#Eastern Small-footed bat

[loveisinthebat]

Small, but powerful

[transgender-chiroptera]

Lady Long-ears the Northern long-eared bat and Twinkle Toes the Eastern small-footed bat, via

[chilirasbora]

Eastern small-footed bat | Myotis leibii

Our bat for today is the eastern small-footed bat, which occupies North America! From Quebec in Canada and down to Georgia and Arkansas in the US, they're one of the smaller bats that occupies their range, and just like other bats in the area, they're insectivores.

Their hibernation habits are also thought to keep them somewhat safe from white nose syndrome, a fungal infection. They hibernate in small groups up to 50 individuals or stay solitary during their relatively short hibernation period, meaning infection rates are lower than some other species. They can also withstand temperatures that sometimes dip below zero, as they've been observed hibernating in shallow mines and caves, as well as near cave entrances!

🦇 🦇

[valiantwarriorsquadroncomic]

MISSION 6

Within a classified meeting room inside the HARRIS, armed erasure unit guards surrounded the area as Andrew Norman reported to the secretary of defense and the C-USA president Melissa Dowell, and director of America’s intelligence agency, the ODS. “I’m thrilled that operation trifecta went along swimmingly” he said as a large, bat-like man in a large horned mask loomed next to him with a tiny thermos. “George smith and Sgt. Gustavo are as good as captured.”

“Excellent work, Mr.Norman.” Said Madame president. “We had some doubts that these special interests groups would cooperate, but it appears our fears were exaggerated. “You managed to arrange a coordination exercise that also doubled as a rescue of multiple POWS, needless to day, I’m very impressed.” Andrew saluted the president with a subtle smile.

“You honor me, Mrs. President.” He replied. “We shall commence a multi-pronged attack for both targets, QM’s spy network has damaged ALA intelligence, monitoring George smith’s every move.” He took another sip of tea from his thermos cup. “The HCA are destroying any airborne aircraft on sight, and even the FPU are providing support in regards to supply and resources.” A large map of prospera was projected within the meeting room. Several red dots blinked near prospera’s no-go zones. Giant red arrows blinked indicating movement, pointing to mainland south america while others simply stopped flashing. “Our intelligence agency and CNGS intelligence have detected multiple ALA bases being destroyed while large swathes of ALA members are fleeing to Argentina.” Andrew nodded as she brought up a middle aged German man with thinning hair. “The HCA defector responsible for the Berlin bombing has yet to flee to south America, HE is to be VWS-1’s next target.

“And what of my senior corps orders, madame president?” asked the mask man.

“BERSERKER, your team shall continue to apprehend WNM6 members and question them about the whereabouts of their main headquarters and leader. She answered. “Bring in high ranking members alive, but I have no concern how you deal with any ALA member that gets in your way.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Said BERSERKER, as he let out a low, menacing chuckle. The erasure unit soldiers surrounding him and Andrew began to sweat, those not in the usual mask peered at each other in fear. After dismissal, BERSERKER walked Andrew alone to his office.

“Quite a feat.” Said Andrew casually. “It’s hard to strike fear into erasure unit soldiers.” BERSERKER ducked behind a sign to ensure his 7 foot 10 frame wouldn’t smack into it. “Especially those two, who are refugees from Eastern Veledovia.”

“I’ve been informed about the veledovian conflict.” Said BERSERKER. “refugees from veledovia period are almost like spartans, hardened from being raised in abject poverty to mandatory army conscription at 18. He held open the door for his superior. “Even its government cabinet of both east and west have adamantly clung to independent status despite the inevitable submission to our union dedicated to global security to the rest of Europe.

“Many of my colleagues in the CNGS advisory council and the white house were very sore upon hearing President Juan’s decision to remain independent.” Andrew said in a neutral tone. “I don’t understand why, with the agreement with other independent countries for a balance of power, and east valadovia’s ally to global security status, we will be properly compensated in the near future.” Meanwhile in the small medical wing of the HARRIS, Joseph visited Logan after 10 days of his rescue, ducking under a broken directory sign.

“God damn, that thing’s been broken for weeks.” Joseph muttered to himself. “They have the cash to fix it, I don’t know why they just wont.” Joseph showed his badge to the guards, who noticed he had proper clearance and disinfection to enter the recovery room.

“Damn, they’re working your ass off, huh?” Said Logan, noticing Joseph’s tired expression.

“Yeah, they made us go through a boot camp so we’d be ready to snatch George smith from his bunker.” His fist clinched as George smith’s face flashed in his mind, but quickly returned to Logan. “Something weird happened to me.” Logan got quiet, as he was still trying absorb everything that happened. “I’ve been able to sense a person up to 65 meters now, and I’ve developed some sort of enhanced reflexes.” He said, remembering how he somehow outmaneuvered that ALPHA KOMMANDO member and was able to stab him in the neck. He tried to change the subject to hide the discomfort of the changes that made him feel less human. “You’ve really made a comeback since the last time I saw you.” Joseph said as Logan was doodling in a large sketchbook.

“That lion lady you talk about is a really fucking great doctor.” He said, showing a cartoon of Laleh to joseph. The cartoon depicted Laleh fully furred and walking on two legs, like something out of a cartoon. Logan had despited her accidentally bumping over a wooden chair with her hips, her face bright red as it fell. “She kept on apologizing to the head nurse, but this place feels like being crammed inside a little box.” He continued, showing another cartoon of him and fellow patients being shoved into a small cardboard box, the head doctor angrily jumping up and down on them. Joseph laughed upon the sight, and Laleh, while she was a bit embarrassed that her little table incident was immortalized, was overjoyed to see her friend in a joyful state. “Also, SO.AKROPOLIS was really thrilled that to see my art!” he said, showing several torn pages of his sketchbook.

“Let me guess, she took them?” joseph asked.

“She literally screamed with like an insane fangirl at a boyband concert and took all the drawings I made of her.” Laleh’s jaw dropped. “It scared the hell out of the guards.”

“She could’ve asked you first!” she with a snort, putting her hands on her hips. “I need to have a word with her, then!”

Logan held up his hands as joseph laughed at laleh’s reaction, but was also full of pride that at her becoming more assertive when someone or something upsets her. “It’s okay, really!” Logan said, reaching for his wallet, and pulling out a sizable bundle of cash. “She’s probably the best paying client I ever had!” the private room grew quiet as Logan noticed a look on Joseph’s face. “I know what you’re gonna ask me.” He said as Joseph’s expression severed.

“If it’s OK to ask, did…your mom know about your dad?” he asked. Logan put his sketchbook down.

“I think she probably knew, but didn't know what to do…” he replied quietly. "I mean...what the HELL was ANYONE supposed to do?" He sighed. "We both saw him get more weird about South Africa and stopped talking to his friends...he made me clean a bunch of guns we didn't even KNOW he had... Laleh's eyes widened in disbelief. "I think she was too scared to call the cops, and at least she was rescued from the ALA, thank god. He looked up to joseph again. “Those communist guys said that I have to wait a while to see her again. He drummed his delicate fingers on the hard back cover of the book. “I know she’ll be okay.” He finished with a hopeful, but sad smile.

“That’s what made me fall for you in high school.” Joseph said as he caressed Logan’s cheek. “The ability to see the bright side when things are fucked.” Laleh began to tear up, wiping her eyes.

“That’s just terrible.” She whimpered. “You’re so brave for dealing with all this with such stride. Logan shrugged sadly

“It’s not like collapsing to the floor and crying is gonna help my mom.” He replied giving laleh a box of tissues, joseph rubbing her hand to comfort her. Joseph’s gaze peered to Logan, his hands folded in front of him, staring into space with an empty smile. His scars pulsated rhythmically. The same vertical scars he and RM III had. It was apparent to him that what ever an “RM” was, he was one of them. “I heard they’re running your ass ragged at that bootcamp.”

“Yeah…” said joseph. “They’ve also got me wearing a new piece of armor. Joseph thought back to the first time he was brought to the bootcamp training room in prospera. “Their briefing room was just a dinky broom closet, and the CNGS special forces representative plopped the helmet in front of me.” He shuddered as he recalled the disturbing smile the Representative have. “Like, since RM II defected, it feels like they’re hoping I’ll be their replacement.” He recalled the face of the prosperan special forces operative who ran him like a dog with sniper drills and combat training. “They REALLY wanted to make sure that I was familiar with anti-material rifles.”

“Does the helmet look like mine?” Logan inquired, as laleh became silent. Joseph slowly came back from reality when he recalled the special forces operative taking a long drag from a cigarette as joseph sat exhausted parallel to him . He remembered the sad look on the operative’s scarred, wrinkled face he regaled joseph on horror stories from the prosperan civil war. He replayed the older man’s cynical, yet forlorn tone as he told joseph how it was prospera’s “proud tradition” to try and kill each other as shook himself out of his daze.

“It’s like yours…and it kind of looks like her.” He said, pointing his thumb back at her. A sudden BANG went off in the ceiling, causing joseph to instinctively flee toward the small table in the room and flip it over while Laleh thundered towards him and shielded her friend as if he was under attack. She desperately tried to search herself for a weapon as joseph pulled a combat knife from his vest. Logan’s eyes bulged as he saw the spectacle.

“Are…you guys fucking okay?”

Joseph and Laleh snapped out of their sudden trances. Laleh noticed she was foaming at the mouth and tried to wipe it off in a panic. Joseph also got a grip as he put his knife back into his vest.“Looks like everyone’s having a shit day.” Said Logan.

“It’s just been a little tough lately.” Joseph said. “I think all the horrific bullshit we’ve seen is catching up on us.”

“We should ask for another round of therapy before this mission, I feel that should assist in easing our troubled minds.” Laleh answered, attempting to smile and ease Joseph’s concerning glance at her manic state. Undoubtedly, he was being reminded of her breakdown on their very fist mission. “You’re understandably on edge because we’ll be confronting the man whose incompetence harmed you in a way he can’t take back.” Commented laleh, gently gesturing joseph. “I also assure you that I’m just a little tired, and to not be concerned about me.” Joseph nodded as the two made their way out. the flat screen TV down the hall flashed to a breaking bulletin, causing a hoard of CNGS personnel to flee to in in shock and horror. Joseph and laleh peeked around the hallway to understand the commotion. The TV swooped down to the FPU president, Il presidente Juan Hidalgo Ramirez fleeing and ducking behind a concrete barrier with several FPU soldiers as his podium was shot to pieces by sniper rifle fire. He was shoved into an APC which sped off with several other military and government vehicles. The crowds of prosperan citizens panicked and fled as FPU soldiers fired into the rooftops where several assassins fired back.

“Today at 11 am central time, president Juan Ramirez of the FPU was celebrating his country’s official independent nation status and the country’s military being mostly repaired after years of war.” Said and anchorwoman. “The ceremony ended with Independent Germany gifting an old destroyer to the prosperan navy. However, the celebration was cut short as an attempt was made on the president’s life.” The TV cut to several white men in balaclavas, reading off a piece of paper in English. “the American branch of the ALA, the largest and leading branch of the entire terrorist organization has claimed responsibility, as retaliation against attacks on their bases.” The room feel silent as joseph began to close the door. “What was supposed to be a celebration of the United Prosperan Federation pulling itself out of poverty and war was dashed to pieces.

Joseph felt his phone vibrate several times, and discovered fritz texted him 3 times in a row. He whipped out his phone as he tried to steady his nerves from his sudden PTSD episode. From the corner of his eye he saw laleh’s fearful gaze as he opened his messages.

“THE FPU’S MINSTER OF DEFENSE ALMOST GOT KILLED BY AMERICAN ALA OPERATIVES” “THOSE NEO NAZI BASTARDS LITERALLY JUST DROVE UP AND THREW A PIPE BOMB AT HIS VILLA” “FPU GOVERNMENT CABINET IS IN AN UPROAR.”

Joseph suddenly felt cold at the recent developments, as if something terrible was looming on the horizon. Not helping things was that tomorrow morning was the date that the VWS would attack the airfield and raid the George Smith’s shelter. Meanwhile in the Harris hanger, Veronica barked at a crew of her personal guard as they loaded an escape craft into the underbelly of the RISENFLEDERMAUS. She flipped through digitally generated 3d schematics as her aircraft’s engines were tweaked to accommodate the new weight, the face plate being freshly replaced. She chewed through her pen as sweat dripped from her brow. The extra engineers she hired barked at each other in farsi and English. Her brother scrolled through a news article about the prosperan government uproar, a Representative demanding that America take action against the ALA’s recruitment and troop dispersal as it was founded and staffed mostly by white Americans. Fritz approached his overwhelmed sister, noticing the chaos.

“Is everything OK?” he asked as she tightened a bolt on the escape vessel.

“NO, OF COURSE NOT!” She yelled. “DO I LOOK OK?” she continued, waving at the escape craft being finalized. “I’M LUCKY I EVEN GOT SOME EXTRA HELP WITH INDEPENDENT IRAQ AND INDEPENDENT AFGHANISTAN’S AERONAUTIC ENGINEER CORPS!” the mechanics occasionally watched over their shoulder at the giant monster woman as they finished their work. A worker dragged over a chair with some headache medicine and a cold towel to their boss. “Thanks, you are very sweet.” Said veronica, pulling out a business card. “Email this number so you can all properly get the overtime you deserve.” The engineers began cleanup, hurriedly rushing around fritz as he noticed the RISENFLEDERMAUS’s new addition.

“A second aircraft.” Fritz stated.

“No, it’s an escape vessel.”

“It looks too…polished and advanced to be some escape pod.”

“Don’t tell me you’re complaining about me caring about safety!” “I’m not.” Replied fritz, sitting next to her. “You’ve been testing and tweaking the RISENFLEDERMAUS for days with this thing attached, not to mention how you’ve run enough safety checks to get three separate certifications that it’s safe for field and combat use.” Veronica took a giant swig of water from her giant water bottle, a worker gently dabbing her head with the cold towel. “It’s about what happened to mom, correct?” He said, looking right through her. She shot up in surprise, frightening her worker.

“She almost got shot down, and told me it shook her so badly, she’s going to retire to politics.” The giant monster woman took the towel for herself. “Thank you Khalid, you’re an angel.” She said, pulling a large stack of money and shoving into his pocket. “Get your wife and mother-in-law something nice.” Veronica rose from the chair wearily. “FINISH YOUR WORK AND LEAVE IN AN HOUR, THE HCA ENGINEERS WILL FINISH THE REST, YOU’VE DONE ENOUGH FOR ME THIS PAST WEEK AND A HALF.” Fritz unwrapped a large chunk of dried and cured ham, a favorite treat of hers when she became stressed. She smiled sincerely at her brother’s kindness before eating the large piece of meat into two clean bites. The two continued to conversation in a private room. “Got another call from some of the old farts in the HCA court.” She said in a bored tone, pulling out a tablet, her work email filled with angry messages.” “YoU’RE NOt SUPPoseED tO pAY thEM EXTRA” she said in a mocking, crotchety tone. “THey’RE supposed TO wOrk PRO-boNO To PaY OFF HCA iNTERvenTION FoR StaBLIZing THieR cOUNTRIES” she snorted as she sent the messages to spam. “We’re supposed to support our fellow independent countries getting back on their feet after years of instability, not hold that over their heads until they die.” She logged off her email. “Worthless, old bastards.” She added.

