#Seeing whole books being thrown in the fire is such a disturbing sight that calls for such a visceral response in me 😭����😭

[sskk-manifesto]

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[iliveiloveiwrite]

Want nobody else

Request: Hi can I request a Draco Malfoy x Gryffindor reader where they’re dating in secret & Draco decided to spend the holiday at Hogwarts instead of going back to the manor because he wants to spend more time with the reader but surprise surprise Narcissa decided to drop in to his dorm just to find them cuddling in front of the fireplace or something. She’s scared of course but Narcissa turns out to be very kind & welcoming and the three of them spend the day together and even invited her to come to the Malfoy Manor anytime she’d like Thank you! - @queenofmankind

A/N: I loved this request bc I am a sucker for secret relationships, like that is my shit. I’ll not lie, these last couple of days I have been really doubting my writing ability, but nevertheless, I hope I have done your request justice. It’s really fluffy bc I love fluffy Draco so much omg. Enjoy! (Title is from Liam Payne - Midnight)

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (Gryffindor)

Warnings: one swear word

Word count: 2.1k

Being pulled into a supply cupboard was not how you wanted to start your morning, but it happened, nonetheless.

You’re about to start shouting when a familiar voice whispers, “Lumos.”

The tip of his wand starts to glow with a pale light, and you’re greeted to the sight of your boyfriend smiling down at you.

“Draco! You can’t just go about pulling me into supply cupboards.”

“Why not?” He asks, crowding you against the wall. He’s so close to you that his breath fans over your face.

“What if we get caught? What if someone sees us?”

Draco shrugs, leaning in to kiss you but his lips land on your cheek when you move your head at the last minute.

“We both agreed we would keep this a secret. That means you can’t pull me into supply cupboards between classes.”

“I know, but would you believe me if I say I did it because I missed you?”

“I would, but only because I missed you too.” You reply, fisting a hand in the front of his robes to pull him in for a kiss.

He hums into the kiss, pressing you even further into the wall. Your arms wrap around his neck; one hand making its way into his hair, pulling lightly drawing a groan from his mouth. He responds by biting your bottom lip.

“The bell is going ring any minute.” You whisper against his lips.

Draco nods in acknowledgement but kisses you again and continues to do so until the aforementioned bell rings.

You pull away from him with a peck to his lips. You smooth down your robes and hair to make it look as if you haven’t been making out with the Slytherin Prince between classes.

His hand grabs yours as he tugs you in to kiss you again, “I’ve got to go,” You say, pecking his lips one more time, silently loving how he chases your lips for another, “I’ve got Divination and those stairs are killer. I’ll see you later?”

“Definitely. I’ll meet you in the astronomy tower after dinner.”

You blow him a kiss which he catches with a laugh before rushing to Divination. Professor Trelawney had a thing for making latecomers make the first prediction of the lesson.

-----

The closer it got to the holidays, the slower the school day became. In every lesson, you zoned out, finding it hard to keep your attention on the topic of the class. Instead, daydreaming of a certain blonde-haired Slytherin.

Being in a relationship with Draco was the last thing you expected to happen to you. A member of Gryffindor and raised a muggle, you didn’t think for one moment that Draco would look in your direction.

A friendship blossomed between the two of you after being assigned a paired essay in History of Magic on Gellert Grindelwald’s threat to the International Statute of Secrecy. Draco was apprehensive at first; his walls securely built around him. However, as time went on and progress on the essay was good, those walls steadily came down and he started to have feelings for you. He just didn’t know you felt the same way.

You couldn’t help but feel sad as you finished writing the final sentence of the essay. Your time with Draco was up and things were to return to how they were before.

He didn’t want that; you didn’t want that.

Whilst waiting for the ink to dry, Draco took it upon himself to confess that he didn’t want this to end. His happiest time of the week were the hours he spent with you, but he would understand if you didn’t feel the same way. Draco never got a chance to finish his sentence – you had pulled him in for a clumsy but sweet kiss. It was after you had pulled away that you both agreed to keep the relationship secret for fear of the reaction from his parents and your house.

A ball of paper hitting the back of your head breaks you from your reverie. Turning to see who threw it, you smile as you see Draco staring intensely at his textbook.

Unscrewing the wad of paper you read his recognisable scrawl: ‘What are you thinking about?’

You don’t take the time to think of a reply, simply writing: ‘You, like always.’ It’s worth it when you see the blush on his face as he reads your reply.

---------

The astronomy tower had always been a favourite of Draco’s. Somewhere he could come, think and not be disturbed. If you ever had trouble finding him through the school, your first port of call would always be the astronomy tower. In the early weeks of your relationship, it became your go-to meet up spot.

Climbing the stairs to the top of the tower was always worth it when you saw him waiting for you; the breath stolen from your lungs when his eyes landed upon you and he smiled.

Tonight was no different; the butterflies in your stomach had turned into a full-blow riot, but you knew they would settle the moment your eyes landed on Draco.

He’s already waiting; leaning against the railing, looking out across the view. The astronomy tower held the perfect vista of Black Lake and the Scottish Highlands behind it. You sometimes questioned how you went to school in such a wonderful place.

Draco turns at the sound of your footsteps, a smile already making its way across his face. He holds a hand out to you and you are quick to fold your hand into his, tangling your fingers together as you do so. He brings your joined hands up to his lips, dropping a small kiss to the back of your hand before letting them fall between the two of you.

“I liked your note, by the way.”

You laugh, “I could tell. That was some blush.”

He grins at you, savouring the sound of your laughter, “I like the fact that you always think of me.”

You hum, “I like it too, but I’m going to have to pay some attention to my work, I think it’s getting jealous.”

Draco pulls you into his side; his arm now wrapping around your shoulder. He presses not one, but two kisses into your hair before saying, “I’m staying at Hogwarts over the holidays.”

“You are?” You ask, your eyes wide, excitement starting to build.

He nods, confirming, “My parents want to go travelling for those two weeks, so I said I’d stay at Hogwarts instead.”

“They didn’t question it?”

“My mother wanted me to go with them, but my father wasn’t bothered. Besides, it means I get to stay here with you which is exactly why I told them no.”

Your body warms with those words, as if they take root in your heart.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“No!” You shout, wincing as you realise just how loud your voice is. Draco has a shit-eating grin across his face. “What I mean to say is, I don’t mind at all. I get to have you all to myself for two weeks.”

“Yes, you do.” Draco murmurs before pulling you in for a kiss; effectively ending all forms of conversation for now.

------

The first week of the holidays, it is decided quickly that you were to stay in Draco’s room since his dorm mates had all gone home for the holiday.

Waking up to Draco is a whole new experience, and you can’t help but love every minute of it. His blonde haired messed up, his voice gravelly with sleep. Your mind flashes to ten, fifteen years from now – hearing that voice whispering sweet nothings to you in the morning.

You shift in his bed, moving the covers from your body when Draco’s arm clamps itself around your waist, pinning you to the bed.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“Oh?”

“Nope, you’re staying in bed with me all day.” He says, rolling on top of you, bracing himself with his elbows. He runs his nose along the expanse of your neck before placing light, butterfly kisses across your jaw – teasing you, driving you to the brink of insanity.

Your legs wrap themselves around him, a hand tugging at his t-shirt as he finally presses his lips to yours.

You don’t leave the bed that day.

------

After that morning, Draco has a hard time keeping his hands off you. Pulling you into empty classrooms or rarely visited stacks in the library. You’ve had to apologise to Madame Pince more times that you’d like to admit – but seeing this side of Draco, unafraid of what people think of him, it’s addicting. You’ve cornered him in the Slytherin common room just as much.

-----

The second week of the holiday starts blissfully; you wake wrapped around Draco each morning and you can’t help but want this for the rest of your life. To be able to wake up to him for the rest of your life, you would count it as a life well lived.

Sitting on one of the many couches dotted about the Slytherin common room, you read a muggle book you brought from home. It tells the story of a huntress taken away by a faerie in payment for the death of the faerie’s sentries – the huntress soon starts to fall for her captor, and she promises to break the curse on his land. It keeps you enthralled as Draco reads the muggle classic Frankenstein after you introduced it to him some months ago.

The fire is roaring, Draco’s hand doodles aimless patterns on the top of your thigh from where your legs are thrown across his. You catch his hand every time it travels higher up your thigh; not missing the smirk on his face as you do so.

Neither of you think to look up from your respective books as the door to the common room opens. Neither of you think to look up until a delicate cough breaks your bubble.

“Mother,” Draco greets, standing up from the couch, pulling you up with him. His arm automatically going to your waist, as if it belonged there.

“Draco, who is this?” Narcissa asks, not taking her eyes off you.

Draco’s arm remains tight around your waist, “This is my girlfriend, (Y/N).”

Her next question is directed at you, “How long have you been seeing my son?”

“Almost six months now.” You answer, keeping your voice steady. This was not how you envisioned finally meeting his parents.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes, I think I do.” You answer honestly. Draco’s hand squeezing your waist tightly.

Narcissa smiles, her eyes now on Draco’s arm wrapped tightly around your waist. She smooths out an invisible crease in her dress before saying, “Then that’s all that matters.”

“You don’t care that I’m a Gryffindor?” You ask, the words flying out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I care if Draco is happy and by the looks of it, he is. Your house doesn’t matter to me. Now I came here to see my son, and I’ve met his girlfriend as well. I say we take a walk into Hogsmeade and get some lunch – how does that sound?”

“Of course, mother.” Draco states, “I’ll grab our coats.” He kisses your cheek before rushing to his dormitory.

-------

Lunch with Narcissa went brilliantly, if you could say so yourself. She declined Draco’s offer of walking back to Hogwarts with the two of you; deciding to apparate from Hogsmeade instead. She kissed your cheek before she left and extended an invitation to visit Malfoy Manor whenever you wanted – she wanted to get to know the girl who her son had fallen in love with.

Walking back to Hogwarts, yours and Draco’s hands swing between you. If this was bliss, you didn’t want to know anything else. If this was being in love, then you didn’t want to be proved wrong. All you wanted was the boy walking next to you – for the rest of your life, if possible.

“(Y/N)?” Draco asks, coming to a stop in the middle of the path.

You hum, “Yes, Draco?”

“What would you say to us going public? Not hiding anymore?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Draco speaks over you. “I’m tired of having to pretend that I don’t want you, that I don’t love you. Because I do, I love you, a lot. I don’t think we have anything to be afraid of now, my mother knows, and everything will be okay.” He wraps his arms around you, “I don’t want to hide anymore.”

You throw your arms around his neck, tugging him down for a long, unhurried kiss. His hands tighten on you whilst yours find purchase in his hair. It’s a long time before you pull away from the other; completely unaware of how many people have hurried past you.

Your hand strokes his cheek as you whisper, “I love you too. Let’s not hide anymore.”

****

Draco taglist: @cheapglitter 

[underappreciated-bee]

Incompatible Intentions

Chapter One

A/N: This is a Sokka x female!reader and Zuko x female!reader. This is one of my first stories so please enjoy. Also, Y/N is 10 years old in this chapter, making Zuko and Azula 11 and 9 respectively. The year is 94AG.

Can be read on both A03 and Wattpad (same username)

SUMMARY:

Y/N was a young girl born in the Fire Nation: taught that it was the greatest nation in the world. She grew up with these ideologies engraved in her mind. As her father was a close trusted advisor of the Fire Lord Ozai, she would often spend time with the young crowned prince, Zuko.

After her father dares to disagree with the Fire Lord in a meeting, opposing to the invasion of the water tribes, he and his family were banished from the Fire Nation, never allowed to return again. They seek refuge in the Southern Water Tribe, however not for long, as the Fire Nation soon would raid…

WARNING: N/A if you find any please tell me

Also sorry for any spelling mistakes or typing errors. I have proofread this, but sometimes it just skips over my head. 

Status: IN PROGRESS

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Y/N- your name

Y/F/N- your father’s name

Y/L/N- your last name

If you’re on Chrome, you can use this extension to personalise your names.

WC: 1.9K

Zuko's eyes slowly began to follow the gentle movements of the young turtle duck in front of him. Its feet lightly paddled in the shallow water of the pond as it tried desperately to create enough momentum to reach its mother that sat a distance away. Zuko smiled fondly at the creature, breaking off another small piece of the bread in his hand, throwing it gracefully in the direction of its mother- enticing it. 

This had been going on for a while: Zuko feeding the turtle ducks and Y/N staring mindlessly at the cerulean sky, neither of them speaking; only sitting in comfortable silence.  

Y/N and Zuko had known each other for just under a year, first having met one another at a birthday party for Zuko's grandfather. 

Y/N's father, Admiral Y/F/N Y/L/N, helped aid the Fire Lord in his war efforts against the other nations; so for the Fire Lord's 93rd birthday, he and his family were invited by the Fire Lord himself to come to celebrate.

 That was the first time that Y/N and Zuko had met. 

Neither of them talked the entire night, only ever sharing momentary glances with the other before briskly turning away. It had been during the weeks following when they would first speak. 

Y/N's father had brought her to the palace with him, having promised that the meeting wouldn't take up much of his time and that the two of them would be able to go and eat Mochi straight after. Begrudgingly, she followed her father and waited for him in the palace garden. 

Warily, her feet dangled off of the bench you sat on- too short to reach the ground- but that was to be expected from an 8-year-old. Happily, she watched as the turtle ducks raced around the pond, your eyes tracing their movements; they seemed relaxed- content, even.

Zuko felt relaxed as he walked into the palace garden. His hand clutching the bag of seeds his mother had handed him, ready to feed the ducks that day. Smiling, he walked into the garden, eyeing his surroundings in hope that Azula wouldn't be there. 

Abruptly, his feet stopped beneath him: catching the sight of a young girl- around his age- sitting alone on the corner bench. He had no idea who she was, or even if she had been allowed in there, but that didn't stop him from approaching her. 

"Hi," Zuko first spoke up, waving his hand awkwardly in the air at the girl.

 She looked up startled, her face morphing into one of shock as she realised who had just spoken to her. Immediately, she stood up and bowed at the prince

"P-Prince Zuko," she stammered. "I am so sorry if I've disturbed you. I didn't realise you'd be here. I can go and wait for my father somewhere else." The words flowed off her tongue swiftly, her nervousness apparent.

Y/N had never seen the young Prince up close in person before. Sure, she had seen pictures of him around the Capital, and she had noticed him a couple of weeks ago at the Fire Lord's Birthday, but despite her father's position, she had hardly ever met anyone other than the Fire Lord himself.

"My friends call me Zuko." he smiled softly.

"Oh. Well, uhm, Zuko- My name is Y/N," she smiled shyly at him, timidly putting her hair behind her ear. Zuko had picked up on her discomfort,  and so he started to walk towards the pond to spare her of any more of the awkward conversation. 

Carefully, he sat down under the tree in the centre of the garden and started to feed the ducks. Y/N only watched on fondly as the turtle ducks swam towards the seeds he had thrown in their direction. 

"Do you want to come and sit next to me?" Zuko asked the girl, turning around to look at her, "Promise I'm not as intimidating as I look." 

The young girl smiled timidly, she wasn't even really supposed to be in the garden, let alone be talking to a member of the Royal Family. Glancing between him and the bread in his hand, she spoke up, more confident than before, " Only if you let me feed the Turtle Ducks."

Y/N watched the sky peacefully. As time passed, she had learned to feel relaxed in Zuko'd presence; no longer was she as tense and unnerved as she once was. She looked over at him quietly, still feeding the Ducks, she thought. Her head shook slightly before finally breaking the silence.

"Are we not going to talk today?" She asked concerned. He simply shrugged, unsure of what to say. 

He seemed unusual today, not his typical self, and that to no fault of his own. Zuko now being a young 10-year-old Prince had found himself with fewer responsibilities than he'd like. Despite his countless pleas to his father to allow him to be more involved in the war effort, he would always be turned away as 'he wasn't old enough to understand'.

"Sorry I just..." he paused briefly, deciding whether or not to say something, "...I have a lot on my mind, " he admitted, giving her a distressed look.

She glanced at him, concerned,  "D'you wanna talk about it?"

Before they could discuss any further, they were unpleasantly interrupted.

"Hey Zuzu," Azula gleamed as she walked into the garden. 

Zuko sighed heavily at the sight of his sister. He had tried avoiding her the entire day in hopes she would catch interest in other things.

"Hi Azula," Y/N looked at the girl brightly, whilst Zuko only mumbled irritatedly under his breath.

 Azula sat down beside Y/N, looking at her quizically, "I didn't expect you to be here today," her tone more similar to that of a question.

"My father had a last-minute meeting he had to attend.  And since we were on our way to the market he brought me along with him." she smiled kindly at Azula. 

In the past year, Y/N  had found herself inside the Fire Nation palace more often than she'd first liked. Her father would regularly be called in to advise the Fire Lord on some new plan for invading the Earth Kingdom or the Water Tribes. Y/N didn't mind it though, because every time he would have to go to the palace, she'd join him.

It was somewhat of a ritual between the two. Whenever her father had been called to the palace, Y/N would happily join him. At first, she did so because she wished to see the Turtle Ducks. After a while, she realised that she liked talking to Zuko. 

Sometimes, however, Zuko wouldn't be in the garden; only his sister Azula. At first, she was a whole lot less welcoming than her brother. And even though Azula wouldn't admit it, eventually, she too began to like Y/N. She liked the fact that there was another girl, around her age, in the palace. 

It made her feel less alone. 

Azula had sat down beside Y/N and started to pluck at the grass, viciously ripping it up with her fingers before dropping it back on the ground: then repeating. 

As she continued playing with the grass, a bundle of daisies caught her eye. Azula scooted closer to them. Then she started to rip the daises out of the ground, as she had done with the grass. 

By this point, Zuko finally began to notice his surroundings and looked over at Y/N, who remained unmoving on the grass, sprawled out like a starfish. He smiled kindly at the sight before turning his attention to his sister. 

"Azula you shouldn't be doing that! Leave the flowers alone."

Zuko's sudden increase in dynamics caused Y/N to look at the two, unsure of what was going on. Her face was laced in perplexion as she tried to decipher their interaction. It was only when she noticed the daisies in Azula's hands that Y/N moved closer to her to inspect. Slowly, she picked up a daisy off of the ground, and then another, and another; joining Azula in her conquest 

Zuko gawked at them both in complete shock, unsure of how to proceed.

"Look Zuko, it's okay," Y/N smiled, lifting a beautifully crafted daisy chain. "We can make friendship bracelets out of them." She smiled kindly at Zuko, who had a shocked look on his face. He glanced at his sister, seeking comfort in the fact she looked just as baffled as him.

"A what?" Azula spoke up. 

"A friendship bracelet" Y/N repeated. "It's self-explanatory really. It's a bracelet that friends wear to symbolise their friendship." As she began to dig her nails in the stem of a daisy, to thread the next one through, " and we can make them out of daisies." 

From that day on, it became almost like a tradition for the three to sit down together in the garden, creating daisy chains in honour of their friendship. Because despite how long it'd been since they'd seen one another, or even if Zuko and Azula weren't on speaking terms. It would be something they all enjoyed doing, together. 

 A couple of weeks had passed since that day when Y/N walked into the palace with the brightest smile on her face. In her hands, two perfectly packaged presents. She bid farewell to her father before giddily running off into the garden to meet with her friends.  

Azula, sat on the bench, was reading a book and Zuko sat underneath the tree, as he watched the Turtle Ducks paddle in the water. Y/N skipped into the garden, standing in the middle of the room, the cleared her throat. 

Both the siblings looked up at their friend and quickly ran up to her, forgetting what they were doing.

 "Y/N!" they both exclaimed in unison, rushing to be the first to embrace her. After the three of them had hugged and the excitement had died down, Y/N looked at the two, "I got you both something."

The two siblings remained confused as they began to wonder what could their friend have possibly gotten them.

Y/N brought out two presents from behind her back, giving them to the two. They both looked at Y/N, then at each other, unsure of what to expect from the girl.

As the two opened their gifts, Y/N spoke, "I wanted to get the two of you something for being my best friends. So I decided to make it meaningful."

 Azula was the first to open her gift, seeing a red string bracelet with a silver small sun charm on it. She looked down in the box, in awe of the jewellery. 

"I decided that the best thing to get you would be the most important part of a daisies life cycle, " Y/N said as she showed the two a bracelet similar to theirs on her hand. 

Unlike Azula who had a sun charm and Zuko who wore a water droplet:  Y/N had a daisy. Showing them her charm she began to explain her gifts. 

