#Rook was too much of a mess to read through them in detail when he found them and then less than an hour later his fave party member died

[six-improbable-things]

Actual dialogue from today's session:

NPC: I've been meaning to bring this up for a while, but never really got a chance. In the recording we found [BBEG] mentioned a Lord Alistair Lockwood. For your identification papers, you used the name Adrian Lockwood. Is there any relation between the two of you? Rook, obviously lying: No, there's not. If that's all you wanted to ask me... [*points her towards the door*] NPC: So I'm just supposed to believe that you put that name down by random chance? Rook: Is there any reason it couldn't be random chance? NPC: Rook. You look just like the man. Rook: [*sighs*]

(The NPC in question is an elderly, grandmotherly half-orc barbarian with a strong southern drawl, btw. Her name is Regina.)

[serensama]

I think we're getting low on onions again...

Chapter 2

Slight AU- No Dread Wolf/God plot or Spite, and Neve and Rook are old friends.  Read on Ao3

Prompt 24 out of 25: Illario 

Rook stared at Neve, unsure if she was joking or being serious. Even after being friends since they happened to meet each other almost a decade prior through fortuitious happenstance (an intersecting aboard a Tevinter Galley- Neve working with the Shadow Dragons to free some slaves and Rook on board to steal a priceless artefact), she regularly mistook one for the other. It was a Tevinter custom to buy your new friend a fried fish every day for three months? Apparently a joke- that she let rook in on after two and a half months of free fish. The Antaam had taken over Antiva and the country was currently occupied? Shockingly serious. Rook didn’t think they would deviate from their focus on winning the war against Tevinter and conquer another country. 

Neve thought the hats she wore were stylish and suited her? She claimed that was being serious about that, but Rook begged to disagree. 

The two caught up whenever Rook had the time to visit her detective friend, often getting wrangled into one of her cases or strong-armed into helping out the Shadow Dragons because she was too much of a soft touch. Not that she minded too much, if it assisted those in need then she was always ready to help. After all, if she wasn’t given a helping hand when she had nothing, her life would have turned out very differently. 

So when Neve said she needed Rook to go meet with a contact in her stead, she had to double check it wasn’t a joke and it wasn’t another way the woman was trying to wring more free food from her.

“So distrusting Rook-” “Coming from you!” “I’m a detective, I’m meant to be distrusting,” she smirked, handing her a vellum with the details for the contact. “The Shadows are making a deal with the Crows, they help us with some Venatori and we help them with their Antaam. A win-win and then after that... our alliance is over.” 

“So why do you need me to go? It seems you have everything in hand,” Rook queried, handing back the missive after a quick scan. “If I went I’d probably mess something up, blow someone up or both.” 

Neve took it and lightly tapped the Lord of Fortune on her head.

“Spot on, Little Dove! That is exactly what we want.” “You want me to blow something up? Is this some weird ‘Vint joke again, because truly Neve-” “Not at all. I need you to be you, Rook. There’s one crow in particular, Illario of House Dellamorte, a well known lover of the fairer sex. And you, my friend, are very fair. We need you to keep him busy whilst we speak to the Talons coming here,” she explained, sitting back on the edge of her cluttered desk. “Whilst undoubtedly talented, he’s been known to be not as, hmm how can I say this?...competent as other master assassins. And as he’s the grandson of the First Talon and been sent as her one of her envoys-” “You need me to babysit him to keep him occupied so he doesn’t try to get in on the job and mess up the plan,” Rook finished, understanding the plan they had devised for her.  “Exactly!” “So what... I run around and make it hard for him to attend the meeting? Create some sort of dangerous diversion around Dock Town? You want me to beat him unconscious?” she asked, getting more and more uncomfortable the longer Neve didn’t stop her mind from wandering to more insane possibilities. “I’m not actually going to blow anyone up, Neve!” The Tevinter mage laughed at her friend’s propensity to think outlandishly. 

“Oh Maker, of course not Rook! This has actually been organised as a blind date, no killing necessary,” she said with a grin on her face. “Is it too late to put killing someone back on the table?” “Rook, you’re making a much bigger deal about this than it is-” “You. It’s you who I want to kill.” “I figured. Think of it as killing two birds with one stone, we get the Crow out of our way, and you, Little Dove, can go on a date. See what I did there? Killing? Two birds … you’re no fun.” 

“Stop making horrible jokes where my only logical recourse is to plot your death…”

“When was the last time you went out with anyone?” Neve asked veering the conversation back to the topic at hand. The woman had suddenly become very interested about her love life ever since finding her twin flame in Ashur (Rook was never going to call him ‘The Viper’ in private, it was stupid and she refused to.) 

Rook sat there on the floor of Neve’s little apartment and thought back. There was that tryst with the sailor... or that weekend with the twins... 

“...Sex doesn’t count, Rook.”  “How does sex not count?!” she yelped pathetically. As if she had time to have a proper relationship with someone. Even those native to Rivian, who understood how the Lords of Fortune lived and earned their coin, many still found it difficult to maintain anything longer than a few tumbles in the sack. And she didn’t need it. She had her friends, never ending adventure and- “You’re not doing much to disprove my point Rook,” she said, her concern obvious in her eyes. “We both don’t have a lot of... or any family, really. I think of you as a sister and I... if anything were to happen to me, I can’t stand to think of you alone without someone having your back.” 

Rook’s defences came crumbling down. Blasted woman, being sappy and shit. She knew that always got her to do anything she requested, no matter how ridiculous. She really needed to learn how to be more callous, it would make her life so much smoother. Though she was loath to admit it, she missed romance in her life. 

“It should be fun, we’ve been advised that he is the life of the party. Plus as a Crow, so if it works out, I know you’ll always have people looking out for you.” “Or looking for me. You do understand that there are a lot of In-House jobs, right? Plus you’ve not even met the guy! How do you know he’s not a serial killer? You know... outside of his day job?” 

“So, as long as he’s getting paid for the murder, that’s not a problem?” “A girl has to have her limits. Besides, you’re the one setting me up with him, none of this can really bunch up your knickers too much, can it?” Rook quipped, as she rolled her eyes and stood up. “Alright. If I was to help you and meet this guy, what time and where?” “7pm in front of The Cobbled Swan. You won’t be able to miss him. By all reports he is dark, handsome with brooding features. The source says that he has a wonderful smile.” “Sounds just like your type. Why aren’t you going out with him again?” “I don’t think Ashur would appreciate that. Remember, we would like this plan to succeed and not end with a contract on the Shadow Dragons just because my partner couldn’t keep his jealousy in check, Rook.” 

“Okay. Counter offer. Ashur’s really pretty, tell him to go out with the Crow instead of either of us.”

“Rook!”

“Fine! But I’m borrowing your good silk shirt!” 

The things she did for her friends, honestly. 

--- 

Okay... so maybe she owed Neve an apology. Illario was fantastic. Charming, witty and he made her laugh- and it did not hurt that he was beautiful. Tanned, smooth skin and such expressive brown eyes; she had to admit at the very least, Neve knew how to pick them. Rook had come a few minutes before 7pm and was impressed to find the man already there, in his dark Crow attire looking far too dashing to be standing in Dock Town of all places. 

Conversation came easy to them. He spoke of his love for Treviso and how he would love the opportunity to take her around after finding out she had never been before, her ‘job’ not affording her the opportunity to visit his fine city yet. He described the markets and taking her to the opera if she had felt so inclined, and she could not deny that the fluttering in her stomach was not just from her very strong physical attraction to the man. “I have to tell you, I’m quite surprised at how tonight has turned out,” he admitted, taking a sip of the most expensive wine the bar had to offer, “everything apart from this Red, this is exactly what I expected from Tevinter. Bitter and angry, with very little flavour.” “And what do you mean by that?” she asked, leaning forward to steal his glass, sniffing at the richly coloured alcohol. “The wine or the evening?” “Both, in any order- surprise me,” she grinned as she returned his glass to him, but remained in the same position to show him she was definitely interested in what he had to say. That and it gave him a wonderful view of her chest, courtesy of Neve’s shirt which she didn’t button past her waist. Somehow it felt more scandalous than her Rivaini armour ever had, and that was considered glorified underwear to most people. 

He smiled and mirrored her position so their elbows almost touched on the table, both craning forward to the other as if they were about to share a secret. Oh no, he smelled amazing, his deep, lush cologne so wonderful that she reminded herself that he may not appreciate her asking if he minded if she sat on his lap and just spent the rest of the night smelling him. She knew he did not wear it whenever he was on a job. It would be too easy to notice him, easy for a possible witness to pick him from a crowd based on that scent alone, she was just lucky she got to enjoy it on the rare occasion he was able to use it. Like on a date.  “Tevinter is not well known for their wine. Mages, sure, cream of the crop. But Antiva my dear Rook, Antiva is known for our vineyards. It’s like nothing your tongue has experienced,” he smirked as he noted the way one of her brows rose at the unintended double meaning. “And as for the evening... When I had been told by my cousin that I had to attend this meeting, I was not expecting to enjoy myself at all. I thought that it was another task given to him that he thought was beneath him and always fell to me- but I am very pleasantly surprised by the quality of company,” he articulated, his wonderful accent making each word sound like a sonnet. 

Rook crossed her legs, unsure where the wave of primal desire came from. Had it been so long since she’d been touched that a pretty face and a decadent voice was enough to get her to fall into bed with someone? She considered his face once more, his classically handsome lines made him look like a statue or someone straight out of a romantic painting of old. Yes, for this man, that was enough for her to invite him to one of the empty rooms upstairs and distract him all night if that was what Neve and the Shadows needed of her. Three full days and nights even. It was all for the cause, right? Whatever it took. 

Rook pushed herself to the edge of her seat so she could move even closer to him, ignoring the way the rim of the table dug into her stomach. She picked up his glass once more and brazenly took a sip, holding his gaze as she drank. She was thrilled to see his eyes watch every small movement she made, the lick of her lips, her finger tracing her mouth to wipe away any wine and deftly lick up any errant liquid. Even though The Cobbled Swan was not the brightest lit establishment, it was bright enough for Rook to see the way the assassin’s pupils had started to dilate. 

“I have to admit that I was... wary... of tonight, I did not know what to expect. But like you, I have found myself more than satisfied with my companion for the evening,” she sat back, hoping the Crow would give chase. “And I don’t know, I’ve sampled Tevinter and have always enjoyed it. Is it possible that you’re merely overselling Antiva’s experiences? I would hate to be disappointed.” 

“My Lady Rook, I have never had any complaints. In fact, most people have never been able to go back to anything else after having tried an Antivan.” “An Antivan… wine, correct? Or an Antivan himself?” she encouraged, circling her finger on the rim of the glass. He chuckled low and wet his lips before answering her, placing the palm of his hand gently on top of her own to stop fidgeting. “Yes.” 

Rook watched him as he clearly warred with himself to decide his next move, when he paused and turned around, confusion written across his handsome features. He pulled away and Rook found herself missing the feel of his hand on hers. 

“Cousin? Why are you here?” he called out to the new Crow walking towards them. “Thank you for coming here in my stead, I can now take it over from here!,” the man said, flashing them both a smile. He pulled a seat from an empty table and placed it closer to Rook’s side, eliciting an unimpressed tut from her date. “I appreciate your assistance tonight, but the other matter has been wrapped up and I can continue on here and you can go back to the Talons,” he added, not allowing much room for argument. 

“Illario-” Rook blinked. Illario? The cocky bastard who came prancing in was Illario? “Lucanis, we can discuss when we get back, but I must get back to my date.” 

“Lu-Lucanis? I thought... I didn’t realise when you said you were my contact from House Dellamorte I didn’t realise that you weren’t Illario,” she stammered, blindsided by the switch up. 

Lucanis offered her a short bow and an apologetic look, unsure where the comedy of errors had begun. “My sincerest apologies Rook, I had not known you were expecting my cousin Illario’s attendance specifically. I was just advised to meet with Rook and keep her company until I was summoned back by the Talons. I didn’t realise this was meant to be a date between you and my cousin.” “You... you didn’t even... not a worry,” she had started to voice her offence but ignored it. It was her fault for assuming and not confirming his name was actually Illario. He had not lied to her, or at least meant to. “It was lovely to meet you, Lucanis. For whatever it’s worth.” “And you, Rook,” he replied with a deeper bow, making sure to catch his cousin’s gaze upon straightening. She may not have spoken ‘Crow’ or well versed in any other Antivan apart from ‘churro’ or ‘paella’, but she knew exactly what that stare said. We will talk about this later. Rook looked on as her accidental date left, his gait of a man who knew he was both death and sex incarnate. And she was sorry to see him leave. Instead she was left with... Illario. The real one. A man who was surely very handsome and probably very much fun for a quick tumble- but he did not inspire any flutters in her stomach. And she certainly did not want to share a drink from the same glass as him, let alone any of his bodily fluids. 

“So, Rook is it? Tell me about yourself,” he smirked confidently, far too sure in his allure, too brazen even for her. His smile made her skin crawl and if her reproductive organs weren’t already primarily inside her body, they would have found a way to crawl inward at the way he raked his eyes over her. She had half a mind to get up and leave, make it up to the Shadows and the Crows by some other means, but she was already there- may as well make the most out of it, especially on their coin. 

Either way, Neve owed her. She was going to keep the shirt. 

--- 

The moment his cousin stepped through the front door, Lucanis pulled the man through and slammed him against it. He had come in smelling of liquor and perfume, but not the kind that Rook had worn. What had this idiot done? 

It took another couple of seconds for him to see the black eye and the swollen nose. 

“Good evening to you too cousin, did not realise you were waiting up for me,” he sneered, freeing himself of Lucanis’ hands. “What is your problem?” he asked as he pushed past him and further into the foyer of their rented villa. “Is there any dinner left? I’m starving.” 

Lucanis suppressed the urge to throttle his kin and gripped at his dagger instead. Caterina would not be happy to learn he had murdered him due to a moment’s frustration. He followed the man into the kitchens where he had started to forage but could not find anything that caught his fancy. “Hey, can you make me an omelette, like the one you made after our job last week?” “No, make your own damn eggs,” he said, his mouth pulled down into a deep scowl. It was the refusal to make him food that caught Illario’s attention. No matter how tired or angry he was at him, Lucanis was always happy to feed those closest to him. “Where have you been? Why are you hurt?”

Illario misinterpreted Lucanis’ anger for concern due to his condition, they were Crows and family after all. He reacted the same way when they were children when an older trainee had roughed him up. 

“It was that crazy bitch from tonight, that Rook. I had gone there as the Shadow Dragons swore I’d have fun with her but she was the biggest disappointment ever. I say we don’t help them on that basis alone- the Tevinter’s lie and do not deliver on their promises,” he huffed, finding an apple and biting into it, his obnoxious chewing grating on Lucanis’ nerves. 

“Why would you ask me to go and then switch back mid-way- what the hell was going through your head? What if she was the daughter of an important Shadow Dragon? You could have ruined the entire alliance!” 

Illario shrugged and took a few more bites from the fruit before answering him, knowing that his cousin held a soft spot for him and wouldn’t do anything out of line, he was the good one, always stayed within the lines their grandmother had set and never stepped out of bounds. He would always defer to her before taking matters into his own hands. 

“I heard from someone in House De Riva that the woman they organised for me was just some common wench, not even connected to the Shadow Dragons and I was insulted. They think that someone from House Dellamorte was going to be happy with any old consort? So I organised for my own entertainment whilst we remained in Dock Town. Imagine my surprise when passing the bar and seeing you both, and the woman I was meant to meet was actually very easy on the eyes,” he huffed at the last point. “So naturally I cancelled my plans and decided to proceed with the original date. You saw her for yourself, she was gorgeous, but she was also as boring as the lectures on poison handling that Viago always gives.” 

Lucanis could not marry his cousin’s experience with his own. The Rook he had the pleasure to meet was vivacious and exciting, funny and enticing- what could have happened to change her so much? “So... what happened then?” “Huh? After a while I excused myself and pretended to get a message from the Talons and told her I had to leave,” he shrugged, finding the last slices of bread from earlier in the day to eat. “Sure. But what happened with the eye and nose then? You said it was Rook who hit you,” Lucanis pressed, not sold on his cousin’s rendition of the evening.  “Did I say that? I meant the guards at the next bar I visited. The owner did not appreciate that the barmaids were giving me free drinks and ignoring their regular patrons. He decided to rough me up when I was using the facilities and had my hands full,” he cracked up, lewdly gesturing to his crotch. Disgusting, he hated when his cousin was drunk, it almost made him want to inherit First Talon just so he could slap Illario around whenever he acted like such a pig. 

Lucanis gave his cousin a withering look and left him behind to clear his head. It was a rare occurrence for him to meet anyone he connected with and even if the night had soured her opinion of the Crows or House Dellamorte, he would try to repair the damage his stupid cousin had done. He made his way back to the Swan to see if anyone could tell him where she may have gone to, any lead would not be turned down. He was again pleasantly surprised when he saw her still at the same table, this time joined by a woman, a Templar and 

the leader of the Shadow Dragons, the woman casting magic to ice Rook’s hand. Fucking Illario. 

--- 

Fucking, fucking, Illario. 

He listened as Rook told him the story of the disaster date they had. It turned out that there was a woman his cousin could not charm. That fact alone was enough to confirm that if he wasn’t interested in her before, he certainly was now. “So let me get this right. Illario, that idiot, talked about himself all night and then proceeded to get drunk. Somehow along the way the imbecile’s ego thought you were ‘up for a good time’. He then got a little too excited and paid for a room. When you turned him down, he ended the date like the spoiled little shit he is and got a little forward with one of the barmaids, to which you rightly struck him twice, hurting your hand?” Lucanis asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop his migraine from coming on. He glanced up to see her nod, testing out her recently healed appendage. 

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to get a contract on my own cousin and then pay double to the House to let me murder him myself,” he sighed disappointedly. To debase her, himself and their House, he almost wondered if he should leave him to their grandmother to deal with. Idiot probably thought he could get away with acting out because they weren’t in Treviso, like location mattered. 

“It’s not worth it- I’m pretty sure I broke his nose with that hit, I’m good,” she said, doing her best to placate him. “I’m so sorry Rook,” Neve apologised, holding both of Rook’s hands. “We never thought... I can’t believe that we ever thought he may have been a good match for you-” “It’s not your fault the guy’s an asshole Neve,” she replied, brushing it off. “But I can certainly see why you wouldn’t want him executing any of your plans moving forward. Everything go well at the meeting?” “Yes, the Fifth and Seventh Talons agreed on the terms and we will begin our arrangement shortly,” she confirmed, still looking guilty about setting up her friend with such a dud. “I promise the next time I even think of setting you up with someone, I will personally vet them.” Lucanis could not help but smile at the horror on Rook’s face at the thought of another potential date in her horizon. How hopeless had Illario been that the mere mention of one would make her recoil so thoroughly? Though, it was not like he could talk seeing as technically his accidental date with Rook was his first ‘date’ ever, but he had to believe it was better than whatever happened with his fool of a cousin. 

“You really don’t need to do that Neve, I forgot to tell you earlier, but I’ve actually met someone I’m interested in,” the Rivaini said, doing her best to look anywhere but at her friend. “Really?” the detective replied, suspicion dripping from the single word. Rook nodded vigorously, hoping her enthusiasm alone would convince the woman. “Who?” she asked, crossing her arms like a suspicious parent, waiting to catch their child out in a lie. The Crow waited to see how she would answer, interested in the answer himself. Invested in finding out their name, location and schedule, specifically where they would be alone for long periods of time with no one checking in on them. He wanted to know- for a friend. 

“Him,” she answered naturally, pointing at him with a grin. The three Shadow Dragons turned to him and looked at him with varying levels of surprise, doubt and fascination. 

“Him? Lucanis Dellamorte? The Demon of Vyrantium... the mage killer?” Neve spelled out slowly for Rook. “I only know him as Lucanis, but sure to all those things too. Maybe a little less of the mage killing though, if he can help it,” she winked up at him which he felt himself return in spite of himself. “I would prefer to live through our next date, if he’d be open to having one. Maybe he'd be willing to meet me at the Diamond and show me around Treviso when I come to visit in the coming weeks?”

Lucanis did his best not to forget that they had an audience and carefully chose his words and actions to remain appropriate in polite company. Let there be at least one Dellamorte who didn’t embarrass himself in public that night. “For you, Rook? I’d consider it.” “To sweeten the offer, I’d even buy a bottle of your favourite Antivan wine for you,” she said, moving to stand in front of him, the alluring scent of the lavender oil on her skin enough to get him drunk, wine or no. 

“Really? My favourite bottle can go up to 2000 sovereigns.” “I’d even steal a bottle of your favourite Antivan wine for you,” she quickly amended, earning her a laugh from the normally reserved Crow. Neve, Tarquin and Ashur shared the same knowing looks and hastily made their exit- however the two had managed to find each other, they were not going to stand in their way. Not when they could easily see the way the Crow had looked at her when he entered the bar, and definitely not when they could see the almost ravenous glint in Rook’s eye whenever she looked at the assassin. 

Lucanis gently took the hand she had been nursing, the skin bruised but intact. He allowed his thumb to gingerly brush along her knuckles, listening intently to the shift in her breath. He took a leaf out of her playbook and lifted her hand to his lips, holding her wide eyed stare, thoroughly enjoying the pretty way her cheeks flushed. He looked forward to meeting her in Antiva, however he was not quite done seeing her that night. 

“That room my cousin purchased-” he began, instantly regretting his choice of words at the look that crossed her face. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that perhaps we could use it to play Wicked Grace or continue our talk or-” “The room remains mine and unused, Master Crow,” she said, shaking her head at him. “But if it was with you, Lucanis, I’d more than consider it.”  

Chapter 3

[mantizimus]

Ever since reading the Asakura! Reader for the dorm leaders, I was wondering about the headcanon for the vice dorm leaders with a Asakura! Reader, but can you replace Ortho with Floyd with this headcanon please? Ortho is just a baby. That Jamil Jr comment made me laugh so hard that I gave myself a stomach ache. Lol!

Not gonna lie, that was hilarious for me too.

Takeshi Asakura!S/O

Trey Clover

Always have some calming tea ready.

Often forced to keep Ace and Deuce away from you so that you don't harm them.

Helps you find more peaceful ways to resolve conflict.

At the same time, he respects your determination.

Often agrees to do a little sparring with you, in the hope that you will calm down.

Makes associations with your appearance as Kamen Rider and fairy knights.

Trey somehow managed to make friends with your Venosnaker and teach him to deliver you some gifts from him, if he himself is very busy.

Ruggie Bucchi

Several times he thought about using your temper for his own purposes, but abandoned this idea.

Makes sure you don't go too far.

Ruggie is extremely unnerving about your past.

At the same time, he admires your determination and considers it one of your best traits.

The two of you fight often because it gives you a chance to prepare for future battles and keep you on your toes.

Expect a lot of questions about your Kamen Rider appearance.

Managed to make friends with Venosnaker, and now the two of them are messing with others.

Jade Leech

Sometimes he wonders how you managed to get into NCR.

Jade often compares you to his brother.

His way of saying creepy things with an innocent smile makes you laugh.

Admires your determination, which helps you concentrate on a specific task, and believes that in this regard you are better than Floyd.

Unlike his brother, he doesn't show much enthusiasm for fighting with you. However, this does not mean that he refuses to do something like this.

He is not particularly interested in the Kamen Rider form, although he is interested in many details about it, such as the principle of passing through mirrors and the ability to fight underwater.

Like Azul, he has no qualms about using Venosnaker for espionage.

More active in terms of finding out your partner's behavior in the water.

Floyd Leech

Other students often point out the similarities between the two of you.

Despite everything, you two are very easy to deal with each other.

Floyd will definitely call you "Sea Serpent No. 2."

Sometimes he's surprised by your determination, but doesn't complain about it.

He gets into fights with you with genuine enthusiasm.

Expect a lot of questions about Kamen Rider's appearance.

You two often use Venosnaker to scare the rest of the students.

Jamil Viper

Often forced to pull Kalim away from you to avoid consequences.

Really wants to know why Crowley decided to let you study here.

Makes you resolve conflicts in a more civilized manner.

However, this doesn't stop him from admiring how purposeful you are.

Jamil agrees to fight with you solely so that you do not attack others.

Intrigued by your Kamen Rider form.

Venosnaker reminds him a lot of himself, but he doesn't worry about it.

When Kalim once called your monster Jamil Jr., the vice-housewander wanted to sunk through the floor, even if he thought it was funny.

Rook Hunt

He often watches you so that you don't harm anyone.

Tries to teach you to understand beauty.

Most likely, he will call you "Monsieur Snake".

In the early days he felt a mixture of interest and wariness towards you.

Prepare for hundreds of questions about yourself that will not stop even if you make it clear that you are vexed.

He is not particularly enthusiastic about sparring, but he does not refuse either.

Rook often shows interest in your Kamen Rider form.

Fascinated by your Venosnaker and often spends time with him.

Lilia Vanrouge

Despite all his cheerful behavior, he doesn't take his eyes off you.

Sometimes teases you, much to your annoyance.

At the same time, he often gives you surprisingly useful advice.

Is surprisingly friendly to you, in the hopes that it will help you stop attacking others.

Lilia understands that he is unlikely to achieve anything with this, but doesn't lose hope.

Warmly regards sparring with you. Partly because it calms you down, partly because it keeps him in shape.

He's not entirely sure, but could swear that in one of the books he saw knight armor similar to your Kamen Rider form.

He has no definite opinion about Venosnaker.

[bubbledumbbinch]

Some oral headcanons for Riddle, Idia and Epel (if you write smut for him). Both giving and receiving please 🔥🔥

Woohoo!!!! First ask EVER!!!! I hope u enjoy it aaaah, the reader in this scenario has no specific pronouns but fem body parts, since that’s what I’m most comfy writing with rn ;v; i will try to keep getting better the more i write!

A/N: This piece of writing is purely 18+ only. Minors do not interact.

Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

Giving

Riddle has never given oral, but he is fueled by his desire to please you!!

He offers it as some kind of reward for doing so well on an exam he helped you study for

Now, Riddle has certainly passed by the human anatomy images in textbooks and read about each person’s sexual body parts, learning about it in a very educational way. He usually blushed when he looked at the detailed images and quickly turns the pages.

Riddle would have researched different ways on how to please you before actually initiating anything; he wouldn’t want to completely blow it (pun intended) with you.

But learning about things in a book and actually practicing it would be completely different, he’ll come to find out!

He lets you sit on the edge of his bed while he kneels down in front of you, looking up at your face as he pulls your pants and underwear off

Riddle turns almost as red as his hair when he finally sees your leaking cunt, excited that he made you feel this way!

He watches your face intently as he listens to the noises you make, taking your body language into great consideration.

He focuses his energy on your clit and spends time building you up to your release

Riddle moans lightly as you cum, still licking you as you ride out your high

He wipes his mouth as he comes up to kiss you sweetly, teasingly asking you how it was, the smug bastard KNOWS he made you feel so good

Secretly plans on doing it more often because he wants to watch your face twist in pleasure because of him.

“Ah, my rose... did you enjoy that?” The redhead asked smugly, smirking at your form as he raises his head up. “I believe you really did, by the way you made such a mess on me...”

Receiving

Surprise surprise, Riddle ALSO has never received head!

Is a blushing mess when you offer it so casually during a heated makeout session!! But he can’t deny his beautiful rose, can he?

He remains seated on his chair as you knelt down on the floor, undoing his belt and pulling his bottoms down.

