#I think fox should be terrible at space snake

[piggeon]

ummm this guy

[sombreboy]

the alpha⇢hybrid!pjm

⤍18+ ⤍pairing: wolf!hybrid Jimin x human!female reader ⤍genre: pwp smut, hybrid, stranger fuck ⤍word count: 8.5k ⤍warnings: sub!y/n, dom!pjm, profanity, drinking, blowjob, jimin’s compliment kink knows no bounds, he calls you little lamb a lot, degdrading names, unprotected sex, creampie/knotting, light impreg kink, mating, rough fucking, licking, torrential downpour of cum.

A/N: Co-written with lovely @ppersonna​ as an rp. ♡

So why were you dressed up like a bitch in heat, entering the exact club you tried so hard to avoid? Because, deep down, it’s all you wanted. You knew that deep down you desired someone strong and powerful, someone superior to you, to take and claim you as their own—their plaything.

The city never sleeps. A saying that has been true for the past century, and it remains true til this day, where humans and hybrids now coexist as equals. Well, as equal as it gets. Hybrids were a superior species with their mixed genetics, gaining attributes from said animals that they have in them. Whether it be stronger bodies, beautiful patterns and physical alterations– they were seen as the greater species. But yet humans managed to keep up, somewhat. It wasn’t that much different. Park Jimin is one of those hybrids. His genetics were intertwined with that of a white wolf, giving his hair a bright blonde color. However, he had it dyed not too long ago, so the color was instead a washed out purple mixed into his blonde curls. His irises were a bright orange, pupils as black as the leather jacket and pants he wore. One wouldn’t think he looked terribly intimidating at a first glance, but his stare could make anybody feel a shiver run down their spine from the sheer intensity of it.

He was the alpha, after all.

Jimin spent every single night at a nightclub that was famous specifically for being dominated by the predatory hybrids. Lions, tigers, snakes, foxes… Wolves. Jimin’s pack was the hybrids that people came for most of the time.For what, you may ask? To get thoroughly fucked without mercy, of course. But that was only possible if you caught their interest, or you’d have to settle for the snake.

Jimin’s pack consisted of three other wolf hybrids… Hoseok, the beta. Which practically means he’s one rank below Jimin, who is the leader. The other two hybrids are Namjoon and Yoongi, who are one rank below Hoseok, making them the deltas. They don’t care, they are content to just follow along with what their leader says, but are often given their own choice to do however they please either way. Together, they form quite the diverse group, and they were notorious and alluring for newcomers and common faces.

Jimin loved it, the dark, crowded underground venue, flashing lights, alcohol… And humans. More often than not, only hybrid women came by. Rich ones. Easy to spot. But what truly had the wolf riled up, was when a human would stumble in. Their scent was an entirely different game. He allowed his pack to separate, but never going too far as they headed to find their own prey for the night, while Jimin himself remained still, leaning against the bar counter with a pink, sugary drink in his hand, straw tightly pressed between his plushy, glossy lips.

It was time to hunt.

~

You weren’t sure what came over you—what drew you to the idea of leaving your cozy and safe, structured life and entering the dark unknown. The nightclub was somewhere you previously steered clear of, even crossed the street to avoid being next to it when walking by. It was decidedly not your scene, and the idea of the strong, intuitive hybrids sent a chill down your spine.

So why were you dressed up like a bitch in heat, entering the exact club you tried so hard to avoid? Because, deep down, it’s all you wanted. You stayed away from it like a drug. You knew the moment you gave in, you’d sink down the black hole into utter depravity. You knew that deep down you desired someone strong and powerful, someone superior to you, to take and claim you as their own—their plaything. It was hard to be confident in such a stifling environment. Your tight little crop top covered only the barest of your modesty, and the tight skirt accentuated your curves. The confidence you felt in the mirror of your apartment soon dissipated as you walked into the loud club. You could feel the hungry stares, the intense eyes of all the men and women in the place.

You didn’t know who or what you were looking for—rather, hoping they would find you instead. You craved the idea of giving up your power, your control to someone who could hold it over you and force you into submission. The thought made your core burn with need. The bartender slid your simple cocktail towards you with a wink as you settled into the stool awkwardly, trying to appear much stronger than the scared little human you were. You knew they all could smell it on you—the mixture of fear and arousal. So many of them approached you, attempted to charm their way inside you, but none of them felt right. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe you should have stayed home. You can’t help but feel a burn of shame and disappointment as you chug your drink as quickly as you can to make a desperate dash towards the door.

Your nervous eyes skittered around the room, watched as each ravenous alpha eye-fucked you. It was terrifying, intimidating. It cemented just how wrong you were to come here, until— he came into view. Your breath nearly collapsed in your lungs as you took in the vision of the lavender haired man. He was gorgeous. Not just attractive but ethereal in his visage. Your pupils dilated, heart rate increased as you stared at him. You were blatant in your gaze, unable to wrench your eyes elsewhere. He was simply the most captivating man you’ve ever seen in your life, and your body burned with desperate need for him. After moments of desperate staring, you finally shake yourself off and peer down at your empty drink. Was it him? What was so magnetic about the lithe man? Could he be the one to finally claim what you needed to give up? Your cheeks burned with a mixture of shame and need, hoping that he didn’t notice your blatant ogling. Fuck.

Jimin’s fiery gaze flickered to meet yours the very second he felt your eyes on him, straw still tightly sucked between his lips. He crooked a coy eyebrow at you as he pushed himself up from his leaning position to stand upright, no hesitation in his bones in the way he slowly sauntered over to you. His hips swayed in a light strut, mesmerizing in every sense of the word; the predatory genes within giving him these very traits to be alluring for it’s prey. And it seemed to be working, with the way your eyes were glued on him. He stopped when he was right in front of you, giving just enough space for him to be able to observe your fit from top to bottom, but close enough for you to smell his distinct scent. Sweet, calming– arousing. His natural pheromones didn’t leave anybody unaffected, even turning heads on his way, eyes wide with both surprise and envy that the alpha had approached… well, you. “How refreshing with a new face.” Jimin’s canary voice was sweet, yet it had an undertone of a light growl. His canines poked out as he smiled, plush upper lip curling up to showcase his pearly whites further.

Your blush furthered a deeper shade of rose as he approached. Fuck. He definitely saw you staring. The power in his gaze and strut over to you screamed alpha. Hopefully he wasn’t the kind to bite and then ask questions. You’d unfortunately run into that type before.

The blood in your veins pulsed hard, skyrocketing your nerves. He looked so good. It was almost unfair that someone so fucking beautiful existed. You felt small and plain in comparison to the gorgeous man. His whole being exuded sultry command. You nibbled at your bottom lip as he sauntered up to you. Your body was reacting already to his presence, his voice. The entire club was staring at you, curious of the exchange that would happen between the exquisite man and you, the nervous little human. “I-,” you struggled to answer. If he wasn’t aware of how nervous you were before, he would be now—surely. “I don’t really come to these types of places.”

Try as you might, you couldn’t stop staring at the man’s gorgeous pout and terrifyingly attractive teeth. Your heart beat pounded hard in your head, overpowering the loud beat of music.

“D-do you come here often?” You asked, hoping to be polite despite the pooling arousal and growing fear.

Jimin’s smile slowly morphed into a wolfish grin, the apple of his cheeks puffing up until his eyes were shaped like small crescent moons. He almost looked harmless and inviting. “Cute…” he mused under his breath before he took a daring step closer to you, his hand reaching out to gently run his fingers through the piece of stray hair that had fallen forward over your face. He brought the locks to his nose, inhaling deeply. A low rumble vibrated in his chest.. You smelled divine. Even through the shampoo and possible product, he could smell your scent behind it all. “Yeah, I come here, every. single. night…” Jimin winked before withdrawing his hand to let it settle on his hip, his stance powerful and graceful. His dark pupils quivered when he raked down your body for a second time, the wolf ears sticking out from his hair flickering with curiosity. “Why are you here, little lamb?” He cooes at you, licking his upper teeth as he steps closer. He had no problem hearing you through the booming music, but how would you know? It gave him more of an excuse to get closer. “Looking like that?” Of course he knew why. He could smell why. But it was of no news that Jimin loved to play with his prey, ramp up the anxiety until he could practically taste it on his tongue.

Your heart thumped so loud in your chest you were sure all of the club could hear it. If they couldn’t, they definitely could smell the thrum of anxiety pulsing through you. His voice sizzled in your veins, erupting into flames as it enveloped you. Then, he touched you. The simple act of moving your hair had your mind reeling. You could smell him—he was so close you wanted to bury your face in his chest and breathe deeply. His question caught you off guard. Why were you here? Did you even know the answer to that? Your cherry cheeks flushed and you ducked your head, trying to avoid his sultry and tempting gaze. He continued to get closer and it made you tremble with a mix of fright and need. His power was overwhelming, and all you wanted to do was kneel for him.

“I’m—…not quite sure,” you spoke truthfully as you took another sip of your rapidly melting drink. “I’ve never been here before. I think I wanted something… scary.” Your big doe eyes sought out his, so mystifying with their exotic color and shape. He was truly so gorgeous it made your mouth salivate. You squirmed in your seat, suddenly feeling self conscious of your outfit. “My friend told me I should wear something sexy.” Your cheeks were so hot, so embarrassed by how easily you wanted to give into the terrifyingly attractive alpha. “I’m wondering if maybe this was a bad idea…”

 Although the music around them was blaring, it felt like a long moment of silence dragged on between the two when Jimin didn’t answer for a hot second. He kept his stare fixed on your face, the small expressions of embarrassment, curiosity, and purity drew him in. He’s truly never encountered a human like you before. One that dared to come here despite being so… weak. It was like you were begging to be eaten, dangling like a fresh piece of the finest meat in front of all these hungry predators. Jimin could hear it, the rumbling growls and groans of men in the room, hoping that the alpha wolf would lose interest and leave a piece for them to get a taste.

“Scary?” He suddenly chirped, his smile more of a smirk at this point as he placed his drink on the bar counter, ice jumping in the glass from the harsh clonk. He bent forward to shamelessly brush his cheek against yours, a subtle way of rubbing his scent off on your skin, knowing it’d avert some of the attention around him– he’s already begun to claim you for himself. His hot breath fanned your ear as he spoke.

“I can smell your lust for fear, little lamb… Do I scare you?” Jimin’s hand softly snaked down the curve of your hip, smoothing his ring-clad fingers down your thigh until he was greeted by your scorching skin. He squeezed the flesh between his digits, cold rings digging into your thigh as he exhaled another hot, quivering breath against your neck, loving the way your scent was slowly mixing with his own.

The man’s simple action of brushing his cheek against your own had your body seizing up. You could smell him as he rubbed his soft skin on yours—a heady mix of something fruity and something naturally luscious. It embarrassed you to know how arousing his simple act had been. You chided yourself internally for feeling your body heat at his gentle action. You licked your lips as he whispered hot words into your ear, making a tingle travel down your spine.

“Y-yes,” you murmured. “You scare me more than anyone h-here.” His hands gripping your thigh made a quiet moan escape your lips. It was desperate. You felt overstimulated and yet so desperate to be touched by the terrifying alpha. Suddenly feeling emboldened, your hands gripped at his sides, slipping under his expensive shirt to touch at the toned skin of his obliques and anchoring yourself to him there.

Jimin’s hand flew down to wrap his fingers around your small wrist, blunt nails digging into your soft skin. His hand on your thigh swiftly withdrew, and the loss of his warmth had you internally whining for more. “Did I say you could touch me?” His voice wasn’t hostile, yet it oozed with the asserting of his dominance. “You’re a daring girl.” He smiles at you, the contrast between his hungry gaze and his softly curved lips was confusing to say the least– but there was no doubt that he was not the kind to simply allow anything without permission.

The alpha’s sudden movement and grip on your hand made you squeal with fright—eyes widening and heart stopping its beat in your chest. Your mouth ran dry. Your terror coursed through you with the distinct tang of need. His dominance made you even more desperate. “I’m sorry,” you peeped quietly, itching to move your fingers away in case it angered him further but also needing to feel his tender skin underneath you once more. “I didn’t mean—..” you stuttered as you felt brave enough to peer up in his enchanting eyes. His smile was comforting but the hungry gaze in his stare had you trembling. Jimin cupped your cheek, hushing you with reassurance– although he seemed way too amused with the way you were practically shaking underneath his touch.

“Breathe. We’re all here to have a good time.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb across your lower lip, noting just how dry it had become. He decided to order another set of drinks, handing one to you that was the same pink shade as the one he got for himself. “Drink.” He didn’t ask, but he commanded you to accept his offer.

You were powerless to deny any demand the man made. Even if he had asked, you’d still be eating out of the palm of his hand like a terrified and starved pet. His thumb on your lips made you ache to open and accept his digit in your mouth, swirl your tongue around it teasingly. Your eyes sought his—hoping you could portray some of the arousal you felt over your innocent fright. You took a sip—a large one in hopes of lowering your frightened inhibitions to open up more to the beautiful man. “Mmm—,” you hummed as your eyes fluttered to close. “This is delicious.” It was sweet on your tongue, but not cloyingly. It warmed you and made your body loose.

“It’s my favorite.” Jimin agreed, already half way through his own. The entire time he kept his eyes trained on your lips, the darkening color on your cheeks from the heat that both alcohol and his proximity provided. When finished, he stretched his back with a light pop, the shirt he’s wearing underneath the jacket lifting just enough for the prominent V-line that snaked down his pants teasingly on display. His visuals were unmatched. He took off his jacket, leaving it unattended by the counter. No one would dare to touch it anyway, the leather oozing of his distinct scent. Only somebody with a death wish would. He combed his fingers through his hair, licking his lower lip clean form the residue sugar from this drink. His ears perked up when the lights dimmed further, and a new song came into play, booming through the speakers that caused a pleasant vibration to pulse through the building.

“I love this song.” Jimin reached for your arm to tug you out of the chair with him towards the crowded dance floor. As per usual, there was no question of whether you wanted to or not, but with a few drinks, and his intoxicating presence, it didn’t seem too bad. For Jimin, this was just part of his foreplay. He brought you into the crowd, tightly packed with all kinds of scents and musks. But the only one he could smell was yours, slowly morphing with his own as he placed his hands on your hips from behind, nose brushing against your neck as he inhaled. “Feel that? The beat?” He growled into your ear, swaying his hips along with the way he moved yours back and forth.

The music, once quiet and unassuming to you, now became loud and matched the beat of your heart. The alpha was dragging you towards the dance floor and in the midst of the hungry crowd, staring at you from where they rubbed up against each other. Just as you were trying to understand where to move, how to adjust your body to the dance, he pressed himself up behind you and gripped your hips. You could feel your pulse running through your veins and the way his touch electrified your skin. “Y-yeah,” you murmured as your hips began to move without thought. They easily swayed with the man’s guidance and you shivered as his nose pressed into your neck. It was like he couldn’t get enough of your scent, your being. The man’s hyper fixation on you had your core drenched—and you knew he could likely smell just how aroused for him you were. You let your eyes close and follow his guiding hold on your body, your ass pressing back against him to rub and grind along his length. It seemed the alphas drink was bringing you ever so gently out of your shell. “Mmm, I feel the beat right here.”

“Fuck, you smell good…” Jimin growled into your ear, his claw-like grip on your hips tightening to keep you in place as he pressed his hips right back against your ass, his cock prominent through the thin layer of his leather pants. It pulsed with every beat of his heart, it was driving him near insanity to practically taste your arousal on his tongue along with the overwhelming smell. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?” He huffed, tastefully biting your earlobe as one hand smoothed down your thigh to tug at the hem of your dress, unbothered to the fact that other hybrids were spying on them. He wanted them to see the way he got to have you, and they don’t. The way you were oozing with lust for the alpha, the pungent arousal of yours surely drove not just Jimin feral, but every single hybrid in the venue. And no one could say a fucking thing.

It was hard to hold back the peeps of surprise and arousal as you felt the alpha’s growing cock against you. Your body instinctively continued to rub and further agitate the hardening length to fully erect. When you felt his hands on you, your body reacted. You knew your cunt was oozing, likely soaking the satin panties underneath your tight skirt and soon to drip down your leg in a sign of utter submission and need to the alpha behind you. “Y-yes,” you whined. “I n-need you.” The admittance was shameless–the alcohol and lowered inhibitions making it easier for you to admit your desires to the man without regret. You could sense that he was showing you off and you complied, allowed the man to present you to everyone in the club who stared with bloodlust for you. “Please,” you gasped, not quite sure of what you were asking for other than him–more him. “Please, take me.”

Jimins wolfish grin grew against your skin before he swiftly grabbed you by your wrist to pull you with him, guiding the two of you towards privacy. Normally, he’d take his prey to the back, or even home… but there was an urgency within him that was too strong to ignore, there was no time– he needed to claim you now. So he pulled you into the bathroom close by, slamming your back against the wall with a thud the moment the door closed behind you. His heavy breaths were laced with small grunts as he crashed his pillowy lips against yours, hands greedily peeling the skirt of your dress up to expose your ass for him to harshly grab onto, squeezing the soft flesh between his ring clad fingers until it protruded between his digits, sharp nails digging into your delicate skin. “Fuck, you drive me crazy, little lamb.” Jimin hisses between hot kisses, the vibrating growl in his chest growing louder as he bites down on your lower lip to draw more innocent whines from your sweet throat. “Every single male in there wishes they could mate with you, shit… the male pheromones were off the roof, they’re all gonna jerk off to the memory of this–” one of his hands cupped your pussy through your soaked panties, dragging his palm to feel the damp fabric stain his skin. “Of how delicious your cunt smells… it’s like a fucking drug.”

Your eyes widened as the strong and sensual man dragged you from the dance floor to the bathroom. The same terror that once pulled through you now flooded every sense. Had you done something wrong? Was he going to harm you? Your worries were sucked up the second he pressed his lips to yours hungrily. Kissing him was like standing too close to a fire. He was hot, so hot, and before you knew it, you’d be engulfed in his hot, licking flames. His hands felt like palpable sin in your flesh and you needed more. “Please,” you whimpered as his hands cupped at your core. You knew you were a mess—dripping with shameless need for the alpha. The kisses turned deeper as you allowed his tongue entrance into your mouth and sought purchase in his own. Your hands stayed by your sides, itching to touch him but remembering his previous warning. “Please, let me touch you. Anywhere.” It felt like you were dying and the only cure was him—any bit of him on you and underneath your fingertips. “Ahh—,” you whined as his hand continued his assault on your cunt. “It’s a-all for you. I don’t want anyone else, only you.”

Jimin’s auburn gaze glowed as he pulled back from the kiss, his pointy canines poking out as he smiled. “You want to touch me?” He purred as he pressed your body harder back against the wall with his own, gliding the pads of his fingers up and down your clothed slit until he feels the swell of your clit through your panties, only to give it extra attention by circling his digits with just enough pressure. Not enough to satisfy, but not enough to not drive you crazy. “You don’t get to touch me until I say so… But don’t worry, good behavior will be rewarded.” Jimin added with his lighter tone of voice, leaning in to nudge your chin to the side with his nose– like a dog would. He softly grazes the skin of your neck with his nose, lips; a deep inhale through his nostrils triggered a vibrating rumble in his throat, and a prominent, heavy throb in his pants. “We’re not in a rush.” He whispered against your neck before placing open mouthed kisses down your skin until he reached the slope of your neck, feeling as his cock grew harder– the more aggressive his kisses became. From soft pecks, to messy sucking, surely painting your delicate skin with splashes of purple.

Feeling the man all over your body and being denied to touch was maddening, but deliciously so. His fingers dipped into your slit and teased so delicately that you thought you might cry if he didn’t give you something soon. Your moans turned into desperate whines and gasps as you allowed him to continue his thorough torture of your clit. Kissing him felt like sin, like heaven and hell. He was everything you wanted—everything you sought after when you stepped foot into the very club you now were being thoroughly debauched in. His cock felt heavy and thick against you and it made you whisper against his lips in arousal and desperation. He trailed down your body and you let out a shaky moan as you felt his sharp incisors suckle and nip at the delicate skin. “Use me,” you begged gently. “P-Please, make me yours.”

Your hips ground against his, rubbing against his hardened length as much as you could to alleviate the burn between your thighs. “Fuck, I want you so bad, please sir.”

“Such a good girl, asking so nicely.” Jimin’s low voice resembled a mix between his natural voice and a growl, the raspyness of it forcing a chill running down your spine, reminding you that he was indeed not human, but a hungry predator. Which is exactly what he was– well, it’s a part of him he only indulges in on nights like these, in a place like this. Who he was outside of these walls, nobody truly knew. His fingers curled around the fabrics of your panties to swiftly rip them off, carelessly discarding them to the dirty floor. Now exposed, your scent was stronger than ever. He shamelessly inhaled through his nose, eyes fluttering in pleasure, feeling the droplets of precum staining his swollen tip underneath the restraining pants.

“Still reconsidering whether coming here was a good or bad idea?” He asks through his breathy voice as he pulled back to look at your needy expression, all while his hands casually reach down to undo his pants, slowly peeling the leather down his hips. His cock sprung up proudly, drooling with arousal down his glistening skin, a content sigh pushing past his plushy lips. “Hm? You like it?” Jimin’s piercing gaze flickered between his cock and your face, grabbing the shaft with his hand. “Want a taste? All you have to do is drop to your knees on the filthy floor…”

Everything about the man radiated power. He mystified you. He even looked beautiful, gorgeous rather, under the harsh fluorescent lights. You were sure you would follow him off the edge of a cliff if he told you to. You didn’t know his name but you didn’t need to, he had you between his delicate fingers. Your breath hitched as he ripped your soaked panties off your body. The cool air of the bathroom was startling against your heated cunt. It made you gasp out loud. “I-I think it was a good idea,” you gulped. Your eyes were big, pleading and needy as you peered into his own. He had you completely under his spell.

Your mouth watered as the man pushed his skintight pants down and exposed his length to you. It was perfect. Thick and long and curved just right that made your core ache for him. You dropped to your knees without hesitation, ignoring the way the wet floor felt against your body. The floor was disgusting but nothing would stop you from pleasing the alpha. You shimmied your skirt up your body, allowing your bare ass and cunt to be exposed to the open air as you knelt before him.

“Please.” The word was becoming your prayer, repeated to the god above you to grant you your blessings. You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue—an obedient little dog in heat. You wanted nothing more than to take him in your mouth without warning but you knew now to wait. You wanted to please the alpha so badly.

Jimin’s eyes darkened immensely at the gorgeous view beneath him, the fiery color of his irises barely visible for they were practically blackened out. If there was something the alpha adored, it was to look down on his prey, being begged to use them as he pleased. You were the perfect plaything for him. “So pretty.” He cooed, a small smile curling up on his upper lip to expose his pointy teeth. He gave his cock a few lazy strokes, his other hand gently combing through your hair before he abruptly curls his fingers to tug at it. He drew you in closer to his red, dripping length as he kept stroking it, eyes not even blinking once as he stared down at you. “Can’t wait to pump you full of my cum… Fuck, such a slut for my cock already.” His words grew filthier the more aroused he became. His patience ran low, so he guided the tip of his drooling cock to your lips, tugging your hair to draw you even closer to take his length down your throat. “Only good girls can take it all. You’re a good girl, aren’t you? Come on…”

The intensity of the alphas gaze made you shiver on the sodden ground and you could tell your cunt was dripping, likely even dripping down onto the very same floor. The bite of pain in your hair stung as he gripped you, but it sizzled and burned until it added to the overall sensation and made your nipples harden in delight. You breathed in deep, steeling yourself as his length came closer. His salacious words made you tremble and ooze with excitement. You wanted nothing more than to be a vessel, a hole for him to wrench pleasure from. His length was warm and dripping with precum. It felt so thick and heavy on your tongue as he continued to push it in. You audibly moaned as you felt it push past your uvula. He was so thick and tasted like salt and sweetness. You let your lips close and wrap around him as you took him to the hilt. You flicked your eyes up to him, shining with tears of strain from the thickness choking your throat. You wanted to prove how good you were, how well you could take him.

After a moment of holding his length as deep as it could go, you pulled back slightly to begin a bobbing motion as you sucked greedily on his cock. Saliva pooled around your lips as you drew him in and out, and the sounds you made sucking could be heard over the thumping of the bar music. You wanted to prove yourself to the alpha, show him you could be more than just a one time type of girl. You wanted him to claim you forever.

“Oh, fuck yes…” Jimin’s pillowy lips parted in initial surprise, but quickly he bit back his low groan as it rumbled in his chest. He knew you were needy, but he didn’t expect you to be so greedy to suck him off. And being so good at it on top of being eager to please– it was oddly new. Normally, every past experience of his was not like this, but more like him doing every piece of the work for a ragdoll, so watching you work his cock so willingly, attentive to his own reactions and pleasure in a different way…. It hit something in him that only riled him up further than anybody had ever done previously.

“Deeper. Gag on it, make it messy.” His chest heaved up and down heavily, deep huffs through his nose displaying just how good he feels in between the low moans, no shame in showcasing how good it feels. He presses his back against the wall, craning his neck to get a good look of the way your lips stretched around his thick shaft. “I can hear your cunt dripping… Can scent it, god, it smells divine. Your insides must be aching for me.” He murmurs as he drives his hips forward a bit rougher to meet your movements, eager to feel your throat constrict around him when he hits too far down your throat. “Coat your fingers in your juices, little lamb. Show me.”

The praise made you preen, and even more desperate to prove your worth to the man. His cock was so big inside your mouth it was hard to keep yourself from gagging, but you worked against it and continued to suck and slurp down his length. You obeyed every order, and slicked him up until your mouth was squelching with saliva around him and it dripped from your face like a tap. You whined around his length as you obeyed, keeping up a pace as you buried a hand down to your exposed core. You nearly gasped at the feeling. You were absolutely soaked and dripping with anticipation. Your fingers swirled in the wetness and coated you easily. You desperately wanted to touch your clit and play with yourself to bring you to your own end but you knew now it was better to wait for his instruction.

While maintaining your eager pace and swirling tongue, you lifted your dripping fingers from your cunt and presented them to the man above you, eyes still trained on his own in utter submission.

Jimin’s eyes quivered at the sight, pupils shrinking as he zeroes in on the glossy sheen on your fingers. His cock twitched in your mouth once, twice before he decided that he’d been patient enough… He could not wait any longer to claim you as his own. He pushed his palm against your forehead until his length was ripped from your throat, drool and precum dribbling down your chin. A long string of the juices seeped down his cock, another piece of it connected to your lips. It was an absolute mess, just the way he liked it.

“Up.” He growled, but before you were even able to obey his orders on your own, he pulled you up by your wrist, bringing the very coated fingers of yours into his mouth. All while maintaining eye contact, his swollen, pink lips eagerly sucked your arousal clean from your digits, swirling his skillful, rough tongue. Around, in between… He refused to let a single drop go to waste. “Mm..” he hummed when he let go of your fingers with a pop of his lips, the small smirk in the corners of his mouth widening. A light thudding sound caught your attention from behind him, his fluffy, white tail wagging in excitement, hitting the wall with every whip. “It’s a bit hot… Take my jacket off.” He suddenly asks, but his sweet tone was deceptive with the underlying command luring in his predatory gaze. He turns around, lowering his shoulders to allow you to easily slide the leather off, his tail playfully brushing against your thighs.

You nearly whined as Jimin forced you away from his cock—not wanting to remove yourself from the thick length that fit so perfectly in your drooling mouth. But the whine is cut short by his demand to stand and as he sucks your fingers into his mouth you nearly forget everything else around you. “A-ah, fuck,” you breathed—pupils dilating at the sight of the gorgeous man sucking your juices off your delicate fingers. Your cunt pulsated around nothing, so desperate for his thick cock now that the arousal has dripped down the insides of your thighs. “Yes sir,” you whispered as your fingers found the edges of his jacket and pulled it off his body. His tail makes your eyes widen as the soft fur brushes against your legs. You’ve never been with a hybrid before, never been with an alpha hybrid at that, and you’re eager to learn just how he differs in other ways. You couldn’t help but marvel at the muscles on the lithe man. He’s thin, but built and you found you’re desperate to lick up the defined lines of his abs. “You’re so p-pretty,” you whispered without knowing it escaped you, marveling at the gorgeous man.

Jimin’s tail trembled with more excitement at the praise, oddly enough. He’s been called many things. Sexy, scary, hot, alluring… Pretty? He liked it.

“Yeah?” he breathes out a small chuckle through his nose, pressing his lips together in thought. He shook his head to get rid of his mind wandering too far, instead back to indulging in the moment– focused on the aching throb between his legs. Jimin pulls his shirt over his head to expose his full torso, the tattoo on his ribs on clear display along with the faded, scattered scars adorning his skin in the form of striped, claw like patterns. Now with his body freed from the cage that is fabrics, he didn’t waste another second to grab you by the hips, turn you around to face away from him, and immediately push you forward to force you to use the sink as leverage. The large, dirty mirror on the wall stared back at you, clear enough for you to see the two of you in this sinful moment.