"I have a daisy. Azula is my sun," she said nodding to her friend

"And Zuko is my water." 

The two children looked at the girl in front of them, both grinning from ear to ear. They placed the red string on their wrist and looked back up to their friend.

" I wanted you to have these so that you would be reminded of our friendship. That no matter where we go and no matter how far apart we are. You will always be my best friends." 

No matter what.

[voltagesmutter]

The Definition Of Perfect

Prompt: Victor - I’ve been thinking about doing this all day.” “My cum’s dripping out, let me push it back in you.”

 You had been awoken from your peaceful slumber by your husband placing welcoming kisses against your shoulder, softly grinding his erection against you as hands began to wander up your body. 

“Mrs.Li,” He effortlessly whispered against you, sending pleasurable shivers across your skin.

“Mmm.. say it again,” You yawn softly, enjoying the loving sensation from your husband.

“You know what day it is, Mrs.Li,” He chuckled softly against you, his lips moving up your neck as his hand traced over your silk nightie strap, pushing it off your shoulder. Every-time he said it, you still couldn’t believe it, you were Mrs.Li, Victor's wife and you had been for over a year. You turned in his arms to face him, bringing your left hand to rest against his bare chest as he ran his thumb over your wedding ring. You had decided it was time to start expanding your family, trying to conceive a child after your first wedding anniversary which had passed a little over two months ago. Today was when you were most fertile, a peak time for conception and Victor had no other plans than to bury himself in you all day. 

Your early morning love making session was savoured and sweet, the weight of him pinning you against the bed as he dove into you with a loving pace, your fingertips digging into his lower back as you both found a release together. As you basked in your blissful afterglow, he grabbed a pillow lifting your waist and propping it under you in an attempt to stop the mixed essence from spreading down over your thighs. 

“My cum’s dripping out, let me push it back in you.” He whispered into a kiss against your bent knee before thrusting back into you, another passionate round beginning. 

He made sure to pamper you and tend to your every need, all he wanted was for you to lie in bed with your legs up high to stop any essential sperm from escaping from you. You laughed highly at the idea, telling him it was nonsense but quickly changed your mind when he offered you pudding in return for the action. After what felt like forever, it was an hour max, you could finally leave the bed, finding your husband reading fertility books in the living room. Sneaking up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed sneak-attack kisses over his face with a giggle.

“What are you doing, we agreed for you to be in bed dummy,” He chuckled, pulling you over the edge of the sofa to sit on his lap. Everything about him was perfect, he was like a god amongst men and he was all yours. Admiring him: the sharpness of his jawline, fresh from being shaved earlier that morning, the casual jumper he opted for instead of the suit attire, the softness of his voice, only for you to hear such sweet words to be spoken with, the illuminating lavender eyes that held more love for you than any other object amongst the world. Your husband, your lover, your best friend, your soulmate.

“I missed you,” You express, running a hand softly against his cheek with a beaming smile.

“I love you,” His soft tone pressed matching kisses to your lips.

“I love you too,” You managed through kisses, positioning yourself to straddle him as his large hands bunched up your nightie. One hand pressed just above your lower back, keeping you close to him, the one holding the side of your ass as you rode him, lips never leaving each other as you climaxed twice before he pulled you down, holding you tight against him as he spilled balls deep inside you. 

Giving yourselves both a small refractory period, heavy pants filling your home, readying yourself for another round when the phone rang. With a frustrated groan Victor answered as he pressed a kiss to your hand, the blissful expression on his face dropping and you knew he had been called into the office. He made it extremely clear that he was not to be disturbed from his day off unless it was extreme circumstances, his exact words were ‘Unless the building is collapsing, the stock market plummets or the company comes under siege from an alien attack’. Victor was not missing a single minute of being by your side at your limited fertile peak. 

“It’s fine, Victor, go,” You reassuring nod, straightening his tie as he got dressed into his usual business attire and pressing a kiss to his lips as he pouted so softly, “We have the whole night to continue when you're back”. Grumpily muttering under his breath, you watch your husband leave out the front door, but not before turning and giving you a heart warming smile. His heart tore slightly watching his beautiful wife sit on the sofa egging him on to go before Goldman went into meltdown, he was determined to fire the idiot for causing a mess and pulling him away from his blissful wife. He raced to the office in record time, getting everything sorted and fixed within a few hours before rushing home, running nearly every red light on the way.

You lounged around the house, before cosying up on the sofa, these intense sessions really took it out of you and within a few minutes you fell into a peaceful slumber amongst the pillows. You awoke from the sound of screeching tires and the door begging thrown wide open, Victor slamming in behind him as he threw off his tie and hastily removed his clothes. You ran into his arms, lips pressing fiercely against his as your hands greedily tugged at his belt.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day” He mumbled against your lips, pushing you backwards into the bedroom, his hands fumbling to get his shirt off.

“You’ve only been gone a few hours,” You replied with a moan as he took your bottom lip in his teeth.

“I should never have had to leave your side,” He growls, reaching down and taking the back of your thighs indicating you to jump which you followed, wrapping your legs around his bare torso, your hands finally freeing him off his belt. The thud of his trousers hit the floor as he pressed you against the bedroom wall, lips pressed swiftly around your neck as he pulled off your nightie once more exposing your naked body to him. Lips met in a frenzy, tongues beginning for access into each others mouths as yours hands tugged at his boxers, desperate for him to fill you again as you grinded over his hard arousal. 

“Don’t hold back,” You whimpered into his mouth, feeling the thin material that was between you being removed to be replaced with his searing member against you. He buried his face against the crook of your neck, sucking on the delicate pulse of your skin, one hand pressed against the wall near your head as the other wrapped around your waist flushing your body tightly to him. He thrusted in as delicate moans feel from both of you, moving his hips up against yours in an urgent manner, bringing you to see stars within movements. A heavy cry of his name as your back arched, legs tightening around him, pulling him tighter against you as he low grunts grew in volume. Your fingers buried deep in his hair as he bit at your neck, stilling as you felt the throbbing inside you, his seed releasing deep inside you as his sweaty body held you tight against him. 

More rounds followed into the night until you were physically unable to take anymore, your legs trembling like a baby foal when you tried to stand up, forcing you to stay in bed the following day at your physical ability to not walk.

 “Someone’s needy today,” Victor chuckles, as you snuggle close to him, his hand pressing the swell of your stomach.

“If you could please tell your son to stop fidgeting, that would be great,” You laugh but freezing and clasping your hands to your mouth, eyes widening. Victor's movements stopping as he looks at you the words ‘son’ falling from his mouth and you meekly nod. 

“I found out at the last scan, I know you wanted to wait for the surprise but I couldn’t wait, please don’t be angry,” You blushed, Victor wrapping his arms tightly around you and pulling you close to him.

“Angry? Why would I ever? A boy? We’re having a boy?” He responds, a slight waver in his voice as he inhaled the scent of your glowing skin.  

“We’re having a boy,” You softly weep, overcome with emotions, Victor pulling back and pressing his hand against the blossoming bump. He took in the sight of his radiant wife, not far long into her second trimester, the love he had for her swelling inside him. 

The definition of perfection, held in his arms.

Enjoy my work, visit my masterlist here. 

[karoiseka]

Starlight

((5.3 Spoilers!! I figured this should take place before the events of 5.4, just... because.  Have a sappy, Happy Starlight story!))

"It's snowing!" G'raha's surprised, yet excited voice carried to where Karo was still buried in a mountain of blankets on the large bed in their suite at the Rising Stones.  He had gotten up to tend to the fire, but the odd light from the windows had called to him, beckoning to view the world transformed by the thick layer of snow that was continuing to pile up.  He stood transfixed by the sight outside, red tail swishing--betraying his emotions as he lifted his right hand to the glass-paneled door leading out to the balcony.  Even though they had made the trek North to Coerthas since he had returned, and there was plenty of snow there, Mor Dhona had not received more than  a light dusting, melting almost as soon as it had fallen.

His braid, messy from sleep, whipped around as he turned to face the bard still in the warmth of the bed.  Karo noticed that he was rubbing his right arm again as he fully turned to face her--she was sure it was a left over habit from when it was solid crystal and almost completely without feeling.  She smiled at him, still not fully awake, watching as he self-consciously stopped and with a calming breath walked back over to the bed to perch on the edge of it.  Leaning over, he cupped her face with his hand, kissing her forehead then lips gently, fingers running along the crystal hair tassels that never left the ends of her braids.

“Happy Starlight, my Star,” G’raha’s voice had dropped to the quiet calm tone, the one sounding closer to when he wore the title Crystal Exarch.  The melding of his two personalities was going well, the older of his memories grounding the enthusiastic youth that had never left the Source.  The joy in being back, and alive, seeped into all of his actions though, making every venture new and wondrous, optimism overflowing.  

"It looks like some gifts have been delivered under the tree," the boyish mischievousness was back in his voice as he continued to play with Karo's hair as she slowly came to full alertness--the Warrior of Light happy to be somewhere that it was unnecessary to do all at once. It had been one thing after another almost consistently since she had joined the Scions, so she reveled in the occasions she could take time to be lazy. It was definitely one of the first Starlights in several years that didn't feel overshadowed by melancholy or missing friends. Leaning into his hand with a small sound of contentment and a murmur of a ‘Happy Starlight’ in return, Karo smiled, her expression matching his.

"Well then, let's see what the Saint of Nymeia has left us!" Wriggling out of the nest of blankets took a few moments, as playfulness on both their parts didn't make for an easy job of it--wrestling and tickling, burning off early morning energy before finally grabbing a blanket to wrap up in and moving down the loft stairs to the main room where the decorations glowed in the early morning light.  Karo rushed the last few steps down, blanket falling to the floor, as her eyes caught one of the waiting gifts, glowing faintly on the table next to the tree.

“Raha!! How?  But--these are from Rak’tika!!” Karo stumbled over the words as she carefully picked up the vase of blue flowers, the same that lit the path to Fanow, now here on the Source in her home.  G’raha beamed at her, his voice full of pride that she obviously liked the gift.

“You may be Feo Ul’s [sapling], but your [branch] still likes to do nice things for you, and being near you, she could hear me call as well.  I remembered how you told me you loved these flowers, and wanted to make sure you had a bouquet.  She enchanted them so they will always smell that sweet and will never wilt.  Her only request is that you don’t forget to call on her.”  Karo had the good grace to look abashed at that, knowing how many times she had frankly forgotten the pact she had with the Fae, or even just in ignorance of how much she could safely call on them.  Taking another whiff of the blooms, Karo placed the vase down on the fireplace mantle, mentaly sending a burst of joy down the connection she shared with the Fae King before clearing her throat and turning with a package in her hands for G’raha.  The paper it was wrapped in was not smooth, or secured well, but it covered the gift adequately.  Holding out to him, her ears dipped and her tail twitched nervously as he closed the distance between them to take the gift from her hands with a smile.

“I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably already heard and researched it all before, but I hoped there would be at least a few insights you hadn’t heard yet,” Karo’s babble had started as G’raha had peeled the paper from the journal he now held in his hands.  The brown leather cover was embossed with the red Star that had caged the ancient primal, and inside was a neatly written account of her personal thoughts and discoveries, including rough sketches of the wonders therein.

“I did my best to remember all we had found about Bahamut when exploring the shards of Dalamud, and I got Alisaie and Alphinaud’s help with some of the details near the end.  There was a lot of Allag technology in there that I haven’t seen elsewhere, and I know I gave a report when we were done, and you might actually remember more than I learned--” G’raha stepped forward closing the distance between them and stopping her rambling with a deep kiss.  Karo froze in place before leaning into him, relaxing and letting her nerves dissipate.  

“It’s amazing,” the scholar beamed at her, holding the tome to the side as he pulled her into a tight embrace.  “No matter what I’ve learned so far, having your first-hand account, along with notes from the twins about what you found there is priceless.  I’m going to enjoy reading this.”  He kissed her forehead as they were so close then looked back down at the book, running a hand across the cover, smiling.  Placing it carefully on the table, they headed back to the little kitchenette for some breakfast before getting ready to head out for the day.

                                                   --K--

Donning their warm Starlight robes (G’raha had received one as a gift this year), they headed down to the main rooms of the Rising Stones, hand in hand as they greeted their friends.  It seemed that the newest Scion wasn’t the only one to receive a home-made robe, as each of Scions were bedecked in a rainbow of colors all of matching Starlight garb.  Tataru in her typical pink was buzzing from group to group, ensuring everyone was fed and happy before the core group headed outside in a fit of energy to help clear Mor Dhona’s streets of the piled snow--especially around the aetheryte right outside their doors. 

The snow was still coming down lightly, sun peeking between the clouds making the whole town sparkle.  Not to anyone's surprise though, when the work was nearly done and the afternoon stretching on, the first snowball was thrown, sparking a heated battle.  No one would admit to starting it, but the group paired off with Alisaie, Y'shtola, Krile, and Karo on one team, Alphinaud, Thancred, G'raha and Uriangier  rounding out the second. 

The mock battle lasted several bells, with the townsfolk cheering on the Scions in waves, occasionally joining in. Every time it seemed to be winding down, someone else would get a lucky throw in, and the melee would begin anew. Finally winded, cheeks red with glee and exertion, a truce was struck--as the Warrior of Light was tackled into a snowbank by the combined efforts of G'raha and Thancred.  The three of them lay there laughing, Karo holding them fast to her, enjoying having them close.  Kissing them both on the cheek, she took the proffered hand from Alisaie helping her out of the snow, and pulled the younger girl into a hug before they all gathered around a fire that had been set up.

By ones and twos the group slowly retired for the evening, Karo and G’raha left alone to watch the flames flicker in the twilight.  The Miqo’te pair leaned against each other, tails twinning, worn out from the snow battle from the afternoon.  As a shiver ran through the Bard, G’raha hugged her extra close before standing and tugging her up after him.  Naught a word said as he led her back into the Rising Stones, and above to their shared suite.

                                                    --K--

“Comfy?” G’raha looked down at Karo who was now sprawled across the couch they had ended up on, head resting on his leg.  They had both changed into something that wasn’t soaked with snow, and settled in for the evening curled up together to end Starlight as they had started it.  Karo nodded almost imperceptibly, however the slight purr of happiness reached her lover’s ears as all traces of tension left her body.  He knew he didn’t have much energy left either, but the draw of the journal gifted to him earlier was not to be ignored.  Opening it, he reached down to caress one of his shining Star’s ears, amazed once more that she was at his side after all that had happened.  This had truly been the most magical, amazing Starlight he had celebrated.  Getting to stay at her side, watching her laugh, he wanted more.  To get to know her even better, know what kept that smile dancing upon her lips, to know what made her heart race, and her favorite everything.  Using a tendril of magic, he tugged at the blanket at the other side of the couch, using the magic it to cover her without having to move or disturb her one onze.  

“Happy Starlight, my love,” he whispered, turning to the book in his hands, letting her take him on yet another adventure with her words.

[greatcheesiness]

Hope: MSBY

Synopsis: In which a shooting star decided to make their prayers come true…

Characters: Atsumu/Sakusa/Hinata/Bokuto/Child! Y/n (little cameo) They’re all the same age except Y/n.

Genre: Angst, hopeful, Sad, a bit haunting at the end idk how that happened, mysterious, fate

W.c: 2k9

Moral of the story: Don’t think like this kids. Life is very valuable tsk.

[a/n] pfft I’m back y’all. Y’all missed me? Lmao no one asked. I have arrived with another short piece to satisfy your masochistic selves. I had no Wi-Fi and I thought I wasn’t gonna live a normal life. I was also a lazy bean who promised to work out but ended up eating Danish bread. They’re really good ngl. I did not proofread this so I am sorry for the errors. Sleep deprived again. I didn’t proofread this, sorry.

edit: this is a repost. I don’t think this was sent properly.

Little sparks emerged from the blazing mixture of red and orange. The colour of fiery and passion. But in the middle, there was a vibrant colour of yellow. Even if a person is angry and the things they do will not go as passionate, there’s always a little bit of hope. That was what Sakusa interpreted as he observed the fire. The ashy smoke floated upward into the sky and turned invisible where they will not be seen again. That is what they want, right? Just to die out...

“I’m going to find some more wood,” Bokuto said out of the blue and stood up from the barky log he just sat on. Hinata got a fright that he almost fell off of his side of the log. Bokuto then ran towards the darkened woods. Hinata’s eyes widened. He scuttled backwards and jogged into the woods, just to make sure he doesn’t wander off. Just to make sure he’s safe.

“Kotaro, wait up!” he shouted and the woods mimicked his voice of worry. It was a cold night. A blanket of navy covered the sky with a sprinkle of shimmering stars.

“I hope they don’t get lost. I heard that this is the largest forest in our area or perhaps the whole country,” the blonde head muttered. His fingers fiddling on to silver key necklace dearest to his heart. It was a gift given by his grandma just the day before her decease. That day felt like the day he lost a true friend. Sakusa stared into the sky. To become one of those shiny sequences high up the vast navy.

Small, slender, slim sticks were thrown into the fire by Atsumu. His eyes granted no mercy as he stared at them burning in the little hell he created. Sakusa could see the reflection of the fire in his chocolate eyes. Knowing the reason, he sighed. It conveyed his feelings. His pent up fury.

The long silence was interrupted by a trivial question. “Have you ever thought of what you want to become as you grow older?” Atsumu wondered. He had never really heard or knew much about Sakusa despite having each other’s presence in existence for a while. He blinked, his long lashes brushed through the air. “I don’t know,” he simply replied. His voice so curt that Atsumu’s feelings were hurt. He clutched his heart with a pain expression to emphasise the dramatic. “Omi kun, y’know that’s not the answer I want,” he whined at him. There he goes again, Sakusa thought.  

Atsumu hummed as he looked at the fire “Y’know.., it has always been my dream to become an astronaut. What do ya think Omi kun?” Sakusa scrunched his face at the thought. “What should I think??” The only responsive thought he had for that confession was that it was unbelievable to be true. He thought he wanted to become a volleyball player and join the national team. Maybe get the hot girlfriend of his dreams while he’s at it. But an astronaut? Does he even have the grad-?

“Haha if only I had the grades. I can see it right through you Omi kun,” he smirked as he pointed the stick at him held by his fingers. “To bad I’m not a smartass like my twin brother. Such a nerd without glasses,” he murmured at the mentions of his twin.

“Achieving high grades doesn’t make you a stereotypical ne-“

“I said what I said, Omi kun. I said what I said”

Sakusa stayed quiet after that. He had nothing else to add after that mild conversation. His eyes lingered at the book lying on the grassy ground. Atsumu’s five year old diary. To this day, he still remembered the contents inked in those pages. Hinata and Bokuto saw them as well. He pitied Atsumu, but dared not to speak a word of it. In that diary, Atsumu undergone what you call affliction. Even now, it still disturbed them.

Beside them, they set up a telescope that they had recently bought. They got it after dodging that expensive price. Bokuto’s bargaining skills were useful. The trees waved side to side with the gusting wind. Sakusa’s dark curls wavered. They’ve always wanted to see the stars together. Earlier this day, they heard from the news that there was going to be a shooting star passing earth. It was very exciting as no one would ever expect to see something like this in their time of life.

There was a lot of things around their temporary property. Tents set up, sleeping bags, coats, stocks of food and drinks, you name it. They fully decided that they would never ever come back home. All of them hated where they came from. It just wasn’t for them.

At around five or six in the evening, the four of them were in school cleaning up toilets and classrooms. This was Sakusa’s nightmare. His duty was in the boys’ toilet. All the grime, stench, dirtiness tainted each cubicle he entered. He felt like regurgitating, but if he was going to faint, at least faint outside the bathroom. Nonetheless, he pushed through this hell and managed it somehow.

Suddenly, a burning smell wavered through the air and entered his nostrils, sending him to alarm. He rushed out of the boys’ bathrooms. His eye’s enlarged at the sight of flames eating the corridors. His mouth gaped as he stood petrified. What in the world?

Someone grabbed his wrist and pulled him away from danger. Sakusa turned around to see it was Bokuto. His heart was racing as he tried to process what the fuck just occurred. “Kotaro, what on earth is going on?!” He didn’t answer for a while until they’ve reached outside the burning school.

“It was Atsumu’s doing. He threw a cigarette in the bin and the bin caught on fire!” Bokuto used his arms to demonstrate the fire. Sakusa glared at Atsumu and grabbed him by the collar. “I know you hate this fucking place, but did you have to fucking burn down the school!?” Atsumu shoved him away from him. “So what if I fucking did?!” Sakusa’s eyes were filled with anger. Who goes to this extent from hatred? Especially from a teenager.