“The ALA may be fleeing from prospera and taking their high command leaders with them” said fritz as Veronica began to finally cool down, but they’re certainly enraged that they’ve effectively lost the war.” Veronica held her head in her hand as she swiped through a tablet. “Ironically, the more violent they act and the more they flee to other countries, the more incentive other countries aid in the fight against them.” He swiped to several news websites. “CHILE JOINS CNGS AS ALA OPERATIVES FLEE TO SOUTH AMERICA” “ARGENTINA BECOMES ALLY TO GLOBAL SECURITY AS ALA ACTIVITY SKYROCKETS ON MAINLAND SOUTH AMERICA FROM THEIR EXODUS.” It’s like watching a chess player with a single pawn futilely move their final standing piece as they’re cornered into checkmate. Fritz said cheerily. “Damned if they fight, damned if they flee, they’ve effectively brought mortal enemies together.” Veronica’s left air flopped to one side, lost in thought. “Once smith and Gustavo are captured…HE’s going to be the next target. Her ears shot up again, as her eyes became blood red. “I’m speaking the truth, he had fled to prospera and had been hiding for some time after he…”

“…masterminded the Berlin massacre.” She hissed. “I wouldn’t doubt he’d just use prospera is a temporary stop to flee to Argentina.” Her eyes slowly faded to a light orange. “I just hope those ancient old farts hold our services to the VWS over the CNGS’s heads either.”

“I never expected you to say something positive about the coalition.” Inquired fritz.

“No, I don’t give a fuck about those power hungry busybodies.” She answered. “I do however give a shit of they try to run Nathan, joseph or laleh into the ground or treat them like busboys.” Veronica clicked off her tablet. “Speaking of nathan, he’s been a little more quiet than usual.”

“He’s probably busy.” Fritz assured her, as her eyes returned to their regular, putrid yellow color. “He’s probably also receiving the word that Schmidt is to be pursued and captured as soon as possible after we apprehend smith.”

“Of course!” she answered, once again in her confident tone, trying to pretend that she didn’t hear Nathan’s screaming and crying last night that chilled her to the bone. Fritz noticed her discomfort.

“There’s been this eerie sense of dread since mother almost died, and I’m here for you.” He clasped his hands and looked around cautiously, noting his sister’s compromised state. “Perhaps I should change the subject.” Fritz’s hands fell to his side as his mood seemed to drop. “From what our informants on the HARRIS said, apparently…he’s in a romantic relationship with that Logan fellow he rescued.” Fritz’s eyes faded from the usual piercing yellow to a pale white.

“That fucking sucks, I know you were hell bent on treating him right.” Said veronica, heavily, but empathetically thumping fritz on the back.

“I’ll at least let him know of my feelings once things calm down.” Fritz replied, thinking of the BIOMENACE ALICE statue kit he had bought and a bouquet of roses when he prepared to let confess his love. “I know I can’t be his, but at least I’ll put this beast to rest so I won’t stare forlorn at his beautiful visage from a distance.” Before he walked away, he fumbled through his bag. “Mother wanted you to have these.” The young man presented his sister a large box and a small container covered in CNGS warnings. She wants you to present them to joseph.” Veronica quietly observed the foreboding packages.

“This can only mean that shit is about to get drastic.” She replied. Throughout the Harris, more activity bustled as the day of reckoning for George smith arrived. He was now in a “bunker” which seemed more like a poorly kept prison. a series of blotted out faces were chattering amongst each other. APOTHECARY had been suspected of foul play during his actions of the Fort NFELHEIM Subterranean bio-weapons accident, which set back their RENAISSANCE MAN serum experiments. Am dist the chattering, the center figure, an old man with a blotted out face, held up his hand. The rest of the figures suddenly fell silent with an instant. “GEORGE SMITH.” Said the voice.

“I HAVE COME TO THE UNANIMOUS DECISION THAT YOU ARE NOT GUILTY OF SABOTAGE OR DELIBERATE INTERFERENCE TOWARDS THE PATH OF THE ARYAN PARADISE.” APOTHECARY let out a sight of relief as he slumped back into his chair. “HOWEVER, YOU LET INEXPERIENCED STAFF HANDLE CHEMICAL HZ-98R, CAUSING THE UNNEEDED DEATH OF 5 MEDICAL STAFF MEMBERS, FORCING NFELHEIM STAFF TO EXECUTE A PREMATURE EVACUATION, AND LEAVING LARGE TRACES OF PERSONAL INFORMATION AND MATERIALS TO BE SNATCHED UP BY THAT BLASTED COALITION, INCLUDING RENAISSANCE MAN 4.” APOTHECARY froze up again. “YOUR PUNISHMENT IS DEMOTION TO COMMON MEDICAL STAFF, AND THE LOSS OF YOUR ALPHA KOMMANDO POSITION AND PRESTIGE.” A bombing run caused the monitors to flicker. “ONCE YOU ARE EVACUATED, THESE PUNISHMENTS WILL BE IMPLEMENTED POST HASTE. Gustavo’s video feed flickered as his safehouse was also getting strafed by bombing runs from the HCA and their advanced jets.

“You’re also working to get me OUT of this hellhole, my New Fuhrer?” he asked meekly. The older man paused for just a moment.

“HOLD OUT AGAINST THE ENEMY, AND WE WILL SEND SOMEONE TO GET YOU, AWAIT FURTHER ORDERS.” The old man turned to the other blotted out members. “OUR NEXT SUBJECT OF DEBATE SHALL BE OUR UPCOMING RAID ON CNGS FACILITIES FOR MATERIALS NEEDED FOR OUR ABOMINATION PROGRAM.” “WNM6 SHALL BE THE HERALDS OF THE ARYAN PARADISE.” The entire monitor flickered off as more jets flew above the bunker.

“A raid on the coalition.” Sneered APOTHECARY. “With those white sovereign lunatics in high command gaining more influence, I won’t be surprised they’d approve of something so needlessly stupid and costly.” He clenched his fists. “Mark my words, those blood thirsty MANIACS will be the death of this organization.” Within his barely disguised prison, APOTHECARY watched the footage of joseph encouraging Logan to keep fighting and to keep living. He looked back at his schematics for his abominations, the ALA sympathizers volunteering to be irreversibly changed to monstrosities to fight for the aryan paradise. He held his head in his hands as the weight of his misdeeds, and the courage and humanity joseph exhibited despite being a subhuman, racial untermensch in his eyes.

An alarm bellowed throughout the bunker as ALA communication experts had picked up the RISENFLEDERMAUS, and an unidentified aircraft with a large red star. The radio chatter picked up from central command showed the ALA soldiers and the other American auxiliaries panicking. Screams that “The Red scar and his pet lioness demon” were going to claim their souls. APOTHECARY adjusted his mask, and loaded his handgun as the VWS and E-12 touched down, HCA jets were surely destroying their own aircraft and providing cover fire. He was finally ready. Ready to surrender to the coalition, and he prepared himself move quickly. declaring surrender with being surrounded by ALA staff would mean certain death. Now he had to face the more deadly of the Renaissance men besides RM III. He had nowhere left to run, except to the very man whose life he had irreversibly harmed…

Upon the RISENFLEDERMAUS, Veronica swooped down to the least defended part of the airfield’s outskirts, joseph didn’t know whether to feel excited or disgusted. A mess of conflicting emotions swirled within him as he prepared to meet the man robbed him of normality forever. “I bet you’re excited to get your vengeance!” veronica called cheerily from the cockpit.” Joseph twiddled his thumbs as he gazed into the air.

“ I’m glad to put a stop to him before he hurts more people, but this is about justice.”

“You don’t have to be so high and mighty about this!” veronica called, preparing to land. “He’s gutter slime and doesn’t deserve any sort of mercy!” Nathan could detect an argument coming up.

“Oh, boy” Nathan muttered to himself.

“This isn’t my problem.” Fritz thought to himself, flipping through a new philosophy book, trying to be not annoyed. “God, I wish to desperately to just tell her off on these rants, but it simply isn’t my fight.”

“ You’re right in that he’s irredeemable.” Joseph replied. “Frankly if he dropped dead in front of me, if the ENTIRE ALA dropped dead in front of me, I wouldn’t give two shits.” Laleh grew uncomfortable at Joseph’s repressed bloodlust. “But I want to do things the right way, to get him as soon as possible, and get him shoved in a miserable little cell until he dies.”

“Frankly, I’d just blow his head off.” Veronica said. “If I confronted a man who took the lives of people I cared about, I’d probably put his head on a pike or sit him in front of a firing squad.” She let loose a disquieting, subdued cackle. “You should see the faces of the war criminals that CNGS hands to us, their reaction to THE WALL is the funniest shit ever.”

“That’s pretty fucking excessive.” Joseph sat up, annoyed. Before continuing he, peered into laleh’s worried gaze behind her helmet. He sighed and sat back down. “That’s just my opinion, and that’s all I have to say in the matter.”

Nathan shot a look at veronica, in which she also stood down. “OK, let’s drop this spat then.” Nathan smiled at her, giving her a thumbs up, internally sighing in relief that things ended before they got ugly. Joseph clutched his head, and his scars flared. “WATCH OUT!” he screamed, causing Veronica to sit back in her chair.

“Relax, I know its your wacky psychic powers going off, but we’re perfectly fine.” A small alarm blared as veronica continued to remain calm. “This thing can take whatever dinky little rocket the ALA throws at us.” The small alarm suddenly exploded into a blaring scream as the inside of the cockpit flashed red. “Oh, Jesus.” She wheezed. “HANG ON TO SOMETHING.!” she screamed, violently turning the vessel as a giant, black missile flew past her, only for it swing back around. “HEAT SEEKER!” she barked. “SON OF A BITCH!” she activated the RISENFLEDERMAUS’s automated machine guns, latching onto the missile, and destroying it. No sooner was it destroyed, another one was fired at her, followed by two more. “IT’S GONNA GET HAIRY!” she called out, as oxygen masks dropped to the passengers. Unfortunately, an engine burst into flame as a missile hit successfully, causing veronica to make an emergency landing. The automated system sprayed powerful extinguishing chemicals, thankfully stopping the inferno from spreading. She tried to regain control of the atmosphere of the RISENFLEDERAMUS, as everyone was terrified. “N-no problem!” she said, though nobody seemed convinced as she landed the jet. “I-I’m not scared, I’m j-just a little rattled!” she said, her hands trembling. This was the first time the RISENFLEDERMAUS sustained significant damage, with everyone in state of shock. Veronica sweat underneath her helmet, recalling her mother’s nightmarish near death as her own jet had caught fire. Nobody was receptive to the desperate attempt to make light of a desperate situation. The gang hobbled out of the downed aircraft, fritz puking out of stress and horror as laleh addressed any minor wounds. She sighed with relief as she checked joseph last.

“Nothing fractured or broken.” She said as she put a small bandage around Joseph’s wrist. “Physically, everyone else is OK.”

“Thank god.” Said joseph, rubbing his bandaged wrist.”

“However…” laleh said, looking back at veronica, impatiently pacing as nathan relayed their situation to a local QM field commander. “In regards to a psychological health…some of us are in need of more attention and care than others.”

“I’m trying to reach them as soon as possible, second lieutenant Gaertner.” He said gravely. “Fritz, scout the perimeter around the jet.” Fritz saluted as he dashed off again with super human speed.

“I-I could start repairs!” Veronica tried to explain. “I’m sure I could find some scrap to patch up the eng-”

Nathan put up his hand, causing her to shut up immediately. Joseph worriedly side-eyed the grim nature of two best friends in a rocky development. Nonetheless, he tried to sense any danger from anyone he psychically dowsed. “It would take too long, George smith is bound to be on some sort of escape vehicle soon, Nathan replied, the sweat on his brow betraying his level-headedness. “OK, understood.” “Thanks, meet up with you soon.” Nathan clicked off his ear-piece. “We’re gonna meet up with some E-12 soldiers to the east near the airfield, they got someone coming by to guard the RISENFLEDERMAUS.” He announced as Fritz returned, panting and taking a rest. “2nd lieutenant, make sure you don’t over-tire yourself, we can’t afford to have you weak in the middle of uncharted enemy territory.”

“Of course, Kapitän.” Fritz replied taking a large swig of water from his canteen.” Nothing unusual yet. No sooner than he said that, joseph clutched his head in pain.

“Oh fuck, what now?” Nathan griped loading his handgun.

“THE SCARRED BEAST SLITHERS TOWARDS US.” He whispered ominously. Laleh picked up on the term.

“That… terrible blond man from our mission when we rescued GHOST FANG…” she said, fearfully aiming her grenade launcher into the forest.

“Just keep us posted on his whereabouts, buddy.” Said nathan, putting his hand on Joseph’s shoulder. “We got to drag smith out of his burrow and bring him to justice.” Joseph shook out of his trance and nodded, training his gun in a certain direction as the gang made their way east. Nathan could see that they didn’t need a map to the airfield as HCA jets pummeled the airfield with napalm, large flashes of light signaled the decimation.

“I know you’re upset about the RISENFLEDERMAUS being in a sorry state.” Fritz said, trying to comfort his older sister. “You’ve put much love and craftsmanship into it, it must be terrible that you-” Veronica whipped around in subdued fury.

“Don’t treat me like that sniveling, weak little girl who used to cry at the drop of a hat.” She hissed at Fritz. “I’m just rattled that those MARXISTS will scuff up my masterpiece with their grubby hands.” She marched faster to get ahead of her brother, who continued to have his submachine gun primed and ready, its laser sight sweeping the darkness. That is, until his infrared scope picked up a humanoid form. Joseph’s scars flared as he dashed by fritz’s side. A familiar shaped stepped out of the foliage.

“Hell of a welcome party.” Said RM III, circling the VWS like a vulture to a dying animal. “You guys look pretty scared about something.” He said, tenting his fingers. “Did one of your fellow freaks die or something?”

Veronica lost her temper as she grabbed him by the throat, pinning him against a tree. She unsheathed her combat knife. “I’m not in the mood for your childish games!” She growled, pointing the knife inches away from his ribcage.”

“The combat armor’s new!” he said, peering back at fritz. “I know you call him childish, but you guys are bit too old to be playing dress-up?” I chuckled in Veronica’s face. “You HCA pricks always won’t shut up about knighthood, even though you’re a bunch of backwards, role-playing losers.” He turned to joseph. “Oh cute, they’re trying to strong-arm you into being their replacement Renaissance man.”

“Stand down, 1st lieutenant.” Nathan ordered, slowly approaching RM III, his hand gun trained on the blond soldier’s head. All of a sudden, joseph could sense danger from the trees, but not before RM III drew a handgun and shot the mysterious assailant on the head. The body of a poltergeist commando dropped from the canopy. The VWS stared at the abomination before immediately looking back at RM III.

“You’re welcome.” He said, putting up his handgun in a waist holster.

“What’s your game?” Nathan demanded, his gun still trained on RM III’s head.

“I’ve been separated from that miserable old fart, and I even I know wondering around this place alone is a death sentence.” His smug smile dropped as he grabbed his shoulder, a dark red stain formed under it. “Can’t believe that prick made me ambush that patrol alone.” He murmured mentally. “I swear that asshole is going to me killed one day.” Joseph noticed the wound on his shoulder and a bruise on RM III’s neck.

“Did RM II do that to you?” he asked, prompting RM III to pull his hand from the wound, and pull up his jacket.

“Don’t you have some have some prick to abduct?” he shot back. Everyone look toward nathan what to do. Time was of the essence, and smith could escape.