“You’re pretty too. A pretty slut, about to get her pretty little cunt stretched so bad you’ll be ruined for any other male.” Jimin’s canine adorned smile grew as he stared you down through the reflection in the mirror, grasp on your hips moving to the flesh of your ass. His foot kicks your feet apart, forcing you to stand wider and spread for him. A quick glance down and he already sees just how wet and dripping your cunt was. He pushed the head of his cock against your slit, coating it with your juices before gently rocking forward, not going inside, instead just rubbing between your swollen lips.

“So pretty,” you murmured as your eyes washed over him. Your mouth ran dry as he pulled his shirt off and exposed himself to the hard light of the bathroom. He looked like sin incarnate and your body ached to touch. Your fingertips lightly trailed the skin of his abs, grazing over the tattoo with the faintest touch. The cold sink countertop felt like ice against your chest, still heaving with need as the man prepped your body for his entrance. “Please ruin me, alpha,” you begged, peering into his own gaze through the reflection of the mirror. Your knees and legs trembled as he teased his cock against your desperate slit. “Mark me as yours, please. I only want you.” His cock felt so thick even at the entrance, prodding and poking through your sodden folds. A moan wrenched through your lips as it pushed against your clit and slicked with your own arousal.

“Fuck me, please!” The teasing was near torture and you were desperate, pushing your hips back lightly to encourage the man to slip in and ruin you completely.

With lips closed, he smiled, eyebrows raising your desperation. It was almost mocking, yet pleased with just how desperate you were for him. Your initial fear seemed replaced with utter submission and desire to be his. “We’ve only been in here for minutes and you’re already pathetically wet.” As he spoke, his hips snapped forward to grant your one and only wish, filling your soppy hole with his fleshy, rigid cock. He had no desire to ease you into the stretch from his generous girth, immediately pulling back until merely the tip was engulfed by your cunt before drilling back into you with another squelching thrust. “Tight… no other cock must have ever stretched you this well, huh? Fuck..” He bites down his abused lower lip, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he had to gather himself. The scent you emitted was incredibly strong, intoxicating to his mind. It was like a high he’s never experienced before, and he knew he was already a lost cause to the addiction that is you.

The feeling of the alpha’s cock filling you completely was unparalleled. You’d never felt something within you so deep, never been stretched so far past your breaking point—and unable to care about the tearing pain. The pleasure outweighed the sizzling burn of pain. He was merciless and your whimpering moans echoed around the damp bathroom. “I—ohhhh fuck,” you gasped as he pushed into you yet again, spearing you nearly in half. It was as if you could feel him deep in your stomach, and you never wanted him to leave your soaked cunt. He was claiming his territory with each torturous thrust inside you that made your throat burn for more. “Only you,” you whimpered as his thrusts became merciless and powerful. “All y-yours now. Oh, god, so good,” you praised. You learned the beautiful man thrived on praise as much as you did on the dominant commands. Your hips moved in time with his powerful purses and the sound of skin slapping on skin filled the small room. “Oh my god, sir,” you cried as fat tears of pleasure rolled down your cheeks. “You make me feel so good. I only want your c-cock inside me forever.” You knew now you would be hopelessly tied to the man, and you desperately ached for him to claim you as his own. “P-please, mark me as yours, alpha.”

The low, vibrating growl that rumbled throughout Jimin’s body would have anybody’s fight or flight instincts kicking in– the latter the most logical response from anyone within their right mind. His powerful thrusts were beyond that of what a human was capable of, the skin on your ass bruising with every loud, harsh collision of your bodies. “Only me?” he snarled through a wolfish grin, lips parting in a moan when your cunt clenched around his length. His sharp, claw like nails drew blood as they dug deep into the fleshy part of your waistline, moving your body like a ragdoll to meet his thrusts, your own attempts at doing so barely noticeable. “You want to be my little cockwhore?” Jimin leaned forward, hovering above you as he pressed his chest against your back, the grip on your waist moving to wrap around your torso with one arm, the other clawing at your jaw, forcing you to stare into the reflection in front of you. He keeps you tightly in place, feeling the way your body jiggles and jolts while he fucked into you with insatiable greed. “The alpha’s bitch?” His fiery eyes meet yours through the reflection, his toothy smile growing. He inches closer to drag his flattened tongue up your cheek, a coating of messy saliva dripping down your sweaty skin. Claiming you in every sense of the word.

The man claimed you roughly, making your throat rip with a desperate and wanton moan. His cock was pushing into your cunt deeper than anyone’s ever gone before, harder and with purpose. It was as if the man wanted to fuse your bodies together, become one. You certainly wanted it. His hands on your skin felt hot, feverish. You wanted him to touch you everywhere, at any time he could. You were hopeless addicted now. “Please,” you cried as the tears of pleasure poured from your face. “Claim this cunt as yours. I’m only yours!” You could feel your bliss piquing, building up to the impossible precipice. You whined as you watched your reflection. Your makeup smeared down your face with your sweat and tears. His fingers held your jaw tightly and your cunt pulsed around his heavy cock at the sight. You could see his heavy and thick length spearing into you and retracting smeared in your juices. Something inside you tells you it’s what you want to see for the rest of your life—only his cock ruining you and coaxing torrential orgasms out of you. “Yes! Breed me like the bitch in heat I am!” You cried out loud, no longer caring about your volume. Everyone in the bar could hear your desperate screams for the alpha and it only made you wetter, more aching for the man. “Fill me up with your seed, alpha! I need it, please! Cum inside me!”

The perked wolf ears adorning Jimin’s head flickered with his excitement, pointed forward to make sure he soaks up every little sound you make for him. You were so loud, shamelessly letting every hybrid in the building know just how good the alpha makes you feel. ‘Breed me.’ The words stuck to him, replaying in his mind whilst stuffing you with his cock over and over, the mix of your arousal and his precum dripping down into a puddle at the filthy bathroom floor. He wrapped his arms around your torso, holding you close as his thrusts changed pace. Still filled with greed and force, but no longer pulling back as much, instead keeping his cock lodged deep inside of you whilst prodding as deep inside of you as he possibly can. Jimin’s cock was on the verge of bursting inside of you, and instinctively he possessively sunk his teeth into the tender skin of your shoulder, shutting his eyes harshly. But just as quickly, his eyes opened back up, staring with wide eyes into the mirror when something he did not expect happened. He knew this was it, there was no going back. With one last, harsh thrust, he stilled his movements abruptly, heavy breathing down your neck as he kept you tightly in place– in case you would panic. “Gonna fill you up with my cum.. Put my little pups inside of you- fuck…” He growled into your skin, gnashing his teeth together. His cock grew inside of you, and he was physically unable to remove himself.

Whether it was intentional or not.. His body had chosen to breed you– to mate with you. “Mine.” He whined, and with that, his cock began to desperately pulsate inside of you as he disposed of his warm cum in heavy, pattern-like gushes. Like a volcano erupting, it didn’t stop, but he kept cumming, holding his hands on your stomach as he felt it start to lightly bulge from the amounts he was able to offer. “Gah…. shit… Look at you.” He could barely hold his voice stable, legs quivering, body twitching with every throb of his rigid length, still snugly wrapped by your cum-stuffed flesh.

Nothing in the world, in your life, has ever felt better than the way the alpha felt as he fucked into you. You barely knew the man, and yet you wanted nothing more than to give yourself over to him for as long as he wanted. You found yourself wanting to surrender your life to him. You felt safe in the security of his arms. As if you were always meant to find him, to be here with him. It didn’t matter that he had you in a damp bathroom, you would have him anyway and place. Your orgasm quickly approached, winding up and throttling you over the edge as your cunt convulsed around him. Your channels tightened and milked him, and you sobbed at the wave of pleasure creating over you.

“Yours,” you whined as your bodies stilled. His cock enlarged inside you, making your eyes widen and whimper as your hands clutched at his arms wrapped around you. You needed to touch him, stabilize yourself as your core widens to accept him and your tummy bulges from the amount of cum he pulses into you. It’s hot, and warm and you can feel it coating your walls thick. Your breathing was rapid, coming down from your high and the minor fright from having his cock widen and remain locked within you as he came.

“So big,” you whispered as a tear rolled down your cheek. “H-hurts… But I can take it. I’ll take it for you.” Your head lolls back and rests on his shoulder, allowing your body to relax around the feeling of his swollen knot. “Anything for you,” you murmured, as if you were in a daze. Your hands held on to his slender arms for support and reassurance, hoping desperately you pleased the alpha enough to keep you forever. “D-did I do okay?” You asked once, quiet as a mouse. Your confidence was quickly diminishing now that your orgasm subsided and your anxieties returned.

Jimin takes a long moment to catch his breath and collect himself, still holding you in his arms as if he never wanted to let you go in the first place. And truthfully, he doesn’t want to. Doesn’t have to…

“You did so well, little lamb.” He purrs as he places a, surprisingly, gentle kiss with his pillowy lips against your clammy temple. His hands roam down to smooth his palms over the swell of your stomach, reassuring you that this indeed did please him to the max.

After another few minutes, his length finally went back to its original size, immediately feeling his cum seep out your hole. He pulls out, and the flood of his cum splattered against the floor. But it didn’t seem to faze him at all, instead his attention was set on you, feeling your stomach deflate with each passing second. He turned you around to face him, brushing the damp strand of hair away from your eyes as his features seemed to display nothing but gentle affection, his eyes almost disappearing into thin slits as he smiled. His tail wagged happily, and he decided to bring you in for a chaste kiss on the lips.

“My mate.” he breathes out as if it was a relief to finally have you. And it was, he’d been looking for somebody that would be his true mate for life, but believed he would simply be a lone wolf for eternity. But then you came along, as if destiny had thrown you (or rather, your friend threw you) into this place at this time, like a piece of meat for the alpha to claim.

© sombreboy 2020. Do not repost, edit or translate.

[just-whatever-ig]

Rex's Duvet

clone/clone, implied nsfw, post umbara angst, hurt/comfort

One day there arrives a package on Rex's desk, a fairly big one, that has nice things written all over it, like: You are loved or happy birthday or other things that could be connected to a lifeday. It carries a note written on the same flimsi paper..

Dear Rex,

We heard you still have nobody to bunk with. We don't want you to be alone but we cannot just buy you a bunk partner, instead we threw a little together and bought this for you. It should keep the cold away and help you feel hugged and loved by us from afar. It's almost as good as a pile and it's warm and comfortable and creates a comfortable and soft cocoon around your body, when you sleep. It's absolutely worth all the money in the world.

In dear and genuine love,

FoX, bAcArA, Wolf, cody and BLY

The package holds a "duvet", as it says, a blanket filled with some sort of stuffing material. It's big and super soft ans Rex immediately loves it. And now it's his, and his alone and nobody can take it from him because they gifted it to him. He sees the envious looks of the torrent when he enters the barracks with it and spreads it on his bunk (he's a captain he ain't got his own room only commanders do). He gives the other blanket to Fives and Echo who are very grateful for that little present.

The first night after the Citadel nobody in Torrent is allowed to get sleep. Not that anybody is willingly keeping them awake on purpose, but it is Fives who breaks under grief and loss, curled up in Echo's bunk, restless in his sleep, mumbling and screaming things into the oblivion of nightmares. He is the only one who sleeps that night. And when he wakes up he starts crying uncontrollably. It sounds ugly, he doesn't even try to hide it, and nobody knows what to do. Until Rex finally slips out of his top bunk and quietly to the floor then gathers up his duvet and crosses the room towards his ARC trooper.

"Fives, hey", he whispers, gently touching Fives' shaking shoulder, "I got something for you." He spreads the duvet over the crying mess that Fives is and tucks him in warmly, pressing the covers around him like a protective shell. Fives hand snakes out of their warm confinement and grab at Rex's. "Please stay", he pleads and sobs heartbreakingly loud. For a moment Rex hesitates - it has been a while since he bunked with someone and he's not sure if Fives would actually want that - but then, slowly, he climbs into the bed and wraps his arms around Fives' wrapped up shoulders. He places a small kiss on his burning forehead and buries his fingers in dark locks. "You're not alone, Fiv'ika, I won't go anywhere."

He tucks Fives' head under his chin and holds him close as he cries himself back to sleep. On the bunk next to them lies Tup, eyes wide awake and watches them with a blank expression. He doesn't move, nor blinks, for a moment Rex thought he might be dead. Above Tup lays Hardcase, one arm hanging over the edge of his bunk, he is staring as well, just less creepy, since he actually seems very tired and blinks a lot as though to keep himself awake. When Rex turns he see's Dogma on the top and Jesse on the lower bunk, Jesse doesn't even try to sleep, he is upright and reading on his datapad, not giving them any attention while Dogma has his head laid down on his folded arms ands watches them with a curious expression. Rex doesn't know what exactly to think of it. But reminds himself to ask them later.

When he does they ask if they all need to loose someone close to them to try out the curious blanket at least once. He tells them they were always allowed to ask, they just never did.

And the following nights there id always someone at his bunk looking a him with pleading eyes. Sometimes Rex just hands the blanket over - and feels terribly cold and left alone that night - sometimes he quietly denies to recover from the coldness the past night. And sometimes he just lifts the edge of the blanket and invites them in, soon his bed becomes crowded. There is always someone around to sleep by his side and he is not going to lie, he actually loves that. He feels more accepted within the rows of his men and less lonely and sometimes, before sleep, they even have small conversations and Rex learns a lot about them just by that. Jesse, for example, is a tiny little spoon. He curls up with his back against Rex's chest and draws his arms tight around his waist. He likes it when Rex presses his face into his neck and breathes over his shoulder. Hardcase is a rough bunk partner, he moves rather a lot and he faces Rex, smushing his face into his pecs. He doesn't speak before sleeping. Tup is his absolute favorite. He likes to be the big spoon and he does it magnificently as well hiding Rex in big arms and keeping him safe and warm, he talks quietly, gently rubbing his fingertips over Rex's face to relax his tense muscles, Rex feels himself always a little disappointed when it's someone else. Kix likes to massage his muscles which always leaves Rex a little flustered because, damn, he's got such a touch kink, or he is like a stone, spreads himself ontop of him and immediately falls asleep giving Rex no possibility to goddamn move an inch. But at least he doesn't snore, like Dogma who's actually quite cuddly but loud. Nights with Dogma are heavenly comfortable and awfully sleepless, thus rather productive on his paperwork.

And then there is Fives. Fucking moodboard Fives. Sometimes he's excited and likes to talk Rex into sleep. Sometimes he curls himself around Rex and falls asleep immediately and sometimes he's touchy and even somewhat invading personal space, roaming his hands all over Rex body shamelessly. Rex doesn't mind. He loves the attention and gladly lets Fives fuck him into the mattress without a single protest.

There is hardly ever a time when he is alone in his bed from now on. He doesn't know if it is an arrangement among the troopers themselves but they circle quite perfectly, always 6 troopers in a row, the seventh night he is alone, then there are another 6. This keeps going until it's the first one again.

Thus: at some point Rex knows when to keep oil under his pillow for Kix and Fives, or when to grab himself a datapad to work on for Dogma and Hardcase, or when to meditate before bed to calm himself down for Tup and Jesse, he just wants to cuddle.

There are times when he asks them to change the cycle, when he's in the early nights but gets terribly horny he let's Dogma and Fives switch places on their schedule and instead of doing paperwork fucks his ARC trooper. Or when he desperately needs to wind down he asks for Tup instead of Kix. Or when he needs to get shit done but got bullied into bed he demands for Dogma's presence. It's a quiet agreement they have, and nobody ever dares question the Captain's orders.

24.03.2021 08:01 AM

[danadeservesadrink]

Do You Believe in Fate Chapter 7

I’m Sorry, Is Fox There?

In which the M rating for this fic is justified. Read on AO3 here 

Tagging @today-in-fic 

“Dana Scully speaking”

“I’m sorry, is Fox there?”

“Who is this?”

“This is Special Agent Diana Fowley. I should be asking who you are, and why you’re answering my partner’s personal phone”

“What - shit ”

“Actually I don’t much care. Either way tell Fox that I need him in the office in 45 minutes.”

“He’s busy right now, why do you need him so urgently”

“Well Miss Scully, I’m unfortunately not permitted to share details of the Bureau’s affairs, even if Agent Mulder has, erm , flashed you his badge.”

“I’ll let him know you called”

“Thank you Miss Scully. Maybe one day you’ll be promoted to secretary.”

“Agent Fowley?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Dr. Scully”

Mulder was in fact not very busy. He was asleep. She, however, conveniently decided not to wake him.

She herself had awoken to the sound of the cell phone ringing, and out of habit reached over to the nightstand and answered. She was used to receiving calls at odd hours, as a doctor there were often emergencies, and she served her time in the ER. What she was not expecting was the cool haughty voice, on the other end, all “ Fox ” this and “ Fox ” that.

Secretary my ass. That bitch.

She laid in bed, staring at the familiar ceiling just thinking after she hung up the call. She should probably wake him. She wouldn’t want him to get in trouble. But she couldn’t help but let her mind wander as she adjusted to the morning glow of her surroundings.

It was strange, waking up in a room so familiar yet not. Coming home last night she had been so engulfed by Mulder’s flame, his lips, his tongue, his hands, all over her. She barely had a chance to acknowledge how when he backed her down the hallway, eyes shut and hands preoccupied, she had known exactly where to step so she did not trip over the raised entrance to the bedroom. Now Mulder’s hands were tucked under his sleeping figure, unable to dominate her thoughts.

She pulled the sheets closer to her chin and inhaled the strong scent of him, reminding her once again that everything here was his. It was cleansing in a way, having him wash away all the evidence of her time here with his presence, leaving only the memories in her own mind. She snuggled deeper into the covers, hoping maybe the overwhelming Mulder-ness of the room now would enter her brain like a magic eraser and wash clean all the terrible thoughts that rose with the sun. But as the window-pane pattern of the east-facing window crawled slowly across the floor she couldn’t stop herself. She wondered how long the police were in here, tearing the place apart at her mother's request. She wondered how long it took them to clean up the blood. Even with the full duvet wrapped around her she still felt herself shiver.

Mulder stirring next to her was a welcome distraction. She felt his bare foot come in contact with her shin as he stretched, and then the bed shifted as he rolled over, draping his arm over her torso, overlapping their shoulders to tuck his chin into the crook of her neck, placing a lazy kiss on whatever skin his lips could reach.

“Good morning” he whispered, his voice still gravelly from sleep, and she immediately felt heat rise to her cheeks. It was an incredible talent of his, to take up all possible space wherever he resided, especially if that space was her own mind. Thoughts of Agent Fowley and abductions vanished as she shifted underneath him, instead being replaced by the feeling of his weight on top of her, pressing her into the mattress, and then his lips on hers.

There were a few things she had learned about Fox Mulder as of yesterday evening, and one of them was that his oral fixation was quite strong. Simply put, Mulder was a kisser, and she certainly had no complaints. After she had practically dragged him back to his own apartment, a move she rarely pulled and was quite frankly mildly embarrassed by, she had expected the progression from kissing to undressing to sex to be fairly quick. But when he led her into his bedroom, she found that her clothes remained on far longer than even she would have liked. He kissed her long and hard, until her lips were red and tingling, and she was panting his name, desperate. He pulled at her lips with his teeth and then darted his tongue out to soothe them afterwards, kissing her just long enough to drive her mad.  

Fox Mulder was an excellent kisser, and she wanted nothing more than to wake to him every morning.

She was sure he had invented his own language, by the way he spoke to her through the simple act of pressing his lips to hers. The relaxed brush of his hand on her cheek said “ Good morning, Scully”, the gentle demand of his tongue parting her lips said “ Thank you for last night, Scully ”, and the firm grasp of his other hand on her ass said “ I would very much like to repeat the events of last night, Scully”.

Or maybe she was getting that last one from the hard length that was pressing quite insistently into her upper thigh.

Reluctantly, she broke away, chuckling softly as she watched his face scrunch into a pout.

“You got a call from your partner this morning” she explained, and his pout transitioned into an eye roll. He didn’t change positions, instead nuzzling into her neck. She tilted her head to allow him easier access.

“You answered my phone?” he whispered in between nibbles.

“Only because I thought it was mine. And it woke me up.” She laughed and she felt it vibrate against his lips.

“I’m sure Diana loved that” He was alternating between wet kisses and sharp bites and she found herself slowly losing interest in the conversation at hand.

“She said she wanted you in the office in 45 minutes” He pulled back and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“And when did you receive this call, Scully?”

“15 minutes ago”

She raised an eyebrow back at him and took the opportunity to snake a hand between them, subtly grazing his erection. He let out his breath in a low whistle and propped himself up on his elbows over-top of her.

“She said that I may get promoted to secretary, but I guess I’m not very good at delivering messages”

They both chuckled, Mulder letting his head fall so his forehead rested on her sternum.

“And what did you say to that?”

“I told her I’m a doctor and hung up”

That earned her a full blown laugh, hearty and wholesome, and he once again let his weight press into her as he placed a kiss to the inside of her breast, left revealed by the wide neck of the shirt he had offered to her last night. She pressed up into his body, grinding into him until she heard him gasp.

Yeah, Agent Bitchy can wait.

He held her with such passion, gripping her waist in hands so large they almost wrapped around her completely. She could feel the pads of his fingers pressing into her bare skin, fingerprints of fire down her sides. He shifted in between her legs, still focusing his lips on the skin surrounding her breasts, and god the second time is always her favorite.

First times are kept in little lock boxes, stowed away as precious memories, pristine and perfect. First times are filled with promise and tenderness, things Mulder had an endless supply of. He laid her down easily on his bed last night and his eyes were all sorts of reassuring. She remembered them in the low light cast from the setting sun, staring up at her as his cheek pressed into her inner thigh, practically begging . First times were for asking and giving and, yes, Mulder was so good at giving.

But the second time. Second times were for taking.

Mulder is just as good at taking, and Scully was more than happy to give. She locked her hands in his, pressed him into her, and his lips worked under the soft fabric of the shirt, pushing it away to reveal her hardened nipple, which he graciously took into his mouth. She threw her head back in bliss, a gasp escaping her lips. She felt his tongue swirl around it as he sucked, teasing her sweetly. She scratched her nails against the back of his scalp as he carefully allowed his teeth to graze her.

“Shit” she swore, and the man had the nerve to laugh into her tits, still teasing her nipple with his tongue. One of his hands left her waist and moved to cup her other breast, his fingers brushing over her chest softly before her groped her with determination.

“Mulder ” she managed to gasp out, and he murmured an “mmhmm”  as he released her nipple from his mouth with a pop. She looked down her chest and met his eyes, and while of course there was still a reverence, a tenderness Mulder could never quite lose with her, the primary look he was giving her was that of pure hunger. Wild, instinctual hunger, a feeling she was quite sure he would be satisfying promptly.

“Fuck me. Now.”

Scully was quite good at taking, too.

He practically ripped off the panties she had slept in, discarding his own boxers before sliding his knees up between hers and spreading her wide. She needed to touch him, so she placed a hand to his chest and another one on his cock, feeling it hard and ready for her. She traced his length from base to tip with just her fingernails and his eyes rolled into his head. On the journey back down she wrapped her hand fully around him and he shuddered as she stroked him.

Not one to be outdone, he let his hand wander to play with her labia, softly tracing its outline before dipping in to brush against her clit, forcing her to stop all movement to let out a sharp moan.

“So wet for me baby… ” he mumbled, again leaning over, sucking her nipple back into his lips, his perfect lips. She whimpered and he took the opportunity to grasp his own cock and rub it along her slit, sending heat flying down to her very core. “You want me to fuck you, don’t you”  and oh God, yes, she wanted him.

She found herself babbling strings of “yes, please, yes, Mulder, shit, yes” until he finally pressed into her and filled her completely. He exhaled into her ear and remained sunken in her until she rolled her hips against him. He started a rhythm, pressing kisses to her neck, her ear, her cheek, her lips. Their pace increased and she kissed him for all she was worth while he fucked her.

Strings of words passed between them, curses and pleads and names alike. They traded promises as he smothered her in everything he was, all fire, hunger, and Mulder. She came with his name the only thought in her mind, like a big neon sign that took up permanent residency on the inside of her eyelids, and he cooed into her ear how good she was, how that's it baby cum for me. As her walls spasmed around him his resolve weakened until he was cumming hot inside of her and the sounds of sex that echoed of the walls into her ears were replaced by his breath in her neck as he laid on top of her, sated.    

She stayed in the bed as he headed into the bathroom and gathered his things. She watched him pull his slacks on, much to her dismay, followed shortly by a slightly wrinkled button-down and tie. He leaned over her and kissed her once more, and she felt practically dirty laying naked in his bed as he was fully dressed for work. She quickly pulled his tee-shirt back on.

“I’ll be back tonight. You still going to that hotel?” She smirked at his confidence.

“I dunno, the hotel has pretty good room service”

“Scully you’re killing me”

“I’m just sayin', a girl’s gotta eat”

“Whatever you want, it’s all yours” He made his move to get up, but she pulled him back down by his collar.

“And what if I want you?”

Kissing him never got old. It sent the same shiver down her spine, the same pounding in her chest, the same heat to her very center.

“Then you can have me.”

It took him another 15 minutes just to leave the apartment.  

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #232: And Now... Starfox!

June, 1983

“From Titan with love... Starfox!”

oh god no

Err. Anyway.

Last time on Avengers Z, the Avengers were bad enough dudes and lady dudes to rescue the president from wooden dopplegangers. The sinister and badly dressed Plantman (not to be confused with a Mega Man boss) summoned a giant-sized man-shaped swamp thing to battle the Avengers. They were doing a decent job fighting it when Starfox crashed his spaceship into it in his rush to join the Avengers.

And now, what happens after that.

Hawkeye is a terrible patient.

So also last time, a ceiling fell on Hawkeye’s leg and it be broke. He’s apparently the kind of dude who thinks its more manly to refuse anesthetic so She-Hulk has to literally pin him down long enough for Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake to cast it up.

And wow, that cast goes all the way up!

Where did you break your leg, Clint? At the sternum?

Actually this reminds me of Avengers: Earth’s Mightiest Heroes because Hawkeye got his arm snaked and in-this-version-a-paramedic Jane Foster was asked to look at it but Hawkeye was similarly uncooperative there.

I wonder if that was an intentional reference or whether an accurate portrayal of Clint’s sparking personality just gets you there naturally.

But with the casting call done, Dr. Donald Blake makes to leave, making a point to mention how lucky that he was in town instead of in Chicago where he supposedly lives.

THUS Thor’s secret identity is secure forever.

Wasp and Captain America take Ordinary Doctor Donald Blake to the elevator to show him out but really, he just transforms back to Thor in the elevator.

Because Cap and Wasp already know his secret identity. As does Dra- oh wait, he’s dead. As does Iron Man.

In fact, after Cap mentions he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing Dr. Donald Blake transform, Thor mentions very few mortals have ever seen the change.

Thor: “E’en Iron Man -- with whom I did share the secret of my dual life -- seldom watched me assume my godlike form. I believe it disturbed him.’

Wasp: “Uh-huh.”

Uh-huh is right. That’s a weird, random character beat! I wonder why it bothered Tony. Is it the god part? Transformation in general? Would it bother him to watch Bruce Banner turn into the Hulk? Or Captain Marvel/old broke version and Rick Jones chaaaaange places?

I’m intrigued. And yet there’s no further information. Hmm.

Anyway, the three founding or retroactively made a founding Avengers pass through two sets of ultra-security doors because obviously the thing in your base you most want to protect is your conference table.

Its got the cool, personalized chairs. Don’t judge.

As always, I wonder what symbols the other Avengers get.

Wasp delayed the resumption of the Avengers meeting (because it got interrupted by presidential ransom situation last issue) by a half hour because she wanted to run some things past Thor and Cap.

Wasp: “After all, we are the only core members on active duty and... well... I wanted to ask you both first... should I step down as Avengers chairwoman?”

Thor asks if she feels unduly burdened by the job but she says no, in fact it makes her feel so aliiiiiiiiiiive.

Cap: “Then stick with it, Jan! You’ve been doing a fine job! What on Earth made you even think of stepping down? Surely you don’t blame yourself for Iron Man leaving -- ?”

Surely in fact, she does do.

That weird call they got from an Iron Man quitting the team has shaken her. She probably thinks its because of Wasp dumping him. And in fairness, Tony ghosting the team happened not very long after that. But its not actually related.

Also apparently, Captain Marvel (the new cool one) was made a full active member and not an in-training to fill the vacancy Iron Man left. But now Hawkeye has gotten injured and there are no reserve members available.

Hercules is off doing him knows what. Beast is with the Defenders. Wonder Man is on the West Coast, presumably trying to make it in Hollywood. Vision and Scarlet Witch are trying to be civilians.

Wasp: “We used to have too many members around. Now we may not have enough!”

Yeah, ever since the roster shake-up that was soon followed by Hank’s No Good Very Bad Day, the Avengers have had a bit of a difficulty in keeping the team at good numbers.

Dammit, Hank!

Thor suggests, hey, we have Eros of Titan hanging around asking to be made a member. Why not... let him?