“You… YOU BASTARD!” he cursed at his selfishness. A punch swung onto Atsumu’s face and he fell to the ground in an instant. The blond head swiped the blood off his busted lips and gave him a deadly glare. Oh if looks could kill…He collided into Sakusa causing him to cough out his saliva. Therefore, a dog fight transpired between them. Sakusa had no care for the dirt sticking on to him as his only goal was to knock some god damn sense into Atsumu’s brain.

Hinata panicked and attempts to pull Atsumu away while Bokuto did the same for Sakusa. “Look we tried to extinguish it with a fire extinguisher! But it…it just wouldn’t work at all!” Hinata explained while he still held onto Atsumu. Sakusa’s brows furrowed. “Then what the fuck did you do then?” All three of them looked at each other. “We ditched it,” Bokuto shrugged his shoulders “It would go out”

Sakusa groaned in his clammy palms. Oh my fucking god…Since this happened, what’s gonna happen to them? Will they all get in to trouble? Obviously. Should they just mention that it was Atsumu’s fault and he shall bear the consequence? Or should all of them step out and stay along with the blond retard? Everyone remained quiet. Sirens were heard and police cars and fire brigade were approaching their way.

“Do you just want to go home and pack our stuffs secretly? We can buy that telescope we all wanted and watch the shooting star that’s coming tonight….”

And that’s how they ended up here, in the meadow deep into the woods where no one will find them. If they decided to give up on them, just like how the others would. Sakusa admitted that it was a beautiful scenery. Atsumu and he didn’t fight anymore. What’s done has been done. Everything happens for a reason.

Hinata and Bokuto arrived with more sticks cradled in their arms. They were dropped onto the beryl green grass. After that, Hinata plopped down and his chest heaving up and down “Oi no more. I’m tired from running around,” he waved his hand at him without looking at Bokuto. The owl-like man plastered a huge grin on his face “You lack strength, Chibi chan. C’mon toughen up those muscles,” Bokuto wacked his shoulders that sent Chibi forward. They laughed. Only the corner of Sakusa’s lips curved.

Boys in pain come together to diminish those pains.

A spark occurred in the middle of the dark sky. Hinata noticed this first and mirthfully swore “Guys I see it!” All of them ran to the telescope, even having little arguments of who should go first. It ended up being Atsumu. The rest of them quietened down and all they could do was admire. It was absolutely spectacular without a doubt. Not only was one shooting star but there a shower of them. A celebration perhaps?

“There’s so many of them! We should make a wish,” Hinata encouraged. All of them clasped their hands together with their eyes closed. Sakusa joined and he wished that he would have a happy life. That was all he wanted.  

“Atsumu…”

“……”

“Atsumu… is that other shooting star approaching us or am I losing my mind?” Hinata asked worriedly. His knees shook like jelly. “Atsumu...” His body quivered with uncontrollable nervousness. Atsumu didn’t say anything back but gulped. “Well aren’t you going to answer us?” Bokuto asked with a lump in his throat.

Sakusa gazed up, following the track of the star before it split into two after crashing a certain part of the atmosphere. He knew. Everyone knew, that it was bound to reach them any minute.

“Will be able to get out of here in time?” Bokuto asked fretfully, brushing his hands through his grey strands. It wouldn’t be called a shooting star anymore. It was meteorite. The little thing drew closer and closer each time they blinked.

They just knew they wouldn’t make it out in time…

Atsumu sighed. “I’m staying here. I have nothing in this world to live for,” he gazed up and muttered as salty essence well up his chocolate eyes. He said it quietly, yet it was enough to be understood. He walked around a log and sat down with his head hung low. It was getting closer. Hinata swiftly sat beside him with his arms wrapped around him. His eyes closed “I’m staying with you. Staying with you until the end. Who knows we might end up somewhere beautiful. A magical land called Us”

When he said those words, a tear rolled down from Sakusa’s glistening ebony orbs. All of them wanted that. For a long time. A magical land called Us. This world gave them so much pain to the point that they had to imagine a wonderful world.

Bokuto, who used to use happiness to shield his sadness, embraced the both of them. The three of them cuddled. Some sniffles and sobs were heard from their trembling lips. Sakusa patted the left side of his chest. He was breathing quite heavily. This was most emotion he had ever displayed.  All of them turned their heads to face him. Atsumu’s arm stretched out. He smiled wearily “Come with us”

A lot of thought rushed through his mind. His head went racing. Was this the right choice? Was this what he wanted? What he if he still want to liv-

Before he could move a muscle, a bright, yellowish light flared behind them. His eyes reflected the light. Everything happened so fast and after that, they…. vanished. Long forgotten in this world.

 -

 “A lot of things have happened during this week. Firstly, the “shooting star” also known as a meteorite, crashed in the meadow of (xxx) wood, the largest in this country. No one has expected this phenomenon to split into two and destroy so much nature. Even almost damaging some parts of nearby towns. Another talked about topic, is the burned down school at (xxx) province with four boys that attended that school, missing…”

 The little girl watched the enormous meteorite from afar. “Wah it’s huge,” she said as she dangled her tiny little legs. An ice cream was in her hands as she watched the workers inspecting the rock. Maybe they could extract minerals and become filthy rich. She took a lick of the ice cream. The wind was howling that evening. She enjoyed a vanilla ice cream during cold season.

“Y/n, come here!”

Her mother yelled. Y/n shouldn’t be out in the open. It was too dangerous, who knows what will happen. Y/n stood up from the edge of a cliff and admired the amber sky before realizing her ice cream dropped to the ground. Her mouth gaped in disbelief. She paid for that using her own money by collecting reusable garbage for hours. She exhaled and tossed the cone away.

“Y/n!”

“I’m coming mom. I’m coming,” she called back. She dusted her hands off her skirt and jogged on. There was a valley close by so she needed to be cautious otherwise she might roll off the cliff and that wouldn’t be good. However, as she took another step, her foot slipped and her face fell flat on the ground. Blood dripped down from her nostrils. “Great…”

Luckily for her, she had an extra packet of tissue deep in her pocket. She took a tissue out and wiped the blood off that dried. All of a sudden, from the corner of her eyes, she caught something shining in the grass. Curiosity aroused her and she moved closer to the object. Mother told her that she shouldn’t take or even touch something that’s not hers. It could bring bad luck.

Y/n didn’t remember her mother’s words when she picked it up. It was a silver necklace that took the shape of a key. “Wow…” she mumbled. It had a simple design to it, yet to her it was the most beautiful thing she had seen that day. The wind blew even harder as the wind whistled.

“Y/n! If you don’t come this instant, I will leave you here,” her mother called out for what seemed like the last time. Y/n shoved the object into her pocket and rushed to her parent. She shuddered. How cold was it? She wrapped her arms around her and rubbed for heat.

“Y/n, what happened to your nose?”

“I just fell”

“That’s karma for not listening to me for the first time. I just fell”

“MOM”

 -

 So this was what the afterlife looked like? It looked the same as their world, yet maybe more magical. In this world, there was only the four of them and no one else. It had everything they needed. It was tranquilized. The trees consisted of wisteria. All of their stuff that they had with them before their very last breaths was placed exactly the same way, same place. However, the boys weren’t there.

A burning door stood in the middle of the meadow. All of them watched it, sitting down with bittersweet smiles on their faces. Was it worth it after all? Atsumu was the first one to hop off his position and run out into the wild. His appearance changed. He took the form of a little boy and had a book about stars in his hands. Ten years of age. The last time he felt a sense of happiness before all crashed down. Hinata turned back to a fifteen year old and Bokuto, a twelve year old. It made Sakusa feel old. He remained the same after all their transformations. A seventeen year old.

The last time he felt happy was just a few months ago. Despite that, he never really intended to die. It was just a last minute wish he made that he regretted. He believed to have many things to do on his bucket list. It was too late somehow and he thought that this new life wasn’t bad after all. He could maybe tick them all of in this afterlife.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a necklace. His brows furrowed at it and he leaned forward to capture it. Now it laid on his palm and began his inspection. It was an open door with no handle… He gulped. What was the meaning of this? If he was being honest, Atsumu didn’t have his grandma’s necklace with him. He started connecting the dots.

The fire stopped burning the door. He looked up and moved backwards. It was dark and the atmosphere couldn’t be anymore spookier. He whimpered and started to shake.

A little girl clad in a ripped strawberry dress. Her shoes dirtied. Her skin pale as snow. Her hair in a dishevelled state and her eyes were the worst. They were fully pitch black. And before Sakusa knew it, he ran as fast as he could and…

…never turned back.

The shooting star, after all, just granted their wishes. Without them knowing the consequences…

[silverandarsenic-hcs]

Ghost BC X Traveling Circus AU

Another long post, im not sorry. am i gonna put a Read More link on any of these? no not ever. I had this idea while texting Nyx the other day (same day when I called all of you very sexy for still being active on this blog even tho we don’t post nearly as much as we used to). I hope you enjoy this concept as much as I do. Aside from the Papas and Copia, the ghouls are in order of the show schedule. 

Papa II: He’s the one who spends all his time alone before the show begins. He keeps his head clear, and has just one drink, and expects everyone else to organize themselves as due even when he isn’t watching. And they do. When he goes out to welcome the crowd into their space for the evening, and thank them for giving him their time for the evening, he doesn’t make eye contact with a single person. It’s not his style. He doesn’t want to make people feel comfortable, or relaxed. He wants them on their toes and that’s exactly where he’ll keep them until they get home that evening. During every act of the ghouls, II can be seen watching from the side of the ring, arms crossed, smoke a cigarette and looking vaguely displeased - though inside, he really is proud to see the ghouls do so wonderfully every night. It’s all for affect.

Papa III: Our dear boy is not only the ring master, but also director, producer, manager, talent wrangler, and resident yeller. He’s running around with an iced coffee in his hand, a headset half on his head, and a clipboard under his arm, screaming about costumes until the second it’s time for him to go. They do the same thing virtually every night, you’d think they’d finally be organized enough to do it without a mistake at least once, right? Wrong. Every night something goes wrong, and every night the girls come in clutch and fix it just before show time, and the evening is saved. When he goes out to the crowd, he’s slow, and seductive. He speaks only poignant words, and enunciates each of them so crisp the most simple of sounds sticks in your brain. The show is always 18+ when he’s the leader, and makes sure every member of the crowd knows exactly why. He introduces each ghoul before the show, and can be seen watching with a small smile on his face from just behind a curtain for every act.

Cardinal Copia: I imagine Dracopia is very similar to Ring Leader Copia, in style and in sheer Vibes. When he’s a the helm things are a little... darker. More mysterious. He keeps it PG so the shows won’t be marked 18+ most nights, but any kids that are in the crowd will definitely be having nightmares about the Copia in the Closet that evening (you’ve heard of Elf on the Shelf, now get ready for.....). It’s him who sets the tone for the whole show, and the ghouls will follow suit with their acts. He likes to take his time in the spotlight before the ghouls go on for the next two hours, but once he’s gone, you won’t see him until the very end. 

Dewdrop: however obvious, he's the guy with the fire. He starts the show after the ring leader goes off stage - starts it with a bang. The lights go low in tent, and a small orange flame ignites in the center of the stage. Before anyone realizes, an entire ring of flames surrounds him, where he stands atop a pedestal, juggling burning balls, bowling pins, and for the finale, knives. The entire crowd wonders how it's possible that he isn't burning his hands, but the ghouls keep that secret to themselves. In his pocket is a small parcel of a certain special powder, that when thrown on to the fire turn it every color of the rainbow. Sometimes if he’s feeling particularly in the mood for a show, he’ll turn the flames into something bigger, and more powerful. Something else entirely. It’s a good thing the ghouls don’t speak, so when meeting people after the show he won’t have to explain how a phoenix made from nothing but flames flew over the crowd. During the finale, the final trick, Dew throws a sword to Swiss, who catches it and while it's still burning, slips the entire thing down his throat.

Swiss: The sword swallower. After Dew's act introduces him, he puts out the burning sword with a squirt of water from his bottle, and blows the steam from his nostrils - the crowd loses their mind. Like Dew's swords, he starts off the act with the smallest in his arsenal, going all the way up to custom crafted silver blades, proven sharp to the touch with the cut of a cloth he keeps in his back pocket. Every onlooker is shocked every time he removes the sword absolutely clean of blood - how does his body do that? where does it go? Is it a magic trick? Is it all fake? They’ll never know. Until he pulls one member from the crowd to test the sword for themselves. They run their finger horizontally across the blade and prove it is sharp. The finale for Swiss’s run of the attention is when the same crowd member has the opportunity to be the one to put that very sword inside of him. They never do it right - nervous, shaking hands, if the ghouls were human all of Swiss’s organs and arteries would have been shredded by now. But the human crowd doesn’t know that, and to Swiss, it’s only mildly uncomfortable.

Ghoulettes: They're the ones who keep the show going in between every act but Dew/Swiss. Walking around in their costumes, cracking whips, making the crowd cheer and getting them excited (and a little turned on.). There's a reason this show is 18+ most nights. Some have even said they were the best part of the show. They'll occasionally pick a member of the crowd and bring them into the ring, during their own show or one of the other ghoul's. It keeps them invested. And if they get embarrassed they'll be sure to have the crowd cheer wildly for it. I don’t even have to say anything except “the girls have whips” and i already know you're imagining something better than I could ever put into words. That’s a W in my books.

Rain: Our water ghoul wows the crowd with feats of his own, no tricks, or ghoul power, or props needed. Well, maybe a little ghoul powers. After the ghoulettes return backstage, from the top of the tent descends glorious streams of blue silk, a hanging ariel ring, and a couple trapeze bars. Swiss sticks around for this part - throwing Rain up high into the air when he needs to, and catching him if he needs to be caught, but mostly just because he likes to watch this part of the slow as close as possible. The lights dim again, and Rain climbs up on the silks, amazing the crowd with merely a shred of his strength and flexibility. But everyone is absolutely silent for this part, transfixed on what’s before them. From the silks, Rain climbs up and grips the ariel bar, quickly flipping himself up to sit very pretty in the center of it. It’s a sight to see, the ring spinning slowly while Rain climbs elegantly through it, balancing himself on his hands alone. Not a single one of his movements disturbs the painfully slow rotation. From there he drops down to the ground, caught swiftly by Swiss, who then tosses him up so high into air the crowd questions if it’s really humanly possible to be that strong. Rain swings around on the trapeze bars with fluid ease, and when he finally drops down and lands on his feet, he takes a modest but confident bow.

Aether: Our leader ghoul is the animal tamer - he is used to it by now. Lions, bears, no matter what animal you give him he'll have it quickly under control. He does carry a whip, but doesn't use it for the sake of the animals, it is just for affect. The animals are incredible trained to make it look like they’re dangerous, vicious creatures, but backstage it’s not uncommon to find Aether hanging out with a tiger cub they rescued during one of their stops. He’ll make people laugh with silly physical expressions, and having the animals do fun tricks, and bring down members of the crowd to play a game with the animal. He, nonverbally, assures them that the animal won’t hurt them, and ushers them on to pet the great black bear in front of them. It usually goes well, but sometimes the bear isn’t in a great mood that night, so when Aether pulls the person out of harms way at the last second, he just looks that much better and braver. In that case, he’ll let whoever screamed the loudest have a moment to snuggle with the tuger cub. (look I know circuses don’t have animals like this anymore because animal cruelty and animal cruelty sucks. I get that do not come for me this is not real)

Mountain: The brute of the bunch. He does the most, which is why they save him for the very last. Whether he’s driving a dirt bike in circles every which way inside a small steel sphere, lifting incredible weights, or using his own strength to bed the steel of the cage he rode in, the crowd loves him. He’ll go into the stands and lift an entire bench full of grown men if he pleases. He’ll play to the girls, and lift two of them over his shoulders with only one hand on their bottoms with absolute ease - and they always swoon over him. How could you not, looking at those biceps nearly bursting through his button down. It’s a sight to see. And at the end of the show, when Mountain is done trying to pick up anyone he finds attractive, the rest of the ghouls and the ring master will come out and take a big bow while everyone cheers. With a final speech and a big thank you from Copia or one of the Papas, the lights will dim for the last time, and the show is over.

- Kat

[quickeningheart]

Twenty-One

   Alley could hardly sleep that night, tossing and turning in her bed, trying to get comfortable. Her dreams were disjointed and strange. Not outright nightmares, but disturbing nonetheless. It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, she found herself back at the lake, wrapped in Throttle’s arms.

   When the clock read four-thirty, she finally gave up and struggled out of bed, yawning widely and raking her fingers through the tangles in her hair. By habit, she reached for the bag of pellets to feed Mercedes, only to remember that she was no longer there. Grumbling, she gathered the supplies, tossed them into the cage, and carried the entire contraption to her closet and shoved it inside. There, she decided. Out of sight, out of mind.

   Still half-asleep, she threw on her robe and stumbled out to the kitchen to fix herself some coffee. She considered making eggs, decided she wasn’t awake enough to risk fiddling with Charley’s ancient, temperamental stove, and settled for cold cereal instead. That early in the morning, there wasn’t much of anything on. She stared listlessly at reruns of the Twilight Zone, ate her Cheerios, and tried to decide what to do next about her college situation.

   Next thing she knew, she found herself jerking awake as the floor shook and rumbled; someone was opening the garage door. Realizing she’d dozed off, she glanced at the wall clock to see that it read quarter to seven. “Morning, sunshine,” Charley called from the kitchen as heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.

   “And a good morning to you, too, Beautiful,” Vinnie announced cheerfully as he wrapped his tail around Charley's waist to pull her in for a hug.

   She rolled her eyes and gave his chest a light swat. “I wasn’t talking to you,” she teased, untangling herself and striding toward Alley, offering the sleepy blonde a fresh cup of coffee.

   Vinnie crossed his arms with a petulant pout, ears drooping. “I tell ya, I get no love,” he complained to his snickering bros.

   Charley paused on her way back to the kitchen just long enough to reach up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Morning, handsome,” she murmured into his ear, causing his entire face to flush pink as the snickers turned into outright laughter.

   Alley ignored their antics and sipped her coffee, wondering if she should go back to bed. She didn’t think she could deal with the obnoxious flirting today. She risked a quick peek over the back of the couch. Throttle leaned against the wall, arms crossed and one leg propped, the very picture of casual aloofness. He was very carefully not looking at her. She sighed and turned around again.

   “Oh, yeah. I found this in the mail slot this morning.” Charley waved a white cardboard envelope with the Fed Ex logo stamped on it, tossing it onto the coffee table in front of her cousin.

   “Mom overnighted them? That had to be expensive.” Frowning, Alley slit open the envelope and pulled out a thin stack of papers, looking them over. “I dunno, Charley. You think old report cards and homework papers will really be enough to convince them I was set up?” she asked doubtfully.

   “All you can do is try,” her cousin replied. “Ask your friends to get you in to see the dean. He’s their father, right? If you explain to him, I’m sure he’ll be willing to help.”

   “Yeah, okay. I’ll stop by the college today and see if Chex can help me out. Or maybe Chris. He seems to have more influence with his parents.” Alley could only hope he’d be willing to help her. Given his reaction last night, she wasn’t too sure he’d be willing to even talk to her. The thought left a sour feeling in her stomach. “I’m gonna go change,” she mumbled, standing. As she passed Throttle, she gave him a hopeful glance and a small smile. His gaze slid her way, and she saw his eyes widen behind his field specs as he gave her a long once-over.

   "What?" She glanced down at herself, wondering what was wrong. Did she spill coffee on her pajamas or something?

   “Nothin’,” he muttered, pushing off the wall and wandering into the kitchen. Stung, she looked at Modo and Vinnie, who merely shrugged, looking as confused as she felt. She shook her head, turned and stomped to her room. Whatever. Her situation with Throttle would have to wait for a bit. She had more important things to deal with at the moment.

     ~*~*~*~*~

   Three hours later, Alley plopped down on a bench under an oak tree on the East Campus and tried not to give in to frustrated tears. She had taken a cab to the campus hoping to see Mr. Archer, but had been firmly rebuffed by the ever-vigilant Mary. Meetings all day, she’d said. Not to be disturbed.

   Alley had next tried texting Chex, only to discover that her class schedule was booked full until well into the afternoon. Finally, she’d tried texting Chris. As she’d feared, he refused to respond. Nor did he answer when she tried to call. She told herself it was probably because he was in class and had the phone turned off, but part of her knew it was more than that.