He’s extremely embarrassed because, he’s a bit average if not less than the average. Riddle’s worried you would judge him in that department, but when you stroke the precum leaking out of him with your finger he lets go of all of those doubts!

He can’t help but let out a groan and throw his head back when you give his cock a kitten lick from the base to the tip and then engulf him in your mouth.

Riddle tries to be quiet but you can hear his little gasps and you look up to see his eyes glazed in pleasure.

You also can’t help but let your hands explore his body,

He feels like he can’t control himself and grips your hair in his fingers, releasing in your mouth

If you swallow his cum, expect Riddle to freak out the first time, him completely flustered !! But also secretly turned on 😏

“Mmh,! S-so good...” Riddle’s panting as he finished. “E-eh?! You swallowed?! Why?!!” His face is burning by now. “My rose, let’s wash down that flavor with a sweet tart now, hm?”

Idia Shroud x Reader

Giving

It starts out with the two of you by yourselves in his room, sitting on the floor and playing games

Idia notices the way your thighs look thicker when you are sitting in a certain position, reminding him of a certain set of lewd doujinshi images he has masturbated to a few times

You catch Idia staring, fixated at your thighs and quickly catch on

You have to be the one to initiate anything since you know Idia is not the type to!

When you get up to lay down on his bed, Idia actually manages, somehow, to ask you to sit on his face! You’re surprised he would even initiate anything at all!

You’re embarrassed but seeing the way his eyes look so lustful when you lower your hips to meet his mouth, it spurs you on and gives you some confidence!

He lowkey wants you to suffocate him with your thighs..... he won’t tell you that in person though!

Idia hasn’t done this before, but he has watched a lot of hentai scenes of eating out, so he tries to mimic the same actions and is met with your high pitch moans!

When he feels you squeezing his head when you’re close to cumming he uses his hands to keep you in place, not letting you pull away

When he sees and hears you orgasm he swears he could just die a happy man right then and there!!

“A-ah.. this was so much better than my fantasies.... Y/N, you truly are my SSR character...” you heard Idia muttering into your thighs as he lays there, looking even more happy than you were at the moment! You had to wonder, “was this for my enjoyment or his?”

Receiving

Idia would definitely want you to give him head while he is gaming or coding 👀

Personally I see him as really horny but never brave enough to really initiate things verbally

Idia would have a pink flush on his face as he asks if you could suck him off

He makes sure that he was able to tell Ortho to go out and run some errands for the dorm which he knew would take a little while

He would probably be on his gaming chair, with you on your knees in front of him

Idia would bite his shirt or the sleeve of it while feeling you lick at his cock, sighing heavily once you start to pick up your speed

If he is gaming though, he turns off his mic and releases short gasps and sighs of pleasure, trying to prove he is great at what he’s doing by being distracted but still winning

He would definitely tell you when he was close to cumming, planning to pull out. Depending on if you decide to swallow or have him pull out, either scenario would be a win for him.

The idea of having his seed in your mouth or painting your pretty face only serves to turn him on more :)

By the way DEFINITELY don’t tease him by saying you’ll wear kitten ears the next time you blow him, he will be adding them to his online shopping cart within the next .5 seconds

“Oh- Oh Great Seven- That was close..!” Idia groans, accompanied by the sounds of his rapid movement on his controllers. Once he notices you swallow his cum, he instantly turns pink and you swore his hair flashes red for a moment! ��I-..... you didn’t need to... do that..” he turns away from your gaze.

Epel Felmier x Reader

Giving

Epel definitely wants to prove he’s a man who can provide to his partner!!

He would not be forceful, but offer to treat you and take an initiative! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

Epel gives you plush pillows to lay down on his bed and makes sure to have his apple scented candles on to set the mood~

He secretly asked Rook for advice but you don’t need to know that LOL

Epel is definitely the type to be shy internally but tries to cover up that fact by trying to be dominant, but not too over the top. He wants to be respectful of your boundaries

Epel will try to use his fingers as well - using them to tease your nipples or play with your dripping hole~

Rook told him to do that LOL

When you look down you’re met with the lavender haired boy looking up into your eyes with a determined yet lustful gaze, cheeks tinged with pink ❤️

When he finally brings you close to your release, he works his pink tongue more aggressively as he watches you come undone~

What a hardworking farm boy! We love :)

“Well, how was that? Wasn’t that something a real man would do for his woman?” He asked you, a big grin on his face when you nod your head and smile at him.

Receiving

You totally catch Epel off guard when you ask to give him a blowjob!!

He became a blushing mess and was shy, at first.

However, you sorta made him a bit mad and told him his dick was cute, no matter how big it was, describing HOW it was cute in great detail!

Epel tried to conceal his feelings but once he felt you wrap your lips around the tip of his dick, he lost himself.

He grabbed your head a bit roughly, “I’ll show you how cute I can be...” as he fucked your face (with your consent!)

Hey, you know the repercussions of calling him cute, and how much he hates it!

If he notices you don’t like how rough he’s being, he will stop being rough once he notices your body language and if there are tears pricking your eyes he gets pretty worried!

However if you DO like it, Epel will definitely keep going at it, and fuck your face faster once he feels his release coming.

You look up at his face while he released inside your mouth and you see his eyes rolled back and mouth agape. Epel’s releasing moans that are throaty and similar to his “real” voice he hides from everyone.

He’s a blushing, panting mess once you’re through with him!

“Sh-shit!!” Epel grips your hair tightly as he shoves his cock to the back of your throat, simultaneously releasing his seed and showing his dominance. “You... were amazing...” he pants, too tired out to even care about how he sounded at the moment.

[takuyakistall]

I recently re-read his Dorm SSR personal story here! A few questions and thoughts lingered inside my head as I read it and it collectively got worse when @poisonepel​ started questioning things too. Which ultimately led to me writing this down while running on half a brain cell and a spoonful of rice for lunch. This isn’t necessarily an analysis but more of just me questioning a lot of stuff. I already pointed out things that are already obvious so it might get repetitive. Placed under the cut since it’s a bit lengthy! I tried my best to be coherent in the very least.

Rook’s Nickname for Jade - Rook calls Jade “Monsieur Mastermind” and perhaps you’re already telling me right now that I shouldn’t look deeper into this since it doesn’t look like it matters anyway but let me tell you right now that I tend to overanalyze things when it comes to Jade. I find it a bit odd how Rook calls Jade the mastermind, presuming that we’re talking about the Octavinelle trio, when it’s often Azul that’s shown to be as such. Of course, it’s been revealed that Rook analyzes or stalks nearly everything that happens to catch his interest (Jade’s Gym Personal). So it’s safe to presume that his judgement is, if not entirely correct, accurate. “Your staple food, your habits, your walking speed, when you sleep, your heart rate, how many times you blink… those and many others I have recorded perfectly.” Just by reading this line alone I became pretty sure that he observed something deeper than that--which is his personality.

       The question is, why is Jade the mastermind instead of Azul? Why is Azul’s nickname “Roi du Fort” instead of being the mastermind? Well, it might be common knowledge but Jade, in a way, controls Azul despite what it looks like to the public which is Azul controlling Jade since he, as the higher authority, has power over him. I read a popular post explaining why Jade probably undertakes the role of a servant rather than taking the position for himself knowing that he has the full capabilities to do so. This will be explained further later in a different note.

What I’m trying to imply is that behind the scenes, Azul isn’t really the mastermind behind everything despite what it seems. It’s Jade who’s really in control of things, by picking up the act of a servant or butler. 

“If the entire hierarchy collapses just due to the absence of a single person, then that proves that they aren’t all as great as they seem.” - I just had the need to point this particular line out since it just seemed so… Jade. Everything about this line just screams out the same vibes he radiates, cold and severe. I know he’s faking the whole thing about having a falling out with Azul and wanting to join Pomefiore but I think it is true that without him, Octavinelle won’t nearly be as great from when he was still there.

First of all, He’s Octavinelle’s vice-dorm leader. Surely, being in such a high position, he carries a lot of duties that only he can do as the acting vice leader. There’s also the fact that he does it superbly than other people which is why Octavinelle is the way it is right now, it would be hard to replace him. They would have to look for someone who’s on par with Jade, in the very least.

Secondly, he’s somewhat an emotional pillar to Azul. Judging from their childhood and current relationship as of now, I like to think that a big reason why Azul is the way he is right now, is because of Jade and Floyd acting as his emotional support or whatever even though they insist that their relationship is purely just for business and will drop it if it’s no longer beneficiary to them. The main reason why I think that way is because of the Octavinelle CM which has a scene of Azul holding a bubble in between his hands. Inside the bubble were the twins in their eel forms. The next thing that happened--the bubble popped and disappeared, along with the tweels inside it. We could see the horror on Azul’s face when it happened in that scene and slowly led to the overblot scene which says a lot about how Azul views the twins. Have a more detailed explanation regarding their relationship here! Summary, Azul will lose his shit if Jade were to disappear. Now, where is Octavinelle in all of this? Probably a mess in the corner right there with their dorm leader not in his right state of mind. In short, Octavinelle will probably crumble under the absence of Jade. The reason why Octavinelle is still functioning under Azul’s command during this whole stunt Jade is making is precisely because Azul knew that it was all an act.

"Jade’s excellence in everything he does is renowned even among the Dorm Leaders. He might be a super secretary or something to be able to answer Azul's difficult requests." - Vil's words to Rook during their little talk about letting Jade into Pomefiore. This stuck out to me because back then I didn't really give this much thought but now that I'm re-reading this, it makes me wonder how good is Jade at his job as a Vice Dorm Leader? These words coming from Vil hold a certain weight I can't describe, for him to say that his excellence is renowned even among the Dorm Leaders and to be described as a Super Secretary.

For Jade to have earned this kind of reputation despite being in the land for only two years so far is quite a feat! I would've expected less from someone else but this is Jade we're talking about so, ignoring his terrible weakness in flying, I can assume that Jade worked hard for him to have reached this kind of performance level in such a short time. To be recognized by almost all of the Dorm Leaders isn't an easy feat.

Jade as an attendant - During his first day as Vil's attendant, Vil mentioned how off-putting he is from the fact that Jade was almost too good for someone on their first day. "You managed to get on such friendly terms with the stuffy and straight-laced people of the industry in such little time; and you were also perfect when it came to helping out with the shooting. You've worked much harder than I thought you would." His words. I think this is due to the nature of Jade's silver tongue, which is being able to speak in a way that makes other people do or believe what you want them to do or believe. It seems very fitting for a character like Jade.

Because of the recent personals that got released for Jade, namely the Birthday SSR, they talked about family there and it got me thinking quite a bit as to how Jade can speak so eloquently especially now that I've read that he managed to get on the good side of people who are probably way older than he is and straight-laced, no less. He vaguely mentioned their family background when he was telling a story from his childhood and said how different people would come over to their party and offer them presents. I'm assuming that these people are possibly older than he is, judging from the fact that one of them attempted to give the twins liquor despite them being at a young age, and I thought that maybe Jade grew up used to being surrounded by adults to the point where he picks up a lot of speech patterns and habits. Which inevitably leads to what he is right now. Nothing is confirmed yet, this is a mere thought I had.

Jade's past with Azul - It's briefly mentioned here in the story. Jade mentioned how there weren't as many mer-folk as there are humans so they were all basically put in the same class together during elementary school. Azul didn't catch his interest back then, it seems. He mentioned not being able to remember the very reason why the three of them—Jade, Floyd, and Azul—ended up together currently in Night Raven College.

I am genuinely curious as to what actually made the twins interested in someone like Azul. Correct me if I'm wrong but they did mention it in Chapter 3, right? Was it the growing interest when they finally took notice of Azul using his unique magic on basically everyone who fell into his trap? Someone tell me the details if it was ever mentioned, my memory is failing me.

“Tenebres” - The shoe brand Vil wanted to get his hands on but unfortunately did not obtain, particularly, the Mirror Shoe. "Tenebres" apparently only sells their products to people who they deem worthy for designs, even the designer themselves has yet to make a public appearance as they are shrouded in mystery. Vil didn't have enough time to acquire it but, surprise! Jade Leech has somehow managed to get his perfect hands on the pair of red shoes Vil wanted so much. Frankly enough, Vil was impressed he managed to obtain something he could not—alone, no less.

This is just me pondering but this particular line made me wonder, "Heh, they did some at the cost of a bit of trouble. No matter, how about you try these on instead of dwelling on the matter?", to what lengths did he actually have to go through to obtain just a pair of shoes? Or rather, what connections does he have to be able to obtain this so easily and brush it off with a mere, "cost of a bit of trouble" when clearly Vil already expressed the difficulty in obtaining these?

Another note I have to make but not completely sure if it's relevant is his family. As I've said before, they mentioned that they deal with a lot of people due to the nature of their business and that made me wonder if the designer/owner of this certain shoe brand is one of them? Perhaps Jade was able to easily contact them because of connections his family has although Floyd's wish in the event Stars & Wishes contradicts this possibility.

In Floyd's wish, he mentioned wanting a pair of shoes and Idia immediately asked him why he couldn't just buy them. Floyd answered with a simple, "I can't usually get them." Because of the price. Which, again, contradicts my theory about the Leech family being connected to the shoe brand. Although! Vil did mention how the shoe brand only sells it to people they deem worthy. Perhaps, Floyd isn't…? No—it still wouldn't explain how easily Jade got the shoes and had the brand get Vil a job there as an ambassador. Surely, that isn't due to just any normal connections anymore. Definitely shady, I want to know more.

Jade is in control - As I've said earlier, Jade is somewhat in control despite playing the role of a servant. Prime example is when Vil told him his throat was parched, Jade immediately acted upon it fully knowing what his original intentions were. He gave Vil a drink that the Mostro Lounge was apparently serving without having Vil question it further and even went as far as to let Jade take a picture and post it—even he decided the caption for the post! With a simple flow of events just like that, Jade has managed to manipulate Vil without him knowing. He did it all while taking in the role of a servant and that in itself says a lot about how he does things

I think it's worth it to take note of the fact that Jade does not like bringing attention to himself and merely brushes it off as mere shyness of some sorts when really, all he wants to do is lay low and draw as little attention to himself. It makes his job easier that way—perhaps that's the reason why he lets Azul take the spotlight all the damn time.

Another thing to take note of is something I saw from a post in Tumblr which basically sums up the whole reason why Jade is always adopting the butler persona wherever he goes. It's because he likes to be in control that way—you'd let down your guard around him and let him serve you. You want a drink? He'll serve you a drink but-! He is in control over what you will get. That's exactly what happened in this exact scene, Vil waltzed right into the center of Jade's palms.

Vil never noticed - I'm not saying Vil is dumb, because he is most definitely not. Although through the very end, I don't know if it's just because Vil got carried away with the feeling of achievement taking over him due to recent events but he did just brush away the reason why Jade was in Pomefiore in the first place and let him go away peacefully, "So long as he doesn't bare his fangs at us." In other words, Jade managed to outsmart Vil and possibly, Rook.

This is probably one of the reasons why I am confident enough to say that Jade truly is one of the most cunning bitches in the entire game because this whole ordeal just pretty much proved it.

Aftermath - There we go! We got an explanation about how Jade managed to manipulate and use Vil for his own gains err, in this context, probably Azul's. When Jade took a picture of Vil with the drink and posted it, he did it with the intention of taking advantage of Vil's popularity and viewer reach. Jade expressed his thankfulness when he mentioned how Vil saw him as "useful" perhaps his reputation prior helped him reach his goal? 

Azul praised Jade with something along the lines of "As expected of you, Jade. You're the best Night Raven's College has to offer when it comes to sneaking into another's pockets after all." Which really just backs up some of the statements I made earlier about how Jade manipulates people by letting people let their guard down around him while thinking they're the ones who have power over Jade when clearly it's not as simple as it seems. Azul mentioning that only Jade could pull off something like this just puts me off for some reason but I'll leave it be for the time being.

After that, Jade and Azul had a conversation that started with Azul asking him if he had any difficulties during his stay in Pomefiore and if he had any troubles keeping up with Vil. Jade, jokingly(?), responded that it was nothing compared to Azul's demands and orders and his time at Pomefiore was actually a vacation of some sorts for him. Which really makes me wonder what jobs does Azul usually give him if this one was somewhat of a break for Jade? A task that seemed impossible to Floyd, Jade said it was a vacation. It's a bit frightening but I guess that's his charm? Hard-working is one way to put it. 

That's the end of my Dorm SSR mini-analysis, I guess! Thank you for sticking with me till the end even though a lot of these might be repetitive. I'll probably add more depending on future brainrot but for now, this is fine. Feel free to tell me what you think about this!

[siren-virus]

You know what? Just because you’d be able to talk my ears off with LuckyBoy!AU, I’m gonna keep asking you about it with long asks so I can get long answers (I love reading long answers since they give out so much info and speculation, while leaving room for discussion as well). So let's have a chat through asks so neither of us have anxiety(?) while talking to each other in messages.

Who would be some of the regulars when Ben is working at the cooffe shop? (I also love this au XD) Would Cooper, Rook, Gwen, Max and/or anyone else go at the same time as a group and have a casual conversation with the barista? Would Ben accidently gain confidential information about the Plumbers this way? I wonder if he would be famous between the aliens and humans near Undertown as one of the few humans that's actually chill with every alien regardless of appearances thanks to knowing Gwen with the Omnitrix from before?

I feel like Ben purposefully avoiding Cooper as his vigilante persona would start as a measure to avoid his identity being exposed (I belive it was Cooper who exposed him in UAF, right?), but later would develop into a troll play, waiting for him to finally find him and play a prank there.

Would Ben play pranks on Will Harangue for giving him bad publicity to the humans? I mean, it's not like he can just appear in front of a camera and tell his side of the story, he would be captured instantly, or interrupted at the very least; and he having his own social media wouldn't work too well since he isn't a tech genius and the Plumbers could track him down.

Also, what has Gwen done that they think they need Ben to protect them from her? Like yeah, in OV there's a lot of property damage, but they don't believe they need protection from him (at least I don't think so), so she must've done something big in order for that to happen.

And now an ask that isn't directly related to Ben XD Who would be some of the people leading an investigation against the vigilante, trying to discover his identity as well as species? Like I imagine Rook would be more of an addon to said investigation, being on the lookout but not actively investigating everything that Ben has been involved with, and Gwen has a lot on her plate, so let's not let her join said investigation.

Oh oh oh, I just thought about it, if Ben could be considered an Anodite in this AU, what happened when Verdona appeared in that one episode of AF? Did she manage to find Ben in the first place and almost but not quite take him away? Does the rest of the family know he's an Anodite and what are their thoughts about it? If they don't then how would Ben explain some of the magic things that he does and someone witness?

Ohohoh, buttering me up are ya? Well you're in for a brain dump.

Ok, first I gotta say: The alien cafe is separate to the plumbers (the plumbers have their on cafeteria, but like to indulge in other food sometimes, and non-instant coffee.)

So I was thinking, one of Ben's regular coworkers is Alan Albright. Reason for this is because Alan is not allowed to go on missions often. He's too young. I mean I know they definitely have child soldiers in OS- buuuut Max's influence has put a stop to that. He's seen how it affected Gwen. So, Alan is put on easy patrols in low crime area, in the city.

Alan, however wants in on the action, so Max had suggested the cafe. Ben and Alan have a very brotherly bond, and Ben (outside of his vigilante life) has been swaying Alan's opinion on both, the plumbers and his alter ego.

Manny, Alan, Helen and Cooper- When not busying himself with the tech lounge- (sorry, Pierce is still dead in this), will often come by the cafe, they sit in a booth and discuss things. Most occasions Ben is invited to sit with them.

When Gwen pops by their interactions are brief, Ben would try to tease her about anything and everything under the sun. "See Kevin lately?" "Oh, got beat by the walking glow stick again, huh?" "Geez, another jail break? 3rd time this week!"

Normally he gets a fiery reaction and a nasty retort.

Of course Ben would take every opportunity he can to get info. At first it wasn't intentional, he'd just eaves drop on a few conversations that interested him. As time goes by though, he's found that a lot of people, plumber, criminal and just outer space travelers, are more than happy to unload some gossip. Ben is very much delighted by that.

He's not exactly famous, he's well known for being a friendly person, yes. But not all throughout Undertown.

ain't cooper the blond dude with some kinda telekenetic power that ended up turning into an almost Kevin duplicate? (i'll fix that) NGL I forgot he grew up in UAF.

Pretty sure the one that exposed Ben was the nerd who was voiced by the VA of Robin (TeenTitans/Go). Now that you bring it up though, that guy... Jimmy, is someone to be avoided, cause he's a snoopy guy. Who also hangs out at the cafe a lot to get details. Always ends up harassing Ben cause he knows Ben has all the juicy gossip.

And yeah Ben would totally take advantage of it to mess with the poor kid.

Definitely. Ben would mess with Will Harangue as much as possible. Especially when he goes live. Ben won't confront him personally, or do anything that could possibly reveal his indentity. He's got a lot of unique mannerisms that his family could quickly pick up on, there's also his voice, although muffled by the mask, if it's recorded enough- it's another identifier.

So that leaves Ben with his sticker trail. They're very bright, almost blinding, so Ben's stickers are an annoying inconvenience. He could also use a weak spell that causes it's victims to yawn/sneeze. Maybe he'll hang in the background briefly and wave. Just some of things he does to get under Harangue's skin basically.

Gwen:

So, you picked up on what I've hinted at. Good.

Before I go into Gwen, I'll say this: The plumbers are stationed on Earth to protect humanity. That means the aliens who have immigrated are less of a priority. That doesn't mean that they're completely unsafe, the plumbers still patrol Undertown and look after the people- just less so.

Aliens that leave Undertown especially- Normally they're ushered back by a few Plumbers standing guard- those that pose a threat or seem to pose a threat are dealt with by the plumbers. Which isn't too bad, just a slap on the back, a fine, maybe jail time.

Unless you run into Gwen. Who is much more intimidating, much more brutish, she won't exactly hold back. So- she hasn't got the best rep with Undertown. She's still a hero. Known throughout the universe. Just not a kind one.

On several occassions, Ben(vigilante) has had to step in to get her to back down from dealing with criminals.

The plumbers don't have a lot to go on with the investigating. Ben doesn't leave any DNA trails, cause anodites have no DNA. No hair strands, no finger prints, no blood. Even his stickers. They got nothing, nada.

That doesn't mean it's completely hopeless. A clean hit to Ben has on more than one occasion shocked him out of his anodite form, reverting him back to human (which is why he has the glasses and face mask, as a just incase scenario.) Sometimes even spooking/shocking him can make him human again. If his focus is messed with he's human, kinda deal.

So the plumbers are aware of this. They do their best to be as violent and destructive when they see Ben. They're attempts usually fail unless they have someone competent enough with them, Ie; Gwen, Rook.

Villains are also aware of this. So risky buiz am I right?

In regards to Verdona; honestly, I feel like having her know about Ben's existence as an anodite would kinda nerf this whole thing completely. Verdona, I bet, would be a massive gossip. Although her contact with Max is limited, he'd hear about it eventually. Game over. There's also Sunny, who would take advantage of this information and spread it across the universe.

So instead maybe Verdona pays a visit later rather than now.

She'd also be less inclined to take Ben back home, I like how Verdona is indifferent to Ben but loves Gwen, I wanna keep that aspect.

To explain any magic happenings that his family or friends have spotted, he just says he's practicing to be an illusionist. Or he broke a glow stick, or his has glitter in his pocket. (He always has something retaining to magenta hidden up his sleeve.)

Hopefully that got all your questions answered for now!

[lizzy-williams]

𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 (𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐔) 𝟓/?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐀𝐖𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✥ Warnings: SMUT, gore, blood, you know the drill. 

✥ Theme Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D30iJ4d6Aio

Bella’s Lullaby by Twilight Soundtrack (slowed)

((Oop, looks like it’s wake up time 🤭))

masterlist

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 motionless body as you laid there on the bed. Any minute now. At any minute you would wake up, and he could truly be with you. Tell you how much you meant to him, and how much he missed you just for those several hours you were out. 

He watched you closely, laying down on his side right next to you, his head propped up on his elbow, watching your face for any sign of movement. Time ticked by. Colson knew you were going to wake up, but there was still that fear he might lose you. 

Suddenly he caught sight of something. Your finger twitched, and soon your hand, and then your feet. 

And then your eyes opened. They were a beautiful shade of rose, the deep color almost hypnotizing to your lover, his form sitting up as he watched you look around. 

You were of course confused, anyone probably would be, but you were surprisingly calm. And the first thing you focused on was the man next to you. 

“Jesus,” he said, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in, “Fuck, thank god you’re awake.”

You still hadn’t said a word, just taking in everything. You felt Colson’s skin, and you two had the exact same body temp, and looking at your own skin, you almost jumped back. It was beautiful. 

You pulled back, a confused expression dawning on your face. You looked around the room some more, seeing things you hadn’t seen before and sensing things you didn’t think you could. 

You thought about where you were and what you remembered last. Your skin started to crawl. You remembered Rook... and what he had done. Wait. Did Colson really-? Did he-?

You got up and stood in front of the mirror. You were in nothing but a white tank-top and sports shorts. But so much had changed. You looked in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize yourself. 

Your skin was clear, your body slimmed up. You finally saw one remaining detail. Your eyes. And that’s when you knew what Colson had done. He had done what he said he thought he would never to. 

He turned you. 

You were now one in the same. 

You turned to Colson, his eyes shifting over you as he patted his hand on the mattress, giving you a look that read ‘come sit.’

You hesitantly sat down, looking at him as you messed with your hands. You felt like the girl in the stupid rom-coms where she would get a makeover. The girl who would take off her glasses and somehow became breathtakingly beautiful. You had to say, you did look pretty good. 

“Listen, I know that you probably have a lot of questions...,” his icy blue eyes met your garnet ones, “And first, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, baby?” these were the first words you had said. You placed your hand cupping his cheek.

“I wasn’t there.” he simply replied, guilt seeping through his words. His head began to hang lower as his back began to slouch. 

He suddenly leaned into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he cried, pulling you into his lap as you wrapped your legs around his torso. He was relieved you were here but furious at the circumstances. He never meant to put you through the process of becoming immortal. 

His body clung tightly to yours, the fears of him losing you washing away. You two were finally okay. You were free from sickness and the other burdens of life. 

His head hung in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapped around you all the way as your fingers danced in his hair, soothing him. He turned his head and gave you a kiss on your jaw. 

“I thought I lost you,” he muttered, pulling back a little but only to look at you.

As your eyes met, you felt yourself more drawn to him than you ever had been before. You felt your pupils get a tad bit wider. 

“I love you,” he whispered, his hand taking one of yours. 

His eyes searched yours in some sort of response. You felt his hand trail up and down your back, making your lips curl up slightly. You were about to tear up. This was all you ever wanted to hear. 

You finally meant something to him. You always did. 

Your lips slowly met his, the kiss soft and plush as you held each other close, his hands messing with the hem of your shirt, your hands messing with his. He deepened the kiss, only pulling apart to take your shirt and his off, discarding them in some unknown direction. 

He kissed up your now clear neck, a sensation that made his heart flutter and his fingers tingle. The only time he had ever felt your skin so clear was when he had first met you. 

You tilted your head back slightly back as you felt him drag his tongue along your throat, whines escaping your lips as you pull your lower body closer to him. 

