangled in his large fingers and some blood on the tips. “No, no, no baby. It’s ok...” you messaged Jason’s powerful thighs trying to ease him. “Jason, it’s fine I promise...” taking in his shocked expression as if he had just stabbed you with his machete and watched you bleed out. “It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.”

Grasping his hands you pulled them down and kissed each knuckle and whispering praise and sweet nothings. “I love you baby” 

The creature pulled up his mask revealing the damaged face, leaning down towards you capturing his rough lips against yours. Jason’s way for saying ‘I love you too’     

[tangledinmdzs]

Juniors falling for a peasant girl? (Like she’s known, throughout all the clans, for her beauty and her singing voice, which people hear when she’s fetching something).

i’m very music oriented so i’m deeply inspired by this reaction; thank you for sharing~

here’s to your request!

∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒𐐚 ° ˚ ₒ ∞ ∞ ₒ ˚ ° 𐐒𐐚 ° ˚ ₒ ∞

Lan Sizhui

he’d walked off the main road the moment that he had heard it

the sound, soft and lilting in the air, had first sounded like a bird’s whistle to his ears

but as his feet made its way deeper into the pathless forests, and his hands pushed aside the tall grassy bends, Sizhui realized that it was in fact a voice

Sizhui had never realized that a voice could sound as gentle and melodic as yours

it was sweetness to his ears

and when he saw you...

well...

it didn’t take Sizhui longer than 2 seconds to be smitten

he had followed your voice and found you squatted by the bend of a small secluded lake

you look to be in the middle of washing something, or playing with something (???)

the gentle flowing water, trickles in perfect harmony with your voice and Sizhui has a hard time believing that you were even human

he wants to get closer to you, but he accidentally steps on a branch loudly

the sound makes you jolt up in surprise, your singing interrupted as you stand up, clutching something to your chest

Sizhui stares, quickly from where he’s partially hidden in the under groves and bushes 

he doesn’t particularly know why he’s hiding, but he just was

he watches you stand still, looking around to see if anyone was there for a few long moments, before looking down at your closed hands

then you open them

Sizhui’s eyes widen

in your hands is a little bird, looking up to you with the brightest eyes

it chirps up to you, tilting its head this way and that in the warmth of your palm

you smile down at the creature, as small giggle escapes you

Sizhui’s heart stutters in his chest

“i’m glad you’re better now little one, now go find your momma,” you bid the bird 

it chirps up in response, almost like a thank you before flying off as you set it up into the air

Sizhui watches you as your eyes follow the bird’s flight to home

and feels as if his heart has taken flight in much the same way

Lan Jingyi

Jingyi had followed his best friend to this particular night hunt, as he usually would 

and as the procedures would have it, Sizhui and himself must look for a person that has information on the creature that’s been causing havoc in the town

the villagers point between one another all day and it is only in the afternoon after, that the two Lan disciples meet you

one of the older woman of the village had told them that you would have the most information about what kind of demon it was, considering that the part of the forest that was infested was a place you often went to to collect herbs

neither of the Lans like the sound of anyone being in potential danger, and so they hurry to find you

even though your village is small, it is surrounded by a lot of trees, so Sizhui and Jingyi end up splitting off to cover more ground

Jingyi doesn’t think that you even exist with how much time Sizhui and him had spent looking for you

but on the fourth day, when the high noon sun is beating down on his shoulders, Jingyi finds you

he finds you at the most obvious place, the village’s main well

and he feels incredibly stupid

Jingyi fixes his disheveled robes as he walks up to you pulling up the bucket from the well, thinking of all the questions that he needs to ask to know about the demon and other details

but all those words disappear as he gets within distance to you

you are singing as you work, a nice happy song that is somehow gentle despite its empowering lyrics

your voice echoes here and then whenever you bend down into the well and up as you pull the water bucket up

and when Jingyi is able to catch your face, the way the few strands of your hair fall and frame your face, 

Jingyi suddenly feels stupid

you finish filling up your final basket as your song ends and look up to see a cultivator in whiteish blue robes, staring at you

you widen your eyes, breaking out into a smile as you dab at your sweat with your hands

“hello, are you looking for someone?” 

“you, all of my life probably,” Jingyi mumbles out and you tilt your head at him in confusion

“i’m sorry, what did you say?” 

shit 

Jin Ling

despite this being one of the hundreds of night hunts that he has been on, Jin Ling is still anxious

his sect had planned to embark on the night hunt for the demon the following night

and of course, sleep had to be difficult to come now

Jin Ling’s mind runs rapid with the details of the operation, wondering exactly how things would play out, what he would do if things didn’t go according to plan

he had always worried too much

and this energetic mind of his would always deplete his energy; so he would never have enough when he would actually need it

Jin Ling knows this about himself well

but he can’t help it

he can’t sleep

Jin Ling lies in bed as the moon shines a white glow onto his bedside, contemplating whether or not he should go downstairs in his inn and ask for a drink to lull him to sleep

he almost does, his shoes had been put on, when he hears the voice

it’s gentle, but close in a way that Jin Ling’s never felt before 

Jin Ling follows the melody to his open window, pushing the shutters wider to look

there was no one on the streets, 

the shops all looked close

everything looked as desolate and empty as this tiny village was supposed to look

so where was this voice coming from?

Jin Ling wonders if his sleep deprived brain is just making up hallucinations at this point

but the song continues and it is nice, so Jin Ling takes a seat by the window listening anyways

he leans his head on his arm, looking up to the moon

was the moon singing to me, Jin Ling wonders letting his eyes close to their own accord

the voice follows him, even into dreamland

and as you sing from next door, you never realize that you would have reached someone’s heart 

Ouyang Zizhen

fate would have it to bring him to this town, this village, Zizhen thinks as he’s sat around the fire with the rest of his sect’s disciples

this tiny village on the outskirts of his sect, had been plagued by a night demon for many many weeks now

as the sect leader, of course it was his responsibly to protect his people

the night hunt was about as danger as most night hunts he’s ever been on

but all went well with his trusted friends and fellow cultivators

and in celebration of the relinquishing of the demon spirit, the village’s people had set up a small feast in deep gratitude to the night hunt efforts

and you had been chosen as the night’s entertainment

Zizhen quickly learns, from the elders that whisper and talk near his high table, that you were gentle and graceful like a summer breeze with a personality that’s bright like the season to match

you were known for many things in this small village, but you were most known for your voice, 

a voice that touched the heart of every listener

and when you come to stand by the bright glow of the small fire pit, Zizhen finds that all their words and whispers, were true

you sing with so much genuine emotion that Zizhen can’t help but feel his heart swoop and soar with each lyric that you sing

though you are only accompanied by the crackling of the fire beside you, the small crowd of cultivators and villagers listen in hushed anticipation, following the story of the song that you present

it is a sad piece despite today’s festive celebration, but it moves his heart in ways that Zizhen is grateful to have experienced

when you are finished, the rest of his disciples hoot and holler loudly, some friends even asking for you to sing again

but Zizhen stays quiet, his eyes never straying far from you

you bow deeply, and when you look up you meet his eyes

you blink in surprise, not meaning to be rude, not thinking that you would ever be able to look eye to eye with an esteemed cultivator such as himself

Zizhen gives you a smile and you hear his voice the clearest amongst all the other chatter and applause that surrounds you both

“your voice is truly magical,” 

your cheeks warm as bright red as the fire you are standing next to

and ZIzhen thinks it is a beautiful look on you 

[ren1327]

Seeing Stars ch.4

“Well?” Yaz asked, arms still around Sammy.

“Locked up tight, no one is getting in or out.” Darius said.

“What are you guys not telling us?” Kenji asked.

Ben sighed. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

“Why?”

“In a little under an hour…” Darius started. “There could be, will be a…tsunami?”

“A what?!” Kenji yelled.

“We had safeguards in place for this!” Darius said, putting up his hands in a calming gesture. “And as far as we’ve seen, all dinosaurs are present and accounted for.”

“Um…” Ben said as he looked over the computer, four red dots moving away from the green triangle that was home base.

“What the…Crap!” Sammy said.

“Looks like two juvenile ankylos, a baryonyx and…shit. The baby triceratops.” Ben hissed.

“Dammit. We’ll have to split up if we want to secure them and separate the current herds into the pens.” Brooklynn said.

“Bumpy and I can coral the ankylos and trike.” Ben said.

“And I got experience wrangling carnivores!” Sammy added.

Darius nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, I will.” Yaz said, stepping forward. “You should try to get in touch with Sorna and help Brooklynn sort the dinosaurs up.”

“I’ll go with Ben.” Kenji said.

“No!” Ben said. “It will be…I think you should stay here. It ought to be me really going…”

“Why?” The taller man asked, wrinkling his nose.

“Well I’m a…and you’re a…” Ben said sheepishly, his fingers twitching.

Kenji rolled his eyes, small fangs peeking from a snarl. “Look. We can discuss sexism in survival situations—”

“N-No! Kenji, you’re the heir to a…and I’m just a…” Ben waved his hands helplessly. “I don’t want you to get hurt!”

Kenji huffed. “You’re not my alpha. I can do this, Ben.”

He pushed past the smaller man and went towards where a sign said the garage was.

Ben bit his lip and Brooklynn put a hand on his shoulder.

“He’s scared, but he’s still our Kenji.”

He nodded and smiled at his friends.

“Forty minutes.”

“Let’s do this!” Brooklynn said.

*

Kenji tried not to cling to Ben as they rode bareback on Bumpy. The larger dinosaur was running back to the caves, the smaller Anklyos following her. She stopped at the mouth and the twins paused before trotting in, a metal door shutting behind them.

“Okay, that was easy.” Kenji said.

“Bumpy is kinda the beta of the herd, lone, but trustworthy.” Ben said.

“Okay, now for the baby—”

A scared screech reached them and said trike ran to them, huffing as Ben fumbled to open the door and let the poor thing in. If Brooklynn was at the helm, the ever shifting labyrinth of tunnels and doors would have all the herds in indoor pens filled with food and water, separated by thick steel and kept calm with light doses of sedatives.

It was a failsafe plan if there were ever another hurricane. The only downside was that the dinosaurs would be confined underground for three days and could get aggravated and violent being caged up for so long.

“Okay, Ankylos secure and baby back with her mom.” Brooklynn said over the walkie on Kenji’s hip.

“What was it running from?” Kenji asked.

“What?”

Kenji looked at Ben. “She was scared.”

“I…” Ben looked in the direction the trike had come from. “Do you hear that?”

Kenji sniffed and they both gasped when they heard a familiar voice.

“WU!”

*

“This is crazy.” Kenji whispered and he and Ben crouched behind long grass, watching Wu and a few men load crates into a helicopter.

“We need to see what they’re up to.” Ben said.

Wu looked over the men.

“Sir, there was an incident in Sorkin’s lab, a few specimens escaped.”

“Leave them be, we have the embryo’s and the eggs. It matters not if the prototypes drown.” He said. “Did Hunter find the others?”

“No, we think they escaped on a second ferry.” The same man said.

“Shame.” Wu said and walked to the helicopter as the last of the boxes were loaded and he boarded.

“We’ll take the last chopper to get Kendall.” The man said and Wu nodded, the doors closing behind him.

“Kendall?” Kenji asked as the helicopter rose.

Ben pulled him behind a tree and they watched as a man waited with the last chopper and the pilot.

There was a screech and he yelled suddenly as a shape from under the chopper whipped around his leg, then took off in the bushes opposite of the two.

Ben covered his mouth as Kenji peered around the tree they were behind.

“What was that?” He asked Ben, who stayed silent.