   “Wow. You look like the whole world just imploded.”

   Startled, Alley glanced up to find Chex bouncing toward her, dressed in skin-hugging black jeans and an electric blue, medieval-looking corset blouse with long bell sleeves. The outfit was finished off with a pair of studded biker boots and a lace choker studded with blue metallic roses.

   “You goin’ on a date?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

   The redhead plopped down beside her. “The step-monster insisted I dress ‘classy’ for school.” She grinned, holding out her arms. “This is me bein’ classy.” She riffled around her leather bag and pulled out a canned coffee. “Want one? I’ve got like six of ‘em in here.”

   “Isn’t that heavy?”

   “Sure. But it works great as a weapon to beat off my countless admirers.” She grinned and popped the tab, taking a long swig. “Ahhh, caffeine. The ambrosia of life for college students everywhere,” she sighed.

   Alley laughed, accepting a can of mocha espresso and taking a sip.

   “So, you get anywhere with Pops?”

   She sighed. “No. Mary refused to let me in. I tried calling Chris but … he won’t answer. I think he’s kinda disgusted with me.”

   “Oh, don’t worry about him. He’s a spaz but he’s cool. He’ll come around. Eventually.” Chex took another swig out of her can. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll just beat some sense into him, is all.” She finished off the coffee and tossed the can into a nearby garbage bin. “This whole thing is just weird. I mean, I don’t ever remember a student getting kicked out and being accused of cheating after the term already started. They usually catch it way ahead of time. Someone really dropped the ball on that one. Their ass better get fired.”

   “Except I didn’t cheat,” Alley grumbled. “I was totally set up. Charley thinks my files were hacked through the school system. And the guys think Limburger has something to do with it. I think I was just the victim of a prank or something.”

   “Hmmm…” Chex tipped her head back. “Speaking of the Purple People Eater, I haven’t seen him around campus lately. Not for a week or two, at least. Even his smelly goons stopped showing up. Little weird under the circumstances, dontcha think?”

   “That could just be coincidence.”

   “Or maybe the guys are on to something. Like, what if it was a setup? An inside job! What if Limburger promised to leave the school alone if someone, like, changed all your records or something?”

   “But why?” Alley huffed a frustrated sigh. “What purpose would doing that serve? The school sits on valuable property, and Limburger’s entire purpose for being here is to strip-mine choice property for his own planet’s needs. He’d stand to lose a lot more than he’d gain by promising to leave it alone, just to ruin the reputation of one student.”

   “It is a conundrum. Lucky for you, I love a good mystery. So I’ll help you solve this one! I can go undercover, snoop around in the office files and stuff for clues. There’re advantages to being the dean’s kid, you know.” Chex slung a conspiratorial arm around Alley’s shoulders. “And in exchange,” she added with a smirk, “you can tell me all about your hot date with Throttle.” She batted her heavily-lined eyes and affected a Valley Girl accent. “So, like, are you two, like, going steady?"

   “Not hardly. He has a girlfriend.”

   She winced, removing her arm. “Ooh. Ouch.”

   Alley snorted. “You can say that again.” She fiddled with the can in her hands. “It’s all awkward between us now. I don’t think he knows what to say to me.”

   “Well, no wonder. I mean, he cheated on his girl.”

   “He didn’t cheat!” Alley blushed when Chex raised an eyebrow at her outburst. “I mean … not really. I didn’t sleep with him, if that’s what you’re thinking. But I guess what we did do was bad enough.”

   “Too bad.” Chex smirked. “Goin’ by what I saw last night, I bet it would’ve been hot.” She tugged at the collar of the dark purple lace blouse Alley had thrown on over a black camisole, to hide the majority of the bruises.

   Alley stared at her. “You don’t think it’s … weird? Me making out with a giant mouse?”

   “Please.” Chex laughed. “You’ve never met my friends. You ain’t seen weird until you meet a guy with metal spikes drilled into his skull. He can switch 'em out and everything! Last I saw him, he had a rainbow on his head. It was awesome.”

   Alley giggled, finishing off her coffee and tossing the can. “That definitely sounds … colorful. By the way, aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

   “Yeah, I’ve got one starting any second now. I was on my way when I saw you sitting here being all mopey.”

   “Won’t you get in trouble for being late?”

   “Pfft. What’re they gonna do, kick the dean’s kid outta the classroom?”

   Alley’s lips twitched. “Noooo … but the professor might complain to your dad about it. Or worse. Your step-mom.”

   “Oh. That’s a good point.” Chex picked up her bag and hopped to her feet. “Sorry, girl. Love to stay and keep prying info outta you, but I’ve got creative writing to attend."

   “Have fun! Guess I’ll call a cab back to the garage in the meantime. Nothing else I can do here, for now.”

   “You’re not getting a pickup?”

   “Charley needs her truck, and frankly, the thought of getting on the back of one of those motorcycles again freaks me the hell out. Those guys are scary when they ride!”

   “Damn. I’m jealous.” Chex sniggered at Alley's expression. “Look, there’s a shuttle that transports students between the campuses. It shows up in front of the Atrium like every two hours. Just ride that to the city campus and catch a bus line from there to the garage. Way cheaper than a cab.”

   “Isn’t that for the students, though?”

   “Uh, hello. You are a student. At least you will be when this crap gets sorted out. You still have your ID, right? Just flash it at the driver and hop on. Not like he’d know the difference.”

   “Sure. I’ll do that. Thanks.”

   “Right. Well, gotta book. Later!” Chex turned and made a mad dash for the nearest building, leaving Alley alone on the bench.

   She sighed and got up, trudging toward the Atrium and trying her best to look like an aloof, bored student just waiting for a ride as she leaned against the wall, arms crossed. She jumped a bit when her phone suddenly buzzed, pulled it from her pocket to find a message from Chex.

           Oh, yeah. Almost forgot. I told the step-monster about your jewel stuff. Here’s her business email address. Mail her a pic of the necklace and any other pieces you have  and tell her you’re looking for appraisal with interest in selling. Trust me, she’ll be ALL over it. Later!

   Alley smiled and put the phone away. Well, one thing seemed to be going right, at least. Charley would be glad to hear the news.

     ~*~*~*~*~

   Chex was right about the shuttle. When the short white bus finally pulled up, Alley took a fortifying breath, flashed her most innocent smile and her student ID, and made beeline to the very back of the vehicle when the driver hardly gave her a glance. Three other students boarded with her; none of them paid her any attention, and she relaxed.

   She found herself dozing on the ride back into the city, jerked awake when the bus pulled to a stop and the other passengers noisily got up and filed off. She grabbed her bag and hastily followed, finding herself in front of a tall, gleaming skyscraper of a school. She released a breath and pulled her phone, using its GPS to locate the nearest bus route. There was one only two blocks over. Hiking her bag over her shoulder, she started to walk. She’d barely taken ten steps, however, before a horribly familiar voice brought her up short.

   “Well, well, young lady. We meet yet again.”

   Alley froze, a shiver trembling up her spine as a gaudy Rolls Royce pulled up to the curb beside her. The faint whiff of rotten fish drifted through the open window, making her nose itch and a hard sneeze threaten to erupt; she forced it back by sheer willpower, stepping further away from the curb as the limo’s suicide door swung open and Limburger’s gleaming eyes peered out at her from the shadowed exterior of the car. Those eyes reminded her of a shark, cold and lifeless. So did his wide smile, all teeth and false charm.

   “Lawrence Limburger. What an … unexpected surprise,” she said, relieved when her voice sounded steady and calm.

   “Yes. Quite,” he responded. “If you would be so kind, I do wonder if you might spare a few moments of your time?”

   The chills grew stronger and Alley swallowed, hard. “I’m in a bit of a hurry, I’m afraid. Got a bus to catch—”

   “Oh, this won’t take long. I merely wish to discuss some business with you. A few minutes, that is all I require. If you would kindly take a seat?” He gestured to the cushy bench seat across from him.

   “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that getting into cars with complete strangers is a terribly bad idea? I’m afraid I’ll have to pass. Send me a letter. I’m sure you know where to address it.” She started to back away, only to be brought up short as something hard poked firmly into her back. Startled, she glanced over her shoulder … and nearly had a heart attack as a huge, smelly goon dripping grease and dressed in filthy overalls leered down at her.

   “Da boss asked yas nicely ta gets in da car, girly,” he growled, prodding harder with the gun. “So gets in.”

   “My associate, Greasepit.” Limburger gave a dismissive wave. “Best do as he says. He’s not a particularly good shot, but at this range I doubt even he can miss.”

   Heart sinking, Alley reluctantly climbed into the limo and curled up on the seat across from the Plutarkian, calling herself all sorts of stupid. She should’ve bolted the moment she’d heard his voice, but how was she supposed to know he’d be ballsy enough to grab her in broad daylight, in the middle of downtown Chicago?

   The door slammed shut, and the car pulled from the curb, merging into traffic as horns blared and tires screeched to avoid collision. The interior of the limo was frigid, the air conditioning turned up full-blast. And even that couldn’t quash the thick, maelstrom stench of too many air fresheners, old cigars, and the rancid, toe-curling odor of rotting seafood. Alley breathed shallowly and tried her best not to be sick all over Limburger’s nice, purple-upholstered seat. “So, you wanted to talk. So talk,” she snapped, affecting a bravado she was far from feeling at the moment.

   "Oh, don’t be tiresome,” Limburger sniffed. “No need to look at me like that. After all, we’re not, in fact, complete strangers. You know me, I’m sure. And I do know all about you, Miss Allyson Kelly Davidson.” His smile reappeared. “Or, should I say … Parker?”

   Alley blinked in surprise.

   “I hear you’ve been having some … difficulty in regards to your educational endeavors these days,” he continued, his voice practically dripping well-feigned sympathy.

   Her eyes narrowed. “You heard that, huh? Boy, bad news sure travels fast.”

   “Indeed. And I believe I may be of some assistance in regards to this particular issue. I am, after all, quite influential in this city. A well-respected citizen. An entrepreneur. An—"

    “—illegal alien?” Alley cut in sweetly. At his raised eyebrow, she pasted on her most innocent expression. “I’ve heard rumors.”

   His thick lips curled. “In point of fact, a few phone calls and some words from me will go quite a long way to restoring your academic reputation to its former glory. I daresay your scholarship funding will be reinstated, your classes rescheduled, and it will be as if this little … mishap never occurred in the first place.”

   Alley pursed her lips. “Uh-huh. And you’re going to do this for me from the overwhelming generosity of your heart, I suppose?”

   He snorted. “Don’t be absurd, Miss Parker—”

   “It’s Miss Davidson to you.”

   “Now, now. Let us keep our tempers, shall we?” His smile was cold. “As I was saying, I am a businessman, and this is a business proposition. I can give you what you want. And if my many sources are to be believed, you can give me something I want, in exchange.”

   “And that would be…?”

   “Information.”

   She waited for the addendum. When none was forthcoming, she frowned. “Information,” she repeated. “That’s it?”

   “Quite.” Limburger removed a small tin from his pocket, selected a sample of its contents, and slurped down what looked like a limp noodle. Then, noting his guest’s stare, he offered the tin to her. “Would you care for a taste? They are the very finest quality.”

   Alley leaned in for a closer look, curious despite herself … and instantly recoiled when the contents squirmed.

   Limburger chuckled, clearly pleased by her reaction. “They are called Plutarkian Slug Worms,” he explained. “Although the name is a bit misleading as they're completely earthen in origin. My own creation, actually. Genetically spliced from your common earthworms and garden-variety slugs, with just a pinch of snail thrown in. The taste is exquisite.” He sighed blissfully, and Alley shuddered. “They are considered quite the rare delicacy on Plutark, which means, of course, that I can charge a large fortune for a small sample, and Plutarkians will pay through the gills to obtain it.” He slurped down another worm with relish. “Are you certain you would not care for a taste?”

   “No thanks. I just ate,” Alley muttered, shrinking back into her seat, not even trying to hide her disgust.

   “Your loss.” He snapped the tin closed. "As I was saying," he continued, "my sources have informed me that you and I share a common acquaintance with a certain trio of, shall we say ... individuals."

   Alley decided there was no point in pretending; he’d obviously done his homework and knew exactly who she was. “I’m assuming you’re talking about the Biker Mice,” she replied, crossing one leg over the other and folding her hands primly atop her knee.

   “Indeed. Those destructive, flea-ridden miscreants and their overbearing machismo! Pestilent parasites, the lot of them!” he snarled, slamming his fist against the seat, before remembering himself and clearing his throat. “But, ironically enough, it is not them I have vested interest in.” He straightened his tie. “There has been a fourth mouse seen coming and going these past few weeks. A rather infamous leader of their little rebel band. He’s been on earth before, but never for such prolonged periods. So, I must say I am quite curious to know what he’s been about these days. Perhaps you can satisfy my curiosity?”

   Alley pursed her lips, considered … then shrugged. “If you’re talking about Stoker, he isn’t their general anymore. He retired. His niece has taken over. Or so I’ve been told.”

   “Yes, yes, I know all that already,” he snapped, waving her off irritably. “What I want to know is why he came to earth and what he’s been up to down here!”

   She shrugged again. “I can’t tell you that. I have no idea what he gets up to. Nobody does. He’s very hush hush about the whole thing.”

   “Ah, but he is up to something, isn’t he?” Limburger smiled evilly. “Slippery as an eel, that one. Coming and going at all hours. Oh, I’ve had him followed but he’s too wily and too cautious for that. Gives me the slip every time. Infuriating, really. But! I know he is working on something big, which might possibly tip the balance of power out of Plutark’s favor and turn the war around, and that simply will not do.”

   Alley shifted uncomfortably. “Well, like I said, I don’t know anything, so I’m afraid I can’t help you. Can I get out now?”

   “But we are not finished conversing yet,” Limburger purred. “You may not know anything now, but my sources inform me that Stoker seems to have taken quite a … fancy to you.” His lips pulled into a sneer. “Use your feminine wiles! Charm the information out of him. If he’s anything like those other rodents, he’ll be putty in your pretty little hands.”

   “You want me to seduce him?” Alley felt her face slowly turning red.

   “Oh, nothing so tawdry as that,” he sniffed. “Simply cozy up to him, simper and flatter and pull the information from his besotted brain before he even realizes he’s let it slip. Then, pass it on to me.” He reached into his jacket, withdrew a foil-embossed business card and offered it to her. “When you find the answers I seek, come see me here. You give me whatever information you’ve obtained, I make those phone calls, and voila, your credibility and your scholarship is fully restored.”

   Alley accepted the card, frowning. “And what do you plan to do with the information?” she asked.

   “That, my dear girl, is hardly your concern. Your job shall be quite finished by then.”

   She pursed her lips. “I still don’t see why I should help you. You’ve made my cousin’s life a living hell, trying to take her garage. Helping you would be the same as betraying her.”

   “And why should that matter?” he sniffed. “After all, it isn’t as though you’re really cousins, now is it, Miss Parker?”

   Alley flushed, opening her mouth to retort, but a command from Limburger had the car lurching toward the curb, throwing her off-balance as the brakes slammed on and brought it to a screeching halt. The driver door banged, and a few moments later, the passenger door swung open. She cringed away at the sight of the three-eyed … thing in a driver’s cap grinning up at her. It held the door open with one arm and gestured at her to exit with the tentacle that made up its other. “Watch your step,” the creature intoned cheerfully as she hastily scrambled from the limo.

   “Do consider my proposition carefully,” Limburger called after her. “You have much to gain by your cooperation, you know. The restoration of your scholarly endeavors could be only the beginning! Why, a man of my wealth and influence could—”

   “Okay, I get the point!” she snapped, stuffing the card into her pocket. “Just … gimme a bit. I’ve gotta think it over. Stoker’s not an idiot, you know.”

   “Of course,” he purred, lips curling into a triumphant smirk. “And I need not tell you to keep our little rendezvous between just the two of us. After all, as they say, discretion is the better part of valor.”

   “Great. An alien fish who quotes Shakespeare,” she muttered as the car moved on with a screech of rubber. She glanced around, realizing with uneasy shock that she'd been dropped off in a rather unsavory section of town. The buildings were far more rundown, the roads pitted and cracked, and the population seemed to be nonexistent. Cursing under her breath, she pulled up her GPS again to locate Charley’s garage, finding with surprise that she stood only six blocks away from it.

   Unfortunately, those six blocks happened to be in the wrong direction from the nearest bus station; she’d have to walk past her destination in order to catch a bus. Looked like she was gonna have to hoof it. At least, she thought dryly, the hike would give her time to air out the stench she was sure had seeped into her clothes and hair by then. As it was, she probably wouldn't be smelling anything but dead fish for the next few days. Ugh. Talk about an appetite killer.

   Sighing heavily, she began trudging toward the Last Chance Garage, wondering just how much weirder her life could possibly get.

Next

[princessvicky01]

Cake and Cuddles

Part 10 - The final chapter! This ends my OTP epilogue for Cullen x Annabel post trespasser and has been an emotional journey. For those who have read and left comments/likes/reblogs/kudos - thank you so much, you really don’t know what it means to have your encouragement.

Summary (SFW): It’s Cullen’s birthday, and what better way to spend it then with his family? The Dad!Cullen domestic fluff we’ve all been waiting for. Enjoy!

Click for: Whole story on AO3 or Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

And just in time for the end of @cullenappreciationweek 2019!

Cake and Cuddles

It’s far too quiet.

Annabel frowns as she slips her jacket off. Worry and suspicion bicker for her attention as she climbs the steps, listening carefully for any telltale cries or screeches that she usually received on her return.

When Cullen hadn’t met at the gate, she wasn’t overly surprised. He must’ve had his hands full without her around, and she never could quite shake the pang of guilt that leaving her family behind brought with it. The fading sun’s rays now pave her way back to them with a welcoming orange glow, and warm eagerness begins to replace her trepidations.

Maker, but she had missed them. It had only been just over a week, but it had felt like a lifetime. No doubt her weary husband would agree. Smiling to herself, she rounds the corner of the steps to be greeted by her boys.

Prince, the great lumbering marabi, and so-called ‘guard dog’ doesn’t even raise an eyebrow at her approach. It seems the boys had thoroughly worn the old dog out, based on his heavy snoring, that continues while Arthur marches a carved pony up the great mountain of the dog’s side, oblivious that his mother was merely a few feet away. A second pony follows, or brave knight, it seemed, as the toys continued their quest along a treacherous path of a snoring mabari’s stomach. Piled either side of Arthur, one sprawled over the dog’s paw while the other lay spread over the floor with a miniature carved dragon still in hand were her little twins, Bryan and Maxwell.

Leaning on the bannister, she spends a few silent moments savouring the sight of them, the rise and fall of her toddler’s chests and the tiny snippets of playful conversation she catches from their big, but altogether still small, brother. Arthur had blossomed in Skyhold, having more attention, more care and more adventure than any young boy could ever wish for. As she watches, he suddenly exclaims something in gibberish, then reaches over to grab a report. It’s then that she spies the sprawled line of paperwork between his play area and her desk. Ah. So, the picture wasn’t quite so perfectly innocent after all.

Time and time again he’d been told to leave the desks and paperwork alone, and yet he seemed drawn to them with an endless fascination of putting chalk and ink to paper. The smile on her lips becomes slightly crooked, it seemed little Arthur was a perfect combination of her and Cullen, free-spirited but still with a love for paperwork. In fact, she had already requisitioned a bespoke miniature desk for him so he could ‘help’ by practising his letters and doodling on paper that didn’t contain important military secrets.

All but chuckling to herself, Annabel decides to intervene, it’s only then that she realises she can, in fact, hear two distinct snores. Twisting, she spies Cullen, sprawled over the small sofa, flat on his back, with a children’s book loosely held in one drooped hand while the other wraps over his latest prized possession. Baby Rose.

The young babe, just under four months old, had nestled against her father’s chest, head resting right over the beat of his heart, and it seems that Cullen has never slept more soundly. Drawn to the tiny buddle, Annabel crouches by their side, carefully taking the ‘tale of the stubborn druffalo’ out of Cullen’s hold, making fingers twitch, ever alert, even when exhausted and lost deep in the Fade.

“Mama!!!”

The overly zealous shout wakes Cullen with a jolt, the baby griping in compliant as her pillow shifts under her, thankfully he has just enough sense to stop himself bolting upright and disturbing her completely. It had taken him hours to get her to sleep, as it had every evening that Annabel had been away, the infant finding sparse comfort against the relatively hard planes of his chest. Those trials were over now though, his bleary eyes catching sight of his radiant wife as she catches Arthur’s bear hug and squeezes him so tight he erupts in a fit of giggles.