“If I wanted to kill you guys, you’d be worm food by now.” Said RM III, smugly turning towards The captain. “If you shove me into cuffs or sedate me until I’m a drooling zombie, that’s one less capable soldier.” A bead of sweat dripped of Nathan’s face. “You’re in a hostile place, coalition dog.” “You need all the capable soldiers you can to make a break to your allies.” Nathan refused to break sight from RM III or lower his weapon.

“Drop him and let’s go.” He instructed veronica.

“Is that wise, captain?” said fritz.

“If he tries anything, break his legs.” He replied. “Or shoot his kneecaps, whatever stops him from scampering off.”

“As you wish, captain.” Fritz answered. Veronica threw RM III to the ground, as they dashed towards the rendezvous point. RM III lagged behind, his body reeling from being tossed like a ragdoll. It wasn’t long until the VWS encountered heavy abominations, supplementing the ALA soldiers and their mercenary forces. Flashbangs went off as fritz gunned down hoards of neo nazis commandos, making sure to pace himself to avoid collapsing from exhaustion. Joseph used his danger sensing premonitions to snipe into the canopy as more poltergeist commandos dropped like flies. Joseph suddenly sensed danger, using his agility to leap from a heavy abomination that was lying in wait from foliage. Before he had a chance to kill him, RM III cut through several soldiers with his bayoneted assault rifle, leaping with superhuman agility of his own to drive the bayonet into the abomination’s skull. The abomination tried to pull the bayonet out in vain, only to fall backwards onto the trench. An audience of ALA mercenaries, demoralized from a lack of provisions and proper support watched in horror as RM III took out a large, bizarre looking knife. He began to decapitate the abomination, still clinging to life despite its grievous wound. It tried to let out a final scream as RM III finally sliced that last bit of muscle and tendon. Laleh was aghast as joseph ignored the vicious super soldier to concentrate fire on more marksmen. RM III gripped the decapitated head in his hand.

“I hope my techniques have left an impression on you.” He said proudly as joseph reloaded.

“Yeah, the impression that you need some goddamn help.” Veronica leapt on top of the trench, letting loose a barrage of heavy machine gun fire, signaling to joseph and nathan to stay back for their safety. Some of the ALA soldiers, were from the European chapter, some became frozen in their tracks at the sight of the giant bat woman.

“IT’S THE IRON EMPRESS!” a solder screamed in a thick German accent. “WE’RE ALL FUCKED, RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!” only the abomination soldiers were left to fight the VWS.

“FIELD COMMANDER, THE BULK OF OUR FORCE HAS FLED!” Yelled the heavy abomination commander.

“You are to stay and fight as well.” Answered their leader.

“WE DON’T HAVE SUFFICIENT NUMBERS TO FIGHT BACK!” he insisted, as the gunfire drew closer. “WE’RE STRETCHED TOO THIN!”

“You orders are to prevent the CNGS dogs from reaching their allies, you are to be the backbone of the ALA.”

“THE BAT ABOMINATIONS AND LION ABOMINATIONS ARE BREAKING THROUGH THE LINES!” “WE NEED BACK UP N-” the heavy abomination was cut off as one of Veronica’s bullets made contact with his head, splattering skull and brains onto other abominations.

“THE ENEMY ABOMINATIONS HAVE BROKEN THROUGH!” garbled a poltergeist commando, as he futilely fired upon laleh as RM III and joseph used her as mobile cover. Joseph was honestly a bit shocked that his best friends and the other animalistic super soldiers were abominations.

“So, have you finally figured out you’re basically the fourth Renaissance man?” sneered the blond super soldier.

“Oh, that’s what that meant.” Joseph said. “I suppose that makes sense.” RM III became annoyed at Joseph’s lack of shock. “The Renaissance man program was a super soldier program created by the coalition to cut down on specialized labor costs.” He said smugly sniping another poltergeist commando. "They wanted a soldier that could pull off multiple roles at once, and subjected them to a nightmarish training regiment to boot." "Plenty of guys died to perfect it.” Nathan was furious as he was going to let joseph know about the program in coalition guidelines. Laleh thundered in front of joseph, allowing her friend the safety as he reloaded once again. Joseph tuned the vicious soldier out as he continued his marksmen duties, saving fritz from an enemy sniper as he killed a poltergeist commando from stabbing his sister. RM III grabbed him, getting in his face. “You didn’t listen to a fucking word I said.” He barked, his face turning slightly red.

“I’m sure the CNGS has shit it’s keeping quiet about.” Joseph said, “I’m know I’m probably an “RM” thing or whatever, but I also know you could be full of shit.” Laleh grabbed RM III, and slammed him into the ground once again, ferociously growling.

“DO NOT TRY THAT AGAIN.” She sneered. “YOU WILL REGRET IT.” RM III scrambled to get back up, assisting in breaking through the lines as the VWS took cover using an overturned vehicle shell.

“Hey man, I just want to tell you the truth.” He said as joseph reloaded. “The CNGS lies to your face on a regular basis, anything to maintain their burgeoning neoliberal empire.” Joseph proceeded to ignore him, casing RM III to get even more exacerbated. “You’re better off with me and the old man, we’ll fight for our survival, not some stupid organization of hypocritical, bleeding hearts.” “The CNGS won’t ever let the choke chain off you, since you basically became a Renaissance man from stolen CNGS bio-slop that went airborne.” This finally got Joseph’s attention, as he shot back at RM III with a vicious stare. “Just dump the self-righteous losers who are trying to save a crappy world full of stupid, useless people.” “At least you get to retire and put your feet up and enjoy the fireworks as the unwashed masses kill each other.”

“I’ve had enough of your shitty, selfish attitude.” Joseph spat back. “The world’s in a bad place right now, even without the ALA.” As the gang drew closer to their goal, the ALA were suddenly sideswiped by QM soldiers. “I know damn well that putting George smith in prison won’t magically make the world a better place, and I know damn well that even when the ALA collapses that Nazis won’t disappear.” RM III was actually caught off guard by Joseph’s rough tone. “That doesn’t mean I’m not going to try to stop terrible people from doing terrible things.” A large green APC smashed through the underbrush, and cut down the abominations, forcing them back. “My life will never be the same again, and putting away smith won’t bring my friends back or reunite me with my parents.” RM III feigned annoyance, trying to conceal the pain of rejection. “At least I’m in a position to help others, and I can at least try to make the CNGS less conniving.” RM III was completely silent as no one had ever brought up the futility of his viciousness. “I’ll never join you, and I pray to god you get it through your skull that we have NOTHING in common.”Joseph’s scars flared again and proceeded to shoot into an unassuming pile of ALA corpses. RM III was simply speechless at this evisceration of his self-centered, social Darwinist lifestyle, but soon shook out of it when several bodies slid of a figure emerging from the corpses. It appeared to be another ALA abomination, but donned in a white mask, 3 vertical eye-holes on each side. The abomination wore large headphones with a single radio antennae on the right side. In the dead center of the mask, a large proboscis unfolded itself, its base resembling the remains of a human tongue. Blood poured from the bullet wound, staining the mask a dark red. RM III cracked a wicked grin as he dashed off to the dying monstrosity, digging his bayonet into its neck.

“Finally found that freak he kept bitching about!” RM III said, slicing through its neck muscles. “Thanks for clearing my path, idiots!” he sneered, tossing a flash grenade, causing the VWS to dive for cover. “You’re a fucking idiot for caring about a world that doesn’t care about you, hope it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass!” RM III yelled to joseph as the super soldier disappeared into the jungle. “ITS NOT MY FAULT IF YOU DIE FOR SOME SHITTY, POWER-TRIPPING POLITICIANS AND THE SLACK-JAWED, UNCARING MASSES!” “I GAVE YOU A WAY OUT!” Despite his boasting, he winced at the bruise he received from a beating from RM II. A bizarre feeling rose in his chest as he saw the VWS fought to protect one another in the heat of battle. “Idiots.” He grumbled as the readjusted the refrigerated backpack filled with stolen abomination limbs and organs. “Relying on other people is a the saddest thing a person can do.” Joseph could sense RM III vanishing as the green APC opened up, revealing a muscular monster woman with a fleshy crest on her face, and large pincers that unfolded from her mouth.

“VEE!” she called out in a husky voice, waving at veronica. “MOVE YOUR ASS!”

“MAXILLA!” she answered cheerfully, rushing towards the muscular monster woman, and wrapping her in a hug.

“Save it for the after party, vee.” Said maxilla, gently pulling veronica off of her, cheerfully nudging the bat woman with her fist. “You guys got a prick haul off.” Before the VWS piled into the APC, several attack helicopter sped by. Joseph squinted at the copter’s insignia. Painted on it side was the words “FAFPU” as it sped off to the airfield. Moments later, Joseph and laleh leaned back, sighing with relief in the plush seats of the APC. Veronica began pestering nathan about the whereabouts of her jet, only for her to hush her as he got into contact with the senior officers. Fritz stared sadly and forlorn at joseph beneath his mask, as he pulled out a small diary to write in.

“This is the captain of VWS-1, we have successfully joined with the QM escort and on our way to the airfield, do you copy?” a voice crackled back.

“This is MacMillan.” Their special forces coordinator answered. “Good to hear, the senior coordinator would have my ass on a silver plate if you freaks wound up dead.” Nathan let out a chuckle at his ex-Co’s insensitivity.

“Any word from senior coordinator? He asked, as Veronica tapped her foot in the floor impatiently. “I just wanna check in to see of the senior officer corps’s mission to get Sgt. Gustavo is going well.”

“Extremely well.” MacMillan said, turning towards his senior counterpart. The large, masked bat-like man quietly observed a live video feed of the senior officers. Sgt. Nguyen knocked down helicopters with her short ranged, but devastating laser weapon built into her cybernetic arm. Equinox, the Japanese man and her 2nd in command, swiftly killed anyone with his handgun and combat knife that attempted to fire upon AKROPOLIS. GHOST FANG, recovered from his near fatal brush with RM II, took out poltergeist commandos with ferocity and agility. The large badger woman destroyed several bridges and protective fort walls, blasting hole into an underground tunnel that would lead to Gustavo. Finally, Charlotte descended from the sky, using several parachutes and her combat robot’s jet engine to slow her descent. However, she fell to earth at a noticeable speed, as if she purposely wanted to collide into the enemy base. The ALA soldiers screamed as the enormous hunk of metal acted as an improvised bomb, and were sent broken and flying as the monster woman made contact. The giant metallic beast was coated in blood, which only caused even more panic amongst the ALA. MacMillan looked away as Charlotte slowly removed an enormous assault rifle from a compartment, and blew away enemy armor and abominations. Body parts, blood, and organs splattered across the facility. “A bit too well, if you ask me.” He murmured in a concerned to Nathan.

“It’s shit like this that makes me glad we’re not fighting with the Coalition anymore.” MAXILLA said cracking her knuckles. “Some of our guys complain about being your allies, but it beats being labeled as a terrorist organization and threat to global security.” She rubbed a scar on her hand. “Don’t miss those days at all.”

“By the way, your 1st lieutenant’s little toy has been escorted into a QM safe-house, I know she’s probably pissing you off about that.” Nathan gave veronica thumbs up, and she soon fell back in her chair in relief.

“Alrighty, keep us posted, we should be arriving at the airfield soon.” He concluded, ending the communication. Joseph began to sense George Smith’s presence as they passed through a QM checkpoint.

“Hey uh…sorry for fighting with you before we crashed.” Veronica said. “He’s the person who hurt you and killed your friends, so while PERSONALLY I’d rather see him shot…you do you.” Despite being disturbed by her bloodlust, Joseph accepted his comrade’s attempt at an apology.

“I get it.” Joseph said. “Sounds like you’re also got a person to confront who did terrible things.” Veronica looked back at her friend Maxilla, who simply tugged her vest collar at the situation.

“You’re absolutely not one of those sad, mediocre apologists I run into with my own faction.” She said again. “So many times I’ve been told by the old farts in the HCA that excessive violence against the Nazis makes you as bad as them.” She leaned next to joseph, giving him a little side hug. “You actually WANT these bastards to be punished and you more than anyone here deserve to be disgusted by them.” Joseph smiled, which made fritz’s heart flutter momentarily before he got a grip and accepted joseph would never love him the way he wanted to be loved.

“I find myself occasionally enjoying killing these racist freaks.” Joseph confessed. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t like you in anyway at all.”

“And at least we’re not that blond coward who doesn’t care about human suffering or that abysmal state that the world is in right now.” She added. Maxilla whipped out a small portable radio device that was attached to a smart phone. She began tweaking it and swiping the screen with her finger until she heard a panicked voice.

“THOSE COMMIES BASTARDS BOMBED OUR FUCKING ESCAPE TUNNELS!” “THEIR ABOMINATIONS CHARGED RIGHT THROUGH US AND BLEW IT TO HELL!” Maxilla smiled to herself as she swiped her finger again.

“I figured we might get board on our little car trip, so how about a nice radio show called “we jacked these stupid fuck’s radio frequencies” She fiddled with the device again. A Englishman’s voice called out next;

“THE MAD SCAR’S BEEN SIGHTED NEAR THE AIRFIELD!” “WE’RE DOOMED!”

““I’M NOT SHITTING YOU! THE SCARRED HUNTER KILLED LIKE 6 SNIPERS WITH PERFECT HEAD-SHOTS BEFORE HIS GANG OF FREAKS KIDNAPPED ARTIFEX! “WE’RE FUCKED!” bellowed a man with a thick, Bostonian accent. Maxilla clicked the device again.

“THE RED SCAR KILLED WHITE WOLVERINE AND THE GREAT CUTLASS, I’M FUCKING OUT OF HERE!” Joseph suddenly remembered when he killed two snipers with a sword insignia and an insignia consisting of animal teeth. Another transmission got picked up with someone only muttering “Fröhliche Kaiserin.” Again and again. The VWS could hear another prosperan helicopter fly above them. Joseph looked around to see the multiple factions he had witnessed come together to stop the neo nazi threat of the ALA. For a moment, he was actually hopeful that people could put aside their differences to do the right thing. The VWS had finally reached the interior of the airfield, joseph once again picking up on George Smith’s presence. The green APC came to a screeching halt as URSA and another E-12 operative finished demolishing a cadre of American ALA soldiers.

“NATHAN.” Said Andrew Norman. “THERE IS AN ALPHA KOMMANDO MEMBER IN CHARGE OF THE BUNKER’S DEFENSES.” URSA provided joseph several photos of woman in the same sort of black camo and red armor as VELVET and the other abomination soldiers. SHE’S THE DEFENSE EXPERT OF ALPHA KOMMANDO, SHE SET UP MANY OF THE TRAPS AND SABOTAGED WEAPONS AROUND THE COMPOUND WHERE YOU APPREHENDED ARTIFEX. Joseph flashed back to the exploding rocket launcher that nearly killed veronica.

“You got it Andrew, we’ll watch out for her.”

“YOU ARE TO KILL HER ON SIGHT.” Nathan’s eyes widened at Andrew’s request. “AS WELL AS ANY AND ALL ALPHA KOMMANDO MEMBERS, INCLUDING N.1685.”

“Well, orders are orders.” Replied Nathan, his panicked eyes betrayed the concern for his superior’s blood-thirst.