Thor: “Perhaps we should induct the brash Eros! He is swift -- and nearly as strong as an Asgardian!”

Cap: “Yes, but is he Avengers material? Does he have the proper training?”

Wasp: “Training! That’s it! We could try him out as an Avenger-in-training! It worked for Captain Marvel! She was almost totally unused to super-powers when she came to us, but she developed into a peach of an Avenger! With a little on-the-job training, I’ll bet Eros would fit in, too!”

So she calls the White House and asks if the president is back from his kidnapping yet. She has networking strings to pull.

And this honestly brightens her right up. Being group leader really does make her feel so aliiiiiiiiiiive. That and being able to call in favors from the government.

Twenty-six minutes of calling in favors later, Wasp reconvenes the meeting, this time with special guest Eros.

She asks why he wants to be an Avenger.

Eros: “Why not?”

This gives Hawkeye an anger and he bangs the table and also accidentally bangs his broken leg.

Eros decides to expand on his answer and says that he’s a lover of adventure and what better way to seek it than as an Avenger? He’s already aided them in the past so they already know of him.

Thor: “Aye! Against the threat of your mad brother, Thanos!”

Eros: “Too true. But I believe your brother Loki has also given the Avengers trouble hasn’t he?”

Wasp has to interrupt and tell the two to keep family matters out of the conversation. She makes a better moderator than some.

Eros: “You are quite right, Wasp! I hold no one -- god or man -- responsible for the actions of relatives! I seek but your fellowship! Indeed, I can think of no assemblage so appealing... so charming... anywhere in the cosmos!”

Wasp, Captain Marvel, and She-Hulk seem to approve of this answer.

... WAIT ARE YOU USING YOUR CHARM POWERS ON THEM? EROOOOOOOOOOOOOS!!!

Anyway, since Hawkeye is out of action-

Hawkeye: “What do you mean, ‘out of action’? Who says I am?”

Cap(tain America) says he is and tells him he can’t be expected to charge into action with his leg in a cast. Which Hawkeye sadly agrees.

Anyway, since Hawkeye is out of action, Wasp decides that the Avengers can accomodate Eros as an Avenger-in-training. But the government did have one condition for letting his alien man become an Avenger.

He needs a codename.

Wasp: “Frankly, the president was hesitant to approve of anyone named Eros. He would rather you were called something less provocative in public.”

Hey, fuck you, Reagan.

But Wasp has an idea.

Wasp: “You’re a pretty foxy guy... and you’ve been out among the stars... how about ‘Starfox!’”

Good god, Wasp. Did you really just name this man Spacehunk? You’ve gone mad with power.

Also, I jumped the gun last post. I didn’t realize that Wasp comes up with his codename here so I was using Starfox to refer to him already.

Also also, he has a fox emblem on his shirt. Why does he do that if he wasn’t Starfox yet? What does the fox represent in Titanian culture??

Eros: “Starfox? I don’t know... Is this necessary?”

Captain America: “Well, it could make things easier, and you’d still be Eros to your friends. After all, my real name isn’t Captain America!”

Eros: “It isn’t?”

Hah.

I adore that last exchange.

Imagine the incredulity in the tone. ‘I thought that Earth names were Just Like That.’

Anyway, Eros accepts the name Spacehunk Starfox and the position of in-training so Wasp decides to get him started right away.

Remember that thing with the president and the wood men? Happened like an hour ago?

Well, there’s a Navy task force tracking the submarine which was spotted escaping from the scene and they’ve requested Avengers help. But, eh, why send the whole team?

So Wasp sends Thor, Captain Marvel, and Starfox-in-training.

And in fairness! That’s a trio that can handle a whole heck of a lot with their respective powers!

So off they go.

Starfox: “Duty and glory, Thor! Songs shall be written about this day -- even if I must write them myself!”

You know. That’s actually a very good attitude to have. Eros will be the fanfiction he wants to see in the world.

With that issue handled, Cap(tain America) and Wasp head off to take care of some other business.

Leaving She-Hulk and Hawkeye with only each other as company.

Hah.

On their way to the mission, Captain Marvel zooms all around, practicing her cornering in flight. As a new superhero... like its been under a month, I think? Captain Marvel still thinks flying is the neatest thing.

And she’s right!

But she’s also discovered a new ability. Since her energy form is made of energy and she has control over energy. Instead of flying around as a vaguely her shaped glowing blur, she can concentrate to create a light image of herself, why not!

She has made herself harder to draw but easier to portray!

Thor: “Your radiance rivals that of the golden apples of immortality!”

Captain Marvel: “I’ll have to take your word for that!”

Hah.

She zooms over to where Starfox is flying. Captain Marvel has been eyeing him throughout the book, which Wasp has been assuming was because he’s a space hunk.

But maybe she just wanted to learn more about Captain Mar-Vell because that’s what she asks Starfox about.

Starfox: “He was a gentle warrior... a noble soul. He was a true hero... Worthy of rank and name!”

I guess the description or the sadness Starfox still has at Mar-Vell’s death makes Monica feel like shit, like maybe she isn’t worthy, so she zooms ahead to let the navy know the Avengers are on their way.

Starfox: “Have I offended her?”

Thor: “Eros, I begin to wonder if your reputation with the ladies is truly deserved.”

Hah.

But also: If you have magical fuck-me powers you don’t need to actually be charming, I guess? Dammit, Starfox!

Captain Marvel arrives on the deck of the navy task force flagship as a bolt of lighting (SHAZAM!), alarming the navy in two ways.

First, lightning. Its just so loud! But second, wait the Avengers only sent one person?

Captain Marvel goes nah I got Thor and Spacehunk but they’re slowpokes. Not moving the speed of light. Imagine.

Admiring Admiral: I don’t know who the redhead is, but I’d sail into Hades itself with Thor in my crew!

Its fun the insight we get into how respected and beloved Thor is. I don’t think that’s the case anymore with modern Thor. The marvel citenzry has just become jaded to the cool hammer man.

The admiral explains the situation. That they’re chasing the submarine seen in the area of the presidential ransom attempt. But its hiding in an undersea canyon that navy frogmen kero kero can’t reach and that its somehow been deflecting depth charges.

The admiral was going to wait for navy subs to arrive but hey, if the Avengers want to try, this is their book.

Meanwhile, in aforementioned sinister submarine, the horticultural horror... Plantman! Nah, just kidding. He’s a goofus and I will point and laugh.

His cool sub lets him pre-explode the depth charges before they reach his sub but even he doesn’t want to tangle with trident-class submarines so he wants to skedaddle. And if the navy is blocking his way, the navy gotta pay.

He activates his PLANT RAY which is a real thing, look it up, and energizes the kelp in the undersea canyon.

The kelp reaches up like a kraken, a kelpken, and starts trying to pull the navy ships under.

Thor: “‘Tis an attack by yet another form of plant! Our unknown foe has struck again! Stand you back... the son of Odin shall end this threat!”

And then Thor jumps into the ocean, leading a confused Starfox to ask whether Thor needs to breath.

Captain Marvel helpfully informs him and the audience that Thor can hold his breath for hours.

Thanks, Monica!

And then some kelp yanks Starfox and then Captain Marvel off the ship.

Meanwhile, a very expensive Manhattan apartment occupied by a grumpy Tony Stark.

Tony Stark: “Why waste good money getting a T.V. remote control fixed, when I can do it myself faster an’ better? Hah! When I’m done with it, it’ll do more’n change channels... it’ll walk the blasted dog!”

... Tony, how though?

And do you have a dog?

What is going on in your mind?

His remote repair reverie is interrupted by a binging and a bonging on his chamber door. Only this and nothing more.

He grouses about the interruption but HEY ITS HIS FAVORITE PEOPLE! Its Wasp and Captain America!

They’ve been stalking him, a little.

The pressing matters they had to attend to was running down a list of homes owned by Tony and searching them one by one to find him.

He’s happy to see them though and offers them some morning whiskey. Or bourbon. Or perhaps chocolate soda.

Look, I googled eyeopener and its booze you drink in the morning to wake up although I’m pretty sure its afternoon now and if you need to drink booze to wake up, you might want to consider limiting your intake actually. Especially for Tony Stark who had an entire story arc about alcoholism. Dammit Tony!

Wasp: “Eye-opener?! Tony Stark, where’s your mind? We’ve been worried sick about you! No one’s been able to find you for days on end -- you haven’t answered Avengers emergency calls -- and when you did call this morning it was to resign!”

Tony Stark: “Now jus’ hold yer horses! Maybe I have been outta touch... but I’ve had my own ‘mergencies to handle! An’ I didn’t call you this morning! I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Iron Man: “He’s right! I’m the one who made that call!”

Imagine being someone who reads Avengers and not Iron Man. How blown would your mind be seeing Iron Man fly into a room Tony Stark is already in?

Somewhat, right? Somewhat.

Imagine being Captain America and Wasp and seeing Iron Man fly into a room where Tony Stark is when you know for sure that Iron Man and Tony Stark are the same guy.

Cap demands to know whats going on and who is in Tony’s armor.

Tony Stark: “Jus’ who he appears to be... Iron Man, my faithful armored companion and bodyguard... jus’ like it says in the Stark International press releases! Ya see, boys an’ girls, ol’ Uncle Tony has decided to quit the hero biz while he’s still ahead of the game! No more playin’ Iron Man for me! Nosirrebob! Time to let a younger man wear the boilerplate!”

Oh.... Tony.... if this only weren’t the perpetual superhero narrative, you might be able to bow out gracefully.

And its not like this is gracefully anyway. As indicated by the charmingly tousled look, the slurred speech and the morning drinking in the afternoon, Tony is quite drunk.

Wasp asks New Iron Man to confirm and he does. He clarifies that the reason he quit the Avengers is because he doesn’t feel experienced enough yet to hold his own on the team.

And apologizes for the confusion. The Iron Man helmet has voice modifying circuits so New Iron Man (secretly James Rhodes) sounded just like Old Iron Man (aka Tony Stark). He didn’t realize that the Avengers knew Tony’s secret so didn’t realize he’d just be creating an intriguing mystery prompting readers to check out the Iron Man book slash confuse the Avengers.

Tony Stark: “Yeah... I forgot to tell ya that Cap an’ the Wasp were in on the ol’ secret. Thor, too! Oh, well... no harm done!”

Then he drinks some more booze alcohol. Cap asks him doesn’t he think he’s had enough? And Tony is like hey no I don’t and don’t butt into my life kthx.

Wasp: “We don’t want to pry, Tony! We just don’t want to see you throw your life away... like Hank did.”

Tony Stark: “I am not Hank Pym, lady! I’m nothin’ like your ex-hubby! I don’t need your help -- an’ you don’t need mine! The Stark Foundation will pay the Avengers’ bills with or without me! So, if you’ll kindly get out of my life -- !”

Oof. Why does everyone Wasp dates turn out to be a jerk?

I assume she was just leaning into it the time she dated Havok. But otherwise, oof.

They really have no choice but to leave Tony to make his own bad decisions. At least he was responsible enough to get someone else in the Iron Man armor?

Geez though. Geez.

Hate seeing you like this, Tones.

Meanwhile, back in the Atlantic Ocean... Captain Marvel fairly casually assesses the situation of being dragged into the water.

Captain Marvel: “Never saw any kelp like this before! It grips tighter than an octopus, and it feels as tough as steel! I could just turn to some form of energy and slip out of it, but then it could grab some poor sailor!”

So instead she explodes, which she can do, shredding the kelp holding her.

Then off she goes to find how Starfox is faring.

He’s faring okay. Just casually punching some kelp like it ain’t no thing.

But since teamwork does make the dream work, she blasts the kelp for him. Starfox thanks her though also says that he could’ve kelped himself.

They discuss how they can hear each other perfectly well underwater thanks to SCIENCE! The science of water conducting sound. I find it a bit dubious but whatever. Not as dubious as the next bit.

Captain Marvel asks how Starfox is breathing underwater.

Starfox: “A thin shell of air clung to me as I was pulled under... due to the gravitic potential of my body, I suppose! It all relates to my flying abilities. I was surprised myself! This is the first time I’ve ever taken an ocean plunge!”

Fun way to discover that, huh!

Also, heck, how long does a thin shell of air last underwater? How shallowly do you breathe, man!?

-google- Huh, Wikipedia has this description of his powers using almost the exact words (although not the word order) from this scene. I feel that it does not come up much so this is the primary source.

It also says that he doesn’t need to breathe as much as a normal hooman. So that’s answered.

The two newest Avengers find Thor already has things well in hand freeing the propeller without need for any further kelp.

So all three Avengers surface (and Thor retrieves his helmet, which in a nice bit fell off when he dove into the water and just floated on the surface).

Thanks to ex-boat cop Monica Rambeau knowing navy semaphore, she recognizes the signal from the navy vessel that the enemy sub is making a run for it.

And since none of these three Avengers have trouble fighting underwater, Starfox suggests they give chase.

Plantman: “NO! Not the Avengers! Not again!”

Yes, again. Yes, always.

He shoots some anti-personnel torpedoes, hoping they’re enough to stop the Avengers.

“They’re not.”

Hah. I love when captions get sassy.

The Avengers soon are busting into the sub, breaking through bulkheads and coming for Plantman.

Plantman realizes that they’ll have him trapped in the control cabin in seconds. So he pulls the last resort lever that his silent partner told him to pull as a last resort.

Some manner of escape sphere forms around Plantman, launching him high into the stratosphere and capsizing the sub right on top of the Avengers.

I mean, they’re beefy. I’m sure they’ll be fine.

But no time to verify that, SCENE CHANGE.

Over on Central Park West, She-Hulk has carried Hawkeye all the way from Avengers’ Mansion to his apartment. On foot.

Dang! Mighty nice of her! Even Hawkeye points out that he could have gotten a cab.

(But do we believe that Hawkeye has money for a cab?)

After gently dumping Hawkeye on his couch, She-Hulk asks if he wants to have her stick around. She literally has nothing better to do today.

Hawkeye: “Will you get out of here and leave me alone!!”

She-Hulk huffs off in anger because this is a rude way to thank someone who helps you home.

Hawkeye even realizes that he shouldn’t have yelled “but I can’t stand to have anyone mother-hen me! Besides, I have things to do... important things!”

Yeah, Hawkeye does seem like the kind of guy who hates getting any help at all because men are self-reliant and junk. Toxic masculinityyyyyyy!

And the important things? I dunno! He calls his head of security workplace Cross Technological Enterprises and tells them to send a car for him.

That’s probably going to be a thing in another issue. God forbid it be a thing in another book. I’m not made of time. I’m still dreading West Coast Avengers where Hawkeye goes off and makes his own team. The jerk.

Okay, back to the plot.

Thor, Captain Marvel, and Starfox of course shake off a submarine imploding on their heads without much effort. Starfox is the most shaken by it. Guess the new guy isn’t used to submarine implosions lol.

Meanwhile, Plantman’s escape pod keeps escaping up, up, and away but mostly just up.

Then a prerecorded message from Plantman’s ‘silent partner’ and/or ‘mysterious benefactor’ plays.

Wizard: “Plant-Man! This is a recording. If you have been so stupid as to get yourself in a predicament where you needed to use the emergency handle, you are now hearing this message.”

“While I appreciated your aid in escaping prison, the equipment I gave you should be considered payment in full. I owe you nothing more than an explanation.”

“Thanks to my anti-gravity generators -- which you activated along with this module -- you will soon find yourself safely in orbit!”

Plantman: “In orbit!”

Wizard: “There, you will be of no further embarrassment to me or our ‘partnership’ as you so distastefully called it. You will be beyond harm... for as long as your oxygen holds out. Farewell!”

Oof. Ice cold.

Ice cold, the Wizard.

Captain Marvel phases through the pod floor to basically say the same thing.

Plantman begs her to save him from his own dumb decision making. She’s like huh look, I don’t really know about anti-gravity but I do have an idea.

Then she blows a hole in the side of the pod.

And the pressure difference blasts Plantman out of the pod, right through Captain Marvel who has turned into intangible energy.

Captain Marvel: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

HAH!

That was mean, Monica. I love it.

But as Plantman hurtles screaming toward the ground, Thor catches him and tells him to stop screaming beside.

Thor: “Cease your cowardly whining! The Avengers do not wantonly kill their foes... not even such as you!”

These days though... well... probably still not wantonly? Depending on how you define it? Maybe during War of Realms though. The kid gloves came off then.

Starfox is loving this by the way. The whole thing that just happened.

Starfox: “What grand sport! Yes, I think I’m going to enjoy being an Avenger!”

‘Ha ha we made that guy think he was going to die!’

Also, Plantman’s outfit looked green and purple in the sub. I guess it was the lighting because its just jolly green now. But its still a terrible outfit.

Meanwhile, back at Avengers’ mansion, Wasp is back from Tony Stark locating duty! She-Hulk is back from being angry at Hawkeye duty!

She-Hulk mentions that she took Hawkeye to his apartment and for a loudmouth, he has a really nice apartment.

She-Hulk: “I wish I could find a nice apartment, but I’m still getting lost in this town. I don’t know where to begin looking.”

Wasp: “Well, if you’re so set on getting a place of your own, why don’t I give you a hand?”

Wasp is going to fulfill her delayed promise to take She-Hulk apartment hunting! And hey, why not focus her efforts on a friend that will let her help?

So Wasp changes into street clothes (or since we see her shrink later, its more that she changed her Wasp outfit and put clothes over it, which is almost like getting dressed in street clothes) and takes Jen out on the town.

Apparently, the Daily Bugle has the largest section on rentals and real estate of any New York paper. I guess they need something aside from diatribes about Spider-Man to attract subscribers.

Ben Urich’s award winning investigative journalism can’t pay all the bills.

Because this is the same New York which frustrated Tigra, some idiot immediately starts hitting on She-Hulk at the newsstand.

Some idiot: “‘Ey, beeg mama! I love that green body paint! You need any help removing it? Huh?”

She-Hulk: “Stuff it, creep! Or better yet -- stuff you!”

And she puts the garbage man in the garbage can. Where he belongs. While Wasp literally looks the other way.

She-Hulk: “Sorry, Jan, I just don’t care for men with fresh mouths. This sort of thing would never happen in California.”

Wasp: “Oh, fer shure...”

That sounds like the polite way of saying ‘Doubt.’ Surely there are sexist jerks everywhere?

Sadly for the She-Hulk Apartment Hunt, her expectations are also a little LA centric. You’re just not going to find an affordable condo with a hot-tub in New York.

Wasp asks what She-Hulk has against the free rent at Avengers Mansion with its built-in sauna that they’ve apparently always had but never mentioned.

Avengers Mansion is real nice!

She-Hulk says she can’t get behind the idea of living where she works but as someone who works from home its actually highly recommended! Although, She-Hulk’s situation is more ‘firemen live in the firehouse’ so it lacks the ‘don’t have to wear pants to work’ aspect.

Then the apartment hunt is interrupted by an incoming crossover slash a stampede.

She-Hulk grabs a random panicking passerby out of the crowd and asks whats going on but he can’t give a good answer.

She-Hulk: “Hot dog! I was hoping something would happen to break up the monotony. So far, this afternoon has been a big, dull...” -THUD-

First, I love She-Hulk’s enthusiasm for punching.

Also, hey, who put thin air in She-Hulk’s way!

There’s some kind of invisible barrier right across the sidewalk.

She-Hulk instantly decides that the thing to do is to TEAR INTO THE PAVEMENT TO SEE HOW DEEP IT GOES.

Instead of, y’know, feeling to see how wide it stretches.

Wasp tries blasting thin air too but to no avail.

Despite She-Hulk reminding everyone that “at close range, your sting can knock down a wall!”

And when she really tries, a whole house.

She-Hulk: “Wasp... This is impossible! We’re Avengers! Nothing can stop us!”

Wasp: “She-Hulk... I’ve the strangest feeling it just did.”

And apparently: this is to be continued in THE ANNIHILATION GAMBIT! Which is a crossover with Fantastic Four!

Which means I actually need to pop over to an Avengers Annual first because despite running into the invisible wall (Sue, is that you?) the Avengers are doing stuff on the Moon before getting involved.

I dunno. I’ll see when I get to it.

And you will too! Provided you follow @essential-avengers​! Also maybe like and reblog? Who can say.

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

Previous | AO3 | Next

___________________________

Chapter 5

Paris News @ParisNewsTWT

Two more victims are confirmed as a result of the bomb, on the way to the hospital an eight-year-old boy and a fifteen-year-old teenager die. We regret the loss and our condolences to the families.

              ______________

Byakko is the first vigilant to appear on the scene, watching from the rooftops the development of the situation. She was the first to be able to warn the others if they should also arrive, the officers argue while the bomb team checks the perimeter to determine if there are more devices or if there was only one, the forensic team is waiting to move the two bodies. Byakko grimaces, the scene is terrible to watch.

"Byakko, give your report." Max's voice sounds on the other end of the line, only getting the images from the security cameras surviving the explosion, which gives him very little coverage of the scene. He only sees police and paramedics.

"The bomb squad checks the perimeter. You should send someone to see the wounded and find out their condition. I will stay here and speak to the police to offer support. "

"Be careful. "

"Always."She smiles and jumps off the roof to fall behind the coroners, she approaches them to discuss the events and gather information, they will be in charge of investigating further in parallel with the police, as they usually do when they decide to get involved in any case.

While Byakko plunges into the crime scene, Pyxis enters the hospital to await the victims who are still alive. He draws everyone's attention, his black costume with violet and silver is striking enough surrounded by so much white... that and that he's one of the vigilantes, the mask definitely gives the attention call, at least it is not a kind of helmet like that of Byakko. He adjusts his black hair as he stands uncomfortably in an emergency corner, it would be easier if there was someone else with him, but everyone is waiting. He's sure that Felix must be returning from Romania and that Marinette must be preparing to return to the MT without her employees suspecting.

"Pyxis, can you take a picture with my son?" A woman approaches him, looks concerned." They'll take him to emergency surgery and he's scared. "

"Uh, sure…" He grows shy as he walks behind the light brown-haired woman, she also looks scared. The good news is that the hospital has safeguards or it would be an easy target for Akuma, he's relieved that Hawkmoth didn't think to use them until a year before the end of his reign of terror. The Akuma created by emotions born from traumatic problems are much more dangerous than the common ones, they are dangerous and the situation that just happened can become a trigger.

As they advance to the space where the child waits on a stretcher, sends a message to Max so that he can get the information from the families and they can be located, it is better to avoid more victims in the tragedy. When he has done so, he approaches the little boy with a friendly smile.

"Hi, what's your name?" He slides into the chair next to him.

"Francis. "

"Nice to meet you, Francis. I'm Pyxis, do you know me?" The boy nods, his eyes sparkling with excitement and fear. "I know you are afraid, I also  have fear all the time. "

"Really? But you fight the bad guys and don't panic. "

"Yes, we are scared, but we can't let him beat us or the bad people will win too." At that moment the doctors enter, the boy's mother took a picture of the interaction of the two, much more natural than just posing. "I will keep an eye on you, we will see you when you return. "

Francis is encouraged and says goodbye when nurses and doctors take him to surgery. Pyxis sits for a moment and then gets up, just in time to see the commotion. One of the wounded is transferred to the area where he's located and seeing a pregnant woman with a completely unmade leg is distressing. They don't leave her for long in the area, different doctors come and talk to each other and to the paramedics. It's a distressing little chaos.

"Hi." He leans over to the young woman and places his gloved hand on the bloody reddish hair, reminds her of Nathaniel's and the mental image doesn't help him smile to calm her down. "I know it hurts, I know you're afraid, but the doctors will find a way to help you. "

She barely nods, shedding tears, her gray eyes look almost glass, the blood runs where the tears flow.

"Pyxis, will you allow us?" One of the doctors talks and he nods, walking away. He leaves the care area and watches the small chaos, some family members congregate and two bodies are taken to the hospital morgue.

Since becoming Pyxis there had been no terrorist attack, after Hawkmoth, Paris seemed a little bleak and gray. Tourism had not diminished, but it certainly was not as lively as it had been years before and just when everything seems to be recovering, Akuma and terrorist attack, an incredible combo. It gives he a bad feeling.

          __________

Agatha @WhiskyMyLife

Pyxis is in the hospital cheering for the victims and their families. He's quite an angel, absurdly adorable for an adult man with an alpha male voice.

#OwnParisAngel #MTPyxis

Héros parisiens @MTHeroes

Byakko at the Louvre and Pyxis at the hospital. Will Black Metal appear? They are the closest to civilians.

#MTPyxis #MTByakko

             _________

While at the MT headquarters, the other members gather around the round table in the main room where the mother computer is located. Max keeps his eyes on every security camera trying to find something, he even rescued the last few hours before the explosion of the corrupted files, maybe it's time to replace the cameras technology and make them connected to the MT database, just someone with the Oracle level of Batman partners could access that data and that would help them more. Max nods to himself by opening a file to start the project, but leave it that way until the current problem is addressed.

"I think the heroes should go too, now that they're back to business. The negative feelings surrounding the situation should be enough to justify their patrolling, as well as generating much more hope than the MT can offer. "Felix speaks after a few minutes.

"Yeah, that will help lower negative emotions. Red Fox, Rakkīgāru and Abeilla, you three will go to patrol the surrounding areas, be on the lookout for any butterflies. We will provide support if any situation arises. "Marinette gives the order and the three mentioned nod, soon, Kagami, Nathaniel and Chloe transform and Kaalki opens a portal for them in front of Notre Dame.

"We'll be watching the communications." Marinette smiles and nods to Kagami, she was just beginning to relax and a terrorist attack happens. The bad part of this is that there is no cure that can save you all, you just have to accept the natural course of life, even if it was caused by someone else.

When they are gone, there are only five left in the room.

Max programs one of the screens to present the international news about what happened, they can't get news about anything related to prodigies outside of France, but since this has nothing to do with it, its broadcast is not prohibited. Among the images they can see Byakko with the officers and as it's live, in the distance they can see the Red Fox figure passing by. So used to running on the rooftops, they know fast routes to move and thanks to the improved skills of the wonders, they come quickly wherever.

Damian frowns, annoyed at having to do nothing, but he can't just complain when faced with such a situation. They have sent all those who can be useful, he would not be for the simple reason that he despises people and doesn't have a good relationship with them. He is aware of the comments, even though just being on two patrols was enough to earn him a reputation as an infamous demon boy. Stupid woman and her sensitive brat.

"If an Akuma appears, we will go except for Sabik and Equuleus, they will stay here and handle the situation from a distance. As long as our new villain doesn't know that the snake is active, the easier it will be for us. Damian, you will join as Thuban for the protection of civilians, Akuma born from such situations are dangerous and we can't trust the miracle cure. "Dealing with civilians, perfect.

"Yes, mother." He sits with his arms crossed, he doesn't like it, but at least they won't leave him relegated to staying with Max and Luka, it would be frustrating, although he understands that their positions are important. He prefers to be in the field and face his enemies head-on. His mother has not even taken him to any of his case investigations, he only goes with Felix and occasionally with Kagami; He can also be useful and even better than them.

"Byakko and Pyxis will maintain positions and, if necessary, help protect civilians. "

Everyone makes some kind of confirmation.

Luka slides into the chair next to Max, slips on the headphones to be part of the connections, and helps check out video from some of the surrounding cameras. The tension is palpable in the room, everyone is silent and there is only an occasional small conversation.

Marinette pulls out her phone and makes a publication, in addition to sending a message to Hugo to take out a certain amount of money and buy medical supplies to be sent to the hospital, in addition to making a donation to families and the city to repair the damage caused by the bomb. Max is also doing his part and a statement of commitment is given for KanTech to replace all cameras in the city with much more advanced ones that help detect artifacts (he has certainly been working on something like that associated with two other companies, including Wayne Tech). Felix says nothing, he's in Romania for everyone and  it's not even his city, but he can be supportive considering that his friends and associates are from there. Maybe tomorrow.

            _____________

Marie L. @MarieLenoir

It is outrageous that an attack like this happens as we try to recover from the impact of the butterfly's return. I hope the MT catches the one responsible.

Max K. @MaxKan_Tech

I promise to replace every security camera on the streets of Paris for the greater security of my fellow citizens. I will not allow them to catch us off guard again, I will work with the MT and the police for a more adequate follow-up.

Polaris Vermilion @Elgato_Solaris

In a few years, Paris will belong to Lenoir. @MarieLenoir will become a @BruceWayneOfficial for Paris. Remember my words, she already has an animal shelter and seven of the fourteen Akuma shelters are funded by her, recently rumors have been heard that Lady Black will also be a wine brand.

Héctor de Troya @EpicAdveturerHector

@Elgato_Solaris She's affiliated with the Graham de Vanily, is a business partner of @KanTech and Sabine & Tom Boulangerie.

Héctor de Troya @EpicAdveturerHector

@Elgato_Solaris She finances two arts schools, one in Paris and the other in Bremen, she's also co-owner of a Spanish publisher (anyone explain this to me?) and has recently started to finance a project for the protection of endangered birds in America.

Polaris Vermilion @Elgato_Solaris

@EpicAdventurerHector Our own billionaire philanthropist.