Another snuffled complaint from Rose sounds, and he can already tell that’s it, the peace has been broken, and she begins to wail, but still, he couldn’t be happier.

“Annabel… I… What time is it?” Shuffling more upright he shushes the babe against him, but it’s no use, her tiny fists have already drawn tight as she demanded nothing less than everyone’s full attention.

Scuffing up her son’s dark mop of curls, Annabel dismisses his worry, then gestures to hold the baby, something Cullen feels rather guilty of being so relieved to see. Between the four of them, he’s not sure he’s had a moment’s peace since she’d departed, if it wasn’t Arthur trying to climb the battlement walls it was the twins squabbling, or Rose crying to be nursed. She had not been impressed by the milk Annabel had left behind. She’d thrown a tantrum at the bottle and refuse to quiet for anything but her favourite lullaby. That had made for an interesting war room meeting…

Suddenly Arthur is climbing to sit beside him, legs swinging as his brother’s take their turn at getting rather more subdued affection, rubbing puffy eyes and nuzzling against their mother’s side with loose grips around her waist.

“It’s time for bed,” she rocks the whimpering baby one-handed against her chest, the other prising that damn wooden dragon from Bryan’s grip. “Come on now.”

Cullen almost sighs in blessed relief. Oh, Maker only knows he loved his children more than anything, but taking care of four alone had proven to be the greatest challenge of his life. Of course, the other advisors and staff had helped out during the day, but every morning and night had been a battle to rise and settle them.

Slowly rising, Annabel has to wriggle her son’s hold free, and as Bryan begins to snuffle a cry, Cullen wraps him and his brother up into his arms to hold one on either hip. Arthur meanwhile has already scampered off, seemingly full of boundless energy, he proudly fetches some papers that look distinctly like the reports Cullen had spent the afternoon writing.

“Look, I helped Papa, just like you said. See,” eagerly he presents the ruined document with bright blue eyes which are the very picture of Annabel’s.

“Arthur,” Cullen’s tone verges on stern. “What did we tell you about not touching the papers on the grown up’s desks?”

Annabel raises an eyebrow and refuses to come to her son’s aid as he peers up at her.

“But it wasn’t on the desk! Honest, Prince knocked them all on the floor,” he points with a stubby finger at the hound who finally decides to wake up with a mighty yawn and little wag of his tail. “And I…” the child falters under his parent’s scrutiny, eyes eventually ending up on the floor. “…I just wanted to help. Like you said.”

Much like his mother, Arthur was impossible to stay mad at, and Cullen merely gives a resigned sigh. “Alright. Next time just check before you start helping, please.”

The boy nods and is playfully shoved forward by his mother. “Bed. Now. It’s Papa’s birthday tomorrow, and I’ve got lots planned.”

“Oh, really?” Cullen raises a smirk and a questioning eyebrow, his toddlers already sleeping against him.

“Yes,” Annabel nods, hand still urging Arthur forward least he forget the task. “But all of you only get your goodies if your well behaved.” Now it’s her turn to give a playful little smirk. “Now, bed.”

The family shuffles its way downstairs, the boys bedrooms and a small play area had been built into the once wasted space beneath the Inquisitor’s chamber and had proven to make the ideal nest for the family. Provided no more surprise children came along that was.

It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open, his heavy lids blinking as he watches Annabel nurse their little girl. Just how had he ended up so blessed? When Annabel places her in the cot, the babe settles without compliant, and Cullen finds himself wearing a humble smile as he continues to study his wife. He must have dozed off because the next thing he knows Annabel is curling up against his side, and the telltale nudge of her feet sneaking to slip between his for warmth pulls him back from the edge of the Fade. “I missed you…” voice croaky and broken, he plants a kiss against the top of her head, resting there to soak in the scent of her.

“I missed you too,” her finger traces circles over his heart. “All of you.”

-

Sluggishly Cullen opens his eyes to be greeted by sunlight. He hums as he rests his lids once more, he can’t remember the last time he’d woken so late or feeling so revived. The room is peaceful with nothing but a light breeze dancing across his chest, and it takes but a moment for concern to fully wake him.

Silence? That really was a worrying novelty when you had four small children.

Sitting up, he finds only crumpled sheets and a scruffy note on Annabel’s side of the bed. Blinking away the Fade, he reads it slowly through the lingering fog of sleep.

‘Thought you’d earned a rest, Birthday Boy. I’ll be with the children in the garden. Come join us when you’re ready, but don’t take too long - birthday surprises await! Annabel x

He smiles softly to himself and lays his head back on his pillow. He’d always been an early riser, but right now, ten more minutes of peace sounded perfect. He ponders briefly on just what she meant by ‘surprises’, instantly he hopes for cake, and perhaps some time for them alone, although right now he would gladly welcome languid cuddles in front of the fire. And that is the image he takes with him back into the Fade.

-

“Papa!”

Strolling in his casual wear down to the garden the shout catches Cullen’s attention along with it’s high pitched chortling. Pausing at the bottom step, he spies Annabel sat on the grass with her back to him, the twins by her feet and a dark-haired stranger holding his daughter.

“Papa, look!”

He doesn’t know the voice, but vaguely recognises the small red-haired girl it belongs to as she rushes over with flowers in her hands. When the stranger looks up from the bundle in his arms, Cullen instantly knows it’s the ill-tempered Lord. Annabel’s brother. Is that what she’d meant by surprises? He had rather hoped for something more pleasurable. Although the scowl he remembered Bryan always wearing was gone, replaced by a soft smile that makes him decide to study the Trevelyan’s for a while.

“It’s lovely Evelyn, I’m sure auntie Annabel would love to wear it.”

“No, papa I made it for you!” With innocence and joy, the little girl holds out a scruffy daisy chain, as proud as anyone had ever been.

“Don’t fret, there are plenty for everyone,” Kelandris, his wife, holds out a bunch, already wearing one herself then placing one on little Bryan and Maxwell in turn. The toddlers instantly find their new headwear fascinating, it lasts for all of thirty seconds until they steal each other’s and ruin the delicate chains in the process. They seem happy enough with the flowers though, squashing and throwing tiny petals with glee.

“Ah, I see, in that case,” Bryan tips his head down to his daughters’ level to accept his new crown before rising like a king. “Thank you, my lady.” He nods respectfully as the girl chuckles and climbs into Annabel’s lap to crown her too.

“Plenty enough for you too Commander,” Bryan’s sideways remark catches Cullen off guard. The Lord had given no indication he’d spied him, and in fact, Cullen had expected the opposite given his rather uncharacteristic antics.

Annabel twists, greeting him with a beaming smile and the girl is soon rushing to him with her pink and white daisy chain. “Uncle!”

Crouching, he meets his niece, even still she can’t quite reach his head to place the delicate flowers there, so he boosts her up. She’s very endearing as she hurries back to her mother, and it seems Cullen fits right in as he joins the mini flower festival. Sitting crossed-legged by his wife, he greets her with a fleeting kiss, Maker he had missed those lips, and as much as he might wish to indulge in them further now was not the time. Perhaps that was one of his surprises? That certainly would be much more enjoyable than the company of nobles.

“Bran! Get down from there!”

Cullen instantly knows that voice, it seems to transport him hundreds of miles and decades into the past with its reprimand, back to Honnleath, although he can hardly believe it. Whatever childish reply is made gets lost to the wind, but Mia’s certainly isn’t. “I don’t care what Arthur is doing! If he impaled himself on his blade would you do the same!?”

“Mmm, perhaps we should’ve recruited Mia as our Commander,” Annabel’s teasing quip brings a smile to Cullen’s lips.

“Aww, come on ma’am, I can take it,” Iron Bull’s telltale tenor catches Cullen attention and draws him up to his feet. Just how many people had Annabel managed to gather for his birthday? Any hopes of a lazy day of cake and cuddles were quickly fading. Although the sight of Bull carrying four children off his horns as he charges in with Mia close behind makes up for any disappointment.

Arthur drops from the Qunari with all the boldness of youth, and lands hard but is soon back on his feet, knees grazed and shirt already mud-stained. “Papa!” His joy is bright enough to light up the world as he rushes full pelt to him. “Did you see?”

Hauling him up in both his arms, Cullen swings him around on the spot, his son’s jubilation spreading a broad smile that crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “What’s wrong, huh, run out of trees and walls to climb?” He scruffs up his son’s thick curls before setting him down.

Laughing, Arthur pats the wooden play sword he wears on the belt around his waist. “We challenged him to a duel, and since we won, we got to ride the bull!”

Annabel scoffs back a spluttered chortle at the phrasing which Cullen makes sure to quickly skim over. “You bested worthy opponent indeed, but can you best the Commander of the Inquisition?”

“Or the Inquisitor herself?” Leaning with her hand on one hip Annabel has gracefully perched against his side, where she belonged.

Arthur’s eyes light up, and he nods eagerly. “Yeah! Kids versus grown ups! Kids versus grown-ups!” He declares the chant at the top of his lungs as he pulls his miniature sword free, and his cousins promptly gather around him to join in the rallying cry. Between them all, they had produced quite the brood, and Cullen suddenly feels like his suggestion had perhaps been a bad idea.

“I’ve got cake!” Rosalie’s shout saves the day as she emerges with Branson carrying rolled up picnic blankets. Dropping their swords as one Bran, Julie, Arthur, William and Evelyn all rush over to the goodies, followed by two giddy toddlers who struggle on uncertain legs to catch up.

“Looks like she saved your ass there chief,” Bull mocks before beginning to absently wander towards the gathering. “Hmm, I wonder if she has those little fluffy ones with the pink frosting…”

Cullen shakes his head at the throng of his extended family. Mia naturally takes charge of seating the children while the other adults set out the brunch consisting of tea and cakes. For all the chaos, never had his heart felt so full. The laughter of his children, and his nieces and nephews bringing nourishing joy with it.

Still by his side, Annabel wraps her arm loosely around his waist to rest her head on his shoulder. It seems he would get cake and cuddles after all, but there would be nothing quiet about it. And turns out, that is just how he likes it.

-----

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it, if so likes, reblogs, comments and kudos really do mean alot to us writers and help us keep going!

Can’t believe it’s over... I’ll still write Cullen fanfic, I love him too much to stop, but mostly likely just more one shots. 

[deathbyvalentine]

Prompts

http://ko-fi.com/illjolras

Yellow Roses Only Grow There Now.

Alice touched the petals of the rose with her fingertips. They were not how she remembered. They didn’t need paint, nor water, nor pruning. They had started taking care of themselves, somewhere along the way. They looked like how they were supposed to. Not pristine. Not artificial. 

The rest of the maze had followed suit. There were more dead ends than not now, walls where there were once entrances. Alice thought she liked it better like this - the hedgehogs rustling away through the undergrowth, the flamingos calling to each other without their wings being clipped.

It was lonely though. Toppling a monarchy did have it’s consequences, and the entire court had moved. At least, she thought they had. It was entirely possible they just faded, becoming not even the shadow of ghosts. After all these years, she still wasn’t sure how this place worked. But she liked the nonsense now, rather than fighting against it. 

She walked the maze, the bits she could. She recognised some chunks from her childhood, her dreams, memories that came to her in the moments before sleep. It had changed though. As she had. It had grown, gotten bigger without getting smaller again afterwards. Gotten darker without gaining light. 

She came here often, to be alone without being disturbed. To trail her fingers in the river and watch the rockinghorseflies scatter. To lie in the sun in the forest of forgetting until she dozed, hearing the gentle crooning of far off bees. She would find pocket watches and gloves shoved in the hollows of trees, as though discarded in a hurry (predictably). Bits of white armour scattered in the long grass. Even songs written on wisps of paper, caught in blackberry bushes after being thrown by the wind.

She wasn’t sure she liked it better, not necessarily. But it felt more like her.

A Whittle Goes a Long Way

If anybody else had carved it, she might have been afraid of it. But she was incapable of finding anything her father made frightening. His hands were too soft for that, his eyes too kind. And so the carved face sitting on the tree at the head of their path became not stern, but kindly. Not twisted, simply old. The branches that seemed once to be grasping hands now resembled an open palm. 

It still discouraged intruders, especially at night. Better than any guard dog. Anybody that didn’t know her father wouldn’t see the love carved within the lines. Wouldn’t see the affection. What you didn’t know could utterly blind you.

Which is why she never saw the ribbons of flesh hanging from the branches after dark dark nights, or the missing posters littering the lane like dead leaves.

100 words, step by step putting on a shirt.

First, make sure you have left the shirt on a foolish place on the floor. The buttons still done up, apart from a single one at the top from where you shrugged it off the night before, too lazy to undo them all.

Then, leave your bedroom door open while you slumber, naive to the chaos that is about to happen. Then, crucially, own two cats. One will be an observer, the other the model.

Your model cat will wiggle into the shirt from the bottom and rapidly become trapped. You didn’t ask for a guide how to take off the shirt. Good luck.

The Booted Angel

People saw him fairly often actually. He wasn’t a rare sighting. A lot of new people on the scene failed to realise they had seen something special at all. It would only be later, days or years when they would hear a story, and it would click, and they would sit bolt upright, remembering. Or sometimes they wouldn’t realise until they were in the middle of their salvation, and they would put two and two together.

He always showed up when he was needed. If you could deal with something on your own, don’t even bother asking. He wasn’t here to coddle you. But about to get jumped in an alley with five homophobes and no escape route? Have to carry a hundred bags out of your transphobic dad’s house with no car in the pouring rain? Creepy dude twice your age in a club refusing to respect your personal space?

He would appear. As if from nowhere. Leather cladding him like armour. His boots made a resounding, satisfying thud with every step, and you could hear him clench his fist, the meeting of leather on leather. And he would show no fear as he talked to the homophobes in the only language they understood, meticulously cleaning the blood from his gloves afterwards. Or he would effortlessly shoulder the bags you couldn’t carry, and introduce you to a friend he knew who ran a shelter. He would put himself between every creepy dude trying to touch you or your drink, face as impassable as a stone wall until they finally fucked off. And he didn’t ask for anything in return. 

He saved people in more ways than practically. He reminded queer kids they were not alone, that not all adults in their lives would be so shit. Reminded the lonely that they had a whole family waiting for them, because love is more important than blood. Reminded the religious that their god loved them, or the atheists that there was good in humanity. Though, admittedly, it was hard to explain away the shimmering rainbows that formed his wings when he stood underneath the nightclub lights. People stopped looking for an explanation, almost worried that questioning it too closely would make him disappear.

He never did disappear. He stayed, even as the clubs, bars and pubs around him changed. He stayed when others his age fell sick and faded. Stayed when schools wouldn’t speak of their existence. Stayed when the pardons were finally issues. It became a rite of passage for the new kids to meet him, usually stumbling home with someone unadvisable as the first fingers of dawn touched the horizon. He stayed where his people were and his people were right here.

Where the Mind Goes Under Anaesthetic 

I guess it was foggy or something, I don’t know, but either way I couldn’t see. The fog wasn’t cold but it clung, forming swirls and following my hand when I waved it in front of me. It wasn’t dark or anything, in fact, there was light all around. Somewhere I could hear birdsong but it was too far away to get to, or at least I thought it was until I looked down and saw a path lying at my feet and decided to follow it.

It didn’t get louder but it did get closer and before long I was in front of a glass house, the type you grow exotic plants in. The glass might have been crystal or something because it was turning the light into rainbows and throwing them inside, and when I looked inside that’s where the birds were. All singing, all bathed in rainbows. There were so many species I couldn’t name them all and I think some were like, undiscovered and shit. I could be the first maybe, and they’d name them after me.

But when I get inside they stop singing and all look at me and I realise I’m bleeding. And I’m embarrassed, like it’s something to be ashamed of as this gash opens right in the middle of me, and I have to press my hands to it to keep my insides in. I can’t do anything else, just cover the wound and hope they stop looking at me, the blood and gore pooling on the floor at my feet. I want to cry, not ‘cos it hurts, though it does, but because I’ve spoilt this lovely place with my pain.

I wake up then and I’m sewn up and they say the bad thing is taken out of me now and things will be better. I hope they’re right. I really hope they’re right.

Roses and Bluebirds

Alexei plunged his hand into the basket, finding a blossom and crushing it into his palm. Red juice painted his palms and it took him a moment to realise that the roses hadn’t been removed of their thorns, and some of the red was his own blood. He cursed, pulled his hand back and spent the next several minutes pulling thorns from his flesh. He supposed there was a lesson in here somewhere, but he wasn’t entirely sure what it was. He was never the learning lessons type. 

Another noble might have complained to the palace gardener, but at least he had just enough self awareness to know this was very much his own fault. He thought his self awareness was often the only real thing that set him apart from the other idiots here. He wandered further into the snow-covered gardens, enjoying the cold bite of winter. Everyone else was inside, curled up near open fires and drinking hot chocolate. Alexei wasn’t even wearing a coat. The cold had managed to add the softest brush of red onto his cheeks however, and he wouldn’t be able to stay out much longer.

The birdbath was frozen over. He lit a cigarette and sat on the bench opposite, telling himself that he would smoke it then go find Stefan to warm him back up. There was a fluttering of wings and Alexei half expected to see a bullshit fairy or something come to bother him, but was surprised. A small bluebird flew to the edge of the birdbath and pecked at the frozen water. Was it stupid? Couldn’t it see there was no winning here?

Yet he found himself rooting for it all the same. The bird with no idea how futile its actions were, trying its hardest because to it, it had no other option. Imagine his surprise when the beak broke through, and it managed to take a long draught of water. Alexei blinked, astonished, his cigarette burnt halfway down with not a single pull taken.

“Huh.”

Under the Wallpaper/Infection 

She couldn’t stop picking at it, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what lay underneath. It was like a scab, begging to be picked at. It had started several weeks ago, the dark mark on the lush green wallpaper. It had grown day by day, going from a spot the size of a fingernail to a palm to a book case. Then it had started smelling. Not exactly unpleasant, but something like rotting leaves or wet earth. 

The oddest thing was that it appeared nowhere else in the apartment. And there was no leaking pipes, no other mould, no sign of what it could be. Once it had stopped growing, it just sat there. She didn’t like to look at it. Not directly. When she tried, her eyes slid straight over it, her thoughts wandering to somewhere else before she realised. When looking at it indirectly, something heavy and sickening settled in her stomach until she stopped.

Her nail slipped under the edge of the paper and she hesitated. Was it her imagination or could she hear rustling? She battled the push back from her mind. She had to know. She pinched the corner and tugged. It peeled away like a damp plaster from a sore, almost dripping with moisture. 

It was not black underneath. It was dark, dark red. It was not smooth underneath. It bubbled, darkened lumps under a layer of the scarlet slime. It seemed to pulse and move, like some monstrous heart beating in the centre of the house. She let the paper slip to the floor, fingers as slack as her now open mouth. Some perverted part of her mind urged her to touch it, to reach out and see what it felt like. She also got the feeling that if she did that, it would get into her skin, her veins. 

And then maybe she wouldn’t be able to leave.

Coarse/Youth 

They were not elegant young men. They owned no kid gloves or gold watches. They would inherit no wealth, no lands, no titles. But they did have something their masters didn’t have. Each other.

Jonathan first fell in love with Tobias when they were tilling the fields. Tobias took his shirt off, and Jonathan’s eyes followed the single bead of sweat down between his shoulder blades, down his spine, and to the top of his trousers, where his braces lay slack against his thighs. Tobias caught him looking, and a smile broke over his face like the dawn sun breaks the horizon.

They first kissed in the stables, damp from the persistent drizzling rain. Jonathan’s hair had curled, getting in the way of his eyes and Tobias had pushed them back with a coarse hand before he paused. They looked at each other, the only noises the water and the horses huffing to themselves. Then they were kissing, lips hot and desperate, arms winding around each other as though they were drowning. The chill soon was dashed from Jonathan’s skin, though the goosebumps were not. 

Tobias fell in love slower, though it was a sweet, sure thing. All the hours of lying in fields, exploring the forest, taking care of new lambs, washing their clothes, falling into bed exhausted. They saw each other as they truly were, and once you’ve seen someone in their most vulnerable, unselfconcious moments, how could you not love them? Tobias fell in love a little more every time he watched Jonathan wash his face, or yawn before his morning coffee, or concentrate while darning a hole in his sock. 

It was of course, not always idyllic. Tobias could be vain, Jonathan could be headstrong, and they were both often convinced they were entirely right. But they kept coming back to each other, an irresistible pull they were unable to resist. Broadly, Jonathan decided, he was okay with that. A lifetime of summers with the man next to him was something akin to paradise.