“MY SUPERIORS HAVE DECLARED EACH OF THEM A LIABILITY.” “NO CAPTURE.” “NO NEGOTIATION.” “KILL.ON.SIGHT.”Joseph was perturbed by Andrew’s to the point order. His captain rallied them alongside the other E-12 members and QM soldiers as they headed towards the bunker.“MS GAERTNER.” Andrew said, speaking specifically to veronica. “IT’S TIME YOU GAVE THE CARE PACKAGE YOUR MOTHER GAVE YOU TO MR. BAKER.” Veronica felt around in her pack for a small box of sniper rifle ammunition. It read “ANTI-HOMO CENTONIBUS ROUNDS, ONLY TO BE USED AFTER GIVEN PROPER AUTHORIZATION, CODE 5-B512. A small note was folded inside, written in German, adorned with the HCA heraldry and an iron cross.

“THOUGH I AM UNABLE TO BE WITH YOU RIGHT NOW, I HAVE PERSONALLY TESTED ITS EFFECTIVENESS AGAINST THE FASCIST TRAITORS THAT DARE STAND IN THE WAY OF HCA BUSINESS.” GIVE THEM TO YOUR MARKSMAN, AND MAY HE SWIFTLY KILL THE FASCIST WHO TRIED TO TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME.” Meanwhile, RM III could sense RM II’s presence as he made his way to the rendezvous point when he detected a presence hiding near a boulder. An ALA field captain in the same chocolate chip camo and dull red vest as the rest of his men crept out of his hiding spot.

“Renaissance man III!” he said with excitement. “To think I’d meet a fellow ubermensch in this hellhole! RM III stared blankly, his mask dripped with condensation and blood. “You don’t know how MUCH our organization respects you!” “you simply kill and take what you want without mercy or pity, no matter how much blood you must shed!” he said excitedly. “A true example of Aryan superior-” RM III said nothing as he took out his handgun and shot the ALA captain in the head, causing his brains to splatter all over the rock from which hid behind. The young man looked down at the Neo Nazi he killed, then to the bone fragments and viscera that stained the surrounding area. For the first time in his life, he felt the bitter twinge of shame and disgust. His face contorted in a hateful expression while he tried to fight back tears before scurrying back to RM II…

TO BE CONTINUED IN MISSION 7

[mostcertainlynotcis]

Sorry. Your boyfriend turned into a bat. Yeah no he's still maintained his consciousness and everything he's just a bat now. An eastern small-footed bat, yeah. No he doesn't know how to change back. Sorry again.

[pickerelstripe]

[CM] Mammals - Prey

Third and final mammal post (for now), most of the animals here are taken by ClayClan as prey. They’re the size of or smaller than cats and generally safe to hunt, though there are exceptions. Below are translations for red-backed voles, bog lemmings, eastern chipmunks, and short-tailed shrews, plus several animals with the same name as base Clanmew.

Bats (general) - Fip* There’s several bat species in ClayClan, buuuut I’m yet to look into them, so for now I’m just listing the general term. Bats aren’t hunted (they’re too fast and have too little meat) but are instead enjoyed as nimble predators in their own right. Someday I’ll make a bat expansion with more words! 

Snowshoe hare (Lepus americanus) - Yywaya* Cat-sized or slightly larger. The largest mammal that’s regularly hunted; hares make for a challenging but rewarding meal. They change color depending on the season, bearing a mottled brown coat in summer and a pure white one in winter. The god Chikik is believed to resemble a snowshoe hare!

Long-tailed weasel (Mustela frenata) - Morfaf* Long snake-like body, very similar to an ermine. Both a hunter and the hunted - weasels compete with cats for small mammalian prey like mice and chipmunks, but are also killed to be eaten by the Clan.

Gray squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) - Chakchak* About a third of the size of a cat. These animals are found all over the forest, especially during fall, when they bury nuts for later retrieval. Hunted year-round as a hearty meal. Typically gray-and-white but sometimes all black!

Eastern chipmunk (Tamias striatus) - Twipip A small, relatively non-challenging prey animal. Easy to find foraging on the ground in open woodland.

White-footed mouse (Peromyscus leucopus) - Nai* White-footed mice are hunted often, but warriors must be careful to inspect the prey before transporting it for one important reason - white-footed mice are a favored host of larval deer ticks! Nobody wants to be the one responsible for bringing those back to camp... 

Red-backed vole (Myodes rutilus) - Kakak Common and easy to hunt, but not preferred due to their lack of meat. More valuable in winter when other prey becomes scarce.

Bog lemming (Synaptomys cooperi) - Wee Rare! Sometimes hunted when found, but generally considered not worth it due to their small size.

Star-nosed mole (Condylura cristata) - Bosgo* Found in shallow tunnels under wet soil. Hunted on occasion. Considered strange for their branching nose tentacles.

Short-tailed shrew (Blarina brevicauda) - Mwsswo (mwssaf*, owo*) Hunted semi-frequently, but warriors must be careful to avoid getting bit, as short-tailed shrew saliva contains a toxin that causes unusually painful bites!

[edenfenixblogs]

Ok! So I have a little time to summarize a bit now. I’ll probably post more tomorrow because there’s a family brunch happening. But WOW! Here’s some context so y’all understand:

Ok so my great grandmother escaped Eastern Europe before things got really bad in the Holocaust. Her family was from a small village that was—other than her—completely wiped out with no survivors.

My cousin and her immediate family were without a congregation for a few years because of the pandemic. They eventually found this amazing traveling progressive woman rabbi who all their friends use. So there’s still good community there but they don’t all have to be in an actual building for services. (Idk. Maybe there’s online services idk but all their personal actual rabbi work is done one-on-one. I love this woman she’s so dope.)

Well, as a traveling rabbi, she has her own Torah and a small ark she can carry from location to location.

Idk how many non-Jews know this, but every single Torah (that is kosher and used in services) is written by hand. Every single Torah must be written by someone who, at the moment of writing, must have religious/intent. You cannot just pick up a pen when you feel like it. Finally, every Torah no matter what has the same pagination. Every column of text starts and ends with the same word.

That means if a Torah is 8 inches tall or 28 inches tall—the text layout has to be exactly the same.

So the first miraculous thing: this rabbi has a very small completely kosher Torah. It’s the cutest, smallest Torah I’ve ever seen. And because all Torahs are so meticulously handcrafted it’s pretty easy to track their lineage.

Well this little Torah was specially commissioned in the early 1900s by a rabbi in Eastern Europe. The rabbi was from the largest village of a cluster of small villages, none of which were large enough to have a congregation of its own. So he’d travel from town on foot with this tiny Torah so the communities could have services.

All of the communities were wiped out just like my great grandmother’s. One of them might have BEEN my great grandmother’s!!!

And my grandmother — her daughter — was there to see it.

My dad passed my grandfather’s tallit to my cousin (no. There’s no weird reason he didn’t pass it to me. My godmother got me a beautiful one for my bat mitzvah with artistic portraits of Rachael, Leah, Sarah, and Rivkah rendered on each of the four corners. It’s very meaningful to me). It was so beautiful. My dad got choked up when he gave his blessing.

My parents and I did the second Aliyah for her Torah portion. It was very special. I also got called up for the candle lighting ceremony at the reception. It was very sweet.

And omg! My girl’s speech. I mentioned on here earlier that she had an amazing Torah portion. The Red Sea parting! Defeating the Amalekites! So many major moments!

What did this amazing girl focus on instead? She focused on the fact that it was named after Moses’ father in law, who was not Jewish and how he gave Moses advice that allowed Moses to spend more time with his family while serving his community. She talked about how it was important for us all to find a balance between taking care of ourselves and taking care of the people we love. She spoke about how important it was to love everyone in your community regardless of their religion (especially poignant, because her own father is not Jewish and could not have been more loving and supportive both of this process and of her in general).

It would have been so easy for her to talk about the miracle of Jewish survival or to turn this into a statement justifying vengeance upon those who have tried to kill us.

But no. She talked about community and love and doing the hard work and intercultural exchange.

I’m so proud of her.

And then finally, two close friends of my family have been going through a rough time. Something happened that…a lot of people don’t get through (nobody cheated or died or anything. But I can’t share more deets for privacy reasons). We all hoped they’d get through it. They clearly still loved each other. But we’d understand if they couldn’t get past the troubles. Love is hard sometimes. Sometimes love isn’t enough. Well, in November they signed their official divorce petition and started proceedings. We were all sad but at least things were amicable.

Well, tonight they told us THEY WERE OFFICIALLY SIGNED DOCUMENTS CALLING OFF THEIR DIVORCE. THEYRE BACK TOGETHER!!!!

I’m just so…overwhelmed by joy and gratitude and pride.

I’m at the bat mitzvah waiting for it to start!

How amazing is it that, on Holocaust Remembrance Day, that the descendants of our survivor grandmother are here? But ALSO, that her non-Jewish sister is here FROM GERMANY TO CELEBRATE WITH US????

Also our friends from Holland who are also not Jewish. I’m actually verklempt!!!

What a blessing!!! I’m so full of joy!

[crepuscularghost]

LOOK AT THIS BAT

[eulerami-art]

OC name meanings!

rules: google and post the meaning of your oc's name (if you made their name up or they go by a nickname, post an explanation of how it came to you)! bonus if you can find something for their last name too

Tagged by: @strafethesesinners 8')

Tagging @depyotee @writerofblocks @awsnapanat-20 @saintlyangels @zeroiii @kitkatpurrpurr @wiltei @sleepfight @arduyn @lydiaalin @amistrio @wolfsspectre

Ignacio (Nacho) Cuauhtli:

Ignacio is a male Spanish and Galician name originating either from the Roman family name Egnatius, meaning born from the fire, of Etruscan origin, or from the Latin name "Ignatius" from the word "Ignis" meaning "fire".

Cuauhtli, meaning 'eagle', is the day in the Aztec calendar associated with the goddess Xipe Totec. Xipe Totec is the god of seeds, rebirth and the shedding of skin. He is associated with springtime and transformation. Cuauhtli is associated with freedom and equality. It is a day for action, not reflection.

Nacho's got his name because of the kid that inspired him. Cuauhtli is also a surname I heard growing up. I didn't know enough at the time, more of just picked things I'd heard, so I'm aware that Cuauhtli isn't in the correct language for his tribe, which I'm working on. I love his first name though; I'll always associate it with warmth.

Troy Michael Kovner:

Troy is a male given first name used in English-speaking countries, and may derive from the Irish Troightheach, meaning "foot soldier". Troy can also be a short form of the female name Geertruida in Dutch.

Michael is a masculine given name derived from the Hebrew phrase מי כאל‎ 'Who [is] like-El', in Aramaic: ܡܝܟܐܝܠ. The theophoric name is a rhetorical question – "Who [is] like [the Hebrew God] El?", whose answer is "there is none like El", or "there is none as famous and powerful as God."

Kovner Jewish (eastern Ashkenazic): habitational name for someone from Kaunas in Lithuania, from its Yiddish name, kovne (Kovno in Russian).

I kept Troy's name from Saints Row, which I always thought was a nice name. It's unique and sounds nice. Michael is a good middle name in my opinion, it also suits the decade he was born in. I picked Kovner because it's one I heard growing up. There were a lot of people of Russian and Lithuanian descent in my hometown since Pittsburgh was one of the main places people emigrated to for work. Troy's grandparents were Lithuanian refugees so, that's what I went with.

T.Batu Hunnujin:

In Mongol, "Batu" means firm/stable. While the name is spelled Batu in Mongol Script (ᠪᠠᠲᠦ), the form Bat (Mongolian: Бат) is used in Mongol Cyrillic. In Turkish, "Batu" means "Prevailing", and/or "Preponderant". It also connotes "The West" since "Batu" resembles the word "Batı" which means "west" in Turkish. In Malay and Bahasa Indonesia, "Batu" means rock, stone or boulder.

Hunnujin: This is a composition name I made, it is a clan name and not a surname, since naming conventions follow patronymics. Hunnu is the mongol word for "human," which you may recognize in the word "huns." Obviously, this word has become misconstrued in history. It's also the same word, "Xiongnu," as in, one of the Turkic tribes that invaded northern China. The suffix -jin, in middle Mongolian, denotes "of," or "from."

The patronymic T: is for Toghri, his adopted father. Toghri is an old Turkic, Tocharian, or Uyghur name (I'm talking old as dirt,) and it is a place name, meaning "narrow/straight." Referring to a pass. Toghri was named after where he was born/what he first saw, which was a custom in olden days. It was also inspired by the brother of Yesugei (Chinggis Khan's father,) Toghrul, since I was inspired for his backstory by his life.

Batu is actually adopted. His real culture and family line is based on the nomadic Koryak, so his name was chosen for him by his adopted father, who picked it due to his resilience as a very small child. His clan name I made, and it's inspired by the Hunnu/Xiongnu, which his adopted father is from. Batu is therefore, as a black shaman, symbolically, of the people, a man of mankind.

Gishbarra (Gibil) Unguruda:

Gishbarra is a Sumerian composite word meaning "fire starter," or "kindler." This is his birth name. His title upon ascension to the palace in his society transformed him into Gibil. Gibil in Sumerian mythology is the god of fire, variously of the son of An and Ki, An and Shala or of Ishkur and Shala. He later developed into the Akkadian god Gerra.

Unguruda is another Sumerian composite word to say, essentially, "the copper people." It's the name of his people, since they don't have surnames.

Gishbarra is literally a lesser/demi god (tengri,) and only has 2 souls ("suld" - ancestral knowledge, and the body soul,) as opposed to the 3 that humans have. He's an elemental spirit, responsible for teaching metallurgy to humanity, and fire incarnate. He's thousands and thousands of years old, but has very spotty memory due to the great war he perished in.

The Unguruda are quite literally made from copper, based on the Sumerian creation myth that the gods shaped humans from spit/blood and dirt made into clay. The gods forged them, however, from metal. When he fell, his body turned into a metal statue while his soul was trapped in a mirror. When reunited, soul and body, he became human and alive again.

[4shfur]

hiii :)) so i decided to make a poster/cover thing for my original story, Chiropteryx! I'm hiping to start posting more about it, and maybe eventually start writing it as well (it'll probably be a while before that because I'm still planning out the story) It's about two eastern small footed bats (Myotis leibii) named Moth and Cricket, traveling around the world of Chiropteria! (and maybe uncovering some secrets as they go ;)

[entrapdaknation]

Conquerors Should Use the Metro

I couldn’t help myself. After participating in this Twitter thread, I threw together a drabble about what would happen if the Horde tried to conquer Earth, starting with Washington D.C.

I need to be stopped.

=========================

TRANSCRIPT. AIR DATE 8/26/20XX.

ANNOUNCER: This is an ABC News special report.

ANCHOR: Good afternoon. I'm Lance D'Abcesse, reporting from ABC News headquarters. A situation is developing in central Washington D.C., where a man and a troop of autonomous military robots are wreaking havoc on a Georgetown neighborhood.

[Scene: Arial drone footage of a Georgetown residential neighborhood, where police are crouching behind their vehicles, pointing weapons at a dozen Horde battle bots. The bots proceed to ignite empty cars and recycling bins with laser fire.]

ANCHOR: According to law enforcement, around 12:45 p.m. Eastern, a belligerent man arrived in this quiet Georgetown neighborhood, accompanied by a dozen military robots. Eyewitnesses report that the man kicked in the doors of several white houses and demanded an audience with "Earth leaders" to negotiate "the planet's surrender". The man was described as roughly seven feet tall with blue hair and red eyes, wearing armor and a skull mask. His skin appears to be dyed blue, leading police to speculate that he may be a disgrunted Dallas Cowboys fan. The man is also armed with what appears to be an arm-mounted T-shirt canon.

