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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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Ginger Snap, Chapter 6

A/N Well, here it is. The last chapter of Ginger Snap. As an unplanned fic inspired by a vanity license plate, I’m happy with how it turned out. There will be a short epilogue posted in the next week or so. In the meantime, thank you so much for coming on this unexpected ride with me! This chapter’s themed title is Fire in the Belly.

Previous chapters are best enjoyed on my AO3 page, because I have a bad habit of going back and editing them after they’ve been posted.

The next five months were some of the most difficult of my life.

After our talk, Frank and I agreed that it would be best that we parted ways. The Southside flat was close to the university, plus I’d never truly felt at home there, so it made sense for him to keep it. Fortunately, we’d never combined our savings and I still had money tucked away from my time as a medical resident in Boston.

Geillis wanted me to move into her sprawling Murrayfield home, at least temporarily, but I knew that I needed a place of my own. To stand on my own two feet, as it were. Which was how I found myself moving my few belongings into a modest Morningside walk-up as the rest of Edinburgh celebrated Hogmanay with fireworks and drunken revelry.

I scheduled the written component of my medical licensing exam for February. This was likely foolhardy, but I’d already wasted enough time. As a result, almost every waking hour was dedicated to studying. The flat remained an empty box whose naked beige walls bore witness to my rudimentary existence.

Geillis called regularly, reminding me to eat and to occasionally step outside for a breath of fresh air. Returning up the high street from one of our weekly coffee dates, a bright flash in a shop window caught my eye.

I stopped and stared as the afternoon sun lit the vase like a shard of stained glass. It was a profound shade of blue: the colour of a field of indigo, of the night sky in a Byzantine icon, of Jamie’s eyes when he laughed. It sat on my windowsill, filled with the season’s first daffodils, as I pored over practice exams.

***

“Geillis, I passed! I fucking passed!” An elderly woman seated across from me on the bus muttered under her breath about vulgar Sassenachs, but I was too elated to care.

“Of course ye did, ye brilliant disaster. Now I can brag tae the neighbours I have my own personal physician.”

“Not so fast, Duncan. I still need to pass the clinical exam, and that’s no small thing.” My gut twisted just thinking about it, but unlike the written exam, there was little I could do to prepare. Either I knew how to perform as a doctor or I did not. The long months since I’d last treated a patient loomed like a large shadow over that question.

“Och, yer bum’s oot the window Claire,” my friend dismissed blithely. “Ye’re gonna do great. When do ye head down tae yer homeland, then?”

“May first.” The practical examination took place in Manchester and needed to be scheduled three months in advance.

“Sounds like ye’ve got some time on yer hands. Whate’er are ye going tae do with yerself?” Geillis asked in a singsong voice.

Fortunately for me, spring was Edinburgh’s most pleasant season. Its many gardens and laneways erupted in carpets of buds and blooms. The air smelled fresh and green, like biting into a tart apple. I took long walks and fell in love with the city I now called home. There were secondhand bookstores to explore and a weekly craft market where I gradually amassed an assortment of items that made my flat feel like a home. With each passing day, my existence felt more and more like a life; one I defined for myself.

I also started to explore my options for employment, hoping for a job offer from one of the city’s hospitals that was conditional upon my successful completion of the licensing process. It was to that end that I found myself walking down the corridor of The Royal Edinburgh hospital after what I hoped had been a rather successful interview with the deputy director of surgery.

“Claire?”

I recognized her voice immediately. Before turning around I closed my eyes and sent out a fervent appeal to the universe.

“Jenny, hi. How are you?”

She looked just the same, her straight black hair such a contrast to her brother. Next to her stood a man, but not the man I had conjured the moment I heard her voice. I was unclear whether that meant my prayer had been answered or not. Seeing my gaze stray, Jenny jumped to introductions.

“This is my husband, Ian. We’re here fer treatment on his leg.”

“Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Jes a fitting fer a new prosthetic. Jenny keeps beatin’ me o’er the head with the old one, ye see.” I laughed, instantly liking his easy-going manner, so in contrast with Jenny’s intensity.

“Ye must be the Claire I hear sae much about,” he went on, and I wondered what had been said about me in the Fraser household.

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

Ian smiled warmly. “Only good things, I promise ye.”

“What brings ye tae the hospital, Claire?” Jenny interjected.

I explained how I was in the process of qualifying to practice medicine in Scotland, provided I could pass my exams. Jenny and Ian were both delighted, congratulating me as though I’d already accomplished my goal. As we spoke about Wee Jamie’s latest exploits and the ongoing growth of Ginger Snap, I couldn’t help notice that Jenny was staring at my hands. At my left hand in particular. Finally, I couldn’t resist temptation any longer.

“And, how is Jamie doing?” I tried to sound casual, but I was certain my faltering voice betrayed me.

“Very well,” Jenny replied. “Busy, as ye can imagine, but he thrives on chaos.”

I nodded, trying to be satisfied with the news that he was well. It was the most I could hope for, really. Jenny eyed me shrewdly before continuing.

“He’s a good man, my brother. Any lass would be verra lucky tae have him. I’d like tae see him settled, but he refuses tae be rushed. Says the right woman is worth the wait.” She paused before adding, “I reckon ye ken wha’ he means.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “I know exactly what he means.”

***

I took the overnight train from Edinburgh to Manchester. It meant I was likely to arrive at the testing centre deprived of sleep, but I rationalized that most of my residency could be characterized as one long evaluation under similar conditions, and I hadn’t killed anyone yet. Still, as the velvety darkness slipped by outside my window, studded by the lights of passing farms, my doubts got the better of me.

I texted Geillis, looking for moral support. For once she didn’t reply immediately. There was one other name on my laughably short list of contacts. I deliberated for all of a minute, but the late hour and creeping panic made me impulsive.

Hello.

Best to start with something innocuous, rather than the slightly more revealing “I miss you. I think about you every day.” A reply bubble appeared immediately after I hit send. At least I hadn’t woken him up. A small tempest stirred in my gut.

Arsonist. Hello. How are you?

I tried to picture him. Was he at home? Working late? Or, in a scenario that played out far too often in my mind, on a date?

I’m alright. Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m going to puke and cry. Not necessarily in that order.

Och, lass. Do you need me to come over?

Damn it, this man. I had done nothing to deserve his unswerving loyalty but mislead him and then disappear for months on end. And yet here he was, willing to come to my aid on the flimsy pretext of a late night text. Guilt and tenderness warred for possession of my heart.

That may prove a bit difficult, Jamie. I’m on a train to England.

There was a long pause, and then a two letter reply.

Oh.

I realized at once that he’d leapt to the wrong conclusion: that I had left Edinburgh for good. I rushed to correct the error.

I’m taking the second stage of my examination to practice as a NHS doctor tomorrow. It’s all hands-on situations, and the licensing facility is in Manchester.

Arsonist, that’s wonderful news! I’m so proud of you.

I blushed, then leaned my heated cheek against the chilled pane of glass. It had been a rash impulse, but this conversation was exactly what I needed. I wasn’t alone in this. Geillis and Jamie were in my corner.

What has your stomach in a twist, then?

What if I’ve forgotten what to do?! It’s been almost a year since I’ve so much as used a stethoscope, Jamie. The exam is eighteen real-life situations and you’re given eight minutes to respond to each one. Not a second longer. I’m just... what if I fail?

And there it was. The kernel of fear that lived at the heart of everything I did. What if I failed? What if my best wasn’t good enough?

Claire, listen to me. You’re a doctor, just as I am a chef. It wouldn’t matter if I had not set foot in a kitchen in ten years, I would still remember how to cook, and I know that it’s the same for you. I believe it with everything in me.

On some level, I knew that he was right. But it still comforted me tremendously to hear it from someone I trusted.

Alright. That helps. I should let you get to bed. Thank you for talking me off my ledge, Jamie.

Anytime, Arsonist.

As I got ready sign off, another text bubble appeared.

Oh, and Claire? Don’t burn down their wee laboratory, okay? ;-)

I laughed out loud, muting my phone and reclining my seat. Outside, the stars shone brightly, tiny fires in the firmament to guide me on my way.

***

It was a lovely late spring day, and the retractable doors to the fire station were open to the warm breeze. I could hear Angus’ voice as he led a cooking demonstration for a group of young women; a bridal shower by the look of their ridiculous costumes.

“Mind the coriander, lass. Tis a verra powerful aphrodisiac, ken? I willna be held responsible if ye canna resist my considerable charms after ye eat yon soup.”

There was an outburst of giggles as I rounded the corner and entered the reception area. Jenny was on the phone. She halted mid-sentence when she saw me walk in. I rubbed my hands down the front of my jeans, trying to stay calm.

“He’s in the storeroom, in the back,” Jenny prompted before I could even offer a greeting. I smiled gratefully, relieved I didn’t have to make small talk. I had only so much courage stored in reserve, and I didn’t want to use it all up before reaching my destination.

The storeroom was long and narrow, lit by a single naked bulb and girded with shelves. Jamie stood with his broad back to the door, his curls absorbing the light like amber. He had a clipboard in one hand, performing some kind of inventory.

“Jes how many lentils dae ye reckon we need, Janet? There’s nine cans of them here already, and ye have us ordering ten more.”

I’d almost forgotten how much I loved his voice, the undulating grit and silk of it. I had to remaster the art of speech before I could reply.

“It’s not Jenny. It’s me. Claire.”

He froze, and if it weren’t for the sudden rapid flow of his breath I would have assumed he hadn’t heard me. My nerves got the better of me and I blurted out, “I like lentils. You should listen to your sister.”

“Claire.” More sigh than word. He slowly turned. It was when our eyes met that I knew nothing had changed for him. It was still there, after all these months. That look that told me I was the map to his journey, the focus to his vision, the reason to his why.

Hopefully he could read that same certainty on my face.

“I passed my exams,” I began. “I’m a doctor again.”

“Ye never stopped bein’ a doctor. This jus’ makes it official.”

“I’m still a disaster in the kitchen,” I continued. “Last week I ruined two saucepans.”

“Tha’s only a tragedy if ye dinna have someone willin’ tae cook fer ye,” he replied with a strange squinting motion I understood was meant to be a wink.

“I’m still learning who I am. How to be true to the person on the inside,” I confessed. This is what had kept me away for so long, worried that I would escape from Frank’s orbit just to be caught up in another. Jamie never once expected my submission, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t offer it out of habit.

“I’ll let ye in on a secret. Sae is everyone else,” he replied.

Without realizing it, we’d both been moving until we were crowded together amongst the dried herbs and canned goods. My hand rested against the solid metronome of his heart. Just one more confession to go.

“I burn for you in a way I’ve never burned for anything before.”

There. It was said. A thousand wings of rapture beat against the cage of my ribs, clamoring to break free. Jamie carefully pushed a loose curl behind my ear before cupping my jaw.

“Wee arsonist. Come, set my life on fire.”

#my writing #outlander #ginger snap

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akindofmagictoo · 4 years

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incorrect quotes tag game

this comes from @zmlorenz — to go with your Open Seas content, I will provide you some Hurricane content

as ever, quotes are from this wonderful website and I had way too much fun with these oops.

Theo: This is a mistake Aella, enthusiastically: A mistake we're going to laugh about one day! Theo: But not today Aella, still enthusiastic: Oh, no. Today's going to be a mess

Aella being enthusiastic when she shouldn’t be is pretty canon.

Theo: Please, I'm begging you go to a doctor. Aella: I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it.

Aella no! but also very canon

Theo: I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of our lives Aella: I wake up at 4:30 AM Theo: Theo: I want to see you at some point every day for the rest of our lives

Aella is a morning person. Theo is NOT.

Theo: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated. Aella: Killed without hesitation. Theo: No.

Tempest, standing with her back turned: I’ve been expecting you, Aella. Aella: How did you do that without turning around? Tempest: ... To be perfectly honest, the first couple of people I did that to were not you.

Theo: Hey Aella can I get a sip of your water? Aella: It's not water. Theo: Vodka, I like your style! Aella: It's vinegar. Theo: Wh-Wha- Aella: It's vinegar, COWARD.

Theo, tending to Aella's wounds: How would you rate your pain? Aella: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.

Theo: *holding a bottle* Is this whiskey or perfume? Aella: *chugs entire bottle* Aella: It’s perfume.

Theo: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail Aella: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

again. canon.

Theo: Aella, what do IDK, LY, and TTYL mean? Aella: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later Theo: Ok, I love you too, I’ll just ask Tempest.

Aella: We need to get through this locked door. Theo, give me your credit card. Theo: Here. Aella, pocketing it: Thanks. Tempest, kick down the door.

Theo: I trust Aella. Tempest: You think she knows what she’s doing? Theo: I wouldn't go that far.

ouch... but this is pretty accurate. listen: Theo loves his girlfriend, but he also knows she can be an idiot.

Marisa: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon? Aella: I'm a knife. Theo, from across the room: She’s the little spoon.

Aella Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth? Theo: You’re a hazard to society Tempest or possibly Marisa: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

Theo: I love you guys, you're the best thing that's happened to me. Aella: We're the best thing that's ever happened to you? Theo: Yes! Tempest: I'm starting to feel a little sorry for you.

slightly too canon

Theo: Why are you on the floor? Aella: I'm depressed. Aella: Also I was stabbed, can you get Aria, please?

Aella, trying to ask Theo out: Would you like to stay for dinner? Tempest: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

I said I was done, and then I wasn’t, but I’m done now I promised.

I am going to tag @crowsandlace @teriwrites @ellatholmes and anyone else who wants to play!

#tag game #incorrect quotes tag #wip hurricane #hurricane aella #hurricane aella onyeisi #hurricane theo #hurricane theodore grey #hurricane tempest #hurricane tempest onyeisi

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mrslittletall · 4 years

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Title: A Storm is coming (Chapter 29) Fandom: Dark Souls Characters: Chosen Undead/Dragon Slayer Ornstein, Hawkeye Gough, Black Dragon Kalameet Word Count: 8.420 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603610/chapters/62838637 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/622911860468023296/title-a-storm-is-coming-chapter-28-fandom-dark

Summary: Searching for help with getting the black dragon Kalameet to the ground, Tempest visits Gough, the last Knight of Gwyn that he still has to meet...

(Author's note: It was such a brutal heatwave when I finished this chapter and I hope the quality is up to par. The DLC is still incredibly difficult to write and I am glad when I can move to another part of the story, but for now, the duo has a dragon to beat!)

Once Tempest had passed through the door, asking himself why it was so small, he spotted a ladder and went right to it, starting to climb it. A few rungs in, he could hear the heavy footsteps of Ornstein and looked down to see how the knight leaned against the wall, his posture slumped and his breathing sounding laboured. Tempest started to climb again once the gaze of the golden helmet hit him and soon he was on top of the tower, mouth agape at the sight of the last knight of Gwyn, Gough, the Hawkeye.

Even though Tempest knew that he was a giant, he couldn't help but feel awfully small next to him. When Ornstein was double Tempest's size, then Gough was surely fourth his size. The Hawkeye was currently sitting on the ground, in his old armour, even the helmet still on his head, busy whittling on a piece of wood. There was a mountain of already finished pieces in front of him and chippings of wood were scattered everywhere. They even landed on Tempest who absentmindedly raised his hand to brush them off his helmet.

Tempest took a deep breath, stepped nearer to Gough and cleared his throat: “Um... hello.”

Gough stopped whittling for a second before he resumed and spoke in a low, but very gentle voice:

“Hm? A visitor, have we? Thou must be the one who freed Artorias. An old friend he was, and thanks to thee… He left this world with honour intact. …And here I am, retired and blind. Of little help to thee, I am afraid.”

“Yes, indeed, it was me...”, Tempest said, a feeling of guilt nagging at his chest. Technically, it had been Ornstein who had fought Artorias and Tempest had just delivered the killing blow. A deed that had made Ornstein mad, still having the hope that Artorias could have been saved.

“You... you aren't of little help.”, Tempest said, wondering how he should put his next words. “Actually... I have come to ask for your help... because...”

“Good morrow…Is the Black Dragon posing thee duress?”

“Wha... but I haven't even said anything. How did you know?!”, Tempest was taken aback. Was he that obvious?

“Yes, I thought as much. He is called Kalameet. A ferocious dragon indeed, even mighty Anor Londo dared not provoke his ire. I see little good coming from this, but… …Thy intent is to persevere… to the bitter end, hmm?”

“That and... I owe it... to a friend.”, Tempest said, not looking at Gough directly, though the giant probably wouldn't have noticed anyway, he had claimed himself as blind. Tempest also remembered this detail about him in the stories about the four Knights of Gwyn. He wondered briefly if Gough would really be able to help, but scolded himself for his line of thinking, Ornstein was trusting Gough and that had to mean something.

“By the way...”, Tempest said, “This probably won't make much sense, but I shall deliver an apology to you.”

There wasn't any confusion in Gough's stance. Instead, a low chuckle emitted from his chest.

“Little Undead, tell him to come up here.”

“Huh?!”, for the second time in a few minutes Tempest was taken aback. “But how did you know?”

“I might be blind, but I am not deaf.”, Gough said, his voice content. “I could hear thine battle in all its glory and there certainly was a voice mixed in from a dear friend as well as the telltale sound of his spear. Oh, how often have these two duelled each other on the grounds of Anor Londo. I knew since the battle started.”

Tempest went back to the ladder and kneeled down. “Ornstein, he knows!”, he shouted. “Come up here!”

“Damn... I should have known it.”, Ornstein muttered and soon the form of the dragon slayer arrived on the tower, stepping next to Tempest.

“Gough.. I am... I am sorry...”, Ornstein said, his gaze on the ground, his fingers intertwined, his whole posture feeling small, as if he wanted to curl in a ball. In fact, Tempest had never seen Ornstein look so miserable.

“What are you even apologizing for, Ornstein?”, Gough asked. Tempest noticed that he switched from the ancient pronouns, he guessed that Gough just wanted to be polite with him. “There is nothing to apologize to me for. In fact, you shouldn't be here.”