Lalaland @ LaLa-235Vick

@Elgato_Solaris @EpicAdventurerHector Actually, it's estimated that within three years she could enter the 100 richest people in the world, if the rumors of various businesses under the signature of Lady Black are true.

Theo @ ArtisgratiaArts_009

@Elgato_Solaris @EpicAdventurerHector @ LaLa-235Vick Is it really important? They are making it a trend and it's more urgent that victims know our support.

               _________

ALERT MONARCH

AKUMA! AKUMA AKUMA! AKUMA!

Location: District VI.

Escape routes: ****

Nearby shelters: ****

Emergency number: ****************

                                          ______________________

Marinette wants to hit her head against a wall, she really hoped there wouldn't be an Akuma in the distressing situation, but her hope was in vain. Max quickly locates it through the cameras, at least after the first attack they learned that the Akuma are a white point when infrared vision is activated, luckily, that option was incluided along with the night mode.

"The Akuma is moving toward the Luxembourg Palace, is the senate still in session?"

"Why would the Akuma go to the senate?" Damian questions without understanding, that he knows the Akuma don't lose reasoning, they only focus on the trigger of their negative emotion.

"Maybe he's not going after them, maybe he's just taking it as his route..." Marinette mutters, biting her left thumb, they're following the Akuma's route through satellite cameras. "Well, we will find out. Team, we have an Akuma to face. "

"I'm going to get dressed..." Damian mutters in a bad mood, they are going to transform and leave immediately, he still has to get dressed and will be relegated to taking care of the civilians. Annoying.

Max is watching to see if he begins to use his powers, but he is only moving. It looks like out of a Neon Genesis Evangelion chapter, if someone asks he, as long as it doesn't come up with a biblical name, enough for him. He decides to transform to make transportation easier, especially since Thuban will also have to pass later.

Ladynoir is the first to go through the portal, followed by Jade Shield. The portal closes immediately, only to reopen when Damian appears dressed as Thuban. This time, it opens next to the Church of Saint-Sulpice, since a building was built next to it that serves as a refuge, he runs to the populated sectors to help them, especially if the Akuma decides to attack.

From his location he has a direct view of the Akuma, its size is not very subtle and he wonders what kind of ability it will have. A large golden rhombus flying over Paris is something that easily attracts attention.

Suddenly a chirp is heard that stuns everyone, the children near him start crying from the pain. The screeching is followed by a thick layer of smoke that quickly covers them.

Damian begins to feel airless and in front of him, his biological mother appears.

____________

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

I was calmly watching the news when one appeared about Paris, an terrorist attack after almost ten years without having one. That's not important, were there two vigilantes on screen? Since when does Paris have vigilantes?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD For seven years? I went on vacation to Paris, I was caught in a bank robbery and they appeared, the MT. A group of very cool vigilantes, they are 10 in the team and they only needed two to solve the problem.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ErasmusLS_564 Seriously? It wasn't like bank robberies here, was it?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD It was not the same lvl of insanity, but according to the news these robbers had already robbed large banks in London & Spain without success in their capture. It was incredible to see Suzaku and Corvus destroy the group without wreaking havoc or damage to the plce

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@IAmYisus_XD @ ErasmusLS_564 Can you give us their names? I would like to know more.

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Sure. Women: Suzaku, Seiryuu, Byakko, and Genbu. Men: Black Metal, Caelum, Pyxis and Corvus. Child: Thuban, is the most recent and is a little demon boy according to twitter. He stays close to Suzaku or Corvus, theories say that heis his son

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ ErasmusLS_564 @RoyHarperQ Wasn't they 10?

Little Little Sun @ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Yup. Augur doesn't come out, but we know it's there. He's a kind of sentinel, we know why they communicate with him.

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@IAmYisus_XD @ ErasmusLS_564 Who is the orange fox-like one? He also appeared in the news footage.

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ Oh he. I'm not sure of his name, but Paris is quite unique. It's as if Batman and Superman protecting the same city, the vigilantes are in charge of the crimes and the heroes... of the big problem. I can't say more.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@ ErasmusLS_564 @RoyHarperQ Heroes and Watchers? What is there? Gotham 2.0?

Little Little Sun @ ErasmusLS_564

@IAmYisus_XD @RoyHarperQ No... The city just has its own fun stuff.

__________

If the other identity has not been mentioned, I will not say it. Marie: Ladynoir/Suzaku Felix: Jade Shield/Corvus Chloe: Lady Abeilla/Genbu Alix: Byakko Kagami: Rakkīgāru/Seiryū Nathaniel: Red Fox/Caelum Luka: Sabik/Black Metal Max: Equuleus/Augur Marc: Pyxis Damian: Tunin/Thuban

[angelofthequeers]

Not a Good Look: Chapter 3

@thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @lady-charinette tagged as requested :)

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | AO3 link

Disclaimer: I don’t own ML.

“Should I use my power now?” Aspik says when he and Multimouse are by his bedroom door, ready to slip out into the house and gather intel on this possible deal between Gabriel and Lila. “Here’s probably the safest place to reset to, and I can always refuel and give us another save point after five minutes once we get to another safe space.”

“Smart!” Multimouse blurts out. With cheeks as red as Ladybug’s suit, she adds, “Sorry! Just…yeah, that’s a good idea, Ad – Aspik. It’s probably not a good idea to wait till we’re caught before setting the save point.”

“Second Chance!” Aspik swipes his fingers over his bangle, setting the snake head back and revealing five teal bars. Then he holds up a finger, rests his other hand on the doorknob, turns it, and pushes it open. Thankfully, the hallway outside is empty, so Aspik gestures for Multimouse to slip out with him.

“I can’t believe I get to do a superhero mission with you!” Multimouse is practically vibrating as she walks. “I mean, it was really cool doing it with Ladybug, but…she’s Ladybug, you know?”

Aspik’s about to respond but they round the corner at that moment and stumble across the maid, Marie Durand. Marie takes one look at them and lets out a piercing scream, and Aspik yelps and fumbles for his bangle as the sound of footsteps from downstairs reaches his ears.

“Second Chance!”

Once more in his bedroom, he heads out with Multimouse again, though this time, his senses are more finely tuned so that they can avoid Marie and anyone else who might be around.

“For the record, it’s awesome doing a superhero mission with you too, Mar – Multimouse,” he whispers. Multimouse jumps.

“O-Oh! I really said that?”

Aspik grins at her and she turns beet red. “Yep. As much as I loved working with Ladybug, I feel like there’s a little less pressure with you. I’m not trying to impress you.” His eyes widen when Multimouse reels back as though she’d been slapped. “Um, not that I don’t – I mean – Second Chance!”

God, why can’t he have Second Chance as a superpower in his everyday life? He’d sell his soul to be able to get out of awkward situations like he just had; and this time, when telling Multimouse how he likes working with her, he makes extra sure to leave out the part about not trying to impress her. He hadn’t meant it like that! He just meant – well, it’s so much easier to relax with Marinette! She puts everyone at ease!

Unfortunately, his confession of enjoying working with her also makes her squeak and trip over her own feet, crashing to the floor so loudly that Marie is summoned to investigate. Just like the last time she’d caught them, she screams, and Aspik is forced to hurriedly use his Second Chance again to avoid being caught.

Okay. Avoid any topic that involves heaping praise on Multimouse. As much as she deserves it, now is not the time for her to be flustered. Really, that one was all on him.

Fourth time: Aspik got so distracted by Multimouse’s twin buns and wondering how to get Marinette to wear them normally that he completely forgot about Marie. Oops.

Fifth time: Multimouse slipped past him as they crept down the grand staircase and her smell of strawberries and vanilla invaded his nose and knocked him off his feet, sending him crashing head over heels and bringing Multimouse down with him. Nathalie had been decidedly unimpressed, but he’d reset before she could snarl out whatever she was going to say.

Sixth time: minor love crisis over how hard it would be to just go out with Ladybug and Kagami and Marinette all at the same time. A close encounter of the Marie kind once more.

Seventh time: Just a dizzy spell. Definitely not distracted by wondering what Multimouse’s lips would taste like and if she’d taste any different when detransformed. Thank god no one else remembers what happens but him.

Eighth time: At least made it past Marie before remembering Ladybug holding Marinette close and devolving into a primate with his single brain cell dedicated to fantasies involving both girls that he’ll never divulge even under pain of death. Caught by Nathalie again.

Ninth time: Got distracted by the way Multimouse’s jump rope tail moved as she turned the corner and then couldn’t look away from her butt. Here lies Adrien Agreste, struck down by the heavens for perving on the butt of one of his best friends. (The superhero suits definitely do their wielders some favours, though).

Tenth time: finally made it all the way to the atelier, quicker this time so Nathalie wouldn’t catch them. Scarred for life when Multimouse divided to make the door opening look like a breeze and Nathalie had been hugging Gabriel from behind and burying her nose in the crook of his neck with one hand splayed across his stomach. Gabriel Agreste in any kind of sexual context? Eww, eww, gross.

Eleventh time: quickest reset yet when he told Multimouse what he’d seen last reset and she’d let out a shrill scream at the thought. Lesson learned: don’t let Multimouse imagine Gabriel Agreste in any kind of situation like that. Good thing Aspik had taken the Snake instead of her.

Twelfth time: took a more moderate pace; not too quick that they’ll catch Gabriel and Nathalie banging or whatever it is they were doing, but not so slow that she’ll catch them downstairs again. Unfortunately, this is the most skewed timing yet.

“– not with Ms Rossi. And Tsurugi-san swears that he isn’t –”

Aspik and Multimouse freeze, but it’s too late to duck back around the corner or into another room hide from Nathalie, who’s frozen at the sight of them. For a moment, both sides stare at each other, mentally daring the other to make the first move, and Aspik might have been faster to react if the previous two cycles hadn’t left him flustered, so it’s Nathalie who breaks the silent game of chicken with a snarl of determination.

“Duusu –”

“Second Chance!”

The world around Aspik dissolves and reforms to place him back in his bedroom. He shakes his head and grabs Multimouse by the wrist when she reaches for the doorknob.

“We should wait ten minutes or so. The timing’s always wrong,” he says, deliberately not mentioning all their failed times when he’d been distracted by her, so Multimouse nods and steps away. They fall silent, waiting until Aspik’s sure that it’ll be a good time to sneak down…but there’s something that’s eating at him from the last cycle. Something about Nathalie’s reaction. Every time, she’s snarled at them and looked like she was going on the attack, but Aspik had always reset before she’d been able to speak. That time, though she’d gotten a word out. What had she said? Duusu?

“Duusu? What does the Peacock kwami have to do with this?” Multimouse says. Oh. He’d said that last bit out loud. But wait, how does Multimouse know who the Peacock kwami is?

“Uh, how do you –?”

“Ladybug told me!” Multimouse blurts out. “But how do you know?”

A terrible thought occurs to Aspik, making his stomach twist and coil like a snake that’s tangled itself in a knot. He swallows around the lump in his throat and rasps, “Nathalie. She said it before I reset.”

Multimouse’s eyes bulge, and she shoots a look at the door and then back at Aspik. “You should detransform,” she murmurs. “We need to come up with a plan now that we could be up against Mayura, so you may as well let Sass refuel.”

“Right. Um, scales rest.” Although Adrien’s got no idea what’s going on with Multimouse, he can’t help but instantly follow her instructions as though Ladybug herself had given them. He directs Sass to Plagg’s Camembert fridge and then sinks down on the end of his bed, watching Multimouse wear a hole in the floor with her pacing and fidgeting and mumbling. She’s so like Ladybug in this moment, just like when his lady is coming up with a convoluted plan…but that’s not fair to Marinette. It’s not fair to compare her to Ladybug just because he loves both girls and it would solve all his problems if they were the same girl.

“No, no, that won’t work,” Multimouse mumbles, toying with a lock of dark hair that frames her face. A momentary gap in the hair reveals the black stud in her ear, the only feature from her civilian self to carry through to her transformation, although Adrien hadn’t been aware that accessories could carry over. Maybe it’s just him.

But…wait. Except…

“That’s very sweet of you!” Multimouse turned her head to show her bare earlobes. “But I’m not Ladybug! I’m Multimouse!”

Then how does Multimouse have earrings now? Unless…no way. There’s no way. Adrien freezes as the fabric of his mind starts to unravel. She’d tricked him! Maribug tricked him! His lady’s been right here in front of him the whole time, and he’d been right to suspect her of being Ladybug, he’d been right, but she’d thrown him off like the devious girl she is! How? The Rat can only divide its wielder. It doesn’t have any powers of deception.

But…the Fox does. And it’s perfectly possible to unify Miraculouses; Dragonbug and Snake Noir had proved that in the battle against Miracle Queen and her henchmen. And theoretically, if there was a Multimouse that had unified with the Fox and hidden away, in the perfect position to create an illusion of Marinette and Ladybug next to each other to throw off Chat Noir…

“Adrien?” Multimouse says when Adrien exhales and runs a hand through his hair. How is he even supposed to process this? He’s loved Ladybug for so long that it’s become as much a part of him as breathing, and Marinette’s crept up on him so slowly with each day that’s passed…but they’re the same person! He’s fallen for the same person twice over! “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just…deep in thought about implications and stuff.”

Multimouse blanches. “Oh. I didn’t even think…if Nathalie is Mayura, and the Butterfly and Peacock were lost together…oh, Adrien, I’m so sorry.”

Oh. His father could be Hawkmoth. It’s not the first time Marinette’s suspected it – after all, there had been that time that Ladybug had had her suspicions, just before his father had been akumatised – but Adrien’s brain hadn’t even connected the dots from Nathalie’s attempt to summon Duusu until now. And that thought is enough to twist a new snake in his gut, except that this one is one of bubbling nausea.

“But he was akumatised,” Adrien rasps, raising a hand in case he needs to clap it to his mouth to hide a gag. “Can the Butterfly akumatise themselves? Did he do it to throw you – uh, Ladybug and Chat Noir off his scent? If Hawkmoth’s my fa – if he’s, you know, then he must’ve panicked when I lost the book and thought that you were on his tail.”

Multimouse shrugs rather helplessly. “I wish I knew what to tell you. But I hardly know anything about the Butterfly.”

Yeah. But she knows plenty about all the others. “No, I get it,” Adrien croaks. “You wouldn’t know. What do we do?”

“We need a plan,” Multimouse says. “We should find Ladybug and Chat Noir and tell them –”

“We don’t have time for that,” Adrien immediately counters. Multimouse blinks and shuts her mouth with an audible clack, and Adrien vows to apologise later for being so harsh now, but there’s no way he can just sit back and let Gabriel keep the Butterfly for a moment longer than necessary. “I am – I could be the son of Hawkmoth. If anyone else gets akumatised after this…that’s on me. I could’ve stopped him.”

“Adrien, no.” Multimouse crosses over to sit next to him and she rests a gloved hand on his bare one. Adrien’s not sure whether the warm tingles that dance across his skin come from Ladybug or Marinette, but does it really matter when they’re the same person? “The only way you could be guilty in this is if you were willingly helping him. And I know you. I know you’d never help that scum. I’ve seen how you interact with him, remember?”

Adrien ducks his head to hide his warming cheeks. Marinette’s always had such faith in him, whether he’s Adrien or Chat Noir, and even though he can’t figure out exactly what he’s done to deserve such staunch faith from the most incredible person in the world, he’s not going to complain about it.

“But I’ll be guilty of letting him get away with it if we don’t do something now,” he says, praying that there’s no sign of his inner turmoil visible to Multimouse. “If you divide, you should be able to get the Miraculous, right?”

“Yeah but…” Multimouse bites her lip. “We should have more of a plan than that. What if something goes wrong? This is more of Ladybug and Chat Noir’s thing.”

“And like you said, they wouldn’t be able to even get near this place without everyone knowing,” Adrien says. Technically, they’re Ladybug and Chat Noir, but he’s not lying when he says that they could never get near Gabriel as their true superhero identities. “But Multimouse and Aspik? I can keep resetting and tell you where we went wrong. And you can sneak the Miraculous away.”

“I suppose…” Multimouse says. “And we could also get Mayura’s if we knew where it was kept.”

“I think it could be in the vault in my father’s office. That’s where I got the book from, so it’d make sense for him to keep it in there.”

“But we still need proof. We could grab the Miraculouses and give them to Ladybug and Chat Noir, yeah, but it’d be our word against his. I don’t want him to have any chance of getting out of this.”

“Why do we need all these convoluted plans?” Adrien throws his hands up and jumps to his feet, making Multimouse jerk away. “We just need to go in there and get the Miraculouses! This isn’t an akuma battle!”

“I’m sorry, Adrien.” Multimouse wilts. “I just want to make sure that we cover every possible angle. I mean, if your father is Hawkmoth, it’s not going to be easy for you. There’s going to be fallout, from the police and the legal system and the news and everyone. Considering how much your father controls your life, things are gonna change completely for you. And if he somehow manages to slip out with an innocent verdict because there wasn’t enough evidence…”

Oh. He hadn’t even considered what would happen to himself, but of course Marinette’s concern would be him and his welfare. “No, I’m sorry,” he says, once more wondering what the hell he did to deserve someone as amazing as Marinette. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you when you’re just trying to make sure that everything goes smoothly. I’m just…dealing with a lot, but I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

Multimouse smiles. “Apology accepted. I know that learning your father could be Hawkmoth can’t be easy. But I do think we should do this later. Maybe at night when he’s asleep and we can just grab the Miraculous? You said that Nathalie’s out there, and we don’t want to risk Mayura jumping in and making things messy. And we can’t go to the police and get their help to take him down. Even if we had proof, we can’t trust anyone but Ladybug and Chat Noir, and Ladybug said that she trusts us.”

“You really are brilliant,” Adrien breathes. Multimouse’s face stains scarlet in response,

“Yank – um, thank you!”

“But how do we get proof? Unless we stalk him and wait for him to transform, I don’t see how – oh, and we need proof that he’s made a deal with Lila!”

Multimouse is quiet for a long moment. “Do you think…Lila knows?” she says in a hushed voice. “Or at least suspects? I mean, it makes sense for your father to make a deal with her, but…”

Adrien swallows around the lump that suddenly forms in his throat. If Gabriel really is Hawkmoth and he has made a deal with Lila, a lot of things will start to make sense, such as why Gabriel would so heartily endorse a dangerous liar. And if they have made a deal, was it in place as far back as when Kagami was akumatised? Is that why Lila had tried to get Ladybug killed?

“I hope that Lila doesn’t know,” he finally says. “For my own sanity. If there’s a whole plot around using me like – like a piece of meat, like I’m something that can just be exchanged like money…”

Multimouse’s eyes soften. “Let’s go,” she says. “We can fill in the others and then take your mind off it. I’ll tell Ladybug everything when she comes by to get the Miraculouses.”

Adrien just nods numbly, his chest like a lead weight as he struggles to draw in precious oxygen. What else can he do? It’s not like he’s a stranger to being treated like an object – like all he’s good for is smiling and showing himself off for the good of Gabriel – but the thought of being passed around like a shiny object, being used to seal a deal and purchase loyalty in a potential terrorist plot…well, it’s enough to make his stomach try and yeet itself up his throat.

He’s so lost in his daze that he only just notices Multimouse leading him towards bright blue, before his surroundings turn soft pink. There’s a buzzing sound that could be talking but his one remaining brain cell is currently trying to process just how entangled he is in this whole Hawkmoth-Lila plot, how little agency he even has anymore, that it’s all he can do to not break down completely on the spot.

But when his fuzzy vision clears and he’s met with the sympathetic faces of Marinette and Alya and Nino and Kagami, any remaining power he might have over his body dissipates and his legs give out beneath him, depositing him on Marinette’s cool wooden floor. There’s a flash of black and pink and the soft scent of strawberries and vanilla, mingling with the sharp smells of earth mixed with sports deodorant, of warm cinnamon spice, of fresh men’s deodorant. It all anchors him, stops him from floating away, fills his lungs in place of the air that he can’t breathe, and he finally allows himself to break, surrounded by the safety net of the people with whom he’d trust with his life.

[atamascolily]

Extremely subjective opinions about Star Wars planets

Inspired by @carmarthenfan. I did my top ten faves, and then gave up trying to put these in order, so they're literally in the order they occurred to me.

(This is not conclusive; I left a bunch out. There are a lot of Star Wars planets, y’all.)

1. Tatooine.

Iconic. Terrible place to live. Great place for making your characters suffer. Who cares that the ecology makes no sense when you have wide open spaces, exposed rock layers and salt flats, and a rockin' aesthetic? Not to mention wretched hives of scum and villainy and also, like, ACTUAL DRAGONS.

(Thesis: literally half of what makes ANH so compelling is that it's set on Tatooine.)

2. Yavin IV (Legends)

AKA Jedi Jungle Friendship Camp or Space Guatemala. If I was going to live anywhere in the GFFA, it'd be here. Temple ruins (even if they are infested with Sith ghosts), hot springs, rainforests, biodiversity, awesome eclipses and a giant blood-red gas giant constantly overhead, not much in the way of development... what's not to like? (Okay, the Sith ghosts are a problem, but they got rid of those eventually.)

3. "Forest moon" of Endor, ROTJ

Redwood forests are awesome. I'd totally live in an Ewok treehouse. They're the only place in the galaxy with handrails!!

4. Coruscant

I'd probably hate to live there, but it's a great setting for fic. A surprisingly large amount of wildlife and plant life, despite the rampant development. Epic architecture, lots of culture, Luke has a cool retreat in the Manarai Mountains and Han and Kyp go skiing at the poles. Home of "the room where it happens".  

(most of my fics to date are set on Tatooine, Yavin or Coruscant, lol)

5. Alderaan

Too bad the Empire blew it up. :( IDK about the whole Killik business, but Space Switzerland seems great, and I'd live there in a heartbeat. An actual multi-biome world, wow! I should write more fics about this place.

6. Myrkr (Legends)

Jungle planet with metallic trees and furry, Force-repelling lizards. Also giant vornskrs that use the Force to hunt. Don't forget Talon Karrde's awesome tree base!

7. Dagobah

I love this place, even if living there would be a challenge. Actually kinda has a functioning ecology in canon. Love the sheer abundance of snakes, plus dragonsnakes and the mangrove-like gnarltrees, which are the adult form of giant white spiders (I love plant-animal weirdness like this).

8. Mulako Comet (Legends)

Not technically a planet, but how can you not love a resort carved out of a giant frozen comet HOW. 10/10, we stan. The perfect place for a romantic getaway, especially if you are a water nerd like Luke.

9. Vjun (Legends)

The Gothiest goth place ever to Goth. Has names like "River Weeping" and carnivorous moss that nibbles on Obi-wan. <3. Vader's Goth castle was originally here before the writers moved it to Mustafar.

10. Honoghr (Legends)

Another terrible place to live, thanks to the Empire's sabotage, but I love there's actually an attempt at an ecological plot line here (Timothy Zahn is surprisingly good at those). A single biome world, but for a legit (and sad) reason. I should write some fics about this place.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

Corellia (Legends) - It's okay, I guess? I'm not sure how I feel about the Corellian trilogy in general, but there are some things with the Selonians and the Drall that could be interesting for fic? Also, Treasure Ship Row is cool.  

Kessel (Legends) - Hell-realm. Not sure if Kevin J. Anderson's "glitterstim" is the same as "spice," but Han and Kyp have to fight off giant spiders in the dark underground mine, which is certainly dramatic. Had a moon until a prototype Death Star blew it up.

Ithor (Legends) - JUNGLE PLANET POPULATED BY BOTANY NERDS, SIGN ME THE FUCK UP. But they won't let you actually explore the surface, because it's sacrilege. :(

Belsavis (Legends) - Hoth on the surface, Yavin in the rift valleys (but with, like, plantations), plus underground tunnels full of monsters and Jedi artifacts. Home of a secret Jedi botany master and his plant friends, so I'm in favor.

Chad (Legends) - Mostly ocean planet--I guess Space Earthsea, but with more geological activity? Callista makes it sound dreamy and idyllic in her flashbacks, but all the native Chadra-Fan are trying to GTFO, so I dunno.

Nam Chorios (Legends) -Like Tatooine, I would probably hate living there, but it's a great setting for a fic. The perpetual twilight would get old fast, but I love the terraformed ecology, the sentient rocks and the Force storms. Drochs are super creepy, though.

Hijarna (Legends) - There are ruins and sweeping vistas. What can I say, Karrde knows how to pick a secret base. :)

Dathomir (Legends) - Rancors have to be native to somewhere, so why not Dathomir? Courtship of Princess Leia is hokey and weird as all get-out, but it did give us Teneniel Djo, and I love her.

Hapes (Legends) -100% better at you than everything, and they know it. Leave them to it.

Yavin 8 (Legends) - Giant snakes and giant eagles... who literally eat children. Kinda weird being in a place where humanoids are on the bottom of the food chain. Love the Melodies' amphibious lifestyle, though.

Wayland (Legends) - Endor with the serial numbers filed off. Still love it, though. And Palpatine built a lair in a giant mountain! Props to him.

Ryloth (Legends) - sounds like an actual hell realm, but a desert planet? One half in perpetual sun, one half in perpetual darkness, and only a very narrow habitable zone? I’m game.

Msst (Legends) - Terrible, if accurate, name. All we ever see is the eponymous mist, plus giant pink creatures that numb you with poison and devour you alive.  Brakiss's home planet. No wonder he hates everything. On the plus side, his mom got to see Luke Skywalker naked, so good for her.

Kashyyyk - TREE WORLD, WE GO HARD (part II). Except I don't think the Wookiees have handrails, do they?

Hoth - Ice, ice, baby. Ecology makes no sense; it's a fucking glacier. I would hate living there, but I've read so many fluff fics about snowfall fights and sex in X-wings and supply closets that I feel a kind of fondness for it.

Byss (Legends) - Dark. Hidden. Secret. Goth as fuck. I like it. Exegol, but with more class.

Ahch-To - Skellig Michael is great, but too recognizable as itself to really be a good stand-in for somewhere else. Puffins are better than porgs. Great place to hide, but I stand by my claims that the Jedi order could not have arisen there. Love the aesthetic. The Caretakers deserved way better!  

Naboo - Space Italy. Would definitely live there. Closest thing we see to Dinotopia in the GFFA. (Tell me Theed isn't Waterfall City!)

Kef Bir - why not just let the original forest moon have multiple biomes? It's okay to have multiple-biome worlds, I promise, we wont get confused. Epic sweeping grasslands, steep cliffs, massive waves. I love what little we see of it.

Crait - you're going to film a Star War on the Bolivian salt flats and NOT make an epic dream sequence with the night sky reflected on the salt?? What. Hoth with red dust. Crystal foxes look like Vulpix from Pokemon, and I like them.

Ilum - cool ice planet gets turned into planet-destroying superweapon and blown up. Not a fan.

Bespin - I don't know about the ecology, but 10/10 for aesthetics.

Nal Hutta / Nar Shaddaa - Ecological disaster. Gross and full of Hutts.

Niraun (Legends) - I don't like caves and that's pretty much all we see. Especially if those caves are filled with carnivorous hordes of Space Army Ants.

Gamorr (Legends) - "Procedures programs for visiting Gamorr consist of a single line: DO NOT VISIT GAMORR. Really!” Especially do not visit in the season known as "slushtime".

Af'El (Legends) - I know very little about it, but it seems cool? "The Dark World". Home planet of the "wraiths" (Defel) and the homunculus wasps.  

Kijimi - "Disneyworld with space facism". Swirling snow and stone looks cool at night. Too bad that fight scene was such a mess. 

Takodana - it's the English Lake District, I'm never going to be able to suspend my disbelief to believe it's anything else.

D'Qar / Ajan Kloss - Yavin IV knockoffs. If you want me to care, you're gonna have to give me something better.

Exegol -  this “planet” is just a CGI soundstage with a floating pyramid/arena whatever, and lightning. Weather instantly improved when Palpatine died, which strongly suggested he liked it that way. Knockoff Byss.

Mustafar - Literal hell-realm. Lava does not work like that. And apparently, ROTS insists it also has snow and trees, which seems like a little too late.

Canto Bight - you'd think people with that much money would have a better-looking planet. ughhhh.

[typewriterghcst]

Title: A Very Small Wish Fandom: The Cat Returns Characters: Baron, Muta, Toto, Haru, plus some OCs Rating: PGish maybe?? Words: 4724 Summary: A pleading request from a parent whose daughter has been cursed by a resentful witch is nothing truly out of the ordinary for the Cat Bureau— in fact, it might be so common so as to be routine— so why does something feel inherently off about this particular one? Notes: Third chapter of six of a Secret Santa gift for @deedee-sunflowers. It’s about here that the chapters start getting a bit long hhh. Tho I think they end up a little shorter again eventually Anyway, the first task. A lot of different influences went into these parts of the story, and I hope they’re not too blatant or distracting, aha ;;  Also, I forgot! I drew a very small doodle of the little patchwork creatures which feature in this chapter, if anyone’s interested `~`;;

                                    Ch. 3: The Sown Forest

The Sown Forest is near deathly silent, or… perhaps at least it feels that it should be, but the crunching of the snow under their collective feet and an ever-present rumbling ambiance akin to a distant earthquake means there’s little true silence to be had. And even without that unexpected ambient background, something about the place doesn’t feel quite right. In every direction grow thin, white trees, scattered haphazardly and yet also in just the right formation to make the forest seem far too organized, tidy. Patterned. 