[Scene: Hordak stands at the threshold of a white residential home. After vaporizing the door with a shot from his laser canon, he saunters into the house. Several seconds later, Hordak runs out of the house, shielding his head with his free arm as an old woman smacks him with a broom.]

ANCHOR: FBI intelligence officials intercepted the following electronic communication between the man and an accomplice.

"Any luck finding the leaders, Hordak?"

"No. I've stormed ten white houses searching for Earth's sovereigns, but all I've uncovered are elders, housewives, and children. These Earth commoners have battered me with brooms, thrown appliances at my head, and berated me for interrupting their video games."

"The planet's rulers have to be around here somewhere!"

"Clearly, this "Bai-Din" and his courtiers are too cowardly to face me on the battlefield!"

"Hordak, honey, let's regroup. Just take the Blue Line or the Orange Line to the Smithsonian Metro Station."

"I am NOT navigating that subterranean labyrinth again. The city's underground tunnels are more confusing than Crypto Castle. I will go on foot."

"Okay, but the Metro's quicker. Listen, I've secured all the Smithsonian museums with EKS bots. The visitors thought they were some kind of science exhibit! They loved them! I'll be waiting for you at the National Air and Space Museum. There's so much science here! They have a space suit testing android! We need to build a science museum in the Fright Zone when we get--Emily, don't knock over that display!"

ANCHOR: Another developing story is taking place in Washington D.C. at the National Air and Space Museum. An unidentified woman entered the building with five military robots and began climbing on exhibits. Visitors were evacuated by museum staff, and security guards were chased by robots when they attempted to remove the woman. ABC News correspondent Anita Beere was granted access to the museum.

[Scene: Entrapta sits on top the Lunar Module LM-2 as a journalist points a microphone at her.]

ENTRAPTA: So after Hordak conquered Etheria and we figured out how to get Etheria out of Despondos, he thought that conquering the nearest neighbor would make an even better impression on Horde Prime. We were supposed to meet up with the rest of our troops, but they insisted on driving here in tanks and skiffs. I told them to use the Metro! Lonnie, Kyle, and Rogelio got lost somewhere near Logan Circle. Last I heard, Catra and Scorpia wound up in Baltimore, somehow.

BEERE: Once the Horde conquers Earth, what does Hordak plan to do with the planet?

ENTRAPTA: That's the thing. The Horde doesn't really do anything with the places it conquers. He'll probably slap some bat-symbols on everything and call it a day.

BEERE: Witnesses claim that you brought a toddler inside with you. Is it wise to bring a small child along for a war campaign?

ENTRAPTA: Imp? Oh, he won't cause too much mayhem.

[Imp flies through the air and lands on the module next to Entrapta. Imp opens his mouth, and a recording of a woman flows from his lips: "Mr. President, the situation in Georgetown has devolved into--OH GOD A DEMON BABY!"]

BEERE: How does the Horde plan to conquer a planet of almost 8 billion people with a handful of troops and robots?

ENTRATPA: Ei...eight...billion...people?

BEERE: That's right. Earth's population is 7.8 billion people.

[Entrapta's hair twitches. Her eye twitches. She stares blankly at the journalist, then extracts a recorder from her overalls pocket.]

ENTRAPTA: Log entry 1094. Earth has almost 8 billion people. Our earlier intelligence reports were...in error. I'm going to need to build more robots.

ANCHOR: ABC News will closely monitor both situations in Washington. In other news, thirteen people were injured in the Inner Harbor district of Baltimore, Maryland. Witnesses at Phillips Seafood claim that a woman in a cat costume became argumentative when the restaurant ran out of blue crabs. A brawl ensued with other patrons after the woman reportedly asked, "Why do you [EXPLETIVE] people put Old Bay on everything?" and "Why are you idiots obsessed with ravens?" The woman was last seen fleeing toward Harborplace in a hovercraft with a woman dressed as a steamed crab.

[loveisinthebat]

Lil' Tiny Peets

[americxn]

Escape From Briarcliff (Kit x GN!Reader)

>> reader attempts to break Kit out of Briarcliff <<

((please excuse how messily this is written, I was very tired whilst writing/proofreading it))

wordcount: 4.3k warnings: angst? swearing, violence, blood mention

Your breaths came out sharp and laboured, the chill air meeting them and turning them to small, cloudy puffs, drifting up into the dark canvas of the night sky. The stones of the wall you leant against were slick beneath your palm, the light smattering of rain falling upon the world having soaked thoroughly into your clothes during the hour long trek it had taken to get to the wretched building that housed your lover; Kit had been condemned to the towering, impenetrable walls of Briarcliff only three weeks ago, but his absence had stretched those days into eternity. He didn’t know you had come for him, which only made the task at hand infinitely difficult. You had never so much as stepped into this building before, and now you faced having to both break in and break back out again with Kit by your side.

There was a tall archway cut into the stone somewhere on the Eastern side of the building; you had seen it in the few pictures of the corrupt institution that you had managed to source and with some further research, you had discovered that the archway led into an underground tunnel that wove itself through the solid foundations of the building. It supposedly opened into a long since forgotten chamber that was now used for storage and it was this knowledge that you clutched to, praying that the ‘supposedly’ was fruitful. It was this tunnel, eerily named the ‘death chute’ that made your unfeasible plan possible.

The unearthly sounds that had been distantly emanating from the forest surrounding the building seemed to become louder; you shook off the sickening sense of dread that the unknown noises instilled in you, your eyes large and bright in the smothering darkness. You swallowed, continuing to search the side of the building for the archway, the unforgiving cold of the bricks biting into the skin of your palm. Trying to quell the terror pooled in a deep well within you was impossible, and so you let it fuel you, savouring the burn it implemented to the back of throat and allowing it spur you on. If this was how you felt after spending mere moments on the outside of the building, you couldn’t imagine the fear plaguing Kit’s every waking moments.

You shrieked when the wall suddenly gave way beneath your palm, stumbling to regain your balance, panting hard. The deep night made it almost impossible to see so much as a foot in front of you, but you were sure that this was what you were looking for. Squaring your shoulders, you took a deep, steadying breath and stepped out before the opening in the wall, the darkness swirling within impossibly dark, yawning open before you. Stepping into the mouth of the building, the very air seemed too heavy, too quiet, the noises echoing from the trees at your back becoming muted as soon as you stepped past the threshold of the archway and into the tunnel.

The sounds of your own breathing and reluctant steps taken further into the dark bounced back to your own ears, goosebumps rising onto your skin; you were sure that their formation was not of a result of the rain-soaked clothes hanging heavily off your frame. Forcing yourself to take another step, and another, your spine prickling more persistently with each foot you moved deeper into the belly of the building, you conjured a glowing image of Kit’s face in the forefront of your mind to convince you to keep advancing, the memory of the softness of his skin swirling around your fingertips. 

The darkness was so deep that you were unsure of whether your eyes were open or not and time didn’t seem to exist in the swathing darkness, the ground rough underfoot as you forced yourself to venture deeper, deeper, deeper. You kept your palm pressed flat against the decaying walls as you went, following it’s twists and curves, cringing whenever your skin trailed over something that didn’t feel like the mildew slick stone of the wall. This was enough to tear away anyone’s sanity. The dark, the heaviness of the air that seemed to cool the body from the inside when drawn in, the utter silence that exposed the sounds of your own ragged breathing, sharpened with fear, and the frantic fluttering of your heart as it struggled to pump your life source, which had been long turned to icy sludge by bitter terror.

Your swallow was loud in your ears as the wall made a sharp turn, unease spider crawling down your spine as you followed the corner; your heart stumbled when you beheld the thin shaft of light bordering the end of the stone corridor, both relief and raw fear spilling over you. Perhaps a small, concealed part of you had been hoping that the twisting halls would lead you to a dead end and you would be forced to retrace your steps and find another, less ominous way into the building. You strode for the thin strip of light spilling onto the rocky ground, your touch on the wall becoming lighter and lighter as you approached the large door, almost stumbling over your feet in your eagerness to get out of the overbearing darkness. Laying your palms flat on the heavy door, you pushed, thanking any god that might be listening when it gave way beneath your touch, swinging open and bathing you in dim light. 

The room beyond was large and mercifully empty, boxes upon boxes pushed against the walls in stacks, broken pieces of worn down furniture scattered about the room. You located the door on the opposite wall and hurried for it, briefly pausing to press your ear against its surface, listening intently to ensure that nobody occupied the hallway beyond. Silence greeted you and so you pushed it open, glancing down each side of the empty corridor before softly easing the door closed behind you. The inside of the building was just as unsettlingly quiet as the tunnel you had just manoeuvered through, but at least the interior was well lit. 

A fresh wave of panic had your insides twisting and chest constricting; you hadn’t thought this far ahead. You had no idea where you were and where you needed to go to find Kit. Taking a steadying breath, you glanced down each end of the hall once more, attempting to deduce which way you should venture. To your left was a door set into what seemed to be the end of the corridor but to your right, the corridor bent, large windows set into the stone of the wall, looking out into the inky blackness of the night. It was an easy decision. You went right, skirting along the edge of the hallway on light feet, glancing around the bend of the hall before emerging into the new, slightly wider stretch of corridor that was once again blessedly empty. Several doors lined each side of the hall and your heart paused each time you had to pass one, terrified that someone would burst out and drag you into an unknown room. Batting the unwelcome thoughts away, you continued on, the occasional distant echo of a door slamming shut making you violently flinch.

Your boy was somewhere in this building and that was only thought amongst many that spurred you on, that kept you placing one foot after the other, venturing through corridor after corridor, choosing your paths based on how open they looked, never taking a turn into a dead end. Eventually, the seemingly unending labyrinth of halls opened into a grand room which you assumed was the heart of the complex, a wide set of stairs snaking around and around, branching off to different levels above you, a large glass dome spilling the dim moonlight onto the lower floors, its illumination eerie and lustrous. You took a glance around, shrinking back into the corridor when two men, smartly dressed and carrying an air of authority, passed through the centre of the opening, their footsteps echoing up through the cavernous space to the ceiling high above, conversing softly with one another. Guards, if their uniforms and essence of corruption was any indication. They strode off into another hall, your heart hammering against your ribs as you glanced around once; several smaller hallways branched off the open space, the walls lined with doors. Across from you, a large, open doorway looked into a gaping room, strange music leaking out from within. There was people in there, you noticed, people lounging in armchairs, gazing vacantly into space, people hitting their heads of the wooden pillars reaching up from the floor to the ceiling, people shrieking and squawking at one another. Definitely not guards.

Taking another thorough glance around the open space, scanning the floors above you, you hurried across the exposed space, neck prickling as you did so before tucking yourself behind one of the large open doors, chest heaving. You were so terribly aware of how painfully out of place you looked, soaked through to the skin, hair limp with the weight of the raindrops, face gaunt from the prolonged state of fear that your mounting panic held your under. 

Taking a deep breath, you peered around the door, craning your neck to look fully into the room. That strange music filled your anxiety clouded conscious, disorienting you as you focused on scanning the room for any sign of Kit. The room was crawling with patients, most dead eyed, their hair matted in large tangles at the backs of their heads. Your gut roiled with a dizzying combination of unease and utter commiseration for these poor people but you forced your gaze to tear away from the man stood in the corner of the large space, rocking slowly back and forth on his feet, the jeans at his crotch stained with wetness, peering further around the door to scan the far side of the wall. You drew in a breath, shrinking back as your new vantage point revealed the burly looking guard lounging in a wooden chair by the doorway. Frozen, you watched for several seconds, noting the book clutched in his large hands resting upon his lap; all of his attention was trained on the words sprawling across the crisp pages of the book, so engrossed in whatever it was he was reading that his shoulders were curved inwards on himself, the small frown matched with the slight part of his lips informing you that this man would only draw his gaze from the book if an urgent situation were to arise. Tearing your eyes from him, you continued your search, fingers gripping tightly onto the edge of the door as you risked leaning tentatively forwards once more.

Your mind fell utterly still when you saw him. He was leant against one of the tall wooden pillars near the back of the room, facing you with one of his knees bent to brace his foot on the surface he lounged against, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Your heart seemed to shed some heavy weight at the sight of him, still looking decently well kept, the shadow of a bruise painting colour around one of his eyes. The urge to sprint for him was unbelievably strong, bringing tears to your eyes as you watched him bring his hand up to his mouth, catching the cigarette between the lithe fingers that you had missed so desperately and tap the ash from the tip onto the floor, expelling his lungful of smoke into the musty air and watching will dull eyes as it drifted up before dissipating into nothing.

Taking one final glance into the open space at your back, then to useless guard positioned against the wall adjacent to the door, spine prickling relentlessly, you stepped out from around the door, breathing hard as you began to gesture frantically at Kit, begging him to lift his gaze once more and behold you waving desperately at him. Nobody else seemed to notice your presence, to your poorly registering relief, as you took small step forwards, Kit’s eyes trained on the floor, seemingly lost in bottomless thought. You took another frantic glance over your shoulder before taking another step forwards, jaws clenching to bite back a cry as you gestured feverishly. 

Another glance behind you and another tentative step across the threshold of the room had you struggling to pull in a full breath through your clenched jaw. Time seemed to freeze when Kit’s eyes flicked up, briefly falling back to the floor before his whole head jerked up in your direction, eyes widening and face contorting in terror. A tear leaked from your eye as you offered him a watery smile, face creasing with anxiety before you hastened back a few steps, checking the space behind you again before ducking back behind the door. The cigarette fell from Kit’s fingers as he pushed away from the pillar he was leant against. He had crossed the large room in several long strides, his eyes trained on the spot you had disappeared from, unsure if the medication he was forced to take was bringing you to him in a cruel mirage or if you were actually here. 

The guard stood suddenly, almost stumbling as he was pulled out of the trance his book had placed him in, stepping in front of the door and holding out a hand as Kit approached. Kit’s eyes flashed as his path to you was blocked; you tucked yourself further into the safety of the open door, straining to listen and watching the two men through the small crack of the wooden jamb. Your view from the guard was obscured but you watched as Kit shoved the man’s hand away from his chest with a scowl. “I need to go to the bathroom.” Kit insisted, trying to skirt around the mans body, who moved with Kit, ensuring that he couldn’t get past. “Then I have to come with you.” The guard spoke levelly in a gritty tone, watching in mild irritation at the minor interruption as Kit tipped his head back towards the ceiling. “Fine.” He gritted out, waiting until the guard had turned to lead him from the room before sparing the door you hid behind a glance. His silent plea was clearly displayed, gleaming amongst the suppressed desire shining in his eyes: Leave.  

You shook your head despite being hidden from him, watching as he followed the man into the open space of the room you were tucked away in, trailing a foot or two behind the guard. Kit craned his neck, searching for you as he was led away from you and into one of the many hallways branching off the main room. You peered out from around the door, locking eyes with Kit, pulse fluttering in your throat as he was led away.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You had no other choice but to push away from the safety of the door, glancing up at the levels above you before stepping into the exposure of the room, hurrying across the space just as Kit stepped across the threshold into the corridor, glancing at you in wide eyed disbelief as you chased after him, your treads feather light.

Barely breathing, you paused by the wall upon seeing that the hallway was completely empty aside from the two men now striding quickly away from you, nothing to use for concealment, nothing to hide behind. Kit seemed to notice too, throwing a shallow shake of the head over his shoulder as he was lead deeper into the corridor.