Colson was loving every bit of contact, detaching his lips from your neck and his hands messing with your shorts, working on pulling them down along with his. Now you two were completely nude, drinking in the sight of each other’s bodies. 

You two had seen each other nude before, but that was only in moments of lust. But now you were finally looking at each other in a different way than before. Now passionate and heartfelt. 

Every bit of you was complete perfection, and Colson wanted to devour you on the spot. You then resumed your position in his lap, straddling his folded legs as his hands and fingertips danced across your skin.

Your lips met his once more, a groan vibrating through his body, making you whine, unintentionally and subconsciously buck your hips against him, letting out a low whine. 

This only egged Colson on more, your lips still together, his hands going up and playing with your breasts. 

“What do you want, love?” he muttered, his hands harshly grasping at your breasts, the skin on skin contact already enough to make him want to take you in every position.

“You.” You purred, leaning your forehead to make contact with his, your eyes making direct contact, “I want all of you.”

You didn’t have to say another word before he flipped you over, his long body looming over yours, arms on both sides of your head as he leaned down to kiss you again. 

Suddenly you felt a quick ‘pop’ emit from your mouth making Colson pull back. You were confused for a second, wondering if something was wrong. 

Then you realized what it was. It was your fangs. Newly grown in and white as snow. Your tongue grazed over them, stifling a laugh as you did, Colson’s pupils now completely blown.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, leaning down once again and roughly kissing you once again, your hands flying to his hair as he peppered your jaw with kisses, muttering out praise and curses of affection. 

You felt him lining himself up, planning on taking it slow. You wanted this, and you knew that he wanted this too. He gave you a quick look, and you nodded, your doe eyes looking into his. 

He slowly lowered himself into you, little by little as you both gasped as he went farther and farther. Soon, he was all the way inside. 

It felt fucking amazing.

“You feel so good, baby,” he breathed, beginning to move, wanting to savor this. 

You only moaned in response. You finally decided to do something that you never would have dreamed of doing before. You flipped both of you over, Colson still inside of you. You sat proudly on top of him, his fangs popping out in a fit of elation.

He loved seeing you above him, a beautiful creature that he created, sitting beautifully on top of him. You were everything he could ever want and more. 

You started you move on top of him, causing both of you to throw your heads back in a fit of ecstasy. You chased the feeling, your speed progressing more and more, your sounds of pleasure getting louder and louder. 

Soon you were bouncing up and down on his shaft violently, both of you moaning out as you both were fucked out. Colson suddenly grabbed your back, pushing you down as he planted his feet flat on the bed, using it as leverage as he began to pound up inside of you. 

“FUCK!” You cried out, pleasure clouding your vision, your senses consumed by rapture as you felt yourself become close. 

“God, babygirl, this pussy was made for me, fuck.” he groaned out, never faltering in his strides as you held tightly onto him, “Are you gonna cum soon, dove? Are you gonna show me how amazing I can make you feel?” he whispered harshly into your ear.

You whimpered out, nodding your head quickly, the knot in your stomach becoming more and more constricted. It wasn’t long till you were on the edge, and Colson could tell, reading your body language like an open book. 

“Come on, baby, cum for me, I wanna watch you as you cum on my cock,”

His words were the thing that pushed you over the edge, your core tightening around his shaft like a fist, loud mewls, and whines of pleasure. 

Your legs shook as you leaned down onto his body, his own orgasm taking hold making him let out curses and groans of your name along with praise. 

You rolled off of him, now on your back, your eyes wandering over the ceiling as Colson watched you, taking in your body and thinking about everything that just happened. You looked so beautiful right now, the after-glow of rapture making you so much more radiant. He wanted to take a picture so he could look at it forever. 

Your eyes met his, a smile crossing both of your faces. You two finally felt like you were a couple. A real couple, and you two were in love. You loved him before he loved you, but you were willing to wait, and when he realized that, words couldn’t describe the intense emotions he felt. 

“So, I’m like you now, huh?” you joked, shifting closer to him, 

“I don’t know what I want to teach you first...” he muttered. 

“We have time,” you assured. 

“A lot of it.”

You knew you loved each other. And you were finally his. Now and forever.

(( Y’all are way too nice to me, I’m starting to write like crazy just to simp for you guys and I’m starting to lose my sanity-)

[twisted-nox-sidus]

Hello there, I’ve just read your headcannon of Strix trolling the Octavinelle trio. LOL. Thank you for the laughs. Since April fool’s day is coming. If you have the time, can you do a scenario where Strix trolls the other dorms with the help of her dream eaters. If you can include Malleus, it’s okay. If not, I understand. Thank you and stay safe.

Anon continued: Hi there, during my previous post, I was asking whether or not Malleus would join Strix’s trolling in trolling the other dorms since April Fools is coming. Oh! I almost forgot, can Grim and Lilia join with Strix in trolling. Thank you and have a good day or night.

Oof, doing six other dorms is a lot in one post, so I’ll keep things condensed, hence the headcanon format (sorry if you really wanted a scenario version!). I see Malleus and Lilia as types to watch for entertainment than directly take part in it. Strix left Grim out of her plans since he himself is chaotic already. It was time for her to assume the lead and let it out, at least for the day.

It’s come to my attention that I like doing headcanons of Strix and her dream eaters, so I plan on doing more headcanons/scenarios involving the pesky but cute spirits. They don’t stop here so look forward to it! Happy April Fool’s~

Heartslabyul

Heartslabyul could handle strange things more so than any other dorms. Just not anything against the crimson tyrant’s 810 rules.

“WHO PAINTED THE ROSE MAZE BLUE?!!!”

Riddle’s face fumes as red as his hair. Not a single trace of red is found! There was only blue as far as the eye can see.

Deuce, Trey, and Cater were rendered speechless by the sight. Just...wow. They’re not even dreading the culprit’s fate at Riddle’s mercy; instead they’re impressed with the feat. Such commitment!

Meanwhile Ace was resisting from bursting in a fit of laughter. That madwoman actually did it! She even casually remarked about doing such a feat but no one had paid her words seriously. Bravo! Bra-freaking-vo!

Ah, speaking of...

“You have a lot of nerve showing your face, Strix! You must be begging for your head to roll! This is defying the Queen of Hearts herself! Repaint every single rose -by yourself- until all is red!”

“Sheesh, let’s not get a rage stroke. You’re still so young...” Strix nonchalantly yawns. “I wanted to surprise you so I spent the whole night painting every rose blue. Of course, I had a helping hand with me.”

She vaguely gestured to the dream spirit hiding behind her leg. Me Me Bunny’s ears act as another pair of hands, and this cutie is quite dextrous; it also knows “bun fu”.

“Oh you surprised me all right. [Surprise] is only an understatement!”

A sigh. “You don’t get it, Riddle. Think of it this way. Blue makes the red stand out. Then the only red rose we’ll see...is you, my queen.”

She leans forward to slip a strand of Riddle’s velvet red locks between her fingers and graze her lips on them. Her half-lidded bright blue eyes gaze into his steel gray pair. Perhaps she was still under the drowsy spell to comprehend what she was doing, though a part of her was knowingly teasing.

Riddle stared wide-eyed. His cheeks flushed in a different meaning this time.

She pulls back to give space and turns the other way.

“Plus, contrary to your words, I think you actually like my surprise. It’s certainly not boring. And it’ll only be for today.”

Strix flashed a lazy grin his way.

“Happy April Fool’s~”

Savanaclaw

Strix’s dream eaters are quirky, adorable, and colorful spirits. Jack often questions their capabilities. What can little prey do to the brawny hotheads of Savanaclaw?

A lot.

One day Strix was on patrol. Jack had been keeping an eye as she works part-time as the “cleaner” of Savanaclaw. Just how much power can she draw from these familiars? It was a test for Strix to see if she can meet the standards of a respectable magician in this academy.

Meanwhile Ruggie anticipates something interesting will happen. Strix’s dream eaters are an enigmatic force to reckon with. He himself certainly doesn’t plan on confronting them since that’s not what he signed up for as vice dorm leader.

The hyena snickered his trademark laugh. What mayhem will the prefect student do?

Strix had to break up a fight for the nth time this week. Things happened, and one of the students said something that forced Strix to deal her hand.

Instead of commanding her eagle and hawk to attack, she summoned a single chubby cat/dog hybrid with stubby legs. It doesn’t look like a clever beast.

Aww, look at it roll around and paw at air for affection while its pink tongue stuck out. They’re going to die of cuteness.

Strix blankly stared ahead. “Meow Wow... Balloon.”

Said spirit stood on all four legs and stopped wagging. Every onlooker watched as it inflated in size. It continued to grow and grow until no one could see the light of day. It was then everyone thought it’d be wise to run from immediate vicinity.

However it was too late when Meow Wow deflated in puffy smoke and sparkles, drowning its victims along with the plume of clouds.

Jack and Ruggie watched from a platform above where they could see the area in action.

“Magic familiar tamers have unique strengths...” Was what Jack concluded. A hawk and eagle’s cries pierce the sky.

Ruggie rubbed the back of his head. “Let’s be real; in this world, birds are a real hassle. As long as you don’t make an enemy of them...”

Strix was already gone by the time Meow Wow inflated. Her eagle dream spirit now willingly massive in size acted as her glider and transporter. Strix’s body dangled as she clung tightly to her Eaglider’s talons until it settled her on the balcony of a dorm room. Eaglider flew to patrol elsewhere alongside Halbird, the hawk dream eater.

Sitting on a chair was Leona playing with a chess piece in his hand. A chessboard was already set up on the table, the black side facing him.

“Enjoying your job, aren’t you.”

Strix allowed a sheepish smirk. She’s not exactly proud to engage in cleaning up people’s messes, but there’s the thrill she finds in it. “To be honest, yeah. I think I might be a sadist at this point...” She mumbled under her breath and continued, “Sorry for the wait. Let’s start.”

Scarabia

“Jamil, a rainbow fish is swimming through the skies!”

“Nonsense. There are no aquatic animals in Scarabia. You probably just saw a magic carpet.”

“Then how come no one told me magic carpets can shoot lasers??”

Before Jamil can decipher whatever the hell Kalim meant by that, the sapphire blue skies turned murky. No, that wasn’t the work of clouds.

To everyone’s bewilderment, they bared witness to a school of colorful fish roaming freely through the air and above the whole dormitory aimlessly.

Lasers shoot from their mouths and make contact with the other to cause sparks to erupt in colorful fireworks. So that’s the laser part...

Kalim’s eyes sparkled. “It’s like the aquariums at Octavinelle, but airborne! *gasp* I just got a great idea for the next party!”

“For the nth time Kalim no more parties this month!”

*whistle* “Fin Fatale’s actually enjoying this. Who’d knew?”

The two boys turn to see Strix approaching them causally.

Strix grinned. “Bet you don’t see this in Scarabia often.”

Pomefiore

Pomefiore students have a tendency to look into a mirror at almost any given opportunity. They recognize every detail of their their highly bestowed beauty, lest they would fail to maintain perfection.

Imagine their surprise when a carbon copy of themselves suddenly replaces their reflection, except in a horrendous eye-burning color palette that screams “clown”

Turns out the copy really is a clown creature with a large tongue. Jestabocky simply loves to prank people at the expense of their reactions, and it took a liking to Pomefiore students.

Strix giggled in amusement, much to Vil’s chagrin. Standing next to the man was a Vil duplicate, except in that hideous orange carrot and lemon yellow palette that made his eyes want to bleed. Of course no one could ever compare to the original, especially a circus mimic at that.

Rook was examining his blood red and ice blue carbon copy. What a refreshing change of pace! “Your dream eaters never cease to amaze, little owl.” “Don’t hunt them for sport though!”

Epel was staring at his clone awkwardly. Cotton candy hair and yellow eyes are an odd combination. And would it stop grinning uncharacteristically like that? It’s freaky.

Strix looks beside her. Teal green hair, violet eyes, and an orange to yellow uniform color scheme. It’s horrendous, but that’s where the fun lies. Her dream eaters don’t know the meaning of color coordination.

Ignihyde

Strix thinks a surprise here and there in the shut-in dorm leader’s life ought to keep him on his toes. She knows how much Ortho wants him to come out his room, and so she’ll deliver just that.

Idia recieved an alert message as he was browsing the net. A window pops up displaying the security camera footage across the entire Ignihyde dorm.

To his horror, rainbows invaded the cameras everywhere he looked. In each one there was a massive bipedal colorful panda doing something to the students behind the screen. One was lifting a student to the air, another swinging and cradling, and others generally giving bear hugs to any soul -dead or living- that enter their vision.

Though the pandas are harmless and students are unharmed (some seem to enjoy it while others are bewildered in shock), Idia was quaking in his chair. If he walks out the room he’ll be crushed by the pandas’ mercy! (And by rainbows and cuteness!)

He zoomed in one of the footages. A Kooma Panda held a sign directly to the camera.

[YOU’RE NEXT]

This is nightmare fuel! Nightmares, he tells you!

Just as he spun around to hide and cower in the safety of his blankets, he had failed to notice the looming shadow over his flaming head prior to this very moment.

There was the same panda. In his bedroom. Staring right into his soul.

It smiled. (I reread this part and lowkey I realized I was writing a FNaF fanfic for a moment wut)

Idia wheezed. How did it get here?! Was it capable of teleporting?!

The shut-in had never ran for the door to the outside world with such eagerness in his life up to now. He slammed the door open and was about to hit the breeze when suddenly he recognized Strix standing right in front of him.

He practically tackled the poor girl (oof). Just when he dreads the contact with the floor, he felt something bouncy push them off. And then the same bouncing source came from behind. Now he’s squeezed between something.

The world spun in his eyes. Light-hearted laughter snapped him out of his trance. His soul actually came close to leaving him the moment Strix’s face registered in his vision. So close!

Two Kooma Pandas were hugging and nuzzling the two in a human-dream eater sandwich. Awww.

From the sidelines, Ortho watched in awe. That’s one way to bring his big bro out of the room. He eagerly joins in the hug fest with Strix and an all-too drained Idia.

Strix giggled and wrapped her arms around Idia and the panda behind him. She was clearly enjoying this. “Happy April Fools~”

Diasomnia

First things first: Strix can’t fool two all mighty and powerful faeries. Instead, she’ll entertain them like she and her dream eaters have always done. After all, boredom is their kind’s biggest enemy.

One day, Diasomnia students were walking down the halls when they notice a colorful bat creature hanging upside down from the ceiling, innocently watching people pass by.

There was one Komory Bat. The next door over there are two. The door after that door appeared three. In front of the dorm gate there may or may not be a bat perched to greet students in and out.

In the library, students are surprised when they’re greeted by the librarian aid...who was working upside down and levitating with gravity magic.

Strix casually acts as though it was natural. When she had to move away from the counter she continued walking upside down on the ceiling. If the ceiling was too high she’d float over just above people’s heads, and address when needed.

Strix likes to mess with Sebek by doing a “handstand” on his broad shoulders while talking to Silver. Sebek would shoo her off and when he does, Strix still pesters him by floating with a mocking haughtiness behind the way she rocks back and forth while grinning mischievously. The sight is hilarious, much to Sebek’s chagrin.

She can see why Lilia likes doing this. By the end of the day though, that’s enough walking on ceilings for the year.

Strix greets Malleus at eye level. “How’d you like it? Not boring, right?”

The horned fae chuckled. The glimmer of accomplishment in her stunning blue eyes amuses him the most. Like a child who proudly boasts their little achievements to appeal to their parents. It was adorable. “Certainly.”

[naromoreau]

For Love I Come

A fic no one asked for jaksdh. Thank you so much to @outranks for giving me the idea and betaing and being and absolute sweetheart about it. Thank you so much!!!!! and also to @seedsplease and @bintangy for giving it a read. THANKS YOU GUYS!

Pairing: Female Deputy x Sharky Boshaw x Jacob Seed

Raiting: E __________________________________________________

At some point Rook's gonna have to choose. To actually speak loud and clear instead of going in roundabout ways whenever they poke and probe at her to figure out what's the deal.

There's no deal to be dealt with as far as Rook concerns. She's perfectly happy the way things are, foraying into the Vet's Center whenever she feels like it, to be completely wrecked by Jacob, in that weird and unusually comfortable dynamic of two people joined by the fray ends of their own needs. Inches away from warm intimacy.

And that makes the other end of her unsought arrangement, very complicated. Toeing the line of dangerous if she can judge by Jacob’s face every time she leaves him. But Sharky. Rook can say without the sliver of a doubt there’s something going on between them that surpasses the fucking. He gets her. And for what she knows, that’s something that’s always considerably underrated.

Damn choices. That’s always been the thorn on Rook's side. The reason why she ended up taking home Bugger and Whiskers when she finally decided she wanted a pet. A pet. But when the puppy had wiggle that little tail of his, she didn’t even think it twice.

And five years into the future, is the same thing all over again. Rook can’t keep waltzing around tacit and implied statements. Especially because now she has a pretty good idea of what she wants, an idea that had jackhammered its way into her brain since the last time she visited the Marina looking for Addie’s advice. But it seems ludicrous, because they both are as immiscible as water and oil.

“You leaving already?”

Jacob sits on the flat cot they spend their nights in whenever she decides she misses him. One rough hand sits at the small of her back and Rook can’t stop a broken sigh from escaping her. Those few steps to the door are always the hardest.

“Yeah, have to catch up on a lot of things.”

“Already late to burn down half the County huh?” He scoots closer, burying his face and what’s probably post-orgasm induced affection in the crook of her neck. Rook bites her lip trying to saddle her thumping heart, because it tastes too much like the real deal.

“I think John misses me already,” she says with a smirk, leaning to kiss him softly, catching a half-grunt from Jacob on her mouth. “Don’t want him to feel left out, you know how he’s like.”

She scrambles off the bed, picking up her discarded clothes, feeling his eyes taking in the tiniest detail of her. He’s counting her bruises and marks, she knows, trying to determine which are his and which are-- well, not. He’s too good of a huntsman to not read the signs.

Why hasn’t he snapped her neck until now? She has no clue. A lot of restraint perhaps. And a good amount of good ole feelings. She’s willing to jackknife into the belief he has them all.

“When are you coming back?”

There’s longing grating in the low pitch of his voice that makes Rook’s breath catch in her throat. Looking back at him is a mistake. She can’t fight those baby blues of his. They always manage to make her weak in the knees.

“I dunno. Two weeks?”

“That’s a long time, Rook," he says, as if he actually cares. Which Rook knows he does.

She clenches her jaw to avoid thinking in the annoying fluttering butterflies in her stomach. “Why? You need me for something?”

“Playing dumb is not your best trait, darling.”

“And speaking your mind, clearly isn’t yours, old man."

He rumbles with laughter, tilting his head back, baring his throat to her. All those powerful muscles tighten like chords, and she stares a bit at the long expanse of his neck wanting to dive back into bed and just hold him and be held by him. But Sharky is also waiting and she feels torn.

Rook sighs.

"Why are you doing this?" Jacob finally asks, glancing at her with a frown.

"Doing what?" She wants to sound nonchalant as she balances on one leg while putting on her jeans. Rook isn't sure she wants to see everything they have go southways. What is exactly gonna happen once the bubble of unsaid words ripple off her mouth.

"You know damn well what," Jacob pokes again.

"Scout’s word, I don't."

"Jesus fuck, Rook, you're infuriating."

Jacob snaps with the brewed frustration of weeks of unanswered silence but Rook refuses to bend her knee. She doesn't want to see her world shifting into something bleak if he's not around.

So she stalls. "And now you're starting to sound like John."

"Not funny,” he grouses.  

"Yeah, I don't know what's the thing going on between you and him, but you guys need to talk it out before Joseph forces you both to do it."

She sees a mash-up of emotions on his face, and a deadly stare, Jacob Seed's specialty. And she gives up.

Rook flops at his side, shoulders hunched. "Fine, fine! What do you wanna know?"

Jacob grabs her chin and tilts her head up until the only thing she sees is him. Which is always a sight. "Stop playing games and tell me why you keep coming back to me."

"I um, I just- I really like the cold," she babbles, "and the whole Jack London aesthetic you have going here, like I really dig that-"

"Rook."

"And you have cute dogs-"

"Rook."

She rolls her eyes at the whispered command to mow down her bullshit, but braces to spill the anxiety off her chest.

"Okay, fine. I like you, okay?" Rook sighs at her own confession, not wanting to stop, because if she does there's not a certified chance she'll finish. "You ain't as bad as you think you are, in fact, you're fucking amazing and every time I go I just wanna go back the moment I’m pass the fences but--”

“But what?”

“Do you really want me to say it?” She's in pain, absolutely fucking unnecessary pain.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t leave him.”

His fingers squeeze her arms, just so and his face goes dark. She sees the tense line of his jaw spasming under the pressure of gritted teeth. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know Jacob, okay?" Rook's angry. Hurt and upset, and a million more things that spike up too fast and recede after, so she can't name them. "Look, I never lied to you, we never said this was an exclusive kinda thing, and honestly? If you want me to go and never come back, if you want to, I don’t know-- kick me out of your life, then you gotta say it, ‘cause otherwise--”

She stops because the thought is just venom. She can't live without him, not after everything she already gave up in her life. For once, just once she doesn't want to renounce something.

“What if I want this to be exclusive?” Jacob says, far more calmed than she expected. But it's just an act, 'cause his shoulders are slumped and there's a waver in his voice totally alien for him.

“And why would you want that?”

“I thought Deputies were smart, perhaps I was wrong," he quips, wrapping his hand around her neck and pulling her in, until her forehead rests against his.

“Cut the crap, Jacob," she hisses.

“I love you Rook.”

Her throat is dry, and the kiss that follows sweeps coherence and preformed ideas aside. It feels right. Like home. But the hollow that it's always there when she just has one and not both, weights more.

“I can’t do it, I--" she says, tongue tripping over her teeth and words that are not enough." I really like--, fuck, I really love you, but I can’t."

“You know I could just kill him right?”

Rook laughs to dissipate the terrifying image because he could. Probably very easily. “Yeah, but you won’t. You ain’t like that Jacob," she says to reassure herself, as he clutches to the sides of her flannel with a white-knuckle grip.

“Then what you want from me?” He says with a lilt that sounds heartbreakingly close to a plea.

A prickly wave of heat rushes up, settling on her cheeks, pushing the words out of her throat and into a sputtered mess. “A threesome." Jacob doesn't move or make any sign to acknowledge her statement. Rooks blinks in utter confusion until she sees a pale tint under the scarring and grooves of his face. “Just to see how it goes, how we work together-” She hurriedly adds.

“I think some beers over some grilled meat would work better for it, sweetheart-” Jacob says, and the fact that he's speaking and not throwing her out St. Francis is good enough of a sign. He cups her cheek and Rooks heaves a soft breath of relief.

“I know, I know, but hear me out okay?", she says, clasping her eyes shut, bringing his rough fingers to her lips, "I love you Jacob, but I’m tired to keep my life split, hiding things I shouldn't be hiding. I want you both and that’s non negotiable.”

Through the cracks of the old windows, the wind howls, batting the threadbare curtains, a perfect set up for the anticipation boiling in Rook’s blood.

“Shit, I must be outta my fucking mind,” he says.

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

“What we doing here, shorty?”

Convincing Sharky is surprisingly more difficult than convincing Jacob. He huffs and kicks at the base of his old couch, killing the old and probably moldy thing for good. It takes her at least two hours to drill the idea into his thick skull, just to realize that he’s just afraid. And the words pour out unbidden. She’ll leave him because, he ain’t worth the trouble. Which is silly, and she tells him so.

The pick up truck stops just outside the fences of St. Francis.

“Remember what we talked about?” She says, eyeing his hands clasping the buttstock of his shotgun as she struggles out the truck. Rook’s counting her breaths, trying to steady herself, and don’t let the spark of fear of the unknown tumble off the decision she just made.   

“Yeah, but-- Are we picking up a judge to go or what?”

“What?”

She makes her way into the old building followed by a Sharky-on-edge. At the entrance Rooks nods at a waving Peggie. “Hi, Miss Rook, brother Jacob is waiting for you in his office.” The man is all sunny smiles and bright nonchalance which is weird and just hammers Rook in the head at how off this is.

Sharky scoffs at her side. “Miss Rook? Dep, how often--”

He freezes mid step.

“C’mon, Shark.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he almost yelps, “I thought--”

“Not here!”

She sees it in his face. He’s about to splutter his concocted half conclusions that will hold a good amount of info of what she does and how she fucks in her free time and that’s certainly something she doesn’t want the Peggies to find out. Not anyone for that matter.

Rook pulls him by the sleeve until they are in a secluded corridor, just around the corner of Jacob’s office that doubles as bedroom. “Now, spill it.”

Sharky’s eyes glint between confused blinks. “I thought-- Uh, I thought you meant John.”

“What? Why?” It comes off as squeak more suiting in a toddler’s toy than in a grown ass woman.

“I dunno, you've seen him,” Sharky shrugs, “he's fuckin loaded and suave and y’know, all those things chicks dig, and uh, you kept talking ‘bout a dude who tickled your fancy and I dunno Dep, I just-- I thought it was the psychotic fuckface."

She skips over, a little overeager. "Well, it's not, does that change anything?"

Sharky chuckles and leans, chasing her nearness. "Fuck, Dep, you sure know how to pick ‘em.”

Rook wraps her arms around him, pushing herself up on her toes to plant her lips on his. "I sure do." He rolls his hips grinding against her, always ready, and at half mast if the bulge rubbing on her thigh is what she thinks it is.

A door creaks nearby and common sense wedges in, so she pushes Sharky away, not too bluntly she hopes, because this is not how she wants Jacob to find out.

Just in time.

"I was wondering where you were," he says, voice sizzling with something Rook can't quite place. “My guards said you checked in the complex five minutes ago.” His gaze slides off Sharky and onto the wall as if he was nothing more than a blemish on the paint.

"Yeah, I uh-- got lost."

Jacob raises an eyebrow. "Come ere, sweetheart.”

They reach the door of his lair and Rook swallows an impatient huff.

“Get in and let's set this before I'll change my mind,” Jacob looks past her shoulder, “and send your Drubman lap dog packing, he can wait with my guards at the entrance.”

“Uh, I'm a Boshaw, not a Drubman, dude.”

‘Big difference.” Jacob folds his arms across his chest.  “Now kitten, send him off.”

“Yeah, uh, I--” Rook clears her throat, “I can't do that, Jake.”

She feels Sharky's arm slinging around her waist, and sees Jacob’s face distorting into the most absolutely perfect depiction of someone who’s about to have a stroke.

“You okay?”

His eyes narrow and for a moment Rook thinks he’s gonna pounce on Sharky like one of his judges.

The tight line on his jaw snaps. “Fuck, I just lost a few hundred bucks,” he bristles, shattering the heavy silence.

He turns on his heels and steps off the way signaling them to get in. Rook is greeted by a newly bought, expensive-looking bed replacing his old one.

“I told John to buy it for me, and now I can’t make him pay for it.” Jacob answers to the nonexistent question, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Fuck, darling, I thought you were talking about John.”

“What?”

“See, Dep?--” Sharky chirps, turning to Jacob to pat him on the shoulder completely unaffected by the deadly stare, “you and I are in the same frequency, amigo.”

Rook chooses a spot just next to him to flop down, nudging him on the shoulder. “Yeah, well, I was not.”

“No kidding.” He doesn’t laugh but the smirk on his face breaks some of the tension lingering in the air.

Sharky takes it as a cue to collapse next to her. “Now, excuse me if I’m outta line--”

“You are,” Jacob says.