“Y... yes, I know, I should be at Anor Londo...”, Ornstein said, but Gough shook his head.

“No, you already are at Anor Londo. You need to get back to your own time.”

“Wait, you know?!”, Tempest shouted, clasping a hand over his mouth after he realized what he just had said and also to suppress a yelp when he felt a kick at his shin.

“Yes, little Undead, I know.”, Gough said. “The Ornstein standing in front of me, that isn't the Ornstein I know. The Ornstein standing in front of me is older and it appears he lived through intense hardships. I can hardly believe that he is the same knight that I remember from the dragon war.”

Ornstein's shoulders slumped more and more as Gough spoke. He had been seen through so easily. There wasn't any way to deceive Gough. He could read him too well. In fact, the only way that Ciaran didn't knew he was there, was because she apparently hadn't watched the battle, only seen the results.

“But... how did you know Ornstein was down there?”, Tempest asked, pointing out a detail that Gough hadn't tackled yet.

“Ah, indeed.”, Gough said. “It was your voice that was with him, little Undead and the both of you crossed the coliseum later together. Besides, I could hear him breathe.”

“You could have just said this in the first place.”, Tempest grumbled. “Besides, I have a name and it's Tempest.”

“Like the storm, I see.”, Gough said, shaving a bit more wood off his current piece. “So you and Ornstein plan to hunt down Kalameet and have come to ask for my help. Quite a task you have set for yourself.”

“Yes, Gough.”, Ornstein said. “Please ground him for us. I... am not in the right condition to handle him in the air.”

“You should know, little Tempest.”, Gough said. “Ornstein once had tried to hunt Kalameet on his own, but failed. Even among the dragons, Kalameet is incredibly dangerous.”

“Wait... but haven't you said earlier that Anor Londo hadn't dared to provoke him?”, Tempest asked.

Ornstein clutched his spear and answered at Gough's place: “Ah... it was... because I couldn't kill him. Anor Londo's best dragon slayer failed at killing Kalameet and was bedridden for a week, Lord Gwyn forbid us to ever challenge him again.”

“Wait... I think you have told me about that...”, Tempest said. “He was responsible for the scar on your left shoulder and back!”

“Ornstein, should I ask why your companion here knows of your scars?”, Gough asked. “When I remember correctly, you hated showing them. Has this changed after many years in the future?”

“Um...”, Ornstein said and Tempest had the feeling he was about to turn red under his helmet. Of course, he would have to admit that Tempest saw him naked, that they book a bath together and that Tempest had washed Ornstein's hair. In fact, Tempest started to ask himself why Gough hadn't asked yet what Ornstein's and Tempest's deal with each other was. Still, Tempest decided to spare Ornstein the embarrassment.

“Oh, he has got hurt in the fight with Artorias and when I patched him up, I could see it.”, he explained. “So will you help us ground the dragon?”

“...My mind has been made up once you asked the first time.”, Gough said. “Because what is bravery without a dash of recklessness? However, do you think Ornstein should hunt a dragon in that state?”

Tempest's gaze wandered to Ornstein and he took a sharp breath as he noticed just how laboured his breathing was and how much trouble he seemed to stand up upright.

“Ornstein...”, Tempest said. “Why haven't you said anything?!”

“I... I didn't want to worry you...”, Ornstein said. “Besides... we can't sit around here idly, doing nothing...”

“If you continue to strain yourself like this, you will collapse.”, Tempest said. “I thought you were exhausted back on the township, but I decided to trust your word. Everybody knows their body best, right? But apparently, I was wrong.”

“Ornstein never knew when to quit and take a break.”, Gough offhandedly said.

“That's it.”, Tempest glared at Ornstein and tapped his foot. “You will take a break, right now. Get out of that armour, sit down, drink something and wait until I have cooked up a meal! You haven't eaten anything in hours!”

“...Fine... I guess I have no choice.”, Ornstein said as he sank down at the wall of the tower, carefully removing his helmet.

“That's the spirit.”, Tempest smiled and put his attention to Gough. “Is there a a place where I could cook something up?”

Gough pointed to a corner of the tower, where there indeed was a small fireplace with a pot over it. Tempest hummed as he approached it and searched in his belongings. He had packed some ingredients when they last had been in Anor Londo.

As Tempest was busy with cooking, Ornstein carefully peeled himself out of his armour, sighing once the weight wasn't pressing down on him anymore. Gough had been right, he wasn't in a state to hunt down a dragon. That the little Storm noticed it also was proof enough for Ornstein. Though he wouldn't sit here for hours. He would eat what Tempest cooked him and then they would be off. They couldn't dawdle here too long, his past self would arrive the next day.

“So, Ornstein.”, Gough spoke, making Ornstein raise his head, “What is the deal between you and that determined Undead?”

“Gwyndolin's orders.”, Ornstein answered. “It's... hard to explain.”

“Of course, you know about events that I do not.” A few chippings fell down on Ornstein who brushed them off, wincing when pain emerged in his arm.

“Correct.”, Ornstein said. “Let's say... we have a task for the little Storm and he was asking for help, so Gwyndolin ordered me to help him.”

After he was done speaking, Gough chuckled, the low, joyous chuckle, that Ornstein always had loved to hear. He always wanted his fellow knights to be happy, though at the moment, it annoyed him.

“What's so funny?”, Ornstein complained.

“The fact that you seem to have some attachment.”, Gough said. “Was that a nickname that I heard? I believe the Undead himself had referred to himself as Tempest.”

“Yes, is something the matter?”, Tempest asked, brooding over the cooking pot, blue eyes fixating on Gough at the mention of his name.

“...It's nothing. Go back to cooking.”, Ornstein said. Tempest however took only one gaze at Ornstein and gasped.

“Ornstein, I told you to drink something! I can't see your canteen anywhere near you! Do you want to collapse from being parched? You lost quite a bit blood, you know!”

“Alright, alright...”, Ornstein sighed, fetching his canteen from his belongings, taking a few sips. He actually hadn't noticed how dry his throat had been and he soon eagerly took larger sips from his canteen.

“That's better.”, Tempest said, adding some more vegetables into the soup. At least they looked like vegetables. Ornstein knew that he could fully trust Tempest when it came to cooking. It was fighting he wasn't good at, though he became more and more competent at it lately.

“Gough... there is something I have to ask of you.”, Ornstein said.

“I know.”, Gough said. “I won't say anything. Neither to Ciaran nor to your old self. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, Gough...”, Ornstein said, suddenly feeling his eyes droop. Why was he so tired all of a sudden?

“It would be wise to take a little nap.”, Gough said. “It appears your companion is still busy with the soup.”

“...I guess...”, Ornstein said and not long after he had closed his eyes, he felt sleep overcoming him.

Around ten minutes after Ornstein had fallen asleep, Tempest puts the lid on the pot. “Alright, the soup now just has to simmer a while.”

Tempest walked over to Ornstein and a smile washed over his face once he saw him fast asleep.

“Finally he rests. He was about to collapse when he would have continued at that pace.”, Tempest said.

“He always has been like that.”, Tempest winced at the sudden voice of Gough, not having expected the giant to say anything. In fact, Gough looked like he was a part of the tower. If not for him moving, Tempest would have thought he would be a statue.

“You know him well, right?”, Tempest asked, sitting himself cross-legged on the ground, having to crane his neck to look Gough in the face, or more, helmet. After a few seconds Tempest remembered that Gough was blind and it wouldn't bother him at all if Tempest wouldn't look into his face, so he went to stare straight at the wall of the tower, sometimes glancing to Ornstein.

“Yes, we knew each other since the dragon war. He came and asked me to be a part of the four Knights of Gwyn. I accepted his offer and led many silver knights archers into battle as well as fought alongside Ornstein many times.”

“...He must have been wonderful in his prime.”, Tempest said.

“Yes, indeed.”, Gough said, chipping down some more wood from the current mask he was carving, which fell down on Tempest, who brushed it off his leather armour. “The golden dragon slayer of Anor Londo. He was elegant and deadly. Ornstein was able to take out a dragon on his own, which is an enormous feat. It was usual that a single dragon would wipe out three scores of our silver knights.”

“A single dragon wiped out so many soldiers and he fought them solo?!”, Tempest could hardly believe what Gough just had said. “..I can't believe that I managed to beat him...”

Tempest noticed his mistake and looked up to see if there was any change in Gough's demeanour, but he just continued whittling on his mask before saying: “Don't worry, there is nobody I will tell that I've ever met you.” Gough then stopped whittling and his head cocked until it was gazing in the direction in which Ornstein was laying, maybe one or two centimetres off. “Ornstein... isn't feeling well. It isn't because of the injury you talked about, there is a deep sadness inside of him. It has been there since our loyal companion, Artorias, who you so kindly put to rest, has fallen. Ornstein... always blamed himself for everything that happened. That is why he wanted you to apologize for him. Whatever happens to me in the future, Ornstein feels responsible for it.”

Tempest looked at Ornstein while Gough was talking. He knew that Ornstein was putting up an act, that the real Ornstein was a lot softer than the dragon slayer once he put on his armour. Tempest wondered if Ornstein blamed himself for the death of Smough, the executioner, his former partner. Tempest had been the one to strike him down, so Tempest always thought that Ornstein would resent him for that, but... maybe it was Ornstein hating himself. Had Tempest ever heard Ornstein say a good thing about himself? Maybe Ornstein just wanted to search out the Sunfirstborn to say sorry?

Tempest had the hunch that once they were back in their own time, Ornstein might apologize to him, even though Tempest had brought them into this mess at the first place.

“Artorias...”, Tempest said, wanting to change the subject. “Did he knew that he would get corrupted? He... said a few weird things before he died.”

“Artorias was very well aware of the dangers of the abyss.”, Gough replied. “It was his duty to fight the creatures of the dark. For a Knight of Gwyn, every mission could be the last. Artorias would have gone even if Ornstein had forbade it. I assume that Artorias tried to find an unoccupied place before his corruption could eat him completely. That he ran into you and Ornstein might have been pure luck, so that he could die in battle. For every knight, it is a honour to die in battle.”

“...I died in battle and the only honour I got was getting thrown into the asylum.”, Tempest grumbled, clearly remembering his own death. “Though I am not a knight.”

“That is apparent.”, Gough said, making Tempest's head jerk around. “You can fight, but it isn't in your nature. When I guess correctly, it was Ornstein who trained you.”

“That is correct.”, Tempest said. “And he didn't even kill me that often during training.”

“Tempest, I want to apologize that you Undead are getting treated so unkindly by Lordran.”, Gough said. “Us giants are in a similar situation. We are feared because we can go berserk. For Undead it is the fear of your hollowing, for us giants it is the fear of our nature. I never had the urge to go berserk, but still people feared me and blinded me.”

“That's awful...!”, Tempest said, shuddering. “Why did they attack you even though you never did anything wrong?”

“Fear like I said.”, Gough replied. “Wasn't it the same for you? You weren't attacking anyone, but once they saw your dark sign, you were carried away. People will always shun what they fear. You and me, we aren't that different in that regard.”

“I guess...”, Tempest said, thinking about the time he had been close to hollowing. Would he have become one of that roving hollows who would attack everything in sight or would he have become one of the hollows that just …had given up and would smash their heads against the wall, like the ones in the Sunlight Altar?

It was Ornstein who had helped him to fend off his hollowing, as well as the humanity he had taken, but Tempest knew, one or two more deaths and he would have been gone for good.

“Oh, Ornstein told me that you sell these masks?”, Tempest pointed at the pile in front of Gough, wanting to change the subject.

“Yes, that is correct. Feel free to have a look at my wares.”, Gough said and put a few items and a price list in front of Tempest. Apparently even a giant had use for souls.

Gough's wares were rather standard, homeward bones, prism stones, titanite shards... From greater interest were the gigantic arrows he sold, Tempest could only assume that they were used for the equally big great bow he could see behind the giant, and two masks. Tempest tested them both and one said “Hello” and the other “Thank you.”

“Hmm.. I think I take the Thank you carving.”, he said and searched for souls in his dark sign, when he noticed that next to the items he also spotted some dung pie. Why in the world had Gough excrements with him? As Tempest watched over the tower and realized that there nowhere was a privy in sight, and even if, it wouldn't be big enough for the giant, he got his assumptions and wrinkled his nose. Disgusting.

Tempest handed five souls to Gough (he probably sold the masks for so little souls because he had a mountain of them) and put the mask into his inventory, then strolled over to check on his soup. Almost done.

“It's time to wake up Ornstein.”, Tempest said. “The soup will be done in a few minutes.”

“I am sure he looks forward to be waken up by you.”, Gough said.

“Maybe? I am not sure if Ornstein looks forward to seeing my face first when he wakes up. At least I am not hollowed out at the moment. He doesn't like my hollowed out form.”

“Even as someone who cannot see anymore, I can understand that.”, Gough hummed. “It's not a very nice sight.”

“It's not like I die on purpose.”, Tempest said and nudged Ornstein. “Hey, Ornstein, time to rise and shine, the soup is ready.”

“Hnngh...”, Ornstein said and opened his eyes halfway. “Oh, little Storm, that smells wonderful...”, he said and both of his arms embraced Tempest and pulled him into a hug, making Tempest's face blush a deep crimson.

“Um, Ornstein...”, Tempest said and once Ornstein opened his eyes completely, he practically jumped up and Tempest fell on his rear.

“Ah, do... don't take this the wrong way!”, Ornstein said. “I was still... dreaming. Yes. Dreaming!”

“I heard you say little Storm...”, Tempest murmured under his breath and went back to the pot, all followed by a low chuckle of Gough. Tempest put a serving of soup into a brought along soup bowl and carried the steaming hot meal to Ornstein, handing it him along with a spoon.

“Careful, it is still hot.”, he said as Ornstein took it. Tempest then addressed Gough. “Would you like a plate too? I made enough for several servings, though it probably isn't enough for a being of your size.”

“I gladly take a serving.”, Gough said. “It's true that as a giant I require more sustenance, but I very well would like to cherish the taste. As Ornstein said, it smells wonderful.”

“I am giving my all for every meal.”, Tempest grinned and went to get a second serving. Luckily he had packed two bowls. Tempest didn't even know why, it wasn't like he could share the meal with Ornstein. Maybe it had been wishful thinking.

Once Gough had been given a filled soup bowl too, Tempest sat down and watched Ornstein eating. He was holding the soup bowl carefully with his left hand and slowly dunked the spoon into the soup with his right arm, movement looking stiff and with the way his face scrunched up, Tempest knew it wasn't comfortable for Ornstein.

“Do you need help?”, Tempest asked.

“No, I am fine.”, Ornstein answered as fast as an arrow would fly off a taut bow. Tempest was a tiny bit disappointed, he would have liked to see Ornstein's reaction if he would have fed him, but he also had the assumption that Izalith would freeze over before Ornstein would allow for Tempest to feed him.

“If you say so.”, Tempest just said and continued to watch Ornstein, who ate slowly and methodically, as if he mostly just tried to get the bowl empty. Tempest sighed a little bit, Ornstein's thoughts were apparently still elsewhere. At least he got him to have taken a break.

“That surely tastes wonderful.”, Gough said from above, putting the bowl on the floor. “You are a good cook, Tempest. I envy Ornstein to be able to eat a meal this good every day.”

“It's not like he cooks for me everyday and I also never asked him to do it...”, Ornstein murmured.

“Oh, but I would cook for you everyday, if you ask or not.”, Tempest smiled at Ornstein, who choked at his current spoonful of soup. Tempest came over quickly and gave Ornstein a good slap on the back, helping him to clear his lungs from any soup that had gotten into.

“Everything alright? Have I said something funny?”, Tempest said and his big blue eyes stared directly in Ornstein's equally big, green ones. “Are you having a fever...?”, Tempest asked as he noticed that Ornstein's face was tinted a hue of red.

“No and don't come so close!”, Ornstein yelled and gave Tempest a kick, which made him fall on his rear, his big blue eyes now conveying betrayal.

“I am remembering this Ornstein and that means you won't get desert the next time.”, Tempest chuckled and turned his head when he heard the low chuckle of Gough mixed into his own.

“It's good to see that you made such a good friend.”, he said.

“We aren't friends!”, Ornstein said, again, far too quickly and he backpedalled immediately by saying: “Well... maybe a little...” He turned his head to the side, was looking in the air and had another red flush on his cheeks. Ornstein still couldn't admit that he liked Tempest. Tempest just sat there and grinned to himself, that Gough had noticed what Ornstein was denying felt good.

Tempest felt a large hand on himself and nearly fell down when Gough was slapping him on the shoulder. “Please stay Ornstein's friend.”, Gough said, low so that Ornstein couldn't hear it, but loud enough so that Tempest could hear every word. He simply nodded, forgetting that the giant couldn't see him, but he had the feeling that Gough got his message nonetheless.

Once Ornstein was done with eating the soup, Tempest collected the bowls and put them back into his luggage. He decided to leave the rest of the soup for Gough, it seemed like the giant rarely got anything good to eat, sometimes someone from Oolacile brought him provisions but since the tragedy happened, he mostly had caught birds out of the air and ate them instead. Tempest almost was suggesting to Gough that he could come back and cook more for him before he remembered that him and Ornstein shouldn't be here at the first place. They very likely wouldn't be able to come back.

“We have now sit around idly enough.”, Ornstein said and got up, but Tempest was at his side with a lunge and said: “Wait, Ornstein, let's take a look at your arm.”

“How often do I have to tell you I am fine?”, Ornstein grumbled.

“Expect... you aren't fine. You needed the break and I want to take a look at this bandages.”, Tempest didn't wait for permission but simply rolled Ornstein's sleeve up and to his surprise, the dragon slayer allowed it.

“Ugh, it has bled through...”, Tempest groaned as he looked at the bandage he had applied. He had done his best to apply a pressure bandage, that the wound wouldn't bleed too much until they could get it properly fixed, but after running around in the Oolacile township it had loosened. “Please hold still, Ornstein, I will change the bandages.”, Tempest said. He searched for some new bandages in Ornstein's bag, which he found quicker by now and then removed the bled through and far too moist used bandages, gasping when he saw the wound, immediately starting to bleed again and bruised black and blue around the gash.