The man groaned and fell to his knees. The pilot came out and cursed.

“Let’s get airborne!” He told the other and they both got in, the other man slumping in the back.

Ben grabbed Kenji’s hand and led him back into the trees.

“What was that?” He asked again as they heard the chopper lift up and away.

“I don’t know!” Ben yelled back as they saw the cave and the same slim shape disappearing into it.

Kenji pulled Ben back.

“There it is.” He said and Ben looked around.

“This way.” He urged, pulling Kenji to a hidden staircase.

Kenji staired at the odd optical illusion of rocks forming steps going perfecting along the side of the hidden base.

“How…?”

“Grayson and his whimsy.” Ben said with a smile and started climbing.

Kenji followed and Ben led him higher and higher, the wind now making Kenji clutch to hidden hand holds in cracks and crevasses. He didn’t dare look down, they having passed the tree tops a few minutes ago.

“Be careful here.” Ben called as he climbed over a cliff and onto a flat ledge, holding out a hand to help Kenji climb up the last few feet.

The older man panted, looking up at the darkening cloud filled sky.

“Wow…” He said and looked over the edge, finding them about six stories up.

“This should get us into the observation deck.” Ben said.

“Should it now?” A voice asked and they turned to see Hunter waiting with a rifle.

“Whoa! Why are you here?” Ben asked.

“I was hoping to be picked up by the last helicopter.” He said, looking over the side to the low tide, the ocean seeming to swell in the distance. “And they’re taking their sweet time.”

“Why are you helping Wu?!” Kenji yelled.

“Why not?” Hunter said. “I failed the first part of the plan.”

He snarled.

“You had to be an uppity bitch and chose Roth.” Hunter said. “I was being truthful…”

Ben noticed something off.

“I know that gun.”

“I’m sure you do. It was recovered as part of my will.” Hunter said.

“…Oh my god…” Ben said.

“What?” Kenji asked.

“Tiff and Mitch…you look like…”

“Cause I’m their son, Dumbass.” Hunter said, rolling his eyes.

“I thought they hated kids!” Kenji yelled.

“Oh they did.” Hunter said. “Shucked me off with a loser uncle who worked in…ugh. Finance.” Hunter said, curling his lip in disgust.

“Wow.” Ben said and blinked, eyes flitting to Kenji. “Sorry for…well, everything.”

“Yeah, well…” Hunter said, the trigger clicking.

“Um…” Kenji whispered as he saw something creep from the shadows. “What the heck is that?”

Ben gasped and put a hand out, trying to protect Kenji as a small creature with bulbus eyes and a long thin neck chirped and seemed to look at the three men.

“What the hell is that...?” Kenji asked again.

“Don’t move.” Ben whispered. “Just…try to make it to the door and get the door open when I say to run.”

“Door?” Kenji asked as Ben’s finger twitched, pointing out a break in the rock too large to be a normal fission.

Ben then slowly reached to his belt, taking out a retractable baton, a loud noise enveloping them.

A helicopter flew up to them, startling the little creature. Hunter whirled around and fired off a shot at it, who in turn moved like a blur to his leg, biting it hard, the blond man screaming in pain.

“Go!” Ben yelled and Kenji ran for the small alcove in the rock, finding a hinged door like a submarine’s and using brute strength to twist the knob open and get inside. Ben backed up quickly toward him as they heard a helicopter, Hunter kicking the small creature over the ledge and turning his gun back on them as Ben gasped.

“Hunter, behind you!” He yelled as the ocean rose and crested, a wave coming right for them.

The blond man turned to see the oncoming wave and yelled in anger. He turned and ran towards a dropped ladder, grabbing it and turning to glare at them as the helicopter rose.

Ben climbed over the frame and threw the heavy iron closed and he and Kenji twisted it shut again, a boom hitting the side, water leaking in and spraying them as they were knocked back from the wave’s impact on the faux mountains.

Kenji was knocked onto Ben and suddenly yelled in pain.

Ben looked at Kenji’s thigh, another one of those creatures biting into the taller man.

His alpha roared, the sound coming from deep in his chest as Ben suddenly grabbed the creatures neck with both hands and squeezed hard, hearing crunching as the little monster went limp.

“Jesus, Ben.” Kenji said with a gulp as Ben dropped it.

Ben blinked and looked at his hands. He shuttered, closing them. “I…I don’t know…I don’t know why…”

“I-It’s okay.” Kenji whispered, taking his hands in his. Ben looked at them and squeezed Kenji’s hands back.

“We need to get back to the others.” Ben said after a moment, leading Kenji to the hidden hall toward the living quarters. “Who knows how many…”

“Ben and Kenji, come in!” a speaker garbled at the end of the hall from next to a large metal locker.

Ben ran to the wall monitor, pushing a black button. “We’re here!”

“You two need to book back to the apartments!” Brooklynn said, voice panicked. “We have an infestation! The bites are poisonous! They hate light!”

“What?”

“Ben!” Darius’ voice took over. “Troodons have somehow invaded the halls, we locked them out from the dinosaurs, but they’ll zero in on you! They have light sensitivity, but they’re starving, so I don’t know—bzzzt!”

“Darius?” Ben called. “Darius!”

He looked around the intercom, then to the locker. He muttered the emergency code and it clicked open. Ben sighed in relief and opened the door, finding a disaster pack, and first aid kit along with flares and flashlights. He checked the batteries in them and nodded.

“Ben?” Kenji whispered from behind him. “I don’t feel so hot…”

“No.” Ben whispered as Kenji slumped against a wall. “No, no, no…”

Ben ran to Kenji and helped him sit, leaning him against the wall.

He heard chittering from down the tunnels.

��Protect Mate…’

“Yeah. That’s something we can agree on.” Ben said softly, grabbing a familiar long taser and taking off his outer shirt to soak in some alcohol and keep in a plastic bag. He then took the first aid kit, using the wipes and bandages to try and clean Kenji’s wounds the best he could.

“I’m going to cut your pant leg off.” He said and Kenji nodded, Ben using small scissor to cut away the fabric and see the red, inflamed skin. He poured disinfected on it, gently padding at the bite with clean padding.

Kenji groaned and Ben wanted to nuzzle him…comfort his omega.

But for now, he wrapped him in bandages and helped him to his feet.

“We have to get two floors down.” Ben said softly. “Can you try to be strong for me, Kenji?”

“Yes…” He said. “I can…I can do this.”

“Good.” He said and gave him a flashlight and taking out a flare.

He lit it and held it out towards the unknown darkness.

“Let’s do this.”

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

Wow! Sorry this took so long. So tomorrow, I was thinking of playing a few games for Cinco de Mayo. I've...missed writing.

So I will do some shorts and answer asks from one of those Get to Know Me lists.

Thanks guys, stay sweet!

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: Holding Hands (Benoit/Marta, Knives Out)

I was going to write a flash fic based on a prompt I got ‘he meets her mother.  ha! Flash fic.  In actually a little more than 3000 words that is clearly not only a first attempt at Cablanca, but also an attempt to deal with stress.

WARNING: fic deals with Covid 19, which might be too much for some people at the moment.

Takes place about a month after the movie. _____ Benoit grinned when his phone rang.  It was Marta’s phone calls in the middle of the day that made his isolation bearable.  He was not a man well built for quartine, no matter how resolute he was to write a book, and no matter how many push-ups he did in his free time.  He couldn’t stand more than an hour of tv a day, and there was only so much news he could read before wanting to pull the plug on his internet.  A week ago Marta had called him during her break; hospitals needed extra help and of course she’d been one of the first to answer the call.  The first time she’d had an actual question about a subpoena she’d recieved, but after that the calls had continued each day at the end of her shift.  They had talked of nothing in particular and everything except the virus for a half-hour while she sat in a park and he sat in his apartment.  

“From my window I can see a flowering quince.  The whole bush looks like it’s on fire with the most vivid of red flowers.  I shall attempt to send you a photograph if my neighbor’s cat ever decides to move off the fence.  He is rather blocking my view.”  He liked to have some pretty thought ready when she called, a reminder that not everything was as grim as respirator shortages and sore feet.

“Is this Mr. Blanc?”  The voice on the other end of the phone was not Marta, though there was a similarity in tone and accent.  He looked at the display on his phone; it did say Marta Cabrera.

“It is. May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking with?”

“This is Elena Cabrera.  We’ve never met but my daughter has spoken of you.”  Her voice broke, just for a moment, barely more than a pause to draw in a breath, but it was enough to give him a clue.  Benoit sat on the closest surface, which happened to be the edge of his bed.

“Something’s happened to Marta.”  Talking with Marta every day was a delight in its own right, but it was also an affirmation that she was alright.  Tired and sore and worried, but whole and healthy despite the risks compounding daily.

“She was going to stay home today because she wasn’t feeling well, but this morning she started coughing and couldn’t catch her breath.  There’s an oxygen tank at the house and she thought that might be enough but it wasn’t helping.  She needs a ventilator.”  

“She’s at the hospital?”  He closed his eyes, almost able to feel her small cold hand in his as they sat in plastic chairs in a waiting room, waiting to hear a prognosis.  She wasn’t Fran, though.  It wasn’t the same.

“She’s on her way.  We had to call an ambulance.”  For a moment there was no noise; he almost thought he could hear Elena’s heartbeat.  Maybe it was his own.  “I thought you should know.  Marta told me that you two had been talking.”

“You have raised a very intelligent daughter, Mrs. Cabrera.  A very kind and compassionate woman, not that I need to tell you that.  She is also strong.”  He was reminding himself more than her. “Thank you for calling me.”

“I have to go now, Mr. Blanc.  I don’t want her to be alone.”

“It’s Benoit, please, and if there is anything I can assist with please don’t hesitate to call.”

He spent a full minute staring out the window; from his seated position he could only see one flower on the bush.  The next minute he was on his computer, and relieved to find that despite so many businesses being shuttered he was still able to find a flight that left in a little over two hours.  He could be at Marta’s side by tonight.

He always kept a bag packed, never knowing when he might be called out on a case.  There were no plants to water, no pets to worry about.  He took a few minutes to find his copy of Chandler’s Farewell My Lovely because he’d told Marta about it, but other than that it was ten minutes from the end of the phone call to locking the door to the apartment.  He hadn’t been outside for three days, except for late-night runs.

The roads were virtually empty, an eerie sight that he was grateful for as he headed for the airport.  It only took him fifteen minutes to drive, which wasn’t an accident.  He traveled enough that proximity to the airport had been one of his apartment requirements.  Likewise he flew enough that it was worth his time to pay for TSA preferred.  He made it to his flight with time to spare.

There were only a few dozen people on the flight, everyone sitting in their own row unless they traveled together and the flight attendants wearing gloves and masks.  He was glad that the amount of conversation that was required of him was minimal.  Usually he was glad to talk to a neighbor or exchange pleasantries with the attendants.  Since the New Yorker article he’d even had a few requests for autographs.  Today, though, his only interest was on getting off the plane, as if his added focus could somehow make the plane land just a little earlier.  He politely refused a drink and pretzels.

The sky was just shading to dusk when he drove his rental car to the hospital.  It was the same place he’d been to before, the same place where Fran had died.  Marta wasn’t Fran, though.  She hadn’t been poisoned.  No one had tried to kill her.  No one he could fight, at least.  No enemy he could put his hands on and pummel to the ground.

“I’m looking for Marta Cabrera, please.”  

“I’m only allowed to give out information about patients to family members.”

“I am working with the police on an investigation.  Detective Blanc.”  If he thought he could have gotten away with calling himself family he would have, but he didn’t know if they would check with Marta’s mother.  Lieutenant Elliott, though, could probably be trusted to lie for him if necessary.