Training Days at the Academy

He found it weirdly soothing in a way. Nobles got special treatment, of course they did, but there was only so far you could push it. So here he was, on his knees, scrubbing the floor from where he had left muddy boot marks from shore leave. 

He had never scrubbed a damn floor in his life. Therefore, it had the air of novelty. Therefore, it was fun. He was something of a simple soul and he took a huge amount of pleasure in setting things in order. He was sure a psychologist would say something about how it ordered his mixed up thoughts, but that was probably poppycock. 

It showed mostly in his work with his machines though. Cleaning his gun, modding his implants, even just checking status updates he did with a methodical concentration that was present literally nowhere else in his life. It became muscle memory with some of it, weapons particularly, his mind simply picturing the metal as an extension of himself.

It was nice that he had some parts of the training he was happy with. His disdain of tutors had very much remained from his childhood, and he found himself biting back retorts so hard he cut his tongue. His instinctive reaction to criticism was to lash out, to criticise back, but that wasn’t so much of an option here. The superior officers had dealt with little shits like him before and made sure he knew it. 

But the routine kept him busy. Finding things for his hands and mind to do was a constant challenge. He worked for as long as he could simply to put off the time he’d have to go to bed and stare at the ceiling, skin itching, mind buzzing.

Grendel Raiding

Matthias whooped, leaning as far over the prow of the ship as he could without falling into the tossing sea. The sun was beating down on them, throwing sparkles and bright beams into the air. He forgot how much he loved this. He had only been a ship for short trips before, nothing like this. He was Freeborn, it was in his blood to walk on ships as easily as on land, but it was easy to forget that.

Harlequin’s ship was decadent. Full of wine and cushions and fine Leaguish food. A bit too rich for Matthias, truth be told, but enjoyable all the same. It wasn’t all luxury though. There were also weapons being polished and maintained, shields being repaired and carved, arrows being made faster than could be counted. When you looked towards the horizon, you could see yet more billowing sails.

It would be easy to let the sense of excitement permeate and let you become giddy. To think of this almost as a festival rather than the deeply dangerous mission it was. Matthias had never fought before. Only sparred with his Kohan, never stepped foot on a real battlefield. And now here he was, waging war.

He could feel the spirit of the Coast inside him, calling out for Grendel blood. For vengeance. To take their gold and bring it back to its new home. To call the names of his dead as he slashed and fought, to know he was celebrating their lives in the best way possible. 

He would make them bleed for himself, for his nation.

Josie’s Picture

The Weasel King furled and unfurled, curling it’s tail in long, looping swirls. It placed it’s paws before the comparatively tiny knight and sniffed at her, cocking it’s head curiously. 

“What brings you here?” It’s voice was a drawling thing, filled with a thousand years of life or more. It took all the time it needed, would not be rushed or hurried. It’s voice was deep enough that the soil trembled and the knight could feel it through her feet.

She knelt, remembering her manners in the nick of time, and presenting her sword up. There was an approving murmur from the gigantic creature. “I come seeking answers, your... highness?” She trailed off, peering up to gauge the reaction. 

“Highness, your majesty, lord, almighty will all do fine.” It tittered. “What answers do you seek child?”

“I wish to know how to be as wise as you. Your knowledge is spoken of for miles around, and it is whispered that you are never wrong. I hope to be the ruler of my kingdom one day, and I hope to be a wise one.”

The Weasel King considered. “This, I can teach you child. But first, you must shed your armour and lay down your sword, and renounce your questing.” The Knight blinked. “Why?” “Because, small one, you cannot be the wisest if you meddle. I have learnt all I have learnt because I have observed. I travel and leave no footsteps. I watch and make no sound. I have seen heroic achievements and grave injustices, and committed them to memory. I am a record keeper, a witness.”

“But... It’s said you’re magical. And powerful. That you could stir armies to your name and weave enchantments that could alter our world. That you have a people to rule, not just a title.” “That is also true child.” “Then... I think I’ve found the first thing you’ve been wrong about. You cannot be a ruler, well, a just ruler if you refuse to lift a paw when people need you. How many famines have there been? How many wars? And you justify your cowardice by framing it as an intellectual exercise? No! I retract my words - I do not want to be wise if it means being unfeeling.”

She threw the sword at the Weasel King’s feet, and began the long walk home. She did become the ruler of her kingdom. She did what she could for her people, pouring her blood and hope and love into the very soil she watched over. She did not live a long life and many would argue she was not wise. But she was beloved and Great.

From the Ashes of Disaster In her dreams, the sky was red and it was snowing. When she bared her hands, palm up and caught the flakes, they did not melt. They smeared. Soon, her palms were painted grey. It was ash, still hot, still burning. Kasimere woke up, her skin covered in sweat and the smell of burning was in the distance. The world was lit up with screams, from animals and human alike, and for a moment she wondered if this too was a nightmare. 

Something in her felt different. Fundamentally changed. Like she had glanced inside her mind and found something rotting, and now it was tainting everything it had touched. And her heart was beating faster, and her fists were clenching so tight they were painting her palms with blood-red crescents, and her jaw ached from how tightly she had been wound. Part of her mind thrashed against the rage, thinking of the Emperor, of the grounding earth, of the harvest, but quietly, quietly, it sunk under the wave of Khorne. Soon, there was little of her mind left.

Her mind did not become slow, or lethargic. Rather, it moved quickly, making calculations and decisions at the speed of light, callously discarding anything and everyone that didn’t matter. She knew, deep in her heart, that nobody else mattered, not really. All the parishioners she had cared for - sheep. All these imperials on her planet? Dogs. The food chain was so clear to her now. She was a wolf. She wanted to bear her teeth.  She wanted to rip and rend and tear and show them exactly where they stood.

When she left her small cottage, tambourine in one hand, scythe in the other, her village was in Chaos. There was only the dullest thud of grief as she saw the body of a sister, a cousin. The grief turned into anger so easily, and she no longer had the means to resist it. Some music whispered at the edge of her hearing. The words blamed the off-worlders, these soldiers that had utterly failed to protect her. They pointed out how things had only went wrong when they arrived. They laughed about how rude they had been, how inhospitable, how unkind. All the things that were the antithesis to Kasimere. Once, it would have made her sad. Now, it made her furious.

She was the predator here. She knew that now. And so would they.

Sail Away from Hush-a-by Mountain

He trailed his hand in the cool, pale water, watching the ripples spread out from the tips of his fingers. It was so clear he could see the mosaic of pebbles sitting at the bottom of the lake and the quick silver fish that darted between them. Above him, the sky was pearly white framing the tips of the mountains topped with snow. The only sounds were the sail snapping quietly against the wind, distant bird song and the ever-present ripple of water. Peace reigned. 

When We Weren't Looking the Tide Came In

The water lapped at our calves, insistent and tender. The sky was the soft blue of the evening, the once golden sand turning grey as the moon rose. Soon, there would be stars. We were going to die here but at least it was beautiful. 

We had waited too long to leave and an island had formed around us. There was only a small circle of sand left, and soon it would be overtaken. The land seemed all the more beautiful for knowing it was the last time we would see it. Something being temporary rendered it all the more precious. 

We sat, burying our toes in the still warm sand, the sea running over them. She sat close enough to me I could feel her heat too, the hair on my arms prickling from sheer proximity. There were worse ways to die than falling asleep on a beach with someone you loved. We didn’t speak - the air was too soft to disturb. But she reached out and took my hand, and together we waited. 

How Can You Tell I'm Under a Spell

The buzzing started quietly at first. Just on the edge of hearing. Enough to set your teeth on edge but not enough to really notice. But your skin was prickling, and your nails found your skin, and suddenly you were angry.

At some point the buzzing starts to make sense of itself. It starts to sound like music. Jarring notes and harsh melodies, but music all the same. It took root inside you, deep and demanding, thrumming in time with the beating of your heart. 

Maybe, soon it starts to sound better. It starts to sooth. You lean into the anger and it doesn’t hurt you. But you know that you can turn it into a weapon and it can certainly hurt someone. For once, it can be someone else. For once, you can be at the top of a hierarchy, not being crushed underneath. 

You realise you might even like it.

The Brigadier and the Batman

They had known each other from childhood, always in each other’s shadows, always tripping over each other. They liked it that way. There was a comfort in knowing someone as well as you know yourself. It was like always counting the number of steps correctly in the dark.

And then the war came, and they needed that support more than ever. The rest of the world had ceased to make sense. They had to have one constant, something that could be relied on. So one rose to dizzy heights, and the other stayed at his side, as was only right and proper. James had always been the one looking after the idealistic Theo, always with his head in the clouds. And in the trenches, on the boats, curled in close quarters, they were together. They shared everything, rations, letters, cigarettes and when the winter came in, warmth. 

Morning was their favourite time. Shaving each other, fingers tenderly pressing to the underside of his jaw to tilt his head up, the utter trust in allowing someone so close to the throat. James liked straddling Theo, bare chested, close enough to not miss a single spot. James was never good with words, this is how he showed his love. With service, with tender acts, with taking care of someone. Theo was the poet. He traced words on James’s back while they lay together. They couldn’t afford to have anything that could be found, so he declared his love in whispers and traced patterns. It worked, somehow. It worked.

The bombs tumbled from the sky and shook the earth. You could place your palms to the ground and feel the vibrations. Theo stroked James’s hair, curled up on the bomb shelter mattress, feeling like they were the only people on earth while hoping desperately they would not be by the time this was all over.

Elsie has a natural affinity with wolves; Othello likes cats.

He leaned on the windowsill, looking down into the courtyard below. There was a light dusting of frost coating every stone, the sky a threatening pearly white. There would be snow soon, and they’d all be even more contained within the castle. It could turn into a prison in more ways than one. Perhaps that was why Elsie was making the most of it. Othello couldn’t help but smile at the sight below. 

Elsie was sitting cross legged, ruffling the ears of the huge creature dead in front of her. Elsie was not a small woman, but the wolf made her look tiny by comparison. She bared her teeth at it when it growled at her, the threat soon turning into a laugh as it lunged at her, knocking her to the ground and proceeding to lick her face with some enthusiasm. It was the first time Othello had seen her look so carefree, as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. He realised not only how young she was, but how young they all were. Too young for this.

There was a chirping from by his feet and he glanced down to see the castle’s cat curling around his ankles, headbutting him every now and again in a desperate bid for attention. He squinted for a moment, making sure it wasn’t Strahd in disguise and fucking with him, before picking it up, placing it on the window ledge so it too could observe the scene in front of them.

Othello liked cats. He liked their independence, their sleek nature, the amount of personality differences they could have. You couldn’t make a cat like you. They either did or they didn’t. Dogs were easily bought. He scritched the ears of the creature beside him, hearing the approving purr that told him he was tolerated. Below, the playfighting had stopped, and Elsie had buried her face in the wolf’s fur, clutching tight. She might have been laughing, she might have been crying. It was impossible to tell. She was never like this around them.

Maybe he was starting to see the appeal of dogs.

"Hello, I'm Sam, and this is my friend, Lex."

The aforementioned Lex peeked around the taller man and waved his perfectly manicured fingers. They could not have looked more different. The ultimate odd couple. The smaller one looked vamperic, pale with scarlet lips and eyes. The taller was more rugged, more handsome. Warmer too, as if his nature softened his edges, took away any cruelty. Lex was all sharp corners and angles.

“We’re here to help.” Sam continued, fumbling in a pocket to find a small note. “The manager of the inn sent us. Said your house is haunted?”

They were shown in, Lex clearly trying to hide his disdain for the humble surroundings. The floorboards were faded, some places worn into grooves from hundreds of years of footsteps. The curtains were stiff with dust, their scarlet colour faded to a dull rust. The wind blowing over the chimney top made a whistling fill the house. It was eerie, they had to give the inn manager that. But Lex didn’t scare easily, and this was not even scary enough for him to love it instead. Sam, by contrast, had started exploring, whistling in time to the howling wind, apparently in high spirits.

They heard it when they got to the second floor, below the trap door that lead to the attic. The hurried scratching, scuffling, like fingernails on planks. According to the current occupant, a moody girl of thirteen who’s parents were at work in the mill, two years ago their grandmother had died up there. Since then, they couldn’t rent the attic. People woke up with scratches, reports of seeing unblinking eyes, and of course that horrid scrabbling noise.

“Is it dusty up there?” Lex inquired. “This coat is expensive.” Sam nudged him in the ribs, and with a sigh Lex shrugged it off, folding it gently and placing it to the side. “I’ll let you go first darling.” Sam took a deep breath and tugged on the trap door, ascending once the ill-constructed ladder had clattered down. Lex, for all his huffing and puffing, followed. What occurred after was apparently a great battle. An hour passed with much cursing, shouting and thumping. The girl half wondered if she should shut them up there and cut her losses. But then, triumph! 

Sam descended first, his arms torn with claws, a grin on his face. Lex came after, smiling much, much less and holding by the scuff of the neck a very angry raccoon.

[bouncepawwritesstuff]

Catseye

Summary: The Vault of the Traveler was supposed to set them all up for a good long while, but all it did was rip a friend away from them and set forward a series of events they could have never foreseen.

It's been over a year and a half since Rhys vanished into the Vault and wasn't sent back out. As much as it pains them, they've had to move on with their lives. But fate, and the Eridians, have far more planned for them they ever could've thought.

Word Count: 3,338

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Pairings: Queerplatonic/Early Rhys/Vaughn

Notes: This is my first foray into the Borderlands fandom. I just started playing the games about a month ago after I picked up Tales as part of a Humble Bundle. There's more planned for this if people end up being interested in it. First in a possible series.

This operates under the assumption that the Vaults were more than repositories for some bad ass loot.

It was supposed to be an easy job. Something to shake the dust off, warm them back up into the vault hunting business after months and months of searching for their missing fourth friend and little actual combat. It had been almost a year and half since Rhys had disappeared with the light of the vault and had not been spat back out with Fiona.

For Fiona, bare seconds had passed, but it had been weeks of frantic searching where Sasha, Athena and Janey and Vaughn and countless Children of Helios had scoured hundreds of miles of desert for them while Gortys and Loader Bot did their best to try and track his cybernetics in an effort to find them both, old Hyperion software turned to better purpose.

Her return had been cause for celebration, but it was short lived when they realized Rhys was not with her and that they still had no idea where the wayward cybernetic man was gone to.

Eventually though Athena and Janey needed to return to Hollow Point to run the garage and the Children needed to focus on building their lives out of the metal graveyard of the space station. Vaughn would come out when he could be spared for a few days, but the Village in the Ruins needed it's leader, even as the Children became braver, bolder and more at home on Pandora.

Sasha and Fiona never gave up, picking up odd jobs at various settlements as they drive the caravan around, desperately hoping to hear some rumor of a lanky suit out of his element or a sight of overly flashy cybernetics.

Eventually, even Sasha gave up, though it was obvious it broke her heart to do. To her, Rhys was like the older dorky brother she never knew she wanted, and despite the shortness of the time they'd known him, he'd grown on them, like some stupid large asshole cat too cute for his own good.

Zer0 and the other hunters offered to keep an ear to the ground and Janey released Athena to them to restart their training.

Vaughn took the news hardest of all, and Fiona had too many nights of waking up to heart-broken whimpers in the room next door, turning over and pressing a pillow over her ears to offer what semblance of privacy she could in the thin walls of their constructed apartment.

(Fiona tried so, so hard not to think of quiet nights on the caravan chugging towards the Atlas dome. Tried not to remember gentle fingers in amber locks, soft smiles and warm words exchanged in the soft blue glow of a cybernetic eye. Of soft fingers over scarred flesh and warm metal. Of an easy affection that spoke of years of a deep emotional connection that she could probably never hope to comprehend.)

That had been almost three months ago. Vaughn had thrown himself into the care of the Village in the Ruins  and his Children, still carrying about him the mein of a man in mourning. No one mentioned it when he returned from a three day patrol, smelling faintly of fire and moonshine, a familiar pattern inked into the side of his neck in a shade of blue.

And Fiona and Sasha? They dealt with the loss in the only way they knew how. A crime spree in several settlements, leaving them baffled with pretty faces and quick words and gunfire. And now?

This mission was supposed to be simple. Athena was in Hollow Point with Janey again, settling for popping in on them every few weeks. She figured this job would be good for them. A camp of bandits that had been harassing the Village in the Ruins as not many did now that the Children had such a fearsome reputation for defending their little patch of the playground.

Only, the camp seemed deserted.

Or, rather, not deserted, but destroyed. Like some huge trample of animals or maybe one of the other vault hunters had paid a visit and left this in their wake. Corpses lay strewn about carelessly, likely where they fell, and blood had leaked and caked into the sand, leaving behind frankly disgusting stains in the dirt. Tents lay rended on their poles and fires were scattered from their rings and barrels.

Ok, this was too much chaos for even one of the other vault hunters. Even Krieg didn't leave such destruction in his path. And the marks! Like deep claws had sunk into flesh and torn away, flaying open flesh in thick neat lines, some larger than others. There was likely no one alive in the entire camp, but they were careful as they moved forward, guns ready to spring up at a moment's notice.

"What do you think it was? Skag pack?" Even as Sasha said it aloud, Fiona could hear the disbelief in her voice and she shook her head, pulling up the scarf to cover her nose, desperately trying to block out the copper scent of blood that soaked the land.

"Not even a rabid skag pack could do this much damage. And no bodies? Any half-assed bandit with a gun can take out a couple skags. There would be something. No crush marks so it's definitely not some horrible variety of bullymong making their home here in the dessert."

The sisters shared a shudder at the mere thought of that.

"Maybe Athena knows?" Fiona wrinkled her nose at the thought of disturbing their mentor so early into their first mission back but this was very quickly becoming apparent that it was well out of their level of expertise.

"Yeah, alright. Take a look around but stay within sight." Sasha rolled her eyes but gave her an affectionate hip check as she passed her and Fiona opened up her comm, scrolling until she came to Athena's business comm frequency. It rang for only a few moments before Athena's frowning face came into view.

"I really can't leave you two alone for more than a few days can I?" She gruffed and Fiona could hear Janey's bright laugh in the background.

"I'd take more offense to that if we weren't so out of our depth here." Something in her voice must have caught Athena's attention because she was suddenly closer to the screen, face set in a mask of consternation.

"Show me." Was all she said and Fiona turned the comm around so Athena could see the wreck of the destroyed camp. Judging by the intake of breath from the other end, it was something unusual even for the veteran vault hunter.

"No animal bodies, just bandits. Bandit bodies and these claw marks, but nothing else besides  a lot of blood."

"I got something!" Fiona sighed. Leave it to her kid sister to find something just as she was reporting on the lack of nothing around them. Fiona loped over to where she was crouching in the sand near the base of one of the ruined tents. There in the sand was something glinting and purple, some viscous liquid refusing to meld into the sand like all the blood around them.

"Get to the caravan. Now." Both sisters exchanged alarmed looks and Fiona turned the comm back, prepared to demand an explanation of her but Athena was being helped into her armor by Janey. "Don't argue! Into the caravan and lock the door. I'm going to fast travel to the Village and meet you there. Do not drive! You'll only attract it's attention."

Self-preservation won out over curiosity and both women made their way swiftly back to the caravan, bolting the door behind them and pulling the heavy metal shade down over the windshield. Athena had hung up on them, but Sasha almost instantly got a call from Vaughn. Behind Vaughn they could see the Children scrambling into technicals, whooping and hollering the whole while.

"Athena just got here and we're mobilizing. We'll be at your location in about an hour. Athena wants us to stop about a mile away and come on foot."

"Did she tell you what we were dealing with? She just saw the purple stuff and told us to book it back to the caravan." Before Vaughn could answer Athena's voice rang in from behind.

"Muscles! Give me that comm and drive!" There was a tussle as the comm was passed off and the roaring of the technicals filled the air and Athena's face was back, grim and pale ina  way they'd never seen before, even when she was facing down the end of Vallory's rocket launcher.

"Will someone just tell us what's going on?!" Sasha's patience was waning in the way it did when the situation was out of her control for too long. To be fair, Fiona was feeling the same way and she watched intently as Athena sighed heavily and looked so very uncharacteristically unsure.

"There's- well there's no real name for them. Just stories, legends that started coming around shortly after people started hearing about vaults and Sirens. They're like guardians, especially to powerful Sirens, people bent and twisted by the power of eridium and the vault artifacts. There's only two confirmed sightings in history and the last one was a very, very long time ago. Like, hundreds of years."