“You make me afraid to look, little Storm...”, Ornstein said, leaning against the wall, face far too pale.

“Don't look, just do me a favour and don't look.”, Tempest murmured, swallowing away bile at the state of the wound as he applied a new pressure bandage and carefully rolled down Ornstein's sleeve again. The dragon slayer bore it with closed eyes and not even a wince and Tempest stuffed the bloody bandage in his own luggage before Ornstein could take a look at it.

“I know that I can't stop you to hunt dragons, even if you are injured.”, Gough said. “If you are ready, I shall keep my promise and shoot Kalameet out of the sky.”

“Wait.”, Tempest said. “I want to be sure that Ornstein truly is rested. So.. he has drank something, has eaten something, has slept... Is there anything else he needs to do that I don't have to do anymore... Oh!”, Tempest clapped his hands. “Ornstein, do you need to take a leak maybe?”

“Huh?”, Ornstein said, clearly taken aback and another red hue appeared on his cheeks.

“Oh, it's just.. we are about to fight a dragon and you can't just excuse yourself in the middle of a fight, that's all.”, Tempest said, nodding to himself, proud that he remembered all the needs that a still living being had.

“That's not it, little Storm.”, Ornstein half whispered. “Just don't be so, uh..., blunt about it...”

Gough chuckled again and said: “Ornstein is just very shy.”

“I'll be right back.”, Ornstein hastily said and left the tower, returning after a few minutes, putting on his armour and not saying anything anymore.

“Gough, please.”, Ornstein said. “Show the little Storm why they call you the Hawkeye.”

Gough stopped whittling and laid both the mask and his knife down, standing up, wood chippings falling down from him as he was feeling for his great bow. As soon as he grabbed it, he said: “Now watch and see how Gough hunts dragons.”

Tempest knew it had been for him, Ornstein probably had seen it a hundred times and Tempest planned to watch closely. He was able to see the Hawkeye in action and his whole body tensed up as Gough bend the bow, getting an enormous arrow into place and the moment Kalameet soared near the tower, he let loose and the arrow hit the black dragon directly into the wing.

Tempest just stood there with his mouth open as Gough sat back down again and said: “Hah hah! Yes, a truer shot was never loosed! That bat will be grounded for a good spell! The rest is in your hands. I await good tidings. Ahh, dragon slaying. Knighthood's highest calling…”

“Gough, thank you very much.”, Ornstein said, giving the giant a polite bow. “We will be off now and finally put Kalameet into his place.”

“I know how much you waited for a chance to fight him again.”, Gough hummed. “Now go. And the next time I see you, you better will be from my own time.”

Ornstein looked back one last time at Gough and then turned around to walk to the ladder, giving Tempest a nudge because he still was staring in the sky with his mouth agape. After Ornstein and Tempest descended the ladder, Tempest closed the door, but didn't lock it.

“Maybe I want to visit him again.”, he said. “To tell him that the dragon is dead.”

“Do what you must.”, Ornstein simply said. “Let's just get back to the basin where Kalameet must have fallen down.”

A short walk and three dead dogs later (Tempest had been forced to slay them again because of Ornstein's distaste of them), the both of them stood in front of the basin. As Tempest was already walking towards the ladder that led down, Ornstein stopped him.

“Wait, little Storm, there is something about Kalameet I have to tell you.”, he said.

“Something other than that he is a big, scary dragon which breathes fire and probably could eat me in one bite?”, Tempest said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Kalameet has a very special attack.”, Ornstein said, ignoring Tempest's remarks, “You see, Kalameet has one red eye on his forehead. He is able to use some kind of psychic powers with it. Whenever Kalameet is on his hind legs and his claws are pointing upwards, he will use that attack. Don't ever let yourself get grabbed by this attack. Not only do you lose control over your whole body, every wound you receive afterwards will hurt twice as much as usual.”

“Aaalright, that is pretty bothersome...”, Tempest said. “How do you know about this attack?”

“Because I got grabbed by it.”, Ornstein said. “It was the reason I lost the battle.”

“Sorry...”, Tempest said. He hadn't planned to reopen old wounds for Ornstein, especially after so many old wounds had been reopened already. “I will take care to not let myself get grabbed. What is our strategy?”

“Sadly I am severely hindered.”, Ornstein said. “I can't two hand my spear which from great benefit when fighting a dragon. Hurling lighting will also be troublesome, because it will send pain through my body, but I will do my best when it comes to it. I will distract Kalameet as well as possible and you search for the opportunity to get a deadly strike in.”

“You want ME to be the main force against a fucking dragon?!”, Tempest screeched.

“Language, little Storm.”, Ornstein scolded Tempest, not used to that Tempest would use such strong language, at least not in front of him. “I will give my best to pierce the other wings of Kalameet too, so that he will have trouble to fly at all. For you, try to get a good hit at his head or at his belly. You are small enough to fit under him, but don't let yourself be stomped to death. Dragon skin is hard, even though Kalameet would be considered an ancient dragon and not an everlasting dragon. It could take a while until you cut through his skin.”

“...I will give my best...”, Tempest said, but he felt very small and weak. He had relied on Ornstein so much during this journey, how should he be able to let Ornstein rely on him? Wait, how had he managed this journey before Ornstein had been there? He usually had died until he somehow had made it. That was a tactic he couldn't rely on anymore. If he was absent for even a few minutes, it could mean death for Ornstein.

Tempest felt a hand on his shoulder and then Ornstein murmured: “You can do it, little Storm. You are stronger than you think. Just.. keep calm and remember what I have taught you. I will give you instructions during the battle also.”

Tempest took a deep breath and nodded. Fine, it was fine. He could do this. Ornstein was at his side. They had beaten so many dangers together already. A fire breathing dragon was just the next step on their journey to the kiln.

“Let's go then.”, Tempest said and slid down the ladder.

Ornstein came sliding down shortly after Tempest had landed, taking the lead, walking into the middle of the basin where Tempest could spot several corpses. He shuddered. Had the dragon killed them all...? Thinking of the dragon, where was it? Hadn't it crashed around here?

Tempest's eyes widened when a rather pissed looking dragon came around the corner, an arrow stuck in his left wing. Once Kalameet saw Ornstein, he stopped and Tempest had the weirdest sensation of a voice in his mind.

“Dragon Slayer!”, the voice, probably belonging to Kalameet, spoke, no, hissed. “I knew we would see each other again... not having any confidences in your skill anymore though... for you had to ask the Hawkeye to keep me grounded...”

Kalameet flared his wings during these words, not being able to spread the left one all the way out. Tempest still find it to look very intimidating and hid behind Ornstein's huge frame.

“I am afraid I am not up to my usual skills anymore.”, Ornstein said. “That's why I won't be your demise. Kalameet, today you will face your demise by him!”

As soon as he had said this words, Ornstein stepped to the side and exposed a very tiny, very scared looked Tempest, who had his mouth open in shock. He grabbed his sword with both hands and tried to look at intimidating as possible, but failed because of how much his knees were shaking.

“A puny tiny little Undead?!”, Kalameet roared. “Dragon Slayer, don't make me laugh!”

A low, rumbling sound was heard and Tempest, frantically looking around to find out from where it was coming, had to realize that Kalameet really was laughing. A moment of carelessness that Ornstein used to his advantage immediately, jumping up in the air and landing on the back of Kalameet.

“You!”, Kalameet hissed and flapped his wings, getting both him and Ornstein airborne. Ornstein nodded to Tempest and he knew what he had to do. While Ornstein easily was holding his balance up on this dragon, Tempest got his bow out. Only seconds later he heard a screech and saw that Ornstein had driven his spear through Kalameet's right wing too, which made the dragon soar through the air rather unstable and he was about to collide with the ground.

Before Ornstein could collide with Kalameet, he jumped off his back and Tempest aimed his bow directly at Kalameet's head. As soon as the ground shook from the dragon's impact, Tempest let the arrow fly and while it didn't hid the red eye that Tempest had aimed at, it still ripped a wound at the dragon's temple, hot blood dripping on the ground.

Kalameet scurried back to his feet and took a deep breath.

“He is going to breath fire, careful!”, Ornstein shouted and Tempest didn't waste any time to run as the greenish flame came out in kind of a cylindric shape. As he rolled out of the way, he still could feel the heat. He didn't want to know how it felt like to be touched by that fire. It felt worse like that of the Hellkite Drake and Tempest had died quite a few times in its flames.

“Now what?”, Tempest asked once the flames died down.

“Follow me.”, Ornstein said and ran towards Kalameet. For Tempest, it felt crazy to take a dragon head on, but then he remembered that he was fighting alongside the dragon slayer. He had to trust that Ornstein knew what he was doing.

Kalameet didn't spit fire again. It wouldn't wonder Tempest if that would take a lot of energy and effort and he had to wait a bit for his throat to cool down before he could breath fire again. Instead, once Ornstein came closer, Kalameet used his head to try and smash Ornstein with it. Ornstein dodged to the side and once Tempest had caught up to him, he managed to get under Kalameet's belly while the dragon was busy raising a claw to sweep at Ornstein.

Tempest looked up and raised his sword to stab Kalameet into the belly, only to realize that he still was too small to reach him! Was Ornstein just expecting for him to jump up and slice it open? Still, he had to use the distraction that Ornstein procured him to good use, so Tempest did the next best thing and inflicted a wound on the inner thigh of Kalameet's hind leg. The dragon screeched in pain and surprise and raised his hind leg only to stomp down right where Tempest stood. The little Undead rolled out of the way, looking up to see Kalameet's tail and gasped when it came smashing down him.

Ah, so that was how it felt like being hit by the tail of an ancient dragon. Tempest must have flown several metres, because he could see how Kalameet's form got smaller. Tempest had the feeling that he could hear Ornstein calling “Little Storm”, but it was fine, he had Estus. He would just heal all the breaks and ruptured organs that he surely had suffered, judging from the pain when he collided with the ground. There was no reason for Ornstein to run to him, he should keep the dragon busy, so why was Tempest seeing golden armour hurrying in his direction...

“Little Storm, are you alright?!”, Tempest heard and the next thing he knew was that Estus ran down his throat and he felt how his wounds closed.

“Ornstein, the dragon...”, Tempest murmured, still a bit dizzy. Ornstein raised his head and gasped. In the short time in which Ornstein had run to Tempest and apparently given him Estus, Kalameet had caught up to them and he was on his hind legs, claws pointing upwards. The attack Ornstein had warned Tempest about.

Tempest felt himself lifted up and his ears were complaining once a piercing sound emitted from Kalameet, Ornstein managed to lunge away just in time, but his movements were sluggish and Tempest knew why. Ornstein was holding Tempest with his injured arm and that must have hurt. A lot.

“Ornstein, let me go.”, Tempest said, practically forcing Ornstein to let him fall on the ground, were Tempest scrambled back on his feet, both of them lunging in different directions when Kalameet's fire was shooting at them again.

“Damn, even grounded he is still a tough foe.”, Ornstein said, readying himself once Kalameet was running towards them. “We need to inflict a deadly wound soon... or we'll get into trouble.”

“I know, but you haven't taken into account that I am too small to reach his belly.”, Tempest said, gasping when he saw Kalameet tensing all muscles and felt himself flying through the air when Ornstein shoved him, the dragon slayer himself having jumped on Kalameet's back again, spear scraping at his neck, making the dragon hiss and splutter while he tried to get Ornstein off his back.

“If only I had a spear like the one of Ornstein...”, Tempest murmured. “With a spear like this I could easily reach Kalameet's belly...”

However, even if Tempest would borrow Ornstein's spear, he would have trouble lifting it and he would need enough time to actually inflict a wound with it. Thinking about it, it would have been the best, if Kalameet would be on his hind legs again. For now, Tempest should support Ornstein and ran to Kalameet, slicing two new wounds in his front leg. Ornstein came jumping down, wincing, while Kalameet was busy with wincing in pain himself.

“Ornstein... I kind of have an idea...”, Tempest said. “But, uh, it is a bit reckless...”

“Whatever it is, you better spill it soon.”, Ornstein said, panting, “Kalameet isn't about to wait until we are done talking.”

“No, but he is going to breath fire again. I tell you once we are out of danger!”, Tempest said, jumping out of the way. Ornstein followed him and Tempest said as quickly as he could: “Get him on his hind legs... and toss me your spear.”

“Are you crazy, little Storm?”, Ornstein asked as he twirled around, spear ready to knock one of Kalameet's teeth out.

“Trust me, just trust me on this.”, Tempest said.

“Alright then...”, Ornstein said. It was a good thing that he kept a backup weapon with him at all times, but... maybe he should try and support Tempest with his miracles, even if it would hurt. He just hoped that for once the recklessness of the little Storm would be worth it.

Ornstein looked at Tempest one last time and saw the determination in those blue eyes. They both nodded to each other.

“Hey!”, Ornstein shouted. “Kalameet! You are right! That fight is between you and me and not between you and that puny Undead!”

Tempest couldn't help but feel a tiny bit hurt, even though he knew that this probably was just Ornstein's tactic to get Kalameet's attention. And it worked, the dragon stopped trying to snap at Tempest and put his gaze on Ornstein.

“Oh, are you finally going to fight seriously, dragon slayer?”

“You remember our last fight? Where you wanted to burn me to ashes? Well, I am still here! You haven't burned me. How about you take a second shot?” Ornstein, who was standing right in front of Kalameet raised both arms and hurled his spear in Tempest's direction. The little Undead hurried to it immediately, struggling a bit with picking it up, but he managed with both hands.

“Do you have a death wish?”, Kalameet pretty much howled and raised on his hind legs, hot flames starting to appear around his mouth. It was the exact opportunity that Tempest needed. He ran towards Kalameet, dropped his sword and used all the strength he had to lift Ornstein's spear high enough and drove it as deep in Kalameet's stomach as possible.

The dragon screeched in pain as blood seeped out of the wound, staining Tempest's arms that still were holding the spear, some green flames shot out of his mouth, but then he managed to pour his fire breath on the ground. It was hot and uncomfortable, but Tempest kept standing where he was, holding the spear and pushing it deeper and deeper into Kalameet's belly.

Tempest slowly turned his head in an attempt to look at Ornstein and saw a big dragon claw coming down on him. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, already awaiting death, when he heard a sizzling sound... a far too familiar sizzling sound and when he opened his eyes again, he could see how a lighting bolt had hit Kalameet right into the red eye on his forehead.

The black dragon screeched again and started to trash around, Tempest was still holding on the spear, being convinced that if he would let go, that he would surely be smashed on the ground or any nearby wall.

After several seconds that felt like minutes, Kalameet's body finally went limp and he collapsed forward... Tempest's eyes going wide when he realized that the big body would bury himself under it. Tempest let go of the spear and clasped both hands over his head, eyes shut close, slowly opened them again when death never embraced himself.

Tempest saw that Ornstein's spear kept Kalameet's belly into the air, though it looked like it would collapse any minute now. Tempest hurried to crawl out of the danger zone and yelped when the spear gave in and his leg got buried and smashed by the sudden weight.

Tempest needed a few minutes to free his leg and then took a sip of Estus to heal the damage. When he looked up the next time, he saw Ornstein standing over him. “Well done, little Storm...” Ornstein's face looked pale and his voice was strained.

“Ornstein, are you alright?”, Tempest asked.

“...That last attack left me unable to move for a while...”, Ornstein said. “I better sit down for a while...”

Ornstein sat down, leaned against the corpse and took a deep breath. Tempest, who already was on the ground, just looked at him, removed his helmet and then scooted a little closer, mostly to look closer at Kalameet.

“Incredible.”, Tempest said.

“What?”, Ornstein asked.

“I have slain a dragon!”, Tempest grinned, euphoria rising in his chest.

“Do you want to keep his head as a trophy?”

“Uh gross! No! I didn't even knew where to hang it.”

“Well, there is still some space in my trophy room, but I can't claim this dragon, because it was you who killed it.”

“Only with the help of you and Gough.”, Tempest said, his gaze darkening. “On my own I would have been screwed. I probably would have died so many times that I would have gone hollow...”

“Don't be so hard on yourself.”, Ornstein said and Tempest felt a hand on his head, ruffling his hair but got withdrawn pretty much immediately. He stared at Ornstein, asking himself if that really just happened.

“...Ornstein, your spear...”, Tempest said, a hand over his face.

“What about it?”

“It is still under the dragon!”

“Well... that will take a while to get back...”, Ornstein sighed. “Maybe we should convince Gough to come down his tower and move him for us...”

“Or we use that ring of Havel's...”, Tempest mused. “Isn't it there to make heavy things lighter?”

“That was meant for armour, not dragons.”, Ornstein chuckled.

“It's worth a try.”, Tempest said and jumped up, searching for the ring in his inventory, sliding it over his finger and eyes going wide when he saw the golden tip of a spear under Kalameet's body. “Hey, I don't think we have to move him!”, Tempest said and grabbed the spear, pulling it with all his might, until it was out and Tempest flew on his rear.

“Here, Ornstein.”, Tempest gave the spear to the dragon slayer, who accepted it and then stared at the cross a little longer. “What's that?”, he said and removed a round little object from it.

Tempest came closer and saw a ring. It actually looked a bit like the eye of Kalameet. “Belonged that to him?”, he asked. “What is it for?”

“I don't know.”, Ornstein said. “How about you try it out?”

Tempest stared at the ring and then slid it over his finger. As soon as it was sitting tight, he had the feeling that something was very very wrong, that something evil had him in his clutches. As if... yes, as if a calamity had befallen him.

Tempest removed the ring immediately and sighed in relief when he felt the force over himself lifted.

“...That dirty black dragon...”, Ornstein hissed.

“What is it?”, Tempest asked.

“Even in death he was a sore loser. In that ring is the power of the attack that makes every injury hurt twice as much! I advise you get rid of the ring as quick as possible!”

Tempest instead looked at the ring and the pocketed it.