“Just a moment Detective.”  The nurse’s hand shook a little as she used the computer; too much coffee and not enough sleep was his guess.  She told him the room number and a moment later was answering the phone.  She probably didn’t hear his thank you.  Rather than waiting for an elevator he sprinted up three flights to stairs. 

A woman who looked too much like Marta to leave any doubt that she was Elena Cabrera was sitting next to a hospital bed talking in a low voice.  The only other person in the room was Marta herself.  Benoit didn’t know how a twin bed could make anyone look so small.  He knew she was only a few inches below his own modest height, but in the hospital gown with blankets pulled up to her chest she looked delicate and too pale.  On her left a machine beeped with proof that her too-big heart was beating.  On her right a machine assisted with her breathing.  From the doorway he couldn’t tell if she was conscious.

“Can I help you?”  Elana Cabrera stepped around the bed, standing in front of it with all the fierceness of a mama bear protecting her cub.  She all but obscured his view.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but I had hoped…”

“You’re Benoit Blanc.”  She tilted her head to the side, looking at him.  “I didn’t expect you to come here.”

He had been so focused on getting to Marta that it hadn’t occurred to him what it might look like when he showed up.  He had seen her a few times in the week after Ransom’s arrest, but then he had gone home, working two more cases in the past month before it had become obvious that he needed to stay at home.  They had talked about the case a few times over the phone.  Outside of this past week he wasn’t sure most people would call them friends even.

He couldn’t get her out of his head, not since that first moment he’d seen her foot bouncing on the floor, this woman with a kind heart so obviously grieving for a friend more than anyone in the Thrombey family grieved.  His first instinct, even after seeing the blood drop on her shoe, had been to protect her from a wake of vultures.

“I thought I might see for myself if you or your daughter needed anything.”  As if he’d just come across town to visit, not on a plane from eight states away.  “How is she?”

“They gave her something to help with the fever but she needed the ventilator to help her breathe.  She’s awake sometimes, but can’t talk.  You sit with her, I’ll go find another chair.”

“Please, let me go.  I did not mean to deprive you of either a chair or time at your daughter’s side.”

“I need to stretch my legs a little and get some coffee.  You’ll stay until I get back at least?”

“I’ll stay.”  He had no intention of leaving, not anytime soon.  After Elena left he dropped his travel bag in the farthest corner of the room.  He stopped long enough to take out a book before slipping into the only chair in the room.  Marta’s eyes were still closed.  Her hand rested against the blanket close enough that he could take it in his own if he dared.

“I believe I mentioned the other day a need to take care of yourself.  You said you were safe with your masks and your gloves.”  He had barely dared mention his concern for her safety.  “This is not what taking care of yourself looks like.”

An overwhelming need to touch her drove him into taking her hand.  It was cold, but her hand was always cold.  She wore sweaters even in the summer, she’d told him.  His own hand was far from cold and he wrapped it around her fingers, willing his heat into her hand.  His life force too, if need be.

“I hoped to see you again, but it was my intention to ask you to dinner.  Someplace nice, where I would hold out the chair for you and tell you how beautiful you looked.”  She always looked beautiful, even now with the medical tape on her cheek and the shadows under her eyes.  He wondered how much was being sick and how much was working too hard.  Would he ever get to see her when she was simply relaxed and happy?  “Truth be told I was working on an excuse to come up here.  It would have been only polite to call if I was to return to the area for a job.  Someone offered me a case in Connecticut and that’s practically next door.”

Marta’s eyelashes fluttered; he held his breath to see if she would open her eyes.  She didn’t.  

“You’ve had so many changes these last weeks.  I didn’t want to complicate things but dinner wouldn’t be too much, would it?”

“I’m afraid the only dinner she’s having today comes in an IV drip.”  A nurse, mask over her face and gloves on, came into the room.  

“How is she?”

“We’ve been able to bring down her fever, and that’s a good sign.  We’re pushing fluids, since there was some dehydration.  That could be the fever or it could be that she’s been worrying hard and not taking enough breaks for food and water.”  The nurse changed the nearly empty saline bag for a full one.  “If she fights half as hard for herself as she does her patients she’ll be fine.”

“Did you hear that darling?  You’re a fighter, and you need to beat this thing.”  When the nurse was gone he squeezed Marta’s hand, talking to her in a low voice.  

“I need…”  He needed her.  It was as simple and as complicated as that.  His life was a nomadic one, going where the cases called him.  The last time he’d sat beside a hospital bed had been more than ten years ago when he’d bid adieu to his mama, the last solid tie he’d had.  He’d dated occasionally but never anything serious enough to look at jewelry.  At some point he’d just assumed that he was past the age of considering marriage.

And then he’d met Marta.  He wanted everything with her. He wanted to pick up his entire life and move it to wherever she wanted to be.  He wanted to court her like she deserved, wanted to hold her hand, wanted to know what it was like to kiss her.  Now he just wanted her to breathe.  “You just keep fighting, like this blasted virus is Thrombey kin, you hear?”  

He spoke to her of the flowers he’d seen from the window of his apartment and the woman who walked her small dog every day no matter the weather.  Nothing of consequence, but talking was easier than silence.  When Elena returned she carried two coffees and offered one to him.

“I have sugar and powdered creamer if you need anything.  Someone will be in shortly with a second chair.”

“Black is fine, thank you.”  Reluctantly he let go of Marta’s hand and stood up.  “I do insist you take the chair, Mrs. Cabrera.”

“Elena please.”  She didn’t argue, collapsing into the chair.  “Did she wake up at all?”

“No, but the nurse was in to change the IV and said her fever is improving.”  He wanted to pace but only allowed himself to walk to the other side of the bed.  

“Thank God for that.”  Elena fingered a medallion hanging from a necklace.  “She was never sick very often as a child, not once we figured out her unique response to…”

“She is a very honest person who does not handle deception well.”  Honest.  Kind.  Perhaps it was the fact that she was so different from the people he met during the course of his work that drew him to her.  Or perhaps it was just her.

“She’s a good girl.”  Elena’s voice shook.  Benoit scrambled for something to say to help her steady herself.

“I bet you have a few good stories to tell about her childhood.  I would be indebted to you if you told me one or two; I do so love a good story.”  With perfect timing an orderly brought in a chair and he settled in.  “Nothing that would embarrass her, of course.”

“You and my daughter…”

“Friends, ma’am.”  For the moment it was the only truth, but that didn’t stop him from resting his hand over her fingers, keeping away from the IV needle at the back of her hand.

Elena told stories, and he added a few from his own childhood in exchange.  By the time the hospital was quieting down he was able to convince her that she should go home and get some sleep.  He could be trusted to sit with Marta.

“Where are you staying while you’re here?” She asked as she stood near the doorway, looking at her daughter and having trouble leaving.

“I am well used to sleeping in chairs.  I’ll get some sleep when I need it.”  Staying up for a couple of days wasn’t uncommon in his line of work.  

“When I come back in the morning you’ll go get some rest at our house.  Marta’s house.  You know there are plenty of rooms.”  She touched his arm, reminding him for a moment of his own dead mama.  “You won’t help her by exhausting yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Benoit was four chapters into Fairwell My Lovely when he looked up to find Marta looking at him.  The book almost fell from his hold.  “Hey there sleeping beauty.”

When she struggled to speak he leaned in, touching her cheek lightly with his fingers.  “You have a ventilator, which is why you can’t talk.  Your mama was here with you all day but went home to sleep and report back to your sister.  You missed our phone call today so I thought I’d drop in and see how you were doing.  Everyone is fine.  You’re going to be fine.”

She looked confused, but he didn’t know if it was his presence that was the issue or her location.  “Do you need me to find a nurse?”

Slowly she shook her head.  

“Call your mother?”  Again a shake.

“I was reading that Chandler novel I told you about, shall I continue?”  The nod of her head was barely perceptible.  He settled back in, holding the book higher so he could look at her and the page.  His free hand touched hers and after the first few lines he could feel her squeeze his fingers.

It was three days later when the doctor decided that she was responding well enough to treatment that she should be able to breathe on her own.  He waited outside the room while they took out the tube, frowning at the coughing and listening for the sounds of breathing even though he was too far away to distinguish her breathing from anyone else in the room.  When he returned she had a cannulas in her nose for oxygen.

“You’re here.”  Her voice was raspy and dry.  It was the best sound he’d ever heard.

“Did you think I would make my exit without letting you know?”  In the last three days he’d only left the hospital twice, both times to sleep in a guest room of the former Thrombey mansion.

“No, I mean you came here.”  Elena quietly got up from the chair beside her daughter’s bed.  

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.  I need something,” she said vaguely.  Benoit moved closer to the bed.

“I couldn’t be anywhere else.  You mean a great deal to me, Marta Cabrera.”  It was as much as he dared to say.  

“I thought I dreamed you.  Your voice…” she coughed, seeming to have trouble catching her breath.

“I don’t believe anyone has confused me for a dream before.”  He held a glass of water for her, letting her take a small sip.  It seemed to help.

“I missed you.”  Her eyes closed for a moment but then opened again.  He could look at her eyes forever.

“I missed you too.”  There were a million other things he wanted to say but they could wait.  They had time.  When he sat down beside her bed she held his hand and for the moment it was everything.

[safeguardshuttersptyltd]

Roller Shutters in Sydney

Roller Shutters in Sydney are essential for enhancing the security, privacy, and energy efficiency of your property. For top-quality roller shutters, trust Roller Shutters Sydney by Safe Guard Shutters Pty Ltd. Known for their reliability and exceptional service, Safe Guard Shutters Pty Ltd is a leading provider of roller shutter solutions in Sydney. Safe Guard Shutters Pty Ltd offers a…

[songbrook]

Seconds...

*music* Part 1 Kiss the Rain Part 2 The Assassin Part 3 Shelter From the Storm Tagging @gloamingdawn​​ - You’re it. @ouroandar​​, @trisandrah​​, @saltsparkle​​ As Raerys stood over Ouro, gun in hand, tears and rain blurring her vision she caught motion down the walkway. The barrel of her revolver swung to meet it, sight set and her hands steadying. She blinked several times, forcing saline and rain through her lashes, trying to visually lock on the target. Just as she feared there had been more than one, and Ouro was unconscious, leaving the last comer to her. 