No matter where they look, the horizon stretches out over an immeasurable distance, and the white of the sky and that of the level, milky ground meld into one. Only the wispy, bare branches of the trees break up the monotony of the landscape.

“Well,” Baron finally thinks to remark, “The bright red of a holly berry is likely to stick out like a rather sore thumb in this environment, isn’t it?”

“Sure, if you can find the one dumb enough to grow right now,” Muta grumbles, burying his nose into the warmth of the scarf wrapped around his neck and grumpily huddling further into his coat.

“Now, let’s not lose faith so early, Muta. Should we remain positive and keep a cool head about this, we’re sure to succeed.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say…” More grousing.

“We have only a limited amount of time to triumph over all three of these challenges, and I believe we’ll cover more ground if we split up into groups. Muta, Miss Haru— the two of you start in that direction. Mr. Vanya and I shall take the opposite. Toto, see if you can discern anything from the sky.”

“A berry— even a patch of berries, might be difficult to spot from an aerial view,” Toto responds as a gentle caution. “Even in such a uniform environment.”

“I know, but there’s no harm in trying anyhow.”

Toto nods. Then, more firmly than before, “And how do you propose we find this spot again to inevitably reconvene?”

Ah, bless Toto again, Haru thinks to herself briefly, because Baron looks rather comically bemused by this question, and she and Muta and Toto (if possibly even Vanya, the newcomer that he is) know that this very important piece of information had not occurred to him while putting together his impromptu plan. He gives a pensive noise, one hand going to his chin as the other is planted on his hip.

Eventually, he glances at the trees surrounding them, appearing to have been struck by inspiration, and then removes his hat.

Wordlessly, he hangs it on one of the nearest branches, positioning it just so so it won’t slip off or blow away (though there’s not been even the slightest whisper of wind since they’d arrived). 

“Here we are. We’ll all meet back here in an hour— keep an eye on your own footprints. They’re all four of them different, and they should help to distinguish our separate paths.”

Something in Vanya’s gaze gleams as he looks to Baron’s hanging hat, though he ultimately turns away from it to rejoin the group. Instead, he hops like a particularly excited toddler to Haru and Muta (well, Haru, to be more truthful). In one of his paws is what appears to be a skewered snake or worm, which he wastes no time in handing sloppily to the teen, much to her dismay.

“For good luck! This is a traditional Oostal charm good for finding tricky things. And we need all the good luck we can get!”

Haru looks swiftly to Muta for assistance, but the cat is leaning away from her with an expression that speaks to no less than utter baffled disgust. Well. Strained gratitude it is, then, it seems.

“O-Ohh… You’re right, that’s a good idea— th-thank you.”

Vanya beams in a manner eerily reminiscent of the Cat King before scampering back over to his place beside Baron (and it’s only through their long shared history with the cat figurine that Toto and Muta both glean the subtle apprehension in his own expression, that he is mutely waiting in terror for the fox to hand him one of these traditional charms as well). Vanya neglects to do so, however, and Baron’s subdued trepidation is gone almost as soon as it’d revealed itself.

“Remember— one hour. If all else fails, Toto at least should be able to reunite us.”

With that decided, they start off in their opposite directions, Toto taking wing into the sky.

                                                          &&&

It’s terribly easy to become disoriented in the Sown Forest, Haru and Muta quickly find out. If not for their own footprints, they swiftly agree they’d have long since been wandering in tight circles and not even realized it. The seamless boundary between land and sky and tree has Haru occasionally feeling rather like she’s walking on a spinning top which also wobbles across the table.

She eventually places the skewered… animal Vanya had given her down beneath a tree, shooting Muta an injured look when he comments on it.

“Looking a gift horse in the mouth, chicky? Didn’t think you had it in ya,” he cracks with a sardonic laugh.

“I’ll pick it back up before we head back to the others! He’ll never even know. B-Because there’s no reason for me to actually carry it with me the whole time we’re looking…”

“I’m just picking on ya. You dropping that thing is gonna do wonders for my nose. Smells like a spoiled fish.” Then, with an annoyed huff, he continues, “I woulda thrown it at him— try to give me some stinky dead thing on a stick—”

“Come on, he’s not that bad,” Haru tries, but she knows she doesn’t sound all that convinced herself. And Muta’s not about to let it go without comment, either.

“You don’t sound so sure to me, kid.”

Haru turns in her spot on her heel, feeling lost and restless in a hard-to-define way. The Sown Forest is devoid of rocks and bushes entirely; it’s nothing but thin scraggly trees, and she would never have imagined before now that to scour such a nebulous landscape might prove to be so exasperating. Where does one search for a pop of color when there are no hiding places? 

“...do you get… kind of a weird feeling from Vanya..?”

“Yeah,” Muta doesn’t hesitate to respond sourly. “He’s a tiny, annoying puffball with a bad laugh.”

“N— No, I mean— like an uneasy feeling. Like something is… um, off.”

“Probably ‘cause something is off about him. I don’t trust that puffball.”

The relief Haru gains from such a simple sentence is near indeterminable. She almost leaps in victory.

“I knew it couldn’t be just me! Well, and Toto, maybe, but he was more mum on the whole thing. You know how he is.”

“A gargoyle of few words, yeah, I guess. Real annoying, if you ask me. It’d be a lot easier if everyone just said what they mean instead of hanging on to secrets to keep the peace.”

Distantly, Haru gets the distinct impression this complaint has roots beyond the borders of the current situation, and she’s not sure what to say to it.

Muta, also, seems similarly surprised at himself, and in the end, he chooses to bulldoze past it, circling a few trees in the silence and eventually speaking up, “...Anyway, this Vanya creature pipsqueak is fishy, an’ I don’t like him. I don’t know what he is. Something old. And this place is, too.”

“What about Baron? Do you think he’s being careful enough? He’s wandering around alone with Vanya right now…”

“Eh, Baron’s kind of a soft-hearted ham sometimes, but he’s no peabrain. He’ll be fine.”

“Is that really the best you can do to reassure me..?”

“What? I dunno what to tell you, chicky, it’s the truth.” 

“Yeah, but a little more optimism wouldn’t have hurt,” Haru mumbles plaintively.

“If you want, ya could bust on to the scene and rescue him from the puffball to pay him back. Hey, maybe he’ll start crushing on you, then.”

Oh, that calls for a heated blush. Haru stares down at the snow-covered ground of the Sown Forest, hands balled loosely into fists at her sides, though she’s trying desperately to play it all cool. Unfortunately, she’s never been much of an actor.

“He’s my friend— of course I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Muta’s response of the beginnings of a chaffing laugh is not well-received; Haru spins around to protest, but— 

Something comes shuffling into their space from behind a nearby tree. And something is all Haru can think to describe it as— smaller even than Vanya and Siree, with a long, snuffling snout and a soft, bean bag body. The tiny creature lacks arms or wings of any kind, giving it an awkward, waddling gait. Missing also are eyes and any noticeable ears.

Yet the strangest thing is that it appears to have been sewn together out of scraps of colorfully-patterned fabric, much like a quilt. (It triggers a memory of her mother’s handiwork, in fact, and the very idea of her mother back at home, in the real world, throws Oostal’s alienness into stark relief. She’s so terribly far from home.)

Muta and Haru watch the little thing waddle between them and then down the way from them in silence before looking back to each other.

“What is it, Muta?” Haru asks. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“What, you never had a stuffed animal before?”

“Stuffed animals don’t walk, Muta,” Haru responds with a huff.

“Eh, shows what you know.”

Whatever response Haru might have had to this lazy red herring abruptly trails off, because the funny little creature, having paused for a brief moment, now drops its floppy snout onto the ground and continues on in a faintly opposite direction, snorting softly the whole way.

“It must be one of the rumored inhabitants of the Sown Forest, right?”

“Yeh. Bet it’ll lead us to those rumored holly berries, too, if we’re careful about it.”

“Now you’re starting to sound like Baron.”

Muta darts out from beside her with a faint derisive groan. “Remind me to scratch you later for that one.”

                                                          &&&

Following a colorful (albeit very small) waddling quilt animal through an otherwise blinding array of white snow and sky proves to be astonishingly more difficult than either Muta or Haru would have expected. More than once they somehow lose sight of the thing, only to have to stop and strain their ears for its characteristic snuffling breaths. 

“It has two little stick legs and waddles like a sedated duck,” Muta complains at one point when they’ve lost it again. “How do we keep losin’ track of it?!”

“Hold on— Muta, I hear it again. It sounds really close.” Then, after a few seconds spent listening, she adds, “...Actually, it… sounds a little like it’s eating something, doesn’t it?”

This is all Muta seems to need to hear before turning on his heel and starting the opposite way.

“Where are you going?” Haru calls after him.

“I’m out!” He hollers back. “Nothing good comes outta anything that involves weird creatures feasting on stuff, I don’t care what it’s actually— woah!!”

“What is it— Muta, what’s wrong?” Haru dashes in the direction of his voice, fearing the worst. Yet she finds him with little difficulty, and in one piece, poised in the same horrified position a housewife might take were she confronted with a trail of muddy footprints across a formerly pristine linoleum floor.

At his feet, so close he could stretch out a paw and tip the little thing over were he so inclined, is the patchwork animal they’d been struggling to track… and the good luck charm Haru had abandoned earlier, which appears a little worse for the wear.

Muta dashes behind her with an unsteady gait, complaining the entire way. “Ughh, it’s even worse than what I was thinking—!”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Haru tries, even as she takes a repulsed step back at the faint sound of tearing meat and flinches. “...it’s still pretty bad, though.”

It’s as they’re watching from a couple paces away that the little thing lifts its ostensible head to… well, scrutinize them, Haru supposes, though it lacks the eyes to do so. Perhaps there is another, hidden sense that allows it to see in a less traditional manner.

Your trade is acceptable.

Haru can’t quite place it, how she Knows that this is what the creature before Muta and her is communicating, as it hadn’t spoken aloud, nor does she hear the words echoing in her mind as one might expect of a bizarre display of telepathy. Yet, still, the resounding statement is clear.

“O-Oh—” She starts, and her voice is like an echoing gunshot in the silence of the forest, which leads her to whisper her next words, “We’re, um, glad you like it.”

Then, as they watch, it drops its head again and continues tearing delicate slivers off the charm, seemingly oblivious to their presence again.

“Well, now what?” Muta says at her feet. He’s still eyeing the patchwork creature with no small measure of antipathy, but he’s at least not subtly hiding behind Haru anymore.

“I guess we… wait for it to finish..?”

“Great.” Muta sits down with an annoyed huff. “Doesn’t it know we’re on a tight schedule here?”

Haru laughs, but it’s tinged with a speck of nervousness.

If not for the unmistakable noise of flapping wings over the ever present hum of the forest, the resultant wind would certainly give Toto’s arrival away— there’s been not even the barest hint of a breeze since they’ve been searching. The crow perches atop a nearby tangle of branches, cocking his head in a distinctly avian fashion at the creature they’ve run across.

“Ha, looks like you’ve found one of the inhabitants.”

“What was your first clue?”

“The quilt creature down there, mostly.”

Muta, again feeling indirectly bested, only grumbles lowly to himself and crosses his arms. Instead, Haru speaks up.

“It’s taking this good luck charm as a trade for the berry. At least, that’s what it sounded like to me. I guess it’ll… um, show us the way once it’s finished..? I’m not sure how it works.”

“Sounds plausible to me. Baron and Vanya are some ways off in that direction,” Toto also adds, gesturing with his wing. “I’ll go to let them know they can stop searching, and bring them here. Be right back!”

Haru and Muta watch him take off, and for a little while until he’s too far in the distance for them to make out, before turning back to their… companions. It seems in their distraction, more of the little quilt animals had arrived, attracted no doubt by the scent of the ‘good luck charm’ Haru had laid down before the tree.

“They really like this icky stuff, don’t they?” Haru muses in an almost-laugh.

Muta pokes one of them on the top of its soft head, causing it to lose its balance and fall to the side. Grudgingly, he sets it rightside up again. “...Guess that little pipsqueak knew what he was talking about, after all.”

                                                        &&&

Elsewhere, Toto’s return trip hits an unforeseen, somewhat bizarre snag.

“The Very Pretty Vanya Creature does not fly through the air like an unsolicited blown kiss!” 

Baron and Toto share a puzzled, if slightly frazzled, look between them.

“Mr. Vanya, I sympathize if it’s a matter of a… ah, disdain for heights, but the time limit with which we’ve been burdened is perpetually ticking down, and we ought to do all we can to minimize wasted time,” Baron first tries.

“I’m a very careful flier, too. I promise you’ll have your feet on solid ground in no time at all,” Toto also adds.

But Vanya only shakes his head. “It is no matter of fear!” He begins in a manner that says fear is exactly the matter. “It is the principle! Pretty Vanya has no wings. He was meant to stay on the ground.”

It seemed there would be no convincing him. Baron turns to Toto.

“Toto, do you think then that you could fly a little ways overhead and guide us to the others? If we hurry, perhaps we’ll still make good time.”

Before them, Vanya wrings his paws fretfully before finally throwing one arm across his eyes and crying out, “Pretty Vanya must be left behind! He is the millstone dragging everyone else down!”

“N-Now— Mr. Vanya, please, don’t despair—”

“The Most Helpful Bureau must leave me behind,” Vanya insists again, this time without his face hidden, fixing Baron with a determined look. “I said it before, didn’t I? The Pretty Vanya Creature will meet you there in no time, because he is very fast.”

Faced with Vanya’s clear obstinate refusal and the added stress of a ticking clock, it doesn’t take long for Baron to give in, though the veneer of reluctance lingers over him still.

“V… Very well, Mr. Vanya. If you do insist. We’ll go on without you.”

"You will. But there's no reason to worry. It'll be all okay!"

"...Yes. Of course. Be careful."

As they’re flying away, Toto speaks up. “Do you think he’ll make it?”

Baron seems reluctant to answer, gaze distant and unfocused. Coupled with his stilted posture, it gives him the look of someone who is quite diligently trying to avoid jumping to an unpleasant conclusion.

“...It doesn’t matter,” he eventually responds quietly. “I suppose it’s not something which overtly needs his presence.”

“What about covertly?”

“Then we shall hope for the best.”

                                                          &&&

True to Toto’s ultimately fruitless attempts at reassurance, it seems only a matter of seconds when they have their feet back on solid ground, spotting Muta and Haru from the air easily enough and touching down just shy of them in the hopes of not startling the by now bristling crowd of tiny quilted animals surrounding the other two.

“Eh? Where’s the pipsqueak?”

“He chose to find his own way to our location,” Baron first explains in his impeccable manner.

“Scared of heights,” is Toto’s more honest addition.

Muta turns back to the quilt animals with an unimpressed scowl. “Figures. Just make us do all the dirty work.”

“Now, Muta, a genuine fear of heights is nothing to brush off.”

“Yeah, if it’s genuine…” Mumbled under his breath, but distinct enough for them all to hear, and that Baron (nor the other two) step in to offer a defense is telling… but also serves at least to inform them all that they’re all four on the same page.

“What about these little guys? Have they brought up the trade or the berry again?”

“No. I think they wanted to finish off the, um… trade first,” Haru says, looking from Baron and Toto to the gathering of quilt animals scattered about before them. She sits crouched on her haunches with her elbows on her thighs, gazing out at their odd companions with the same detached but amiable curiosity one might reserve for a child’s play.

“Can they really stretch out that one sticky charm enough for this many to have a bite of it?” She eventually notes with some incredulous amusement.

“They’re sure gonna try,” Muta snorts.

Finally, as they watch, in the distance it looks as if there are languid waves in the sea of brightly-colored patchwork, divots in the throng that speak to the movement of only a few individuals while the others part to let them pass.

It doesn’t take long; they soon find themselves approached for an apparent audience with a… particularly diminutive individual which separates from the group, one which also appears to have been adorned with a tattered shawl thrown over its body, which trails like a leaden weight after it (though upon closer inspection, this threadbare train is simply part of the little thing’s frame).

Some of the seams on its patchwork appear to be coming undone. Distantly, Haru wonders what will happen should they truly do so, and— quite swiftly derails her own thoughts before they can wander down distressing paths.

Strikingly, also, unlike the others, this one has been endowed with an eye— a single coffee-colored iris in startlingly familiar, human-shaped white sclera. Situated somewhat strangely off-centered atop its tapered, drooping head, it stares vacantly ahead, half-lidded.

The four of them feel themselves scrutinized by this seeming elder; even Muta has no complaint to offer in an attempt to hurry the process along.

Only one.

Haru can’t quite place it, how she Knows that this is what the little creature before them all is communicating, as it hadn’t spoken aloud, nor does she hear the words echoing in her mind as one might expect of a bizarre display of telepathy. Yet, still, the resounding caveat is clear.

Baron nods stiffly, appearing to have been caught off-guard in the same way the rest of them had. “Yes. Just the one.”

The quilt-like creature responds with some erratic, floppy movements that vaguely resemble an affirmative nod before placing the tapered end of its cloth snout into Baron’s hands, where it drops a single round, bright red berry. It’s about the size of a particularly plump blueberry, though it seems quite larger in Baron’s gloved hands. Seemingly satisfied, the little animal turns then, and begins to waddle away.

“Thank you,” Haru thinks to call after it.

Not too far into the future, they will all four find themselves remembering this particular phrase and wonder furiously why such an innocuous one seemed to have such a profound effect upon the Sown Forest’s minuscule inhabitants. For now, however, it’s little more than a curiosity, when the creature abruptly stops with an accompanying jerk, and then goes quite still.

The others surrounding them, too, copy this one’s motions.

“Uhh, I don’t like the look of that—” Muta starts, but he’s rather abruptly cut off by a hoarse, low-pitched bark which echoes through their surroundings. The four of them instinctively back up in alarm, a sentiment which only grows upon witnessing the little things begin convulsing, tossing their heads into the air and then back down, all the while emitting those same short roars like a baleful staccato.

“That’s loud—”

“I think it’s time we took our leave,” Baron says (he makes a motion to steady his hat, only to belatedly realize he’d left it behind). He’d liked that hat.

No sooner have they turned on their collective tails and fled that the Sown Forest’s inhabitants scuttle and crawl after them in whatever way they can, and despite their obvious disadvantages, the little things are startlingly adept at keeping up with them. Haru doesn’t have the nerve to give their pursuers the thorough, lingering look she wants, too intent on making sure her pounding steps remain even and sound, but the tight-knit mob’s thunderous pursuit is impossible to mistake. It’s not long before panicked discouragement sets in. To everyone’s surprise, it’s Baron who speaks up first.

“We won’t be outrunning them on foot—”

“Good thing we have a gargoyle chicken, then, isn’t it?!” Muta snaps, then calls to said ‘gargoyle chicken,’ “Hey, birdbrain—!”

“Toto’s many good and admirable things, Muta, but I doubt even he is strong enough to carry a full-grown human—”

Haru, overhearing this, burns with the inclination to wildly apologize, all too aware of the cracks of the trees and the deafening crunch of packed snow behind them. She bows her head in remorse, feeling fervently in this moment that her decision to tag along really had been a mistake. She’s so close to contemplating how far she might get should she separate from the group and divert the creatures away… when she notices something rather strange.

“Wait—” Haru gasps, glancing down to herself in a bewildered fashion, so much so that for a fleeting second she stops in her tracks and has to be tugged along by Baron. “I’m not the same size I was— when did I get this small—?!”

Baron sounds just as bewildered when he answers, though he at least moves past it, “Let’s not kick a gift horse, now— Toto!”

“Got it!”

If Toto at all struggles with the effort to carry all three of them, even if Haru has been unexplainably shrunken, then he’s quite gifted with hiding it. He takes off into the air with them, far above the swarming quilt creatures, with no less agility than he usually does, and Baron and Haru spend the next few moments surveying the horde raptly.

“Ya just had to thank them, didn’t you?” Comes Muta’s complaint from his not altogether eager spot in Toto’s talons.

“I was just trying to be polite!” Haru counters just as plaintively, but even she sounds at least a little remorseful. “What kind of place takes words of gratitude as an offense..?”

“They don’t show any signs of slowing down,” Baron notes.

“Are they really gonna chase us all the way to the border?! They barely have the legs to run! You really steamed them with that gratitude BS, chicky.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Haru laments.

“We know you didn’t, Haru, “ Toto tries to reassure.

“Ah, it’s Vanya,” Baron says with a nod in the fox’s direction; he looks quite small (smaller than usual, that is) from their height, rapidly looking between them in the air and the horde of… well, what look to be furious blankets swarming the forest below them. He’s motioning frantically to them to come closer, to land as quickly as they can.

“Is he crazy?! There’s no way we’re landing that close to the forest— if he doesn’t make a break for it, he’s gonna get smothered, too,” Muta says.

Seemingly as an exasperated response to their stubbornness, Vanya points to the forest behind them with an agitated zealousness, or, perhaps more specifically, the perimeter which is teeming with untold numbers of the tiny quilt creatures. The vast majority of them pace behind the line of trees, fretful and overwrought; the unfortunate few that have accidentally tumbled beyond it lie scattered and twitching on the snow-covered ground like marooned fish.

“What’s wrong with them..?”

“Looks like they can’t go beyond the trees,” Toto guesses.

When they land, still uneasy from the agitated mass of patchwork continuing to obsessively tread back and forth just a scant stone’s throw away, Vanya is swift to bound over to them, practically throwing himself at Baron and wrapping his arms around the Creation. If Baron had appeared disconcerted at the mere possibility of being given one of Vanya’s messy luck charms, he’s downright alarmed when being in no uncertain terms ‘glomped’ by the same creature.

“You made it! Pretty Vanya was worried!”

“What’s wrong with the forest’s inhabitants, Vanya?”

Vanya lets Baron go (much to his evident relief) and cants his head in thought.  “The Sown Forest exists as a powerful transformative milieu. Stay too long and one becomes part of it. The inhabitants can’t leave it.”

“What will happen to the ones that accidentally fell out of bounds?” Haru asks, glancing to the small number of quilt animals still lying pitifully just out of reach of the border of trees.

“They will die,” Vanya answers with a shrug. “Eventually.”

“But that’s awful! Can’t we just push them back into the forest..? Will they go back to normal then?”

“Yes.” Vanya sounds confused.

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” Haru says, starting for the border with a marked lack of hesitation. “There aren’t that many— it shouldn’t take long, should it?”

“Even less with assistance,” Baron agrees shortly, following after her.

“I guess we’re doing this now.” Muta, as well, trails after the two with a sullen grumble.

“Cheer up, kitty, exercise is good for you.”

“Don’t make me cook you.”

Behind them, Vanya, still holding Baron’s hat as if it were a priceless artifact, watches them leave with a hard to define look, moving just a foot or two from side to side (but never so much as a half-step forward). His tail twitches and flutters in a manner quite reminiscent of an inquisitive squirrel, with the searching mien to accompany it, but he ultimately says nothing and seems to content himself with killing time.

[hippychick006]

14.15 - Peace of Mind

I thought I’d do one of these for the current season. 

Meh is the word that comes to mind for this episode.  Not great, not a stinker, just meh.  Would I recommend it as a watch?  Possibly as background while you are doing more important stuff like cleaning. 

If it hadn’t already been yet another episode separating Sam and Dean in an entire season where Sam and Dean have been separated (with only a few exceptions), it might have been okay.  I really don’t think I’m complaining needlessly.  To put it into perspective, the people that I’m watching for (that by their own admission, the show say that the audience is watching for) had a grand total of 108 seconds sharing the same scenes this entire episode.  108 seconds and 50 of those were shared with Castiel.  And I’m just trying to imagine any other show doing this.  Like Starsky ditching Hutch constantly and going on investigations with side characters like Huggy Bear (because Huggy Bear is no longer just an informant, he’s an investigator because he’s a “fan favourite” character and his fans constantly ask, Where’s Huggy Bear so they made him part of the team even though he doesn’t fit).  WTF even is this?

Moving on...  

The story is credited to Steve Yockey/Meghan Fitzmartin and the teleplay to Meghan Fitzmartin.  This is the one people were a little worried about, given Meghan appears to be an open Destiel shipper (which has no place in the writers room or for anyone working on the show - completely unprofessional for anyone working to do anything that might give rise to calls of bias).  From what I can gather, Destiel fans appear to love Steve as they think any gay/bi character he writes is a parallel for Destiel.  It isn’t and although Steve’s given us a mixed bag, he did give us the witch twins in Celebrating the life of Asa Fox and Twigs & Twine and Tasha Banes.   I love the witch twins, great new, interesting characters that we no longer see because the show is obsessed with old, tired, done to death characters that only a very small, very loud section of fandom harp on about).  Sighs tiredly and moves on.

Reading between the lines, I think there was a close eye kept on this one and I think it worked because I can’t for the life of me see anything at all that’s a nod to Destiel.  If anything, the Sastiel shippers got all the cookies and good for them.  Enjoy those cookies Sastielers!  I’ll be over here drinking the hellers’ bitter tears.

I liked the opener, head go splody.  Though the guy that played the gas station clerk was a very questionable choice by casting.  If that had been his 1 minute, then fine, but no, we see him later in the episode and because of the known nepotism on the show, I’m automatically wondering if he’s child/brother/friend/third cousin twice removed of someone on the cast or crew because he is terrible (sorry kid, don’t listen to me, keep working at it, the only way is up).  

Oh great, yet another Cass/Jack conversation.  Cass is not the best at speaking to people as we’ll see later in the episode.  Screams into the void about the distinct lack of Sam and Jack this season.  I know we’re heading for something between them, but this is my problem (or one of many with Dabb).  I think he has the weird view that if he rations the good stuff, then it makes it all the better when we get it.  Not really, it just switches me off from watching the show. I want good every week, I don’t actually think that’s too much to expect from someone who is getting paid to entertain the audience and not bore them to death.  

Anyway, Jack thinks his snake is sad and Castiel suggests it might be missing his former owner.

Ah, now Dean and Cass talk – is there a checklist? If so, it’s missing “Sam and Dean” on it. Interestingly, as I’ve pointed out many times before, their conversations revolve around other people; usually Sam, but Rowena and Jack get included, because “family”  

Speaking of Sam, we switch to him and see he’s having flashbacks of the dead hunters, so he really isn’t doing good. Appears he’s trying to keep his mind off things by hunting constantly and has found another case.  He walks in on the awkward silence between Castiel and Dean (not awkward because he caught them awkward, just awkward because they’ve got nothing in common, other than talking about Sam and Jack and when that runs out it’s just... awkward).   Dean says he needs a break, but Sam’s leaving in ten.  End of.

Castiel: Maybe I should go with him and you can stay with Jack

Dean: Why?

Me: * Whispers * because Dabb hates us and he’s passive/aggressive about it.

Castiel: You were right… Jack is struggling, and I’ve tried…

Dean (interjecting): Why do you think he’ll talk to me

Castiel: Because he looks up to you (Dean rolls his eyes, so I don’t have to), and his soul, I mean… you’ve seen this before...

Me (interjecting again): You really think he’s the right person to handle someone soulless after he beat Sam beyond the point he was already unconscious. Seriously?  I’m with Dean on this one.

Dean: No, no, no, see I was not great with Sam.  You know when he was…

Thank you show for acknowledging this.  

Castiel: Jack’s soul isn’t completely gone.  At least I don’t think so, we just don’t know how much is left.

As I’ve already seen in other posts, my instant thought on this is “You can’t do the fist check?” I’m really tired of wondering what powers Castiel still has and what he doesn’t.  They seem to switch them on and off as needed.

Dean asks how he’s supposed to know.  Castiel says just talk to him, get him to open up.  

I completely understand why Castiel is not going to the obvious person for this – duh, Sam of course – because he feels Sam is overburdened as it is and going though his own issues, so this does actually make sense for me and I’m fine with people trying to keep him out of it while they try and deal with it (It will go wrong though).

Castiel is driving and I seriously have to question Sam’s driving ability at this stage since he’s either happy to be chaperoned around or they don’t trust him in the driver’s seat. Also, all the beautiful classic cars in the bunker and this is the clunker Castiel chooses to drive around in? Would some soap and wax go amiss?

We’re back with Griffin from earlier and least said about this scene the better. The guy is just terrible.  Sorry, but he is and unsurprisingly, only has 1 other credit as “Asian teenager” before getting this part.  

I love the drive through the town.  It’s obvious something is going on with all the clothes dating back to I’m guessing the 50’s.  Castiel: “It’s like we’re stepping into a Saturday evening post.”  Sam at least knows what this is, he’s just surprised that Castiel does.  I however have no clue, so had to google it and it’s a magazine that ran from 1897 to 1969. Here’s one of the covers:

Men doing menly things and women… I’m kind of not sure what she’s supposed to be doing.  I think looking clueless at the engine.  Anyway, Sam looks at Castiel who explains that he “looks at them sometimes after you fall asleep at night.”  Sastiel for the win on this one! Who isn’t picturing Castiel sitting up on the bed reading while Sam sleeps, hmmm? Because as we all know, Castiel has zero boundaries when it comes to personal space and Sam’s not likely to call him out on it, because he’s used to having his personal space invaded..   