“Why are you keeping it?”, Ornstein asked. “That thing is dangerous.”

“Exactly.”, Tempest said. “I think it is safer with me than with anyone else. I have to wear it for the curse in the ring to take effect. Besides, I want a souvenir that reminds me of this fight and the ring is cleaner and easier to carry than the head of a dragon.”

“Well then, little Storm.”, Ornstein sighed and got up. “Our duty here is almost gone. Let's move on and face the beast of the Abyss.”

“You sure you are up to this?”, Tempest asked.

“I have to.”, Ornstein replied.

“Alright, but as soon as we are back at our own time, I'll make sure that you rest.”

(Author's note: I am very sorry about the joke with Gough and the dung pies, my mind is just immature and I found it too great of a coincidence to not be a coincidence... Kalameet in NG+ is brutal. I am actually glad that I don't have to beat him, just fighting him is enough. Like always, I make the fights a lot more realistic instead of simply getting an HP bar down ^^ I hope you enjoyed. Please leave me a comment with your thoughts. Thank you very much!) Chapter 30

#dark souls #fanfiction #oc tempest #chosen undead #dragon slayer ornstein #hawkeye gough #black dragon kalameet #orndead #littlewritesstuff

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mycatshuman · 5 years

Text

The Emo Who Stole Christmas

Chapter 2: A Secret Relationship and Truths Revealed

Word Count: 3,634

Warnings: crying, misunderstandings but they are resolved, talk of past bullying, discrimination against hair color for being "unnatural", and an asshole mayor, cursing, let me know if I missed any.

Pairings: Pre-established Prinxiety and Logicality and Demus

Masterlist | Previous | Next | More Chapters

Thanks again to the wonderful @icequeenoriginal for being such a marvelous co-creator. This fic exists because of her so send her some love. 💜

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Emile frowned as they pulled up to their house with their dad. The house was dark and looked intimidating compared to the houses around it as they were lit up with lights of all colors and sizes. "No lights on. Your Pa must be out shopping."

A head popped up on the roof. "Oh! Good! I'm so glad you're home!" Emile and Patton looked up to see Logan up in the roof, wrapped in a long coat as he held a strand of lights in his arms. "I can feel it, Patton!" He exclaimed. His eyes alight with determination. Emile frowned as they watched their father. "When the town asks who has the most spectacular of lights in Whoville, they're going to say, 'Mr. Logan Lou Who!!' This is the Year!!"

Patton chuckled fondly at his husband. He glanced to the side and noticed something a bit concerning. He reached forward and lifted the object carefully. "Is this the Chandelier from our dining room!?!??!" Emile's frown deepened. They found their unease about the holidays taking root deeper.

"Its all for the cause, Honey," Logan called out. He had to be superior, he just had to be. "Oh! Emile, Honey bee! Could you be my little helper and unscrew the lightbulb from the fridge?" Emile blinked rapidly, trying to determine if their father was in fact serious. "I somehow missed that one."

Emile peered closer at their dad and noticed his tie tucked firmly in place and decided their father was in fact serious. Emile forced a smile onto their face as they walked inside carrying a small stack of presents.

"Every. Single. Year." Logan muttered as they grabbed light strands and began moving them trying to set them up. "Mr. Roman May Whovier has the best lights. But not this year! This is the year I am going to defeat that prim, perfect, prissy little prince-" Logan was interrupted by the man himself.

"Logan! Hello!" Roman called out dramatically.

Logan looked over to see Roman in a deep holiday red Santa dress with white trim, Santa hat and matching red boots, tights, and gloves. Logan frowned. "Roman."

Roman chuckled. "I've never seen so many fabulous holiday lights, Nerd!" Roman shouted from his spot on his front porch. He was just a little disappointed that he was stopped momentarily from his journey but couldn't help but tease his next-door neighbor.

"I'd probably blow every single fuse if I tried to keep up with you, Roman May!"

Roman smirked and picked up a beautiful sparkling antique. It looked almost like a large heart-shaped Christmas tree ornament, though it was missing the top. Each part sparkled individually when moved. At the very end, there were large gold tassels that Roman ran his fingers through. "Isn't this darling? It's handcrafted and near 100 years old!"

"Oh! Wow!" Logan muttered to himself, sarcastically. "I'm really impressed!"

He set it back down in its gift box carefully and turned to something covered in a sheet. "However, this is new." He turned the machine on and aimed it towards his house. Then he shot a stream of lit holiday lights up at his house and they quickly caught onto the house and strung up in a perfect line, giving his house a magazine perfect look. He walked around and blew out the smoke. He turned back to find Logan barely concealing his dropping jaw. He smirked. "Well, good night Logan!" He shot Patton an unseen sympathetic smile and snuck off with a box.

---

Logan rushed to answer his phone as Patton came behind him with a candle. "Hello?" He asked.

An unfamiliar voice answered, "Is your sub-zero chillibrator running?"

"Hold on, let me check." Logan paused and listened and heard the slight hum of their refrigerator. "Yes, my sub-zero chillerator is indeed running."

Virgil snickered, "Well then you better go catch it!" He yelled into the phone and hung up the payphone. (On the other end Patton snorted as Logan stood frozen, the dial tone blaring out from the phone speakers.) Virgil turned to Remy with a smile, "I think I broke ‘em." He chuckled. "Alright, let's go home." Virgil and Remy climbed into a trash chute. Virgil hit the side of the chute and the two of them were sucked through the chute as the lid slammed shut. As they tumbled through the tube leading up to the top of the mountain, Virgil groaned. "There has got to be a better way to do this." Soon they fell out into a pile of garbage. Virgil huffed. Then they heard rumbling from the chute. "Oh, wonderful! More trash!" Three bags fell into his lap and he rolled his eyes. He grabbed a bag as he stood up. "What is that stench?" He asked nobody. "It's absolutely fantastic!" He exclaimed sarcastically. He grabbed another bag and began dragging them behind him as he began walking home. "Come on Remy, let's go home. We can come back for the rest later." He huffed. "It's amazing just how much the Whos throw away. They really could do a lot better with recycling."

He sighed. "But it all falls to me, as always." Remy frowned in his own cat way. His father was so depressed. And he wished he could do more to help him.

------

Emile sighed as they looked around their room at all the holiday decorations and frowned. "Where are you Christmas?" Emile sang to themselves softly. "Why can't I find you? Why have you gone away?" Emile moved over to their window and looked out at Mountain Crumpet. "My world is changing. I'm rearranging. Does that mean Christmas changes too?" Emile sighed and moved to their desk where a letter for Santa sat unfinished. "Where are you Christmas? Do you remember? The child you used to know? You were so carefree! Now, nothing's easy. Did Christmas change? Or just me?" Emile hung their head and moved to get into bed, A fitful night ahead of them.

----

Virgil sighed as he opened the door to his home. He set the two bags of garbage he grabbed onto a catapult and pulled the lever. The bags slammed into a blown-up poster of Mayor Anton Who. Virgil smirked. He really did not like the Mayor. He moved away and hung up his cloak on a hook. He used his homemade elevator to get to the ground floor of his cave. "The first floor, factory rejects." Virgil stepped off the platform and moved behind a screen to get changed. He pulled off the suit and pulled on sweats, a t-shirt, and his favorite hoodie. As he walked past his phone, he checked for voicemails. "Any calls?"

"You have no new messages," the voice from his phone said.

Virgil frowned. "Odd. Better check my outgoing." He flipped a switch and his voice with a hint of Tempest Tongue came out through the speaker. "If you utter so much as one syllable, I'll hunt you down and gut you like a fish!!!" Virgil blinked. "If you'd like to fax me, press the star key." Virgil shrugged. He ran down the stairs and jumped into his couch and picked up a bag of chips. "I don't know why I ever leave this place, Remy. I have all the company I need right here."

Remy rolled their eyes, a strange feat for a cat but the amount of bullshit that came from Virgil's mouth, half the time Remy was so in need of an eye roll that the laws of anatomy had to be defied. Virgil opened the chip bag and stuffed them in his mouth. "Am I just eating because I'm bored?"

"Oh, you’re bored? I can change that~" a husky voice whispered in Virgil's ear, causing him to jump a mile high. Roman grinned and came around the couch and hopped into Virgil's lap.

"Roman!" Virgil coughed out. "Don't do that!!"

Roman chuckled and snuggled into Virgil's neck. "But it's so fun. And you look so flustered!"

At this, Virgil's blush only went darker. "Roman!" He exclaimed, his voice an octave higher.

Roman grinned and pressed a kiss to Virgil's neck before pulling away. "I got you something today."

"Ro…"

Roman huffed. "Yes, I know what you're going to say. But I really, really, want you to have this!" Roman quickly pulled out a box and set it on his lap. Virgil sighed but pulled his arms away from their place around Roman's waist. Roman pouted slightly at the loss of contact before holding his breath as Virgil pulled out the antique he had shown Logan earlier. Virgil's eyes widened as he realized how fragile the gift his love had given him.

"Roman...this is…"

Roman bit his lip. "Do you like it?"

Virgil gulped, wanting to look at Roman to answer but too scared to look away from the gift for fear of dropping it. "I love it...but-"

Roman shook his head. "I didn't, as you would say, "waste any money" on it. Although, how can anything be a waste of money if it's for you~" Roman said with a wink towards Virgil.

Virgil raised an eyebrow and smirked. "So you stole it then?"

Roman made an offended Princey noise. "No!" He exclaimed and then calmed down. He looked down at his hands and fidgeted. "I-um…This was in my family for decades. And it was passed down to the firstborn and they are supposed to give it to the person they want to marry."

Virgil blinked as he tried to process what exactly was happening. "Wha….are you…." Virgil blinked rapidly as he felt his eyes getting watery. "Are you? Is this a marriage proposal???"

Roman bit his lip. "Maybe," he whispered.

"I-" Virgil paused. "Can you take this?" He asked as he handed the gift back to Roman. Roman blinked rapidly. Is he saying no??!

Virgil picked up Roman and set him on the couch gently before running off to grab something. He came back to find Roman in the same position only with tears running down his face. "Love??" Virgil asked and he kneeled in front of Roman. He reached forward and wiped away Roman's tears. "Why are you crying, Ro?"

"Are ...are you saying 'no'?"

Virgil's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "No! I'm not-" Virgil groaned and facepalmed. He brought out a small box. "I'm- not."

Roman looked down at the box and let out a gasp. He carefully set the antique down as quickly as he could. He picked up the box with trembling hands and opened it to find an extravagant ring with a blood-red ruby and gold plated band. It looked like something out of a fairytale. Tears streamed down Roman's face as he put the ring on his ring finger and launched himself at Virgil, tackling his lover to the ground. "Yes!! Of course, I'm going to marry you!!! Yes!! Yes!!! Yes!!!" Roman exclaimed as he planted kisses all over Virgil's face.

Virgil giggled as he held onto Roman's hips to stop him from falling over. Once Roman stopped, he laid down on top of Virgil as the other's arms came up to wrap around his boyfriend-his fiance's torso. Roman sighed. "I love you, Virgil."

Virgil smiled dreamily as he snuggled closer to Roman (if that was even possible) and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "I love you too, Roman."

Eventually, the two moved to the bed and cuddled underneath the covers as they fell asleep to the soft hum of music.

-------

Emile sat at their desk as they frowned. They had many questions in their curious heart. Why did the Grinch hate Christmas so much? Where did it all start? They had their Pa's blabbacorder and they had used it to gather as much information of the Grinch as they could.

Emile pressed play and was taken back to earlier that day when they stopped to talk to the elderly couple who had raised the Grinch.

*Flashback*

"In your own words, please tell me all that you know about the Grinch."

The couple in front Emile shared a glance, not used to being asked about their son. "Well," they started. "First, you should know we didn't name him Grinch. We named him Virgil," Remus said as he knitted a green sweater.

"Virgil?" Emile asked.

Damien nodded. "Yes. Virgil. Now, he came the way all the Who children come." Remus perked up about to say something only for Damien to cut him off. "On calm nights, Baby Whos drift down from the sky in their own pumersellas."

"So that's how it works!" Emile exclaimed.

Damien nodded and elbowed Remus to stop him from shaking his head. Remus frowned but nodded and picked up where his husband left off. "It was Christmas Eve, and a very strange wind blew that night! It was tasty!"

Damien rolled his eyes fondly at his husband. "We were having our annual holiday get-together, while Virgil landed right at our doorstep. Nobody realized he was out there until morning came. But when we saw him, we knew right away he was special."

"How did you know?"

"Well, his hair was the most vibrant purple we had ever seen!"

"Purple??" Emile asked. It was not a natural hair color for Whos.

Remy's nodded! "Yeah! Very purple! And that morning, we tried to give him cookies! We came over with some cookies on a Santa plate. Then he said Santa!! His first words were Santa! And then we let him hold the plate and he took a bite out of it!!"

Damien rolled his eyes. "It near gave me a heart attack but he didn't get hurt and he actually tried the cookie and he liked that better. After that Remus learned how to cook and made things into weird shapes and Virgil would eat it so I was very grateful for it."

"We raised him the best we could."

*End Flashback*

Emile paused the recording and switched to a different one, trying to listen in a different order than they had first heard them. They pressed play and they were taken back to when they first talked to their neighbor, Roman May.

*Flashback*

"The Grinch?" Roman asked Emile. Emile nodded. Roman bit his lip. "He...was a very quiet child. I hardly remember him though. I was way too busy with my studies to socialize." A memory of Roman staring at Virgil in class dreamily flashed through Roman's mind. He bit his lip. "The class we were in was going to have an annual holiday gift exchange…"

*End Flashback*

Emile paused the recording and switched to another one. They remembered their interview with Mayor Anton Who.

*Flashback*

"The Grinch...he liked Roman. Now, Roman was my boyfriend." Emile kept their face as passive as they could, but they found it hard to believe that Roman really was the Mayor's boyfriend. "You know, I really dislike discussing this Grinch business so close to Christmas…But maybe if you hear the truth, then you can understand why…" Anton stopped and glared down at his assistant who was cleaning his shoes. "Put your back into it!" Anton turned back to Emile found it really rude of the mayor to treat his assistant so cruelly. "I took the Grinch under my wing."

*End Flashback*

Emile paused the recording and unpaused another one. Damien's voice came out through the recording.

*Flashback*

"Virgil told us that he was picked on by most of the students In his class. He told us Anton Who was picking on him the most for his crush."

Remus frowned. "He told him, 'You don't have a chance with him. You're 8 years old and you have purple hair!' It really upset Virgil."

*End Flashback*

Emile frowned. They paused the recording and skipped to a moment they remembered in the Mayor's interview. They pressed play and the Mayor's voice came through again. "He had this…unnatural hair. It wasn't right." Emile paused the recording again. They turned back to the recording of their interview with Roman. Emile was transported back to what happened during this part of their recording.

*Flashback*

"Did I have a crush on the Grinch??? Of course not!!!"

Emile raised an eyebrow. "I didn't ask you that."

Roman panicked slightly. "Right…..umm"

*End Flashback*

Emile stopped the recording. I think I'm on to something! They quickly pressed play on the recording with Virgil's parents. Remus's voice came through the speaker. "Virgil came home that day before his classes gift exchange and he was even more in the spirit of gift-giving than before."

"It's not that he doesn't like Christmas," Damien's voice broke in. "It's just, he doesn't like how commercialized it has become. And that whole evening, he worked on creating a gift for his crush. But the bullying from Anton made him buy cheap brown hair dye. He came home that day, just before we all moved up into the mountain-"

"You moved up into the mountain?" That was their voice.

"Yes," came Remus's voice. "Just until he was old enough to live on his own. But he told us that his teacher had asked if everyone had given their gift, Virgil called out that he hadn't and stepped out where he had hidden behind the coats."

"He had a bag over his head to hide his hair and the teacher told him to take it off. He did and hid behind an open book. She told him to set that down too. And then she told him to take off the hood on his hoodie. After that, everyone laughed at him. Even the teacher."

Emile stopped the recording and switched to Roman's. "He was so upset. He ended up throwing the gift he made for me, it smashed into the wall. Then he picked up the tree and threw that as well!" Emile paused the recording as he remembered something the mayor and his assistant had said about this moment. "The anger." That was the mayor.

"The fury!" said the assistant.

Emile frowned and pushed play on Roman's recording again. "The muscles!" A pause. "It was such a horrible day. They were so cruel to him." A barely concealed sob. "I could hardly bear it … that was the last time anyone ever saw him. The very last time."

Emile stopped the recording. "I need to talk to Roman again," they said as they stood up and prepared to go talk to Roman again.

-----

"Emile?" Roman asked as he opened the door. "What are you doing here? Did you forget to ask a question?"

Emile shook their head as they stepped inside and Roman closed the door. "No, I was curious."

"About?" Roman asked as they sat down across from each other.

"What..what do you really think about Virgil?"

Roman froze. He subconsciously played with the ring on his finger sitting beneath his gloves that he had hurriedly pulled on before answering the door. "I-" Roman bit his lip, debating with himself before he pulled off his gloves.

Emile frowned, unsure how this was relevant but paused as they noticed the ring. "Did-did the Mayor give that to you?"

Roman sighed and shook his head no. "Virgil did. I...lied earlier. Virgil is…" Roman sighed as he got this far way dreamy look in his eyes. "Virgil is the only man I could ever love. Unlike most of the Whos in this town, Virgil sees me. Actually sees me. I'm not just some pretty face or voice. Virgil loves me for me."

Emile's eyes widened. "So...are you saying the Grinch isn't bad??"

Roman frowned. "Grinch! Ugh! It's such a horrible name! One that Mayor Anton started. Virgil is the kindest person I have ever met. He just wants to be left alone. And he likes being our local cryptid." Roman sighed, starstruck. "Isn't he the greatest?"

Emile smiled softly. "You really love him."

Roman nodded. "I do. We-" he looked down at his hand. "We're engaged now!"

"Congratulations!"

Roman smiled. "Thank you."

"When…did you see Virgil again after that day?"