She rubbed her face with one hand, leaning over to mutter something to Vaughn inaudibly. "They rampage and feed until they're at full power and then, well, no one is sure. No one survived when the last one eventually reached that level. And judging by the brutality of this attack, and the fact that most of their blood is still there, it's done feeding and it's playing now. Stretching powers and getting used to them."

Something like horror sank deep in her gut, heavy and dark and Fiona shuddered. Some awful Eridian construction, fed and bled on dozens if not hundreds of bandits, pet and protector to a very powerful Siren? That had possible apocalypse written all over it. Or at least a very bad time.

"How do we kill it?" Fiona asked, doing her best to mask her sudden crushing fear.

"We don't." At their perplexed looks Athena gave them a grim expression of determination. "Like I said, at this level it'd shred each and every one of us and then use our ribs as chew toys. Our best bet is to distract it long enough with flash bangs to get you out of there. They supposedly have excellent hearing and sight, so enough of them set off consecutively should disable it enough for everyone to safely retreat. If we're out of eyesight it should lose interest enough to leave us alone."

Nothing was spoken of whatever catastrophic event that had, in the past, killed all witnesses. Supposedly it wasn't enough to rend the planet to shreds, so maybe the impact was smaller than that, or maybe the job of the Siren and her pet had nothing to do with the planet's surface.

"Just hang tight, we'll be there shortly."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He snuffled in the crate, ignoring the cold wind on his skin, cutting through his tattered leather and cloth trousers. It was getting dark and colder still, and while the cold was no match for him, he knew his Siren hated the cold. Blankets. He needed blankets, and lots of them.

The crate yielded several thick comforters and he yanked them out, grabbing them up carefully in his claws and scurrying away from the decimated camp to the cave where his Siren lay. She was so much healthier now, but he couldn't resist the nervous tug at their bond, chuffing with relief when she pushed back with warmth-love-amusement.

Having another person in his head had taken getting used to, but his Siren felt such a part of him that the adjustment had taken mere minutes. Weeks ago, they'd been flung out into the merciless desert in  flash of purple and blue lightning. She was weak and thin, barely conscious, and he hardly stronger than a runty skag pup. But he knew what he was meant to do. Feed and grow, provide, protect his Siren. His. No one else. The last one was incomplete, unworthy, wrong, but he was perfect and she would be safe-loved-his. Nothing would stand in the way of that.

And so he'd stashed his Siren in the most spacious but secure cave he could find, and he hunted. Everything he could get his claws on he killed and bled, drinking forth their strength and making it his. If he was strong, so was she. If he was fed, so was she. His warmth, her warmth.

Every night he would curl around her, and she was so small in comparison to his own frame. She would whisper words of love and gratitude into his temple, their bond thrumming with content and his purr filling the cave. She told the stories of a man she once knew, all bright grins and love of cats and freckles high on his cheeks. Of a man with stupid socks who could make her smile no matter what. Of a man who had loved her but had gone so very, very wrong.

Sometimes, the stories annoyed him. Not that she would tell him them, but rather sometimes he felt half complete when she spoke, even with their bond humming in his head. Like there was another person in head, just out of reach of him and without him he would never be right. She would soothe him, promise him that it would come in time, and he would content himself with her declarations. His Siren knew best.

Now though, now he was strong. He hadn't meant to bleed the whole camp, only the last few he needed to be full, and then he wouldn't need to hunt for weeks, but the others wouldn't leave him alone and they tried to follow him back to the cave and he couldn't allow that. He could admit he'd gone overboard and his Siren was sure to chastise him for it but her safety was worth it.

The cave was warm for the fire that crackled merrily in the squat barrel and he tottered forward, dropping his armload of comforters on his Siren, purring at her shrieks of indignant laughter. Soon she had cocooned herself and he had dragged in enough old building timbers to keep the fire going overnight. He had just settled his body around her when  a sound caught his ear and he raised his head. His Siren's hand stilled their motions in his patchy hair as he began to growl.

People. People in vehicles. Had they come for his Siren? Knowing he wouldn't settle until he'd checked it out, his Siren gave him leave to go and he sprang out of the cave, bare feet silent on still-damp sand as he headed towards the noises.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was barely an hour but already creeping dark when Athena rang them again to let them know they could see the caravan where they were. She wanted them to ready the caravan to go, because as soon as the creature was stunned they would need to peel backwards and away, wasting no time to get away. They would only have a few minutes. Athena, Vaughn and three of their fastest runners were coming weighed down with grenades. They would stun the creature, jump into the caravan and then they would connect with all the technicals a couple miles away.

Fiona raised the shutter as Sasha settled into the driver's seat, ready to turn the key as soon as the others were in. Fiona went to the door, ready to throw it open the minute she need to. Moments later the raiding party was there and Athena nodded, watching as one of the Children yanked a pin out of a grenade and tossed it into the dirt.

There was a sharp crack and a muted flash of light and then silence.

Then a roar shook the camp and a humanoid shape came crashing to the ground from one of the cliffs surrounding the camp, leaving a huge crater in the sand. The creature roared, a sound human vocal cords should not be able to make. But then again, according to Athena, it wasn't really human anymore, was it?

Everyone cocked their arms back, prepared to throw the grenades when a flicker of fire passed over the creature's face and Fiona felt herself freeze in utter horror just as Vaughn's scream rent the air.

"STOP!"

The Children immediately lowered their arms even as Athena hissed a curse at him. Even the creature stopped, lowering its arms and settling down into all fours. Athena's face turned the color of spoiled cream and she gasped and Fiona felt what little strength she had leave her knees as she slammed the door open noisily, spilling into the sand as if she could do nothing else, her sister behind her.

Rhys.

It was Rhys, it just had to be. He was tall still, so stupidly tall, and lanky but there was whipchord muscle there now, rippling as he shifted. His metallic arm was all chrome and black, purple lights twinkling here and there and his eyes, purple and slitted both watched them with confusion and hope and caution. Both hands ended in wicked claws and one fang hung over his lip. His hair, once so sleek and full, was shorter and uneven, like it had been groomed with unsteady claws and small black and purple horns, probably half a foot, jutted out of the top of his skull.

Wounds marred pale skin, some old, some new and still dripping pale purple fluid and they mixed with a terrible beauty into the new vibrant blue and purple tattoos that tracked over his entire torso, dipping into the waistband of his pants.. He was crouched in the sand like a dog, a long black tail with a purple tuft swishing in the air, a curious little whining sound leaving him and he took a few cautious steps forward. He walked on two legs and with an odd sinuous grace that was distinctly not human.

Athena raised her gun, making as if to shoot him out of instinct but Vaughn surged towards the other man, babbling his name all the while and bowling into him. Rhys went with momentum happily, rolling with Vaughn in the sand and nuzzling him, Vaughn's watery voice mixing with Rhys' high sounds of what was unmistakably joy.

Eventually they came to a stop, Rhys comfortably sprawled out under the smaller man, eyes closed and purring as Vaughn burrowed into his chest. It seemed like a moment they were very much not meant to witness and the Children had already turned away, Athena as well.

"Aww that's really cute!" They whipped around to the new voice and came face to face with a young girl. She was wearing fairly put together leathers in white and gold of all colors, and her long black hair was braided with obvious care, except for where it was shorn close to her head, revealing metallic ports. She was gazing at the scene with open affection as she swung her legs from her perch on an outcropping. She was barely a teen, maybe fourteen at most but she radiated power like nothing Fiona had ever felt in her life, except for maybe the vault.

Oh. Her brain put together the pieces faster than she would've thought possible at the moment. This must be the Siren.

"And who are you?"

The girl took her eyes off the scene to look at Athena, blue eyes calculating for a moment before she grinned widely and jumped lightly down, moving towards them with a grace that belied her age.

"Yea I suppose that's as good a place as any to start, since I can't imagine managing to pull those two apart any time in the near future." Her voice was light with honest joy and amusement.

"So, uh, yea! Hi, I'm Angel."

[miu-paras]

Lvl. 5 ⋮ Red // Chapter 4

September 20th, 2019. 2:00 AM. ♪ - Bourgeoisie / Crimson Throne

TW: blood, violence, body horror

Rael always smiled the hardest around Iannis kar Ulmervis.

Iannis… The inventor’s child.

They weren’t nearly as socially inept as their ima was. They moved and spoke and acted with all the elegance of a noble despite not coming from such a background. Their touch was as comforting as gentle ocean winds caressing the skin, and their voice as intoxicating as the sweet nectar of Maladian pine fruits. They were as sharp as their own ima, capable and full of wit. Always kept the Minister’s young successor on their toes. Rael never grew tired of them, never parted from them for too long, swore endlessly their devotion to them. Always at their beck and call.

“How disappointing.” Kalar voiced their disapproval aloud, but only to an audience of one. The Grand Minister had since retired to their quarters with Umvis after a less than enjoyable meeting with their advisory. Eshta, in a surprise to no one, was absent, with Iannis acting as a representative in their stead. Perhaps this delighted Rael, but Kalar had grown more than tired of the young future partisan’s unnecessary acerbity, especially when Kalar rightfully questioned their judgement. It was as if they enjoyed the sour glares that the Minister gave them, the broiling looks of disapproval.

The resentment that practically rolled off their skin.

Umvis observed Kalar’s frustration, and rather than offering sympathy, they merely chuckled. Kalar’s head quickly veered in their direction, hoping their piercing glare with silence their laughter. It didn’t, of course, and Umvis merely stared up at them with a kind smile.

“My dear… I’m starting to think you are merely looking for reasons to dislike the child simply because you are jealous.”

“I do not get jealous.” Kalar sneered, rolling their eyes to such an accusation. They turned their gaze away from Umvis, arms crossed and resting in their lap. Kalar would deny it for as long as they could, but if Umvis could see it, then they were far from hiding it well. Kalar had grown envious of Iannis’ connection with their child. However, it was not formed from some internalized parental instinct to protect and shield their children from the pain that existed in the world, from disappointment or heartbreak. No… Kalar simply disliked the idea of being replaced as the most important figure in Rael’s life. A loss of control… that was something they couldn’t tolerate. Because as far as Kalar was concerned, no one was good enough to fill their shoes. Especially Eshta’s little harlot.

Umvis sensed their tension, and rather than running away from it like most would, they simply placed their hand over the folded one in Kalar’s lap. Kalar blinked, staring down at the gesture in surprise. The tension suddenly rolled off them in waves, warmth entering their expression. It was a rare sight, Kalar’s softer side. Very few were lucky enough to see it. But Umvis had always been good at breaking through Kalar’s resolutely built barriers. They have been the Minister’s longest friend, their greatest ally, the only one fully entrusted with their heart. Kalar may have thought themselves incapable of the emotion, but what they felt for Umvis truly was love. And even now, through all their pettiness, Umvis did not judge or berate them. Instead, they offered comfort and understanding.

Kalar wasted no more time on words. Instead, they repaid Umvis’ affection with their own. Kalar often wished they were born a Gris. They wanted to feel that powe, that fervent heat culminating in their chest, spreading across every inch of their skin in ripples of light and fire, at all times. But for now, this would suffice. To only feel such electricity in their quieter moments with Umvis… that was something they could live with.

It was later into the night now. Six moons hung in the sky, and Umvis had been worked into a deep slumber. Kalar was still awake, however. Kept up by something. Some voice, echoing in the back of their mind. It was not my voice, as I’d grown accustomed to falling silent at such an hour. It was another. One unfamiliar to me, and yet I recognized its essence somehow. And perhaps Kalar did too, because they sat and stared intently at something from across the room.

They stand and grab their robes, wrapping it around themselves as they traversed across the room, slowly and quietly as not to disturb their sleeping lover. As they moved closer to a tapestry closest to the door, the voice grew louder. It was more incumbering than before. As if willing Kalar forward. As if pushing them. Commanding them.

Kalar paused before the tapestry, hesitating to pull it aside until the voice was booming. Kalar winced, as if the noise only present to them was palpable to all, loud and unbearable. It’s then that they were quick to lift the tapestry, revealing a small cubby, hidden away from sight. It was kept there, among old books and trinkets. Among the few remnants of their late ima Salas Kalar had managed to save.

It was the small, steel box that carried the inventor’s discovery. It was the sh—[MEMORY REDACTED].

How did it get here… Eshta was meant to be studying the artifact—

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Kalar lifted the lid, pulling the [MEMORY REDACTED] from its containment. It was only then that the voices became quieter, more soothing. A small, yet melodic rumble against the eardrum. The Minister fell to their knees, holding the artifact close to their chest, eyes fixated on its pulsating glow.

Suddenly, the voices amplified itself again, and Kalar gasped, holding the [MEMORY REDACTED] out before them, staring deeply into its center. The words come more clearly to them this time. Words that could be understood. Directions that could be followed.

[MEMORY REDACTED]

It does not speak to me. Only to my tsanagar. A riddle in three parts. A destiny with three steps. A cycle, with a beginning, an end, a renewal.

Kalar whispers the first out loud.

“The Transgressor perishes…”

[MEMORY REDACTED]

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Many hours have passed, but the night was still young. And something ominous hung in the air.

Kalar was no longer in their quarters. They stood in another’s bedroom. The chambers of ima Malvas, who was just abruptly awakened from their sleep by their child’s surprise visit.

“Y-you—” Malvas coughed violently, the fit continuing as they sat more upright, old bones trembling as they attempted to do so. “We are in the middle of civil war… of social unrest… And yet, you c-come in here… speaking your nonsense again… you’re as… senseless as your f-fucking ima…”

Kalar, who stared out into the night sky, simply turned to face the old ruler, a gentle smile painted on their face. “Oh, ima…” They approached the bed, arms crossed behind their back as their expression remained as is. Malvas seemed more nervous, more thrown off by this. Kalar’s face appeared gentle, but their stance was menacing as they glowered down at their parent, who looked small and frail by comparison. Something Kalar had never seen in their childhood. It was a sight they could get used to.

“I have never been senseless. You never raised me that way,” their smile grew wider now. “In fact, I feel more enlightened than ever.”

“Then you truly are a fool,” Malvas spat back. “If you’ve come to spout your usual insults, then—” Another loud wheeze, “—then be out with it and be on your way. I tire… and you should too.”

“Is it hard to believe that I came here because I miss you?” Kalar eyed them with a quirked brow.

“You have never held such affections for me in your heart before, Grand Minister,” they responded, uttering the title with such contempt in their voice, to which Kalar only sighs and glances back to the open window.

“I have grown tired of hate,” they state plainly, eyes turning back to their ima, “Now, I only feel what is necessary… something you will never understand. Because that’s all you are. Hate. There’s nothing else to you. Nothing else inside you. Not love… not joy… not even avarice or pride...” Kalar’s features darkened, taking two steps forward so they were practically hovering above Malvas.

“…You are nothing but the worst parts of me.”

Kalar reached forward to carefully place a hand on their ima’s chest, only to force them on to their back once more. Malvas gasped, attempting to fight against the iron grip. But they are weak. Centuries old while Kalar is in their prime. Stronger, cleverer, more powerful than they had ever been.

“You look tired, Ima…” Kalar’s grip tightened around the fabric of their nightclothes, nails digging into the skin as Malvas fought harder, gasping and frantically clawing at their arm. Too frail to pull it away. Too lost for breath to scream.

“Let me give you rest.”

It felt as though the room was shaking. As if the earth quaked and rumbled beneath us, ready to swallow us whole. There is terror in Malvas’ eyes, and a joy so unsettling residing in Kalar’s.

They held it in their hand. The [MEMORY REDACTED]

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Blood puckers from Kalar’s fingers and around the edges where she held it, violet liquid streaking across its crystalline form. The power hurts them. Scars them. They bleed heavily, no matter how much I heal the wounds.

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Malvas shakes, convulses. Limbs contort. The voices speak louder and louder, echoing off the chamber walls

THE TRANGRESSOR PERISHES… THE TRANSGRESSOR PERISHES…

[MEMORY REDACTED]

[MEMORY REDACTED]

[MEMORY REDACTED]

 There is a balance to everything…

[MEMORY REDACTED]

[MEMORY REDACTED]

[MEMORY REDACTED]

Malvas’ body was found the next morning, encased in a massive cocoon of hardened crystal. Their body twisted and pulled apart in a way too grotesque for any to look upon.

But Kalar was not found by their ima’s bed.

Instead they were by Umvis, who was found with their limbs stretched, coiled, and wrapped around their body. Their face unrecognizable. Their mangled body entrapped in that same crystalline coffin.

And Kalar does nothing but cry. Cry and wail from a pain that not even I could heal.

The voice comes again, still speaking its next commands.

[MEMORY REDACTED]

[MEMORY REDACTED]

There is a balance to everything. A push and pull. An ebb and flow.

One and two, becomes three. The third holds the power in the end.

The third… the third...

[ It’s time to wake up. ]

The drug is called mhiconnia. Colloquially, it’s referred to as Storm’s Tears.

It’s a hallucinogen originally manufactured in Llarnis, and eventually made its way over to Nuva, no doubt through underground trading. Its silver, glittering appearance hides its true nature as a mind-altering intoxicant, one that triggers a state of instant euphoria. The high eventually fades, however, and leaves you in a state of numbness, mindlessness, and low energy that can last for several hours, days, or even months depending on how much one is exposed to. It’s meant to leave the user with nothing but a numbed mind and happy memories, leaving them ignorant and vulnerable the world around them as they dance and sway in a state of utter bliss. That’s what makes it so incredibly dangerous: the perfect ingredient for an empty-headed minion, one that can’t fight back and never says no.

I’m sure this is what Pixul intended for me. To keep me as ignorant and agreeable as possible, for as long as possible, until she needed to “sedate” me again. To make me forget the ways in which she manipulated me, to have me produce whatever it was she and her connections needed while I simply nodded and worked away as if nothing was wrong.

However, a hole existed in her plan: I was of two minds. One of which was not affected by her special little drug at all.

She didn’t count on Red.

They were the reason I remembered what happened that night, and the only reason I knew anything about Storm’s Tears. All because Red went on long tirades about my carelessness nearly every day since our return.

Granted, I’d be pretty mad at me too.

{ How many times do I have to say it before you believe me? I’m sorry. } I sighed again, firing another arrow at the practice target, adjusting the shooting glove on my hand before pulling another arrow from the quiver at my side. Archery seemed to be the best release of my frustration these days. That, and violent video games. Though I found myself coming to the shooting range more often than usual. It appears shooting things in real life was just as good at relieving my tension.

[ I’ll believe your apology once you’ve handled the problem. ]

{ The problem is handled. I had a fuck ton of that Storm’s Tears shit in my system. She probably still thinks I’m high right now. And when she gets here? We’ll take her by surprise and beat her ass. }

[ Uh huh… the same way you beat Xhen’s ass? ]

{ No, the same way I was able to escape the fucking Process. What the hell, I thought you believed in me... }

[ I’m starting to question whether I was in my right mind when I said that. ]

Grumbling, I nocked another arrow and roughly fired at the target. The arrow hits closer to the center than before, but still a ways off, causing me to sigh heavily again.

[ You hate to hear it, but it is true. Pixul is the type of person that always thinks ahead, while you merely think on a whim, which you clearly showcased that night. You were naïve, inattentive, and too quick to trust. You followed Pixul onto that dancefloor without considering the potential repercussions. ]

{ The repercussions of dancing? }

[ Of dropping your guard with a stranger, of which we now know is heavily involved in black market trading and gang wars, and made it easy for them to take advantage of you. If you’d taken the time to read their behavior, to think through your actions, we would not be in this position. ]

I raised my bow and took aim, but the way Red’s words hit me caused hesitation. My hands trembled, biting my lip as I struggled to maintain a steady grasp. Every part of me was shaking with anger. Not at Red despite how they ripped through me, but at myself. Angry at how stupid I’d acted. Sure, I could blame it on the fact that it was nearly 2AM and half my brain seemed to cease all matter of function when sleep deprived, but that was an even weaker excuse. I was to blame. My own carelessness did this. My own shortsightedness. My lack of understanding—true understanding—of the type of person Pixul was.

And now I’m lucky enough to have a chance at correcting those mistakes. The chance to catch Pixul off her guard. The chance to beat her fucking face in…

And I can’t. Because now there is exist something—someone—that complicates everything.

Iannis. Yet another Camerian lucky enough to survive the Process’ massacre.