“-- but I ain’t waiting for you to figure out your brotherly issues standing up like some mouth-breathing peggie, no offense man, my legs are killin’ me and I-- uh, wow, this is soft,” he says bouncing a little, “like real quality you have here, Jacob, can I call you Jacob?”

“No.”

“Anyway, I was just sayin’ we need some booze.”

“I thought you were incapable of saying something smart, Boshaw, but you’re right.”

“No. We’re doing this sober or I’m done here.”

They both shrink at her sides.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s like-- like I’m wasted already,” Sharky gruffs.

“You got it right,” Jacob scoffs.

Rook can almost feel the silence, thick, sagging her shoulders and tries to think on how to actually turn words into action. Jacob's thigh presses against hers and Sharky's arm brushes her own. Up until now she'd never realized how fucking warm they both are, like human furnaces melting her little by little. Her jacket feels constricting.

She's definitely not ready for Sharky taking off his pants in one swift move and jumping on the bed. "'Aight, let's do this," he says with the violent twang of an 80's action movie which effectively kills the pretense they're not there to fuck.

Rook can't do another thing than grunt.

“How do you wanna do this, sweetheart?" Jacob sighs, while his hand brushes her thigh up and down.

"I just--" She swallows a hard gulp while a jolt careens down her spine. "I want you both-- In me." Rook shudders hearing her own shaky, definitely harsh demand. Sharky sits at her side again, taking her jacket off and tossing it over a nearby table.

Jacob kisses her then, tongue darting into her mouth until the whole awkward angle of the situation gets swiped by his closeness. It's soft, sensual, thick with want, and a hint of despair. She doesn't have time to worry about Sharky, because he's already tracing the line of her jaw with chapped lips. A hand skitters down her shirt, rolling a stiff nipple and the room echoes her keening mewl. They're testing her, vying for her responses, while she's falling apart.

Air gets puffed out of her lungs in moans and small whimpers that are certainly not dignified, as she flexes her arms to hold onto something. Jacob’s shoulders, Sharky’s chest, she's not sure. Her body is already responding to the unspoken ideas, soaking her underwear, enough to know she's dripping on whatever is beneath her, two sets of hands wandering, when she's used to one. It already feels like it's too much when is not near enough. And they grope, and fondle, while their mouths nip and lick until they leave her bare, pulsing and wanton. Her clothes are off in swift and hungry movements that have her heart hammering against her ribcage.

Sharky’s fingers prod at her entrance, while Jacob’s rough, big hands clasp her thighs pulling them apart. Rook fights to keep her eyes open, glazed with a fog of need, just to be met with pupils blown wide by lust.  

Sharky soon pushes two fingers inside her and she arches into Jacob's chest with a short gasp and a really tacky buck of her hips forward. So eager that’s just embarrassing.

"Easy, Boshaw," Jacob warns, voice edge sharper than the blade of his knife.

"Dude, I know what I'm doing."

And he does, damn if she knows. His fingers curl and his thrusts are slow, deliberately scissoring to prepare her for more. For which one of them, she still doesn't know nor cares.

Rook's head spins when Jacob's questioning fingers reach her slit, brushing where Sharky is sliding in and out until he adds one. Her breath comes out in stuttered gasps at the sensation of her walls struggling to accommodating them both.  

"I--I..." Words dissolve in a flow of saliva, body jerking under the uncoordinated assault.

"Yes?" Jacob says, licking her ear.

"I can't-- I just-- need--"

"We know, shorty, we're gonna take care of you."

Their fingers are gone in the blink of an eye, and Rook clenches painfully around thin air, biting her own lip.

"Come 'ere."

Is Jacob who pulls her over him, easily, so easily she whimpers a little at the manhandling. Her own slick drips down her thighs, sodding the fabric of his pants. Soon she's clambered over his lap, naked and flushed and sweating.

"Relax, doll," Sharky breathes against her neck, kneeled down behind her and very much naked for what Rook can feel against her ass.  

When did it happen?

Sharky ruts forward, cock nestling between her asscheeks, flaring goosebumps all over her. Rook feels the urge to palm at her clit to find some release but she falls forward, pressing palms flat over Jacob’s chest, thanking he still has his shirt on so she can clutch at it as if her life depended on it.

“Nice and easy, kitten,” he rasps pulling out his cock, already leaking and swollen and just perfect as she remembers. His jeans scrap at her inner thighs as she tries to balance to keep her legs apart, bracketing his hips. She doesn’t wanna know, doesn’t wanna think about what his brothers would do to Sharky and her if they find out. She doesn’t even know if she’s in the liberty to scream her lungs off, as she is positively sure she will in a few minutes.

Sharky places a wet kiss on the nape of her neck just then, making her shiver. “Just breath, babe.”

Jacob smirks underneath her, clasping her hips and eases her down on his lap until she’s fully seated on the cradle of his hips. She fights a moan at the hard stretch, rolling her hips to try to adjust at the intrusion.

“All good?” Jacob groans, running his palm up,cupping her breast, and she mumbles a ‘fuck, yes’, as if her breath wasn’t coming in hitching gusts or her thighs weren’t quivering at his sides. He feels so good inside her, and she rises to her knees just to flop back down, stealing a deep moan from him.

“You feel so good, sweetness, so damn good.”

Still, he doesn’t move and it’s driving her up the wall, even if right now she’s completely lost to the point she can’t count to ten.

“Are you ready for me, babe?” Sharky says to her temple.

Rook nods. It’s the only thing that she seems to be doing since this whole thing began. They’re gonna split her apart and fuck if she’s not eager to be used, and be full and fucking satisfied.

One moment later there’s a good amount of lube on Sharky’s fingers, as he slips them inside her ass. Jacob pushes upwards just when Sharky stretches her open, and it’s enough to drag whines from the back of her throat she’s completely unable to bridle in.

“Can I?” Sharky finally asks.

She chokes on a sob at the loss of his fingers. “Yeah, please-- just, please.”

The fact that Jacob has gone still, tells her they’re really trying to, despite whatever misplaced sense of possession they have about her.

The tip of Sharky’s cock press against her ass and she almost goes cross-eyed once he’s inside her to the hilt.

“Fuck.” She scratches at the broad expanse of Jacob’s chest, slamming her eyes shut. “Shitfuck-shit-”

The sensation almost makes her believe her spine will tear in half, but the dull pain of the first thrust is gone in seconds, replaced by a jolt of pleasure that jumbles her brains. They’d done this before, but never like this, when she’s sure the heavy press of their cocks inside is the perfect definition of stuffed.

“Keep forgetting how tight you are, shorty,” Sharky pants on her neck, one hand splayed on her lower back, the other just above one of Jacob’s, trying as he might to balance behind her. “All good?”

“Should we stop?” Jacob asks, and Rook can’t but be amazed at his restraint as she feels him throbbing inside her.

“No-- please, don’t. I want it, fuck--”

She rolls her hips with heightened senses, and just then they push inside her, completely out of sync, completely out of whatever shred of grounding reality they all were grasping until now. Is not something she was expecting, the perfect, astounding fullness that makes her want more, and move, buck up and down, and back again, hips out of her damn control.

“Slow down, babe, or this is gonna be a helluva short trip,” Sharky moans, gripping her chin and tilting her head to the side so he can kiss her. A kiss that soon becomes an exchange of broken gasps that she has too soon to let go to catch her breath.

The slick slide of their cocks along her walls is slowly propeling her to the edge, and she hears herself beg for more, faster, deeper with a stark voice of sheer need.

“So greedy, darling, you think you can take it all?”

She’d answer if she remembered how to speak so she grunts in acquiescing.

Jacob’s arms snuck around her waist, bringing her closer to catch her lips in a stifling kiss, all teeth and tongue and the sweet taste of what’s right. This right here.

The broken rhythm soon establishes as a constant wave, a heartbeat that guides every pounding and sink, and she manages to find some leverage to play her own tricks. And then it’s her the one fucking them deep, harsh and quickly, even if her knees ache and she’s not sure if she will be able to walk tomorrow. Or the day after. But their moans and whines are good enough of a fuel until her legs ache and she can’t take it anymore.

They’re all rough pants and moans, not letting her do what she wants, determined to make her come apart on their cocks, before they fill her up. She can’t keep track of every move and drag, vaguely registering how deep they’re sinking, Sharky yanking her back so he can lick and kiss every spot he can reach.

A hand sneaks down and presses a flat thumb to her clit, but she’s too far lost on the their cocks pushing hard and hitting every right spot inside her to even notice to whom it belongs to. The pleasure burns close to scorching her, so overwhelming she doesn’t realize she’s sobbing. Her arms now gripping Jacob’s biceps feel weak, just when the waves of her orgasm start crashing against her. She trips over the edge with a special hard press of Jacob’s dick, just when Sharky decides to give deep roll of his hips and every muscle tight and on fire, and everything around her peters out into sparks of white as she comes, harder than ever before.

“Oh shit,” Sharky moans in her hair, as his hips slap against her ass, speed faltering.

Jacob’s movements lose momentum for a second, as she feels his cock practically sodden with her release. “Fuck.”

They guide her through her peak and undoing, as she finally falls slack over Jacob’s shoulder, silently and thoroughly enjoying every pound and harsh thrust. She considers fighting back for a second, to move and buck against them but her legs are of no use, and she whines as they chase their own releases, making her body jerk as they use her for their own pleasure.

Jacob comes first with the familiar growl, amplified a hundred times over, stilling after a deep push and she knows, she positively feels her insides painted with his thick cum. His baby blues stand out against his reddened cheeks, lips parted to regain his breath and Rook kisses him again.

Sharky’s push, rough and off any rhythm, slams her down on Jacob’s chest until there’s a part sob-part grunt bouncing on the room before his hips go flush against her ass, until he finally slides out and she feels his come dripping out her rear.  

“Whoa.” It’s an exclamation that comes between ragged breaths from Sharky’s part and she sees it mirrored in Jacob’s eyes. She’s a mess. An utter, sweaty, satisfied mess and she loves it.

The bed is big enough they can all fit without smashing each other’s essential bits and once the heat has considerably tuned down, she pulls the covers over them.  

“You know Jacob? I was lying,” she says, as she turns on her side to face him, her hand drawing circles on Sharky’s hip, “I hate the cold.”

Jacob chuckles, staring at the ceiling and maneuvering beneath the covers to kick off his jeans. “Yeah well, I think we can make something to correct that, darling.”

Rook turns to kiss Sharky, just to turn to Jacob after it. “Thanks-- seriously, to both of you.”

“It was good.” Jacob grins. Not just at her. Looking behind her.

Rook is a hundred percent ecstatic.

“Yeah, within my top five-- no, top three experiences.”

They finally share a laugh that pulls at Rook’s heart, filling it with searing bliss as the two men she loves, share a bed, sandwiching her in the most perfect way.

“Hey, Jake-man, uh, y’know I’ve been thinking.” Sharky turns to look directly at Jacob, slinging an arm over Rook’s hip.

“About?”

“I think-- I think I know how to make John pay for the bed if you wanna--”

Jacob’s face shifts in a shit eating grin. “I’ll let you restock from my armory, if you can pull it off.”

“Deal.”

Rook feels herself growing tired, exhausted, every joint and muscle screaming and her brain slowly fading into sleep. “So-- can we do this again?”

She knows she has no right of asking more of them. Not when they’re just crossing the line of acquaintances to acquaintances that fuck the same woman, but she hopes.

“Sure, why not?” Sharky mumbles, already sprawled on his side of the bed.

Rook turns to Jacob, with what she thinks are her best pleading eyes.

He blows air hard, brows pulling closer in what seems a deep furrow and her stomach sinks.

“Maybe.” He smirks.

[ala-mhinyan]

II :: Bargain

{{ TW: Extortion + Misgendering }} {{ Feat Mentions of: @monsutanokami, @talesfromthegameff14 and @dunrai-ffxiv }} The letter had arrived by hunting hawk around midday, right as C’tolemy was finishing up his chores to the village and was preparing to return back to Eorzea proper. The trip home had been...strange, to say the least. It was his first return back to home soil after the incident at the Pack company house that had turned his long, curly mane into a curly mess that barely brushed his shoulders. His kin didn’t look him in the eye whenever he addressed them, a silent blessing that both soothed his fraying pride and rankled deep his conviction. It had made the morning hard and midday harder. By the time he had everything ready?—He was more than willing to return home. It wouldn’t feel as though he had disappointed everyone who had even glimpsed at him there. 

There—Eorzea? Everyone thought the ‘new look’ was something cute or something he would settle into by the time the eighth sun had passed—not that that was anything better to feel anyway. He’d lost the one thing that was -his- when he fled Kushal. The one thing he’d poured himself into to maintain and had actually come to be a source of pride—gone in one night. One moment of battle. He can still smell the scent of burning flesh and hair every time he turns his head too fast, catching a section of curls that brush past his cheek. His stomach turns and he has to close his eyes.

They’ll never understand.

The details of the letter are more important; it was a parchment paper carefully rolled and tied off with a deep red string. A stamp on the far right end tells him all he needs to know—a wolf’s head holding a dagger. He retrieves the letter from the hawk, brushing it’s feathers with the back of one claw and thrusts his arm up to send the beast on it’s way. It spirals up and flutters away, headed toward Rhalgr’s Reach, disappearing beyond the spires long after Tolemy’s gaze has shifted back to the parchment in his hand. He unravels it with a sharp tug, reading the single line at the center of the parchment: ‘Kugane. Now. Bring your mask.’ C’tolemy resists the urge to grimace at what he reads, neatly rolling the parchment back up as he strolls to the center fire pit and tosses the letter into the flame. He watches until he is sure the trail burns away with that parchment before turning away from the fire, gathering his things and waving goodbye to his kin. A pull inward, a focus of swirling aether and he plunges into the lifestream.

< Kugane: Midday >

The ripple splits, black and purple aether crackling as C’tolemy emerges from the teleport—straightening up the Hingan wolf mask that hides his face. A quick pit stop home allowed him to bathe, change clothing and grab the dreaded mask before teleporting back here. There was no worry of anyone catching his activities at home; they weren’t home at this time. Never were. It’s what made these meetings so guilt-wriddlingly convenient. His attire would place him as a native of the land and at this point? He may as well be. The trips to Kugane to meet his ‘friends’ have been increasing in frequency lately and, as such, have made it known to his lovers that something is going on that the Seeker is hiding. Just the thought has his stomach churning again, a hand coming to rest over his gut in a placid attempt to soothe the guilt. ‘Soon,’ his mind whispers, ‘You will tell them soon.’ 

His feet take him through the well-populated city, navigating the crowd with practiced ease until he comes to a stop in front of an establishment donned ‘The Golden Rook’. A glance about him and he slips into the eatery, murmuring quiet acknowledgement to the greeter that meets him. The hyur woman gives him a once-over and guides him through the low-lit restaurant to the very back room and right up to, what appears, to be a blank wall coveted by a decorative plant. She brushes the fern aside, slips her hand into the small opening hidden behind it and pulls open the false wall, revealing a simple sliding door. That too, is slid open and C’tolemy bows his head in thanks, slipping through the dark entrance that leads him down a flight of steps into a darker room lit only by candle. In the center of the room sits a male miqo’te behind a low table, similar in size and stature to Tolemy, dressed in similar attire with a similar mask sitting on the table. 

The man doesn’t bother looking up at the sound of footfalls, busy working on a letter while C’tolemy comes and sits opposite to him, removing the mask and setting it to the opposite side of the other man’s mask. It’s a careful dance that he plays well. Finally, as if addressed, the man lifts his pale blue gaze to smile upon C’tolemy.

“Well met, Lupa. You made it here safely?”

“Yes. What is it you ah calling me ‘eah foah, Nameless?”

The man smiles politely at his long friend of many years, fox-faced and polite despite the hell he wreathes around his person. It is never a good thing when Nameless calls for you. He retrieves a rolled up parchment, similar to the one that was delivered to C’tolemy earlier and holds it out toward his golden friend. C’tolemy doesn’t move to take it. “You’ve been assigned to pick up another contract for The Syndicate. You’ve been doing well with the last three I gave you—despite the little mix up on your last kill. I assure you, no one will be there to rob you of your meal, Lupa.” A snarl pulls at the edge of Tolemy’s lips but he doesn’t let it show, golden eyes turning sharp. Akuno, that kill-stealing bastard… The Seeker breathes in deep and shakes his head.

“I ‘ave no desiah to pick up anothah contract, Nameless. I ‘ave no desiah to retuhn to being Lupa. That is behind me. I onleh did these few because you said you ‘ad no one else that could and I owed you a favoah. Th’favoah is paid, Nameless. I want nothing more of this.”

The Keeper sitting across from his doesn’t change his eerie smile, nor shift the parchment away from Tolemy. He sits unmoving, smile ever present, letting the silence grow. Just before it begins to unsettle, he speaks up.

“Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy the contracts I gave you, Lupa?”

“Theah wheah enjoyable, yes. But I do naught desiah that life anehmoah.”

Nameless cocks his head at this particular response, leaning back as he sets the rolled parchment onto the table. A curious look colors his expression, that smile still never moving.

“Tell me, Lupa. Does Gyr Abania mean so little to you now?”

C’tolemy stiffens, that snarl riding his spine once more. “What ah you on ab—” “It must be so. For you to deny contracts from me, from someone who has only ever had your revenge in mind. I was the one who signed you to the Ala Mhigan Resistance. I was the one who gave you every garlean contract that passed beneath my fingers. I was the one who has always given you special privilege to do what you must for your country without the consequences any normal person would face. It must not mean as much to you anymore, Ala Mhigo, that is.” The Coeurl shifts slightly in place, his long tail having gone from a slow sway behind him to lying still with the tail tip tik-toking behind him. He furrows his brows, responding curtly. “My allegiance to mine countreh, mine kin and mine tribe is th’onleh reason I still wield these blades. I ‘ave nevah failed a contract. I ‘ave nevah let you down. The wah is something I am monitohing caehfulleh mineself and ‘ave resigned mineself to th’moment th’sands need my blades. If anehthing, this is th’last thing I would be weak on.” Nameless bobs his head in an understanding nod, using his free hand to spread out the various papers he was previously writing on.

“Oh? Is that so, Lupa? Then, care to explain something to me? Should your tribe, your blood, your country mean so much to you… Why have you not been present in it?” The Keeper’s documents house a number of descriptions and sections of map. Upon closer inspection, the maps detail out various areas around Eorzea. The Goblet. The Lavender Beds. Shirogane and The Mists. Red circles are drawn on each map, an approximation of a point on each map; The Proving Grounds. The Haughty Mason. The Pack Company House and—their home in The Mists. Tolemy is still, eyes focused on each map while panic and rage build in his gut like bile.

“You spend much time in Eorzea, Lupa. You wander, yes—You explore, yes. But these locations catch me by surprise with how often you come and go from them. Particularly…” A claw taps the Mist map. “This one. Two Xaela, you, a child and a newborn. Is this the family you’ve made for yourself?” C’tolemy snaps his gaze up to meet Nameless’, that snarl finally riding along his tongue with such intensity it rattles the table. His tail is still and the air around him has shifted to something dangerous, the predator within’ waking up at the mention of his carved out existence and loved ones. Anything, gods above, anything but them.

“Leave them out of this.”

“I will leave your perceived family, even the others that you seem to hold so dear, alone—If you comply, Lupa. Take the contract.”

Nameless’ smile has fallen, the predatory gleam in his blue eyes threatening hell upon his future should the Seeker back down. The line of muscle along the Seeker’s shoulders and arms press hard against the cloth barely containing them, loving cradling each shift in muscle as Tolemy leans forward just a little—to be matched by Nameless’ lean as well. They have both gone still and silent, tension building in the moments before two monsters spring upon one another. The moment, however, never comes. Nameless abruptly smiles and straightens up, relaxing once more with that fox-faced expression. “You will, won’t you? For the children.” C’tolemy snarls low once more, nearly going blind with rage at the mention of his precious children. Their precious children. He’ll be damned if he lets this happen, damned if he bends and damned if says nothing. Terbish’s smiling face flashes in his mind and he relents, hand snapping out and taking the rolled parchment with a loud hiss. “Onleh undah th’condition that mine famileh and mine Pack be left out of this. Next time you bring theah names up at this table I will rip yoah throat out with mine teeth, undahstood?” The words leave no room for argument.

Nameless bobs his head in another good natured sign of understanding, chuckling out brightly. “Of course, of course! I am a friend, am I not, Lupa?” A screening smile pulls on the man’s lips, curling into a malicious smirk of a man that knows he has a dog on a leash.

“The details are all present there. Report back here once you have filled the contract. Happy hunting, Lupa.” C’tolemy rises without word, snatching up his mask and pulling it on roughly as he heads to ascend the staircase and leave his friend behind. Nameless watches the Seeker leave in a huff, long, jackal like ears tweaking as footfalls above him make it clear of C’tolemy’s exit. Only then does Nameless drop the smirk to a vacant expression, leaning forward on the table with elbows keeping him propped up.

A hand lifts and jingles the linkpearl dangling from an ear, the Keeper speaking softly.

“Your will has been carried out. Lupa has accepted the contract, though reluctant to because of his new family and responsibilities in Eorzea. How shall we proceed?”

A moment of silence before a womanly voice replies back, 

“I suppose it is time to paeh mine daughtah a visit.”

(( @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast ))

[everlarkficexchange]

Unmasked ~ Nine

Written by: ~ M ~

Prompt #88

Rating: E (Explicit) This fic will contain consensual sexual content; mild language; discussions of injuries, illness, and amputations in a historical setting; discussions of miscarriage; discussions of minor character suicide; references to non consensual sexual situations.

My thanks to the moderators of @everlarkficexchange for always running an entertaining event, and for playing along with a little fun and mystery. Please enjoy the ninth chapter of this adventure. Previous installments can be found here. Regards,

~ M ~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Chapter 9 ~~

In the coming days, I have little time for leisure. I am furthermore unable to decide what preparations are necessary for the arrival of my betrothed. Etiquette dictates that we put forth the best Everdeen has to offer. I do not see the point. The man I am to marry has already accused me of fortune hunting. He expects some disrepair and would likely question the presence of too much luxury or well being. Let him see then what he no doubt believes of me – gentile poverty and desperation drove my actions in the Capitol.

There is also the small matter that I have no desire to impress him. Why should I? This marriage is not a celebration but an unfortunate necessity. And he has seen me covered in mud after all.

My mother is appalled when I override several of her mandates, lessening the preparations to what one might be able to get away with your closest of friends paying a last minute visit — someone who knows every detail of your life and shall not pass judgement if a few things are neglected, so long as they are welcomed with love. In truth, I am inviting Peeta’s judgement. It would give me cause to hate him more.

“We are not welcoming a prince, Mother. Please cease wasting everyone’s time on pointless chores.”

She fumes silently and motions for poor Hannah to continue polishing silver fixtures in the house that no one has noticed before and that I doubt Peeta will notice unless it is to comment on our financial situation like the bastard he is. I almost wish my mother would return to weeping over my father’s bedside if that would give me peace.

When I do find leisure time, I spend it with Madge, Maysilee, and my sister. They are a solace of joy and laughter in the chaos of my thoughts. Every day Madge spends here, she grows more beautiful, freer with her words and laughter. I cannot help but compare my situation to hers. She is resurrected after being freed from the shackles of an unwanted marriage while I am facing my doom in entering one.

Other times, I pore over the letters that Effie and Haymitch have sent from town since I left them. Hers carry a bright enthusiasm as she details all the reactions to the altered announcement, the many visitors she has had and all of the well wishes for a happy marriage for me. She effuses repeatedly at how she so looks forward to my wedding. It rings so bright as to sound false to my eyes as I read. I know she cannot be happy at the idea of my binding myself to a bastard, nor at the turn of events after her own insistence that Sir Robert was clearly besotted with me.

Clearly he was not.

Haymitch’s letters carry a different sort of message entirely. Faced with the certainty of my upcoming vows to Mr. Peeta Mellark, Haymitch has embarked on a quest for knowledge, which I likely should have done rather than departing town in such haste. Haymitch writes of a different sort of courtship, one between a man and a father figure to the girl he wishes to marry. Haymitch writes accounts of Peeta’s conduct in my absence, their many conversations, and peppered in between anecdotes are more personal details that make it clear to me… Haymitch has hired a man to investigate my betrothed and discover his secrets.

I can find nothing to persuade me this match will be a disaster. His finances are sound. No debts, no disturbing addictions, no reports of uncontrolled temper, no mistresses even. My only complaint is that I was required to pay more attention whilst playing chess these past few weeks as your affianced is quite the strategist. No bourbon with a pleasant chess match in the evenings for me when Mr. Mellark sits across the board, unfortunately. I must have my wits about me or suffer pathetic losses. In fact, the only secret he seems to harbor is not much of a secret at all — the truth of his parentage — although I’ve not been able to ascertain the identity of his birth mother, so perhaps there is a secret there, but the basic nature of his parentage is common knowledge. Overall, he is most forthcoming with his life with the Mellark family when asked and my investigations confirm all of what he has told me. I recommend you ask him yourself at the first opportunity.

Katniss, my dear girl, I am endeavoring to say that you could do much worse where husbands are concerned. He is as distraught over the circumstances of your engagement as are you. In support of this, I have received several reports of discord in his father’s home that have led me to believe this engagement has cause a rift of sorts within the family. Be at ease and attempt to make the best of your situation. You set out to gain a fortune to support yourself and your sister. You have done that. Your betrothed is now nearly as wealthy as the rest of his clan, legitimately born or not. There is no need for you to cause more trouble. You and he have more in common that could unite you than you realise.

Tell my sister I shall see her soon, and tell your father he’s the devil to pay for what I’ve endured in his stead, if he ever wakes.

~ Uncle Haymitch.

Haymitch’s words annoy me at first reading, then strangely enough bring me marginal relief on second or third perusal. Perhaps my future is not so bleak as I’d imagined. Yet, it is not enough to prevent the final break in my composure.

A guest room is prepared for Peeta, but I also find myself tripping over servants and my mother in my own room two days before my betrothed is expected. The rook is in complete disarray, my belongings shoved into boxes and crates and set aside to allow room for the work being done.

“What is the meaning of this?” I ask and my mother leads me aside so that the maids may continue without her.

“I dare not move your father from his room in his health. Until other arrangements can be made, you and your husband will have to share your chambers for some time after the wedding. For now while we make the changes to your room, you can sleep with Madge.”

“I cannot share a room with him!” I gape at the bed where I so often felt safe and shall soon feel betrayed, and then at my mother as she scowls at me, opening her mouth to no doubt lecture me. I am saved by a servant with a query for her and flee the room before I am presented with any more reminders of the upheaval in my future.

This one is intensely personal. In all my time of bemoaning my fate and nursing my fury at Peeta for trapping me in this situation, I had not even considered the expectations that now loom over my body.

I escape to the woods. The world seems to shrink around me as I consider the ramifications of my actions and curse my own stubborn naïveté. Madge’s words about not wanting my marriage to be like hers rise up to taunt me.

I’ve no idea what Peeta will expect on our wedding night. Likely he will expect what all grooms assume as their rights. My body, my submission. Here I planned to say the vows and be done with it as soon as he arrived and now, confronted with the likely path of events for that choice, I find myself regretting it. We are still strangers, Peeta and I. Haymitch’s findings aside, I know so little of the man I am expected to spend my life with that I cannot fathom giving myself over to him in such an intimate way.