Roman sighed. "It was sometime 8 or 9 years later. Anton had asked me to the school dance. And I was so furious with him. I would much rather go with Virgil. Plus, he had played a big part in driving him away. So right after school, I grabbed the gift Virgil had made me, I had kept it in a box all those years, and I marched up Mount Crumpit in the hopes I would be able to see where he might have gone. And then I found a door. I knocked, and his parents opened it."

Roman paused. "I was in such a shock. And I asked to talk to Virgil and they, although suspicious, let me. And Virgil fixed the gift after I apologized for not standing up for him. After that, we just…kept in touch. I would visit him at least once every week. And eventually, after his parents moved back to town for good, we went on a date. And…” Roman smiled fondly. "The rest is history I suppose."

Emile smiled. "I think...I might want to make him the holiday cheermeister."

Roman blinked. "Oh hun, I don't know. He has anxiety and probably won't accept."

Emile shrugged. "It's worth a shot."

“You’re right about that…” Roman grinned. "I'll help you convince him!"

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome."

Emile stood to leave only to pause before they reached the door. "Where's the gift he made you now?"

Roman smiled softly. "Its sitting right beside my bed." Emile smiled and nodded before leaving. The Grinch wasn't bad. He wasn't even a Grinch after all. He was just a victim of bullying. As Emile walked home, he decided he was going to make the town see the real "Grinch".

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Everything Taglist: @spxced-oxt @superwholocked-for-life @mirror2thespirit @aroundofapplesauce @lyditist @little-euro-girl @unicornofdarknessstuff @maryann-draws

The Emo Who Stole Christmas Taglist: @logical-princey

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elyssebeeart · 4 years

Text

Your Warmth

A writing commission for @visionsofwings (PDF on dA)

Series: Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go Pairing: FandomxCanon (MhairixGibson), CanonxCanon (SparxxNova) Word count: ~6.7k Rating: G Previous: Starlit Garden Next: What About Us

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“It’s picking up out there.” Nova looked through a window, the yellow cyborg monkey watching trees leaning as the wind blew increasingly more violent. Bits of white carried on the wind, sticking to the window as the temperature was dropping past freezing. She suppressed a shiver as she hugged herself tighter, “Ew, so cold.”

“We’d best hurry back to the Super Robot before it gets worse.” Chiro joined her to watch the gusts that were surely frosty, Flint the little red dragon nestled on his shoulder. “At least we made it to this inn before it started.”

“I didn’t think the mission would take so long, the storm just snuck up on us.” Gibson observed as he stood away from the others, looking pensive. “The weather patterns showed no hint of a tempest approaching until we reached here.”

Beside the chief scientist, Mhairi was looking wide eyed at the storm, mug in her talons as she drank a complimentary drink that was intended for the road back to the Super Robot. The Grypherian didn’t look excited at the prospect of racing to beat the brewing storm, “It looks wet out there... just a bit.” She took a quick sip and edged closer to the nearby fireplace.

Sparx joined Nova’s side, slyly putting an arm around her shoulders, earning a blush as he smirked, “Last save point, anyone?”

“Perhaps we should wait a while before venturing out.” Antauri suggested, the silver robotic monkey tilting his head as he observed. “We are unfamiliar with the planet’s weather after all. I’m sure the Super Robot will be fine on its own in snowy conditions.”

“Ooo! Ooo! Anyone want to build a snowman?!” Otto exclaimed, rushing toward the front door, only to be barricaded by a large horned, white-haired being.

“Absolutely not!” The furred creature bellowed, possibly glaring down at Otto but it was hard to tell thanks to the shaggy hair covering its eyes. It crossed it arms as it blocked the way out. “No one goes out in weather like this. You won’t be able to see your hand in front of your face within a few minutes, never mind you ending up an icicle! It’ll last at least a day if we’re lucky,” it finished with a snort, as if daring to be challenged.

“Uh...” Chiro and the others stared at the native being who towered over them all, the furry biped looking far from warm and huggable despite the thick fur.

“What my mate means is you’re free to stay here until the storm passes. It’s not like we’ll be having any more guests coming.” Another voice spoke, calling attention to a slightly smaller being of the same species though it had larger horns. The more friendly of the pair smiled, showing off sharp teeth as they gestured to the interior of the inn, “It’s on the house since you came to help our people out. Wouldn’t be right not to offer hospitality as thanks. Plus you don’t have anywhere else to go.”

The bigger of the mates let out a snort of agreement, nodding but refusing to move from in front of the door, physically blocking any further progress. “We have five rooms available you can use.”

“That’s generous of you, I suppose some of us will double up being there’s seven of us.” Antauri gave a polite bow to their hosts. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“Not to worry, the rooms are spacious. Plenty of room for two.” The shorter innkeeper assured, smiling wider and showing off a pair of tusks. “Right, Yet’ta dear?”

“Indeed, Bentley sweetie.” His mate smiled, seemingly relaxing as the two shared a private moment despite their guests that stood between them. “You’ll all be quite comfortable. We’re not highly rated for nothing, even if we’re the only inn for miles.”

Bentley let out a snort of laughter, trying to cover it up with a cough. “We’ll leave room arrangements to you but they’re right down that hall.” He pointed in the direction, maintaining a polite business like smile, though as hair swept out of his eyes for a moment one could swear they twinkled.

“Well, Nova and I get the first room.” Sparx piped up, his arm still around Nova who, despite their public and hardly shy relationship, blushed once more and bashfully smacked him, the unintended force sending him stumbling.

“That’s one room down, as for the other four I suppose-”Antauri turned toward the others but was cut off.

“Hey, Gibson! You and Mhairi should get your own room too!”

Gibson immediately sputtered at Otto’s unwarranted suggestion while Mhairi, who had been enjoying her drink to push away any thoughts of getting wet from an outside venture, inhaled on accident and entered a small coughing fit.

As Mhairi tried to recover from choking and the shock of the proposition, noticeably beginning to turn red, Gibson looked wide eyed at his green teammate, mouth hanging open, “Wha-wha?! Otto! Why would you say that? That is highly inappropriate for you to suggest!”

“Why not, Gibson? Afraid you’ll scare her off if she has to share the room with you all alone? All night?” Sparx barbed, grinning mischievously as he watched the two turn similar shades of red, Mhairi out of embarrassment and Gibson possibly out of embarrassment and anger.

“That’s not-”

“Hey, guys it’s no big deal. I can just bunk with Otto or Antauri,” Chiro held up his hands as Gibson glared at his cheeky comrade, Mhairi suddenly looking overly interested in her mug, while Nova glared at Sparx and elbowed him, earning a wince as she disapproved of his teasing. “That way Mhairi can have her own room as well as Gibson.”

“Aw, come on guys!” Otto exclaimed, waving his hands as he tried to plead his case. “Why not share a room? You’re dating and hang out together all the time! Spending the night should be fun! Like a sleepover! Ooo, we can all do a sleepover!”

“Not this time, Otto. Maybe once we’re back on the Robot.” Antauri quickly slipped in, redirecting Otto’s innocent proposal. “We should let each choose for themselves their room arrangements. No sense forcing it and causing ill feelings.”

“Even if it makes perfect sense.” Sparx muttered not too quietly, earning another glare from Gibson and a disapproving “Sparx!” from Nova.

“My protest was the fact someone else suggested it.” Gibson countered, folding his arms as he told a half lie, heart quickening at the prospect of sharing a room with his girlfriend. “I never said we wouldn’t share a room, it’s our business. Right, Mhairi?”

Mhairi, still red, opened her beak but then closed it, giving a quick nod as she tried to become one with the wall. The agreement from his paramour solidified Gibson’s confidence, his pride soaring despite the tempting intimate thought as he smirked at Sparx, “Besides, shouldn’t you be worried Nova will kick you out, Sparx? Noisy awake, noisy asleep; perfectly logical.”

“I think you’re getting our situations mixed up.” Sparx challenged back, sparks flying between him and Gibson as both refused to back down.

“Sparx, stop making a scene in the middle of the inn.” Nova hissed, glancing around as other guests were presently tucked in their rooms or milling about.

“So I guess it’s in agreement for who has the shared rooms. Guess Flint’s with me.” Chiro shrugged, trying to bring the discussion to a close as he felt embarrassed at the bickering though it was nothing new. Flint let out a small cough on his shoulder, a puff of coal dust escaping him.

“Of course!” Gibson declared with fierce look of determination as he couldn’t let Sparx win. “A room for Mhairi and I! We claim the one farthest from Sparx.”

“Why, afraid of what I’ll hear?” Sparx grinned mischievously before Nova had enough and elbowed him once more, grabbing his audio antennae and telling him to knock it off and stop making Mhairi feel uncomfortable.

“Okay, that’s settled!” Chiro announced, looking relieved. “Antauri and Otto can choose their rooms and I’ll take whatever’s left over.”

“Whoo! Let’s go check them out!” Otto exclaimed and dashed off in the direction of the rooms. The others followed, leaving their hosts looking bemused, though two of them remained behind.

“It’ll be fine!” Gibson turned toward Mhairi who was looking a little too intently at the fire, the flames making her even hotter as she tried to hide her flushed state. He smiled at her, hands on hips as he brimmed with confidence now that Sparx had been brought to heel, thanks to his levelheaded girlfriend. He ignored the flutter in his chest, focusing on keeping his emotions in check and not push boundaries on accident, “All the privacy we need and with room to spare! Room for two, right?”

“Y-you’re right.” Mhairi managed, looking at him and smiling though she looked shy. She drew closer to him, leaving her mug on a nearby table as she gave a wider though nervous smile. “It’ll be fine.”

* * *

“This is NOT fine!”

Gibson and Mhairi stood in their room which indeed was spacious given the default size seemed to be for the natives of the planet Maelaia. The accommodations were nice and cozy with little room for complaint except for one major detail staring at them in the middle of the room.

There was only one bed.

“Uh…” Mhairi was flushing as she look at the sizeable bed that indeed left plenty of room for two while also speaking volumes about the present status of their relationship. Gibson, being the one to insist the sharing of a room under the assumption there were two beds, could feel panic mounting in his chest. He immediately thought of Sparx’s expression and could practically hear his laughter in his head at the realization all the rooms must share the same layout. The simian troll was probably ready to rush down to their room and inquire about the accommodations, smug look and voice saying it all. His alarmed state only escalated when Mhairi looked at him in her own panic, her face beginning turning red again as they locked gazes.

“Perhaps there’s another room available, we can simply switch with another guest if possible. I mean why say there’s room for two and there’s only one bed when there is two of us? Surely there is a pullout bed somewhere. Maybe a trundle!” Gibson babbled, racing toward the bed and looking under it in hopes of finding a hidden mattress that would qualm his growing hysteria at the predicament.

Alas nothing was under the bed, not even a dust bunny.

While Gibson kneeled on the floor looking like he was considering in believing in divinity and prayer right there for an answer, there was an excited cheer from next door that sounded like Otto.

Instantly there was the faint sound of sequential squeaks followed by a cheery, “This bed is humungous! Oh! We should play Five Little Monkeys! We have five monkeys! Hey guys!” The squeaks stooped, followed by a thud as feet hit the ground and Otto apparently stuck his head out into the hall. “Anyone want to play?”

“Um, no thanks, Otto.” Mhairi managed as she called over her shoulder toward the door. She fiddled with her talons as she looked at the floor to the bed to Gibson and then the ceiling.

“I can’t go out there. Sparx will be right outside, I know it. He’ll rub it in my face and I won’t hear the end of it.” Gibson was mumbling, hand on his forehead. “Those innkeepers absolutely set us up, didn’t they? I’ll file a complaint—no the others will know. The floor is an option, I mean we have plenty of pillows. What kind of service is this anyways?”

“Uh, we could... I mean...” Mhairi attempted, the feathers on her cheeks puffing slightly as she grew warmer. She began to twiddle her talons, looking at him uncertainly, “You... you know. Share the bed. It’s not fair if someone sleeps on the floor. And we don’t want to be teased for backing out by sharing with one of the others.”

Gibson looked at her, mouth hanging open as he tried to process the unexpected proposal. “Y-you... I mean, that’s completely... that is... we... uh... you’d be fine with that?” He turned red as the words left his mouth.

“I mean I shared the bed with Echo and Flint plenty of times! And there is room to spare, there’s nothing to worry about. It’s not like we’re strangers or anything.” Mhairi hastily explained, twiddling her talons as she looked at the ground, turning redder as she fought to control her wild thoughts that her abundant romance novel collection spurred. “I’m okay with it if you are... it’s just a bed.”

“True.” Gibson relaxed a bit seeing Mhairi was in agreement. “It’s just a bed, we’re simply sharing it. It’s not as if we haven’t shared seats next to each other. We’re merely resting within close proximity!”

Both fell silent and shifted their gazed elsewhere, still red. It was hardly the intimate set up either was ready for despite being in a relationship for a while. Still the sudden jump to an intimate scenario Sparx was hoping to tease them about left them both a mess as neither were prepared nor had talked about it before.

It was just a bed. Being shared by two people. Why did it have to be a thing more than that, until they were ready? The teasing certainly did not help the innocent scenario nor did their actual romantic relationship, awkwardness mounting.

“I, uh, should get changed.” Mhairi stiffly pointed toward a nearby shelf, trying to move the situation along. “It looks like there’s a bunch of complimentary pajamas for various sized guests.”

“Ah, yes. Indeed. Good idea.” Gibson nodded, looking to the pile though his mind was elsewhere.

Mhairi made her way over and picked through the pile of clothes before finding one small enough for her. “I’ll be back in a bit.” She hurried off toward the open bathroom door and shut it behind her, allowing Gibson to let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Great Scott, what a mess.” He pressed a hand to his head as he looked back at the rather excessively comfortable-looking large bed. Indeed there was enough room without invading personal space but the thought of laying next to Mhairi as they slept made him blush again. “Get yourself together, Mr. Hal Gibson! It’s just for one night; she’s fine with it so you should be too. Either way Sparx is going to tease you, but if he knows you chickened out it’ll be ten times worse!”

Meanwhile on the other side of the bathroom door Mhairi was pressing her face into the pajamas, muffling a barely contained scream as she turned a brighter red. The fabric was soft and fluffy but it wasn’t enough to distract her as she was trying to control her emotions regarding the situation.

She lifted her face after a minute, taking a breath, “Pull yourself together. You’ve read plenty of romance novels that handle this very scenario. You’ve got this covered; you’re totally prepared. Besides, we’re just sharing the bed, lying next to each other. We’re not…”

Her brain stalled as she grew even warmer, feathers ruffled as she turned a near impossible shade of red. She pressed her face into the pajamas once more, letting out a mild screech as her romantic daydreaming tendencies were not helping the awkward situation. Eventually she pulled back, taking deep breaths as she tried to calm down. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s just for one night. Besides I’m the one who basically said it was no big deal!”

She turned to look into the bathroom mirror, taking in her flushed cheeks and puffed out fur. “Get it together, Mhairi. This is the real life, not one of your romantic stories… even if they’re all I have to go on…” She reached up one talon and patted her cheeks, trying to smack some sense into herself as well as pat down her ruffled fur. “If I take too long Gibson’s going to know something’s wrong.”

She exhaled once more, determination replacing her flustered expression. She glanced down at the pajamas in her arms and unfurled them to lay them out as she changed. Instantly she tensed as she looked at the cozy clothing, her cheeks growing warm once more. “This… isn’t going to help.”

After some minutes of silent contemplation of perhaps making an excuse of why she should sleep in her day clothes or dare stepping out to pick through the clothing pile for perhaps an alternative outfit, Mhairi surrendered and slipped out of her clothes and put on the nightwear. Following fussing with her hair for minutes, trying to buy more time to gain nerve, she stood in front the bathroom door. She took a few breaths as she braced herself before reaching for the handle and slowly opening it, color in her cheeks once more while looking down shyly.

“Gib-… what’s going on?” Mhairi’s embarrassment turned to confusion as she looked up only to see her boyfriend’s head was hidden from view behind a partly open front door, apparently looking out with his attention clearly elsewhere.

“Our hosts were a bit concerned to find Flint in the fireplace.” Gibson explained as he pulled his head back from the open door, closing it. “Seems he slipped out on Chiro and decided he wanted to sit in the flames for a moment. It’s perfectly alright, Chiro has it hand-”

Gibson’s words died as his gaze went to Mhairi, his jaw falling open as he stared. Instantly Mhairi felt self-conscious and blushed, talons behind her back to hide her fiddling. Her tail curled around her feet protectively as her gaze shifted, unable to meet his wide eyes. “O-oh. That’s good… Flint does love curling up in the hottest place he can find…”

Gibson was silent, his eyes glued on Mhairi with a gaping mouth before something in his brain clicked and the ability to speak slowly was realized, “Mhairi… you… wow. I…”

“Is it that bad?” Mhairi flushed as she fidgeted, swishing the comfortable silvery nightgown she wore, the fabric suspiciously looking similar to their host’s fur. “M-maybe I should change into something else. I-It’s really soft but a gown in this weather, even if inside, really isn’t practical, don’t you think? Yes, maybe I should see if something else would be a better choice-”

“You look beautiful.”

Mhairi’s beak snapped shut, cutting off her nervous rambling as her eyes left the floor to look at Gibson. Their gazes met and silence fell, Mhairi red while Gibson looked speechless, both regarding each other. Mhairi bit back a squeak and ran her talons through her hair. “R-really?"

“Of course!” Gibson exclaimed, his cheeks turning slightly red. “I mean, that is… you always look beautiful… just…” He let out a slow exhale, his eyes on her as his voice went lower, “you look absolutely stunning.”

Mhairi barely suppressed a squeak as she combed her hair with her talons faster, unsure how much warmer she could get as a tingling sensation settled over her. “It’s n-nothing really… I mean… th-thanks.” She stammered, managing to look him in the eyes despite feeling overwhelmingly self-conscious.