They were Eshta’s child, meaning they had close ties with Kalar, considering they were an important figure in their courts. More importantly, they had even closer ties with my mother. Romantic ties. The very image of them together, happy and at peace, swam through my head ever since the memory surfaced. Their life together was destroyed, dead along with the rest of Camer. And even though they were still alive… they were worlds apart from one another.

I couldn’t just leave them there.

The trembling spread throughout my whole body now, making aiming an even more trying task. Defeated, I dropped my arms, tossing the arrow back into the quiver as I let out a frustrated sigh. I went and sat on the benches along the border of the training room, head resting against the wall as I breathed out heavily, blowing a stray hair away from my face. I never liked feeling stupid, or being bested either. And it didn’t help my self-esteem to be reminded that both the things I dreaded so much happened to me a month ago. All of which I still had to deal with now.

The urge to just sigh and give up on all of this, to run away from it, to hide from it, was felt so strongly within me. But hiding wouldn’t end things. It wouldn’t stop Pixul from coming for me. It wouldn’t stop Iannis from existing. It certainly wouldn’t make Red think of me as anything other than a coward.

No… I had to own up to my mistakes. Face them head-on. Running wasn’t the Miu way. And it never will be.

I stood up and treaded across the room to grab another arrow from the quiver, twirling it in my hand as I stared down the bullseye across from me. { I have a plan… }

[ Do you? ]

{ Yes... one that will get us back to Iannis and revenge on Pixul. But it will require us to be more… covert. }

I nocked the arrow and raised my bow as I aimed it towards the target. Without hesitation this time, I sent the arrow flying. A spark of hope shot through me seeing the arrow land centimeters away from the center. It wasn’t exact, but it was close enough to revel in the wave of pride that washed over me.

[ Getting better. ]

I shrugged, smiling at the compliment.

[ Your plan… what does it involve exactly? And how do we know Pixul won’t be prepared for it? ]

{ Because it involves giving Pixul exactly what she wants… }

I nocked another arrow, eyeing the bullseye with intent, with a burgeoning desire for success. I let my arrow fly, grinning as the tip pierced the small, black center.

{ Someone ready and willing. }

I was quite the fan of glitter. It was easy to tell from the amount of makeup I owned that all glittered, shimmered, or dazzled in some way. Sparkling eyeshadow, lip gloss, and blush were all applied messily and heavily to my face. I kept my hair as disheveled as possible, clothes ragged and loose. I wanted the appearance that Pixul most expected. The one of a mindless zombie. One who’d been waiting around for weeks without the motivation to so much as leave their bed. The empty-headed minion she wanted.

Hours of waiting followed. I sat cross-legged on my couch in that time, aimlessly staring at the TV and idly petting my dogs as they came and went. I even practiced my mannerisms. I slouched heavily, dragged my feet as I walked, tilted my head back and forth and side-to-side as if I were struggling to keep it in place. Anything that made my feigned Tears-induced stupor seem more believable.

At some point I figured Pixul must be waiting until it was late like last time, an assumption that was confirmed once the darkness of night rolled in. It was maybe 11:30 PM now. Some melodramatic show was playing on the TV at a low volume, and my dogs had all but passed out now. It was then that I heard loud whizzing noise that the transporter produced, followed by a thud as their heavy feet hit the roof and another as they jumped down.

I prepared myself, slouching, staring at the screen with the deadest look in my eyes. Even Red, despite not needing to be, was silent.

They fiddled with the knob for some time. I could hear the tools twisting and prodding in the keyhole until the lock was undone. The door swung open slowly, and I stilled myself in response. The ghostly sounds of midnight air swirling from outside were accompanied by heavy footsteps, making their way slowly into my home. Closer and closer they came, walking around the living room to find nothing but pillows, blankets, and clothing thrown around. Mess from candy wrappers, snack crumbs, and a half-eaten slice of cake left on a saucer. Then there was me, sitting silently among the chaos, a dazed look in my eyes, eyes that slowly rolled to meet Pixul’s striking gaze and amused smirk.

“Told you she’d still be here.” Her eyes flickered towards the second figure standing adjacent to her, of whom I assumed had to be her companion from her last visit.

“Still. She should have been monitored.” Taz stated plainly, confirming their presence.

Pixul rolled her eyes as she leaned down towards me. Grabbing my face in her hands, she inspected me over. I hardly reacted, allowing her to turn my head and regard my expression until they were satisfied. With a hum, she released me, glancing over at Taz with a raised brow.

“See? Still under the spell. She’s not even moving…” Pixul began snapping her fingers close to my ear. The sound almost makes me jump, but luckily I maintained my unresponsive state. Pixul shrugged and gave up with an even wider smile. Even Taz is satisfied, letting out a small humph before leaning forward to lift me roughly by my hoodie.

I let out a sharp gasp as I’m yanked away from my spot on the couch, stumbling as I try to regain my footing. Pixul snorted at my efforts, while Taz simply held me in place, their face as unchanging as mine.

Pixul’s hands find my chin again, turning my face to look at her. In her free hand, she carried a small vial of glittering dust, shimmering and glowing as she shook it.

Storm’s Tears.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you some more, okay?” Her grin was stretched across her face now. “Unless you want some now… that’ll put you in a good mood, yeah?”

I tensed. I wanted to run. To kick, to fight, to do anything other than be sedated by that stuff again. But that would blow my cover, and possibly push me further away from Iannis. A fight isn’t what we needed right now. I’d have to stay put… no matter what happened.

Pixul could sense my tension. I could tell from the way her brow quirked at the sudden tightening of my jaw under her grasp. And perhaps she interpreted it as an eagerness to snatch the vial away from her rather than fear, because rather than blowing it in my face, she simply laughed at me and shoved it back in her pocket.

“I knew that’d excite you! Now let’s get out of this… dump,” she stated, giving the room one last look of disgust before draping an arm loosely over my shoulder and pulling out her transporter. I quickly glance over at the transporter’s screen to read the blinking icon in the corner. There were two charges left. One to get us there.

And another to get Iannis and I back.

Pixul’s thumb pressed down on the button, and suddenly we’re surged forward by that powerful force, pulling us rapidly through space in time until our feet hit the ground half a second later. I looked around to take in the familiar neon lights that flooded the busy streets of Gan’em, then turned around to face the towering structure that spelled out the name of Pixul’s club in bright Talurian lettering.

I gulped, and without warning I was being pushed from behind by Taz, the both of us following Pixul inside. She waved off the security as we made our entrance, greeted yet again by the sight of raving clubbers under a shower of Tears, booming music and flashing lights, a crowded bar, levels upon levels of people dancing, drinking, and lounging around with expensive potions and shots as they watched the chaos unfold around them.

I’m pulled away from all of it. Instead, I’m dragged onto an elevator, standing quietly between my two captors as we’re rapidly transported to the top floor. I’m led down another hallway walls after, then another, until we reached a room with two heavy doors at the end. The guards waiting on each side push them open once they saw Pixul approaching. It was like another VIP room, much larger than the one from last time. It was a stark contrast to the brightly lit, crimson red corridors from before. The room was dim, safe for the neon lights that trimming the ceiling, floors, and furniture. Couches were stretched across every wall, with other comfortable seating circled across several tables found in various spaces in the room.

“Fuck… Vex isn’t here yet.” Pixul sighed, placing her hand on her hips as she glanced down at me. “Put her over there,” she nodded in another direction, “There’s a few things we can still go over before the meeting.”

Taz nodded once, then dragged me over to one of the couches in the corner of the room, tossing me down without an ounce of care before making their way over to Pixul. They mumbled quietly to each other. I tried hard to listen in, but to no avail. They were too far away, and I was too distracted by the gaudiness of this room to focus on anything else.

Instead, I closed my eyes and focused on the things around me. The very energy in this room. The lights, the bar, the electricity that ran through the walls. I extended my focus past the room, my connection going as far as the entire level, then the many other levels below us. Every mechanical whirl and hiss and hum, every electrical volt, every piece of living, working technology I could feel heavily within me. Most were familiar things: the neon lights, the booming speakers from downstairs, the technicolored dancefloor. But there was something… peculiar coming from the outside. Something attached to the side of the building, giving off pulsating signals that were alien to me. I investigated further, reaching along the sides of the tower and tracing every inch for anything giving off a similar feel.

I counted twelve of them.

{ Red… do you know what that is? Something outside… transmitting some kind of signal. }

[ Mm… the sensation is familiar to me. If I had to guess, my first assumption would be deadzoners. ]

I tilted my head slightly { I think Pixul mentioned something about… ‘deadzone tech’? What is it used for… }

[ The Nuvassi government has an… interesting way of tracking criminal activity. Upon release from detention, felons are forcefully implanted with a chip at the base of their skulls. This allows for investigators to monitor all manner of brain activity. Whatever the recipient sees, thinks, feels, even tastes… officials take record of it. Any sign of suspicious activity will trigger the attention of the Vaanen, Nuva’s police force. ]

{ So… I’m guessing the deadzoners block transmissions from the chips? }

[ Not just block. The transmission is altered completely. Rather than create a blindspot for the government, deadzoners send back false information that do not arouse suspicion. In this case, it makes it seem as though only engaging in docile activities that are within the confines of the law. ]

{ Which would essentially make Pixul’s club a safe zone for Nuva’s underground? }

[ Precisely. ]

I was sitting up now, the information being more than intriguing. I looked over to see if I’d caught the attention of anyone, but no one seemed to be concerned with me. Pixul and Taz continued to talk, clearly about something serious. The bartender merely tended to the sleek counter of the bar. No one so much as glanced in this direction.

Realizing there wasn’t any amount of attention on me, I pulled my legs close to my chest and rested my head against my knees. My eyes fluttered close once more, and I began searching for that signal again. Searching through the millions and millions of electrical impulses spread throughout the building until I found that same device, in all 12 spots. I focused harder, straining and pulling at that energy as I attempted to control it. The circuits came to me one by one, impulse by impulse. The transmission slowly began to form clearly in my mind. And once it did… I shut it off. One by one, I took out each deadzoner, forcing my authority over it until it was no more. Until that transmission ceased in its function.

Pixul’s safe haven wasn’t so safe anymore.

I lifted my head to find Pixul and Taz, their serious conversation now seemingly more flirtatious.

“I need to use the restroom,” I said out loud, perhaps the first words I’d spoken all day.

Pixul paused, and at first she looked annoyed. But suddenly her face contorted into something else.  Less annoyed, more… apprehensive.

She left Taz at the bar and made her way towards me. She stopped an inch short of me, looking down with a pensive stare. I was beginning to think that maybe she was seeing through my act now.

She crouched down, sighing as she reached into her pocket again to retrieve the vial of Storm’s Tears. I went tense again and she took note of it, probably knowing this time that it was indeed fear.

Her eyes flickered up to me as the corner of her lips curled into a small smirk, “You wanna go look for your friend?”

I went still, unable to utter a single rebuttal, the iciness of her words creeping over my skin in a slow-building sheet of frost. I desperately kept thinking of what to say, of what to do. I couldn’t keep my act up when was so clearly starting to see through it.

Pixul harshly grabbed my face again and snatched me forward, popping off the top of the vial with her thumb as she held it up to my face. “Maybe you need a little more, yeah?” Her smirk stretched into a grin. I strained against her grasp, but it was hardly of any use. Pixul was strong, carrying the same Talurian strength I’d seen in Xhen. No amount of struggle would help.

“Just… breath in,” she uttered softly.

This was it. I was going to have to fight my way out of here. To find Iannis as fast as I could and go. I could feel the spark in my chest, the building electricity crawling its way through my veins. I was ready. I was—

“Pixul!”

The sudden exclamation came from the worker bursting through the door, clearly out of breath with a look of urgency written all over their face. Pixul released me in response, head whirling around to meet the source of the sound. The annoyed look was back again, and I felt the power that quelled within me suddenly dissipate as a result of the distraction.

“What is it now?” She shouted back.

“Vex! He’s here…”

The annoyed expression was replaced with the same urgency as the other, as Pixul immediately lifted me from my seat and pulled me to the center of the room. Taz met us there, pulling a heavy metal chair closely behind them. Pixul shoved me in it, and Taz began restraining my wrists and hands completely in heavy metal cuffs attached to each side.

“To keep you from flying off, love.” Pixul simpered, looking pleased with herself as she turned her attention back to the open doors.

I couldn’t see who was coming down the hallway from where I was sitting, but I could hear the cacophony of footsteps, getting louder and louder and they approached the room, the chiming of dangling chains, the heavy grunts, the squeaking of leather garments and shoes. It wasn’t until they’d finally entered, Pixul greeting them warmly and with a wide smile, all while ordering one of the staff to light up the room more, that I got a better look at Vex and his cohorts.

Three of the men were tall and burly, metal lining their muscular arms and down their torso. They appeared Talurian, judging from the ornate, purple marking along their face. Most of their bodies were made up of cybernetics, which I could tell from the strong electrical fields they emitted.

Another was far more ostentatiously dressed than any of the others. His clothes were covered in spikes and stickers, so much that you couldn’t see the actual fabric of the clothing. His face was covered with bandages, ears pierced heavily and decorated with dangling gems and metals. A thick, heavy shackle was fitted around his neck, laced with a golden chain. His hair was electric blue, much like the ends of Pixul’s, shaven down at the sides and kept in two loose braids that rested on either side of him. From the hair to his clothes to his piercing white eyes, it’d be hard to miss him in the biggest crowd.

Then there was Vex, whose appearance was far more simplistic than any of the people accompanying him. He wore simple black pants with a matching robe, crisp and fitted, that reached his knees. His skin and hair were a pale, almost ash gray color, and his eyes were a piercing, vibrant blue. He had this striking, yet regal air to him. Carrying himself with as much confidence as I’d seen Kalar have in my dreams.

[ Hm, a Vanossi. Interesting. ]

{ A Vano..ssi…? }

[ They’re a race from the north. The Camerians thought them frail and cowardly. Which most of them are. But perhaps the Vanossi in Nuva are different. They’d have to be, considering the trial it is to escape their country. ]

{ …Escape?! }

[ It is a cursed land… the skies infested with Stormers. This Vex figure must be quite brave to make the trip. And survive, no less... ]

{ Uh huh… I guess we’ll see. }

Vex entered last, and following him was a figure completely unlike the rest. Nothing like anyone I’d encountered in my time on this planet. A tall, lumbering figure, almost as wide as the double-door entrance, and so tall they needed to duck to get inside. Their form was fully cloaked in a rugged, black clothes and thick, heavy gloves. Ghostly, incorporeal shadows weaved around their limbs, torso, and head. A threatening figure, surrounded by a cloud of darkness that moved with them as they followed Vex inside, standing ominously still while a single vermillion-colored eye peered back at me from the empty void of their hooded visage.

[ Oh… ] Red practically whispered the word, which made me even more nervous.

{ What kind of Ulterian is that…? }

[ That is not an Ulterian. And we should be quiet. ]

As if I wasn’t already scared…

Vex sat across from me in the center of one of the couches, the rest of his party gathered around him. All except for the gaudier henchman, of whom I’d silently decided to nickname Spike, who stood in a corner, leaning against the wall with crossed legs and arms.

Vex sat cross legged as well, perfectly still as they eyed me up and down. His gaze flickered back and forth between me and Pixul, but for the most part his attention was on me. I’d be lying if I said his examination, couple with the unsettling glances of his cohorts, were anything less than unnerving.

“So… is this the Camerian you spoke of?” Vex finally spoke up, eyes settled on Pixul. She looked almost as uncomfortable as I did. Perhaps due to the shadowy figure’s presence, or because of how less than impressed Vex seemed to be.

“Uh… yes. She’s the one that assembled the hildar. The one Xhen told me about?”

“Hm…” Vex groaned heavily, standing now as he approached me slowly but still keeping a healthy distance. His eyes roamed every inch of me from head to toe, which didn’t help at all in lowering the absolute creep-factor of this whole situation.

“It doesn’t look like a Camerian…”

…It?

“I think she’s half-Terran,” Pixul added, eyes blinking back and forth between me and the taller Vanossi. She looked visibly nervous now, and it wasn’t hard to read why.

“A mixed breed…” Vex’s face contorted into a look of disgust. He turned back to me now, waving me off with dismissal. As if rejecting some unwanted gift. A worthless… thing.

The more he talked, the angrier I felt myself getting.

“It is as useless to me in my endeavors as you Nuvassi folk. I thought you meant a purebred… perhaps if we can find the parent—”

“I built that bomb from scratch. I wasn’t so useless to you then. When I helped Xhen after they failed you.”

My sudden outburst caused the Vanossi leader to stop in the tracks, their head veering in my direction as their intense gaze pierced straight through me. He moved closer, his tall, lanky form leaning down so his eyes were at level with mine.

“If my intel is correct, Terran… Xhen failed in their mission because of you. Your… infernal curiosity led to the delay in my shipment. And now, what? You think yourself special? Important? No… you are here to correct a wrong. To pay the toll for your mistakes. And you will do so under my mandate.”

I met his eyes with just as much intensity, refusing to let myself seem weak and naïve again. Refusing to be taken advantage of.

“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told your friend…” I leaned forward, sitting up as much as my shackles would allow, “I don’t work for anybody. You want my shit? You earn it. And you’re an even bigger idiot if you think I, or my ima for that matter, would work for a feeble Vanossi runaway like you.”

[ Oh my… ]

I watched as the glint of anger sparked in his eyes, his gaze hardened and narrowing as he pulled away, looming down at me with absolute disdain. “What is your name, Camerian?”

Pixul, now racked with anxiety after seeing the situation escalate to such a point, finally spoke up, “She goes by Mi—”

“I am Cira nu Aedonnoe,” I interrupted. There was no need to elaborate further on my heritage, judging from the utter shock that immediately flooded his features. My family name was one that clearly spoke for itself. Even many years after Urrali, the Aedonnoe legacy was still one of reverence and infamy. A legacy I had no problem using to intimidate my enemies.

But the intimidation didn’t last as long as I’d hoped, as the shock soon vanished form Vex’s face, replaced with the anger that was there once before.

“Well, I’d say… Pixul, while I find your use of the intoxicant quite novel, it is clearly temporary in its effects.” Vex folded his arms behind him, walking back to join sit amongst his cohorts. “I have something far more effective. Something more… permanent.”

He gestured to the massive entity shrouded in a cloud of blackness behind him. The figure moves forward, heavy feet stomping loudly against the cold floor as it inched closer and closer. I felt Red rumble violently against my chest in response, as if to signal the gravity of the situation. The danger I was in.

I tried to move my tsanista, shape them into some form of protection, or some way of escaping this but no matter how much I strained and pushed my powers, nothing happened. There was something blocking my influence. Some immense power building in pressure as the figure approached. It rang out heavily in my mind, and the louder it got, the more and more I felt my powers dissipating. I was losing control. I was losing my mind.

In one motion, the figure grabbed me harshly by my hoodie and ripped me away from the chair, hard enough that the shackles came with me. I could feel the cold metal bruise and scar my wrists, purple blood dripping down my forearm as I clawed helplessly at the black, muscled arm that grappled me. Within seconds, I was slammed against the table between me and Vex’s men with enough force to knock the air out of my lungs, to make me cry out as my body became racked with pain. The shadowed figure held me down in place, glaring at me with that single, unhidden vermillion eye. I could see the many spirals that circled its pupil. They twisted and spun as the figure continued forcing their way into my mind. The pressure became more immense, and I winced and cried even more in response. My thoughts, feelings, free will… all were being controlled. Suppressed. Erased.  

“I am not easily intimidated, Terran… especially with friends like mine.” He grinned, taking delight in watching me be consumed by the mind-bending shadows. “I’ll always consider an experienced Makalden hunter to be a far bigger threat than an Aedonnoe with an attitude.”

I grew weaker the harder I fought. I could feel my clawing cease, my arms going limp, my mind going numb. More numb than the Storm’s Tears left me. I felt… cold. Like nothing. Like no one.

The coolness lasted longer… until a warmth entered me. Not the warmth on my cheeks from the tears that fell. No… this was different. A warmth I remember feeling, not too long ago. It’s focused in one area, wrapped around my forearm, glowing and getting hotter, brighter, etching itself onto me like a bandaid. Like a tattoo.

Then Red’s voice entered my head.

[ Hello there. ]

Like a heavy door being shut, the Makalden is forced out, their dominion pushed away from my mind. I felt the pressure leave me, replaced with a different one. One less overbearing, less damaging, less scary. It was a barrier against that darkness, a shield against any form of intrusion.

It was Red saving my life all over again.

[ ⋖◈⋗] Now Processing… Second Band Received Firewall I Function Activated