Mind working, you ran your fingers feverishly through your hair, scanning the ground floor of the space you now stood in, precious time slipping through your grasp. Kit had almost reached the sharp bend at the end of the hall by the time you had pieced together a dangerously unprepared plan; hurrying back to the doorway you had hidden behind, you stepped into the room, lunging for the heavy tome that the guard had discarded on his chair, the leather cover still warm from his body heat. One of the patients grunted loudly at you, watching you run from the room with an unplaceable emotion. You cringed at the slapping of your thin shoes against the worn marble floor, too loud as you crossed the room before hurtling down the hall, the book a heavy weight in your arms as you skidded, almost losing your balance before you pushed off the wall, using its momentum to barrel around the acutely angled corner. Kit and the guard turned in synchronisation as you appeared, fuelled by unrelenting fear and nauseating apprehension. Digging your feet into the ground, forcing your body to a stop, you raised the book high in the air, Kit twirling and taking ahold of the arm the man lifted to ward you off as you slammed the brick of paper down on his head with considerable force. 

Kit stepped away as the guard crumpled to the floor with a shriek of indignant surprise, your lovers eyes stretching even wider when you pushed past him, your fear induced anger fuelling your motions as you raised the book once more, striking it onto the man’s pain pinched face. The impact rumbled through your fingers, the bridge of his nose giving way with an abhorrent crunch. Kit watched on, too stunned to act as you brought the tome down onto the guard’s face a third and final time, a sense of sick satisfaction spurring you on as thick rivulets of blood spilled from his broken noise, the man sputtering on his own hot life source that poured from him. His body slumped against the cold tiles of the floor as you delivered the final blow with wild eyes; you threw the book with force onto the sated mans chest, breathing hard as you turned to Kit.

He launched himself at you, nearly knocking you off your feet with the force of the embrace he pulled you into, hot tears spilling down both of your faces as you were finally able to feel one another. “Are you insane?” He croaked, pulling away from you and taking your face in his warm hands. “Maybe.” You said in a shaky tone through your tears, reaching up to grip onto his wrists. “But you’re not. You shouldn’t be in here.” Kit offered you a trembling laugh, his grip on your jaw tightening. You reached to swipe the few stray tears from his flushed cheeks before surging forwards, your restraint lapsing, and connecting your lips to his. He savoured the warmth of your mouth, pouring his love for you through the touch before pulling away and taking your hand. “We need to go. Now.” You nodded, too overcome with raw emotion to offer him any verbal agreement before tugging on his hand, the two of you hurrying back down the corridor in the direction you had just come from. You paused at the threshold of the dangerously open space that housed the hallway you had initially emerged from, pulling on Kit’s hand once you were sure that there was no one lingering by the railings of the overhanging levels skirting the large cavern of the room.

Kit scanned the space frantically, some of your fear transferring to him. Your own felt dulled by Kit by your side, his presence a welcome solstice that you grasped onto with all of your strength as you skirted around the room to the opening you needed to slip into. The distant slamming of a door made you audibly shriek, Kit’s hand tensing around yours as the echoing noise cruelly frightening you both. 

You managed to ignore the overbearing urge to run until slipping into the somewhat familiar hallway, Kit’s grip on our hand unfaltering as you fought to keep your breathing even. You weren’t alone anymore. And yet somehow, it made you all the more frantic; you had more to lose now. You had dragged Kit into whatever the fuck this plan was and you’d be damned if you allowed yourself to be ripped from his side again. Your fingers shook with the possibility that he very much could be taken from you once more, so soon after being reunited. Glancing at him, the gaunt cheeks, the shadows sharpening the planes of his face, his chapped lips and blackened eye... you swallowed thickly, returning the uneasy smile he offered you, your fingers squeezing his in a weak gesture of attempted reassurance.

A shout ripped through the air from behind you. 

Kit went utterly still as you whirled, mouth going utterly dry as you beheld the two guards you had seen passing through the open room earlier, their faces twisting in confusion as they pinned their cold gazes upon you.

“Run.” You rasped, tightening your grip on Kit’s hand and yanking him after you as you broke out into a frantic sprint, the heavy footsteps of your new assailants echoing down the hall to your ears as they ran for you, feet pounding against the hard floor. The two of you hurtled around the corner, hand in hand, your teeth clenched painfully hard in order to stop any of the terrified sobs that clawed their way up your throat from spilling over and splattering onto the floor beneath you fast moving feet. The wall at the next bend was a harsh impact beneath your outreached hand as you slammed into it, unable to slow your momentum and utilise it to spur you faster, pushing off it and turning into the new stretch of hall, ignoring the biting pain it sent radiating through your arm. 

Your mind began screaming, eyes blinking back the cloudy sheen of panic blurring the edges of you vision, the only sound the breath rasping through your own gritted teeth and the pounding footsteps of the men behind you, rapidly gaining ground as you and Kit stumbled through the halls, partially blinded by ever mounting terror.

You were reluctant to welcome the fear but let it latch onto you regardless, enabling it to spur you on, encouraging you to run faster, thighs burning, another sharp corner looming before you. 

Faster.

Your inner voice screamed at you and you complied, feet moving unthinkingly beneath you, Kit matching your speed, his chest alight with singeing breaths that tore threw him, your palm slick with cold, clammy sweat against his. Barrelling blindly through hallway after hallway of the wretched building, you allowed the terror to take over, lending your body to it and allowing it to sharpen your senses like a whetstone. Your breathing had been reduced to wet rasps, your teeth gritting as you pushed past the searing in you legs, forcing yourself to keep moving, Kit’s eyes gleaming in alarm as he threw a glance over his shoulder. He overtook you, dragging you after him and

encouraging you to move, his secure grip on your hand lending you more energy to keep going, to keep moving, pushing and pushing until you reached the hallway where the room connecting to the death chute awaited. You spied the plain wooden door at the far end and gave one last burst of energy, hurtling down the final corridor, sobs ripping uncontrollably from your throat. You slammed into the door, throwing the entirety of your body weight into it, stumbling as it gave way beneath you shoulder and hauling Kit after you with a wrenching tug.

The small pause that interrupted your pace as you hurriedly manoeuvered around the door was detrimental, Kit’s hand coming to brace against the wood of the doorframe as your harsh pull knocked his balance off axis. That small pause was all your assailants needed. 

Kit’s hand was torn from yours with a grunt, his nails raking harshly across your skin as he grappled to regain purchase. You whirled, icy dread dulling your senses as you watched his body being hauled away from you, back into the hallway, his face twisting in rage as he struggled to fight the guard holding him off. The other man paid Kit’s shouts of indignation no attention as he pushed his way into the room. You stumbled over your own feet, backing away from the man before managing to gather some of your sense once more, tugging it along like a weight as you turned for the door that led to the darkness that would take you to freedom. Kit’s cry of terror as the other guard approached you, no longer feeling the need to run as he watched you pitifully scramble for the door, collapsing against it and fumbling with the handle.

You had been so close, so so close, and now-

A large hand latched onto the crown of your head, the fingertips grappling into your hair in order to gain purchase. You yelped in fear, the wood of the door splintering and sending small shards ramming beneath your fingernails as you struggled to pull it open. The guard wasted no time, having no interest in drawing this out as he used his grip on your hair to yank your head back. The impact as your skull was unmercifully slammed against the door that housed your freedom was confounding, a wet thud emanating when your temple made contact with the thick wood. Darkness was upon you immediately, a strange cold sensation prickling through your fingertips and up the length of your wrists before your body slumped, Kit’s cry landing on your rapidly deafening ears as the man took up your limp body in his arms. 

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt @sanni333 @mossybank @tatesimper

[chaseatinydream]

snakes, cats and dogs || c.s (atz)

➵ pairing: reader x choi san (ateez)

➵ word count: 2831

➵ genre: hogwarts au; rivals to lovers

➵ synopsis: at the rate things are going, hogwarts is going to become a zoo

>>>

You don’t think it’s a secret to anyone that you hate Choi San.

Alright, perhaps hate would be too strong of a word. Choi San is annoying. He pisses you off. He’s like a pesky little fly that buzzes in your ear and lands in your soup but you can never catch, he’s just that.

Annoying.

Really, really annoying.

You sigh, shaking back the sleeves of your robes to look at the time. A glance at the watch sitting on your left wrist tell you that it’s time for prefect patrol, getting up from the plush leather seats of the common room, you bid the Giant Squid goodbye with a weary wave as it slinks past the windows, basked in the ghostly green glow.

Stepping out of the doorway, you tuck your hands into your pockets, the dungeons can get a little chilly, especially at night, and you’re not in the mood to catch a cold at this time of the year. There are exams to be taken and you can’t afford to fall sick now. With a soft hum, you head to the Great Hall to meet up with the other prefect on duty tonight.

Tonight, Kim Hongjoong is waiting for you with a cup of hot chocolate in hand, feet swinging back and forth gently, perched on very end of the Ravenclaw table, bundled up in a warm knitted blue scarf. The sixth year is one of your good friends, having started off as a good mentor for your studies, as uncommon as inter-house friendships sounded.

He waves warmly the second he sees you step into the Great Hall with a soft, secretive smile, the massive school is entirely quiet and empty, completely yours. There’s magical feeling in the air when your footsteps echo in the silence of the hall, the air so often filled with chatter and laughter now hushed and drowsy with slumber.

“Good night to you.” Hongjoong raises his mug in some sort of greeting and you laugh quietly, taking a seat on the bench next to him. He slides a cup over to you as well and you sip it, letting the sweet warmth spread from the tip of your tongue down to your toes. “It’s cold. Didn’t you bring a scarf?”

“I didn’t think I would have Apparated to the North Pole the second I left the Common Room, but by then I was too lazy to go back and get it.” You shrug and Hongjoong chuckles, he’s used to your careless attitude. “I’m alright. I’ll just finish up patrol, head back to the dorms and defrost in front of the fireplace before I go to bed. Anyways, I’m sure running after him will get my body temperature up.”

At the sheer thought of him, your face pulls into a scowl.

Hongjoong winces in sympathetically. “That kid still giving you the run for your money, huh?”

“He’s so... ugh!” You complain, slamming your mug down on the table for added impact. Luckily for you, it’s already completely empty, its contents having all gone down your throat. “I just spot him sneaking out in the corridors all the time and I’m not fast enough to catch him! He’s as slippery as a snake, honestly!”

An amused smile curves Hongjoong’s lips. “Aren’t you a Slytherin too? Moreover, didn’t you use to slip out at night after curfew too last year?”

You pause, scowling, it’s too late for your mind to be working at this hour. “I... yeah, but I’m supposed to be a prefect now. It’s... it’s a pride thing. If he keeps escaping me it’s like a taunt in my face. I’ve never even seen him do anything, but he’s just there.”

Hongjoong does laugh this time, his melodious voice ringing throughout the Great Hall.

“Alright. How about we get to patrol fast so you don’t become a walking icicle by the time you return to bed?” He raises a chocolate warmed hand to pinch your cheek playfully and you laugh, batting his hand away, your bad mood instantly gone. “I take the eastern side and you take the other?”

“Howdy, Future Head Boy.” You salute and he pushes you in the arm with a laugh, you set down the mug; the house elves will clear it later for you. The two of you get up and start walking out of the Hall, Hongjoong making small talk with you about Transfiguration and the latest Quidditch match. After he makes you promise to attempt to stop San from sabotaging the semifinals (Ravenclaw against Hufflepuff), you wave and part ways.

The hallways are ghostly silent as usual, and by that you mean deathly silent aside from the mad cackling of Peeves in one of the upper classrooms. With a sigh, you slide a hand into your pocket to rest on your wand, ready to cast an Obscurio charm on the poltergeist in case he’s round the next bend. Slytherins aren’t known for being resourceful for nothing, and you guess that you’re one of the only people to know that the blinding spell works on ghosts as well.

Making your usual rounds, you scale the stairs, careful to make sure that the whimsical staircases aren’t about to move before hopping up the steps as fast as you can. And just as your foot touches the floor, you hear the groan of the staircase moving behind you; there goes your fastest way back to the dorms. With a sigh, wishing that you’d thought to bring a scarf, you step forward... and hear a strange, muffled noise.

You frown.

Pulling out your wand with cold numbed fingers, you move towards the noise, you’ve heard the basilisk stories and whatnot about werewolf professors. While you’re pretty confident in your dueling capabilities, having been invited to join the Dueling Club in your third year, you don’t want to risk anything. So, warily, you inch closer and closer to the end of the corridor, the shadows being cast by the windows in the light of the full moon really aren’t helping your paranoia, and you keep Protego on the tip of your tongue, ready to blast a Shield Charm at the first sight of danger as you round the corner-

“Woof!”

Huh?

You poke your head around the pillar and make a face, to your surprise, it’s a Shiba Inu sitting there, tail wagging excitedly. Your stare continues even as it barks a joyous little sound and runs circles around you, tongue lolling out - you’re pretty sure dogs are not on the list of approved pets in Hogwarts, and that you should report it to the teachers immediately, but...

But you’ve always had a massive weakness for dogs, and from the way this one keep pawing your legs excitedly, it likes you too! You can’t help but feel your heart fill with warmth.

“Hey there, little guy.” You murmur, getting on one knee to crouch in front of the dog, immediately it licks your hand vigorously, barking the entire time. It rubs its head against your palm and nuzzles its snout into the folds of your robes, as if searching for treats. “How did you get here?”

“Woof!” The dog barks brightly in reply, and unluckily for you, you don’t speak a word of dog. However, lady fortune shines upon to you tonight, there’s a noise down the hallway you’d just come down and you rise to your feet instantly, wand already out even before you realise.

“Shiber?” You hear a voice calling, and to your glee (and perhaps annoyance) you realise that it’s Choi San’s voice. Then you frown and glance down at the Shiba Inu at your feet, who’s still panting happily and looking up at you. Why on earth is San looking for his cat at this hour of the night?

You ignore it, however, and merely wait for your prey to round the corner. Finally you will catch him, finally you can stop running after him, and finally-

The dog runs out and you barely manage to fight down your gasp, berating the dog mentally for startling you, but before you can get upset, you hear San cry out in happiness.

“Shiber! Thank goodness I found you!” He says, sounding relieved and there’s a series of short barks in reply, and to say you’re confused is an understatement. You wrack your mind, desperately, trying to pull the frazzled pieces of your mind together, it’s eleven at night and it’s too cold for this. Isn’t Shiber a cat?

“Why did you run away, huh?” San’s voice turns scolding now and you keep silent, still utterly confused about this. You’re pretty sure San either had some wrong mushrooms at dinner or he’s just plain sleepwalking right now, until you hear the next words that leave his lips. “What would have happened if any of the professors were walking around at night and found out that you’re actually a dog, Shiber?”

For a second, you simply make a face, mind trying to fire its remaining cylinders in the cold. And then your mouth falls open, and it clicks.

Shiba Inu. Shiber. Shiba Inu. Shiber. It makes so much sense now.

“Choi San, you have a dog?” You say, incredulously as you round the corner. San almost leaps five feet into the air in shock, as if you’re Sirius Black out for his blood, with an incriminating Shiber clutched tightly to his chest. Now that you look at the Shiba Inu a little more clearly, you can see where the coloring of its fur matches that of its feline form, the coat is of the same shade, the ears twitch in exactly the same way. ”Oh my god, that’s some high level Transfiguration skills right there-”

Before you can say another word, San pins you to the wall, one hand pressed urgently against your mouth and you make a noise of protest, smacking his arm hard indignantly. “Yah!”