Except… Peeta himself expressed a wish to wait.

Time. Yes, time is what I need and if he is willing to grant it, I shall take it. At least a little time to better prepare myself.

Resolved, I am able to stand and manage to even hunt a little as well as set a few snares for smaller animals.

*************************

The changes wrought to my room over the next few days do little to assuage my concerns. If anything, they heighten them. New furniture has been added, and several of the furnishings as well as nearly all of the linens have been replaced. The light, airy, welcoming feel of my girlhood chambers has vanished on the fragrant summer breeze that enters through the window and sweeps away any innocence left in my mind. It is now the room of a married woman.

I escape to the woods as I always have, uncaring that I now risk missing entirely the arrival of my betrothed. Let him fumble with the introductions to my family and let them see what a brute and bastard he is, I fume, ignoring Haymitch’s analysis of Peeta’s character. What would my uncle know? He is a man and views Peeta’s character as a man would, not as a woman would.

I linger far too long in the woods, but excuse the lapse in my manners with the success of my hunt. We shall have an excellent dinner as shall the servants. They deserve it for all the hard work they’ve accomplished the past weeks, not only in preparing for our guests but also for their diligent care of my father.

“There’s a brace of rabbits and two ducks in the bag, Horatio. See them cleaned and to the kitchen?”

“Yes Miss.” I peel off my gloves and use my sleeve to wipe sweat from my brow. The week has turned blazing hot. No sign of rain in several days has me worried about several of the more delicate herbs we grow. “There is lemonade if you would like a glass. Countess and Miss Primrose have taken several to the verandah already to keep watch for our guests.”

“Thank you, Horatio.” I smile at the lad and help myself to a cup of the tart drink before walking slowly to the verandah. I am a mess at the moment, hair falling from what began as a careful braid, wrapped and pinned tightly to my scalp. Thick strands now stick to my neck, soaked in sweat. Dirt and blood grace the folds of my skirt and it is entirely possible that I have some on my face as well. I’ve perspired straight through the fabric and am certain it shows beneath my arms. I rub at my shoulder where an ache and an itch has settled, and pausing at the edge of the shaded stone area, smile at the sight that greets me.

Primrose and Maysilee play while Madge looks on, sipping her lemonade. Mary sits working diligently on some mending. All four of them wear smiles on their faces and laugh at Maysilee as she chatters on, twirling a flower in her pudgy toddler fingers and squealing about an insect that lands on the petals.

Content and happy. This is how I wish them to remain, without weighty cares. That is for me to bear, not them. This reminder of what is to be gained soothes the agitation I have felt the past few days as I watched the preparations for the arrival of Miss Everdeen’s betrothed. The servants, unaware of the circumstances of our engagement, have worked themselves into an excitement I cannot bear to contain nor hope to control. They are convinced it must be a great love match, given the speed with which it occurred. After all, my parents were a love match.

They believe my marriage will bring such a blessing on our household that will surely mean the turn of fortune for us all. Health for my father, a bountiful harvest. Would that I could promise them such a thing. I cannot, but the spark of hope already burns deep in their hearts. I do not wish to smother it.

“Oh! Look!” Prim exclaims and hurries to the low wall surrounding the verandah.

“What is it?” Madge asks.

“Dust in the lane! He’s here! Mary! Tell Katniss and Mother that he’s here!”

Mary scurries to put her mending away and curtsies as she passes by me, a wide smile on her face as my sister leans over the wall to catch a glimpse. I do not need one. I am already aware of what he looks like on a horse and make my way to the door instead.

Well I suppose there are worse things than greeting my fiance covered in dirt, sweat, and entrails. It is not like I am usually at my best when he sees me anyways.

“Oh, Katniss…should you change your dress or…freshen up a bit?” my mother asks as she meets me at the door. She eyes my appearance and seems appropriately scandalised. I lift my nose and glide outside the house to greet him.

“I think not.” He may as well be reminded first off of what sort of wife he’s getting. I shall not change for him.

Cicero comes to a plodding halt, and dips his head once, shaking his grey mane. If I expected them to dismount at the house, I was sorely mistaken.

“Miss Everdeen,” Peeta says with an incline of his head, and a small, ridiculous shiver runs through me as I curtsy. His mouth twitches and I cannot be certain if he’s laughing or frowning at me with his eyes obscured in the shadows created by his hat. I glare up at him and spit out my words.

“Welcome to Everdeen, Mr. Mellark. Won’t you dismount?”

“Momentarily.” He nods once then looks past me. “You must be Mrs. Everdeen.”

“Yes,” my mother steps forward and from the back of his horse, Peeta manages to take her hand in his. At some sort of silent command, Cicero bends his front legs in imitation of a bow. Peeta mirrors the motion, bending at his torso over my mother’s hand like some knight of old.

“An honour to meet you, madame. Peeta Mellark at your service.”

“Oh,” my mother says, her cheeks turning pink in a way that is not caused by heat nor by the sun. I grind my teeth together and step forward to end this nonsense.

“Will you not dismount and come inside?” I ask through clenched teeth.

“We will see to our horses first, if that is alright.” It is then that I notice Joe, astride his dark brown with an impertinent grin on his face as he tips his hat to me. My hands wish for a bow and a swift arrow, but I manage to nod in agreement and stand back as they depart for the stables.

“My goodness, he is a handsome one,” my mother breathes as they ride toward the stable, her eyes fixed on Peeta’s back. “He takes after Reginald in looks but his manner of speaking…there’s something different and yet so pleasant about it… Where did you say he was educated?”

“I don’t believe he has been. He’s not a legitimate son,” I say and my mother spins to gape at me. My cheeks heat and I glance down at the ground. “Everything went so wrong, Mama. I do not know what to do.”

“Oh Katniss. I do not think it has all gone wrong at all,” she says and then laughs, winding an arm around me and turning me back towards the house. “Whatever it is, it is certainly salvageable.”

“Then… you are not scandalised?”

“Absolutely not. Surprised, yes. Scandalised, I should think not. Your Peeta had no control over the manner of his birth. No choice in the matter at all. The only thing he has control over is what manner of man he is.” My mother leans back and cranes her neck, as though seeking another glimpse of him. She chuckles and turns back to me as a scowl takes over my face. “And thus far, he appears to be a fine man indeed. He could not take his eyes from you and did not even balk at your ghastly appearance.”

“He was perhaps wondering why he agreed to marry such a wretch. Or dare I hope he actually felt apprehension at my fearsome appearance,” I mutter and my mother laughs. The sound courses through me like sweet wine.

“No darling, I think not. He may take after Reginald in the shape and colour of his features, but that look in his eyes is not one his father ever displayed, to my knowledge.”

“You are imagining things where they do not exist,” I tell her sadly. I do not know why it is now that all of this spills from me as Mother walks with me up the stairs towards my room, not father’s. Perhaps I’ve held it in so long that it cannot be helped. Or perhaps I have indeed, truly missed my mother. She has seemed so absent recently, in her preoccupation first with my father and then with preparations for my wedding. “He only agreed to marry me to protect his brother from scandal.”

“You did not mention that,” Mother says and purses her lips as I scramble for words. She shakes her head and waves it away before I can manage to utter a single coherent syllable. “Perhaps that was one of his motivations, but men recover quite easily from scandal. It gives them an air of mystery and danger. They do not marry for such a small thing as that.” I stare at her and she gives me a secretive smile. “Unless I am a blind fool, protecting his brother was not his only motivation for agreeing to marry you, Katniss.”

I sputter and lay a hand over my stomach to control the writhing of nerves and feelings. Before I can work up a proper hysteria or denial at what her words might mean, before I can insist to her that he hates me, she speaks again.

“Where did his scars originate from?”

“I do not know exactly. He spent some time in the infantry.”

“Hmmm, that is likely the source. Does he know of yours, darling?”

“I…no,” I admit and duck my head to hide my expression. “I never found occasion nor reason to tell him.”

Unless Robert told him or… or perhaps Peeta spoke the truth and it was him at the masquerade. But that is such a quagmire in my head still that I am not ready to speak of it with anyone. I still have not even told Madge of Peeta’s preposterous claim.

“No matter. I doubt it shall bother him at all.”

I think back on our last conversation, on his insistence that it was he at the masquerade, the soft touch of his fingers between mine and the warmth that even now seeps into my blood at the memory of touch, how he wanted to speak with me alone before we signed the contracts, and even what Madge said about how viewing it as the past, she thinks that Peeta showed more interest in me than Robert. And how I once again find myself in a position of knowing little to nothing about the man I am to marry, only this time, there will be no masquerade to loosen our guard.

I nod to my mother despite my lingering doubts and enjoy her soft smile as she kisses my cheek.

“Though you may wish to tell him before the wedding night. Now, change and wash your face, attempt some order with that hair, and I will see our guests settled in time for tea.” I watch her a moment as she departs, humming slightly to herself and I wonder at the change in her.

************************

I send word for Peeta to join me in the study once he has had time to freshen up from his travels then abscond to the room I have been sharing with Madge that I might do the same. When I am ready to face the coming battle, I march to the study only to find him already there and waiting for me. I stand in the doorway and watch him, hands folded behind his back as he wanders down the line of shelves heavy with books. He pauses at one title and tilts his head. I gather my skirts and interrupt before he takes on some fool notion that all of this shall be his.

“Mr. Mellark, I trust your journey was pleasant.”

“Quite,” he answers and turns to face me as I move to put the large, imposing desk between us. We’ve not been alone since that day in the gardens, when he made his preposterous claim in regards to the masquerade. I feel as though I have lived a thousand years since then and do not wish to lose my wits for what I am about to say.

“We have matters to discuss,” I say as he comes to stand on the other side of the desk. I lift my chin, pleased with this arrangement, the reminder to him that he is a guest here, and not a wholly welcome guest.

“Shall we skip the idle chit chat then?”

“I think that the best course.”

“By all means then, Miss Everdeen, cut to the heart and let us be done with it. You’ve already made it quite clear you do not wish to marry me, so no need to repeat that.”

“You are a stranger to me yet, Mr. Mellark.”

“Not as much of a stranger as you think.”

“So you still hold to that ridiculous claim?”

“Why is it so ridiculous?”

“Ridiculous or not, it means that I cannot trust you. You have already lied to me at least once.” At this, he has the dignity to hang his head.

“Indeed I have no defense for that other than it was done in protection of someone I care for deeply.”

“What am I to believe, Mr. Mellark? If it was in fact you behind that mask, then how much of what you said was in the name of the act? How much of it was you pretending to be Sir Robert and how much of it was truth–”

“I did not speak a single lie that night at the masquerade,” he says and lifts his eyes to mine. They flash with a warmth and near anger that nearly overwhelms me. I stagger back a step and then regroup. “I attempted to emulate my brother and failed horribly. The only falsehood in it was in allowing you to believe that I was Robert, not myself.”

“It does not matter,” I insist. “What matters is that if it was you, you knowingly and purposely deceived me that night, and if it was not you, you outright lie in trying to claim it was. To what purpose, I cannot fathom, but either way, you have deceived me and therefore, I cannot trust you.”

“And what of you, madame? Can you swear that all of your actions in regards to my brother were honest?”

“That is none of your concern. It is between Sir Robert and myself.”

“I think it is of my concern seeing as how I am now the one who will be speaking vows with you.”

“We are clearly not going to agree on this matter.” I sit in the chair and stubbornly pull papers in front of me, hot fury boiling inside me at his insinuations that I somehow misled Robert. He knew precisely what sort of marriage I expected. I played no games with his heart.

Except that I went to that masquerade with intentions to kiss him…or court him in a way, and he eloped after. I rub my temples and sigh, unsure of myself and how to handle this tricky matter. Peeta echoes the sound and sits opposite me, his hand rubbing his left thigh as if it pains him.

“You are quite right, Miss Everdeen.”

“Am I?” I ask with a soft snort.

“I set out to protect Robert and yet my motivations became…confused and entangled along the road. I cannot remove the deceptions that already exist between us nor erase any hurt I may have caused you in the process. I can only hope to prove to you through time and devotion that I am worthy of your trust.” His words stun me and our eyes lock. His seem so sad and sincere, almost pleading. “We are to be married, whether you and I wish it or not at this point. I do not wish to spend our lives locked in eternal combat over this or any matter.”

“Then what do you propose?”

“If we could…acknowledge what has happened yet not linger on it then perhaps we could build a sort of alliance.”

“An alliance,” I test out the word and lean towards him, the wood of the desk pressing into my chest. “How would this alliance proceed, Mr. Mellark?”

“You’ve need of funds, I assume to keep Everdeen flourishing and to care for your father. You’ve also need of security in the event of his passing. Your mother, your sister, the countess and her charming daughter – all people who rely on you for a home that I assume will be snatched from beneath your feet upon his death. I can provide both of those.”

My cheeks flame and I nod. “Have you an estate that we might call home?”

“I do not,” he says and gives me a strange sort of smile. “The Marquis had no qualms providing me with funds and a commission, but lands are the inheritance of a gentleman. Not his bastard son.”

I manage not to cringe at his speech nor think of the uncharitable thoughts I have prescribed to him given his birth. Pity for him will not do. I need to establish the path forward first.

“The money should be enough to buy us some time,” he offers.

Us. The word hangs in the air between us, an invitation to an accord.

“Miss Everdeen, I have spent my days in a household of an unhappy marriage where the husband and wife are at constant odds. It is…toxic to growth and difficult for everyone around them. Never knowing what is acceptable to one party or the other when sometimes the husband makes decisions merely for the sake of angering the wife and vice versa. I do not wish to continue in such a home after our marriage, and I imagine that you do not either.”

I hesitate in answering, although I already know he speaks the truth. Did I not just think this morning on how happy and carefree my sister and Madge appeared, how I longed to maintain that for them? I cannot do that if I am constantly at war with my own husband, regardless of how our engagement came to be. I nod once and he smiles.

“I knew you were not so cruel,” he says, soft and warm as my cheeks heat inexplicably. “You care far too much for their well being for that.”

At this he nods towards the windows which overlook the garden. A timely laugh reaches my ears to solidify our understanding of one another.

“I will not bow to your dictates on how to run Everdeen,” I say, searching for firm footing in this strange new land.

“I would not ask you to. I have no expertise on the running of an estate. That was not a future I was educated for, although I would like to change that to a degree. I wish to help, to be an asset and an active participate in this alliance, not a burden. And I cannot stand the thought of being idle.”

I tilt my head and wonder at the concessions he makes so easily. “How long did you wish to wait to say the vows?”

“However long you wish to wait. I would take months to court you properly, if you would grant them to me.” The heat spreads from my cheeks down my neck. “I sense however, that while you might have doubts about an immediate union, your father’s health dictates some haste.”

“Perhaps a week then,” I offer and he nods once. I stand and he rises to bow. Despite the lies still between us, it is the first real flicker of hope that I feel sparking to life in my breast. “In the meantime, perhaps you should acquaint yourself with your future home.”

“Nothing would give me more pleasure.” A small shiver runs down my spine and I scowl slightly. It would not do for me to fall ill at such a time as this. I shall need to speak to Mrs. Chilton about the temperatures in the house.

************************

I have heard rumors of life in the city providing many diversions. A life full of social engagements, parties and teas. If it is anything like the month I spent in Capitol, then I can do well enough without it. I much prefer the sort of busy life of the country. There is always work to be done. Crops to tend and harvest, fields to prepare, livestock to see to, cheeses to be made from milk, herbs to be dried, and so much more. Everdeen produces a wide range of herbal remedies for everything from a cough to dry, papery skin. It is a year round occupation of growing, reaping and sowing, processing, packaging and selling. There isn’t a day that passes without some sort of task needing to be done.

And sometimes, when the work is done early, there is time for enjoyment and socialising. A wedding is nothing if not fodder for the gossips, a reason for local gentry to roll up their carpets, sweep their floors, tune their pianos, slaughter meats to be roasted, and invite a host of guests. Peeta’s arrival at Everdeen provides the excuse and an invitation arrives over tea from Mrs. Thompson, whose family of two daughters and two sons lives but a half an hour ride from Everdeen.

“Oh but you must attend our dinner tonight!” She insists and my mother heartily agrees, pausing only to ask my assurance that Peeta is not too tired from his journey to attend.

“He has had a day of rest,” I say, although I would rather decline. I can tell that my mother will not refuse, and it has been so long since she has left the house that I cannot pass on this opportunity. Peeta will simply have to bear it whether he wishes to or not.

“Splendid! I am happy to hear as our cook already began roasting the lamb before I left.”

The remainder of the day is lost in preparations for the dinner we are to attend. Madge fusses over my appearance as I try to wave her off.

“This is not the Capitol. No one will care how I look.”

“It is your first public appearance with Peeta as your betrothed,” she insists. “You will be marry in a week, which will seem quite hasty to some. The gossips will be relentless.”

I wish to ask why I should care what the gossips think, but Primrose wanders in then and squeals over my dress, spinning romantic fantasies that have us all shaking our heads and laughing. Hope blossoms from her eyes and her words, and I cannot bring myself to destroy the seedlings.

Peeta was correct on one thing. I cannot bear to force my family to live in a house full of strife. I will find a way to make this marriage to him work, if only for the sake of their happiness.

It is a strange sort of mood as we ride in the carriage to the Thompson estate. Peeta exits first and assists each of us out. I am last to exit the carriage and his grip on my hand tightens for a moment, halting my steps.

“They will ask questions. How much are we to reveal?”

“I…Not the truth,” I say, sounding scandalised and breathless even to my ears. He smiles slightly and his thumb caresses over my knuckles.

“Perhaps a version of the truth then, omitting your brief engagement to Robert?”

“Yes,” I manage to agree.

Dinner proceeds as expected. Everyone wishes to hear the story of how Peeta and I met. Astonishingly, I remain silent for most of it. Peeta captures their attention from the start, spinning a tale of a young woman bravely filling her father’s shoes and unfortunately running into a mishap with her horse and some mud. He omits the examination of my ankle, much to my relief, and simplifies the story enough to explain without revealing intimate details. Our reunion in Capitol he depicts as happy circumstance, not the result of my pursuing his brother, and tidily wraps it up after that by changing the subject to divert attention away from us.

I am congratulated and praised for such a fine match. He steals their hearts in a matter of minutes and I cannot help but be a little annoyed yet simultaneously in awe.

No one mentions that while Peeta’s father is a Marquis, his mother is an unknown, and I wonder how many of them know the truth regarding that.

After dinner, the music begins. Prim is swept into dances, and a young man braves asking Madge to partner for a set. My mother engages with several friends she has barely seen the past months since my father’s accident. As much as I wish for my father’s recovery, this small scene assures me somehow. The joy is contagious and I soon find myself smiling and bouncing in time to the tune. Beside me, Peeta stands stoic and I cannot resist the temptation to tease him.

“Mr. Mellark!” He bends down to hear me over the ruckus. “I am still owed a dance!” His reaction is slow as he stands slightly and seems to be struggling with something. “Or do you find me a repulsive partner?”

“Never, madame,” he says.

“Then you have something against dancing with your fiance? The gossips will have quite a bit of fun with that tidbit,” I say. Irritation at his hesitance threatens to shift to real anger.

He glances over the dancers before giving me a look full of sadness and apology. “Please believe that this has nothing to do with you, Miss Everdeen.”

“I do not understand, Mr. Mellark.”

He takes my hand in his and before I can protest, leads me away from the dancing, out into the darkened hall, turning to speak to me. “You are not the only one left marked and disfigured by life, Miss Everdeen.”

I nearly run from the hall at the reminder of what I told him – or Robert – that night. And of what followed. The memory of lips on my skin and the scent of night blossoms heavy and seductive around me threatens to plunge me into a depth I am not sure I can escape, but the questions in his eyes hold me captive and grounded long enough to ask him one thing.

“You wear yours on your face. How does that prevent you from dancing?”

“Those are not the only ones. I have a false leg, Miss Everdeen.”

“Pardon?”

“Kick my left shin.”

“What?”

“See for yourself, unless you’d rather I remove my trousers?” he says, a teasing smile lifting one corner of his lips. A furious blush takes over and I lift my foot into his left shin, only to encounter something far too solid to be a flesh and bone leg. My eyes leap to his as a strange echo fills my ears. “Now you know. I would embarrass you far more by dancing with you than I ever could by not dancing with you.”

Before I can form a proper response, he takes my hand in his, kisses it, and then vanishes. I’m left with my head spinning and a thousand questions burning in my mind. How did he lose his leg? How on earth has he managed to appear as though he is still intact? It explains so much – the limp, the slow methodical motions, even why he did not dismount that day in the rain or at the stairs to Everdeen yesterday morning. How then would he get back on his horse?

I lean back on the wall and laugh, only just keeping the sound from veering into the realm of hysterical as I realise… There is far more to the man I am about to marry than I could have imagined.

To be continued…

************************

Dear Readers,

The 2019 Everlark Fic Exchange has ended and despite my best efforts, I was unable to bring this story to a close in time. Given how much work the lovely @javistg and @xerxia31 put into this event every year, I cannot ask them to continue formatting and posting my anonymous submissions. I’d like to make it more simple for them. However, I would also like to finish this story as an anonymous writer. Therefore, I am asking for your help. If you are willing, please comment on or reblog this chapter with a note that you would welcome receiving one or two future chapters into your inbox and posting them on your blog. More than one volunteer is welcome to spread the task around the fandom.

Before you volunteer, I require a few small things. You must have your blog settings configured to accept anonymous submissions and be willing to make sure each chapter is appropriately tagged similar to how EFE tags their submissions. This will make it easier for other readers to follow and for EFE to keep track of chapters as they are posted. Also, you must be able to add in a Read More. No one likes to scroll past an endlessly long text post. These are both things usually best done from the website, not the mobile app which sometimes messes with formatting. I think it goes without sayng that you will not, under any circumstances, alter the story I submit to you, regardless of how you feel about it. Finally, should you figure out my identity somehow, I ask that you keep it a secret.

Thank you all for reading and for commenting. I hope you enjoy the remainder of the story.

~~ M ~~

[girl-in-the-tower]

for the OC meme thingger! Please do Compass, Parachute, and Microscope!

Thank you so much! I love your Yoru, by the way!!  o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o

(Sorry, forgot to tag you! @bakujho)

compass: who’s the moral compass? in general: what are your OCs’ morality like? do they have high morals, or not? are their morals self imposed, or do they base their morals on religion/family/influence of others?

Kore is definitely the most moral, as she tends to object to some of the more malicious plans the first years come up with. That is unless she feels like it’s necessary or for the ‘greater good’ then she’ll most likely become involved as well. It’s somewhat hard to say whether she has high morals or not, because she tends to follow her own rules and is not always aware of what is or isn’t proper in society. This is pretty much because her own sense of morality was heavily influenced by Theo, who tends to have a very unorthodox approach to life. Nevertheless, this has started to change as Kore has entered NRC and has come into contact with more influences.

Theo is however a rebel through and through, so he tends to be quite amoral. He cares more about how things affect him rather than another person, so he could be said to lack any morality at time. This is somewhat tempered by Kore, who acts as a moral compass towards him and always loudly protests whenever she feels like he does something that would be hurtful. She might not always be correct in her thinking process, but Theo respects her opinion enough to stop and take notice. His morals are self-imposed because he makes a conscious effort to reject the morals imposed upon him by him family.

parachute: who does your OC(s) trust the most? who makes them feel safe? who would they do absolutely anything for?

I think that Kore and Theo are the person the other trusts the most in the world. It’s an unspoken feeling between the two of them, as neither feels the need to affirm it out loud. For Theo it’s about knowing that his daughter will accept him no matter what and won’t reject him even if he sometimes messes up as a parent. He cares about her deeply but expressing his feelings is difficult for him, so he shows his love through his actions.

For Kore it’s about having someone treat you like an equal and taking into account your opinions and needs. More than parent and child, she and Theo are a team that need each other in order to become a better person. However, things have changed since she came to NRC and she has started to learn how to allow others in her previously very small world. Grim and the first years have become very important people for her and she considers them family at this point. The same goes for some of the upperclassmen too, like Riddle, Trey, Cater, Leona and Rook, who she thinks of as big brothers. 

Finally, another important person is her life would be Kalim, because he has started to feel like home to her, even though they come from such different backgrounds.   

microscope: zoom in – describe the little, insignificant details about an OC.

It’s not immediately obvious, but Kore’s nails are always cut extremely short and people have yet to see her paint them. They are well taken care of, but because she spends a lot of time gardening and working with her hands she sees no point in making them look pretty. She has a small scar on her left knee because she cut her leg very badly when she was younger. Her body temperature always seems to be very low, though she herself seems unaware of this. She tugs on her sleeves when she is anxious about something and scratches the back of her hand when she tries to lie. She has very neat handwriting, but tends to make her ‘m’s too curly.

Theo’s right wrist is always smudged by ink. His handwriting in atrocious and so tiny that you can barely read it. While working at his desk he tends to tap his index finger whenever he is trying to figure something out. He has perfect table etiquette. He always check his left breast pocket when he is looking for his cigarettes, despite the fact that he always puts them in the right pocket of his coat. He dislikes cold coffee, but drinks it anyway. When he lies the right corner of his mouth turns upwards slightly. When he’s angry at someone he tends to look to the left before speaking to them.  

[kiruuuuu]

I can’t put into words how pleased and flattered I am whenever people notice things in my writing and then even let me know. You got it almost right, anon! ❤❤ I was craving early Protection Mountain and so I wrote two snippets to set up said photos for later - but since I deem both parts too short to post by themselves, I’ll post them together. They’re set at different times but it should become clear from the snippets themselves. (1st: Rating T, hurt/comfort, ~1k words, 2nd: Rating M, sorta explicit, ~1.7k words)

Warning: the second part is technically dubcon since Monty’s sleeping but as the author I can assure everyone that he wouldn’t have a problem with any of it and there’s not much being done to him. If it’s not your cup of tea though, please don’t read it!

The other parts of Protection Mountain can be found via tags or here on my Masterpost! (Mobile version here)

.

It’s dumb. It’s just an arm. Not only that, it’s a fucking cliché gesture, overdone and cheesy and would usually make him roll his eyes if he saw it on screen and produce gagging noises if he saw it in real life. One of the oldest ways to show possessiveness, always leaving an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth whenever anyone just assumed they could put an arm around his shoulders, even more so when his superiors did it. It was rare but it happened and he felt like shaking himself like a dog afterwards, just to get rid of this I own you feeling.

And yet, here he sits, Montagne’s arm around him, and has vowed to never move again. They’re watching some film or other, something stupid and filled with action he’s not following because he’s too busy having an internal crisis over the limb draped over him, weighing him down slightly, giving off a reassuring warmth. It shouldn’t feel this elating and yet it does, funnels all his attention towards the fingers he feels curled around his upper arm even through the blanket in which he’s wrapped. The thumb is stroking up and down, a soothing motion though it does nothing to calm Bandit’s nerves. Nothing at all.