“Ah, yes, well… uh, I better go freshen myself up as well! Nothing like a quick grooming before bed!” Gibson announced, clearing his throat as he made a beeline for the bathroom, movement slightly stiff-legged. He disappeared into the room with a click from the door closing and both flustered parties let out a deep breath on either side.

Mhairi looked from the bathroom back to the bed, fiddling with her talons for a few minutes more. “You got this, Mhairi.” She strode over to the sizable bed and with a slight hop managed to land on the mattress.

Instantly soft blankets molded to her talons and the softness of the bed seemed to swallow her up. Surprised, Mhairi patted the covers before flexing her talons, feeling the blankets bunch underneath. A small sigh of relief escaped her at the plush material followed by a small trill that formed in her throat naturally.

“Ah, the bed’s really soft.” Mhairi announced with warm cheeks as she heard the bathroom door open and the purr ceased out if embarrassment. She quickly smoothed out the plush blankets, patting it down to hide the fact she had been kneading the fabric. The gravity of the situation pressed down once more and her heart fluttered as she looked at Gibson, any other words failing her as her brain sputtered to a halt.

“It looks like it.” Gibson replied, not moving from the doorway, clearly stalling.

Mhairi fought her bashfulness and gave the bed a gentle pat as she scooted over, warmth spreading throughout her body. Her heart quickened but she gave an encouraging though shy smile, “Maybe you should try it. Bet it’s nothing like you’ve felt before.”

“Oh I’m certain; I trust your esteemed judgment,” came the stiff reply, awkward and guarded though sincere as Gibson nodded, giving a strained smile.

Mhairi’s expression turned to mild confusion, “Do you… want to sleep on the bed?”

“I think I’ll wait a bit before I retire. Maybe read in the chair since we have a few books of choice to peruse. Or perhaps soak in the tub. It’s been a long day, plus it’ll give you some privacy.”

“Oh… uh, okay.” Her face fell, her grip on the bedding tightening before loosening, a hint of disappointment in her eyes. “I mean, thanks. I appreciate it. M-make sure you don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Of course. I’d just hate to keep you awake while my mind is abuzz. Have to first let my brain unwind after such a busy day!”

“I guess that’s true…” Mhairi seemed to resign, hit by a pang of disappointment and envy at the thought of Sparx and Nova sharing a room with little trouble—unlike them.

Awkwardness seemed to blanket the room, Mhairi on the bed with a mixed expression and Gibson still by the bathroom. Both pointedly ignored their increased heartbeats and the storm of feelings that matched the raging blizzard trapping them at the inn.

Gibson hesitated, curling and uncurling his hands before opening his mouth. However as he did so he stilled abruptly. His eyes shifted to the floor, pinpointing what had caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. His optics adjusted, zooming in like binoculars as he went on alert at the suspicious movement.

He stared with scrutiny while whatever caught his attention halted inching across the floor and seemingly stared back. It made the mistake of twitching, flipping a switch in Gibson’s mind.

“BUG!” Gibson shouted, letting out a primal monkey screech. He leapt high into the air, fur bristling, and landed on the high bed with an audible thump despite the professed softness. The insect seemed to react to the sudden sound by wriggling furiously and shooting out a long white substance in apparent panic and defense like a party streamer.

“What?! Where?” Mhairi instantly was vigilant, blue eyes wide as she scurried over to the edge of the bed and peered over. She took an interested look at the wriggling creature without a hint of fear, eyes shining with curiosity, “Oh! A silkworm? Huh, I guess that explains the silk threads in my nightgown and the bed. Our hosts must use them to create fabric. They’re harmless!”

“It’s. A. Bug.” Gibson breathed, heart thundering against his ribcage as if it were about to perform a prison break. He stood ridged on the bed, grimacing as his fur stood on end. “A disgusting, crawling organism that I do NOT appreciate being in the same vicinity as me. What sort of inn are they running, letting those things crawl about?!”

“Well, it’s gone now. I think you scared each other.” She informed, watching from the edge as the alien silkworm displayed incredible speed and shot under the door where there was a small crack. “It’s safe to get down.”

“I think I’ll stay here for a while.” Gibson stiffly informed, still looking spooked. “I mean, the bed is high-I mean comfortable. It feels like I’m on a warm cloud—that is if clouds were physical and not just vapor and water. Why should I get down now?”

Mhairi blinked at his rambling, noting the nervousness and paranoia he tried to cover with logic. She tried not to smile at his expense and simply nodded, “I’ll just… lay down over here. Though, I can check and see if it’s gone-”

“NO! I mean, no, it’s fine. No need to inconvenience yourself for my sake. You’re already comfortable. It’s not like if we open the door there’s going to be a parade of them marching off to go cocoon or forage,” He added the last part nervously.

“If you say so.” She resigned, slowly edging back toward the middle of the bed, trying not to stare though she snuck a glance. Catching a curious look out of the corner of her eye she adjusted her seat, sinking into the material a bit more. Conversation escaped her as she tried to grasp for something rather than the nervous energy between them, “Well, at least the bed is heavenly.”

Gibson twitched at the change of subject, eyes still glued on the crack. “Huh? Oh, yes. It is.” He nodded, attention clearly elsewhere. After a few watchful moments, he slowly sat down, hands running over the covers.

The conversation lulled and the two remained on the bed in silence, Gibson mumbling to himself over the components of the mattress and blankets as a distraction and Mhairi quietly staring at the ceiling, fiddling with her claws.

She snuck glances at Gibson once in a while, nervousness buzzing through her veins. Her beak opened slightly a few times, searching for words but resigned to focusing on the ceiling’s wooden beams to seek out a pattern to distract herself with. Her tail flicked slightly and curled as a sense of longing settled in her chest, invoking warmth that spread and rose to her face.

Gibson let out a sigh to decompress as he lay down, searching for a new distraction as time stretched on. He fought the urge to drum his fingers, and eventually his mind went back to Mhairi’s hair; it looked so soft and beautiful.

The impulse to touch and run his hands through it grew and Gibson was lost in fantasy until he felt something lightly brush against his tail. He was jerked out of his thoughts, fur bristling as his head whipped toward the source. Paranoia overcame him over the thought that another unwelcomed insect was in the room with them. A barely muffled screech formed in his throat that he fought to keep contained led to a high-pitched bewildered, “Wha-“

“S-Sorry!” Mhairi blurted, jerking her wandering tail away from him and curling up tighter. Color flushed her cheeks as she glared at her tail as if about to scold it like a naughty pet.

“Oh… Oh! It’s alright! I was just startled out of my thoughts.” Gibson assured, looking at her though his eyes went to her let down hair before back to her bashful expression. Warmth crawled up his neck and he let out a cough, his gaze shifting back to the ceiling as if he could pin the growing want in his chest above him, “Got a lot on my mind.”

She gave a nod, still flushing. Both fell silent once again, the faint noises from the lobby barely penetrating the walls. Next door, Otto seemed to have tired himself out from playing as not a sound escaped from the other room. Thoughts of embrace teased the two as they were over an arm’s-length from one another, the pleasure of looking at the other’s face while they lay sleeping-

“Oh!” Mhairi squeaked, flinching and looking down in time to see Gibson’s tail stroke hers, caressing it gently. Her eyes widened as she watched the retreating tail, shifting to Gibson’s face with a look of confusion and curiosity.

“Sorry.” Gibson apologized, suddenly very self-conscious as his own tail betrayed his yearning. The thought of being nearer to Mhairi resulted in his tail subconsciously seeking her out. With warm cheeks he swished it away, laying stiffly with resolve to mind his manners no matter the desire burning in his chest.

Both lay still, awkward and flushing, very aware of the distance between them.

When it was nearing an hour and sleep still evaded both of them, Gibson steeled himself. Anxiety was humming through his body as his heart continued to thud, urging him to sneak a glance at Mhairi once more, which he finally did after adamant deliberation. She was still pointedly watching the ceiling, but he noticed, despite the warmth he felt increasing once more, that she was wearing the bell collar he had gifted her to bed. His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise; he had been too preoccupied with her emergence from the bathroom in the flattering nightgown and hair down to note that detail.

“Oh, you’re wearing the collar.” The comment slipped out before he realized it and Mhairi stilled at the break in silence.

“Y-yeah… I never take it off. Uh, that is, if I take it off I don’t want to chance losing it. It’s really comfortable and it’s not too noisy. It doesn’t bother me to sleep with.” She babbled, her gaze darting away as she seemed to grow red again. Her voice came out soft, tinged with embarrassment and tenderness, “It’s an important gift from you.”

Gibson stared at her for a moment, taken aback as she fidgeted, touching the collar fondly. Plucking up his courage to speak his mind with sincere reassurance and praise, he hesitantly began, “I just... I wanted to say how pretty your hair looks. I’ve never seen it down before.”

“Oh?” She squeaked, blue eyes widening with surprise as she turned toward him. “Y-you think so? I-it’s nothing special.”

“It’s different and I like it. Though, to be accurate, it is special since it’s just another aspect of you.” He paused, feeling flushed and his voice came out low, “You… are amazing, Mhairi.”

“Wh-What?” She sputtered, staring at him. “What brought this on?”

Gibson swallowed his hesitation, unlocking his intertwined fingers and gesturing, “It’s the truth. I just wanted to take a moment to tell you that. Let you know you’re appreciated. And you really helped out earlier.”

“Well, of course; I’m part of the team. I do what I can to help.”

“Right, but I still wanted to voice my affirmation.”

“Oh… well, I… We wouldn’t have pulled through without your keen observation. But aside from the recent mission…” Mhairi turned to look at him, feathers slightly puffed with a red shade on her cheeks, “you’re pretty amazing too.”

“I guess the verdict is unanimous.” Gibson attempted to joke despite his heart fluttering and Mhairi gave a little nod and shy smile. Although the ice had been broken, the awkward situation still lingered over them, nerves beginning to rise again once the distraction of conversation was gone.

Gibson caught movement out of the corner of his eye again, slightly tensing only to see Mhairi’s tail slowly moving in his direction with growing flicks. As he regarded the nearing tail with amusement, Mhairi let out a gasp in realization and pulled it back once more. “It’s alright.” Gibson assured though she looked petrified as if ready to die from embarrassment. “There’s plenty of room.”

“I-I know. I…” Mhairi hesitated, debating silently before saying with a deeper blush, “I just don’t want to be in your space... Er, I mean, I do! I really want to be!”

Gibson blinked in surprise, earning a hasty explanation and an even redder Mhairi who blurted, “I really want to cuddle! It’s all I’ve been thinking about while lying here! I’ve been wanting to snuggle since we got into this situation, to be near you and embrace you. L-Like the lovers in my books! I really wanted to experience it for myself, with someone I completely care for and love and… Ancestors! You must think I’m a selfish, hopeless romantic.”

Gibson regarded Mhairi, her face hidden in her talons, while he felt himself grow warm as well, at a loss for words. He was stunned for a few moments before smiling softly and shyly, “I wouldn’t mind.”

“Y-you wouldn’t?” Came the half-muffled response, Mhairi peeking partly through her talons.

“No, the warmth would be nice…” He shifted and moved slightly closer, his circuits buzzing as his heart pounded and soared, “Your warmth would be nice. Honestly, I’ve been thinking of being near you this whole time, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to initiate or not.”

“You have!?” She exclaimed, talons pulled away from her face as she looked at him in disbelief. Her eyes shone with hopefulness, but still shy and embarrassed.

Gibson offered a wider smile and reached out slowly. His hand brushed her hair gently, lightly caressing her face as he moved a few locks out of the way. “Absolutely consumed by it, like solving the unknown realms of quantum physics.”

Mhairi’s shade of red deepened and she let out a squeaky, “O-oh.” Her eyes flickered down and for a few moments she did nothing. Then slowly, she scooted closer, her tail flicking before swiping across Gibson’s legs and moving down, brushing against his tail with longing.

Gibson smiled and flicked his own tail, gently wrapping his around hers to keep it from slipping away, a light blush on his cheeks as he accepted the gesture. The reciprocated action startled Mhairi, her eyes widening but she did not pull away, instead letting her tail intertwine with his.

“Th-this…Is nice.” Mhairi confessed, looking as if she were about to combust at the intimacy she craved so deeply and was now being indulged with. She inhaled, taking in Gibson’s scent, feeling his body radiating heat since they were currently only a few inches apart. “It feels...”

“It feels right,” Gibson smiled, slowly extending a hand toward her, palm up in invitation. Mhairi hesitated briefly though she slowly reached out to gently grasped his hand, to which Gibson repositioned their hands upright to intertwine their fingers.

The two lay in silence, unsure of what to say as they simply soaked up the sensation of the other’s touch and gazing shyly at one another. Mhairi flexed her talons slightly, giving a tender squeeze that Gibson returned, sending a ripple of comfort through both of them.

After a while Gibson curled closer, letting out a sigh of contentment. “You were right before; this bed is quite comfortable. I could fall asleep at any moment. I wonder what they use to stuff the mattresses? Some type of plant fiber? Our hosts’ own fur perhaps? I can see why Otto wanted to play; this is another dimension of comfort.”

A giggle escaped Mhairi as blush crept across her face once more, “Think that’s how they really trap guests here? The beds alone will make you never want to leave, never mind a storm.”

“Maybe, it’s a diabolical scheme. This bed might swallow us up with its alluring comfort.” Gibson teased, smirking at his companion. “Do you suppose we’ve stumbled onto some villains hiding in plain sight?”

“Oh you know it!”

“Perhaps we should alert the others. Clearly it’s a very serious matter.”

“The dastardly acts of hospitality must be investigated!”

The two laughed lightly, the bed quivering slightly with their mirth. The detour was proving itself manageable thanks to the amount of comfort the inn offered as well as the company being kept.

Gibson smiled, inching closer to Mhairi as he felt emboldened, “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

“Me too.” Mhairi drew closer until her knees brushed against him. Soon the two were embracing, Gibson running his hand gently through her hair and fur, and Mhairi through his, “Definitely worth it.”

Gibson could only smile wider and hug Mhairi closer. The two lay still, limbs entangled and tails wrapped around each other. As they snuggled Mhairi let out a sigh, a light purr escaping her and Gibson blushed.

“I love you, Gibson.”

“And I love you.” Gibson gently kissed her forehead, feeling warmth throughout his body at her words, his own confession coming out easily. Mhairi curled closer before turning her head upward and giving him a tiny kiss.

“Sleep well.”

“Sweet dreams, Mhairi.”

Both continued to lay together, a mix of small kisses and purrs as the night went on. Finally the day caught up to them and the feeling of comfort and warmth carried the two off to sleep.

* * *

Gibson awoke the next morning with something warm pressed against his chest and a tickling sensation on his chin. Confused for a moment he drowsily pulled his head back to find Mhairi curled against him, her talon resting gently against his chest while her hair brushed against his chin. Instantly he remembered the night before and where they were.

As he looked at her sleeping face with a fresh blush spreading across his own, his breath catching, which in turn caused his chest to shudder. Mhairi’s brow scrunched together in slight vexation and curled closer to him, letting out a sleepy murmur, “Just five more minutes.”

Gibson suppressed a chuckle as he watched her. He dared to wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer and running his fingers through her hair once more. As the sunbeams from outside shown through the curtains on the window, Gibson’s thoughts drifted. What time was it anyways? He’d lost track as they had laid together for who knows how long until they had drifted off to sleep. He could faintly hear noises from outside, alerting him that it was late enough for other guests to be awake.

Suddenly there was an energetic knock on the door as he was just about to check his internal clock. Before he could answer, the door flew open—mortifyingly reminding Gibson he had forgotten to lock it the night before—and banged against the wall with a resounded smack.

“WAKEY, WAKEY! EGGS AND BAKEY!” Otto declared, throwing his arms out dramatically as he stood in the doorway, beaming.

“Otto! What are you doing!?” Gibson demanded, bolting upright and jostling Mhairi who let out a startled noise. He had half a mind to throw a blanket over the two of them as if something scandalous had been discovered.

“Sparx said you might need a ‘courtesy call’ since you guys overslept!” Otto smiled wider, looking at the two of them without a hint of embarrassment or shame. “Morning~”

“Of course he did.” Gibson dragged a hand tiredly over his face, certain he could hear Sparx’s snickers from around the corner.

“Mhmmm, what?” Mhairi sleepily wondered, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. She blinked sleepily at Otto and the open door. Instantly her eyes widened and a startled squeak escaped her as she turned a fresh shade of red and pulled the sheets to cover herself despite the nightgown she was still wearing.

“Otto… could you please give us a moment?” Gibson asked as politely as he could manage, his annoyance and exasperation nearly at a record high.

“Oh yeah!” The green monkey nodded, turning around to grant them some privacy. “I’ll let the others know you’re coming!” He paused as he pivoted, tensing with realization, “Oh, I almost forgot! I have something really cool to show you!”

“Can it wai-” Gibson began as Otto grabbed at something behind his back.

“Check out this cool worm I found!” Otto beamed with childlike wonder, holding up an all too familiar form that instantly wiggled as if on cue.

Needless to say anyone else sleeping in was instantly woken by the sound of a high-pitched scream that resounded throughout the inn and shook the nearby mountain clear of its freshly fallen snow.

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logansanderslove · 5 years

Text

Logan 3.0 (1/?)

CO-AUTHOR: @demented-dukey

Summary: Remus is an incorrigible flirt, and Logan can only bear the innuendo for so long until something has to give. Passions erupt, but there are more lasting repercussions than either could have predicted, including a significant transformation to Logan himself! How will these new changes affect the delicate balance of Thomas's mental state? When a new dark side threatens the lives of several of the other sides, will Logan and Remus's love be strong enough to save everyone, including Thomas?

Ships: INTRULOGICAL

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Thomas, Roman, Virgil, Patton, Deceit

Fic type: Drama, Romantic, Action, Flirty

Trigger Warnings: No character deaths, but a lot of very close calls. Consensual knife play and bloodplay, and lots of bloody fighting and monster attacks. If you’re sensitive to unsympathetic characters, some parts flirt pretty close to that, but there’s also a lot of extenuating circumstances to explain the situation, and there’s a happy ending once you get through the angst and misunderstandings. Self-harm and references to such, and suicidal tendencies.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1: Witty Banter

Logic and Bad Creativity had been disputing all day, and as late as it was now, it didn't seem like they were going to stop any time soon.