“Shh!” He hushes you immediately, glancing around warily as if looking out for something. Of course you don’t listen to him - what does he think he’s doing - opting instead for flailing about in a bid to get free but he’s too strong, deceptively lean arms hiding well toned biceps and forearms.

“You can’t just do this to your house prefect!” You protest against his palm, the sentence coming out more like a garbled string of incomprehensible noises rather than anything resembling real words. He ignores you, you feel your fury spike up and you’re ready to stab him in the eye with your wand when he turns to look at you, he’s very close, way too close.

“Shh! What if a teacher walks past?” He whispers fiercely into your ear, a scowl replacing his usual, devil-may-care grin. You give him and death glare and kick him in the kneecap, but he doesn’t budge in the least. Rolling your eyes, you lean away as far as you can from him, there’s nowhere to go but the warmth of his forearm cushioning your back from the stone wall, it burns through your thin robes and an unwilling flush rises to your cheeks.

“Then you’ll get detention like you should!” You hiss in reply, trying to wriggle out of his grip. “And then get into trouble for bringing a dog into school, like you’re supposed to!”

San’s face go white the second those words leave your mouth, than to your absolute shock he grabs your hands pleadingly, wringing them back and forth with a frantic look on his face.

“You can’t tell.”

“What can’t I tell?” You grumble, suddenly immensely awkward, you weren’t expecting him to do this in the least, and immediately contrive to extricate yourself from the social train wreck as fast as possible. “Choi San. Choi San, let go of me!”

“You can’t tell the professors.” San says almost desperately, subconsciously pressing forward in his distress, and you make a face as you try to back away, whoa, whoa, whoa, personal bubble, boy! “Please!”

“I’m a prefect, I can’t just let you get away with stuff like that.” You snap, still trying to pull away from him. “What, the worst thing they can do is send Shiber back to your parents, it’s not like the school will turn him into hot dog or something-”

“They won’t.” San tells you, and for the first time you hear the edge of desperation and sheer, undiluted fear in his voice, his hand gripping your impossibly tight. “But my parents will.”

It’s no secret to the whole school that Choi San is practically nobility, even among the Slytherins. He’s the only son borne of a marriage between two aristocratic families. Power, prestige, wealth, he has it all, and even his money has its own prestige, it’s old money, businesses and trades that have been passed down the generations. And his parents wouldn’t take care of one dog?

“Wait.” You pause, giving him a confused look. “You mean... your parents didn’t give you the dog? How did you get it?”

“I rescued him from Hogsmeade.” He says, finally removing his hands from you, belatedly, you realise that you miss the warmth of his hands, goosebumps immediately racing across your skin where his skin once touched yours. “It was winter of our third year, and I found him in an alleyway behind Knockturn Alley, freezing and starving to death. I figured his previous owner must have abandoned him, so I brought him back with me to the castle... they aren’t allowed in the school, so I transfigured him to look like a cat... but he still barks sometimes and-”

“Explains your weird ass cat.” You realise, unable to believe how long you’ve been fooled for two whole years. “You mean this kind of Transfiguration in Year Three? All on your own?”

San at least has the conscience to look a little guiltily, scratching at his head awkwardly. “Well I... I did ask Mcgonagall to give me advanced lessons meant for the Year Sixes, that’s how I-”

You hold up a hand, sighing. “Okay, okay, I get it, you’re genius.” San opens his mouth to protest but then you crouch in front of Shiber, who’s still barking cheerfully, one hand coming up to scratch the fur around the ruff of his neck. “You say your parents won’t take him in? Then what do you do during winter break when you go back to your home?”

“Not home, house.” San corrects you immediately, a dark shadow crossing his face the second the words pass his lips and you feel a twinge of sympathy. Even for a Half Blood (one of the only to ever get in Slytherin, you might add) yourself, you've heard of the notoriety of the nobles and are lucky not to be one of them yourself. “Wooyoung takes him back with him to his family in the Muggle world but...” He pauses, looking slightly upset. “I don’t want to cause more trouble to his family than I already have...”

Slytherins are well known for being skilled in getting others to do what they want through any means possible. Whether it be emotional manipulation, underhanded, subtle pressurizing or completely shameless, full blown threatening, the means don’t matter, only the end. The lot of you are Slytherins, after all, and to each his own. San might be just trying to play you along like a puppet on a string, but still, you have nothing to lose by allowing him to keep his pet (you do have a weak spot for the small cat... uhh, dog).

However, you can’t just let this opportunity slide past you, it’s simply not in your nature to do so. “Well...” You drag out the word, pretending to consider this carefully and rubbing your chin. “I can’t just let you get away with doing something like this...” Your sentence trails off meaningfully and San’s eyes widen minutely, before he pauses to look at you more carefully with a guarded expression.

“What do you want from me?” He asks cautiously. Will it be money, an invitation to one of those prestigious galas that his parents host but he never wants to go to, or something even more exorbitant? Instead, you shrug carelessly. He’s a Slytherin, you’re a Slytherin. The two of you are birds of the same feather, or well, in this case, snakes of the same scale, and he knows that no Slytherin will ever in their right mind do a favour for a stranger without a reward.

“Nothing at the moment. How about you owe me a favor?” You say, with a cheeky grin, fingers reaching down to stroke your fingers through the dog’s fur. San takes a moment to think, looking down at Shiber, the dog barks happily and wags its tail at its master.

The he sighs, nods and turns to you. “Fine.” You smile triumphantly, hold out your hand, a grin playing on your lips.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

And that’s the beginning of it all.

[kell-be-belle]

Ribbon of Sunlight

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo​

Prompt: Duvet Day/Spending the Day In Bed

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Rating: General

Content Warnings: None

Summary:  While wintering in Kaer Morhen, Jaskier manages to convince Geralt to spend the day in bed. Much tenderness ensues.

Ao3

Geralt’s lashes fluttered against his cheeks, a contented hum worming its way up from his throat and out between his parted lips. He was beginning to rouse, but sleep still held him in its tenuous grasp, leaving him drifting aimlessly in the ether between. He gradually becomes aware of the warmth nestled beside him; of the weight spread across the expanse of his chest. The sensation of it all teeters precariously between just enough and too much. He cannot yet be bothered enough to decide on which direction it leans.     

Geralt had drawn the curtains last night, but apparently not with enough care. They remained parted just enough that a slim ribbon of sunlight stretches across his bed and splits him in twain. It glows red and molten behind his eyelids. Sleep finally relinquishes its hold, content to release Geralt to the day until the night returned once again. He rises to the surface of his consciousness like emerging from depths of a pond. The world swims before him as he opens his eyes, pupils contracting against the glimmer of the sun. For a moment, he feels disoriented by the juxtaposition of the dawning day and the lingering night. Panic flares like a spark in his chest in danger of catching alight.   

And then he is brought back, grounded by the weight over his chest.  

Jaskier’s deep, heated breaths snuffle into the hollow of Geralt’s collarbone. His auburn lashes quiver against Geralt’s skin with all the substance of butterfly wings. He has slotted himself into Geralt’s side, undoubtedly huddling into his peternatual heat in the cold of the tower room Geralt calls his own. Jaskier has an arm flung carelessly across his chest; has one leg bent up and hooked over the witcher’s thigh. Jaskier sleeps with all the banality of a child and it makes Geralt’s heart swell. 

Sleep still seemed to hold Jaskier firm and Geralt takes the opportunity to bask in the moment of stillness. He presses his nose into the crown of Jaskier’s mousy head. Jaskier smells of the almond oil he had rubbed into his hands the night before. Just as Geralt oiled his sword, Jaskier treated his hands with oils and scrubs and massage. They were the tools of his trade, afterall. Geralt even helped from time to time, carefully stretching his lithe fingers and kneading his palms. He had done so that night while the two of them lay basking in the tender afterglow of their love making. Geralt reached up and took Jaskier’s hand within his own. He pressed his nose into the curve of his palm and a kiss to the place where Jaskier’s pulse fluttered under the thin skin of his wrist. 

Jaskier began to stir then, mewling softly as he nuzzled deeper into the pit of Geralt’s clavicle. Geralt continued to rouse him with kisses. He kissed Jaskier’s fingertips and knuckles, each fold of his palm and the tendons of his wrist. Jaskier was waking in earnest now. The shape of his smile pressed against Geralt’s skin. “Oh…” He hummed in bliss. “I must say, this is probably amongst my most pleasant awakenings.” His voice was husky with sleep and it made Geralt chuckle. “You do spoil me so, dear heart. I am afraid I shall not wake again if it is not to this kind of tenderness.” 

“Then I shall tell the bandits that next invade our camp to hold off on robbing us so that I can kiss you awake.” Geralt quipped, his smile wry.  

Jaskier retaliated with a little nip to Geralt’s collar and it made a spike of pleasure jolt down his spine. “Now, now, don’t be a brat.” Jaskier breathed deeply, his chest expanding with the volume of his robust lungs. He released it in a hum of random melody. “What time is it? I feel as though I’ve been asleep for at least a decade.” 

Geralt’s eyes flickered to light spilling between the curtains. “Judging from the angle, it is well past dawn. Vesemir will have my head for missing morning training.” 

“I don’t think he should mind too much.” Jaskier replied. His fingers had started drumming in an aimless rhythm against Geralt’s chest. Ever a man in motion. Even in sleep Jaskier never truly settled, but as he awakened further Geralt could feel his energy beginning to thrum just under the surface of his skin. 

Geralt cocked a brow, “Have you met Vesemir? I once forgot to bring my empty dinner plate into the kitchen and he made me run laps around the keep.”    

Jaskier snorted a laugh, “Yeah, alright, I suppose the old wolf may have punishment in store for you, but this is worth it, right?” Geralt traced his fingers over Jaskier’s back, circled around the knob of each vertebrae and the sharp cut of his shoulder blade. He shivered pleasantly in Geralt’s arms. Vesemir could punish Geralt to repair the entire Eastern curtain wall with nothing, but an ice pick and still he would choose to lay here in this morning bliss. 

“Yes.” He hummed, breathing in the bittersweet scent of his love. Savoring the press of his supple skin against the jagged edges of his many scars. “Worth it.”  

Jaskier turned his head and rested his chin upon Geralt’s chest, looking up at him beneath the curve of his lashes. They shone translucent and honeyed in the sunlight. Geralt is struck by the sight of him. How many mornings had they awoken side by side and still Geralt feels like every time he looks upon his love anew. The dimples in Jaskier’s cheek deepen, preceding the smile that soon spreads over his lips. 

Geralt’s life had been long. Geralt’s life had been hard. For decades life had been a yoke about his neck and he was only sloughing through it. The next town. The next contract. The next wound. The next glare. With Jaskier in his arms all of that melted away like frost beneath the first ray of spring sun. With that glow in his eyes and that smile on his lips all of it darkened into a dream, faded to an impression, but not a memory. With Jaskier, every day dawned as a gift and it was one Geralt felt blessed to receive.

There were not enough words in Geralt’s underused tongue that could ever articulate the way he felt about Jaskier, but fortunately there was no need for them. Where his words lacked there was still feeling. It swelled in the space between them, filled the breadth of their bed, the space of the room, the expanse of the keep. It reached as far as the shores of places they had never been and would likely never see. It could stretch across the latitude of the world itself and reach them once more here in this bed tucked into the shape of each other. 

They kissed languidly in the ribbon of sunlight that peeked between the curtains. 

Jaskier settled onto Geralt’s chest once more, breathing deeply, “You know, if you’re going to piss off Vesemir, you may as well go all out. I am feeling rather comfortable and very disinclined to move as I am sure you are, too. What say you? Shall we spend our day here?” 

Geralt chuckled, “We’ll have to leave eventually, Jaskier. You get cranky when you haven’t eaten.” Jaskier nipped his collar once more in retaliation. “Do that again and I’ll have to show you how to behave.” He growls against the shell of Jaskier’s ear, fingers tightening around the meat of his thigh. 

“Oh, you tempt me so, dear heart.” He laughs breathily, wrapping his leg tighter around Geralt’s hips. “I will heartily endure your punishment, but after we have broken our fast.” Jaskier suddenly peels back the quilt and Geralt nearly whines at the loss of his weight and warmth. The swift footed shuffle the fully nude Jaskier makes to the door is quite comical and Geralt snorts at the sight of him. Jaskier waves him off as he retrieves a basket that is sitting on the floor just inside the threshold. He continues his shuffle back to the bed and dives back under the covers. Geralt folds them quickly around him before the chill of the air can sink in. 

Triumphantly, Jaskier cradles the basket in his lap, pulling up the thatched lid and presenting the contents to Geralt. It is stuffed full of food. Hard cheese and cured links of sausage. A thick loaf of black bread and small pots of honey, jam, and butter. Dried apricots and dates and two bottles of mead. Geralt turns to Jaskier with his brow arched and the bard smiles blithely; batting his honeyed lashes innocently. Geralt rolls his eyes, but fishes out a date and pops it whole into his mouth. Jaskier beams and does the same. 

The two of them settle once more into the shape of each other. They break fast with hushed laughter and shared bites and tender kisses. It is as splendid and incandescent as the ribbon of sunlight that peeks between the curtains and wraps them together.         

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 38: Resonance

A training gone wrong and a judgement gone wrong- in short, Tristan is having a very bad day, but at least Dorian is there to help. Because we all need a hug sometimes, amirite

Only part of the chapter here because of length, the rest on AO3! Or read from the beginning

The sharpened edge of his dagger flashed in the grey light of dawn. It hissed as it cut through the air, as Tristan flowed through the practiced motions. Wide arcs, precise stabs, like weaving a needle through light fabric.

Tristan took in a deep breath when he returned to his starting position, then let it out slowly. There were no other thoughts in his mind, just this: the calm of wielding his weapon, the controlled movements of its blade, the soft, barely audible hiss as it cut through the air. His consciousness shifted, sharpened, focused on that simple, lifeless object.

You are the weapon, Heir had told him the very first time he’d trained with her, and had made sure to drill the notion into him. You are the dagger.

“Again.”

He obeyed, without a word. There was no one else in the small, lower yard at that time, other than him and Heir. She was perched on the edge of the old well like a raven, her dark clothes blending with the shadows. It seemed almost unnatural, how perfectly still she sometimes sat, tricking the eye, going entirely unnoticed. She was watching him carefully as he flowed through the increasingly complex drills. A dodge and a slash for Knife in the Shadows, then a flurry of quick stabs for Hidden Blades. Once, twice, three times- he lost track of time as he practiced the same motions, again and again.

The sun was just rising over the jagged peaks of the Eastern Frostbacks when he finally stopped. Drops of sweat were running slowly down his brow, his back, his neck, but he paid them no mind as he stood before his trainer.

The elf regarded him thoughtfully, the fabric of her hood that fluttered with the wind the only moving things about her. There was no contempt in her gaze, like there usually was. She actually seemed… pleased.

“You have improved,” she said. “I am impressed.”

Tristan inclined his head in respect. “Thank you.”

A blade hissed, and he ducked only a blink of an eye before it darted past his ear. It landed on the wooden beam of the barn behind him with a thud.

“What-” He spun around to face her. “What was that for?” he demanded in surprise.