Lightning illuminated the yard, exposing her quarry. A blurry figure running at full tilt, hands raised as if holding a gun, a gun that Raerys didn’t see. Just that quick the visual was gone, now only the shiny wet ripples of the figure’s clothing caught the too-soft light spreading from the porch lights and the opened front door. “Just a few more steps…” Raerys thought, waiting, waiting for the figure to come clear in the ambient glow of the stoop. His sacrifice would not be in vain however, she drew back the hammer with her thumb, and slowed her breathing. Whoever these people were, they had no idea who they were dealing with when it came to her. She felt ice-cold resolve in her veins, thoughts of Olivia foremost now, even as Ouro lay bleeding to death at her feet.  She would give no warning, only shoot, once she could see them clearly enough to make sure her bullet found its true home, deep in their brain. She had never shot another sentient being, but that wouldn't preclude her doing it now. Her daughter was inside and she'd vowed a long time ago to snuff the life of anyone who dared come for her or Olivia. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Fiddle,” Trisandrah sighed as she approached the far end of Dawning Lane. Though there was no rain here, the bubble of Silvermoon extending over the old ruins enough to protect it from the elements, she could smell the ozone of lightning and see the heavy clouds above obscuring the stars of the night sky. The temperature here was chill and the air damp, indicating that once she passed through the gate there was a full on gale out there. She paused for a moment, considering waiting it out. She had her heavy laden cart full of boxes, paper bags and little this-and-thats which decorated her table at Menagerie. As she stood, weighing her options she spied a young courier who burst through the gate, soaked to the bone and making haste. “You there! Hallooo! Would you like to make a bit of extra side coin?” She asked, slowing the youth: a boy of indeterminate age in the unmistakable livery of Falthrien Academy. He came up short, looking at her through rain traced lashes, nodding. “Sure, Lady… what you got? And where is it going?” Tris wriggled the handle of her cart, giving him a winning smile. One of those sly and flirty smiles she was so good at, the entrapment smile as Raerys liked to name it. The one no one seemed able to say no to. “Oh, just this little cart here… if you could just take it up the way to the inn and leave it with Miss Delaniel with a word that Miss Emberstrom will be along in the morning to pick it up, I’d be ever so grateful.” The youth’s momentary dazzlement at Trisandrah’s wayward grin melted as she gave the specifics. The cart would certainly slow him down and all he wanted just now was to make it to the Spire and then find a warm dry place to get a late super. A credulous eyebrow was his response, while his body fidgeted - ready to get back at it. “I’ll make it worth your while…” Tris dipped into her purse, withdrawing three gold coins. She splay them like cards in her dexterous fingers and tried the grin again. The boy softened for a second at her expression and then squared his shoulders and pursed his lips. “Hrm… not quite it I see. Howsabout…?” Tris turned and rifled through the cart, bringing up the box of rose creams she’d saved aside for Raerys. “You can take this as well, and if they’re not to your taste you could gift them to your girl?” It must have been adequate, for he extended a wet and dripping arm, hand palm up for the coin. “Alright, I’ll do it.” Tris dropped the coins into his extended hand and then handed over the box. The youth, tucked the candy box under his arm and pocketed the change. Tris turned slightly offering the cart and the boy leapt forward and grabbed the handle from her. Without another word he bolted down the golden-cobbled street.The cart bounced and rattled with the motion, seeming to complain at the speed, but before Tris could offer a caution about it tipping, he was already too far away to bother. With that bit of business concluded, she wrinkled her nose and cast a quick cantrip to provide some shelter from the rain. Above her head and down to her shoulders a shimmering arcane dome appeared, looking something like a carnival glass umbrella. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do. Out into the wind and wet she ventured, feet picking up a swift track. The promise of warmth and shelter at Raerys, with little Olivia and a roaring fire sounded just perfect as a cap for her evening. Through the gusts of wind, which carried heavy drops of rain she persisted, her fine leather shoes soon soft as mush but for their spiked heels. “Oh, Fiddle…” she said, yet again. She was almost to their lane, when she decided to stop and slip off her now destroyed shoes, preferring at this point the comfort and safety of bare soles. Just as she slid out of the left one, the right already in her hands she heard a sharp crack of electricity. The sky lightened, turning the inky landscape into a black and white photograph all around her. She thought, perhaps she’d heard a yelp, but then it was whisked away by the thunder that followed the lightning strike. Looking down toward the little house with blue shutters she saw one of the aspen in the yard glowed, a seam of fire running down its paper-white bark. “Gracious! That’s close…” She fretted a moment, then headed off again, picking up her pace as much as bare-feet would allow. The closer she got the more attention the front facade of the house took. During the brief flashes of light, she thought she saw two figures in the yard, very close to Raerys’ stoop. They appeared to be clashing, but as the darkness filled the void of momentary light, she chocked it up to Raerys’ hydrangea bushes out front being ravaged by the howling coastal wind. And then just before she let out a soft sigh, glad to be within the slight glow of the little house with the blue shutters, she heard a scream. A masculine scream of agony. Something had happened, was happening! The little chocolatier broke into a run, bare feet pounding down the path to the house, splashing through puddles that soaked the hem of her dress. As she ran, she squinted into the night, trying to make out what slowly came clear the closer she got. A crumpled form on the doorstep, another swaying in the wind just beside it and the growing sound of gurgling and sobbing. She lifted her hands on instinct, the words and gestures of a spell coming without effort as she leapt over the little garden gate. The scene went bright, as if another strike of lightning had landed amidst it, but it held steady and only then did Tris see Raerys’ figure backlit by the lights in the house and framed in the open door. Raerys had her pistol and Tris could make out the swaying form was Ouro. Blood, lots of blood ran through with rainwater seemed to flood the stoop and roll down the face of that little stone step. Was it Ouro’s or the other man’s? Questions, a billion of them suddenly crowded her mind, but they were all eclipsed as she heard the hammer of Raerys’ revolver click and realized she was staring down its barrel. She would not be able to stop the spell now, no… she could feel the fire singing her fingertips, smell the rank odor of infernal magics as they crackled about her aura. She did the only thing she could, she screamed and swung her hands left, forcing the magma like-ball of fire she’d accumulated out over the side-yard. “RAE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tris' sodden features grew steadily closer, running full tilt toward the house. Tris was likewise poised, her hands and fingers curved into arcane forms, her mouth already muttering against the howling wind a spell of fiery destruction. Raerys leaned into the shot, head tilting just a little to fix her gaze down the sight, her hands re-gripping the weapon as she prepared to unload the contents of the pearl-handled revolver into the second assassin. In the haze of wrath and terror, Raerys didn’t make out Tris’s face, nor the soaked frilly frock that clung to Tris’s legs as she ran toward the house. All she saw was the figure advancing and the churning pyroclastic mass that was forming in its fingers. She knew in a moment, she, Ouro and the house would be on fire, a fire that even the wet of this storm would not quell. It was now or never, her finger slowly curled, pushing its soft pad to the trigger. And then the second scream, Tris’s voice, Tris calling to her, and then Tris’s horror-widened eyes burning from the rushing figure. Raerys dropped her arm, shaking so hard that she thought she too may end up a lump on the stoop, next to Ouro’s dying body and that of the now dead assailant. Sobs, heavy and all encompassing surged through her, as she tilted and then sagged forward, catching her shoulder on the blood smeared pillar of the porch. The stench of demonic magic filled the air as the pyroclastic mass shot out like a cannonball, followed by a fiery tail that arched out and over the garden, headed for the garden gazebo that Raerys had labored so long to erect. But it mattered not a wit, for it would not take a life or burn down a home. There was no time for shock, no time for questions or recriminations or anything else extraneous in that moment. The two women locked eyes, one bend and winded with exertion, hovering over the bleeding figures of two men and the other bent and sobbing, leaned against a bloody post. “Fiddle, fiddle, FIDDLE FUCK!” Tris finally exclaimed, pushing herself up to standing as she surveyed the mess. “Exactly that… ok, I think Ouro is still alive… we got to get him inside.” Raerys un-cocked the revolver and tucked it into the waistband of her pants, naturally sliding the safety on as she did so. “You grab his feet and I’ll get his shoulders, hurry and then we need to get Lyne on the com and check on Olivia… ohmyfuckingsun…” Tris nodded, quick to scoop up Ouro’s feet and long legs as Raerys slid her hands under his arms, securing him about their pits and began to drag/lift him over the threshold and into the little house with blue shutters. He felt like a sack of flour, lifeless and limp, heavy and awkward but the two managed with a few sworn words and a near slip of Tris’s feet as she stepped wrong in the puddle of viscous blood on the stoop. Breaching the threshold they were bathed in warm light, the quaint little house suddenly christened with blood and violence felt different, its hard edges in sudden relief. Laboring together Raerys and Trisandrah managed him to the couch, a fine silken thing with hand painted blue and green finery. The trail of blood behind them was troubling, doubly so as they lay Ouro down on the silk and the blue turned to purple and the green to a muddy brown. “Fuck.. ok, I’ll get Olivia, you call Lyne.” Before Tris could contest, Raerys was gone, running down the hall toward the bathroom. Trisandrah dug into her purse and found her comm and with a touch she made the connection. It was Lyne’s private code, direct line to their friend and healer. Tris relayed what she knew, which wasn’t much, that Ouro lay bleeding badly on the couch and they were in dire need of Lyne’s gifts. And while the conversation took place, Raerys found Olivia, blessedly asleep, having had a full belly and the warmth of her blanket lulling the infant into the land of dreams. She looked so peaceful, swaddled up and eyes closed that for a moment, Raerys froze. The air in her lungs gone in that instant, her heart in her throat and beating in her ears. “Livi…?” Raerys whispered, terror coloring what should have been relief with uncertainty. Bending down to scoop up the infant as she spoke, her unspoken fear melted away as a soft curl of lips resulted from the caress of the child’s name, uttered by her mother’s lips. She didn’t wake, but stretched and kicked lightly before nuzzling into Raerys’ arms. The breath Raerys didn’t know she’d stifled slid out, her shoulders suddenly sagging as that primal fear and tension slid out of her. She wanted very much to take Livi to her room, to sit in their rocking chair and fall asleep. Everything felt heavy, her limbs and lids, her heart and mind, but she could not. Ouro was dying. Gathering herself, Raerys tightened her grip on Olivia and joined Tris in the Living Room, wide eyed at the amount of blood that continued to seep from Ouro’s wounded body into her silken couch. “We need to um… bandages or something…” Panic returned, reedy and awful in her voice. “I’ve got a little something to tide him over until Lyne arrives.” Tris took charge now, like a switch had flicked inside her. A steady calm came over her as she made her way to the couch, in her hands a small vial of a healing draught the sort they passed out to soldiers. “It won’t heal him totally, but it will buy us time.” Kneeling beside Ouro, Tris tilted his head gently, then with her teeth pulled free the cork in the vial. She poured slowly, making sure not to choke him, letting the glowing red liquid flow over his tongue. He coughed once, both potion and blood spattering his lips, but then he swallowed and swallowed again as Tris emptied the vial into his mouth. Tris nodded as she leaned back, seeing the color rise once more to Ouro’s ashen-skinned face. “Alright, the first aid kit is where we agreed yes?” Raerys nodded, looking back over her shoulder toward the bathroom. “Uhhuh… should be just to the left on the top shelf.” She would muse later on the cool, almost cold detachment in Trisandrah’s manner, the methodical and calm surety of her actions. But not now. Shock had come to visit and burrowed itself into her bones. Tris went off, and when she returned she held some linen bandages which she quickly wrapped into a pressure bandage. Setting them on the couch arm, Tris leaned over the Gunman and tore open what remained of his shirt, exposing the ugly dark stab-wound in his gut. Raerys winced, her head shaking as she watched his vitae dribble from it and saw the ugly growing stain under his skin where blood pooled in his flesh. The chocolatier took the wad of linen padding and placed it over the wound, then wrapped Ouro’s midsection tightly with the tails of the bandage, lifting him easily and working carefully to make sure it was good and tight. “Might help, might not… I guess we’ll see.” Her voice was almost mechanical, devoid of true feeling and it lent a cold crispness to the air of the house. All Raerys could do was mutely nod her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. She felt useless, utterly powerless in the face of this. About Olivia’s little body she tightened her grip, lifting the sleeping infant to her cheeks and lips, where she could draw in that precious scent of life and love. “Daddy is going to be ok, Livi… he is, I… promise…”

[mamabearcat]

#47 for Inukag please 💖

Again, apologies for the length of time this took Nonny. It ended up being a little longer than I thought. I don’t love the ending, but... eh. Hope it’s okay!