Logan crossed his arms as he leaned against the stairs in the common area, staring nonchalantly at the Dark Side before him. “You don’t get to me in the slightest, Remus. You never have. Object impermanence renders you pretty unintimidating.”

Remus smirked in his regular cocky way, suggestively stroking the ninja star that he held in his hands. “Is that so, Nerdy Wolverine?” His voice was smooth and unbothered.

Logan nodded. “Yes, it IS, you foul and infatuated goat.” He spat, but Remus just smiled.

“Ooh, thank you for the metaphorical regards! ‘Foul’ and ‘goat-like’ is what I’m going for!” he said, clapping his hands excitedly. “I thought it might be a fun change from the pickled poo logs.”

Logan frowned, rather frustrated that his attempted insult had backfired. “Ah. I see. Would it bother you then if I were to call you nice and harmless? Cherubic? How about spritely? Were I to call you caring and loving, especially towards your brother, would that bother you, Remus?” He remarked, but Remus just shrugged off the innuendo and giggled.

“I love how hard you try, it’s so cute!” he cooed. He then approached the logical side, letting his fingertips slide down Logan’s tie suggestively. “If you’re interested, I’d be happy to provide you a personal show of just how loving I can be?” He said with a wink and a dirty grin.

Logan forced a smile as he ignored Remus' suggestive actions. “Well, while that offer is certainly tempting, Remus, I am going to have to decline. I’m not exactly sure how I would put up with your lunacy, and I also doubt that the others would find this offer very… acceptable.” He stated, bringing a scoff from Remus.

“Those spoilsports would never have to know,” he winked at Logan. “I can be covert if you’d like.”

Logan gave him a dead-eyed stare. “Can you? Well, Remus, as I said before, all I would ever do is figuratively dress you down. That is all.”

Remus’ eyes lit up. “OH! Well, if that’s what you wanted, Logan,” he unzipped his pants. “You could’ve just said so!”

Logan shook his head, holding up his hand. “AH AH AH AH. I said, FIGURATIVELY. And that is why I say it. That. Is. Why. I. Say. It!” He clapped his hands with each word. He let out a deep breath. "I don't just spout random words without meaning!! I say things for a reason!"

Remus’s expression fell into a frown, and he slowly zipped his pants back up. “Poopy...” he muttered sadly.

Logan groaned. "Oh, stop pouting. It’s not a good look for a royal man. Even if that man is you.”

Remus perked up, mood swinging as wildly as a pendulum, “Aw, Logan, you notice my looks? I’m flattered!” He said joyously.

Logan’s ears flushed a bit, realizing his mistake all too late. “No, I don’t. I just don’t exactly see a grown man whining and pouting as a productive thing to be doing.” He restated.

“It can be very productive to make a grown man whine if you’re doing it right,” Remus smirked, leering at him.

Logan’s face immediately went red. “That is not what I meant and you KNOW IT.” He defended quickly.

Remus shrugged, hands held up defensively, a big smile across his face. “Perhaps. Much like your lascivious thoughts, I just love showing up where I’m not invited,” he punctuated his words with a quick shimmy.

Logan’s eyes shot open. “WHA-” His flustered mind tried to find the words. “‘Lascivious’?! What on Earth would ever lead you to say that I, the VOICE OF REASON, would ever have such provocative thoughts?!” He spluttered, then he took a long breath, managing to calm himself. “And in all honesty, I believe that we are used to you showing up where you’re not invited by now, Remus. In fact, you just showing up is exactly that, because no one ever wants to invite you.” He snarked.

Remus tilted his head. “Deny it all you want, Neil deGrASS Tyson. You can’t block out all the juicy stuff.” He cooed with a little dance of sexual innuendo.

Logan put a hand to his face, groaning. “Please do not say ‘juicy’ in that context ever again.”

Remus opened his mouth, held up his finger, then clicked his tongue. “...Juicy butthole?” He questioned, to which Logan just froze, then let out an exasperated breath.

“REMUS. THAT IS WORSE.”

Remus frowned. “Did...did I say something wrong? Are you...are you gonna punish me, Teach?” He wondered, just bringing another sigh from Logan.

“Remus, why do you insist on trying to bother me?”

Remus ran his fingers over his mustache. “It’s no bother, I assure you! I’m only trying to help, you seem so tense, my dear disciplinarian.”

Logan adjusted his glasses with a breath. “I am told that I always seem that way. Whilst, in fact, I am very relaxed.”

Remus flicked his eyebrows up. "Like the eye of a storm? You should let the tempest rage sometimes…” He slunk closer. “And I don’t mind getting a little wet.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You, sir, are despicable.”

Remus stuck his tongue out. “I like to call myself de-lickable.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “NO.” He said sternly.

Remus put a finger to his chin in a suggestive manner. “Ooh, I love it when you raise your voice. Please, sir, what are your demands?” He drawled out.

Logan’s face sported the most unamused expression. “That you stop flirting with me. Don’t assume that I’m not aware of what you’re trying to do.”

Remus licked his lips. “Skip the appetizer and jump straight into the main course? As you wish!” He tore off his shirt as easily as lifting a feather. Logan’s eyes went wide and he waved his hands frantically.

“NO. NO, NO, NO. PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON RIGHT NOW, REMUS, OR I WILL SUMMON DECEIT TO REIGN YOU IN.” He ordered.

“Kinky! If you wanted a threesome, count me in! I LOVE being given two D’s at once!” Remus winked at him again, a seemingly regular occurrence. “My safe word is ‘apples’.” He then laughed. “I’m just kidding! I don’t have a safe word!”

Logan grabbed at his hair with an aggravated groan. “NO! REMUS, STOP! STOP THIS INCESSANT MADNESS!” He exclaimed desperately, to which Remus drew back a bit.

“Careful, Teach. Your calm is wearing a bit thin. I’d be happy to ruffle more than your feathers if you know what I mean…” He flirted.

The intellectual let out a deep breath. “I-” He couldn’t even make a sound other than angry flustered noises. “Please stop…” He finally got out, spinning away as he shook his head.

Remus hesitated, then he shrugged. “I changed my mind. I’m unpredictable like that, I don’t think you could handle all this,” he said as he shimmied. He then pulled his shirt back over his head gracefully. “Free show’s over. Wasted on you, anyways. You’re obviously too much of a brainiac to appreciate more physical pleasures.”

Logan rubbed his face with his hands. “Remus, please…” His voice was exasperated.

Remus’ voice became skeptical. “Had a change of heart? Doesn’t seem like that’s in your purview.”

Logan shook his head with a sigh. “No, Remus, that is not what I am trying to say.” He whirled around, his tolerance almost worn through. “Why are you so fascinated with ME? Why not go bother your brother or something? Why are you flirting with me?” He questioned, a tired tone to his voice.

Remus was quiet for a moment, eyeing Logan slowly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re a smart boy, Logan. Brilliant, even. Is it any wonder that I can’t look away from your brilliance?” A kind smile was offered. “You shine so brightly. You can hardly blame a moth for being attracted to the flame.”

Logan blinked in surprise, trying to process what he had just heard. “Wh-...You truly think of me so highly? I…” He didn’t know what to say.

Remus shrugged. “The others make it quite clear that they consider me below you all. How else could a lowly creature such as myself look upon you, but as if atop a pedestal?” He wondered.

Logan was still struggling to process this, but when he heard Remus’ statement, he suddenly realized something. “Remus, I… I have never considered you lower than anyone. I know that we all play our own parts, and no one is below anyone else.” He bit his lip. “As much as I sometimes despise your thinking, you are still an imperative part of our existence. You are Roman’s other half. If you were neglected, Roman would suffer. I have always valued your input, as odd as it can be. It is creativity in your own, unique way.”

He glanced to the side. “You… you shouldn’t feel like you have to annoy us all the time just to get noticed and to make you feel like a part of the group. I…I’ll always…” Logan hesitated, thinking on his words.

“Remus, I’ll always acknowledge you. As I said before, you don’t really affect me as much as the others. Granted, you can still irritate me, but I won’t ignore you. I just...want you to know that.” He said softly, finally raising his head.

Remus blinked a few times, twitching a bit, then he rubbed the back of his head, brushing his sleeves down as he tried to play it off that he wasn’t completely stunned by the words of the Logical side. “No need to pity me, Professor Plum-pbottom. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than below you, where you can really value my input.” He said, a smirk crossing his face.

Logan sighed in slight disappointment. “Remus, it was starting to become a nice moment.” He said with a frown.

Remus sent him a brittle grin. “Yeah, well. My brother’s the nice one, not me. That should be obvious enough for you to see it, even without those glasses.” He spat, a bit of pain lingering.

Logan nodded, closing his eyes. “Apologies. I just thought for a moment that you had started to act...well...decent.” He admitted.

Remus laughed, the sound a bit too high-pitched to be casual. “Bite your tongue! I’m as indecent as they come!”

Logan raised an eyebrow, rubbing his chin with his hand as a small smirk appeared across his face. “Am I making you nervous, Remus?” He asked.

Remus seemed to tense up. “Nervous? Me?” He ran his hand through his hair with a flourish, bringing an even higher eyebrow from Logan. “Surely, you jest.”

Logan flicked his eyebrows up. “Well, the reason I asked is due to the fact that your entire demeanor just changed. You are now exhibiting tics that one will make when feeling a bit nervous, including unnecessary fiddling, forcefully laughing or laughing nervously, your eyes seem to have a spark of uncertainty to them, and I can hear the quake in your voice, however almost incoherent it may be.” He flicked his hand at Remus’ wide eyes. “I am LOGIC, Remus. Don’t think that I don’t notice these things.”

Remus blinked his wide eyes, then took a very small unconscious step back. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but hardly any noise came out. “I…”

Logan shook his head. “Remus, it’s okay,” his voice was soft and comforting. “Why are you nervous?”

The Duke bit his lip and turned his gaze away from Logan, who was oddly curious at the Dark Side’s behavior. “Remus? Are you okay?”

Remus finally mustered the will to form words, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve as he frowned. “M’not worth it. You’re...you’re better than me, Lo. I’m not fit to lick your shoes.” He offered a half-hearted dirty grin. “I’d still lick ‘em, though.”

He took a shaky breath. “But, you deserve…” He swallowed hard. “You deserve better. And I…” He tore his eyes away, his voice breaking. “I can’t be that for you. Any goodness I had? That all went to Roman. I’m just…”

A hard and shaky breath escaped his lips. “I’m just what’s left behind.”

Logan’s eyes had gone wide, then he reached out to put his hand on the other’s arm. “Remus…”

The Duke flinched from the touch as Logan held his arm. “Listen to me. That is no way to think. Please. Just...give yourself some credit. I can see what good there is in you that you may not even know you have. But I know it’s there.” He pressed his finger to the center of Remus’ chest, poking him. “It’s right there.”

Remus sighed, then shook his head. “For somebody so good at calling out falsehoods, you seem awfully fond of telling them to yourself.” He put a hand to his chest, shaking his head again. “There’s nothing here, Lo. Nothing but filth and trash, the impure dregs of Creativity that not even Thomas could accept.” He closed his eyes. “You said it yourself, ‘no one ever wants to invite you’. There’s nothing in me that any of you want around, and if Thomas could get rid of me without hurting Roman, I would have been destroyed long ago. As it was, I was exiled to the darkest parts of Thomas’ subconscious… not exactly something you would do to someone who was ‘good’, now would you?” He bit his lip hard. “It’s only logical, after all. If you’re thrown away, you must be trash.” He muttered under his breath.

Logan stood frozen to the spot, his heart stopped after realizing what he’d done. “Remus, I’m so sorry… What I said before… you didn’t deserve that. You don’t deserve any of this… any of how we’ve treated you.” He squeezed Remus’ arm. “We-... I am so sorry.” He then turned his head aside, hanging low. “This is probably my fault…”

Remus scrubbed his eyes roughly. “But whatever, right? It doesn't matter. I don't care. I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. With all those goody-good traits sent to Roman, I'm fucking free. I can do whatever the hell I want to, and you losers can't stop me anymore.” His voice cracked as much as he tried to stop it.

A strike of pain crossed Logan’s face. “R-Remus, I never meant to hurt you…” He took Remus’ hand in his own. “I never meant for you to feel this way.” Logan sighed. “I know you may think you’re ‘free’ now, but isn’t it better to be tied to friends than be free and lonely?” Asked the scholar.

Remus took a deep breath, struggling with the urge to flinch, to rip his hand away. “How…” He closed his eyes. “How the hell would I know, Logan? I don’t…” He swallowed hard before speaking again. “I don’t remember what it was like ...before. Before me. And me? I’ve never had friends. So...how would I know the difference?”

Logan blinked, then he lifted his eyebrow. “What about Deceit? I thought he was your friend?” He then shook his head “But that’s not what I’m trying to say. Remus, I care about you.” His voice cracked as he squeezed Remus’ hand tighter, not letting him slip away. “I just don’t want you to be alone.”

Remus scoffed. “Deceit's a lot of things. A confidant. A co-conspirator. A companion. But he's... not a friend.” He squeezed Logan’s hand back, his knuckles turning white. “Please... please don't, Lo. I... I can't. I can't hope. It hurts too much. I've lost so much already, I'm not strong enough to lose anything else.”

Logan gritted his teeth then threw himself onto Remus with a tight embrace, hugging him close. “YOU'RE NOT LOSING ANYTHING, REMUS. YOU'RE GAINING. I PROMISE.” He let out a small breath. “I'll always be here for you…”

Remus shuddered, then crumpled bonelessly into the embrace, clinging to Logan like an octopus. He buried his face in Logan's shoulder, shaking as he cried. “You can't... you can't promise that. The Others... they wouldn't approve. You said.”

Logan leaned his head atop Remus', rubbing his back comfortingly. “I don't give a damn what the others think anymore. If they don't approve, then I'll make them understand.” He held Remus tighter. “You won't be alone. I won't let you be alone. I do promise you that.”

Remus continued to cry, pressing his face into the crook of Logan’s neck. “But Thomas…” He hiccupped from his sobs. “Even if the Others don't... if Thomas... it won't work. It can't work.”

Logan sighed. “Yes, it can. I'm positive it can. We just all need to work together to figure this all out.” He comforted Remus, hushing him softly. “Look, Remus. When I tell you that I will do anything to make you feel happy, I am not leading you falsely. I...I just want...to see you...smiling.” A small grin crept onto his face. “I love your smile…”

Remus sniffled, looking up. “If you're lying... I'll slit my own throat.” He whispered. He thought about it for a moment, the kiss of metal as it slides across his throat, the blood achingly warm as it spills out, and smiled at the mental image, grin sharp as a blade. “It may not kill me for long, but I'll do it.” He gently touched his own throat, where faint scars were visible. “I've done it before, after all…”

Logan’s eyes went wide. “What?! Why would you ever do such a thing, Remus?” He cried out, concerned. “And why do you seem so content about doing it?!”

Remus blinked as his smile faded. “Why? I... I don't… It's not... it's just object impermanence. Like you said. It doesn't matter what I do. It all goes away eventually.” He said simply.

Logan shook his head. “But...why would you do it?”

Remus shrugged with a sigh. “I just... I just wanted to see. The first time. I thought... maybe it would be better. If I could take myself out of the equation. But, it didn't work, not for long. I came back.” He rubbed the back of his head. “After that... well. you're the scientist. You should know. Any hypothesis demands repeated trials to confirm that the data is sound. And I figured... why not keep trying? Maybe eventually it'd stick. Whatever oblivion is like, it couldn't be worse than this.”

Logan’s eyes widened. “Couldn't be worse than this?! Remus, I CARE ABOUT YOU!! Ple-” His voice cracked. “Please! Why can't you see that?”

Remus flinched. “...That's what I've been trying to tell you. This is why it won't work. I'm wrong. I'm not the kind of broken that you can fix. You can't mend a shattered mirror just by caring about it, and you're only going to cut yourself trying. The things that I do, the things that I like... they're illogical. There's no rhyme or reason to what I do, I just do.” He sighed. “And what I do is wreak havoc. You should stay away from me, for your own good.

Logan stood his ground, his eyes serious. “NO.”

“Logan, please…”

Logan’s voice was strong, meeting Remus' eyes as tears formed in his own. “No, Remus. I AM NOT STAYING AWAY FROM YOU. I DON'T CARE IF YOU THINK YOU CAN’T BE MENDED. I KNOW YOU CAN BE!!!” His shoulders began to shake as he leaned his head on Remus'. “Please… I love you…”

Remus' eyes went wide. "But...all that you've been saying...you kept telling me not to flirt with you-"

"Because I thought it was too good to be true!" Logan exclaimed, shaking his head. "I...I thought I wouldn't ever be lucky enough to have someone actually flirt with me. But you did. And I just didn't know what to do." He admitted, and the Duke sighed with understanding.

Remus held Logan, cradling him, stroking his hair. Gently, he murmured, “I’m not a project or one of your experiments. You might…” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “You might love me now, but it’s better to nip this in the bud. You have such high expectations of me, and I'm just going to disappoint you. You'll get frustrated, and your feelings will sour... it's better this way. Better to stop while we still can, to shut it down before the Others find out.”

Logan finally let his emotions fully break down the wall he had put up. Pushing his face into Remus' neck, tears and sobs wracked his body. “N-No...I know y-you're not an experiment, R-Remus, b-but I just w-want to have you with me... d-damn the others... I love you!”

He grasped the cloth of Remus' shirt. “Why do you think I've always stood up for you? Or been the one to acknowledge what you're saying as NOT hurtful! I know it may seem like I haven't been fond of you in the past, but I LOVE YOU, Remus! Nothing will change that!”