His back is killing him, he really needs to adjust his position but worries the arm will disappear if he moves despite knowing it’s not the first time they’ve sat like this. Despite knowing Montagne usually subtly invites him in. They barely talk and this, too, makes him anxious – he has absolutely no idea what’s going on in the Frenchman’s head, whether he thinks he’s doing Bandit a favour or whether he’s taking pity on him. Maybe he doesn’t even like him. It’s a realistic possibility, they don’t really have anything in common, don’t hang out unless Bandit would otherwise spend the evening alone, and when they do they don’t communicate a lot. Montagne sometimes tries, and a few times they’ve had actual conversations, but that doesn’t mean anything, does it? He just doesn’t understand why Montagne is still here, allows him to steal his warmth, when all he does is – nothing, basically, he does nothing for him, he doesn’t deserve this warmth, doesn’t deserve the peace this man brings, the inexplicable shows of affection – because you don’t just sit on a couch and cuddle with someone you don’t like, right? That’s not something people do, nothing Bandit could ever imagine doing, and yet the doubt persists and burns under his fingernails, permeates his brain at the most inopportune moments, moments in which he’s vulnerable already, open for attack by his own thoughts turning on him -

The hand lifts, comes to rest on the side of his head, right behind his ear, fingers gently stroking through his hair, over his scalp. A shiver runs down his spine from the distracted gesture; it’s so comforting that his mind comes to a grinding halt, stops right then and there to assess the situation. Now’s not the time to fret, instead he should enjoy it while it lasts, accept the lovely gesture for what it is and not second guess Montagne’s motives. He gives in and puts his head on Montagne’s shoulder. The hand follows, cards through his hair, grounds him.

“Are you comfortable?”, Montagne murmurs after a few minutes.

Bandit just nods. He knows better than to put into words just how comfortable he really is, and instead merely adjusts his position so his back isn’t killing him anymore, melts against Montagne’s side and closes his eyes when the arm is put around him: once again, a reassuring weight. Time to continue not watching this film.

.

When Bandit wakes up the next time, he’s encased in an embrace he didn’t anticipate. It takes him a few moments to figure out just what happened and how they’re arranged on the sofa until he realises Montagne is lying down, legs outstretched, and Bandit largely on top of him, back warmed by the Frenchman’s broad chest, torso hugged tightly and calm breaths tickling his hair. It seems the other man is still asleep, his regular breathing gently making Bandit rise and sink, and so he snuggles into the hug, rubs the top of his head on Montagne’s jaw, extracts one of his hands from the blanket in which he’s wrapped to stroke over Montagne’s upper arm. He’ll have to leave soon, he definitely doesn’t want Montagne to wake up like this, but he’s so warm.

It’s a mystery to him how Montagne unfailingly radiates heat as if it took no effort – the man really is an oven. Not only that, he seems to have no trouble in letting Bandit sleep on him though this implies a whole range of things Bandit is absolutely not ready to face yet. For now, he has to flee and hope no one saw -

A small noise makes his eyes fly open. He probably looks just as shocked as Rook who’s standing a few metres away and apparently froze mid-chew upon spotting the two people on the couch. For a while, neither of them moves a muscle.

“I saw nothing”, Rook then whispers, turns around on his heel and leaves without any further complications.

Okay. He really should – this needs to stop. It was the first night he slept in Montagne’s arms and he’ll make sure it’ll be the last one, too, he can’t keep doing this. He’s starting to rely on someone else and that is in no way acceptable, not when he already can’t rely on himself. It’s a burden he doesn’t want anyone else to shoulder, least this man who would probably bear anyone’s weight if they asked. No. He won’t add to it.

Carefully, he wiggles out of the tight hug and is about to throw his blanket over the large figure when he pauses. He’s seen Montagne sleep before, once or twice, but never at dawn, never bathed in golden sunlight and without worries, face smooth. On a whim, he picks up his phone from the table and takes a photo. Then he leaves.

When Blitz asks him about his red cheeks a minute later, Bandit tells him to shut up.

.

~*~

.

At this point, it’s moved long past worrying into the territory of genuinely concerning. There’s a lot of things about Montagne which frighten him, partly his urge to lay claim to him in whichever way possible, partly how deceptively easy his company is, partly the ever-present fear of losing him one way or another. He’s gotten attached and can’t deny it, but none of this is on Bandit’s mind right now, not now. Not when he’s got a half naked Montagne to admire.

What concerns him is the fact that a single kiss by this gorgeous God in front of him reduces him to a drooling mess already. It doesn’t matter what he does, he’s tried jerking off before they sleep in the same bed but all it achieved was to strengthen the desire for physical proximity, in turn prompting Montagne to be even more affectionate than usual and Bandit still ended up with a hard-on. He’s counted sheep, thought of the most revolting things yet Montagne easily penetrates his concentration by humming into his ear or, worse, spooning him, or, even worse, letting Bandit spoon him. He’s spent a few hours total with Montagne’s perfectly sculpted ass pressed against his crotch, quietly panting against this breathtaking back of his and holding on to his shapely hipbone while frantically trying not to hump him or wake him up or really just come in his underwear right then and there.

This morning seems adamant on testing his patience as well. The sun is just rising and allowing him an unobstructed view of the beauty that is Montagne, stretched out on the bed before him and blissfully sleeping despite the fact Bandit must’ve stolen the blanket some time during the night. This little detail is what allows him to marvel at perfection itself, take in the long limbs, dusting of hairs on his chest, strong muscles. If he looks closer, he can see his regular heartbeat. It hurts looking at him because Bandit now fully knows what he can’t have yet, what Montagne hasn’t graced him with. He’s received a few hand jobs so far and it pains him to call it that, it felt more like a revelation, Montagne attentive and thorough, learning quickly and reducing Bandit to a shuddering heap of want in minutes.

His prize is hidden in black briefs and it attracts his gaze like a magnet. He woke up with a boner and decided against taking care of it for exactly as long as he hadn’t yet turned around to examine the person with whom he’s sharing a bed. Now, he’s sitting upright, his own underwear pushed down and one hand lazily wandering up and down his hard shaft as he struggles with himself. He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t and Montagne would be disappointed if he did and Bandit would probably also disappointed in himself but – it’s right there and it looks fucking big flaccid already and dear Lord he vividly remembers all the times he felt it against his body, not allowed to touch it.

It calls to him. With a muffled gasp, he picks up speed and prays that Montagne is as slow to wake today as he is usually. He has mornings on which he rises early and easily though they’re exceedingly rare, normally he inhales deeply, stretches his limbs and buries his head further in his pillow before he even opens his eyes. It should be enough of a warning to not get caught. Unless his hand is down Montagne’s underwear. He supposes there’s no way he can talk his way out of that one.

Maybe there’s a compromise in there somewhere. Hesitantly, he reaches out and touches his palm to it, moulds his hand around it to get a better feel and fuck, the flesh is hot and really as big as it looked and his breath hitches. This is bad. This is really bad. He needs to stop.

The head is thick already and merely imagining taking it robs him of the ability to form coherent thoughts. A quick glance, a complete stop in movement – no, Montagne is still sleeping, suspecting nothing, not reacting to the fact he’s being fondled. Bandit grows bolder, knowing full well he should be doing the opposite instead, and hooks his fingers into the waistband.

He’s going too far. It doesn’t matter that their job sometimes requires them to undress in front of each other, has had him cut open other people’s clothing several times and he probably has seen Montagne naked at some point. Still, it’s all irrelevant because it was an entirely different setting, there was nothing erotic about it, it wasn’t about being intimate with each other. It wasn’t breaking someone’s trust. His grip around his own dick tightens involuntarily. Then again, Montagne has seen him butt naked.

Carefully, he pulls the fabric down and forces himself to complete the task of hooking it under Montagne’s balls before he allows himself to take a good look. And Jesus fucking Christ. He clenches his teeth and has to convince his fist to slow down or else he’s going to come on the spot. It’s… large, first of all, yes, but even if not Bandit would call it pretty. His insides twist in an oddly pleasant way as he fantasises about swallowing it whole while smiling up at Montagne, and he can’t help but run his fingers through the dark curls. He has no preference when it comes to that, though he’s noticed shaving usually makes the cock look bigger – in Montagne’s case he assumes it won’t make a difference.

It’s beckoning him. It’d be so easy to just grab and work it gently until it starts filling with blood and swelling (though Montagne is probably a shower because holy hell) and maybe Montagne won’t be able to resist once he wakes up, so it’s possible Bandit will finally get to sit on this beautiful piece of flesh and oh God the thought alone makes him sweat. He bites his lip and cautiously begins peeling the foreskin back, exposing the head and rendering a few veins more visible, and when it twitches against his fingers, he comes without warning.

His climax takes him completely by surprise but the small jump was apparently too fucking hot for him and so he starts spurting semen accompanied by suppressed gasps, trying to be as quiet as possible while the contractions in his lower abs make him tremble and wash over him in waves of pleasure. It’s short-lived, however, because even in his immediate post-orgasmic haze, he notices one big fucking problem.

He came all over Montagne’s belly.

Panting softly, he eyes the mess with rising panic, unsure how to proceed. Another, now noticeably more scared as well as guilty glance reassures him that alright, at least he’s still asleep and hopefully will never know Bandit jerked off to his basically unconscious body because he can imagine that might be a deal breaker. It might actually be one.

And yet, there’s an entirely different urge present as well, insane and thus fitting well to the rest of his actions so far. Montagne looks stunning like this, ripe for the taking, the white drops exceedingly pretty on his skin and – he just has to. He has to.

He’s quick about it, immediately moves the photo to a folder inside a folder inside another folder, hoping Mute won’t hack into his phone any time soon or if he does, at least not dig this deeply, and hastily puts the phone back onto the bedside table. That still doesn’t solve his problem, however. He imagines wiping him off might actually wake him, the necessary friction of tissue on skin too much even for a heavy sleeper like him. He cleans himself, tucks both of them back in and then does the only thing he can think of to get rid of the evidence.

At first he’s careful not to touch Montagne’s warm skin with his lips and tries to soundlessly suck the viscous liquid in, but some of it ran down Montagne’s side and he has no other choice than to resort to properly licking it away. It doesn’t help that it spattered all over him.

And then Montagne does a deep inhale and Bandit panics. As quickly as possible, he licks up the drops he hasn’t gotten to yet, masking his actions as wet kisses, now at least not needing to be quiet. He finishes with a swirl through Montagne’s navel right as he stretches and gives his abdomen a cursory wipe to ensure he hasn’t missed anything, pretending he’s merely stroking over his skin in affection.

“Good morning”, Montagne slurs, still sleep-drunk, and rubs his eyes, as of now totally and completely oblivious of the disaster which unfolded mere seconds ago. “That’s a nice way to be woken up, you know.”

Bandit wants to scream. “Yeah”, he replies as casually as he can, “I couldn’t sleep anymore and you were there.” To support his alibi of simply wanting to rouse Montagne with his quick kisses and licks, he peppers his chest with a few more when a hand attempts to gently pull him towards Montagne and fucking hell if they make out now, there’s no way he won’t be able to taste the come on Bandit’s tongue. “Wait, I, uh, need to pee. I’ll be right back.” He ducks out of the soft grasp and jumps off the bed.

“Everything alright?”, Montagne wants to know and great, now he’s worried, probably thinks Bandit dreamt badly when all he did was to -

“Peachy”, he responds without looking back and, once he’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hides his burning cheeks in his hands for a solid ten seconds before he can even consider looking himself in the eye. Cool water on his hot face helps fight down the mortification and he even remembers to wash his mouth. “This stays between us, understood?”, he addresses his mirror image quietly before daring to step back out of the bathroom.

Sinking into Montagne’s arms helps as it always does, yet it’s also an odd comfort to know that he not only got away with it but also has visual proof for the future. He’s probably going to make use of that photo during lonely nights.

[kariachi]

Another commission! This time over 11k of Martin Mystery/Ben 10 crossover for @thenixkat.

A young man walks calmly through the forest. It’s been a nice afternoon, so far- hot and muggy with little cloud cover to prevent the summer sun from streaming through the trees. There’s a notable lack of birdsong, and just a quarter mile down the path he’d found a crow lying on the concrete, but he’s not worried. It’d winged off as soon as he nudged it with his shoe. Anyway, birds were supposed to call when predators were around, and if something was wrong in the park surely an alert would’ve been put out by now. It’s too nice of a day to waste time worrying over nothing.

Something glints in the sunlight, off to the side of a curve in the path near a large outcropping of rock and the man’s curiosity gets the better of him. A glass bottle maybe? Some loser littering out here, ruining things for the wildlife and the guests? He comes closer, hand resting on the stone, focused on the shining object. Yes, definitely a loser, but not as much a loser as him. After all, anyone littering here probably has a job, an education, a lover, isn’t living in their parents’ basement like he is. They’ve never ruined everything for everybody, but he has, hasn’t he? Just one failure after another starting with being born at all, such a waste….

He’s so caught in his own head, he doesn’t even see the teeth.

~~

“-but of course the police don’t believe them, because what civilian cop is going to believe the person in the house you were breaking into was murdered by donuts-”

“Hey guys!”

“Oh thank God.” Diana just about collapsed with relief right on the moving walkway at their alien friend’s timely arrival. Martin had been talking about this movie for two days and now that he’d realized she wasn’t going to watch it with him he’d decided to just recap the entire fucking thing. “Hi Billy.”

“Hi Billy.”

“Hey Billy!” The grin on Martin’s face could not be removed, only turned to new victims. “I was just telling Diana about this new movie that came out- Attack of the Killer Donuts.”

“Ooo,” Billy grinned back, “sounds interesting.”

“It is! It’s got almost all the classic B-horror tropes! I’ll stream it for you after we get back from this mission.”

“Speaking of which,” Diana interrupted before her only shot at a moment without breakfast foods as a main topic vanished into the ether (Java wasn’t helping, he’d given up and watched the film within the first two hours and was now on Martin’s side, the traitor), “any idea what we’re getting into?”

“MOM’s got the details,” the alien said, “but I do know Osmosians are involved, so I printed off these pamphlets.” As he spoke he distributed the pieces of paper. The whole team’s brows raised as one at the first item listed. ‘Bring food.’ “Security Chief Jones was involved in their original production, so you can trust the information to be accurate.”

“Uh, thanks, Billy.” They were all still focused on the pamphlets, reading through the surprisingly short list of safety tips. They mostly seemed to boil down to ‘don’t let them get hungry’ and ‘don’t piss them off’.

“Don’t worry, Eva says they’re really nice people.”

~~

For once MOM didn’t appear to have some experiment going, no guests hanging around, and Martin was visibly thrown off by it. Instead she was checking three backpacks stuffed to the brim with gear, from water canteens hanging off the sides to what were probably area maps and what looked like way too much food.

“Jones not kidding,” Java said as they watched her shift things in one of the packs so another Ziploc of trail mix could be fit inside.

“Hi MOM,” Martin then said, coming forward with a grin and snatching up one of the packs, hefting it over his shoulder. “What sort’ve mission have we got today? Saharan zombies? Jungle werewolves?” MOM just raised a brow, zipping the pack she’d been fiddling with shut and circling her desk to take a seat.

“Not quite, Martin.” She picked a folder up off the desk and handed it to Diana as she and Java joined them. “You’ll be investigating a series of missing persons cases at Star Ridge State Park in the eastern United States.” The boys peered over Diana’s shoulders as she flipped through the folder, grabbing packs for herself and Java with her tail. Inside were numerous police reports describing the disappearances of nine people, including photos of the missing. A pair of girls no older than her and Martin. A man in his mid-twenties. Middle-aged, elderly, children, there didn’t seem to be any pattern to the missing.

Only one particularly stood out, and the team all glanced at each other when they got to them. The photo showed an adult, they supposed, with short antlers, a muzzle, and tufted tail. Their skin was thick and tawny brown, covered in scutes, and they had teeth like something out of the Ice Age. One eye, the left, was marred with scarring and left a milky pink.

“I take it this is why Billy was talking about Osmosians?” Diana asked, and MOM nodded.

“The park contains a large pack,” she said, “and a good portion of it is their territory. You’ll have to be careful and respectful when inside, Martin.”

“Hey!”

“Osmosians do not suffer disrespect well, especially not established packs. They and the local tribe have happily agreed to work with us, so don’t make either one regret it.” Her tone turned sharp on the last portion, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Of course,” Diana said, and Java nodded beside her. MOM just hummed back at them.

“The pack has called in a team themselves,” she continued, “you’ll be meeting them at the Greenwich Entrance.”

“Wait,” Martin said as she opened the door out, “why would they call in someone else if we’re already coming?”

“It’s an Ossy thing.”

“Is even in pamphlet,” Java said, holding his own copy up, and he was right.

#9. It’s an Ossy thing, roll with it.

~~

The trip in was uneventful, and mostly consisted of Martin trying to work out what sort’ve paranormal mess they were walking into and Diana- who at this point wasn’t even going to argue about the paranormal with him, he was right over half the time and she just ended up listening to him gloat about it- trying to make him drive like a person who knew how. Meanwhile Java appeared to have tuned them both out about an hour ago, pulling out a novel and burying himself in that for most of the drive.

Entering the park revealed a lovely sight. Everything was in full bloom- green vines with trumpet-shaped pink-orange flowers creeping high on the red brick archway that marked the entrance, native flowers a mass of color beneath the entrance sign. Trees all various shades of rich greens. Bees buzzed, butterflies fluttered, and in pride of place sat a large fountain topped with a sculpture of a doe and fawns.

Two people who were probably human stood at the base of the fountain, a distinction made because most of the people they were watching off to the side very much weren’t. One was, an elderly man with dark skin, but out of the other three one was clearly an Osmosian, like the victim they had the photo of, while another’s blue fur blatantly marked him as alien, and the last had teeth they could see flash when they talked even as they came to a stop several yards away. At their feet was a large blue, dog? thing? maybe? There wasn’t that much time to dwell on it, because one of the humans was a girl their age and so as soon as the keys were out of the ignition Martin practically teleported to her side. The redhead looked both surprised and unimpressed by his sudden appearance.

“Hey there, I don’t think we’ve been introduced. My name’s Martin-” True to form he didn’t seem to notice how the girl and the brunet beside her were side eyeing him. He also didn’t notice his sister storming over until she had him by the ear and was yanking him away from them.

“I’m sorry about him, he’s a moron,” she said, holding out her free hand to shake. “I take it you’re the other team that got called in?”

“More like Kevin got called in and we came along for the ride, but yeah,” the girl replied with a firm handshake. “Gwen Tennyson, this is my cousin Ben- also a moron-”

“Hey!”

“-and over there are Rook, Kevin, and the dog is Zed.” Diana nodded, gesturing to her own team.

“I’m Diana Lombard, this is my brother, Martin Mystery, and that’s Java.” Java waved with a smile and Ben waved back.

“Wait, ‘Martin Mystery’?” Kevin and Rook were returning to the group, a map clenched in Rook’s hands and Zed at their heels. There was a toothy and slightly sinister grin on Kevin’s face. “The Martin Mystery and company?” Java and Diana shared a wary look as Martin puffed up like a rooster and held out a hand, gaze lingering briefly on the tight shirt and monstrous teeth.

“The one and only.” Kevin’s toothy grin only got more worrying, even as he accepted the handshake.

“I’m Eva Jones’s son.” And Martin deflated like a popped balloon, which was always amusing for the others. There was no way the Chief of Security’s son was going to be in awe. Something that was all but confirmed when he continued talking. “Mom has told me so many stories about you.”

“What kind of stories?”  Martin asked, eyes narrowing slightly, and Kevin shrugged.

“Varies. Sometimes I stop by for dinner and get to hear about ‘Agent Lombard beat a slug-fucker with brains and a saltwater fish tank’, others I get a text in the middle of the night thanking me for having enough sense to not let a werewolf wound go untreated.” And there it was, Martin was on the edge of pouting. Fortunately- or unfortunately, if you were Diana and loved watching your brother wallow in his own dangerous stupid- Gwen was merciful.

“So, what have we got to go on?” Rook seemed as happy to get to work as Martin and smiled at all of them, immediately going and laying the map he held out on the fountain wall.

“Aaron and John were good enough to provide us a map showing the general area of each disappearance,” he said, pointing out a series of red spots on the map. They were all clustered over a large area with no discernible pattern. “If we make our way onto the Aspen Trail, then cut onto the Blackcap Trail, we should be able to do a partial circuit of the area.” Stepping back, Martin stretched and grinned.

“Sounds like a plan.”

~~

They’d been walking an hour and Diana was in hell.

“I wouldn’t call Attack of the Killer Donuts the best B-horror of our time, I mean have you seen Ice Spiders?”

“Really, Benji? If you’re going with Syfy-style you could at least go for Attack of the Killer Lampreys or something.”

“Ooo, that one was awesome! I’ve watched it four times!”

“Java big fan of Lake Placid sequels.”

“Hold up- Two? Or three and four?”

“Three and four.”

“Good man.”

It was a nightmare.

“I was really hoping Martin would leave this discussion behind.” Gwen patted Diana on the shoulder, joining her in sighing.

“Men, can’t live with them and if you kill them you have to deal with their mothers.” Diana almost joked about having a shot then, then remembered that much like she was, despite all attempts, clearly their father’s favorite, Martin and their mother had bonded like no other, and it was entirely likely that if she killed him Mom would disown her and start again with new children.

She sighed once more.

“So,” she said, pulling her eyes off the boys walking ahead of them to look at Gwen, “the pack brought you guys in?” Gwen nodded.

“Kevin’s Top Ossy on the planet right now, and the missing Ossy is his brother-in-law’s cousin, so when the pack couldn’t figure out what was happening he’s where they turned. The rest of us didn’t want him running into who knows what kind of trouble without back-up.” She could understand that. Apparently, nobody knew what they were dealing with, other than that it probably wasn’t a natural phenomenon (score- one Martin, yay). There weren’t any sinkholes found or anything, and Diana couldn’t imagine large predators had much space to come in with a whole pack of them already living there. But then, why was it…

“Does it seem eerily quiet to you?” Diana asked after a moment. There was still the boys’ conversation, but under it was, nothing.

“Oh thank god, it’s not just me. Shouldn’t there be birds or bugs or something?”

“Yeah…”

Up ahead, Zed sudden froze and began to growl.

Nothing appeared off about the area they were heading into, but still the group stopped where they were and carefully took stock of what was ahead. It was a small valley, not particularly deep but still notable. The path went in, followed the edge of the river, heavily laden with plant-life, then went back up the cliffside a few acres along. At first look, purely innocuous, but as they closed in on each other protectively experience told them they weren’t so lucky.

“Prime ambush territory,” Ben said, and the others all nodded.

“I say we risk it,” Martin added, and Diana sighed.

“Of course you do.”

“What are we going to learn if we don’t go in? Nothing, so we go.”

“It makes sense.”

“If we die, the Center’s paying for the funerals.”

“Deal.”

Which was about the point where a massive head came out of the undergrowth, straight at them, at speed.

“Shit!” Nearly as one mind they scattered, Gwen instinctively hurling a mass of pink energy at the creature as they dodged its fangs. The damn things were easily the length of Diana’s arm! The girls, Kevin, and Rook scrambled away from the creature as more of it emerged, Kevin’s hand tight on Zed’s collar.

It was a massive serpent, with a head easily as wide as Java. The scales along it’s body were a deep, deep black with dark blue banding and shone with a rainbow of iridescence, its head crested with a rack of long, tined antlers. High on the head, between its eyes- one a deep brown and the other a milky beige- sat a diamond crystal that blazed in the mid-afternoon sun. It was beautiful, so beautiful. Surely this would be the best way to die, here to something lovely, rather than later to some slime creature, or ghost, or whatever horrible thing she would be made to face next. A miracle, the fact she’d survived this long, how much longer could luck last before something else ate her, possessed her, best for them not to have the chance-

A flash of pain as she hit concrete and Diana was knocked from her daze, looking up to see Rook laid overtop of her on the trail as the serpent surged forward above them. It turned on itself, clearly drawing back for another attempt and giving Kevin and Gwen just enough of an opening to rush back in and haul them to their feet. The two bolted back up the path, Zed just ahead of them and Kevin behind, as Gwen blasted the beast again, sending it reeling long enough for Martin and Java to come running back out from where they’d tumbled into the valley, Ben over the caveman’s shoulder.

“There’s two of them,” Martin yelled as they ran passed, grabbing Gwen by the arm and shoving her ahead of them. “Two!”

True to word another of the beasts slithered behind them, whole and hearty and quickly joining with the first in chasing them down. All they could do was keep running, running despite the realization these things were fast, and large enough that they all knew any distance they might gain would be lost if they tried to head into the trees. These things could probably eat the trees. Relief only came when Ben finally came back to himself, vanishing in a flash of green light that had Java dropping him in the path, only to appear again as a plantperson.

“Time to bring the heat,” he said, shooting seeds from his hands into the earth along the path. Almost instantly they sprouted, bursting forth as thick vines that joined together to form a wall blocking the way. He then lit the vines on fire, just in case. “Hah! Let’s see ya get through that!”

“Don’t tempt the dragons!” Swampfire squeaked as Kevin got him by the back of the neck, having doubled back once he realized what was happening, and dragged him along with the others.

They may or may not have been being chased anymore, but they sure as fuck weren’t stopping.

~~

“I can’t believe we almost got eaten by an Uktena!”

“Two Uktena.”

“Even better!”

For the most part they were all collapsed at one of the outlook spots on the trail. Martin, though, was pacing back and forth with a grin because who else did Diana know who would think nearly dying via giant snake monster was cool?

“Okay, Martin,” Gwen said, “glad you’re happy, but if you could fill the rest of us in.” He stopped and turned his grin on the group.

“Uktena are horned serpents from Cherokee myth, formed out of people unhappy with their lives,” he said. “The crystal on the head? It’s called an Ulun'suti- I probably butchered that… Anyway, it’s mildly hypnotic and eventually creatures who stare into it just give themselves up to be eaten!” A look of mild confusion came over his face. “They don’t normally hunt humans though, that’s weird…” Off the side, where he was lying in the grass, Kevin shook his head.

“A dragon made out of people, with a blind left eye, that’s just suddenly showed up?” He lifted his head enough to look at the others. “That was Dalen.” His head thudded back down. “Also explains why she’s hunting humans, we aren’t picky eaters.”

“Alright,” Diana said, “that explains the one then. What about the other?” Everybody shrugged.

“Who knows,” Martin said, “could be another one of the missing people, could be one that just showed up around now. Maybe having the other one here attracted it.”

“Knowing our luck it heard we were coming and decided to join in.” Ben heaved a sigh. “Why is it always things with scales? We have not met anyone decent with scales!”

Diana was happy to see everyone except Ben sit up and give him the stink eye. Kevin doubly so.

“Excepting present company.” She continued to glare, tail twitching in aggravation. Was it cool to smack one of somebody else’s boys?

“Uh-huh, yeah..”

“And all of my siblings? Just not a thing now?” Kevin asked with a sneer, before falling back to the ground. Zed whined and curled up against his side. “Just, will somebody kill him and save me the trouble?”

“No killing my cousin,” Gwen said, flopping back down herself.

“And you all see why we broke up.” While Kevin huffed, Ben turned a pleading gaze on Martin, in clear hopes of back-up. Instead Martin gave him a sharp look and went to collapse beside his sister and Gwen.

“Not cool, man.”

~~

They decided, in the end, to turn in for the night and pick the mission back up in the morning. The reasoning being that it was getting late and since so far all known attacks and attempted attacks had happened during the day odds were good the Uktena were at least primarily diurnal. An unoccupied cabin was found along the trail, outside of what Martin and Kevin had deemed the ‘Dinner Zone’ as well as the pack territories. That second bit was important because once everyone was inside Kevin had gone out and rubbed his scent all over the trees surrounding the building, just in case that helped.

It was an Ossy thing. They rolled with it.