47. “Dogs don’t wear clothes!” – Inukag

He came to just as the Ronin kicked into his ribs with his heavy wooden geta, not for the first time by the feel of it, and he couldn’t help coughing out the grunt of air in response. A dribble of warm blood ran down his chin. He was laying on his side, hands and feet tied, resting on what seemed to be a dirt floor… and what the fuck? Why was he naked? And where was Kagome?!

He’d must’ve blacked out for a while; the last thing he remembered was that bastard appearing out of nowhere near the edge of the village and clubbing him on the side of the head with the butt of his katana – he’d better not have hurt her! A muffled whimpering sound came from the corner, and he sighed in relief. She was still nearby, not locked away somewhere else where he couldn’t find her. That small sound nearly broke his heart, but at least it proved she was still alive. He tried to pull his knees towards his chest to cover his nakedness, and earned a hard kick to his shins for his efforts.  

“Why the modesty? Dogs don’t wear clothes!” the man sneered. “Not so tough now, are you? Just a pitiful excuse of a human, easily dealt with.”. He scuffed the front of his shoe on the dirt floor, as if to clean off something disgusting. “I will have to reward the yamabushi that gifted me those protection ofuda if I ever see him again – who would have known they had the power to strip a hanyou of his youkai?”

Inuyasha grunted, noticing for the first time the strip of paper stuck to his naked chest. The bastard’s damn ofuda had nothing to do with it. It was just bad luck that they’d been passing this village just before sunset on the night of the new moon. He and Kagome had been separated from the others by a landslide caused by the heavy summer rains, and had to make their journey back to the village by a longer route. His waning sense of smell and hearing meant he hadn’t realised they were being followed by this bastard, and they’d been ambushed.

He tried to open his eyes. One eye was swollen almost shut, but he could blearily see out of the other, and he did his best to glare up at the man standing over him. He couldn’t wait to wipe the smug smile of that fucker’s face come sunrise. He just had to hang on until then. He heard the man walking behind him, and strained his ears, trying to work out what the hell was going on. He heard Kagome whimpering again, and he gritted his teeth in anger.

“Don’t waste your time worrying about the dog, sweet thing” the Ronin crooned. “As we’ve already discussed, the local teahouse will have a place for you in their back rooms come morning. Judging by the style of clothing you’re wearing; you’ll be no stranger to the experience.” He heard a rip of fabric and a pained gasp from Kagome. “Just look at you! I’ll be sure to visit often, so you won’t be lonely.” Another pained gasp, and whimpering. “For now, you can stay here with what’s left of your dog – he won’t last much longer. Sweet dreams, princess.”

Inuyasha blinked, trying to focus. He watched the Ronin walk towards the door and close it behind him, taking the lantern with him, a smug grin still on his face. Come sunrise, that bastard was gonna pay.

He rolled onto his other side, choking back a groan as his ribs moved painfully, trying to work out where Kagome was. The room was dark, but he could see her in the small amount of light that was filtering in through the storm shutters. She was hunched over on her knees with her arms tied behind her back. Her shirt was torn open, and there seemed to be a dark bruise on her cheek.

“Kagome…” he whispered, his heart breaking at hearing her frightened whimpers. He would get her out of here if it was the last thing he ever did. She continued to whimper, but then shook her head, wiggling her eyebrows, then winking at him. What the fuck?

He watched, perplexed as she wiggled her arms, shuffling so her hands went under her bottom. She winced in pain, but kept wriggling them forward, then leaned and folded her legs, finally managing to get her hands past her feet and up in front of her. She wriggled her wrists, twisting and turning her hands, one ear tilted towards the door as she continued to make whimpering sounds.

Inuyasha blinked at her groggily. “What’re you…?” She shook her head frantically, making a quiet ‘shh’ noise. Finally with a wince, she managed to pull one hand free – her wrists were bruised and bleeding, but free of the rope. She tiptoed over to the door, listening for a few moments, then moved quietly over to him, and began working on the ropes tying his arms and feet. It took a while in the near total darkness away from the window, but she finally managed it. He groaned softly as the blood began rushing back into his numb feet as she freed them of the rope, and she rubbed them gently, trying to help his circulation.

“Do you think you’ll be able to walk?” she whispered anxiously. Inuyasha shrugged.

“I’ll give it fucking good try to get the hell outta here”, he grumbled quietly, impressed by her efforts to free herself from the rope. He turned his head away, not wanting to look at her bruised face and open shirt at the moment, guilt churning in his stomach. “How’d you learn how ta do that?”

“Survival books”, she whispered. “I wanted to know how to free myself if I ever got stuck somewhere without you. I played the ‘weak little girl’ card, hoping it would mean he wouldn’t tie the ropes as tightly, and it worked. Sucker!” She snickered a little. “I found out why he attacked us too. Apparently, he has a protection racket going in the towns in this area, and thought we might damage his source of income.” She moved away, and he heard her rummaging in the corner of the room, then he felt her pile his clothing next to him. He sat up slowly, his head thumping, and grunted his thanks as she averted her eyes to give him privacy while dressing, even though the room was almost pitch black.

He ripped the ofuda off his chest, crumpling it in disgust, then dragged his kosode and hakama on, a pained hiss escaping his teeth as the cloth touched various bruises. From the sound of it, Kagome seemed to be collecting the scattered items discarded by the Ronin after he’d ransacked her backpack for anything valuable.

He heard Kagome stamp her foot a little on the dirt floor. “Damn, he must have taken my bow and quiver. And I just spent all that time making those arrows too! At least he didn’t take Tessaiga. He said it was a useless sword – shows how much he knows, huh?” She moved towards him, and placed his sword into his hands. He shoved it into his belt gratefully.

“He didn’t get the jewel shards, did he?” he asked quickly.

“Nope.” He saw a faint flash of white teeth in the darkness as she grinned. “I managed to hide them inside my bra before he tied my hands.” He heard her shuffling around a bit more, it sounded like she was down on her hands and knees. “I was a bit worried he’d find them when he groped me though. I feel like I need to have a soak in the hottest hot spring ever, to get rid of the feel of his gross hands. Pervert! Aha!” He heard a slight rattle as she shook something. “I found my matches. Fire’s a good diversion, right?”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t cook us along with everyone else”, muttered Inuyasha gruffly, easing his suikan on with a pained grunt. Fuck his ribs hurt. Sunrise couldn’t come soon enough.

“Good point. Okay, let’s just concentrate on escaping then. Do you know how to open the storm shutters on the window?” she whispered, moving over towards the small window covered with slatted storm shutters. “We’re in a storeroom at the back of the inn. I could see the forest through the open shoji screens when he first brought us in here. There aren’t many buildings that I noticed on this side, so hopefully no one would see us if we climb out the window and run into the forest. We can find somewhere to hide until sunrise.

“And then I can come back and kill him?” asked Inuyasha hopefully, grinning for the first time since sunset. Kagome huffed.

“And then, we can go find the others, and see what needs to be done about putting an end to the protection racket he’s running. No more talking. Who knows when someone’s coming back? We need to hurry.”

Kagome tried sliding the wooden lock, but it was wedged tight. Obviously, this shutter wasn’t opened very often. Her hand slipped, banging into the edge of the window frame, and she bit back a yelp.

“You okay?” whispered Inuyasha.

“Yeah”, she grumbled, sucking on the knuckle of her forefinger. “I got a splinter. Stupid window.”

“Here, lemme try.” He staggered over to the window, and shoved the heel of his hand at the wooden latch. It had swelled a little in the weather, but with a bit of brute force, he managed to push it back. He slid the shutter sideways, pausing momentarily to listen as the old wood creaked, then pushed it into the cavity.

“You first”, he motioned to Kagome.

“But you’re more injured than me Inuyasha!” she protested.

“Then you can catch me when I land on my worthless human butt! Hurry it up wench, before someone notices the window’s open!” he hissed, giving her a little shove.

Grumbling, she grabbed what was left of her backpack, then landed with a small grunt in the bushes outside. Inuyasha was quick to follow, swallowing his moan of pain as he landed. He turned and pulled the shutter back into its closed position.

They staggered from tree to tree as quietly as possible, then managed to find a small fissure in a cliff face, not big enough to be called a cave, but just big enough for the two of them to squeeze into. Between them, they managed to stack some of the fallen rocks nearby in front of it to make it look like a natural landslide, mostly blocking the entrance.

“Do you think it’s long until dawn?” asked Kagome quietly, her voice sounding loud in the darkness. They were sitting side by side, knees up towards their chests, with Tessaiga balanced across both of them.

“Your guess is as good as mine at the moment – I don’t know how long I was out for.” He moved slightly to try and get more comfortable, then wished he hadn’t. He was pretty sure at least one of his ribs was broken.

Kagome sighed, then rested her head gently on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re mostly okay – I was so worried when he knocked you out.”

Inuyasha grunted. Stupid fucking human night. He was almost useless. “m’sorry Kagome”, he said softly.

“Why are you saying sorry! He’s the one that hit you from behind like a coward! You have nothing to be sorry for! I was worried because you were hurt!”

Inuyasha grunted again. A worrying thought suddenly occurred to him, one that he couldn’t let go.

“Kagome, he didn’t do anythin’… bad… while I was knocked out, did he?” Kagome sighed.

Inuyasha managed a very good approximation of his usual hanyou growl. “Did he?! Because if he did, there’s nothin’ that’s gonna stop me goin’ back in the morning and gutting that prick!”

“Shhhhh! Not so loud! We’re still hiding, remember?” she hissed. Kagome moved her hand around in the darkness until she found his. She stroked his fingers until he unclenched his fist to allow his fingers to intertwine with hers. “He roughed me up a bit, touched me a little inappropriately, but it’s okay, he didn’t do anything like you’re thinking. It’s alright”, she soothed.

“It’s not alright Kagome! None of this is. He hurt you!”

“You’re hurt too, more than I am”, she pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine as soon as the sun rises. You’re all banged up, and I couldn’t stop it. I hate this!”

“Inuyasha”, said Kagome softly, “you don’t kill humans, remember?”

“I’m willing to make an exception in his case!” he snarled. “He fuckin’ deserves it!”

A pale solitary sunbeam found its way through the piled rocks. Inuyasha shivered slightly as the change came over him, flooding him with strength, restoring his senses and easing away almost all the aches and pains from the abuse he’d suffered, and he let out a relieved sigh, his head thumping back against the rock behind him.

“Welcome back”, smiled Kagome. He sniffed, then snarled, realising her usual sweet scent was marred by the cloying smell of salt tears and blood. Now that he could see her in the light of day, his anger returned tenfold.

There was bright red mark in the shape of fingerprints above her barely covered breasts where that asshole had obviously groped her. His eyes travelled down to her dirty, scuffed and bruised knees that were beginning to scab over, and then back up to her bruised and rope burned wrists. There was a dark purpling bruise marring her pale cheek and underneath her eye which was a little swollen, and her lip was cut and bruised. She dropped her head, turning her injured face away to the side, her tongue licking at the cut in the corner of her mouth.

“Look at me!” he said fiercely. He let go of her hand to use his fingers to pull softly but insistently against her chin, turning her face towards him. She blinked rapidly, her eyes filling with tears as she sucked her swollen bottom lip into her mouth.

“Don’t”, he said softly. She looked upwards, trying to stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. Her lips wobbled, and she breathed in shakily.

“Please, don’t go back there. I just want to leave. Don’t go back!”

“Shhh”, he soothed, gently rubbing his thumb over her injured cheek, and wincing with her as she flinched in pain.

“Sorry for crying”, she huffed, sniffling back tears. “I know you don’t like it. Guess I am just a weak little girl, huh?”