I like that they are five minutes into the hunt and they already want to call Dean. They can’t though as no cell signal, so they are on their own.

We meet Justin Smith (the first).  I like him, he’s swell. But he’s yet another clue that all is not right here, not least because he doesn’t know what a cell phone is. My first suspect of being a witch is his stepford wife, so we’ll keep an eye on her.

We head to Harrington’s for a milkshake.  They’re looking around and the place is straight out the 50s, but I’ve been in diners that are set up like this, so it shouldn’t actually be that unusual.    What is unusual, is that Sam accepts a free milkshake from the waitress (Sunny) in a town that he’s investigating and that clearly is under the influence of something. Let’s put this down to Sam being tired (*whispers lazy plot driven writing).

Chip points them to the boarding house where splody head guy was staying.  I love the boarding house, but would have to change the outside colour. I also love that everyone knows who they are, and the owner of the guest house is no exception.  Small towns really are like this.

Back with Dean and Jack. Jack’s trying out different food with the snake.  Dean investigates a Chinese take-out container that he quickly discovers contains live mice and not take-out.  He suggests going out with Jack for a drive.  Jack is hopeful for a hunt, but Dean says more of a field trip. Jack’s okay with that, but first Dean wants bacon.  Of course he does.

At the boarding house, Sam and Cass are shown to splody head guy’s room. Sam asks for coffee, leaving Castiel free to search the room.  He finds some letters under the mattress and is reading them as Sam comes back.  And I know Jared has large hands (beautifully in proportion to the rest of him), but I think there is an element of also finding the tiniest teacups they can get a hold of. However, since this scene gives us another Sam drinks tea gif, I’m happy. Anyway, the letters are from Sunny and are explicit from the sound of them.  

Sam says great, they’ll look into it tomorrow.  He wants to stay at the boarding house because the landlady is making pot roast.  Oh oh.  Castiel for some reason lets this slide and leaves Sam overnight.

We’re now at my first suspects home with Justin Smith (the first).  He’s still talking about cell phones.  He’s started to remember who he is.  He runs out of the house and his head goes splody.  Poor guy.

I’m really not sure that Dean’s test for whether Jack has his soul is legit.  Choosing Angel food cake or Devil food cake.  Jack looks like he’s going to choose devil food cake which arouses Dean’s suspicions but at the last second, chooses angel food cake. Dean heaves a sigh of relief.  

It’s the following day and Castiel goes to check on Sam who isn’t there.  I like Mrs Dowling, the landlady who is cleaning and dancing. She tells him Sam was going for a walk and a milk shake.

Sam is not at the milk-shop place, but Sunny is there.  Castiel seems to be as pissed off as I am that Sam repeatedly gets referred to as “the tall one”.  Sunny tells him about Mr Smith dying so Castiel turns up to Mrs Smith’s house to investigate.  Yet another house I like. Where are all these beautiful houses in Vancouver?   Anyway, Mrs Smith doesn’t look all that upset that her husband has died.  Castiel says he’s looking for his “partner” and that he’s tall with “beautiful hair”. He could have added “drop dead gorgeous” but it’s better than just “tall” so I’ll let it slide.  Mrs Smith is clueless, and I have to question if she’s a robot at this point.

Castiel goes to sit in a chair and Mrs Smith screams.  I have the exact same reaction after I’ve cleaned everywhere, and someone comes in and starts dumping their stuff all over the place.   Castiel starts speaking about her dead husband but Mrs Smith laughs and asks if Castiel has already had a martini today.  We hear someone call “honey” and I don’t know why they tried to hide the person in this scene because Jared has a very distinctive voice so we know it’s him.

I love this next scene though.  We get “agent” from Castiel, but Sam responds that he is: “Justin… Justin Smith” then asks, “And you are?”

Castiel (winking): Your partner

Justin (still smiling): Partner?  Super, that’s swell, great…

Justin (the second), asks Castiel to stick around as they are “having pot roast”.  This seems to be a 50s staple.  Thank Chuck the 70s added prawn cocktail and blackforest gateaux.  I like to give Misha his due whenever possible and his confused face here is brilliant.  Mrs Smith is sent off to make a martini and Castiel tries to get to the bottom of things.  He’s still wondering if Sam is “under cover”.   But no, Sam really thinks he’s Justin Smith and married.  Mrs Smith comes back during this and says they are low on olives and asks “one or two”. Justin is a fussy one though and asks for “three” and adds that he’s “feeling adventurous.”  Mrs Smith does a perfect “rawrrr”, Justin  responds awkwardly “roarrrr”.  I just can’t with Jared in this scene.

I didn’t pick up on it, but with the three olives and “feeling adventurous”, added to Castiel’s wink and “partner” comment from earlier, other people are suggesting threesomes.  If that’s the case, Justin seems up for it.    

While Mrs Smith goes to get more olives (or slip into something more comfortable - who knows at this stage), Sam asks Castiel if he wants one (get your mind out the gutter, he meant martini).  Castiel tells him “Your name is Sam Winchester…” Justin: “So that’s a no no on the hootch?”  Castiel’s had enough and commands Sam to “snap the hell out of it.”

Justin: Sir, you watch your mouth, if we cannot remain civil, then you can skedaddle.

Castiel: Sam…

Justin: That’s not my name.  (He grabs Castiel to see him out). “Cindy, grab his hat.”

Castiel: I don’t wear a hat

Cindy: Honey, I don’t think he wore a hat

Justin: Fine.  

He shows Castiel the door. “Sir, using language like that; h e double hockey sticks (Sam shakes his head and waggles his finger).  You should have your mouth washed out with soap.

Castiel: Sam…

Justin: It’s Justin! (slams door closed).

Dean and Jack arrive at a house, Donatello comes running out.  He and Jack go inside to chat and Dean waits outside.  I think the next bit was supposed to be funny when Dean taps the car to check on the snake then slides along to get away from it.  It wasn’t funny.  And that isn’t on Jensen at all, he’s a really funny actor, it’s on the material.  Don’t force the comedy elements.  Yellow Fever was genius, this attempt is lame.  

Donatello and Jack talk about souls.  And in sharp contrast to Jared with the ridiculous tiny cup earlier, could they have found a bigger cup for Alex? Donatello tells Jack that not having a soul is a lack of pity, empathy, humanity. He asks what Jack feels.  Jack doesn’t know.  He doesn’t feel nothing, but he doesn’t feel the same either. He just doesn’t want Sam, Dean and Castiel to worry.  Donatello, “They’re your family.  Families worry.” (Family mention box ticked – phew, I really thought we were going to get through an entire episode without one).   Donatello tells him he always asks himself “What would Mr Rogers do?”  Jack asks who Mr Rogers is and Donatello answers, “The best man I know.”

Jack: Sam and Dean are the best men I know. (heh!)  Look, I know Castiel isn’t a man, just let me have my petty moment in peace!

Donatello suggests that Jack thinks of WWWD.  What would the Winchesters do.  But considering the Winchesters have continually sacrificed themselves for the other, I’m not so sure this is such sterling advice.

Jack returns to Dean and Dean asks Donatello if Jack is okay and does he have his soul.

Donatello: I suppose the first question we must ask ourselves is… what is a soul?

Dean (I am not in the mood for your shit): Donny...

Donny says to keep an eye on him but if he says he’s okay, he probably is.  He goes on to say that Jack is the most powerful being in the universe, who knows what goes on inside his head.  They both turn to the car and Jack gives a dorky wave.   Dean is not in the least reassured.

Back at Harrington’s milkshake place, Castiel has decided that Sunny is the witch.   He says to tell him the truth or he’ll rip it from her mind (keep an eye on these powers, I’m pretty sure they won’t work the next episode).

Turns out not to be Sunny, but the mayor, he has Justin (the second) with him and he doesn’t look amused, he’s at least a little mildly ticked off with Castiel.

We then get villain monologue – why do villains do this? – Just get on with it. Long story short, Chip can make people do whatever he wants.  Sunny runs out during this - I don’t blame her - and Chip runs after her, leaving Justin and a couple of other goons to deal with Castiel:

Castiel (to Sam): I won’t hurt you, Sam

Justin: Golly, I told you my name is Justin!

Justin is a terrible fighter, even someone as bad as Castiel normally is manages to put him on his back (Sastiel for the win).  Castiel’s actually doing well this fight, but Justin suddenly realises he’s got height and weight advantage and lunges at Castiel, taking him down.  He sees Castiel’s angel blade and pulls it from his sleeve – and if this was Dean and Castiel, the hellers would be going wild right about now, about Destiel being end game and true love (because nothing says true love like one partner trying to kill the other).  Anyway, for anyone interested in the whole top/bottom debate, Sam is on top, but he’s cowgirl in this scene so I’m calling this topping from the bottom.  Don’t @ me top!Sam people!

Moving on, Castiel does that thing where he talks, and he shouldn’t.  He says he knows what it’s like to fail as a leader.  That Sam needs to fight and not lose himself, because if he does, he fails them, all of those they lost, he fails Jack. He fails Dean.  Sam raises the blade and slams it down…

So, a couple of things on that.  The narrative once again saying Sam has “failed” in some way kind of completely sucks. Done with Sam being told things like that and everyone else getting told they did good (*coughs* letting Lucifer out of the cage the second time around *coughs*).  But I’m sure I’ll get hurt!Sam out of it and Dean seems to be the trigger word for Sam to snap out of things so toxic co-dependent bros for the win.

…Sadly the blade slams into the diner flooring and Castiel lives to hunt another day (tries to summon up a “yay” but fails miserably).    But Sam’s back to normal (yay!!!).  

They exit the diner to stop Chip, who TK’s Castiel through the air and tries to kill Sam.  Sunny’s had enough though and uses her own powers on Chip, trapping him inside his own mind.

Dean and Jack are back at the bunker.  Dean asks Jack if he had a good time, Jack: “It was… illuminating.”  

Before Dean can process that statement, Sam and Castiel are also back.   Dean not one to miss some good brotherly ribbing: “I heard you wore a cardigan.” Sam turns to Castiel.

Castiel: Yeah, I told him about the cardigan.

Jealous!Dean alert: And the wife. (Sam looks at Castiel again).  He said you were… really happy.

Castiel decides it’s time for him to exit stage left and goes to find Jack.

As usual with getting nothing out of the episode, the hellers are making a lot more out of the “off screen” conversation between the “hunter husbands” than merits.  Of course Castiel told Dean what happened, it’s more than his life’s worth not to if Dean found out Sam had been in danger and Castiel didn’t tell him.  The phone conversation would have went something like this.

Castiel: Now, don’t get angry, Dean.  First of all, the important thing is that Sam’s fine... now...

Dean: WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY BROTHER?!

Back in Jack’s room, he tries to do what Sam and Dean would do.  He thinks they would help the snake so uses his powers to Thanos the snake to the afterlife so it can be with it’s owner again in heaven.  Jack, I really don’t think the owner would have passed the abacus good/bad test so no idea where you actually sent that snake other than purgatory.  Camera pans out and Castiel is watching from the doorway.  Parenting advice from me Castiel: you need to trust your teenagers and give them space.  Constantly checking on Jack is just going to make him feel closed in.      

[sweetcatmintea]

Chicken Feathers

There was a post floating around that I lost about writing/talking about scary stories on the weekend so I figured I’d try to write a short, creepy story. It’s neither my strongest genre nor favourite tense, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :) Feedback appreciated!

Update: There’s an audio version of this story here :)

(Photo credit x)

Words: 1146

My chickens are dead. I’m down to one. Bodies gone but the evidence is overwhelming. Feathers litter the grass, an unnatural snow in suffocating heat. They stick here and there, poking out of the wire mesh. My lone chicken scratches at the hay, looking for a tasty morsel. She is indifferent to her shelter’s disgrace. I’ve lost another battle with the unforgiving wilderness that presses against my home. One by one, my birds vanish. Crows, I’d presumed. They were brazen in this area. It wouldn’t be the first time they have stolen from me. Though they jeered overhead, this was not their crime. My chickens were pulled through the wire mesh. The signs were clear. If not crows, it was probably foxes. I sigh, heading back to the house. Nothing more can be done to secure the coop. The feathers would blow away with time.

Buster sits beside me as I exchange my crocs (ugly but useful) with sturdier footwear. He’s a useless guard dog but is always by my side. I lace the boots tight against my ankles. This time of year snakes are as common as thunderstorms. He pushes his nose into my thigh, evidently pleased he could reach now I’m closer to his level. Hopefully I don’t smell particularly nice to him. He vanished a week ago to roll in who knows what. I’ve washed him at least three times since then but I swear it’s lingering. Maybe it’s just the memory of the stench burnt into my sinuses. I’ll wash him again when I’m done.

A fence splits my property in two. A house with a nice lawn, a rainwater tank, and a chicken coop on one side. Untamed bushland crashing in on itself with chaos only nature can sustain on the other. A chain-link fence enforcing the separation. The land had proven too difficult to develop, a deep valley cutting through the terrain. I consider myself lucky to live next to it.

Buster is excited. He pushes past me before I can tell him to stay in the yard. He loves tearing through the thick grass and chasing scents of animals long gone. Everything is sharpened by drought. He doesn’t care. Cicadas screech from surrounding trees, the spacing of which may fool you into believing the terrain is easily traversed. Gnarled roots and felled branches hide under foliage, waiting to trip me at every step. Thorned vines grab at my jeans, an inland rip tide. I follow the sloping path, once a creek, placing each foot with care. Crawling through this razor grass with a broken ankle is the last thing I need.

Cicadas continue to screech. Thick cobwebs bar my descent. Push through or go around? Despite the overgrown nature of this place, there aren’t that many places a fox would hide here. There’s a small clearing at the end of this path that may harbour my criminal. I don’t think I can reach it via detour. Through it is.

Buster snuffles around a decomposing log as I clear the webs with a long stick. What looks like rabbit fur is stuck to the bark. He’s particularly interested in that. It could be a sign I’m on the right track. It could also be left over brunch from an eagle. I’ve seen them fly in here on occasion. I should have made Buster stay on the other side of the fence. A fox could do a lot of damage to a small dog. Although, I’m looking for the den, not the culprit itself. All I want is proof of what I’m fighting with so I know what to do. Cicadas continue to screech.

Sweat beads on my brow. The grass is as tall as my hips down here. Burrs cling to me as I wade through it, almost tripping as Buster crosses in front of me. He is engulfed. Only the rustle of yellow-green stalks beating against one another betrays his location. Following the path is more difficult, but not impossible. I’ve been down here a few times. There are no feathers yet. They may have been lost in the foliage. An awful stench catches me off guard. Hot garbage slurry left to ferment in the summer heat. Naturally it only gets stronger as I press forward.

Clicking instruction to Buster, keep him close to me, I harden my resolve. He brushes against my knee, nosing my thigh for a moment. Cicadas continue to screech. If I don’t find out what’s been harassing my birds, I can’t stop it. I have to protect my animals.

Collar pressed over my nose, I trudge on. One step. Two steps. The end of the grass is in sight. Our destination just beyond. Still no feathers. Buster pants behind me. I need to walk him more. The scent mixes with lantana. Its newfound sharpness nauseating. I breach the grass. Hardened earth greets me, flattened by the whims of time. Pushing leafy branches out of the way, I finally reach the destination. Thick foliage deflects the sun’s harsh glare, cooling the clearing significantly. Shadows dapple the deep brown dirt underfoot. A soft breeze ripples the leaves, permitting me a chance to breath. It carries a rot, but not the all-encompassing stench I had been choking on. A suggestion of ruddy orange lies ahead, shielded by a tangle of plants. Cicadas shriek. A glance behind me brings some relief. Buster is still roaming through the grass. He hasn’t noticed. We should go back. I had my confirmation. We should go back but I’m curious. Buster is distracted. We should go back but I press forward. Creeping closer, my breath a hostage. I’ve never seen a wild fox before. Boots barely leave the ground for fear of announcing myself. The orange remains still. Sleeping soundly after his forbidden meal. Creeping closer, foxes smell a lot worse than I thought. Too close now. Will I be rewarded for my bravery or punished for my hubris? Closer still.

Crack.

A single twig is the loudest thing in the world. The bushes move. A black cloud flees the area. The orange does not. Flies? The silence of the cicadas is deafening. Heart in my throat, I part the branches. The fox... Is dead? Unable to look away, I stare at it. It’s twisted. A limp patchwork pelt over the idea of a body. As though a child’s drawing were forced into reality. It was dead. It had been for some time. There were no feathers here. The breeze stills. The smell comes back with a vengeance. The only thing stopping me heaving is the prickle running down my spine. Buster pants behind me. Hot, rancid breath beats against my ear. I’m not sitting down. Don’t turn around. My shadow is swallowed by another. Don’t turn around. Buster is a terrible guard dog. He never even barked when the chickens disappeared.  

[amoristt]

Among the Inbetweens | Nathan x Reader

disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.

thank you.

moody-patootie asked: I would please like to request a nathan x reader songfic with the song Findlay by Landon Tewers (angsty perhaps?). If it is possible and interests you of course. I think it fits rather well with nathan since he was so unloved.  sure thing!! i love song requests so much :3 also thanks for recommending me this song, i love it and i now have a new artist to look into :D in this fic i really wanted to explore the ‘bad parts’ of being in a relationship with nathan prescott, namely his breakdowns. in my fics i mostly portray him in his better, more loving lights, so when you suggest angst i realized now would be a perfect time to show his sides that are harder to deal with. thanks for giving me the opportunity <3 hope you like it!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Among the Inbetweens

Upon the very instant you walking into his room, unaware of what you were about to throw yourself into, you realized you really should have called Nathan before just barging in.

The tenacity in the air was almost palpable and it set off alarms that rang in your head like bells, warning you of the situation you were about to have to deal with. Nathan, sitting at his desk with his back faced to you, his shoulders squared and his head ducked down to his shoulders. He was angry.

“Nathan?”

He lifted his head, turned and he glared at you from the corners of his eyes. You felt your stomach drop.

Not mad. Pissed.

“What.” He deadpanned, his voice a rumbling hiss, and you debated just turning around and leaving right then and there.

You swallowed and shut his door behind you, shuffling into the room but staying close to the wall. “What’s wrong?”

The course, airy laugh he forced out made you cringe. 

“Same shit every fucking day,” He laughed viciously. “Day in, day out.”

“What happened?”

In an impulsive, fury induced movement, he shoved all the papers off his desk and turned his swivel chair to face you. You jumped at the movement, taking note of his aggression only increasing. His features were stone cold, eyes narrowed and chilling. His phone was gripped almost devastatingly tight in his right hand. This was bad. Very bad.

“What happened?” He asked as though you were dumb. You frowned.

“Yes, what happened?”

He suddenly stood, sending his chair back and hitting his desk, shaking it and tipping over the small jar of pencils he had sitting on top of it. They spilled and rolled over the edge, clattering on the floor.

“What do you think happened?”

Try as you might to not take his words personally, you still knit your brows at his crudeness. He’s just mad, you told yourself. He’s so fucking mad but it’s not at you.

“I’m so fucking-” he gripped his hair and stumbling back. “Sick of it, everything- I don’t even fucking live with them and they still- Ugh!” He kicked some of the pencils that laid near his feet. “I hate it!”

Of course you knew the minute you saw his anger it likely had something to do with his family, but this wasn’t just his normal agressions. He was blind right now, not thinking clearly as he sent another pencil skittering over the floor. You remained silent, unsure of way to say, and you guessed maybe it was best you didn’t say anything at all. Right now was not the time to console him.

A storm was coming and you could see it in his eyes, his stature.

“They don’t care!” He snarled, and you realized he was more venting out his anger to himself rather than saying it directly to you. A pit formed in the center of your stomach as you realized what was to come any second now. He turned his back on you, body trembling with fiery rage. For just a second he looked down at the phone still in his hand, then he store his gaze away, and the next thing that happened you almost didn’t register.

The phone came less than a foot from your head, clashing against the wall with what sounded like a fatal crack. It happened so fast, you’d barely even seen him whip his arm to launch the device, and you flinched seconds after it smashed into pieces. The pieces gathered in a pile on the floor, the phone now absolutely destroyed and covered with it’s own screens shards. The wall sported an inch long hole.

Nathan did not come out of his rage even after you cried out sharply, jerking away from your spot and swearing you had felt some of the glass fling against your arms. If anything he seemed even more tense and furious than before, his bony hands balling and un-balling dangerously. He wanted to swing at something, break something, hurt something and even though he’d never once gone so far as you injure you this time you wondered if it would be a first. There wasn’t one clear thing in his mind right now, it probably all felt like a mush, or maybe static. He wasn’t even close to being in his right mind. Maybe tonight was his breaking point.

With him standing menacingly in the center of the room you made your way along the wall, finding his bed and soundlessly settling yourself on top of it. You tried to make yourself smaller upon it, your legs tucking themselves to your chest. Knowing him and his triggers, you did not look directly at him. Instead you watched from the corners of your eyes, head turned incase he looked up at you so you could quickly turn away and pretend to not see the hate in his eyes.

“Bullshit,” he seethed, and hissing ferocity made you shiver. “It’s all fucking bullshit.”

You wanted to talk to him. You wanted to tell him it was okay to be upset, to be hurt, to hate, but you couldn’t. Surely if you dared to speak up to him directly right now he’d yell at you, and then you’d end feeling hurt and that wouldn’t help anyone. Right now Nathan needed silence. He needed space and solitude. He could get none of these things.

So much was gathering up inside of him, like a pit of snakes or something far worse. They coiled and writhed inside of him, made their way up to his heart and choked the life out whatever was left of it, and he was left facing the consequence of having your entire chest busted and tied. Without an outlet all of it manifested at the very base of his throat, behind his eyes, in the palms of his shaking fists that would do anything for a face to target. You’d never seen him this way, with such a spark that made you feel like everything around you was suddenly so flammable, you included. You stared at him like you imaged a rabbit would stare at a fox: terrified and frozen with apprehensive tension. At any moment you felt like he’d lunge at you, but he didn’t, and it only made the trepidation grow within you until you almost imaged him making his move.

Only, it wasn’t your imagination.

He did make his move, but you were not the paper he lit on fire. Instead it was he himself, his fingers tracing their way down his face, nails biting into his pale skin and dragging along the way. A sharp painful cry left his lips but you felt as though the agony wasn’t from the physical wounds he was dealing onto himself. When he was done with his first path he did it again, harder this time, eyes squeezed shut and his mouth a tight grimace. Without even thinking you sprang into action and made a move for his hands, gripping tight to his skinny wrists and all too easily prying them from his marked up face. At the sudden contact he tried to yank away but you held fast, tugging him with you as you took a step back to try and keep himself from trying again.

“Stop!” You begged, heart leaping and your breath billowing in your throat. He was still trying to rip away from you, stumbling backwards and jerking back his elbows. When he looked up at you, you did not recognize even a single part of those eyes. He was more akin to a wild animal, frightened and frantic, than he was human. His eyes were dark and afraid, and at that moment they were afraid of you.

You felt like you were wrestling with him but you didn’t give in, holding fast and unwavering even as he started giving into it. His will was draining now, that fury that had once been eating him alive beginning to combust inside of him. The compressions of his heart and chest started to loosen and you hoped he felt like he could breathe again.

“Nathan,” try as you might to reach him, he still limply tried to pull away from you. His actions were half hearted and tired but still consistent, so you didn’t lighten your grip until the last of his anguished tugs were replaced with tortured breaths. You carefully led him to the bed where you had been sitting, and although he was sluggish and lagged behind your movements, he still followed you and did not fight when you urged him to sit down beside you.

Countless marks ran down his face, angry and red. The nails on his shaking hands were short but apparently dangerous, able to work as claws if he was enraged enough. Luckily they weren’t sharp or uneven enough to draw any blood but the marks were still very radiant, running down from his brows, over his eyelids, to his sharp cheekbones like a ugly streamers. His split lip still bled from how hard his teeth had sank into the flesh, and his tongue still darted out to subconsciously try and soothe the stinging.

At least he was letting you touch him. Even if his state of breaking, all his walls starting to crumble down and crush him, he was allowing you the grace of sitting next to him and silently offering whatever support you could. There was so many words swimming in your head, so much you wanted to say that you could almost physically feel it bubbling up in your chest, threatening to burst at any moment.

Nathan, leaning forward with his face in his hands, was both silent and deafening. No longer did his shoulders tense up, fists ready to crack on any surface they could find. He was quiet and still, but there was also a part of him that roared like thunder. His cries.

They were soft, barely noticeable unless you were to see his state, but to you they were all you could hear. Loud, unforgiving, piercing. Your chest ached with every angry sob, every harsh intake of his uneven breaths. Before you had been afraid he was too far gone during his act of rage but it always came back down to this, both soundless yet thunderous. He was the calm of his own storm, and he was a rain that licked away it’s wounds afterwards. He was both the ferocious river, dragging everything along with it, and the gentle trickle that followed close behind.

Your hand met the expensive fabric of his jacket and he didn’t respond, so you let it wander past his shoulder to his upper back. Up, down, gently rubbing over his clothed skin. Not only was the repetitive movements hopefully helping him, but they were also helping you. You timed your breathing to the movements, your thudding heart starting to come down from your previous fears. You should have known it would come down to this. Nathan could be the scariest person you’d ever met, but even he got tired eventually. The only thing that presented a problem afterwards was everything bounding in your head, from the things he’d blindly said to you to the things he’d blindly thrown at you. His phone still laid demolished on the floor a few feet away, that new crack in the wall taunting you.

“Nathan,” you whispered, and he didn’t answer. “Nathan?”

He still didn’t answer. His muffled sobs continued on, adding weight after weight to your chest and making your own eyes sting. You gently scratched against the top of his jacket before rubbing in small circles.

“Can you hear me?”

Thankfully Nathan did seem to be able to hear you. He nodded and then sniffed, then let his hands fall limply to his lap. The sight of his face, still littered with claw marks but now glistening with tears, made you have to look away for a minute.

Now that you had his attention your mouth ran dry, unsure of what to say next. You’d wanted his attention to make sure he was lucid in some ways, but now that he was waiting for you to say something you had no idea what you could possibly tell him to make this situation any more bearable. Actually, you didn’t even know the situation, how could you possibly help him?

Still though, his eyes reached yours, longing and expectant. He wanted you to say something, anything. As always it made you wonder how someone as mountainous as Nathan could appear so small at times, like a small child asking you for help; needy, afraid. The worst possible thing you could do right now was not say anything, so you wracked your brain for literally anything to say.

“Are you okay?” You’d blurted, and the second those words left your mouth you wanted to smack it. ‘Are you okay?’ The question was so painfully obvious, so ludicrous and dense, but he went on to answer it anyways, looking down at his lap.

“No.”

His voice was much… Softer than you’d anticipated. Then it struck you that no, his voice did not sound soft, it sounded broken. Soft was kind and gentle, warm to the ears and touch, but his was none of those things. His answer was blunt and simple, cold, and raw with scratches on his throat. The walls that which buried him had yet to disappear, so instead of fighting them he gave in. Nathan was tired, exhausted from his previous outburst that he’d likely be replaying in his head for the rest of the week. Every little thing would set him off in the worst ways.

Your hand found it’s way to his lower back, but this time he tensed beneath your palm, so you slid it right back up to the spot he’d been compliant with. “Is there anything I can do?” Once again your words felt dumb. After what you’d seen simple minded questions were likely the last thing you should be asking him about. But, you didn’t want to ask him what had happened. Of course you were curious but you didn’t want to trigger him into another melt down, especially not when he was already so jaded and worn out.

For a moment he looked at you, turning his head just enough to get his peak before once again covering his face and shaking his head. “No.” He mumbled, and you frowned in defeat. There wasn’t anything you could truly do for him other than stay at his side, offer some sort of grounding and peace for him to come back to when he’s released with his post-meltdown exhaustion.

“You should go.”

At first words didn’t register with you. You blinked at him a few times, processing, understanding, until you finally realized what he had said. “What?” you asked softly, leaning forward and trying to get a look into his eyes past his shielding hands. Never once had he asked you to leave him during a time like this. Usually it was the opposite, him calling for your aid during even his worst times of needs, but this time he didn’t want you to be there with him.

Once again he let his hands fall to his knees, his fingers toying with the fabric of his jeans. “You should go.” He repeated himself and didn’t meet your gaze, staring straight down. Your throat felt like it had been punched.

“Are you sure?” You asked.

“Yeah.” He answered.

You hated the way it made you feel. It made you feel an entire combination of things, but the most prevalent were useless and… Hurt. He didn’t want you to be around him, and though part of you understood it was because he was likely tired and wanted isolation, you still couldn’t help but take that blow to your ego.

Still, you nodded aimlessly, and swallowed down the rock forming at the center of your throat.