~~

Dinner options were slim. The Center had provided trail food- mixes, jerky, dried fruit- and a few tins of canned meat and fish for each agent. The Tennyson team turned out to be at least a little more prepared, mostly because Kevin had managed to fit a corned beef into his pack (“We just don’t ask anymore, last time it ended with a two-hour explanation of space-time and dimensional rigging that went over everybody’s head”) and Rook had brought a collapsible pot and portable range (“You would think the park would stock these, but apparently no”). Most of the corned beef went to Kevin and Zed, something the Tennysons and Rook didn’t begrudge them and Martin, Diana, and Java- keeping in mind the pamphlets- decided to follow their lead on. They weren’t certain what happened if an Osmosian got hungry, but they didn’t want to find out.

Eventually, the group split into two, with Java, Rook, and Kevin taking over the kitchen while the others hung out the whole ten feet away in the living room. If nothing else the cooks seemed to be enjoying themselves, laughing and chatting and exchanging tips and tricks and recipes. And at some point Kevin’d put his hair up, the end result of which was Martin watching them over the back of one of the couches, eyes narrowed, mouth open, and head tilted to one side as Ben patted him consolingly on the shoulder.

“I swear,” Diana said quietly as she watched this, leaning in close to Gwen, “I can feel his heterosexuality combusting from here.” Gwen nodded.

“Yeah, that happens sometimes.”

~~

“You know, I never thought I’d enjoy canned sardines.”

“It is amazing what you can make work by cannibalizing the right packs.”

“And working with a guy who’s used to making a single ingredient into a million distinct recipes.”

“You are welcome.”

~~

“Ooo, spellbook!” It was a testament to the sort’ve thing she was used to that Gwen didn’t jump when Martin unceremoniously dumped himself into the seat beside her. She’d figured getting some studying done couldn’t hurt, not when they were trying to deal with a pair of giant, magical snakes, but as soon as she’d pulled out the book and cracked it open there he’d been.

“Into magic?” she asked, looking at him critically, eyes narrowed. Martin puffed up proudly.

“Runs in the family,” he said, “I can’t even remember when my Gran and aunts started teaching me spellwork.” Gwen snorted a quick laugh.

“Lucky. I had to teach myself. It’s only in the last few years I’ve gotten any actual teaching, or access to new books.” She raised the one in her lap slightly for emphasis and watched Martin light right up.

“Wait here! Java!” Leaping to his feet he crossed the space between himself and the caveman, immediately digging into the front of his shirt and pulling out a large book before practically diving back for the couch. “Check this out.”

The book wasn’t as grand as the one Gwen held, and it was certainly in worse shape. There was water damage, scorch marks, and places where dirt had clearly been ground into the parchment. As Martin flipped through it Gwen was fairly certain she saw evidence that it had been rebound at least once. But it was stuffed to the brim with spells and notes in what she had to assume was his own handwriting. Half of the spells weren’t even in the same languages, she counted at least six. Three of which she didn’t recognize.

“Okay,” she said after about the third spell in what she would later learn was Etruscan, leaning over to dig through her pack for some pens and paper, “you can copy from mine if I can copy from yours. Deal?”

“Deal.”

~~

“Okay,” Rook said the next morning while they all gathered over a breakfast of cereal bars, jerky, and dried apples, plus plenty of instant coffee for Martin and Gwen (“It’s your own fault for staying up till four am”), “let us review- what do we know?”

“That we’re dealing with two Uktena,” Diana said, “one of whom used to be an Osmosian.”

“Because of course Ossys aren’t scary enough,” Ben added and got swatted for it because she and Kevin were both too tired for him to start.

“Hunting here,” Java said, pointing at the map laid on the table between them, “in valleys.”

“They’re ambush predators,” Martin said around a bite of cheerio bar. “Plus, their breath is poisonous.”

“Oh joy.” Sarcasm was just dripping from Kevin’s voice. “Hypnotic and poisonous.” He sighed, snatching up a handful of jerky and chewing it with open aggravation. “Roy can never hear about that, for his own sake.” Gwen patted his shoulder and passed an apple ring to Zed before leaning forward to inspect the map.

“So, what do we do then? Are we catching them or-?”

“The Center can move them somewhere they won’t be a threat to any people,” Diana said. “They’ve done it before with larger creatures. We just have to subdue them first so they can come in and get them.”

“It’s safer than trying to kill them anyway,” Martin added. “They’ve only got one vulnerable spot, on the seventh stripe, and it’s tough to hit without being in eating range.”

“Okay,” Ben said, “so all we have to do is catch them.”

“Easier said than done,” Diana replied, leaning back against the couch. “How do we catch them?”

“If you guys can get them to stay still,” Gwen said, “Martin and I both have sleep spells we can cast on them. I don’t know for sure if they’d work on these things, but it’s worth a shot.”

“I don’t know, Gwen,” Martin said, rubbing the back of his head. “Supposedly seeing these things asleep causes your family to die.”

“At this point,” Kevin tossed in, “I would be impressed if something managed to kill the family I’ve still got.” The table went quiet, everyone rolling the risk around in their heads, blindly watching Zed sneak food.

“Alright,” Rook eventually said, “how about this- Ben, do you think you could use Diamondhead or Swampfire to subdue them?” Ben hummed, leaning back in his seat as he considered the idea.

“Diamondhead, Swampfire, Wildvine, all could lock them in place from a distance. Maybe Gravattack? And if need be I could always possess them one at a time with Ghostfreak…”

“How about we avoid possession?” Diana asked, shivering. She’d seen and experienced enough possessions in her life, thank you, she didn’t want to play witness to any more than she had to. Java laid a supportive hand on her shoulder. The Tennyson team gave her a questioning look, but Kevin soon nodded, and the rest followed suit.

“Yeah, that’s a trauma I think we can all forgo reliving if we have the chance.”

“So,” Rook continued, “we draw them out into the open and Ben subdues them. If that does not work, then Martin and Gwen put them to sleep. Agreed?” Everyone looked at each other, then slowly began to shrug.

“It’s the best plan we’ve got so far,” Ben said. “So, Martin, you’re our expert, where should we look for these things?”

“Well…” Martin leaned forward, looking over the map. “They’re ambush predators, so they should probably hang out in places where they can jump out at people… Caves, valleys, deep water, dense foliage, large rocks…” Again, the table went silent as everyone considered the information.

“So,” Kevin finally said, “the entire Dinner Zone, basically?”

“I wish you guys wouldn’t call it that…”

“Pretty much,” Martin answered. He hummed contemplatively, tapping his fingers on the table as he considered the map and their options. “They are snakes though, maybe we can catch them sunning. Then they’d already be out in the open.”

“Good idea,” Java said, and the others nodded.

“We’d still have to find out where they sun,” Rook noted, but Kevin was already on his feet.

“Leave that to me,” he said, pulling out his phone and stepping off to the side, “the local pack should know every decent sunning spot in the park.”

“Okay then. Everyone,” Ben said with a grin, also rising to his feet, “get your shit together, we’ve got some snakes to catch.”

The cabin became a buzz of activity, as everyone scrambled to get their things back in order and clean up after themselves. Trash was shoveled into bins, counters were given a final wipe down, books and writing supplies were carefully tucked away into packs. Dinner and breakfast had cleared enough room for extra things to be stowed inside them, such as Martin’s spellbook and some of the canteens, which the group took the time to refill at the sink. It was the height of summer, even in a temperate region you didn’t want to run out of water if you didn’t have to. At some point Kevin returned to the couch, snatching a pencil from Martin so he could mark various areas on the map, chattering away with who they had to assume was Aaron in languages nobody understood. Occasionally the Omnitrix would pick up something in Imperial Osmosian, but other than that…

“We have sunning spots!” he finally called out, as everyone was finishing up packing, snatching up the map triumphantly and rocketing to his feet. “The hunt is on!”

~~

The journey wasn’t exactly arduous, but it sure wasn’t easy. For one thing they had to move at a steady clip, as fast as they possibly could. Nobody knew how long it took for reptiles that size to get up to temperature, but they didn’t want to miss them and have to search the entire area. Even still, that wouldn’t have been so much to ask if there hadn’t been five different sunning spots recommended in and around the Dinner Zone, each of which was only accessible by narrow paths through the trees, half of which were overgrown with foliage. These were places the pack occasionally used, but which were far enough out of the way so as to not see regular visitors. Perfect places for monster serpents to catch the morning sun.

“I have a question,” Ben asked as they made their way down from a tall outcropping. It had been the third stop, to no avail, and while all of them were athletic and well hydrated they also were soaked with sweat. “How does someone even become a snake monster?” All eyes turned to Martin who was, as usual, glad to share his obscure knowledge.

“Well, according to Cherokee myth a guy turned himself into one while spending the night alone in an asi with a pair of deer antlers, but I’ve never seen anything detailing exactly how that worked. She probably didn’t need the antlers though, having her own.”

“Honestly I’d be pissed to have lost a pair,” Kevin said, grasping onto trees to slow his descent down a particularly steep area. “A lot of packs are really tied closely to neighboring communities, especially ones native to the particular region. Tribal land’s close enough, if there’s a trick to the transformation Dalen probably learned it from a Cherokee parent or cousin.”

“Or grandparent.”

“Same diff.” The group went quiet again, mostly to focus on not slipping and falling, something only Diana was immune to. Turned out the tail was useful for balance and for catching herself on branches and the blackcap bushes that had clearly given the trail its name, the scales even protecting her from the thorns. She kept throwing Ben smug looks over it, and Rook, Kevin, and Martin kept giving her thumbs up when the hero wasn’t looking. None of them had forgotten or forgiven his ‘no decent people with scales’ comment yet.

It wasn’t until they found the path again that they returned to talking.

“So, she probably did it to herself,” Gwen said. “That’s sad, and worrying.”

“In her defense,” Rook replied, “I am sure she did not expect to start eating passersby. Right?” Eyes went to Kevin, who shrugged.

“Don’t look at me, I met Dalen once and we didn’t exactly get close. If she was anything like Roy probably not?”

“Still not know about other snake,” Java pointed out. He was right too, they had no clue what was going on with that one. The best case scenario was that it was another of the missing people, bringing the Presumed Dead count down to seven, but they just couldn’t know. For all the information they had it could be a male attracted by Dalen’s presence, or a newcomer that prompted her own transformation. The worst possibility was that somebody had made them against their wills, but since so far Martin had said nothing about that being an option everyone was setting it aside. He and Gwen were the magic users around, after all, and surely they would’ve let the others know if that was something that might have happened.

“Hopefully,” Diana said, “the Center can figure out who they are.” If they could give some sort’ve closure to the families, tell even one mother that their child was alive even if they’d never come home, then that would make the effort of learning, of catching them alive, worth it. Idly she wondered if the pack had already been told of Dalen’s fate.

“Sure they can.” Martin’s grin was bright, though behind it was dead seriousness. He may have been a goofball, but his job was important and he treated it as such when the chips came down. “With all the stuff we’ve got access to? There’s no way they can’t.” Up ahead on the path, Rook nodded.

“Or at least no reason we cannot find somebody who can.”

~~

Four turned out to be their lucky number. Both the Uktena were there, their bulk coating the surface of a massive stone jutting out over one of the area’s many streams. Their scales shone in the sunlight, dark and rainbowed and beautiful, while their Ulun'suti glinted and seemed to almost glow in the light. Under better circumstances it would have been a wonderful sight, two great dragons warming themselves. A sight for life long memories. One for photos.

Thankfully they didn’t seem to hear the click of a phone.

“Kevin!” Half the group hissed as one, careful to keep their voices down. They were gathered in the shrubbery near the bottom of the stone, just far enough away to avoid being immediately noticed.

“What?” he whispered, replacing the phone in his pack, “Her mom will want this.” With a round of sighs the others shook their heads, turning their attention back to the Uktena pair.

“Is this normal?”

“Maybe? Who knows, I’ve only read about these things and one of them is an Ossy.”

“Okay, do we all remember the plan?” Rook looked around at the group as best he could- Java had been forced to hide further back due to his size, and Kevin would’ve been too if he and the girls hadn’t been first to the spot, which meant he had to somehow check around that bulk on top of all the foliage everywhere- and was glad to see nodding and thumbs up all around. “Alright. Spread out, make sure they cannot slip away if they get loose. And be careful.”

They all were as quiet as they could be as they acted, avoiding loose stones and twigs, taking their time now that they could confirm that the snakes weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. Gwen and Ben headed one direction, while Martin, Diana, and Rook headed in the other. Kevin and Java stayed more central, a solid foundation behind the targets. As soon as everyone appeared to be in position, Ben dialed the Omnitrix and slammed down his selection, erupting again in a blaze of bright green light that faded away to reveal Wildvine already digging his roots into the stony shores.

At the sudden flash the Uktena both leapt into action, rearing straight up as their heads swung to see the source. A hiss left the one that was Dalen, body tensing as her companion tilted their head. The action caused the gem between their eyes to glint and gleam, and the group all were careful to avoid looking at it, keeping their eyes on the antlers, the jaws, anywhere else on them. Except for Wildvine, who simply laughed at the attempt as the reflection off the crystal played across his face.

“Got you there,” he said with a wide grin, “Wildvine can’t be hypnotized!”

The pair seemed to be surprised by the new development, though with snake faces who could tell. Still, they didn’t surge forward in vicious strikes like before, but instead stayed in place, eyeing the young hero with caution. Wildvine took the opening. He reached over his shoulders, tearing seed pods from his back and hurling them towards the snakes. As soon as the first few hit the serpents took action, moving to put distance between themselves and this strange foe they couldn’t bring to heel, but it was too late. The moment they began to move the seedpods sprouted, issuing forth thick, knobby green vines that wove themselves around Uktena and rock both.

“See? Easy!” The rest of the group crept out of hiding carefully, eyes locked on the captured serpents.

“I’d feel a lot better if that hold was tighter…” The grip didn’t look secure. Dalen was held mostly to the stone as she struggled, but the other one, not so much. It strained upward, and though it didn’t get far one could imagine the sound of vines creaking and straining against its strength.

When they finally failed it was one after the other down the creature’s back, like watching a zipper come undone.

“Shit!” Everyone scrambled back again as the vines on the Uktena fell away and it surprised them all by turning not towards its attackers but towards Dalen. In two massive bites it tore through the vines holding her head and neck, leaving her free to repeat its earlier vine bursting maneuver. That job done, it finally tuned back to Wildvine, lunging forward in an attack he was just barely able to dodge, and twisting back on itself to trap the Tennysons in the coil of its body. Dalen, meanwhile, surged in the opposite direction, throwing herself among the rest of the team with a loud hiss and a brandishing of fangs and antlers. Everyone who could scattered, trying to avoid being victim to either the weapons or bulk of the beast.

She lashed out with tail and fang, swung her antlers in wide arcs when too close to lunge, thrashing like she wanted to get at all of them at once. Probably she did. It was impossible to get a bead on her, not when she was moving about so wildly, not when she was staying in such close proximity to them, not when they were trying so hard not to be caught in the shine of the Ulun'suti in the sun. Java caught Martin as a swinging tail launched him into the air. Rook’s call to fall back was almost lost in the sound of heavy scales on stone and the splashing of all these creatures in the water.

“A little help here?!”

“We’ve kinda got our own problems!” Zed at least was able to come to the Tennyson’s aid, charging forward to drive her teeth into the tail of the other Uktena while the others were too caught up in not being eaten by Dalen, and keeping a tight grip even as it tried to fling her off and into the woods. If nothing else, it gave the cousins an opening- for Gwen to distract it with blasts to the face and belly and for Ben to dial up an option that would hopefully have an easier time subduing the creature. In another flash the roots and greenery of Wildvine disappeared and were replaced with the shining form of Diamondhead.

“If somebody could get them on the ground, this time it should work!”

“It better!” Martin dodged another swing of Dalen’s antlers as he and Rook bolted for the other serpent’s tail, leaping up to try to drag it down with sheer weight. Diana and Kevin ran to try to do the same with the head, the hybrid reaching out to get a thick coating of the stone as they cut under it on their way to where Gwen was using her magic to drag the thing into their range. Java, meanwhile, was taking on the dangerous job of trying to keep Dalen from going after the rest of them.

It wasn’t working.

As soon as she realized her companion was being dogpiled she surged back over the top of the stone, mouth gaping wide to snap up somebody, anybody, in front of her. Java clung to her middle, digging in his heels as best he could, Gwen throwing up a quick shield to prevent her from managing the foot of distance more she needed to reach the rest of the team. Quickly she was in on the battle between caveman and serpent, Java doing his best to slowly drag Dalen backwards away from the group while Gwen used her magic to keep her from doubling back and tearing into Java like a ripe fruit. It was a vicious game of tug-of-war, where a slip by either of the heroes could easily get all of them killed.

On the other side of things, Operation Dogpile was working. Kevin and Diana had distracted the snake long enough for Martin, Rook, and Zed to get his tail to the ground, and together their own weight was enough to keep its head on the ground as well. Diamondhead, through this, solidified each little victory with a barrage of crystal, a preliminary cage as the massive shards briefly cut off movement away from him. This wasn’t a solid solution though. The crystals were stronger than vines, yes, but here and now was not the place to take half-measures. Once the snake was under some degree of control he began phase two, calling up huge, thick sheets of crystal from the ground. Five locking the head in place, with one before the snout, while hordes of others ran down the serpent’s length, with gaps between them only large enough for those clinging to it to slip free.

At which point Dalen went ‘fuck this’. Where before she had been struggling to pull herself free of Gwen’s magic long enough to tear Java off her midsection, now she instead suddenly surged forward towards the girl, shocking her into breaking her hold and Java into loosening his grip. She almost soared over Diamondhead’s head, curling herself around her companion’s and trying to bite through the crystal holding them. Inside the crystal cage, Kevin and Diana were beginning to lose the breath they’d been holding in an attempt to not be poisoned and Diana, much like Dalen, immediately decided to take action.

That action was punching the Uktena in her dead eye.

With a violent hiss the beast pulled back, giving her head a brief shake and what could only be a glare to those assembled before disappearing into the forest as suddenly as she had first appeared the day before.

They were alone again. Sort’ve.

“Everyone in one piece?” Ben asked in unison with Java’s “Martin and Diana alright?”

“Fine over here,” Martin said as he, Rook, and the dog all slid free of the cage. “Sis?”

“We’re okay,” Diana responded.

“Nice jab.” Kevin gave her a grin as she helped him squeeze free of the crystal and she gladly returned it.

“Thanks, my mom taught me.”

“Awesome.”

“So,” Gwen said, heaving a sigh as everyone gathered on and around the rock to check their injuries- only scrapes and bruises, thank god, though Kevin and Diana worried everyone with some coughing they insisted was nothing major- and look out over their catch, “what do we do now?”

“We call the Center,” Diana said, she, Martin, and Java lumping together protectively as the Tennyson team did the same, “then we go find the other one.” As one the group looked at the Uktena they’d already caught. It wasn’t struggling anymore, having seemingly accepted that there was no escape from it’s current predicament, and instead was staring them down with it’s dark, dark eyes. Ben took a deep breath as, in a flash of green, he turned back into himself, and fixed the team with a self-assured smile.

“We’ve totally got this.”

~~

The team split up. Not for long, just so somebody was there to wait for the Center’s monster transport squad to show up while the others made sure they had a trail they could follow. In theory it wasn’t difficult, she was a sixty-foot snake for fuck’s sake, but she was a sixty-foot snake that had been an Osmosian, which was the universe’s way of challenging a hunter.

“How did she make the trees here hold her?”

“I don’t know. I saw Kay do that sort’ve thing once, but he’s never taught me.” Humming under his breath, Java stepped away from Kevin and Rook and began scaling one of the trees that appeared to have greatly suffered under the weight of what they were assuming was Dalen. At least, the damage appeared fresh enough for that. He was careful with his steps, even as the other boys gathered at the base of the trunk to break his fall should he do so, and stayed mindful of the damage already done. When he reached as far as he felt he safely could, the caveman cast his gaze at the trees around them.

“Trail go,” he said slowly, pointing, “that way.”

“Alright.” Rook nodded, gesturing Kevin forward. They had Zed with them, and hopefully soon they would find a spot where Dalen had returned to the ground and the Baskurr could pick her scent back up. “Are you staying in the trees, or rejoining us down here?” Java took a moment to think about it, looking over the path through the trees. It seemed solid enough. Hopefully.

“Java stay in trees, keep others on track.” Another nod from the alien and a smile.

“Lead the way then.”

~~

Everyone was back on the ground when the others found them again, having tracked them with Gwen’s magic, as planned, and made a beeline rather than following the Uktena’s path. Zed was back on the scent and tense at Kevin’s side as they all reconnected.

“The other one taken care of?” he asked, trying to keep the dog calm with long strokes down her neck. Gwen nodded.

“They’re going to find a space for them in the jungle,” she said, “and for Dalen once we get her.”

“Good.”

“Okay everybody,” Martin said, smiling and stretching, “get ready for Round Two.”

“Electric Boogaloo.”

“Rook, please don’t.”

~~

The moment Zed started growling was déjà vu all over again. It wasn’t the same little valley, not the same river, and there was no concrete path leading ominously down into the shade, but it certainly felt the same. There were no trees down there, only dense underbrush. Thick masses of green bushes, grasses, vines, waist high and more, coated the bank on both sides. The river itself was deep, dark, and fast moving. No birds or insects sang.

In the center of the water, one could just make out the tips of antlers sticking out into the open air.

“So, Diamondhead again?” Ben asked, careful to keep his voice down. They were all fairly certain they were out of striking range, but that didn’t mean they wanted for her to notice them before she absolutely had to. Gwen shook her head.

“I’m not sure that would work,” she said. “I mean, they’ve already proved they’re smarter than your average snakes.”

“Or at least more social,” Martin added.

“It might be easier this time,” Rook said, “with only one for us to dogpile on.”

“And then we can worry about getting poisoned and maybe drowning,” Diana pointed out. “The last plan worked, but if we can avoid anyone having to lie over this thing’s nose I think we should go for it.”

“I’m with Diana,” Kevin chimed in, “holding the head down by hand is too risky.” Martin was the first to nod, followed by the rest.

“You’ve got a point,” he said, then held up the U-Watch. “U-Watch has a grappling hook, I might be able to hold her in place so Gwen can put her to sleep.”

“My proto-tool also has one,” Rook added, “we can each go for an antler.”

“Okay,” Ben said, “but can you two hold her on your own?”

“Java help,” the caveman said, and Kevin piped up along with him.

“With the four of us, it’d be, well not easy but not impossible. Then you and Diana can hold the back end while Gwen works her magic.” Nobody looked entirely comfortable with the idea, but then that wasn’t something that had ever stopped any of them from doing their jobs before. Ben gave a short, empty laugh.

“Probably be easier to just kill her.” Kevin huffed.

“As long you’re the one to tell her mother.” The team went quiet for a beat, two beats.

“Let’s go with the grappling hook plan.”

“Good idea.”

~~

Zed was sent down into the valley first, as bait, despite Kevin’s vehement protests. The thinking here was that 1) she was small and fast and more likely to outspeed Dalen than any of the rest of them were, and 2) out of them she had the most experience with this sort’ve thing thanks to her old owner. They hoped she would lure the serpent out of the river and into the open, so they could have an easier time getting hold of her without running such a high risk of getting pulled under and drowned.

The plan worked. Dalen surged out of the river as soon as Zed was in range, just barely missing the Baskurr on the first strike (and the clenching of Kevin’s jaw was nearly audible at that). In an instant Zed was twisting on her heels and charging back up the snake-made trail towards Gwen with what felt in the moment an endless mass of magical serpent close behind. As soon as the alien dog had reached Gwen’s side Phase Two of Operation: Rescue Dalen From Herself went into action. In a flash of light Ben was replaced with Four Arms and he leapt down from where he and Diana had lain in wait at the top of the near cliff acting as the valley wall, landing heavily by the tail of the beast and grabbing hold. Dalen, of course, couldn’t be having with that and began to turn on herself to strike at him, only for the rest of the boys to jump into action.

From their positions hidden in the brush on either side of the trail Martin and Rook sprang forward, each taking quick aim and launching their grappling hooks at the nearest antlers to themselves. The response was vicious, with Dalen immediately trying to rear back and take them off their feet, only to be stopped by Kevin and Java’s intervention, grabbing hold of the other boys and the lines tethering her and digging in their considerably heftier and stronger heels. Between the pairs- Martin and Kevin on her right, Rook and Java on her left- she soon found herself struggling to move her head more than a half-foot in any direction, each attempt causing the opposing pair to yank back as hard as they could to keep her in place.

That was Diana’s cue. It had been decided, just before the plan went into action, that using Four Arms meant Ben wouldn’t need the help keeping Dalen’s back end under control, which freed her to help in other ways. Such as making sure nobody was sunken into despair by the gem on the Uktena’s head. Leaping down from the top of the cliff, she landed squarely on the serpent’s back, using the extra balance her tail gave her to scramble up to her head. Once there, she wrapped legs and tail around Dalen’s throat as well as she could before hefting Gwen’s now empty pack across her face, quickly stretching to catch the second strap and hold it tight so the Ulun'suti was suitably covered. Now, truly, the creature was as subdued as the non-magic-users could safely get her, and it was up to the only magic-user let unoccupied to finish the job.

Backing up to get a better view, Gwen opened her spellbook to the appropriate page. Thankfully it was a simple one, requiring her to trace what to a novice would’ve seemed an intricate pattern in front of her, one that rested in the air in a series of glowing pink lines, and pushing it gently towards the serpent alongside a single word incantation.

“Quiescis.”

It was like the entire valley went still, silent seconds stretching into something that felt like hours. The others kept their tight holds as the Uktena just, sat there, unmoving. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she slowly began to lower her head to the ground. They let her, each carefully releasing the breathes they’d held in anticipation as they loosened their grips and she curled in around herself, settling into a quietly coiled form in the brush. Nobody said a word for several moments. Diana slid from her back. Everyone watched the creature as if she may leap back up at any moment.

She didn’t.

“Yes!” With a series of whoops the whole team burst into massive grins. Java lifted Rook straight off his feet in a hug. Gwen burst into laughter, doubly so as Zed jumped up to lick at her face. A flash of light turned Ben back to himself in time to share a high five with Diana. Kevin threw an arm around Martin’s shoulder in a tight side-hug, a gesture Martin returned for about five seconds before realizing ‘proximity’ and ‘Kevin’ and trying to carefully edge away (it didn’t work) (“Have your crises on your own time, Mystery”). The relief that flooded the small valley was palpable as they crowed their victory, relishing in their safety, the Uktenas’ safety, and the public’s safety.

Everything was going to be fine.

~~

“Good job, everyone,” MOM said as behind her Center employees carefully moved Dalen into a transport container, “thanks to you both Uktena will be moved to a reserve in South America where they won’t be any further threat to the public.”

“I’m sure Dalen’s family will be happy to know she’ll be safe, at least,” Diana said. Ben then chimed in.

“And, the other one, you’re going to find out who they are, right?”

“We’re going to try,” MOM said. “We can’t promise we’ll succeed, but we’re going to try.” The Tennysons didn’t look convinced, but before they could say anything Kevin tossed in a quick

“It’s better than the Plumbers have ever managed.” -and there really wasn’t a way for them to counter that.

“You should all be very proud of yourselves.” And with that MOM simply turned away, a final compliment before she gave her attention back to the people doing the transporting, leaving the team to their own selves once again.

“About that,” Martin said, grinning and holding out a hand for a professional shake, “great spellwork, Gwen. A resting spell rather than a sleeping spell, nice last-minute switch.” She laughed and accepted the shake.