“No.” He stroked her fringe out of her eyes, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “We got outta there because a you, Kagome. While I was just lyin’ there, passed out on the floor, you were payin’ attention, makin’ plans. You found out why he’d attacked us in the first place – that took some guts. I wouldn’ve known how to do that trick you did with the rope to get yourself untied. I’m so used to relyin’ on brute strength all the time; when I’m human I’m less than useless. You’re not some weak little girl – you never have been. Ya did good, Kagome!”

Kagome smiled through her tears, wincing a little as her swollen lip pulled. “That’s high praise coming from you, dog boy.”

“Sure is. You know me wench, I tell it like it is.”

She rolled her eyes at him, then sighed. “I’m still annoyed about my bow. And it took me ages to make all those arrows!”

Inuyasha grinned cheekily at her. “If ya want, I can just go back over there now an…”

“No!” She shut her eyes in pain after moving her bruised jaw a little too vehemently. ”Ow.”

“Fine”, Inuyasha growled. “But this is only postponed, right? That prick’s earned himself a date with my Tessaiga.” Before he could lose his nerve, and while Kagome had her eyes shut, he leaned forwards and placed a gentle kiss on her uninjured cheek. “Ain’t many people I’ll postpone a fight for Ka-go-me.”

Kagome’s eyes fluttered open in surprise. “Inuyasha?”

He kissed her forehead, and then her chin, smiling at her wide eyed expression. He paused for a moment, hesitating, then slowly leaned in to kiss her gently on the mouth. He couldn’t help his small sound of relief as she kissed him back as best she could, but he pulled back at her slight whimper of pain.

“Guess we can postpone that too huh?” he sighed, stroking her uninjured cheek. “Want me to find ya a hot spring to get all cleaned up before we find the others?”

“Yes please”, she whispered, her eyes shining at him. 

Turning in the cramped space, he kicked out the pile of stones, and stood up, stretching in the dawn sunlight. Kagome followed him out more slowly, whispering a lot of ‘ow’s’ as her bruised and battered knees straitened after being bent for a while. She tugged her backpack on and climbed on his back as he squatted down in front of her, draping her arms around his shoulders.

“Let’s go Inuyasha”, she whispered, and he nodded. He would make sure Kagome was okay first, see to her hurts, kiss away her bruises, but nothing was going to stop him coming back and dealing out some well-deserved justice.

[wlwoodnymph]

apocalypse diaries

a little account of living in oregon during the 2020 wildfires/COVID-19 pandemic. mostly under the read more :)

Monday, 9/7

This morning, the sky was blue. Hot, the sun harsh for September, but blue and clear. I went on a walk with my mom, threading through shaded forests, cresting the hilltop with a view of town, and passing by fields rimmed with sweet ripe blackberries on the bush. We saw lots of people -- a perfect late summer day in a perfect little town, where the grand brick buildings of campus and small downtown storefronts are ringed by rolling farmland, a smooth-flowing river, and forested hills that grow into sheltering mountains.

Of course, we walked six feet apart, and hid our noses and mouths behind masks whenever we passed others on the narrow trails. And almost everyone else did too, in a show of courtesy -- it felt perfectly normal. I am still occasionally taken aback when I shy away from others or try to trap my breath or hear an announcement beginning “To stop the spread of the virus...” while grocery shopping. But these things don’t surprise me as much as seeing a photograph of two people unmasked and nearly touching, or watching the neighbors have a birthday party, people and music spilling out of their kitchen and onto the balcony. The connection and celebration I had known my whole life, now completely foreign.

Despite it all, that morning felt perfectly normal. After discussing our birthdays, my classes, and my mom’s anxiety about going backpacking, I returned home and made vegetable soup, watched Prince of Tennis with my roommates, and practiced taking integrals. The afternoon passed quietly, doing calculus at the table, until I glimpsed a sliver of strange sky through the blinded window. I stepped onto the balcony and into another kind of apocalypse.

The most welcome thing about outside was the breeze, making the dry air just bearable after the hot day. The concrete was still warm under my feet, comforting. It seemed the wind had blown in smoke from some fire, far-away until now. The sun, setting and shrouded by the smoke, glowed red and foreboding. The rest of the air was tinted yellow, and if not for the sepia tones, it might have just looked foggy, everything smudged and faded. 

Notably, the smoke hadn’t stopped the games of beach volleyball in the park across the street. Quiet shouts and static-y pop music filled the air along with the wind, which rattled the trees’ dry leaves. Someone walked their dog by, pausing to take a picture of the sun. A car started and pulled out of our complex. A leaf scraped across the ground, and the smoke filled my nose.

I stood outside for longer than I needed to, somehow trapped by the warm concrete under my feet and soothing breeze on my arms. The smoke scent was light, and seemed innocuous until I thought about how far away the fires must be -- out in the Cascades, not the little hills that sheltered my town. The wind suddenly seemed a bit less friendly, carrying them closer. I thought about the emergency alert for high heat and winds earlier that day, and (among other things) the big signs along I-5 that discouraged travel during the pandemic, and slipped back inside.

Instead, I raised the blinds, to observe the progress of the red sun and the shrouding smoke and just-green trees buffeted by the wind. I did try to go outside again, to write, but the smoke was thicker, enough to make me cough. I thought about the virus, and watched bits of ash float past, and went back inside. It wasn’t worth the worry of giving myself a sore throat. 

So now I’m sitting in my kitchen, and watching it grow unnaturally dark as the clock passes 7:00. The sky is yellower, and the trees and volleyball players have faded, drifting into the thickening smoke. I looked up the air quality a bit ago -- unhealthy for people with sensitive lungs, which is better than I expected. It all feels very strange, but mundane. The volleyball continues even as the sky grows dark. Cottonwood seeds float by with the ash. And I am just watching from a quiet kitchen, with dishes that still need doing. I wonder how long the smoke might last -- I’d love to open my window tonight. 

This morning had felt so normal in comparison, even though the smoke is such a small thing in comparison to the shuttered schools and stores, the cancelled concerts, and the rules of six feet and masked faces. But still, I get up and do the dishes, move my laundry to the drier, and watch a movie with my sister (over Zoom, of course). I can hear the wind whistling outside, and the smoke scent begins to seep in even though all the windows are closed. I hope that I don’t wake up smelling smoke and that I can open my window soon. Wishful thinking, and I realize that I barely bother to wonder anymore when I might dare to touch someone I don’t already share air with.

Tuesday, 9/8

 I wake up a few times as night fades into morning, mostly from the growing light, but once from the shower starting on the other side of the wall -- my roommate has work at 8:30. My comforter is on the floor, my battery pack and earbuds are in the bed where I discarded them before going to sleep. I am almost too warm under just a sheet, but I curl back into it each time I wake. The whole sky is yellow-orange, as if the sunrise fills all the air, but it’s just smoke shrouding my surroundings. It is alien, this dusty neon sky, but I go back to sleep anyway.

When I get up, the downstairs is dark, one window covered and smoke filtering light out from the rest. It feels like evening, but I make an egg and toast and eat a beautiful nectarine, which reminds me of yesterday morning, a flawless piece of summer. It is hard to think of anything about this summer as flawless. I can see bits of ash flutter by the window, like snowflakes, and I long for last winter.

After breakfast, I water the balcony plants. The smoke scent is strong, sharper than yesterday, and the fires creep closer. There is ash layered in the pots, and on our table and chairs. My bare feet leave prints. I also mist the plants with water, to make the balcony air, dry from the wind, more bearable. Balcony life is ill-suited to most plants, and I wonder if they know where they are, if they know that the salvatory humidity on their leaves is man-made.

I finish as quickly as possible, and return inside, where the air is already too warm (the cool morning outside had been a relief), but clear and clean. I would like to drive to the stormy coast, to go swimming in the cold water of the nearby river, even to cool myself with a mist from the plants’ spray bottle, but I don’t. Instead, I wash my face and brush my teeth and get my calculus workbook and another cup of coffee. I open to the chapter on motion problems and watch a dog-walker drift by with the ash. There is no volleyball today, the air hazardous.

-

The first part of today passes like yesterday. I finish my calculus and eat yesterday’s soup for lunch. I call our internet provider to complain about our abysmal internet speeds. The call takes 30 minutes, and we get nowhere. She asks about the weather where I am, and I hold back a laugh. I glance out the window, as if to check that the smoke hasn’t up and left and say “Not too bad. We have some smoke blowing in from wildfires though.” I guess it’s not too bad -- I’m safe, at least.

Afterwards, I go up to my room to get something, and wince at the scent of smoke inside. My throat has started to catch, and my roommate’s eyes are watering. We decide to venture out to get sealing tape. It’s nice to do something, and for a moment, this feels like an adventure, a brave expedition into the unknown to protect us and ours. For one of the first times since March, I am present, letting the moment, the heavy smoke sink into my skin. I will remember, but who will I tell about these days? What will still be here, who might still be shocked by it when this is all over?

The feeling of adventure only lasts as long as the Home Depot parking lot, where the smoke chokes thick in my throat and the wind whips ash into our eyes. It is evening, and the sun must be sinking again, because the sky turns from dusty brown to red-orange, far too dark for a summer 6:00. It makes the grass a plastic shade of vibrant green and suddenly, I want nothing more than to be home, out of the smoke. The adventure is gone, and even when we return home, the sickly orange from the windows and bright ceiling light makes me feel melancholy, lonely and lost.

I’m not sure what to do with the feeling, but I know that I need to start taping our doors and windows. I go downstairs, where it is the worst, and as I run tape along the seams of the front door, I feel ash beneath my feet. The flames seem to lick at our walls, and for the first time, I wonder how far the winds will drive the fires. Where would we go, when the rest of the state is already fleeing to us? 

I think of March 11th, when my university announced they would go online for most of finals week and the first week of spring term. I remember how we watched other states, other colleges, shutter, and wondered when or if we might do that. I remember March 23rd, when the governor ordered us into our houses to stay, and how we planned grimly for a few weeks’ change. I wonder how long this will last.

Thankfully, we watch Prince of Tennis and read our dumb romance novel, and I forget for a bit -- it is nice to be stuck inside with these people, at least. As the evening winds down, we finish taping windows. We tell our other roommate, who is away, to come in through the garage when he gets home. It’s the only door we don’t tape, the double entrance acting like an airlock. I even carry the balcony plants inside, so we can seal it off. They are dry and ashy, but probably happier to be inside. Even coated in ash, the basil, sage, and tomato still smell like lovely and herby, and it makes me smile.

Wednesday-Friday, 9/9-9/11

    The next few days pass like this. We stay inside, and watch the shifts of the sky from orange to yellow to sepia, a strange fog settled over us. We monitor the smell of smoke in the house, how it changes from day-to-day and room-to-room. At least the smoke blocks the sun, and keeps it cool while we can’t open the windows.

    I am reading a Money Diary on Friday morning, and the author mentions how “shocking the images coming out of Portland are”. For a moment, I am amused -- Portland has some of the least smoke in Oregon right now. Then I realize she probably means the protests, or the detainment of protestors in unmarked federal vans.

    I thought it was a good thing, how little the smoke bothered me. I’m a natural resources major -- I know that forest fires are inevitable. Even though they are unusually bad right now, in part because of climate change, their existence does not alarm me. It is tragic that people are losing their homes, but that is almost inevitable, as long as we build in forests and let fuel grow thick and close to what we love.

    But even so, this has never happened before, and in some moments, it hits me. It is scary the fires have stretched so far, that they may continue to be this bad for many years, that we are so ill-equipped, that this happens as people go hungry and are evicted and die from this pandemic. As I typed the words “detainment of protestors in unmarked federal vans.” I wondered if I had become numb. I know this is bad, but it feels so distant, so unreal, so unavoidable. I am almost powerless, so what does it matter if I care? It’s easier to not feel anything, to fixate instead on the hundreds of tiny crises my mind makes of my body and life. I finish my coffee and do my math and try to ignore the pain throbbing in my elbow.