“Okay.” Your voice wavered and you knew he heard it with how he squeezed his eyes shut, almost in pain at hearing the sound.

As you got up, feeling like an animal with it’s tail in between it’s legs, you gazed down at him and took in the sight. Him just sitting there in silence, his entire body still slumped but not of relaxation, his face stinging with self inflicted scratches and his eyes still full of humiliating tears. There wasn’t a single thing you could do for him, and you finally understood what years of this had been doing to Nathan. In this moment you could see everything on him: the years of abuse, the pressure, the way he felt so unloved. The childhood trauma. Though you knew he beared these scars and marks you’d never seen them until this point, and it left you breathless. You so desperately wanted to stay, but you knew he wouldn’t let you even if you begged.

Nathan seemed to have read your mind. “I’ll call you.” was all he offered, a subtle way of telling you it was time to leave. You nodded again and thanked him softly, though you didn’t know exactly what you were thanking him for. Turning your back and leaving him felt entire levels of wrong but you did so anyways, and as you opened his dorm door you caught sight of that damn phone again and for some reason that was the one thing that finally let your tears take shape and leave a burning trail down your cheek. You shut the door softly behind you as you left and leaned against it on the other side, holding your sobs in with the palm of your hand.

The entire way home those tears still rolled down your face, from the moment you stepped out of the dorm room to the instant you stepped back into your own. They felt like scratch marks of their own and thankfully you didn’t run into anyone. All you wanted to do, you found, was lay down and sleep. You were tired too, and welcomed your mattress with a loud thud. Silence took it’s place and hung uneasily heavy over your room, cloaked your mind and body with fog.

You didn’t want to move from your place. You didn’t even want to roll over, not having the energy to even breathe evenly it seemed. With a whole lot of urging you managed to force yourself onto your back, staring up at your ceiling through blurry eyes. Things like this had happened so many times before, you’d think you’d have gotten used to it, but this time it felt… Different. You felt so unnaturally lonely.

Roughly you wiped at your eyes and sniffed, laying there on top of your blankets and pillows, wondering about Nathan as usual. After you’d left, what did he do? Did he cry, have another fit, break more things in his room? Or, worst of all, did he do nothing?

You felt selfish to be hurt at the idea of him doing nothing when you left, but you couldn’t help it. Something about the way he sounded, the way he looked at you, felt entirely new and you didn’t like it. His expression didn’t have any substance, his eyes almost entirely empty towards you. Perhaps tonight was his breaking point, but not nearly in the way that you had imagined it would be.

Sitting at your side your phone sat like a brick, unalerting and silent. ‘I’ll call you’, he’d said, but there wasn’t a thing in his voice that led you to believe he actually would.

The entire night felt strange and alien. It felt wrong, like it shouldn’t have happened, or should have happened a different way. You wondered what it was you could have done to change things even though it meant nothing now that it had all happened. You couldn’t go back in time, you couldn’t change the course of your actions, what little ones you had done.

Your ceiling, white and simple, served as a holder for your eyes to unfocus on. Though tired, anxious, and hurt, you just sat there in silence and waited to hear that obvious and obtrusive ringtone of yours. You waited until you finally fell asleep, eyes heavy with tears and uncertainty.

Your phone still sat beside you the entire night.

There was nothing.

[russian-writer]

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?

BOLD ANY WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT THEY LIKE (For the basics) OR CAN BE TAKEN TWO WAYS (For the quotes) REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST.

TAGGING : Anyone who wants to! TAGGED BY :  Taken from meself

BASIC :

fire. ice. water. air. earth. claws. fangs. wings. gold. diamonds. grass. leaves. trees. roses. metal. iron. rust. rain. snow. lace. silk. cotton. sun. moon. stars. blood. dirt. mud. silver. steel. sugar. salt. lavender. pomegranate. foxglove. glass. wood. paper. wool. fur. smoke. ash. ocean. bruises. scars. wind. spices. light. dark. paint. charcoal. wine. hard liquor. sweat. dust. bare feet. canine. feline. coffee. tea. candles. sword. dagger. staff. arrow. hammer. shield. gun. spikes. sand. rocks. roots. feathers. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. herbs. waves. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. clay. stone. brick. lions. wolves. foxes. ravens. crows. mountains. chains. quicksand. poppy fields.

QUOTES :

“ YOU RISE, I FALL, I STAND, YOU CRAWL, YOU TWIST, I TURN. ” / the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ YOU’LL GET IT DONE BEFORE THE DAY IS UP. ” / GUILT THAT ISN’T YOURS TO HAVE. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / “ how could you do this to me? ” / THE SHARP STING OF GUILT. / YOU FEEL SOMETHING EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE PAID TO DO THE OPPOSITE / THE FAMILY YOU NEVER HAD. / falling backwards through time. / DROWNING, BUT YOU DON’T SAVE YOURSELF. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ they smile like a snake. ” / you’re the stars and the sky. / THERE’S A PART OF YOU THAT COULDN’T STAY AWAY EVEN IF YOU WERE FORCED TO. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “ lets take off somewhere. lets fly. ” / YOU EDGE A BIT TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. / THE PRECIPICE YOU CALL HOME HAS A TIP YOU’LL REACH EVENTUALLY. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / “ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before. ” / YOU DISAGREE; THEY’RE MORE BEAUTIFUL. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down.  / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “ OH GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? ” / roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. / your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / THE SIMILARITIES BETWEEN DEEP SPACE AND DEEP WATER. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. /  YOU TRIED TO HELP, BUT IT ONLY GOT WORSE. / NOW THEY’RE DEAD, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / THEY LIE SO PERFECTLY YOU ALMOST FORGET YOURSELF. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. /what a pretty one, they say. / directionless laughter. / “ love, I think I’m dying. ” / A SOFT, HOLLOW SPOT SITS IN YOUR CHEST. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / there will always be someone ready to break your neck and relieve you of the weight. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think of you as weak. you are, maybe. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. /“ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” / “ jump. I dare you. ” / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “ I was hoping that you’d understand. ” / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “ I MISS YOU. ” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / “ they say your name is death. ” / all-consuming passion. / THINK ABOUT THE THINGS YOU DID. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “ what are you waiting for? ” / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. / THE BURN WAS SO SLOW, NO ONE EVER SAW IT COMING. / LEARN THROUGH TEACHING. / “ have you ever thought about why trees bleed? ” / sleeping nude as a means to declare you want to stay. / “ go down with me, fall with me. ” / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. /YOU WILL DO ANYTHING TO KEEP THEM / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / “ mad men know nothing, but you should have seen me ” / “ my blood ran cold. ” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you. / “ your eyes make me want to do terrible things. “ / gaping as the river swallows her whole / rose brambles claiming your home / power is power / i am the night. / lust and loss call used feet that rhythmically hit the pavement. / dark hair and a glance thrown over a shoulder / THEY CALL YOU ANGEL AND DEVIL IN THE SAME BREATH / YOU HAVE CEASED TO BE YOURSELF; ONLY WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO BE REMAINS / flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart / brother; what’s my name? / whatcha gonna do when the chips are down? / wouldn’t you have done the same? / you can have your principles as long as you’ve a belly full / lover’s desire / what remains? / when you were mine the world seemed to burn / apocryphal vows delivered upon hands and knees / BEWARE THE MUSIC OF THE DEAD, FOR IT SHALL LEAD YOU LIKEWISE UNTO DEATH.

[griefburdened-a-blog]

BOLD ANY WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT THEY LIKE OR CAN BE TAKEN TWO WAYS. REPOST & NOT REBLOG.

TAGGING : @ofgoodplace , @ofbadplace / @hawkinsdaughter , @momwheeler , @dcdharringtcn , @wheelerwinemom , @outcfmymind , @monsterspied , anybody else who’s up for it! TAGGED BY: nobody, I took it from myself actually. lol

BASIC :

fire. ice. water. air. earth. claws. fangs. wings. gold. diamonds. grass. leaves. trees. roses. metal. iron. rust. rain. snow. lace. silk. cotton. sun. moon. stars. blood. dirt. mud. silver. steel. sugar. salt. lavender. pomegranate. foxglove. glass. wood. paper. wool. fur. smoke. ash. ocean. bruises. scars. wind. spices. light. dark. paint. charcoal. wine. hard liquor. sweat. dust. bare feet. canine. feline. coffee. tea. candles. sword. dagger. staff. arrow. hammer. shield. gun. spikes. sand. rocks. roots. feathers. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. herbs. waves. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. clay. stone. brick. lions. wolves. foxes. ravens. crows. mountains. chains. quicksand. poppy fields.

QUOTES :

“ you rise, I fall, I stand, you crawl, you twist, I turn. ” / the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / “ you’ll get it done before the day is up ” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / “ how could you do this to me? ” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ they smile like a snake. ” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “ lets take off somewhere. lets fly. ” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. / the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / happiness is the best front a man can make. / “ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before. ” / you disagree; they’re more beautiful. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “ oh god, what have you done? ” / roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. / your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you tried to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. / crisp red apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. / what a pretty one, they say. / directionless laughter. / “ love, I think I’m dying. ” / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / you share a space, but not a mind. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” / quick to anger. / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” / “ jump. I dare you. ” / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / marble under the sun. / “ I was hoping that you’d understand. ” / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / court hearings. / “ I miss you. ” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / a lone wolf separated from its pack. / “ they say your name is death. ” / all-consuming passion. / think about the things you did. / feed off the daylight. / no signs of life. / “ what are you waiting for? ” / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / the burn was so slow, no one ever saw it coming. / learn through teaching. / “ have you ever thought about why trees bleed? ” / sleeping nude as a means to declare you want to stay. / “ go down with me, fall with me. ” / black on black on black on black on bl — / the long game. / restless hands. / you will do anything to keep them. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / “ mad men know nothing, but you should have seen me ” / “my blood ran cold. ” / power corrupts. / wood grain and nail tracks. / no scales are strong enough to judge you. / your eyes make me want to do terrible things. / gaping as the river swallows her whole / rose brambles claiming your home / power is power / i am the night. / lust and loss call used feet that rhythmically hit the pavement. / dark hair and a glance thrown over a shoulder / they call you angel and devil in the same breath. / you have ceased to be yourself; only what they want you to be remains. / flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart / brother; what’s my name? / whatcha gonna do when the chips are down? / wouldn’t you have done the same? / you can have your principles as long as you’ve a belly full / lover’s desire / what remains? / when you were mine the world seemed to burn / apocryphal vows delivered upon hands and knees / beware the music of the dead, for it shall lead you likewise into death.

[bitterbride]

WHAT ARE YOUR MUSE’S AESTHETICS?

BOLD ANY WHICH APPLY TO YOUR MUSE. ITALICIZE WHAT THEY LIKE OR CAN BE TAKEN TWO WAYS. REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST.

TAGGING: anyone who hasn’t done this TAGGED BY: no one. taken from @yourneighbourjerry 

SHORT VERSION  

fire. ice. water. air. earth. claws. fangs. wings. gold. diamonds. grass. leaves. trees. roses. metal. iron. rust. rain. snow. lace. silk. cotton. sun. moon. stars. blood. dirt. mud. silver. steel. sugar. salt. lavender. pomegranate. foxglove. glass. wood. paper. wool. fur. smoke. ash. ocean. bruises. scars. wind. spices. light. dark. paint. charcoal. wine. hard liquor. sweat. dust. bare feet. canine. feline. coffee. tea. candles. sword. dagger. staff. arrow. hammer. shield. gun. spikes. sand. rocks. roots. feathers. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. herbs. waves. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. clay. stone. brick. lions. wolves. foxes. ravens. crows. mountains.

LONG VERSION 

“ YOU RISE, I FALL, I STAND, YOU CRAWL, YOU TWIST, I TURN. ” / the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ YOU’LL GET IT DONE BEFORE THE DAY IS UP. ” / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / “ HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME ? ” / the sharp sting of guilt / YOU FEEL SOMETHING EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE PAID TO DO THE OPPOSITE / the family you never had. /  falling backwards through time.  / quicksand. / DROWNING, BUT YOU DON’T SAVE YOURSELF. /  “ you’re getting better. ”  / “ they smile like a snake. ” / you’re the stars and the sky. /THERE’S A PART OF YOU THAT COULDN’T STAY AWAY EVEN IF YOU WERE FORCED TO. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “ lets take off somewhere. lets fly. ” /  you edge a bit too close to the sun.  / ANOTHER GHOST TO TAKE YOUR PLACE AFTER EVERY STUMBLE. /  deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. /  THE PRECIPICE YOU CALL HOME HAS A TIP YOU’LL REACH EVENTUALLY.   / happiness is the best front a man can make.  /  “ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before. ”   /  you disagree; they’re more beautiful. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. /  rain comes down. / poppy fields / your sanity hanging by a thread. /  “ OH GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? ”  / roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. / your mother had the most beautiful gardens, but you can’t grow anything worth a damn. / the similarities between deep space and deep water. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / YOU TRIED TO HELP, BUT IT ONLY GOT WORSE. /  NOW THEY’RE DEAD, IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT.  / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / THEY LIE SO PERFECTLY YOU ALMOST FORGET YOURSELF. /  the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre.  / sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side. / you smell like the mountains in the winter. /  crisp red apples piled up on the table.  /  your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper.  /  WHAT A PRETTY ONE, THEY SAY.  /  directionless laughter.  / “ love, I think I’m dying. ” /  A SOFT, HOLLOW SPOT SITS IN YOUR CHEST.  / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. /  the seat of power fits like a glove.  / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / there will always be someone ready to break your neck and relieve you of the weight. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think of you as weak. you are, maybe. /  “ you have no idea what I’ve been through.”  / an empty bird’s nest. / broken pencil tips. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” /  “ they weren’t there when it happened. ”  / quick to anger. /  corruption.  /  THERE’S A RED STRING TYING YOU TOGETHER. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” / “ jump. I dare you. ” / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. /  I am not who I once was.  / “ I was hoping that you’d understand. ” / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. /  you drift, but you know where you’re going.  / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / court hearings. / “ I MISS YOU. ” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. /  a lone wolf separated from its pack.  /  “ they say your name is death. ”  /  all-consuming passion.  /  THINK ABOUT THE THINGS YOU DID.  / feed off the daylight. / NO SIGNS OF LIFE. /  “ what are you waiting for? ”  / pure wilderness. / if you’re hungry enough, anyone can stop caring about something long enough to eat it. / spine like a ladder, and his weary feet can’t find purchase. / THE BURN WAS SO SLOW, NO ONE EVER SAW IT COMING.  /  learn through teaching.  / “ have you ever thought about why trees bleed? ” /  an animal’s maw dripping red with blood/  “ go down with me, fall with me. ” / black on black on black on black on bl — /   the long game.  /  restless hands.  / you will do anything to keep them / A CEMETERY BY THE MOONLIGHT, UNBLESSED. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / “ mad men know nothing, but you should have seen me ” / “ my blood ran cold. ” /  power corrupts.  /  wood grain and nail tracks.  /  NO SCALES ARE STRONG ENOUGH TO JUDGE YOU.  /  “ your eyes make me want to do terrible things. “  /  gaping as the river swallows her whole / rose brambles claiming your home /  power is power  /  I AM THE NIGHT. / lust and loss call used feet that rhythmically hit the pavement. / dark hair and a glance thrown over a shoulder / they call you an angel and a devil in the same breath. /  YOU HAVE CEASED TO BE YOURSELF; ONLY WHAT THEY WANT YOU TO BE REMAINS  / flowers bloom until they rot and fall apart / brother; what’s my name? / whatcha gonna do when the chips are down? / wouldn’t you have done the same? / you can have your principles as long as you’ve a belly full / LOVER’S DESIRE /  what remains?  / apocryphal vows delivered upon hands and knees / BEWARE THE MUSIC OF THE DEAD, FOR IT SHALL LEAD YOU LIKEWISE UNTO DEATH

[titansoforigins-blog]

// OOC //

@thearcanagame is the cutest, most stylish mobile game I’ve had the pleasure of playing in a long time. So, in honor of that, I’ve put my character’s choices into novel-format, a trending theme among all things I love. I do not claim to hold ownership over The Arcana, just the representation here of my PC (and even that I did not draw myself). 

______________________________________________________________________________________________

Aerys Karasu

♎ Libra ♎

Favorite Food: Bihari kebab

Favorite Drink: Caramel Apple Ale

Favorite Flower: Red Daylily

______________________________________________________________________________________________

I- The Magician

‘I am a student of the magical arts. My Master is Asra, the fortune teller. I know nothing of his past. As for the present…’

“I’ll miss you,” Asra says, not looking in my direction. I can tell he means it, his eyes not meeting mine. It’s the dead of a moonless night. The right time for beginning a journey, according to him. “Here...take this. For you to play around with while I’m gone.” A gift? This can’t be good. “My Tarot deck.”

“You think I’m ready, Master?” I ask, taking the cards carefully from his outstretched hands. “You’re still calling me that…” He murmurs, the faintest quirk of a smile on his lips. He seems to blush, ever so slightly. “You know I can’t answer that for you. You’ve made incredible progress, but you still won’t let go of your doubt. Do you think you’re ready?” He asks, finally turning to look me in the eye. With a twinkle of good-intentioned mischief, I smile at him.  “Why don’t we ask the cards?”

“Excellent suggestion,” he replies, smiling back at me. “It’s been a while since we’ve practiced,” Asra mentions, as we go to the reading room in the back of the shop. “Because you’re always gone?” I ask, shaking my head slightly and raising a brow at him, to which he replies “Maybe…” A pause, and he looks into the distance absentmindedly. “Someday you’ll find a real teacher… Well, I’m here now.” He snaps back to attention, looking my direction. “Let's see how powerful you’ve become.”

Asra… He’s always going on about how ‘powerful’ and ‘gifted’ I am… I do not see what he sees, but am flattered anyway. “Oh?” I hear him just as something brushes along my ankle, smooth and cool. “We’re not alone.” He chuckles, as a pale snake climbs up to his shoulders, wrapping loosely around his torso.

The serpent is Faust, Asra’s familiar. She’s pleased to see me, I think. “If we're all here… Let’s begin.”

As he takes his seat across from me at the table, I shuffle the deck. His gaze follows the cards as they slip through my fingers. Closing my eyes, I let my hands be guided to one of the Tarot cards, flipping it with a soft shk of paper against wood. “...The High Priestess,”

“And what is she telling you?” Asra asks, Faust flicking her tongue towards me curiously. He leans close, expectant. “Is she speaking to you now?” He asks, curious and with an air of seriousness about him that he only gets during lessons- or tests, such as this one.

When the cards speak to me, it isn’t in any human tongue. It is more of a feeling, not something you would read in any book you may pick up. When my mind clears, the answer come to me. “You’ve forsaken her.” I speak, face serene as the cards commune to me. “I have?” Asra asks, sounding mildly perturbed and impressed.  “Yes… You’ve pushed her away, and buried her voice. She calls out to you, but you won’t listen. Master, if you don’t listen to her...”

Before I can finish my prediction, a sharp knocking startled all three of us. A customer? “Did you forget to put out the lantern again?” Asra teases, shaking his head as if to shake water from him. “Just as well, I can’t stay any longer.” He rises, and we return to the main shop room, Asra looking troubled when he next speaks. “Well then… take care of yourself…” He says, his expression telling me he has something to say, but won’t. “Until we meet again.” He says by way of farewell, parting the curtains soundlessly as he slips out the back door.

And just like that, he’s gone again…

______________________________________________________________________________________________

II- The High Priestess

The knocking continues, leaving me confused. Really, though, a customer? At this hour? The knocking picks up speed, and I sigh tiredly. An impatient one, by the sound of it. I walk over to the door, and press my face to the peephole to peer out into the dark. A mysterious figure is standing in the glow of the lantern outside- so I did forget to put it out.  Their graceful hands are twisting together anxiously as they wait. Even in the dim light, I spy jewels glittering along their fingers. I open the door, curious as to who this person is.

“Forgive me for the hour, but…” The figure steps inside and unwinds the shawl from their neck. “I will not suffer another sleepless night. Please, you must read the cards for me.” As the elegant cloth slips away, it reveals the visitor’s face. At the sight of her, my heart leaps into my throat and chokes a reply from escaping. “It has to be you,” she says looking down her nose at me with regal red eyes.

The Countess! Nadia! “You’ve come to the wrong place!” I manage to blurt out, a  cold creeping into my gut as I take a step back. “Spare your breath, magician,” she says with a small sneer, shaking her head at me. “This is the place. I know it, I’ve seen it before. These walls, these wares...and you.” A pause, and a small smile breaks across her face as she turns to face me fully. “Though you were no liar in my dream,”

“D-Dream?” I stammered, taken aback by her amused tone. “Yes. An unwelcome ability I have come to possess. My dreams are haunted by visions of a future waiting to unfold. But the future I saw, the one that brought me to you...Is one I will not allow to pass.” While she speaks, her face sours as if tasting something terrible, like rotten lemon. “Tell me, magician. Will you hear my proposal?” She asks, a flash of what I can only see as nervousness shooting across her face before it is gone again, replaced by her regal stare.

“M-Magician?” It seems all I can get out is one, stuttered word before fear catches my throat again. This has to be some sort of trap, The Countess does not think highly of fortune-tellers… “You insist on playing dumb?” She asks, closing her eyes and sighing wearily. “Fine. I am no stranger to the rumors about me. That I am a tyrant. That I loath your type. But know this…. I mean you no harm. If you accept my proposal, you will be rewarded handsomely. If you reject… I suppose I’ll find a real magician.” She finishes, looking to me pointedly… Fumbling for words, I can only bring forth more stuttering. “P-proposal?”

“Not very talkative, are you? Nervous, perhaps?” She may have been projecting, but nonetheless I was nervous as she was. “You needn’t be. I require very little of you.” She continues, looking amused yet again. “Be my guest at the palace for a short while. You will be afforded every luxury, of course. I ask only you bring your skill...and the arcana.”

‘The Arcana… where have I heard that before?’ I wonder to myself, before smiling at the taller woman and bowing slightly. “I am at your service, Countess.” I manage to reply, hopefully sound more put together than I felt inside. “You have chosen wisely, magician,” she says, smiling in return. “I will alert the guard to expect you tomorrow. But before that…” She glances away, shyly.

“I want to see these talents of your for myself.” Nadia says, turning to look at me once more, regal expression back in place. “Shall we do a reading?” She asks, and under her imperious gaze, I usher her to the humble backroom. The Countess seats herself across from me. Her gaze darts around the small space before falling on the cards on the table between us. “Go on,” Nadia orders, nodding to them before relaxing.

As I shuffle the deck, she folds her hands before her and closes her eyes. Closing my eyes as well, I let the arcana guide me to the card for Nadia, flipping it over silently and reopening my eyes, listening for their words. “The Magician…” I murmur, looking up to meet her now-revealed gaze. “How very appropriate,” she chuckles softly, looking curious. Nadia peers down at the card, studying its face. “And what does he hold for me?” She asks, not taking her eyes from the fox-figure.

My mind is clear. The answer comes to me as easily as ever, and I speak, “You have a plan,” “Go on…” Nadia murmurs, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “One that is long in the making. Years upon years. Now, you seek to set it in motion.” With wide eyes, Nadia asks, “And? Should I move?” Her eyes pierce me, flashing brilliantly in the lamplight.

“Yes. Act now. Everything has fallen into place.”

“Say no more,” Abruptly, she stands, giving the cards- her card in particular- one last glance. I’m barely on my feet when she throws back the curtains, striding purposefully back into the shop proper. “Your fortunes are simple. Much the same as the others I’ve heard,” she says, closing her eyes briefly. “And yet… you are the first to pique my interest.” She confesses, looking towards the door. By the time I’ve emerged, the Countess is at the doorway, winding the shawl around her face. “Ahem,” she coughs gently into her hand, looking to me pointedly.

I nearly trip over my feet in my haste to open the door. The Countess merely looks amused. “Until tomorrow, then. Pleasant dreams.” She says, chuckling softly. With that, she glides past me and out into the night. For a moment, I’m frozen, staring after her figure long after it has vanished into the mist. The wind does nothing to clear the fog, but the rustling of curtains behind me draws my attention back inside. What could the Countess want with me, a mere apprentice?

All that talk of me ‘reputation’... I walk back into the shop- sure to put out the lantern this time- and wonder… Could it be that she mistook me for…

“Strange hours for a shop to keep,” a deep voice intones from somewhere in the darkened room, causing me to whirl around and look for its source. Who said that? My gaze darts around the shop, chasing the shadows in the dark. “. . .Behind you,” the voice rumbles, surely enough behind me. When I turn, I see a figure looming against the door to the back entrance. “Now, sources say this is the witch’s lair.” The figure growls, straightening now that they are seen.

“So who might you be?” They ask, cocking their head and reminding me of a bird of prey- their mask unsettling. My heart starts racing as the masked intruder advances. As soon as the intruder takes a pause, I swing for their head. “Ah ha! You’ve got guts,” the remark, jumping back. “En garde, then. Let’s see what else you’ve got,” The figure takes up a fighting stance. I launch a magical attack, hurling gale at them. With ease, they evade and begin speaking. “Oh, has he been teaching you his tricks? Unfortunately for you, I’ve seen them all befo-”

I launch a bottle at his head, thrown from the counter behind me and hitting him square on. “Ack!” He hisses, mask knocked loose by the blow. It clatters to the floor, revealing his face. My racing heart stops when he lifts his gaze to mine. “. . .”He says nothing, but smirked grimly as blood pours from his brow. “You do have guts.”

I knew this man once. Everyone did. Back then, they used to call him- “Doctor Jules?” I ask, arms lowering in confusion, taking a step back and leaning against the counter. “Haven’t heard that name in years,” He just chuckles, shaking his head. “Quickly now, where is the witch?” He asks, narrowing his eyes to me. “I’ll never talk!” I growl, eyes darting around to look for a weapon. The doctor wipes at his bloodied brow, mood darkening. “Well, no sense in wasting the visit. You’re a fortune teller, aren’t you? Tell my fortune, and I’ll leave you in peace.” He offers, smiling slightly in my direction.

Huh…? “That is what that room in the back is for, isn’t it?” He asks, glancing in it’s direction. I give a hesitant nod, unsure of the motives for his odd request. “After you, then,” He says, following me inside. I back into the room, afraid to turn my back on the good doctor, eyes tracking him carefully. Looking  amused by my display, the doctor drops himself into the reading chair, looming fearsomely over the table.

“You know, I used to love places like this.” He confesses, as if trying to lighten the mood. I nod slightly, and take my seat as cold eyes track my every move. “Go on. No need to be shy.” Julian says, flashing a grin my way. I nod again, gulping and shuffling the cards, careful and quick. Once my hand is drawn to a card, I reveal it with a flair. As soon as the card is flipped, my mind starts racing. Nothing comes to me but the pounding blood in my ears. “...Death.”

“Death?” Julian echoes, looking shocked. “Death?” He repeats with a back of uncontrollable laughter, sharp as ice. “You’ve got to be joking.” I jolt as his hands strike the table, and he rises to his feet. “Death cast her gaze on this wretch and turned away. She has no interest in an abomination like me.” He snaps, rushing out to the front room. Overcome with confusion, I follow the doctor’s heels. “You’ve been hospitable, so I’ll let you in on a secret.” He begins, looking over his shoulder to me as he reaches for his mask. “Your witch friend will be back for you. He’s taught you his tricks. You may even say that he cares for you,” at this, Julian grins and straightens up, sending a shiver down my spine.

“But when he returns…” His smile fades, and he stares into the glassy red eyes of his mask. “Seek me out. For your own sake.” He speaks, softer than before. “That creature is far more dangerous than you know… Well then- the hour is late, and I’m out of time.” he pauses again, and gives me a long, hard look before fixing his mask in place. It sends more shivers down my spine, and a hot flush to rise to my face.

“Don’t let him fool you, shopkeep.” He warns, slamming the door shut behind him as he disappears into the early morning fog.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

III- The Empress {Day}

My name is Aerys. I am a student of the magical arts… and today I will journey to the Palace to meet the Countess. I spend the early hours preparing my things by lamplight, casting wild shadows on the walls. Seeking a moment's rest, I go to the back room to lie down… and slip away, lost in a dream.

The sky is no more than a slim, green line along the endless horizon. Beside me is Asra, on the back of a strange beast. “Master, where are we?” I ask, looking up to him curiously. Dark clouds bear down all around the landscape, a shifting sea of rust-colored sand. Ahead is a road of perfect, black stone. “I dare not tell you.” Asra replies, drawing my attention back to him. “If I did, you’d have to promise me to never seek this path. Not even I am such a hypocrite as that, Aerys.”

I’m sure I’ve never walked this road, and yet… the sight of it feels like an old nightmare. I strain to see where it leads, but the path keeps changing. “Soon there will be a crossroads,” Asra says, still atop the strange beast. “Crossroads? Where do they lead?” I ask, eyes returning to his figure.

“Depends on which one you take. Now… rest.” He commands reaching down and covering my eyes.