Heir uncoiled languidly from the edge of the well, landing on soundless feet. “Your body acts before your mind. That is good. Quick reflexes are what will keep you alive. But simply staying alive is not your goal.” She came to stand before him. When she lifted her eyes to his he saw genuine curiosity in them for the first time, as if she had detected something in him that she never had before. “Right now, you are the weapon. A weapon is useful. It can make the difference between life and death. But a weapon lacks intent.” She tilted her head to the side. “As do you.”

Tristan blinked at her, struggling to understand her words. “But you— you told me I was a weapon. That I have to view myself as one. That I have to be the weapon, be the dagger, in order to be an assassin.”

A small, barely perceptible smile curled her lips. “Ah, but do you always do as you are told, Inquisitor?” Before he could answer, she turned around, walking back to her seat. “I am here because you wished to train as an assassin. Yet one does not wish to be an assassin, any more than one wishes to be a sword or a cudgel. You must be your own assassin. Your own weapon. There is a difference.” She sat on the edge of the well, gathered on the smooth stone like a crow awaiting to take flight. “You still have much to learn.”

Tristan glared at her. “Months on end you teach me something, and now you change it, ask me to unlearn it and learn something else? What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Adapt.” Her eyes flashed in the morning light. “Improvise. Overcome. That is the way of the assassin.”

“This is ridiculous,” Tristan spat, flinging his dagger on the ground. Heir was watching him calmly, not an inkling of emotion in her gaze. Maker, but she was infuriating. He had had trainers for most of his life, yet none as vexing as she was. She had bid him wake up well before daybreak on the day before he was due to travel, and now all she did was mock and order him about, and throw knives at him. He straightened as he gave her his most icy glare. “I refuse to be treated thus. We need to sit down and have a talk, you and I, about what exactly it is you’ll be teaching me from now on. You have one job, and one job only: to teach me how to wield these blighted daggers as best I can. I suggest you start doing that, instead of—”

Another blade hissed past him, this time grazing the skin of his bare arm. “The way of the assassin,” Heir said with deadly calm, “is the sudden strike that overwhelms.”

Tristan ducked, then rolled out of the way of the next few knives that Heir threw his way. They all landed on the ground behind him, or the wooden beam, always just a hair away from where he was.

“An assassin does not just 'wield' a blade. An assassin does not stomp their feet in exasperation, does not barter with their target.” She sat up proudly, fixing him with a piercing look. “The assassin is the leap from the shadows and back. We hit where and when it hurts the most. In so doing, we send a message. What is the message you wish to send?”

“I’m not here to send any bloody messages!” he snapped at her as he pushed to his feet. He was panting with the exertion, but worse than that was his anger. She was winding him up on purpose, trying to make him lose his composure. “I am here to learn.”

“And learn you will. Once you open your mind.” She balanced a blade on the tip of her finger, her eyes still trained on him. “Perhaps you wish to merely walk in shadow when it suits. To prove yourself, to flaunt your skill. To save life through inflicting death.” She scoffed and shook her head. “Childish notions. The profession of assassin has no time for them.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I am not interested in becoming a professional assassin, but merely learning how to fight like one?” Tristan grumbled, wincing when he touched the razor thin cut that one of the blades had left on his shoulder.

Heir cocked her head to the side as she studied him, like a curious bird. “You are emotional. Emotions do not serve the assassin. To walk this path, you must empty yourself of everything that holds you back."

"I am not 'emotional'," Tristan huffed, rolling his eyes. "I am simply in no mood to talk nonsense. Now, can we please stop philosophising and get back to business?"

Heir only smiled at him, a small smile that never reached her eyes. She had this way of looking at him that made him feel as if he were a spoilt and unruly child. Without a word, she stood up and walked away.

“Where are you going?”

“Our training for today is over, Inquisitor,” she told him over her shoulder. “We will resume when you get back from the Dales. I suggest you think about what we talked about today while you’re away.”

Tristan gritted his teeth as he watched Heir’s retreating form. He pushed his damp hair out of his face as he strode to the well, the old and rusted pulley whining softly as he hauled a bucket of water. It was ice cold when he splashed some on his face and neck, making his skin prickle.

His pulse was still thumping in his temples, the annoyance that had sparked within him still sizzling. He couldn’t understand how it was possible for someone to infuriate him so, with nothing but a few words. She was impossible, maddening; she made his blood boil, and he yet again wondered what Leliana had been thinking when he called her to Skyhold. He was starting to think it was all some elaborate ruse to make him start his days always on the wrong foot. Heir had a way of doing that, most days, and by the Maker, she did it well.

“‘Emotional’,” he echoed with disdain, before gulping down several mouthfuls of water. He was not emotional. He was fine— no, he was more than fine. Perfectly composed. Perhaps a little bit more… on edge than usual, snapping at people left and right, but that was to be expected. He was the Inquisitor, he had a lot on his mind, and while most people around him seemed to understand this well and give him some leeway, no one truly grasped the pressure he was under, what he was up against. And after what had happened the other night...

Maker, but he was tired. He couldn’t remember the last time he had had a decent night’s sleep. The previous night he had only been able to close his eyes and doze off for a few moments before the whispers had started, just at the edges of his hearing, and strange images flickered behind his eyelids. He had spent the rest of the night drifting in and out of consciousness, or staring at the ceiling, listening to Dorian’s rhythmic breathing beside him. That, at least, was his only comfort.  

~

Tristan’s mood hadn't improved much by the time he walked back to the keep. It was a good thing, at least, that the throne room was still empty at that hour. No one wanted to be the first to arrive and wait for the others, and the nobles were not known to be early risers anyway. Right at that moment, Tristan envied them something fierce.

He sighed quietly when he finally reached the door to his quarters. Maighdin and Nhudem took their positions at either side of his door, beside the two guards that were constantly stationed outside it. The elf, Mathras, was an archer and skilled with his daggers. The other one, a tall and dark-haired Orlesian —Jean-Claude was his name, if Tristan remembered correctly— seemed to be there more so to gawk at the pretty noble women who batted their eyelashes at him, than to actually guard him. Even though Cullen had assured him they’d been the best in their groups, and thoroughly vetted by Leliana, Tristan still eyed them warily. They were strangers to him, and he did not like strangers. Besides, he still didn’t know what to think about the fact that Cullen seemed bent on increasing his guard every few days, as if Tristan were made of gold and walking through Ostwick's dock market district after sundown.

“Harrit has made some new armour for me,” he turned to Nhudem after he’d greeted them all as formally as was permitted. Him, at least Tristan knew he could trust. He’d known him since Haven, and had saved his life. If anyone was there to truly guard him, it was him. In truth, Tristan was quite fond of him, despite his peculiar insistence on asking for his blessing every so often. This, Tristan could well do without. “One of his apprentices should be stopping by to leave it later, see him up as soon as he arrives.”

“As you wish, Your Worship.” Nhudem inclined his head respectfully, then stood straight once more. The Rivaini had not been his usual cheerful self ever since Tristan had returned from Crestwood. Perhaps it was the fact that Tristan had walked in on his midnight tryst with a washerwoman two nights before that had the man averting his eyes now. Tristan had thought about telling Leliana about it, yet now, as he ascended the stairs to his quarters, he found himself second-guessing that decision. His guards were people, too, regardless of the fact that Tristan little cherished their company. They had a job to do, as did he.

His job and all its complications faded away when he reached the stair landing, and gazed upon his bed, at the figure that lay amidst the rumpled sheets. Dorian had not woken up yet; he was sleeping as soundly as ever Tristan had seen him, clutching Tristan’s pillow close to his chest. The skin of his bare arm was warm, smooth like silk under Tristan’s lips when he placed a light kiss on it, then another, and another, following the curve of his shoulder, burying his face in the crook of his neck. He inhaled deeply, letting Dorian’s scent suffuse him, fill him to the brim: oakmoss, sandalwood, toasted cardamom, him.

“Sweaty,” Dorian hummed as he petted Tristan’s head, still half asleep.

“I was training.”

“With whom?”

“The elf that has apparently made it her life’s purpose to torment me.”  

Dorian chuckled warmly, turning to catch Tristan’s lips in a kiss. “Dramatic, as always.” He hummed as he kissed him, stretching his arms languidly over his head. The arms then linked behind Tristan’s neck to pull him close.

Tristan sighed, leaning into that embrace. He had things to do, he had places to be, yet nothing was more important than this. This: being with him, kissing him, gazing upon him when he first opened his eyes each morning. Nothing was better than this. Tristan never thought he’d see the day, but he actually looked forward to leaving Skyhold and his many and varied duties behind. On the road, things were simpler, and there was usually nothing calling him out of bed each morning before Dorian had even awoken. They slept together and woke up together, had their meals together, fought together. That last part he could well do without, but everything had its purpose. At least, that was what he chose to tell himself.

“I should get up, too,” Dorian said softly, pulling back. His eyes were still heavy with sleep, several strands of wavy hair falling across his brow, the lines from the pillow marking his cheek. Tristan was sure he had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Stay,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss him again. “We have time.”

“We do, albeit very little, and I still have to go back to my room to gather the last of my things for our trip before I work on as much of my research as I can.”

“Just toss some clothes in a bag and you’re done. I’ve taken care of the rest.” Tristan’s hand slithered underneath the blankets to smooth down Dorian’s sides, but it was promptly caught and brought back up amidst laughing protests.

“Are you mad? Have you any idea how long it takes to properly fold clothes for traveling? And no, I can’t just ‘toss some clothes in a bag’ and call it a day. The gall.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “You might have servants to prepare your bags and your travelling gear, my dear, but I do not. Some of us still need to do those things ourselves, and I will not— I repeat, I will not spend the duration of our trip in wrinkled robes.”

“What if they are? You’ll look dashing, wrinkled robes or no. Come.” Tristan flashed him his most winning smile. “Stay.”

Dorian gazed at him for a moment, evidently contemplating Tristan’s offer, when he shook his head abruptly. “No. No, no. Enough with your distractions.” Dorian swatted him away, rolling out of his embrace. “It’s enough that I have to do the walk of shame from your quarters to my room each day in wrinkled clothes, I won’t be doing it during our mission too. I have a certain reputation to keep, after all.”

Tristan leaned back on his elbows with a sigh, watching Dorian as he gathered his clothes from the floor, his smooth skin prickling in the chill air. Layer after layer was put on; his linen trews, his undershirt, the silk shirt, his soft leather trousers that hugged his form so elegantly, the swaths of cream coloured fabric that he arranged over it all with belts and straps. Each piece more intricate than the last, yet all part of a carefully arranged whole.

“Why don’t you bring them here?” he asked.

“Bring what here?”

“Your things.”

Dorian froze in the act of securing a bright golden pin on his shoulder. “I beg pardon?”

“Your things.” At Dorian’s reticent stare, Tristan continued. “Your clothes, your shoes, your gear… your books. Your scrolls. You know. Things.”

Dorian tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly just as a small, curious smile widened his lips. “And why would I do that?”

“If you brought your clothes here, they would be ready to wear in the morning. No wrinkles. No walk of shame to your room. You could just… wear them and go about your business. We would have more time together in the mornings, too. And in the evenings. There wouldn’t be half a keep separating us. We could…” Tristan let his words trail off when he noticed Dorian’s incredulous expression. “What? What did I say?”

“I… I don’t know. What are you saying?” His silver gaze had never left him; it was on him, piercing him to the bone. “Are you saying what I think you're saying? Are you... suggesting we venture into mutual domesticity?”

Tristan paused, considering his words for a moment. “I never thought of it like this, but now that you said it, I think so, yes.”

Dorian’s eyes widened, then he shook his head slowly. “Mad,” he said under his breath as he turned to face the mirror once more, fastening the pin on his shoulder. “I had my doubts before, but now I am certain: you are out of your mind.” He gasped when Tristan grabbed his hand and drew him back to the bed.

“That is a serious accusation, serah,” he said teasingly. He pinned him down on the mattress and leaned down until their noses touched. “One that needs to be spoken in one’s face.”

“Very well, then.” Dorian quirked a brow at him, utterly unfazed. “You are insane.”

“How so?”

“Are you seriously suggesting I move in here? With you?”

“Why not? You’re here most of the time.”

“Yes, but I don’t live here, I just sleep here. And wake up here. And have some of my meals here, occasionally. It is not the same as living here. It is not!” he insisted when Tristan laughed.

“So? You’ll be doing those same things, only you’ll be more comfortable doing them. I don’t see the issue.”

“You don’t see the issue? You don’t —” Dorian huffed and fixed him with a pointed look. “What will your advisors say?”

“What’s it to them?” Tristan frowned down at him. “What’s it to anyone?”

“You are a public figure, amatus.” Dorian’s expression was stern, though his voice was softer now. “All eyes in Thedas are on you. What will people say if they see me moving in and out of your quarters this freely, if they see me bringing my belongings here?”

“I don’t care what people say. All I care about is you. If anyone says anything about it, I’ll fight them.” He widened his eyes dramatically. “You know I will. I’ll snap them like twigs. I’m strong, you know, even Heir admitted it.”

Dorian let out a quiet laugh, the rich and mellow sound warming Tristan to his core. His gaze was soft as it glided over his features now. “You mean it?” he asked quietly. “Do you really mean it?”

“I do.” Tristan leaned down to capture his lips in a slow, gentle kiss. “I like it when you’re here,” he whispered. “I want to be with you, Dorian. As much as I can. There’s nothing I want more.”

Dorian sighed into their kiss, his fingers slipping through Tristan’s and twining with them. “I want that, too.” Those silver eyes that Tristan would gladly drown in looked up at him through his long eyelashes. “Alright. I may bring some of my things here… for a start. Just a few, mind you,” he added hastily when a wide grin broke over Tristan’s face. “I certainly won’t be hauling all my belongings here overnight. Just a few changes of clothes. And some pomade. Perhaps some of my books, too. And that’s it! I mean it. That will be all.”

“Anything you like,” Tristan hummed, deepening the kiss. “Anything at all.”

They kissed for a long while; just this, just lips gliding gently against each other, their breaths mingling until he couldn’t tell them apart. A strange sort of warmth had spread over him, one that he had never felt before. Never before had he felt more comfortable, more connected with anyone. It was a strange sort of feeling, one that left him breathless, as much as it tethered him to a part of him that he had thought lost long before. The part of him that trusted unconditionally, that fought for what he wanted, held it close to his heart.

He would hold Dorian as close as he could. For as long as he could. As long as he would let him.

~

Soon after Dorian had left to gather the last of his clothes and travelling gear, Tristan’s own armour arrived. He had just stepped out of the bath that two servants had drawn for him, water pooling around his feet and his towel wrapped around his hips when Harrit’s apprentice brought it. For a set of armour that Tristan had requested at a day’s notice, it was not only sturdy and well-made, but pleasing to the eye as well, made to measure and form fitting to allow for ease of movement.

He set it carefully on his bed, admiring the elegant stitching and the hidden compartments for blades, daggers and potions he had requested for a brief moment before putting on his regular clothes. A crisp white shirt -thankfully with untangled laces-, his leather breeches, a dark blue coat with fine thread of silver embroidery along the sleeves and the lapels. Simple, clean, understated, yet still imposing. Looking his best was of the essence, especially for what he was about to do.

He had just finished pulling on his tall black boots when he heard Maighdin’s heavy bootsteps ascending the stairs.

“Ready, Your Worship?”

Tristan glanced at himself in the mirror one last time, taking in a deep breath. A light crease of worry was set between his eyebrows; he smoothed it out before turning around. Maighdin gave him a small nod, which was vaguely encouraging.

He was ready.

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