Saturday-Thursday, 9/12-9/17

    It was supposed to clear up on Friday. When it didn’t, Tuesday and even Wednesday looked better, the air quality “moderate”. However, it remains “unhealthy”, and I cancel my trips to The Arc and Goodwill, so I can at least meet my mom outside for her birthday. She is struggling with the smoke, but glad to get outside for a bit. Instead of the long hike we had planned, we sit six feet apart on a bench, and I feel like a monster for cringing away from her. The breeze on my skin, though, is a blessing, salvation after a week of the same stale, still air in our house. I want to open my window.

    There is rain coming, and wind, and maybe later this week the smoke will clear. We plan for my birthday, assuming that outside, the only safe place to meet our friends, will be safe itself. I imagine pulling all the tape off, and wonder if it will have to go back on. When will we feel safe enough to let the air in? Will I ever shake hands with a stranger again? Will I continue to recoil at the very thought of entering a store without a mask? It feels like being naked.

    The rain does come, in drizzles, on Thursday night. It comes with flashes of lightning and rolling purrs of thunder, soothing, while we make pretzels and fondue, and I feel joyous, unhindered for the first time in more than a week. When we finish our cooking, we go outside. It is still smoky, but muted, and the smell is mixed with the delightful scent of a long-needed rain. I grin and hop onto the curb as we walk to the park. We talk and I climb on the play structures (I dropped my bouldering class, even though I miss it fiercely) until the thunder roars too close, and we return inside. It feels like a gift, something I could pray for.

Friday, 9/18

    I’m listening to ASMR in bed (it’s after midnight, so technically Friday), and when I take my headphones off to go to sleep, I realize it is pouring. I briefly entertain the idea of going outside, but it doesn’t quite seem worth drying off after. Instead, I lay awake, listening to thunder and rain, and think about what could have been. I am still happy, finally given a good form of novelty.

    I wake up that morning and the sky is clear as can be. I grin. As soon as I eat breakfast, I grab my bike to go shopping -- the air quality is “moderate”. I take deep lungfuls, uncaring that the air is public. It smells so good, smoke-free and rain-filled. 

    The first rain of autumn always feels like a return home. I don’t like the dry grass and merciless heat, especially when I am stuck inside, watching. It feels so strange, to see the exact same yellow-brown leaves littering the ground, feel the same cool damp air on my skin, the same weak, soothing sun. So much has changed, but this is still the same. I think of my middle and high school soccer games, of watching my favorite YouTubers play Undertale with a cup of tea on stormy Saturday nights, of sitting next to my dad’s fireplace with our kittens, of doing homework while my mom’s partner watches football. The season reminds me of home, but I’m not sure that I feel comforted. 

    I know that I’ve changed, and so has the world. I desperately, desperately, want this place to still feel like home, and maybe it will tomorrow, maybe it will next fall. I also don’t want to think about next fall -- what will have happened by then? What will have happened in five years? I have my hopes, but they feel slim. I hope that I am home and safe, and that I can take a breath without fearing smoke or virus or tear gas. And I am lucky, in the grand scheme of things.

    At least I can breathe right now. I bike home from the Arc, and revel in cold rain dripping from my legs when I stop at Fred Meyer, where I get prints of my friends for our living room. At home, I pull off the tape and throw open the windows. Cold, fresh air rushes in, and it feels like life. The sound of pouring rain and thunder is refreshing, after so many days of static. Here, now, maybe not in five minutes, but now, I feel relieved, unweighted, even if just briefly. It will not be a long reprieve, but I am grateful nonetheless.

[star-captain]

Chapter 5: The Long Road

A job well done by fireflower117 and an anon for solving my cipher and discovering the hint! Enjoy the anguish! I think I’m going to do a few more of those, so keep an eye out for more clues left in my favorite cipher.

Red and Avon continue their journey, and while Red wishes Avon would talk to him, Ecto wishes the feeling of not being alone would go away. 

Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland​

Ecto belongs to @ectochoir​

It’s been a week of traveling. Red and Avon had followed the coastline until they could no longer, which is when they turned inwards. They always traveled westward. That’s the direction that Avon feels her home is, though she isn’t one hundred percent sure. They wandered forests, plains, and hills. 

Right now, the pair walk through tall spruce trees, watching the sun as it begins to disappear on the horizon. Red tries to strike up a conversation. “So...uh, what’s your house like? Your home?” 

Avon stays silent, like she always does. The silence draws out, and after a minute, Red sighs. No matter what they try to talk about, Avon never answers. Not unless it’s something pertinent to the journey. If Red asks about where they are, or how far they’ve walked, Avon will speak up. But anything else, any attempt to make conversation, to fill the silence is only met with a cold wall. It’s been a long week for Red. 

Avon knows that Red wants to chat, she hears all the questions from them. But she never answers beyond necessary knowledge. It’s safest that way, for Avon. She’s spent her whole life keeping to herself, this little journey isn’t going to change that. Dragons are solitary creatures, even though it seems kiplings are the opposite. 

They’re an odd traveling pair. In the mornings, Avon leaves to find food while Red packs up. Today, Red was delighted to see Avon had brought back sweet berries from the bushes all around. However, she noticed that Avon’s hands were covered in scratches from the plant. When Red offered to clean them, Avon only tucked her hands under her cloak and began to walk. 

Most of the day they wander, following the sun. Sometimes, while Red is resting her sore feet, Avon takes off into the sky to check their surroundings. Red doesn’t know how Avon can walk so much and not have aching muscles. He thought swimming would have prepared him for this, but Avon rarely slows her consistent pace. The walk is mostly silent, though sometimes Red will begin to hum to himself as he observes his surroundings. He’s never been to places like these before. Where trees grow so tall they could stick out of the ocean, or fields filled with flowers of every color and shape. He tries to strike up conversations, but is almost always shot down with silence. And every time, it hurts a little. Red wants to befriend the mysterious girl, but Avon doesn’t seem interested in being friends. She seems to care about Red’s wellbeing, but not enough to notice that the silence is killing him. That he just wants to be friends, just wants to talk and share stories. Of their homes, of their families, of their life. 

When the sun begins to set, that’s when the two stop. Avon finds a clearing large enough for them, one close to a source of water for Red. Red feels bad that her sea pickles haven’t come in handy. She never realized that they don’t glow out of the water. Avon starts up a fire while Red sets out her bedroll, though Avon always rests on the opposite side of the fire. Red’s noticed that Avon doesn’t sleep much. When she goes to bed, Avon is up- often watching the darkness. And when Red wakes, it’s the same. They share food, cooked fish caught nearby or meat that Avon has hunted. 

“We should stop here.” Avon announces, looking around. It’s a small cove near a river, flat enough for the two to make camp in. Avon makes it official by digging the prongs of her trident into the dirt. Claiming it like her weapon is a flag. 

“This river is so deep. Look at all the fish!” Red grins, peeking below the surface by dunking her head in. This evening is going to be good for her, she can get a swim in. Red always feels relaxed when she’s in the water. It feels like a mother’s arms, cradling her. Protecting her. 

Avon doesn’t answer Red's exclamation, already putting together the fire. They go through the same motions they’ve gone through every night for the past week. Fire, bedroll, dinner. Red takes some time to soak in the river, feeling her scales become healthy and hydrated in the cool water. She swims as deep as she can, and turns over so that she’s laying on the sand. Beyond the surface of the water, she can see the stars. Glittering, distant pinpricks of light. Red is usually too deep under to get a good look at them. They make patterns in the sky, patterns she starts to name as she watches them twinkle. 

A black shape soars across Red’s vision. It startles him at first, but after a second he remembers his traveling partner. Avon must be stretching her wings, or doing ‘patrols’ like she says she does. The fresh water starts to become chilled, the sun no longer warming it. That’s Red’s cue to return to the surface. Just as he suspects, the campsite is empty. Avon’s trident is still stuck in the ground, so she must not be far. She hardly ever lets that leave her sight. Red wonders how she came across it, if she lives in the End. Do they have drowned in the End? 

There’s a shuffle in the leaves behind Red. He turns just in time to witness Avon narrowly avoid hitting one tree, brush past another’s leaves...only to strike into a tall tree on the far side of the camp. The entire tree shutters, leaves falling at a much slower speed than Avon. She comes crashing to the forest floor, her arms still wrapped around her head to protect it from the crash. The mysterious protector rolls down the hill, wings askew and hair full of twigs. 

“I can’t be-leaf what I just saw.” Red giggles out, looming over Avon. She’s still dazed from her crash landing, but it doesn’t take long for her to recapture focus. And immediately, Red sees her pale face become as red as a salmon. 

“That...that was intentional.” Avon stutters out. 

Red’s giggles grow into full laughter as Avon stands up, plucking the twigs from her hair. Red isn’t trying to be mean, but the circumstance was just too much not to crack a laugh. “That was quite the hot landing, how’d you miss a tree that big?” 

“I saw it coming, I was coming in too hot and needed to make a fast landing.” Avon tugs her cloak back into place, dusting dirt from her wings. She stiffens her shoulders and tries breathing to stop the growing red across her face. 

“That was not a landing. That was a crashing.” Red’s doubled over with laughter. This is the first time he’s ever seen Avon not in that stoic, cryptic stature she always carries. She’s actually showing emotion- beyond anger. She’s stumbling over her words, embarrassed that Red saw what he just did.

“It was a rapid deceleration. Not falling.” Avon storms past Red, putting her hands over her cheeks to cover the color that betrays her. She didn’t want Red to see that- ever. Avon is a great flyer. But landings in the Overworld are tough. So many trees and mountains, sometimes she calculates things wrong and ends up hitting them. She’s done it a few times this trip, but luckily Red wasn’t around. This time she wasn’t so lucky. 

“You’re quite the clumsy person, Avon. First you knock yourself out in a shipwreck, and now you crash into a tree!” Red sobers up a bit, wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. “It’s okay, I’m just glad you aren’t hurt.” Red places a hand on Avon’s shoulder. As soon as Avon feels the pressure through her cloak, she raises her wings like curtains. Pushing his hand off of her. 

“I-I’m not clumsy. This is why I prefer the End.” Avon is thoroughly embarrassed. She never wanted anyone to know anything about her. To never let anyone see her as anything less than the protector she is. Nothing less than a dragonheart, and nothing more. She doesn’t want Red to see her as weak in any way. How could Avon possibly be a decent fighter if she can’t even evade a massive tree? She grabs her trident from the ground, keeping her face out of direct firelight as she sits down on the ground. She buffs out marks on her weapon, hoping that maybe if she can get rid of the blemishes on it she can get rid of the embarrassment as well. 

Red sits down on her bedroll, shaking her head. For once, Avon feels like a real person. Not the silent, static soldier she tries to portray. A real being, with layers and flaws and the ability to have emotion. While the crash was embarrassing for Avon, it only reinforced one thing in Red- that there is hope in Avon. She’s not immune to feeling. And it only encourages Red to keep picking away at the tough exterior. 

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

Ecto feels like she’s constantly being watched. Just over the dune, just beyond the horizon, just below her cacti monuments. It’s not husks, no. They don’t even have eyes to watch her. She feels like someone is drilling right through her back with their gaze. Someone who shouldn’t be in her desert. 