My sleep is dreamless, then.

When I wake, early dawn light is filtering through the dusty windows. I throw a travelling cloak over my clothes and hurry outside, dragging the heavy door shut behind me. After last night’s intrusion… I turn the first lock, and then the second and third. Almost satisfied, I press my right hand to the door and whisper a cross-me-not spell. The wood lights up beneath my palm, in the pattern of Asra’s intricate designs. White whorls glow deep within the door, slowly fading into the grain. The shop we be well. All will be well.

I pull my shawl tighter, and step out into the foggy street. The morning mist is thick, yet to be scattered by the heat of the day. It blankets the street in an ethereal, milky glow. I take a moment to appreciate the tranquil scene, when all at once the hair on the nape of my neck rises in alarm. Someone is near. Someone is… right beside me. I turn towards the eerie sensation, and notice a dark shape looming in the alley. At first, I don’t realize I’m looking at a human. The form is certainly human, though monstrous in size.

Their flesh is cored with scars, clean and jagged, shallow and deep. Shrouded in a pall of weatherbeaten furs, it’s hard to make out a face. But they are definitely watching me. No… waiting for me to come out? They stand between me and the path I have to take. I am struck by indecision, and cast my glance to the stones below me, thinking.

It would be better… not to speak to the strange, hulking man in the alley. Instead, I take a step forward, keeping a cautious ear for the figure. When I look up to see them, I see stormy green eyes following my movements as I enter the alley. My steps are careful, but the stranger makes no move. And then… A voice like distant thunder rumbles from beneath their robes.

“You are in grave danger.” They warn, watching me. I pause, inhaling sharply. The earthy scent of myrrh washes over me, and I hold still. “He will return uninvited. He will offer you a gift, when you need it most. Turn it away, or you will fall into his hand… Just like the rest of us.”  

I blink, trying to process what I just heard. There is shuffling behind me, and the dragging of rough cloth and chains. And them, silence… I have to go. Now.

Exhaling deeply, I continue toward the narrow, mossy steps that will lead me to the marketplace. Wood groans beneath my feet as I step carefully onto the walkway. Daylight seeps through the gaps between the worn planks, shimmering on the water that flows below. It’s early yet, and the marketplace is already wide awake. All around me are the sounds of bartering, laughter, vendors hawking their wares. A voice I know well calls out to me over a sea of noise.

“Aerys! Have you eaten?” Baker asks, smiling at me widely. “I’ve got that pumpkin loaf you like in the oven. Won’t be long now,” he offers, beckoning me over. “Come, sit down, talk for a while!” I sniff the air on impulse and my stomach twists in hunger. Then again… I should probably be careful of the time. I decline the invitation with a wave of my hand. Baker nods, ducking back inside the sweet-smelling booth.

Up ahead, the crowd is thicker with the morning rush of peasant workers. I weave around, focused on finding a clear path… until I hear a sharp cry from above me. A raven, perched overhead, meets my gaze. Awestruck, I smile to myself at the bird. At once, it has my attention. Its fathomless eyes look beyond me, over my shoulder. I cast a subtle glance backward.. And my heart stutters in shock. The Doctor is moving casually through the throng. He wears no mask. Though I’m close enough to be sure of his identity, the crowd between us is dense. He has yet to spot me… He cannot hurt me in such a heavy crowd.

Without a second thought, I go after him. It’s not easy. Traffic is moving against me, and I don’t want to make an obvious disturbance. But he looks unguarded, surveying the market with leisure interest. What is he doing, unmasked in broad daylight? Does he want to get caught? It’s been years, but not long enough for people to forget his face. Just then, the raven gives a cry, drawing the Doctor’s gaze in my direction.

Our eyes lock. I freeze in my tracks, pulse quickening. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain from below as a wooden wheel rolls over my toes. A cart strung with boughs of garlic intercepts my path, and blocks my view as I curse softly, pulling my sore foot away. When it has pass, I seek out his face, or the shape of his coat. But the Doctor is gone. Frowning, I stop in my tracks, letting the herd of patrons weave around me. ‘What am I doing? Why am I chasing him, putting myself in danger? And if I caught him… what then?’

I was just acting on impulse. What’s more, I don’t have time to spare. Shaking my head, I turn back to join the flow of traffic. Up ahead is a narrow stairwell, where the masses and their animals are tightly packed. As I climb the well-worn steps, something catches my eye. A fortune teller’s booth, tucked away in a shady corner. Silver moons adorn the tapestries draped over the entrance, shrouding it in secrecy. The sight teases a smile out of me… How nostalgic. When we met, Asra was operating out of a place just like it.

As I’m lost in my musings, a patron emerges from the booth, caught up in conversation. I give a wide berth and keep my head down. “Before I forget, what are my lucky numbers today?” She asks, looking over her shoulder. “Three, six, seven, nine. Got it. Three-six-seven-nine, three-six-seven-ni--”

I don’t notice them backing into me until we crash into each other. “Ack!” The impact makes me stumble, teetering on the edge of a step. It also upsets the basket balanced on the stranger’s hip.

. . .Which sends a dozen pomegranates rolling down the stairs. “Oh, perfect! As if I wasn’t already late…” They grip, crouching down to pick up the fruits. I drop to a crouch beside the stranger to help. These are luxurious fruits. It’s unusual to buy them in bulk. I spot one as it’s about to be stomped under a stray hoof, and swipe it at the last second. When I hand it back to the stranger, their eyes sparkle with delight.

“Ooh, thank you! How sweet of you to help! And after I bumped into you in the first place.” She says, winking playfully at me. I smile, and together we hunt the rest of the pomegranates down, maneuvering through the steadily increasing foot traffic. Though we’re nearly tramped trying, we manage to recover every last one. “Well, I can’t thank you enough!” The woman says once we’ve finished, smiling at me happily.

They rises to their feet, and offers me their hand. Her grip is strong, and the skin of their palm is rough against mine, calloused. “Probably shouldn’t do this, but…” They begin, rubbing one off on their sleeve, and offer me a fruit from the basket. When I accept it, the stranger gives me a smile that warms my chest. “Take care, all right?” They say with a cheeky wink, departing and slipping into the crowd.

“That was Portia, you know.” A rattling cough draws my attention. The fortune teller has moved to stand at the entrance of the booth, and is eyeing me with avid interest. “She’s the Countess’s favorite. Favorite servant, that is. As for you…” He pauses, eyeing me up and down. “You look like a wanderer, yes? Wouldn’t you like to hear what fortune the fates have spun for you?”

“All right,” I chuckle, placing the fruit in my back, far away from anything important. The fortune teller claps their wizened hands and leads me into the small booth. Inside, the air is thick with amber and patchouli. “What is your name, wanderer?” The teller asks, taking a seat at a small table, a glass seeing ball between us. “Aerys Karasu,” I reply, smiling slightly and taking in the sights.

“Aerys… Aerys, of course…” They hum as their fingers dance of the surface of the crystal ball, nestled in a bed of sand. “...wait, Aerys?” They stop, and look over to me, squinting. The humming stops, and color drains from their face. Wide, watery eyes meet mine. “Asra’s Aerys?” they ask, voice cracking. Ears warm, I sink into my cloak. “It’s...it’s an honor to meet you! Yes, it’s a great… great honor…” They begin, clasping their hands together and bowing their head, shaking their hands slightly at me in way of deference.

“Um, yes, your fortune… uh…” They nearly press their nose to the crystal, going crosseyed. A nervous grin spreads across their painted lips. “I see… marvelous wealth in your near future! Riches, showered upon you! Soon, you will be lounging in the lap of luxury!” They crow, and tap their fingers across the crystal surface rapidly.

They pull back with a sudden gasp, “And… love! Love is definitely on your horizon! I see it, rising like the sun for you! A red-hot rising star of passion!” I nod quickly, dropping a coin on the table and rising from my chair as subtly as I can. The fortune teller is babbling about blazing desire as I back out of the booth. “Ah, thank you! Please, do come again! May the fates smile sweetly upon you!” They cry, clasping their hands again. I exit the booth, squinting into the sunlight.

As the sun journeys across the sky, I climb stair after stair after seemingly  infinite stair. The higher I ascend, the fewer travelers I encounter along the way. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I can barely walk. Thankfully, it’s near dark. I wipe the pouring sweat from my sunbeaten brow and look ahead. Before me is a towering gate of twisted iron. Beyond that, I see the Palace closer than ever before.

The sight of it makes it hard to catch my breath. It is much more enchanting up close than it is from the city below. “Who goes there?” I hear a man speak, and turn my weary gaze towards its source. A guard stands on either side of the gate, I notice. They were so still, I had mistaken them for designs in the metal. “My name is Aerys Karasu. I have come at the request if the Countess,” I manage to get out, dabbing sweat off my brow.

“Aerys Karasu?” The guard to the left repeats, sharing a look with the guard on the right. “We have no knowledge of you.” His partner says, shaking his head slightly. “Unless you know the code, you must leave at once.” He finishes, the pair of them staring me down coldly.

“Code?” I echo, heart dropping down into my empty stomach. One guard golds their hands over the hilt of a planted sword. “Yes. A series of four numbers,” The right says, continued by the left. “If you do not know them, leave. We are not above violence.” A pause, and the right guard growls. “Or torture.”

“Anything for the Countess,” his partner confirms. I do not know the code.  Voicing this, the right guard speaks. “Regrettable.”  His partner speaks up, glancing at the other. “If you leave now, we will spare you without consequence.”

“If you persist, we will slice you without remorse.” The other adds, and I feel he sincerely enjoys his job.

Frowning, I take a step forward and open my mouth. “The Countess--”

Both guards lay their hands on the swords at their waists. I turn without hesitation, ready to run- only to stop in my tracks.

“What’s going on here?” The stranger from earlier- Portia- speaks up from the top of the stairs, gleaming with sweat, hair melted to her shoulders. Against her hip is the pomegranate basket, once again full. “You!” Her eyes gleam with recognition. “Do you know this miscreant, Portia?” The guard on the right grumbles, causing Portia to sigh with irritation.

“This ‘miscreant’ is the Countess’ guest this evening,” She says, looking up and glaring at the guards. “So you might want to watch your tone.” The guards shuffle in their armor, and Portia turns to me with a sweet smile. “Please, let me sooth this insult and accompany you across the bridge. We’ll be arriving right on time.” The guards step back, each swinging open one of the massive doors. “After you,” Portia says with a wink.

I nod, keeping my composure even as a thrill goes down my spine. I walk past the guards, and Portia follows at my shoulder onto a long, steep bridge. The Palace is right before me. I hear the gate slam shut- sending another thrill down my spine- and I know there is no turning back now.

______________________________________________________________________________________________

III- The Empress {Night}

As the sun drops down below the horizon, the palace is illuminated with gold. The geometry of the structure is perfect. Its towers seem to stretch to the stars. Beyond them, I spy treetops swaying in the balmy evening breeze. Drinking in the sight, my gaze trails down the alabaster bridge to the swirling waters below. There is… something down there.

Corkscrewing through the muck, it glows like some kind of bloodless ghost. Its body is long and rippling, ribbon like in appearance. “Something catch your eye?” Portia asks, stopping and turning to face me with a curious look. I pause and think of how lucky it was she arrived when she did, and now that she is escorting me to the palace. Without her, I would either be dead at the hands of the guards, or facing this beautiful, imposing scene alone.

She leans over me, and her eyes light up when she spots the creature in the water below. “Ah. Do you like animals?” She asks, breaking me from my mild revery. “I love animals,” I reply with a coy smile, looking back down to the water. “Oh, you do? How nice! You’ll definitely enjoy your stay here. The palace is home to all kinds of exotic pets,” Portia says with a smile. She pauses, and points to the strange and exotic animal in the water. “But you don’t want to get too friendly with that one,” she warns.

“It’s a vampire eel. Imported from faraway swamps. No eyes or ears, but they’re still pretty graceful, don’t you think?” She asks, stepping away from the edge. “Unless you splash around a lot, they won’t even bother you. But you won’t want to catch a bite, ‘cause if they bite they won’t stop drinking until the body is dry.”

I nod, peering down at the creature as it spirals into the billowing silt. Portia pats my shoulder, ushering me along. She occupies me with conversation all the way down the bridge, which I am grateful for. As we finally approach the intricate doors, I find myself growing nervous. Uncertainties start to rise like bubbles coming to a boil within me. Is this wise? What awaits me, in this fortress so far from home?

If I walk through those doors… Will I ever walk out again?

Too soon we are standing before them, and Portia turns to me with a winsome smile. “We have arrived,” she says, swinging her fist against the copper plating, three skull-rattling strikes. As the last echoes fade, the pendulous doors swing inward. And I am swept inside, wondering if I will ever return.

Inside is a different world. Everything is gleaming. The floors, the walls, and the steep ceilings are all clean cut polished stone. Lining the hall on either side are many servants, standing at attention in brilliant uniform. “Welcome,” one says, followed by another, and another, until all at once the servants are ‘welcoming’ us inside. My eyes flick left and right uneasily as I am welcomed from all angles. When we reach the end of the line, one servant slips away from the rest to join us. Barely four feet tall, a sumptuous blue feather stands proudly from their velvet cap. With a deep bow, they pass me and dash to Portia’s side.

“How are we doing on time?” She asks, eyes darting to follow the shorter servant- the Chamberlain, if I recall correctly. “Impeccable timing! The first course will be served shortly. Her ladyship has yet to descend.” Portia heaves a sigh of relief and hands her fruit basket off to the bright-eyed servant.

“Perfect. Run and tell the kitchen that our guest has arrived,” she says with an easy smile. “Yes, yes, right away!” The Chamberlain replies, darting off with the basket. Each curtsying, the servants slip away and disappear behind panels in the walls, each sliding seamlessly shut. “Well, well, well! It looks like we’ll be arriving right on time,” Portia chirps, smiling wider as she guides me. “Her ladyship will be joining us soon. I’ll show you to the dining room.”

Dining… As in… me, dining with the Countess? “What? Don’t tell me you thought we wouldn’t feed you!” Portia giggles, covering her mouth and shaking her head slightly. She pats me on the shoulder with her free hand in sympathy. “Don’t be shy. You’re the guest of honor!” She says, flashing me a confident grin.

Her words leave my stomach fluttering with everything but hunger, despite being empty. I follow her purposeful stride, our footsteps echoing down the cavernous hall. Soon we are standing before a fine mahogany door, and Portia turns to me. “We’ll go in together, okay?” She says, likely sensing my discomfort.

I feel myself nod, and she opens the door, leading me inside. I step into the dining room. Rich scents fill my lungs, unfamiliar and tantalizing. A quintet dressed in gauzy evening gowns are playing a pleasant, ambling melody. Before me is a long table laid heavy with platters of the most careful delicacy. Portia pulls out a chair for me, and I sink into the plush seat with an inaudible sigh. Now that food is right in front of me, my hunger returns tenfold. But the Countess is yet to arrive.

I tear my hungry gaze away from the table...And notice the strange painting on the wall across from me. The scene is that of a meal shared among a host of figures with the heads of beasts. The table is laden with small animals, provided by a central character with the head of a goat. Rays of gold glitter around its head, and its red eyes are strikingly lifelike.

“I see you are admiring the painting.” Nadia’s voice reaches my eyes, my head whipping around toward the source of the sonorous voice. Countess Nadia is taking her seat, as graceful as I remember from this morning. At the sight of me, her lips curve into a placid smile. “Do you like it, Aerys? The painting.” She asks, gaze flickering to it curiously.

“Yes,” I reply honestly. She drums her elegant fingers along her cheekbone, watching me with idle interest. “Oh? You have peculiar taste. I cannot say I care much for it,” she pauses, and smiles at me slightly. “So why does it remain on the wall, where I must look at it always, you might ask.”

A servant appears at my side to place a bowl of yogurt and cucumber soup before me. I bring it to my mouth immediately and drink. “Sentimental value, I suppose. It was one of my husband’s favorites.” She continues, ignoring me for the moment though speaking to me.

The Countess’ husband. I’m surprised at the mention of him. Count Lucio...As his name takes form in my mind, the goat figure before me becomes somehow familiar. Suddenly, its red eyes are so vivid that I can almost feel them returning my gaze. “Beautiful red…” I murmur, enchanted. The words fall from my mouth unbidden.

“Ah, yes. It is a beautiful red,” Nadia says, looking back towards me. “But more to the point… You have a spoon. I recommend using it.” Sheepishly, I obey. Amusement shimmers in her brilliant eyes. “As I was saying… the goat-headed one in the middle is him. Or so it is supposed to be. Providing for the people, as he saw himself.” She pauses, looking back to the painting. “He certainly knew how to entertain.” She comments softly, closing her eyes.

“Festivities at the palace were exhaustive… and he loved to spoil his guests.” My empty bowl is whisked away, and in its place is a disk of flaky, golden savories. The Countess watches me devour them with morbid curiosity. “Tell me, Aerys… Did you ever attend our Masquerade?” She asks, looking in my direction again.

I blink, mouth full. “I would imagine so. Our doors were open to all… Well, up to a certain capacity.” I chew my pasty slowly, unsure of how to answer. The Masquerade was a festival, held each year in celebration of the Count’s birthday. For the Countess to bring him up yet again is unexpected, but… I realize now that it probably has something to do with the reason she called me here. “I know it is a difficult matter to discuss. I know how fondly the people of this city remember the Masquerade.”

A pause, and she meets my gaze with hard eyes, keeping herself from showing any pain in that moment.

“And, of course, how deeply affected we all were by the murder.” I nearly choke, covering my mouth to keep from losing my food. Mercifully, I catch myself and swallow thickly. My pulse quickens nonetheless. “Such a terrible shock to the guests. Such a vicious injustice upon this house.”

“To slaughter the host while he celebrates his birthday, sharing his joy and prosperity, with open doors? A hateful crime indeed. Ah, thank you.” As our entrees arrive, the Countess falls silent. I turn my attention to the plate before me, a fragrant lamb dish in a complicated sauce.

All I know of the murder of Count Lucio is through rumors and whispers. The story is full of holes, more questions than answers. But the end is always the same. The Count retired to his chambers, and by midnight, he and his chamber both were engulfed in flames. The culprit was captured on the spot. Or surrendered… the details vary. But before he could be brought to justice, the murderer escaped. Ever since that day, the palace has been locked away from all who would seek to enter.

“You may be wondering why I am telling you all this. Why I called you here.” The Countess speaks with gravity. At once, she has all the room at attention. “Well, I have been planning this for some time. This year, we will hold the Masquerade once more. The gates will again open, and the festivities in Lucio’s honor will be more fanatical than ever.” She pauses, and closes her eyes, sighing.

“Fantastical, excuse me.”

She dabs the corner of her mouth. All around the room, palpable shock bears down on the silence. Only Portia appears unbothered by the news. “As I said, I have planned the necessary details already. There is but one end in need of tying.” She turns her gaze to me, speaking with more gravity than I thought possible.

“The murderer. To this day, he roams free. Too long he has evaded me. So long as he stalks the shadows of this city, I cannot guarantee the safety of my guests. I must find him. And I must bring him to justice before the people of this city. Surely you know the murderer of whom I speak…” A pause, and sets her hands gently upon the table.

“Doctor Julian Devorak, my husband’s trusted physician.” There is a terrible crash, and all eyes land on Portia, whose face is stricken with horror. At her feet, the broken remnants of our dessert are seeping into the floor. “Portia?” Nadia looks over, concerned. “F-forgive me, milady… Slippery hands,” the servant excuses, bowing her head to clean up the mess.

“You are forgiven…” Two servants rush to her aid, sweeping away the shattered porcelain with windsprint speed. “Anyway… this is where you come in, Aerys. The fugitive has proved very elusive. The palace guard is helpless in rooting him out. But while they continue to disappoint me...You come highly recommended. Your master is known far and wide. Rumor has it that you have surpassed him already.”

She pauses once more, and shakes her head, eyes going to the painting once more. “I may not be fond of magicians, but I do not deny the practical uses of magic. I myself see the future, whether I like it or not.And this is how I know that you are the one who will find him for me. . .That fraudulent doctor who betrayed us and murdered my husband. This is why I’ve called you here, Aerys. If anyone can help me find him, it is you.”

“And… if we find him?” I ask, finding my voice at last. “The Countess sets down her wine glass, and fixes me with a stare. “When we find him, we will bring him before the people so that all may see his long-awaited punishment. Whether he begs for his life or hands his head in defeat, the people will delight in his suffering. A spectacle of vengeance. The mob will love it. And so, to commence the festivities… the Doctor will die on the gallows.” She finishes, giving me a smile, and sending a shudder down my spine once more.

“Well, if all goes according to plan.” She adds, rising from her chair. On instinct, I rise as well. “Portia,” she calls out, eyes closed. When she hears no reply, she opens them halfway and frowns lightly. “...Portia.” She repeats, more firmly.

“Yes, milady!” Portia responds at last, looking up from the floor. “Show Aerys to the guest quarters. I imagine there is much to ponder before the night is out.” Nadia says, turning to leave. “Right away, milady,” Portia pulls me to my feet, and with a humble bow whisks me to the doorway.

“I m interested to see more of this magic of yours, Aerys. And I look forward to our partnership.”

Autonomously, I bow. The Countess looks pleased. Portia hurries me out the door. She is quiet as she ushers me down the hall toward my room. I don’t mind as much, this time. The Countess’s words left us both with much to think about. After a few turns, we pass a wide staircase, veiled in shadow.

A draft rushes down from the floor above, prickling my skin. It is cold, and smells of ash… I strain to see where the stairs lead, but the darkness at the top is impenetrable. More importantly...Curled up at the bottom step are two, large, lanky dogs. They notice me just as I’ve noticed them.

Fathomless eyes fix upon me, and they rise slowly, without a sound. Though they look as though they could strike at any moment, I sense no ill intent. I hold out my hand, and they approach to sniff it. Their huffing breath tickles my skin. The more they smell, the more their tails start to swing from side to side. There is a gasp from up ahead, and I look to see Portia watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

“Oh my…” She murmurs. “What’s this? You actually got up from your favorite stair?”

She rounds back, observing the dogs in wonder. “Well, this is bizarre. These two never take kindly to strangers,” she explains, nodding at them. “It’s just how they were trained, but… I’ve never seen them act like this.”

Slim snouts brush up against my sides as the does investigate me further. Satisfied, they draw back, looking at me expectantly. On a whim, I reach out to run my hand over the smaller one’s silky coat. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” Portia says.

The dog rears back. From my hand or Portia’s panicked tone, I’m not sure. “Sorry… I know they’re gorgeous and all… But they’re also a little unpredictable. I’d rather you keep that hand. Now, go on you two! Protect your stairs.” The hounds trot dutifully back to their spot. They nearly blend into the marble. “Shall we continue?”

I follow at Portia’s heels until we arrive at our destination. Thankfully, it isn’t much further. She swings open the door with a sweeping gesture. “And here we are! These will be your quarters for now, Aerys. You can put your things where you like, Breakfast is at sunrise… I’ll be sure to wake you. ” My fatigue must be showing. I let my bag fall to the floor gently. “If you find anything lacking, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Portia prepares my bed with remarkable speed. Eyeing the smooth linens, I shudder with exhaustion. “All right, you look about ready to drop. I’ll leave you be. Unless you have any burning questions?” She asks, smirking slightly. Portia leans against the doorway, and bats her eyes expectantly at me.

Gathering some of my strength, I look over and ask- “You dropped something during dinner. Why?” Her expression sours, and her color drains from her cheeks. Her brows knit together painfully, and she bites her lip. For a moment, she’s quiet. “Haha… well… slippery hands, for one thing.” I stare, unblinking. Now I’m curious. “It’s just… we were all so glad to hear the Countess was expecting a guest. And such a lovely guest at that,” She adds with a wink. She sighs when I only stare more persistently. “But to think she asked you to come here for something light this… Finding that doctor who, for all anybody knows, could be dead in a ditch somewhere.”  She blanches, looking irritated.

“I mean, it’s been years since… well, you know. He could be anywhere, right? And it’s not like the guards have had any recent leads. But now you’re here…” Portia stares me dead in the eyes. “The Countess is hopeful, for the first time I can remember. If anyone can help her, it’s you.” Her silhouette lingers in the doorway a moment too long. “Sleep well, Aerys.” Her soft voice trails off, and I hear the door slide shut.

At once, I burrow into the luxurious sheets. It feels as though I’m weightless. Heart thumping to the rhythm of Portia’s steady, ever-distant footfalls, I sink into unconsciousness.

‘This… this is… this is torture.’

After the day-long climb to the palace, I finally have a chance to rest. But whenever I settle into the embrace of sleep, I’m tugged back to consciousness. After writhing around for a while, I sit up, frustrated. When I do… I sense the faintest whiff of magic in the air. The direction from which it’s coming… is the door. Quietly, I slide out of bed.

I slip my shoes on and retrieve my bag from the floor. I may need my things. Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle of the door and emerge into the brightly lit hallway. There isn’t a soul in sight- good. I must have wasted a few hours tossing and turning. I shuffle down the hall, trusting my senses to lead me. I make a few turns. Each time, I have no doubt which way to go. That is, until I reach a fork and the trail goes cold. No… that’s not it. The trail is hot- but from both sides.

I choose to go left, and it leads me to the balmy veranda, bathed in moonlight. Below, I see the gardens, shady and lush. From up high, I can see that the middle forms a maze of greenery. At its center, there is a clearing. I know at once where I must go. Silently, I descend to the garden path, shrouded in a warm breeze. Quieting my thoughts, I listen to the night birds and let my intuition guide me through the maze.

As I near the center, the musical sound of falling water grows louder and louder. I reach a fountain. Around it is a wide gazing pool, and overhead is a rich old willow tree. Hanging from the tree… “Faust!”

What on earth is she doing here? And if she’s here… could he be here, too? She flicks her tongue, hovering over the gazing pool. The gleam in her eye says that she wants to show me something. I take a seat on the edge of the pool and lean over to peer into the reflective water below.

The longer I concentrate, on the shapes in the water, the more they change. Colors too faint to see start to deepen, shadows start to twist and form. Before I know it, my reflection is fading away, and in its place… I see Asra. Drawing water to his face and drinking deeply. Each drop that trickles from his hands sends ripples through his images as it strikes the surface. I’m so shocked to see him that I can only gape silently, afraid that my sound will break the spell.

Then he shakes out his hair, and blinks the water from his eyes, and looks straight at me. “Aerys?” Asra looks as surprised as I am. He leans forward, close enough that I can see droplets in his eyelashes. “Can you hear me?” He asks, enunciating carefully.

I nod, barely able to  believe it myself. If this is no spell of his, then how did I…? “Incredible.” He laughs, and I see now that he is sitting cross-legged, probably besides a pond. His mount, the strange beast from before, is lying beside him, resting its weighty head on his knee. “Ah, there’s Faust. Looks like she found you all right. I wasn’t all that sure about leaving her… but after that reading you gave me…I thought I’d trust my intuition. ”

“I’m glad that she’s here,” I confess, looking up at Faust. She is still hanging from the branch, looking very proud of herself. Now that I’m over the shock of finding her, I’m beyond relieved to have her near. In the reflection, Asra looked pretty pleased with himself too. It makes me laugh. “I’m glad that you’re here, too,” I tell him, smiling. His face flushes, and the beast on his knee gives a rumbling snort. “Where is here, exactly? I know that tree… are you at the palace?”

Changing the subject… How typical. I tell him everything that has happened since we parted, the more I speak, the more his eyes glimmer with keen interest. “Unbelievable… the day that I leave was the day you needed me the most. And even then, you didn’t really need me at all. But I’m glad Faust is with you, at least. I would guess that she had something to do with this. If anything happens to either of you, I’ll know. I can live with that.”

The beast on Asra’s knee groans, blinking awake and peering into his face. “Ah… Looks like we’ve rested long enough.” He laments, looking troubled. “We have to go… But… I’m really glad I got to see you,” He confesses, pulling a scarf up to cover his face. He rises, and with one last glance, moves out of my view. The lumbering beast shuffles behind him. My only warning is the roaring wind before the image is enveloped in a storm of rust-colored sand. When it clears, the water is still, and I see myself reflected with Faust by my side.

That place… where was he just now? It looked familiar. That copper sand, and the strange creature beside him. I realize they are the same as my dream. So it was a vision, then. I’d nearly forgotten all about it. The stars must be aligned in some powerful way. But more than that… Master told me once that anyone can perform a magical act.

Magic is what you do to make the outcome you desire become reality. So… was it my desire to see him? Did my magic reach out to him, wherever he is? Or… was it the other way around? Could be both… Mind racing, I rise to my feet. Faust watches me attentively from the tree. I silently beckon her to follow. Getting to my room unnoticed is going to be a challeng. Steeling myself, I turn back towards the palace.

As I go, I listen to the birds’ echoing calls and feel the weight of eyes on by back. Many eyes, from every corner of the garden. This place is teeming with life. “That snake has gotten… much bigger.” ...I need sleep. The rustling of the leaves sound too much like whispers. Hastening my step, I retreat up the stairs and slip back inside.