“Thanks,” she said. “Kevin’s family may be tough enough for him not to worry about, but I really didn’t want to risk mine. And since you were so happy to see it in the book last night it was pretty close to the front of my mind.” Somehow Martin’s grin got wider.

“Awesome!”

“You guys all were great,” Ben said, stepping forward with Rook right behind him in action and word.

“We would love working with you again.”

“Hopefully with something involving less hypnotic snakes,” Gwen made sure to add. With a grin of her own Diana laughed.

“Tell me about it,” she said, “if I never see another one in my life it’ll be too soon.”

“And what about Osmosians who aren’t snakes?” Kevin asked, “‘cause I still gotta go fill in Dalen’s family, if you all wanna join me?”

They kind of did.

~~

Turned out to find the pack you had to go down a well-hidden back road into an area of the park you could hardly even see from the main roads. Eventually you came to a dirt parking lot, half full of pick-ups and SUVs, and from there followed a trail down into one of the park’s biggest valleys. There were plenty of impressed whistles as Kevin pointed out things like the likely primary sunning spots for the pack, or explained how this massive cliff was likely run through with miles of tunnels and dens given the size of it and the age of the pack who lived there. At the base of the cliff, at the end of the trail, they found a large clearing with buildings built against the stone and so, many, people.

It wasn’t the whole pack by any stretch of the imagination, but it was still more than most of the group had been expecting. They’d figured Aaron and John- who were there, so at least they had those familiar faces- maybe the poor woman’s parents, mates perhaps, but it seemed that whole family branch was waiting on them. Everyone, from fluff covered children to the elderly, and in a variety of combinations from ‘totally all Ossy’ to ‘what are humans doing here?’ Most of the latter turned out to be relatives from the tribe, joined with their family to catch the news about their missing cousin.

The mood hadn’t been good when they arrived, everyone already knowing the news wasn’t likely to be happy. In fact, it’d improved slightly when they’d explained that Dalen wasn’t dead or kidnapped, just, well, turned into a giant snake and gone to live in the wilds and eat people. This was, apparently, considered at least semi-reasonable by the Osmosian side of things, even if the humans involved were very concerned and needed to be reassured that she and the other Uktena were being moved somewhere they couldn’t cause any problems. At which point they’d then had to reassure everybody that the Center could be trusted to move an Ossy, giant horned serpent or no.

Half an hour they were, just on “no, really, it’s cool, she’s gonna be fine, and we’re keeping an eye on it just in case anyway”. Paranoia apparently didn’t just run through the blood, it galloped.

The group found themselves invited to an early dinner, which quickly proved itself to also be a sort’ve wake. It seemed everybody had a story to tell about Dalen as they clustered at the edge of the clearing, drinking homebrew and eating a meal featuring heavily salted meat. A good meal, to the point Java and Kevin were both clamoring for some of the recipes (Martin and Diana had resigned themselves to a lifetime with regular bean bread from the caveman’s first bite), though it would’ve been better if they hadn’t all been served enough bear to kill a man. Apparently, it was the highest calorie food there and they were ‘all still growing’.

By the end of things more of the pack had come out to join them and the stories stopped being just about Dalen. Everyone had some tale to tell, whether they were traditional stories, tales of strange happenings, or the group telling story after story of their adventures. About wars, about hauntings, about survival in desolate landscapes and mad science gone horribly wrong. And when the stories got too scary for the little ones there were Java and Rook, off to the side telling them Revonnahan fairy tales and reciting Shakespeare comedies.

Half of the kids refused to go to bed until Java promised to come back sometime with his sock puppets and tell the stories properly. Another quarter had to be reminded that no, they could not go to Canada or Revonnah immediately, their families would miss them.

Again, the group stayed the night in the park, this time set up in a guest house that pointedly did not open into any of the tunnels or dens. Nobody even considered being offended, not with the (apparently reasonable?) paranoia, and their hosts made sure they had plenty of good food and water to keep them into morning. Many thanks followed them when they left the next day- for their stories, for coming to help, for not turning immediately to killing one of their own like so many outsiders would’ve done. (“I’m still not sure about that, I mean an Uktena-” “Pack.” “…...why do I even try?”) It was a great service they’d done both pack and tribe and there was no way they could leave without their gratitude having been made blindingly clear.

Still, nearly all of them agreed that the whole smoked turkey each was given was maybe going a bit overboard.

According to Kevin it was another Ossy thing.

So, they rolled with it.

~~

Everything always seemed boring after a mission. Didn’t matter if the team was settling back in at Torrington, or at home over the holidays, that juxtaposition between being off in amazing places experiencing new things and fighting monsters and magic and returning to normal life was always jarring. Like stepping off a boat only for your body to suddenly realize that the ground was stable. But if he had to come back to anywhere, he was always glad when it was home, where he could retreat into his own little haven of weirdness.

His room at the Lombard-Mystery house made the one at Torrington look like Diana’s.

Their parents had long given up on being able to see the floor and now just accepted that it would always be ankle deep in everything from dirty underwear to magical talismans to rogue Yu-Gi-Oh! cards. Though not food, not since the day their mom had actually brought out a flamethrower and brandished it in the direction of his door. Every square inch of wall space was covered in posters from various B-movies and sports events, and one massive mural of Hedorah he’d painted when he was twelve and was still way too proud of. The shelves strained under the weight of comic books, reference books, horror stories by everyone from Lovecraft to Ravenheart, and figurines of Digimon nobody would’ve ever expected to be able to find figurines for. Truly the only mostly-clear surfaces in the room were his bed, which was only half storage, and his desk, which held only a lamp flanked by figures of PlatinumNumemon and Raremon.

That gave him just enough space to continue his various studies into the weird and unusual and, most importantly, the magical, as he was doing at the moment. He’d come home, greeted his parents, regaled them with the story of he, Diana, and Java’s adventure (while Diana stood to the side, butting in every time he was explaining how awesome he was, the spoilsport), and ever since had been buried in his spellbook. There were so many new spells in it thanks to Gwen and he was absolutely enraptured. There was nothing quite the same as learning new magic and it would’ve taken a miracle to drag him away.

Or his phone going off, as the case may be.

Honestly even that didn’t really work. He didn’t even put down the turkey sandwich he’d made himself (they had too much turkey, somebody had to get rid of it), just pulled his phone out of his pocket blind, eyes still locked on the book.

“Hello, Martin Mystery speaking.”

“Hey Martin.” Finally, his attention was got. He didn’t look away from the book, but at least he stopped hunching over it.

“Tonio! Hey, how’s it going man?”

“Boring, for the most part. I might actually be starting to miss your antics.”

“Ouch. Terminal boring then.”

“Yep. If I don’t make it to the end of summer I’ve asked Mom to send you my comic collection.”

“Truly you’re the best friend.”

“I know.” There was a pause and Martin could’ve sworn he could hear the creak as Tonio leaned his chair back. He steeled himself, that always came with added teasing. “So, Diana said you guys went out of town.” Wait, since when did Diana have Tonio’s number? Since when did they talk? Exactly what sort’ve stories were they exchanging behind his back, and he knew if they were talking they were.

“Yeah,” Martin said, not letting on the sudden wariness he was feeling, “was pretty cool. Food was great, Java’s probably gonna be serving it in the cafeteria for half of next year.”

“Nice, nice,” he could almost see his friend nodding along in his mind’s eye, “she also said you met a cute guy.” No. Nope. Nada.

“I did not.” He was going to kill her.

“Really? She said you practically drooled.”

“That’s because she’s a liar. I know you don’t know this, but it’s a chronic thing with sisters.” She could forget college, she wasn’t even going to last to fall.

“It’s cool, man, there’s nothing wrong with you finding a guy you like. I was happy having a straight friend, but I can deal.” Scratch that, Martin was going to die, of embarrassment, right there at his desk. “Just don’t start flirting with me or anything.” He scoffed, huffed, and tore into his sandwich with feeling.

“Oh please, you couldn’t handle this much man.”

There was a loud thud on the other end of the line as Tonio fell to the ground laughing.

~*~

~*~

In the mid-afternoon a young Osmosian wanders the game trails that crisscross his pack’s territory. His dark and striped skin blends him in well with the mottled sunlight coming through the leaves and fragrant berries and flowers help to cover his scent from the prey he stalks. The goal is a deer, a plump young buck at best, to present as a gift to the object of his affections. A fresh kill, his own lone work, to show his attraction and dedication.

He can taste the remnants of one as easily as he can smell it. Somewhere in the area, he’s certain, is a spot where they sleep, and if he can find it and hide himself properly there then the kill will be easy.

What he doesn’t expect is to catch the scent of something else, something familiar yet unknown, running across the trail. Despite every warning his family has drilled into his head- about other packs, about poachers, about being seen without a disguise- curiosity wins out and pulls him off the trail and into the underbrush as surely as a hook through his nose. The tracks are old, the trail cold, but there’s still enough for a talented youth to follow. Enough to lead him onward, and onward, until nearly an hour has passed.

There’s a cave at the end of the trail. Not suitable for starting a new denning site, the roots of nearby trees are too thick and too close, there’s no room to expand. But still, inside he can taste life. Familiar life. Strange life. It’s with great caution he inches forward to see what there is to find.

The sight is one he knows well from checking on his relatives, on his sisters. A good dozen spheres of speckled grey rest in a depression in the dirt. Each is the size of a basketball, easily the largest he’s ever seen. There may even be more in the darkness, though he doubts it to look at them. Space there may be, but nothing else. Still, more or no, this is something for which he’ll need help, that the older members of the pack should know about, and so he turns and runs back down the faint trail with all the speed he can gather.

Several of the eggs are still glowing.

[boshawsharky]

Made It This Far

This fic contains references to self-harm, mental illness, delusions, and torture. It details a night of Pratt’s life after the end of the game. What happens in this fic is a work of my imagination and by continuing to read, you are consenting to read what could be potentially triggering.

Staci Pratt, T/W, 1,964 words.

This is my first Far Cry fanfic, so if it is inaccurate I apologise.

It’s official: Staci Pratt is an alcoholic.

Growing up with an alcoholic father, he swore he would never be in this position. He remembers his dad yelling at him for waking him up, or his mum trying to push him out of the house to protect them both. He remembers shamefully going to school and seeing his dad passed out on a park bench.

He swore this would never happen. He swore he would never turn out like his dad, yet here he is. Covered in beer cans and bottles, protecting him as if they were blankets. Almost as comforting, too.

His hand reaches to the nearest can and he lifts it to his lips, tilting his head back and keeping his mouth open to collect the few droplets that pour from inside, even if he can barely taste them. Anything helps, especially if it helps him forget Jacob, even if just for a few hours.

He always comes back in the morning, though. He always sits there at the end of his bed, or by the door, or by the sink- wherever it was that he passed out- smirking, looking down his nose, chuckling at him. Sometimes he is so close, Pratt can smell the coffee on his breath.

Fuck, the man is dead. You are going crazy.

He doesn’t understand how all this happened, he could have never expected to be this way. Then again, it was only two days before he was broken that he was joking about taking fuckin’ Nancy instead of Rookie. He didn’t see that happening, or Rookie saving his ass from Jacob.

Loud music pumps from down the road in Fall’s End, presumably from the bar that he sometimes meets Hudson in. They’re celebrating the New Year- that’s coming in a few minutes. Sharky Boshaw had invited everybody to a party in his trailer park- literally everybody, Rookie, Whitehorse, Hudson, everybody. Even Pratt. But Pratt couldn’t bear to go and see their sympathetic faces and the way they inched around him as if he was a bomb waiting to explode.

Well, frankly, he could. It can only take one little thing to trigger him, sometimes even the sight of his own face can do it. The scar across his nose, or if he has a nosebleed it feels like the world is ending.

The man moves and knocks all the cans off of himself, brushing them from his legs with a great clatter. The glass bottles smash on the floor, but the cans just bounce and roll. He pulls himself up and collapses on the sofa, tears threatening his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He thought he was getting better. He thought he wasn’t as weak any more.

You’ll always be weak, Peaches. Always.

He really thought the alcohol would take Jacob away from him. He thought it would help him, make him at least the slightest bit better. Why is it not helping this time?

He can see him stood in the doorway to the living room, judging eyes watching his every move, and that same bloody smirk on his features. Staci catches his eye, and immediately feels all the anger, all the upset, everything he has ever felt, fill him again.

The last full can on the side becomes his tool as he grabs it from its place on the table, throwing it out of the open window with a mighty roar and listening to it explode outside, covering the porch with beer. He feels like a prisoner in his own mind, and he wants out.

He continues to scream as he paces around the room, grabbing at his hair and pulling it before eyeing the phone sitting on the unit by the wall. He stumbles over to it, feeling like a dummy numb with emotions. He feels empty, he feels lost, he feels like he isn’t human.

The crowd down the street erupt into cheers and celebration, which tells him it is now midnight, it is now 2019. He has the phone in hand, but he stares at it. Who is going to answer him now? Fuck, who is he going to ring?

He slams it down with force, letting out another scream. He’s twenty-six, and he can’t even take care of himself. He can’t find the key to free himself from his own mind.

When he was seventeen, he was trying to impress his friends at a skate park. Something went wrong, he snapped his board, it flew up and hit him in the forehead, creating a gash. There was so much blood and he passed out. He thought when he came to two minutes later, he thought that was the worst feeling.

It was stupid, really. Just nine years later, he would be being tortured, he would be ruined, he would be broken.

At least he had his friends there, then. And a family to go home to- well, his mum. When Jacob had him strapped down to that chair, he was alone. He had never felt so isolated yet so exposed in his life.

He thought he would die there. He thought that his corpse would rot there until he was nothing.

That, that was the worst feeling.

And you’ve still not escaped.

He can feel Jacob’s rough hands grabbing one of his wrists, and he pulls it away from him.

“D-don’t touch me… You’re, you’re not real,” Staci whispers, closing his eyes and rubbing his wrist. He can’t calm his racing heart or his choking breaths. He can’t even stop the tears from flowing any more. “You- you can’t con, control me like this...”

But you’re wrong.

“Ple-please,”

Tears are streaming down his face and he uses his hand to numbly wipe them away. He’s choking on his own breathing and everything feels too much, too overwhelming.

Peaches, you’re-

“Shut up!” Pratt roars, picking up the phone from the receiver and dialling Sharky’s number- everyone is at Sharky’s place. Hopefully, someone can help.

“Happy new year!”

It’s Nick Rye’s voice that comes through the phone, drunk and happy.

Happy.

When was the last time Staci was happy?

Don’t do it, Peaches. You think you’re strong, handle this on your own. You can do that, can’t you?

“N-Nick,” Pratt whispers down the phone, praying Nick will hear him.

“Hello?” Nick says, and Pratt can imagine him looking at the phone with confusion on his face. Staci repeats himself. “Staci! How are you?”

“I, I need Ro-Rook,” he can barely make sense of his words as they come out of his mouth, nevermind nick trying to listen over the phone. “Please, Nick,”

“Sure, bud.” Nick’s tone goes soft, the same way that he hates people doing, “ROOKIE!”

Their voice is soft and comforting, like a soft, bright hand reaching through the darkness.

“Staci!” They are cheerful, happy, tipsy. Honestly, Staci would have loved to be there, but he would’ve had a panic attack, or he would have got slaughtered and passed out somewhere he cannot get home from. “Happy new year, dude! You okay?”

“I-I-I need you,” Staci puts his head in his hands as he sinks to the floor, somewhat restricted by the cord. It’s just turned 2019- why do people still insist on corded phones? “I need you, Dep. He’s back...”

“Jacob?” They ask carefully, listening to Pratt’s cry and taking it as an answer. “Fuck- I’ll be there soon. I need to find a designated driver, though- give me twenty minutes and I’m with you,”

You’re weak, Pratt. You’re nothing. When the collapse comes, what then? Who are you fighting for? What is the point in your existence if you can’t protect and serve? I mean- that is your job.

It’s been five minutes since the phone call and Staci is sat on the toilet seat in the bathroom, holding a smashed bottle in hand. He’s not coping well with this. He’s not coping at all.

“S-stop. I know you’re not real,” he can’t tell if it’s the alcohol in his system or the trauma that is making him speak funny, but he hates it. It makes him look even stupider than he feels. “I know you’re made up by m’ mind...”

But you hated me, Peaches. Why would your mind think of me if you hate me?

“Ruined my life...”

Your life is pointless anyway.

Pratt takes a deep breath and pulls his legs to his chest, putting his head back and bringing the sharp glass to his wrists.

The Deputy pulls up outside Pratt’s house, asking Kim Rye- the designated driver- to wait there for them, then makes their way inside.

There is an exploded can outside, and all the porch is wet from what they presume to be beer.

“Staci?” They call when they get inside the house, looking around. The empty living room is covered in beer bottles and cans, and the very phone that Pratt had used to call Deputy is hanging by its cord. They furrow their brows in confusion and head up the stairs, to the muffled sobbing. “Staci-”

“I fucked up, Rook,” he says, washing his arm under the tap of the sink, pinkish water running down the drain.”I-I couldn’t help it, ‘n Jacob was tellin’ me I’m worthless, ‘n-”

Rookie takes Pratt’s arm from under the water and presses a towel to it- for the most part, it has stopped bleeding, but they look sore. “We can fix this,” they say quietly, kneeling down in front of him and looking him in the eyes.

They reach for a med kid under the sink and use the bandages to wrap around his forearm, covering the mess he made.

After a short period of silence, Pratt looks to Dep. “How was Sharky’s party?” He asks, trying to fill the stuffy silence.

Deputy laughs, raising their eyebrows. “It was… Er… Explosive...” He says, shaking his head. “I mean, fun, but… A lot of fire. Lotta fireworks.”

Staci smiles, though it is lacking all emotion.

“I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have called you. I should man up and deal with it- I’m weak and-”

“Shh. I don’t mind.” Dep says, shaking his head. “Honestly. You call me whatever time you need,”

“I’m a fuck up.”

“We’re all fucked up, Pratt. That’s what they do, they play mind games with you.”

Pratt feels all the alcohol from earlier in his stomach, and suddenly, he is throwing up into the sink. When Rook first rescued him, they got back to the Wolf’s Den and ate some actual food. This caused him to be sick because when he was with Jacob, his diet was purely raw meat and rainwater. The good food made him sicker than a dog.

“I owe you my life,” Pratt then says, as Rookie helps him stand and guides him into the bedroom. “You don’t even understand, Dep. We would be nothing without you, and I’m so stupid because you helped me survive literal Hell, and now I’m out of there and I can’t even think right-”

“You need to sleep,” they say, not undressing him but helping him into the bed. “Come on, you’ve had a rough night. You don’t know what you’re saying,”

Staci closes his eyes, feeling worn, feeling defeated, feeling nothing but everything.

“I’ll come over in the morning, okay?” They say, holding his hand for a minute. “Rest. Call me when you wake up.”

“Is he okay?” Kim asks when the Rookie gets back into the car, putting on their seatbelt. Quietly, they nod. “Good. Wanna go back to the party or home?”

“Home, I guess.” They answer quietly.

“You know, you really have saved everyone’s ass. We would be nowhere without you. Pratt, Hudson, Whitehorse- everyone. We all owe you everything and we could never pay you back.”

[writingwell]

Castle's suicide note

#323 

(I don’t know what might trigger you, but if the prompt above makes you feel disquieted, please don’t continue. Be assured, Castle is not killing himself.)

-----

She’s rushing through the loft, grabbing a shoe here, snagging her jacket from the couch, hopping on one foot towards the kitchen for coffee she doesn’t need. She has files under an arm for the press briefing tomorrow, she’s walking funny as she searches for her other shoe, she’s trying to shove toast into her mouth so her stomach won’t rumble later tonight when everyone has gone home and she’s tempted to do the same.

She’s not pregnant. But they’re working on it; they’re going to see the specialist later this week, he finally agreed. No one will get wind of it, she hopes, at least not until she has something for them to get wind of. Stupid to feel like her job could jinx her, but it could. Does? Is?

She’s alone in the loft, and as the coffee finishes percolating, she checks the time. 

It’s late. Where’s Rick?

All of her controlled whirlwind comes to a grinding halt.

It’s late. She didn’t give it a second thought when she came stumbling home and straight into the shower, stripping her mud-soaked clothes off and leaving them on the floor under the second showerhead. She didn’t even think of him when the door didn’t open and his face didn’t pop around the corner and ask her for all the fun details of her case.

She’s a captain; she’s needed back at her precinct. But where is her husband at this hour?

“Rick?” she calls out, more tentative sounding than she’d like. She’s trying to remember if she actually saw his body in the bed or if it was mere pillows.

She takes a step towards the hallway, crashing into the wall as she forgets she’s missing a shoe, and her phone vibrates angrily in her back pocket.

Forget the pumps; she can wear her brown boots for this. 

She kicks off the heel and jogs back for the bedroom with the smell of coffee redolent in the air. Drawing her back. She needs to go. Her phone has another anxious alert that comes in right as she clears the doorway.

No. Not Rick. Just pillows.

It’s nearly midnight. Where is he?

She strides to the closet and tugs out her favorite brown boots, unzipping one as she jostles the files, the other boot, and her phone. She’s already heading for the office to check - sometimes he gets in the zone, just as she does, and he wouldn’t register a train wreck - but his office is empty.

His laptop is up. Her phone, alerts unlooked at, buzzes again. But she’s irresistibly drawn to his desk, her feet moving without her express written consent.

She’s not pregnant yet. There might be something wrong, one of them, both of them. Her heart is pounding. It’s midnight, or almost, and he’s not here to make her coffee she shouldn’t drink, and his laptop is up and not plugged in and he never leaves it like that.

She taps the space bar and the computer whines and wakes, blue illuminating the screen.

He has a document open on his desktop, untitled, unsaved. Words on the screen she shouldn’t read.

She shouldn’t read, but he hasn’t been writing lately, said after they got shot it was too hard to put Nikki and Rook through anything more.

She shouldn’t read but it screams off the page.

I can’t keep going like this. I’m sorry. You’re stronger than you know. You survived your mother; you’ll survive me.

Everything falls.

Papers flutter and skim across the wood floor, boots thudding hard after. Her knees drop and her body hits the desk on the way down.

She claws, the chair, the desk, her phone crushed in her hand. Nothing registers, nothing comes through, a terrible black darkness and a denial so strong and vivid and furious that she chokes on it.

No.

A clattering from somewhere, sounds muted by blood rushing in her ears, throbbing in her head. Sounds and disquiet, things disturbed, a sudden grip on her shoulder.

“Is it bad news? I saw something on CNN. Did another bomb-”

She turns a blind face to the thing hauling her to her feet.

“Oh, shit. That’s a novel. Kate. That’s the novel. I just started it, had to run out for snacks, I’ve been writing reams since you’ve - shit - Kate. Kate, that’s Rook. And it’s not a suicide note, Rook would never do that, oh my God, stop looking at me like that.”

She cracks. 

Flings herself at him, crushing everything, and he’s crushing back, murmuring words into her hair, petting her, holding her up until her feet finally work. Knees. Hips. Shoulders.

She smacks him best she can so close like this. Hits him again for leaving it up untitled and a mess on the laptop.

He’s laughing a little, chuckling at her anger that isn’t anger. “I know, I know, really bad timing. But hey, I’m writing again.”

“No,” she growls, slapping his chest and pushing back. “You’ve been sad and quiet, you get quiet when it’s bad, like right after we were shot and you couldn’t help me, and then trying to have a baby-”

“Hey, no, no. I’m - yeah, okay, I’m sad. I’ve been... I don’t know if you can call it depressed-”

“You stopped coming to the Twelfth.”

He sighs and bows his forehead to hers. “Okay, I’ve been depressed.”

“And quiet,” she whispers.

He doesn’t answer that.

“Three years ago, I’d have known this was a novel,” she chokes out. “Three years ago, I would never have thought-”

“Three years ago, we hadn’t been shot in our own home.” 

“And.” She grips his biceps because therapy has only done so much, and there’s more to this. “And? Three years ago...”

He growls her name as if in exasperation, goes on. “Three years ago, my wife hadn’t told me she needed space, utterly upending my entire sense of self and what I’m worth, not only to her, but to the damn world. Are you happy, Kate? I’m still not sure I’m any good for you, I’m damn well certain I bring you nothing but heartache and misery, and if I were thinking about killing myself, I wouldn’t write you a note like a selfish bastard. I’d just do it.”

She stares at him. He stares back. His lips move, nothing comes out.

Kate steps into him, presses her cheek to his; she’s not sure which of them is crying, maybe both. She clings to him because she never has the right words, because words don’t penetrate this writer, not when he’s so good at twisting them to his own ends.

“You need to go back to the therapist,” she whispers.

He nods against her. A little noise in his throat. “Rook didn’t write a suicide note.”

“No,” she agrees, clutching him a little harder. “No, but did you?”

“No,” he says forcefully. “No. I just found my angle for the novel. I was only...”

She turns her lips into his jaw, his neck. “Let’s hold off on the doctor’s appointment, hold off on the baby-”

“No,” he gasps. “No, that’s the-” A rough noise, his hands at her shoulders. “That’s a bright spot, thinking maybe we figure this out.”

She nods, but she’ll cancel it anyway, reschedule. 

“I’ll call Dr Burke,” he says, sounding cowed. “I will right now. Well, when his office opens. No, I’ll call and leave a message right now.”

She nods, caressing the back of his neck with her fingers. “Please do. You’re worth the whole world to me, Rick Castle.”

“I - I do know. I do. I just... get trapped in my head sometimes.”

“I know the feeling,” she chuckles softly, another kiss at his jaw. She also knows kisses and words won’t do the work; he has to want to do it, has to keep going to the therapist even when it’s dark and scary. “You haven’t been sleeping, the nightmares, you haven’t been writing - well until now-”

“Three sentences,” he grumbles.

“I haven’t been here, last few weeks, because of this task force, so I’m not sure you’ve even eaten-”

“Cheetos,” he admits with a sigh.

“And peanut butter,” she remembers. One night crawling into bed, the jar on the night stand. “I haven’t been paying attention because I bury myself in work, I combat my darkness with overtime. But I’m cheating you, and I’m sorry, so sorry-”

“I’m not trying to kill myself,” he grumbles.

“I know,” she promises. “But you are the world to me. Asking for space was dumb, and it’s not what I’m doing now. Don’t dwell there, Rick, when we both know better. You are the world to me. My whole amazing beautiful goofy world. My dreams come true.”

He grunts and digs his chin into the muscle at her neck. “Sometimes you have damn good words.”

She grins, relief easing the knot in her lungs just enough to let her breathe again. “Good, you must be rubbing off on me.” He’s still buried in her neck, squeezing hard, and she combs her fingers through his hair, holding onto him. “I’ve had my own darknesses, Rick, and you’ve walked me right through them. I’m not going anywhere. I may be walking a few steps ahead of you, but it’s only to lure you forward.”

“You’re a damn fine carrot.”

She laughs, feeling a lot better now, a lot better, oh God, the truth of those lines and how real it felt. “Don’t you forget that.”

“I’m calling Burke now.”

She hands him her phone.

-----

(If you or someone you love is dealing with depression or suicidal thoughts, if you’re unable to articulate your feelings or cutting in order to feel, please please ask for help. Any adult. Ask any ADULT for help. No one thinks less of you. No one will turn you away. It might take some time to get the right kind of help, it might be frustrating, a long road, it might come back on you later, but you are worth it.)