She’s started to make precautions. The door into her home, burrowed in the dunes, is now surrounded by cacti. She has to crawl over them to leave, but she’s used to the spines. She’s a master of plucking them out of her hands. Ecto has no weapons, but she’s been on the lookout since the feeling started. Hoping that a husk would be carrying it’s blade even through death, or a pyramid would have a weapon stashed away. But she’s been out of luck. All she has is her wits, her mind, and her cacti. 

Ecto is clever, she knows if something were to really happen, she’d make it through without a problem. She just hates this feeling of being watched, of some intruder in her home. There’s a village on the other side of the biome, but she never visits. There’s no need for her to. The villagers don’t bother her, and she doesn’t bother them. But they wouldn’t be the ones spying on her, not after all this time. 

This is something new. Every so often, Ecto catches a whiff of that awful scent again. What she smelled that day in the sandstorm. The melted sand footprints are still there, though they’re getting buried by the constant flow of sand. It’s most often near the swirling monument that Ecto feels like she’s being watched. It’s starting to drive her mad. Every evening, she hunts for husks that may have a weapon. She’s always carrying a cactus on her, separate from the cacti she snacks on.

 Tonight, Ecto brushes the sandy grime from her face after killing a horde of husks. The sensation is back as she wanders home. Boring deep into her, though she can never see who is always watching. At the mouth of her home, she suddenly turns around and shouts into the night. “Go away! If you’re looking for a fight then come get it!” 

She’s not backing down. Whoever this is, she’s going to fight for invading her desert and making her so uncomfortable. When she finally sees who it is, they’re going to wish they had brought better gear.

[theskyrimlibrary]

2920, Hearth Fire, v9

Hearth Fire Book Nine of 2920 The Last Year of the First Era

by Carlovac Townway

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

2 Hearth Fire, 2920 Gideon, Black Marsh

The empress Tavia lay across her bed, a hot late summer wind she could not feel banging the shutters of her cell to and fro against the iron bars. Her throat felt like it was on fire but still she sobbed, uncontrollably, wringing her last tapestry in her hands. Her wailing echoed throughout the hollow halls of Castle Giovese, stopping maids in their washing and guards in their conversation. One of her women came up the narrow stairs to see her mistress, but her chief guard Zuuk stood at the doorway and shook his head.

“She’s just heard that her son is dead,” he said quietly.

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

5 Hearth Fire, 2920 The Imperial City, Cyrodiil

“Your Imperial Majesty,” said the Potentate Versidue-Shaie through the door. “You can open the door. I assure you, you’re perfectly safe. No one wants to kill you.”

“Mara’s blood!” came the Emperor Reman III’s voice, muffled, hysterical, tinged with madness. “Someone assassinated the Prince, and he was holding my shield! They could have thought he was me!”

“You’re certainly correct, your Imperial Majesty,” replied the Potentate, expunging any mocking qualities from his voice while his black-slitted eyes rolled contemptuously. “And we must find and punish the evildoer responsible for your son’s death. But we cannot do it without you. You must be brave for your Empire.”

There was no reply.

“At the very least, come out and sign the order for Lady Rijja’s execution,” called the Potentate. “Let us dispose of the one traitor and assassin we know of.”

A brief pause, and then the sound of furniture scraping across the floor. Reman opened the door just a crack, but the Potentate could see his angry, fearful face, and the terrible mound of ripped tissue that used to be his right eye. Despite the best healers in the Empire, it was still a ghastly souvenir of the Lady Rijja’s work in Thurzo Fortress.

“Hand me the order,” the Emperor snarled. “I’ll sign it with pleasure.”

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

6 Hearth Fire, 2920 Gideon, Cyrodiil

The strange blue glow of the will o’ the wisps, a combination, so she’d be told, of swamp gas and spiritual energy, had always frightened Tavia as she looked out her window. Now it seemed strangely comforting. Beyond the bog lay the city of Gideon. It was funny, she thought, that she had never stepped foot in its streets, though she had watched it ever day for seventeen years.

“Can you think of anything I’ve forgotten?” she asked, turning to look back on the loyal Kothringi Zuuk.

“I know exactly what to do,” he said simply. He seemed to smile, but the Empress realized that it was only her own face reflected in his silvery skin. She was smiling, and she didn’t even realize it.

“Make certain you aren’t followed,” she warned. “I don’t want my husband to know where my gold’s been hiding all these years. And do take your share of it. You’ve been a good friend.”

The Empress Tavia stepped forward and dropped from sight into the mists. Zuuk replaced the bars on the tower window, and threw a blanket over some pillows on her bed. With any luck, they would not discover her body on the lawn until morning, at which time he hoped to be halfway to Morrowind.

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

9 Hearth Fire, 2920 Phrygias, High Rock

The strange trees on all sides resembled knobby piles crowned with great bursts of reds, yellows, and oranges, like insect mounds caught fire. The Wrothgarian mountains were fading into the misty afternoon. Turala marveled at the sight, so alien, so different from Morrowind, as she plodded the horse forward into an open pasture. Behind her, head nodding against his chest, Cassyr slept, cradling Bosriel. For a moment, Turala considered jumping the low painted fence that crossed the field, but she thought better of it. Let Cassyr sleep for a few more hours before giving him the reigns.

As the horse passed into the field, Turala saw the small green house on the next hill, half-hidden in forest. So picturesque was the image, she felt herself lull into a pleasant half-sleeping state. A blast of a horn brought her back to reality with a shuffer. Cassyr opened his eyes.

“Where are we?” he hissed.

“I don’t know,” Turala stammered, wide-eyed. “What is that sound?”

“Orcs,” he whispered. “A hunting party. Head for the thicket quickly.”

Turala trotted the horse into the small collection of trees. Cassyr handed her the child and dismounted. He began pulling their bags off next, throwing them into the bushes. A sound started then, a distant rumbling of footfall, growing louder and closer. Turala climbed off carefully and helped Cassyr unburden the horse. All the while, Bosriel watched open-eyed. Turala sometimes worried that her baby never cried. Now she was grateful for it. With the last of the luggage off, Cassyr slapped the horse’s rear, sending it galloping into the field. Taking Turala’s hand, he hunkered down in the bushes.

“With luck,” he murmured. “They’ll think she’s wild or belongs to the farm and won’t go looking for the rider.”

As he spoke, a horde of orcs surged into the field, blasting their horns. Turala had seen orcs before, but never in such abundance, never with such bestial confidence. Roaring with delight at the horse and its confused state, they hastened past the timber where Cassyr, Turala, and Bosriel hid. The wildflowers flew into the air at their stampede, powdering the air with seeds. Turala tried to hold back a sneeze, and thought she succeeded. One of the orcs heard something though, and brought another with him to investigate.

Cassyr quietly unsheathed his sword, mustering all the confidence he could. His skills, such as they were, were in spying, not combat, but he vowed to protect Turala as her babe for as long as he could. Perhaps he would slay these two, he reasoned, but not before they cried out and brought the rest of the horde.

Suddenly, something invisible swept through the bushes like a wind. The orcs flew backwards, falling dead on their backs. Turala turned and saw a wrinkled crone with bright red hair emerge from a nearby bush.

“I thought you were going to bring ‘em right to me,” she whispered, smiling. “Best come with me.”

The three followed the old woman through a deep crevasse of bramble bushes that ran through the field toward the house on the hill. As they emerged on the other side, the woman turned to look at the orcs feasting on the remains of the horse, a blood-soaked orgy to the beat of multiple horns.

“That horse yours?” she asked. When Cassyr nodded, she laughed loudly. “That’s rich meat, that is. Those monsters’ll have bellyaches and flatulence in the morning. Serves ‘em right.”

“Shouldn’t we keep moving?” whispered Turala, unnerved by the woman’s laughter.

“They won’t come up here,” she grinned, looking at Bosriel who smiled back. “They’re too afraid of us.”

Turala turned to Cassyr, who shook his head. “Witches. Am I correct in assuming that this is Old Barbyn’s Farm, the home of the Skeffington Coven?”

“You are, pet,” the old woman giggled girlishly, pleased to be so infamous. “I am Mynista Skeffington.”

“What did you do to those orcs?” asked Turala. “Back there in the thicket?”

“Spirit fist right side the head,” Mynista said, continuing the climb up the hill. Ahead of them was the farmhouse grounds, a well, a chicken coop, a pond, women of all ages doing chores, the laughter of children at play. The old woman turned and saw that Turala did not understand. “Don’t you have witches where you come from, child?”

“None that I know of,” she said.

“There are all sorts of wielders of magic in Tamriel,” she explained. “The Psijics study magic like its their painful duty. The battlemages in the army on the other end of the scale hurl spells like arrows. We witches commune and conjure and celebrate. To fell those orcs, I merely whispered to the spirits of the air, Amaro, Pina, Tallatha, the fingers of Kynareth, and the breath of the world, with whom I have an intimate acquaintance, to smack those bastards dead. You see, conjuration is not about might, or solving riddles, or agonizing over musty old scrolls. It’s about fostering relations. Being friendly, you might say.”

“Well, we certainly appreciate you being friendly with us,” said Cassyr.

“As well you might,” coughed Mynista. “Your kind destroyed the orc homeland two thousand years ago. Before that, they never came all the way up here and bothered us. Now let’s get you cleaned up and fed.”

With that, Mynista led them into the farm, and Turala met the family of the Skeffington Coven.

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

11 Hearth Fire, 2920 The Imperial City, Cyrodiil

Rijja had not even tried to sleep the night before, and she found the somber music played during her execution to have a soporific effect. It was as if she was willing herself to be unconscious before the ax stroke. Her eyes were bound so she could not see her formed lover, the Emperor, seated before her, glaring with his one good eye. She could not see the Potentate Versidue-Shaie, his coil neatly wrapped beneath him, a look of triumph in his golden face. She could feel, numbly, the executioner’s hand touch her back to steady her. She flinched like a dreamer trying to awake.

The first blow caught the back of her head and she screamed. The next hacked through her neck, and she was dead.

The Emperor turned to the Potentate wearily, “Now that’s done. You said she had a pretty sister in Hammerfell named Corda?”

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲

18 Hearth Fire, 2920 Dwynnen, High Rock

The horse the witches had sold him was not as good as his old one, Cassyr considered. Spirit worship and sacrifice and sisterhood might be all well and good for conjuring spirits, but it ends to spoil beasts of burden. Still, there was little to complain about. With the Dunmer woman and her child gone, he had made excellent time. Ahead were the walls surrounding the city of his homeland. Almost at once, he was set upon by his old friends and family. 

“How went the war?” cried his cousin, running to the road. “Is it true that Vivec signed a peace with the Prince, but the Emperor refuses to honor it?”

“That’s now how it was, was it?” asked a friend, joining them. “I heard that the Dunmer had the Prince murdered and then made up a story about a treaty, but there’s no evidence for it.”

“Isn’t there anything interesting happening here?” Cassyr laughed. “I really don’t have the least interest in discussing the war or Vivec.”

“You missed the procession of the Lady Corda, said his friend. “She came across the bay with full entourage and then east to the Imperial City.”

“But that’s nothing. What was Vivec like?” asked his cousin eagerly. “He supposed to be a living god.”

“If Sheogorath steps down and they need another God of Madness, he’ll do,” said Cassyr haughtily.

“And the women?” asked the lad, who had only seen Dunmer ladies on very rare occasions.

Cassyr merely smiled. Turala Skeffington flashed into his mind for an instant before fading away. She would be happy with the coven, and her child would be well cared for. But they were part of the past now, a place and a war he wanted to forget forever. Dismounting his horse, he walked it into the city, chatting of trivial gossip of life on the Iliac Bay.

✲•······················▃🖋️······················•✲