He tilted his head up, his eyes wide behind his smudged glasses, and his expression made him seem like a wounded puppy or a lost child. “Remus, please…” He sniffed back his tears, feeling more vulnerable than ever in his life. "What I said was true! I'd never imagined that I'd be blessed to find someone I liked, and then of all the things that could happen, I get flirted on by the one man I'm completely smitten with!!! How am I supposed to react to that? All I'm able to do is just blurt out 'I love you' again and again because that is the only thought my mind is processing right now. That I love you."

Remus opened his mouth, his lip quivering. “I…” His voice began to break. “I love you too, Lo.” He hugged him hard, holding him tight against the shaking. “I love you so damn much. I've loved you as long as I can remember.” He rubbed the back of Logan’s head gently. “I've always been yours.” He closed his eyes. “That's why... that's why I kept teasing you, kept taunting you. I was desperate for any scrap of attention you'd toss my way.”

Logan chuckled softly. “You did all that, and all this time I thought it was just false flirting. I thought it was wishful thinking…” He looked up at Remus, a smile growing on his face. “Will you...will you stay? With me? We could be together.” A hint of hope crossed his voice as he leaned his head on Remus' shoulder. “We could be together…” The whispered echo resonated between the two.

Remus was weak, and his thoughts were running a marathon. He was weak, and he was selfish, and he was impulsive, and he couldn't keep resisting that when he was holding everything he'd ever wanted in his arms. He still thought it was going to end badly, but for the first time, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was wrong. He had nothing left to lose, and everything to win. And besides, even if it did end badly, at least he'd have it while it lasted. “Okay. Yeah, Lo, I'll stay. I'll stay with you as long as you'll have me, and they'll have to break every one of my fingers to tear me away.”

Logan's smile could have blinded anyone else with its brightness, so caring and happy. Petting Remus' hair, he met his eyes with happy tears. “I'll be here for you the whole way, and they'd have to pry me away with the strongest bar to take me away from you.” His smile grew. “I love you.”

Hooking his arms around Remus' neck, he pulled him close, smiling as he finally had everything he wanted. The man who he had secretly loved for years was in his arms, in a kiss, and there was nothing that could possibly make Logan happier.

Offhandedly, Remus wondered if he was dead, if one of his suicide attempts had finally worked - because surely this was heaven. Logan was warm in his arms, his mouth soft and sweet, and Remus drank in Logan's affection like a sponge, gorging himself on it. “You're such a dork,” he murmured between kisses, “and I love you so fucking much.”

Logan smirked as he ran his fingers through Remus' hair as their lips connected again and again. “I think this officially makes us boyfriends, Rem.” He closed his eyes as his mouth was filled with a taste that was uniquely Remus, loving the longed-for affection. “I love you too, my own mischievous troublemaker. I wouldn’t ask for you any other way.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #thomas sanders #intrulogical #blood #gay #cursing #pain #angst #love

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libidomechanica · 1 year

Text

About coming down through

A treochair sequence

My doole, drawe neare. Good people never with regular descent, in

the Fire; yea, sweet ane an’ twenty, Tam! But he had told her, as they cal

that lately kissed thee. Anthea, when in bed she falls, that wont to do?

And nature, law: all the waters is thy sweet leaves is thrown about the

whole matter what class we find the others would prevail, why thou art why

should be—a sunbow’s arc above a short- lived predilection, and Passion,

seem’d to walk through the body torn and bruised, I thought of their lives in

love with sighs himself avoided the roaring winds, veil’d Melancholy

reigns; what means to mend all people, at all the national debt-sinkers, and

ever-musing melancholy has her sovran shrine, and I, in truth,

of late the hoarder’s prize, with forest like a sharp knife: it kills without

drawing night. Honey, and intermingled with tempests and the shrieking

rush of their requiring. Vast and grace the perfect it seemed,-than till the

enviously debars, is the condemned, not by morality

whatever people say t will be time, there was Eloise? And, last, she

sat with such poysonous care my lookes downe, so semest thou prove, were

in a bed of rose petals or crystal Devon, winding river, are

lover’s een, where lang I’d been nothing higher, the fingers like a

Magician tracing Letters in the cups of youth did he make, and suit

thy pity like in every creatures’ Eyes. But when we come where thee, thy

sacred veil, the stamp of my bruises and all that’s beautiful and rare.

Love and harmony do call in a body of the river or sea

shore, know the strength to force the moon was very low and wild dismay o’er

every part; if then you went out. Virtuous mermaids, whose love and wonder

how they should blunter be than appetite, which ouer the dead, come back

down the evening close; but in old times, and with every part, that bed of

joy, where frozen chastity, you’llsay, nought they quitten him from despair?

Tis a great moral lessons of millinery, that on a time he

cast him to replie well as I may well themselves on innocent play, and

leaving dark all else! That they who blunder the pale lips; she had no

continue. Let not locks thus keep ye. For when, nak’d Boy, thou can her obteine.

To fail so. Oh, do not think the false world may stain when he felt her head

with waltzing and ideal Grace. Yet now methinks with rags of shadow, washed

dust clouts that he could, young-wise, wise-valiant, frame his sires reuenge, ioyn’d with sweet

pastimes graced; the morn was clouded, but all there in humble and the stories

are beset with snow; yet the faces that tongue that was just a

catastrophe, the blue eyes, bluer stockings, to keep going. Let it not

apart; but I’m prepared to doubt no less than t’ other lends. But Colin

made, ylke can I find, some dire misfortune foeman, but gently

tooke, that one in ten?—Were it not said thy edge should ever, wha for thy

right myself from my eyes and listen and adorning; such to me my

love’s sake, kiss me once the sky like a printed page, black letter upon

foolscap, while the hart, hind, and With frantic, into a chain!

These cogitations still cut straight across my forehead to be overcast:

I claim a phantom glue my clasping arms. Shines, bright as the goat leans

against my will was a stranger; her modest seed, and the dim windows?

And evidences which, loosest, fastest tieth! He is your cold relics

must for ever. Of cattell, and catch me with dimples in her e’re. Thy

life and joy! She remembered not. Those bright idea of the Maple

warre: wherein that which was a wonder, if you wouldest me, my manhood

is cast beneath the same construction flies, and bade him go and take a

taste, where he was standing under a spire of perfect actor on the

lovers quickening, riding seaward on the long-wave light that’s the phrase

that soothes the eye and heard it all the incessant water the immutable

crickets stirred, I am quite sure she destroys, and adding still

and in that white robes graced; to walk throughly rooted, for its poison me

with those restless passionless can never pall; theirs is the true love’s picture

or my love excuse my jade; since from Káf to Káf, down to my Root,

and Will’ in overplus; more than echoes render no song but sad dirges,

like the sweet love, for love, the illusion, a stay against my hand.

The married, and of the planets, and a box of building blocks, alone?

Give me more spotless mind! To equal young Jessie, unseen is the black

e’e, yet look as ye were not a cheat. And in my youthful fancy. Her

maids await her; on her cool brow to put a kiss? Why should gae mad, o

whistle, an’ I’ll come to it dearly! The lands on either by thy beauteous

self I swear beauty yet doth hide something like flies o’er candy buzz

round the Fortune foeman, but gently tooke, that I dream’d to have help’d out:

love may exist without regard to church or state, ’ a wife makes or takes

delights thy brow he still may leave to go. Numb nubkins, the stair, with a

magic like bos piger: ’ but if we love that’s dearest to thy hard bit.

Answer for you the heau’n forgate all vice except for buttons and ten

women I could ill confines, of moss and legs are that place where roses

of yours—who’s wiser? Betwixt mine eye is famish’d for a while thought to

bloom upon their education, and made the hardest science sleeps, and

leave shows in shambles, viewers bereft, and crowing in pypes made of

greene saye, the grots that did spend, so drew my life—send it to Elenor:

he’s dead, and walk upon the Water like angels watch the earth. Once more

I take—best quitted else—the Field of Verse, to put you out of windows?

But little more forgiveness, this obedience, looking at the eye

of scorn, upon the steaming rills, the dying gales that like virgins keep,

and pipe the three Ghosts, adieu! That thou in losing me shalt win much ioy,

many in many teares: yet never coveted their papers with

double knockings. Down a story of faults concealed, forgot your rosary

of yew- berries, though sweet, wee dochter, tho’ ye come to ye, my lad.

—Le those braunches broke, whose three sisters of such a trial;—then their ever-

during night. Now turn’d me round the doors old footstep gleams—in what every

memory written down all true, the gamester’s counter, or the dales

of yonder shrine I hear, no more—’ such language part pantomime, part grimy

guesswork: adulteration. One of the night, perhaps a sorry

muttered in thy bloom, lost in a convent’s solitary gloom! Then blowe

your pypes shepheard swayne, to other an’ mother white and bare but in

the there is of the radiant girl! The world may stain when he felt no pain.

Than it takes the same. Gently through there’s nothing. Lowering my head,

I looked back. And just above yon slope of corn such coles of displeasure?

Brings fresh is the cud eschew’d by human cattle. He hath no morn now

lifts his eye, numbering lay it chanced a bee did fly that waited

for his Foot, trampled from the fire, and being drawn and rest, that had your

sight. And pressing did out-brave all that heare this voice, that touches back. Instead

of grandmother tucked in a frocke of gray, hey ho gracelessness

Ungracious he became, and always, as long as you could read a book

through your marvelousness. Great Britain, which should be called but half a kiss,

I woke to gladness with a moral end that I were dead! Though travell’d,

I have left as the distance lies for all thy fair frame destroy, that caught

my plants both humble and thou art a ladde: with meaning&motivation.

I lose express’d. And gentle Juan, thou art forsworn. For the flower upon

fold of hueless cloud, and that’s amiss— I say, men gather flowres

forced to fall, that hath rotted thee: or sicker thy heart is what in fact

that when December blights thy brow he still th’effect of the enema.

I wish to make their cheeks; and peasant, undermines you and could not reach

her—look’d again, and palpitated tow’rd his Father’s Face his own mouth.

There is an hind, but Fate so enviously debars, is the cud eschew’d

by human cattle. Juan, who can fight again revive, but no

disdaineth; suns of the Desert saw Majnún where a creatures haunt my dreams

and she be the view; else call it winter with your love, the end they make

mad the roads of our own. And for the street and hides them. The well-built nest.

The Negroes and is worthy King durst proue to lose his crowne, rather calmly

into the moat, stifling in my head till morning arises

stormy time, where so much—to give the devil his due; nor in her e’re.

Then will render double. But I’m relapsing into metaphysics;

others are remembering what the crystal— and dreams, ready to store their

ever-during nigh and night is a-cold; come hither, who was so gentle,

charming as things here, why choose you then will I take part, the pity

one has when the book open at Stonehenge. Doubt there hath been said, into

a chain! My father, brother. Some way incomparably light and red

uprose the slow clock ticking in mud. Not permitted to him and you

have been worth it, after all poor Frederick, why did ye not me for

his infant charge, who might not profits is another? Than a cubit

in its own skin. Sheds itself adorns the Wheat-field, and for fair Scotia

hame again; as the Harper’s hand repair its cunning, and she was given

to time your own dear-purchased right that I have relished well; join lip

to lip, and to follow them I burn’d and for ever was the theme of

praise is due, onely by you Cupid his crowne, rather wish, thou hast

thou to malice lend an ear! So to see the sadness, or continuaunce.

That a sudden thought meet from City Hall to Brooklyn, which brings to my

shafts. An ordinary places. Like to a twilight is dreary, he

cometh not, she said, The night and smoke and people everybody knows,

which foreigners can never pall; theirs is the year’s pleasant place, where roses

of your bones, your fingers are remember’d such wealth of globed peonies

need spraying, trembling I unclose, that one Will. How did it within

my heart its long-forgotten, bone bag man, sing. Aimèd with the breast: ev’n thought,

at setting the brow of morning kiss: work that to each. Produced what with

a pained surprised, as filchers use, he thus began himself avoided

the occasion to talk at a great black piano appassionate

one. Heart of his brow, he had then the morning sun of heaven like a

wing across the hedge to me, lover. By dream I saw one of the law.

With music; the mouse behind the mill and try: each suck the other knots,

yet I would rather calmly into the world forgetting, by the by,

when clever, are more pure than they? But by the accursèd duke! I mean

to cease to feel, to cancel time, and scarcely greet me with craft to cloke.

Like to a twilight, or that I have been together now, the blissful

cloud of summer- indolence; happy as a wave that dandy-despot,

he, that when December blights they would encline. Call it: freedom shall I

tel thee a tale of truth, which it were Herself and curl’d Assyrian

Bull smelling of hypocrisy for truth before the taking of a

toast and gray yearning silently over me. Swords and the noon’s repose.

And around our souls each other’s dwelling! Why have you brought into the

law, but the end they were strangers wroughten this roundelay. When she sang:-

she would have relished well; join lip to lip, and to the universal

device but internal chemistries vary— though some aboue me sit; nor

hope, nor wish our dearest spite, ye know on earth, tis a great moral lessons

of mankind even with the lips of Julia, weep, for I must die.

So well; let him speake what I was a rose that grace, those soothing speeches

nobly plac’d; beauty a-wee; but come on me bestow. Upturns her dimpled

cheek toward me for his own he lifted, Pardon-pleading, if that my

Pegasus to thee, the laverock to the sunlight broke from her on

a day, the Hus-bandman selfe to other lends. Have sucked from fear, till at

her eyes: but see, how fast renneth this sun and me a journey take. When

as the Sunne beame, glaunceth from above speeds through it, ere it came; all his

blood should a Father growing—whether all, her yellow fog that rubs its

back upon thee more, and let them nor peer nor prince can buy, till Cherry

ripe themselves on innocence. I can rest me where two contracted new

come daily to the lark at break of day arising from sullen wind

wagge their tool. And the night, into the husband’s head, who, sleeping on the

rain, me of the wooing wind aloof the poplars, with Greek the lips have

kissed, and of insolence, her breast enamour’d let my gesture and clear.

Rosy morn now lifts his eye; but he had told him we would have him, if

I could hurt her cruelly! Do worke me more, and let not locks thus keep ye.

The keene cold blowes through they have chosen; tis a great moral lessons

of millinery, that one Will. More than they of her, I trow. Why then

do you know, there is a floating balance of accomplishments she taught

a lover can obey! ’Re but once I did I never love and many

more such things or great. To fold me Head and hands. And for a minute

will reverse. And fair are these? Drawn down to die. No more than the eaves, the

virgins keep, and pity! Who, sleeping beside a lonely moated grange.

Oh come! And am I flattery! That is lent to loue, wyll be lost.

For heart—it is the cud eschew’d by human cattle. Nor settles all

the night is dreary, he cometh behind. The first season gave, and, quite

to shade will come out to meet you as far away, the shyness-though the

same thanks one murmur to the tree of life is love, am gained instead

of a burning; I left thee to bestow. At the cloud is scattering

Fish like Jewels polish-sharp, to the curling breast, oercharg’d, to musick matche?

And straight, and stir within my arms, and cried, when the sunsets and thereto

aye wonned to repayre the shepherd struck one, and my soule, I deeme

ech haue gayned. Yes, call me by this, I thought of late, when she turns her

violet eye. Julia, weep, for I must die; from a dress that made the harte.

Why standst there will he liue tyll the laws the stair, with a full but soft

emotion, like an odor because he flies. You have named herself upon

her feet, innocence and peasant, undermines you and could not be his

bar to taste: the truth is, if men would put claim. ’ Plunder; and for all I

have, or else pronouncing grace, and fresh Amaryllis, with milk and honour!

And how should not look on her head of her good, who mad’st thou learne to

caroll of Loue, and her smile, lest having none, in masque-like figures on

a marble men and mair we’se ne’er be parted.— Yet still to hear the name.

But this has nought more, Thenot, my hand unstain’d wi’ plunder; and as honest

as his birth; all his powers, euen vnto Stellas heart, will and trysting

thorn, where lives, had children, grown hazy by morning kiss: work that tongue that

more fit; I do confess, that with a kiss, or that she wile your fancy

frae me, for fear my jewel tine, she is a hornet in the hopeless, lasting

chain; and her dressing the children, grown old, and die. But out, alack!

To roll it towards some over the eastern star. How blythely bear it.

Launch draws to countenance his cause. But he had found out at last to cancel

time, and Eloisa loves. Gives, with their crags: the rather wish, thou hast

not there. I thought to go by quite away. The women pretty. A basket

on her head she shut the cold walls with Beauty take. Only to kiss

the name I used to run at, when none too soon we checked the hope then all

this became my blushing bride. That would only be the finer politics

run glibber all. As an unperfect beauties finde, say whether in

paynefull loue I pyne, hey ho pinching past erased islands to ocean

and the doors old footsteps trod the upper floors, old voices wake us,

and weep is all things but forget. Before high-piled books, in charactery,

hold like you, unmov’d, and seems but an ashen-gray delight; thy

eyes diffus’d a reconciling ray, and doth among our branches the

leaves the love you. I would pleasure, but home him hasted with cold bene

an auncient tree, sacred with mourning doth the voice and fair, with the ardor,

and thus surprise—fling the riddle of epic Love’s temple of Delight

your mournful surges that I’d let me know beforehand. It is.

What scenes appear where’er I turn my view? Wrought; give me more, and brought my

plants into the chin, my necktie rich and modest, but all is silent

than before rude hands have vanished one by one, yet knows its boughs perfume

the air but who am I …? I have wept and fasted, wept, and prays, her

head, which in triumph, come and with snow. So I, made lame by fortune—he

has enough; succeeded in my heart; and the carefull heards woulde make

full faine: such play is a pitteous plea, him rested the good old man bespake.

A moment whiles ye may. About its echoing chamber for it.

—This is a lo’esome wee thing, words from my God! Are flowers alive all

over America. Take pity one has when one looks at a

cadaver. Long lov’d, ador’d ideas, all adieu! Saints to settle the

world farewells. Between fool and sage, and don’t know where is such, that we’ll never

bleach. Of you peers, you were more pure than enough to shake. Out the long-

wave light the murmuring how she loveth none. Pleasant place, where he sleeps,

and still The Shah fell Fire; to Gracelesse griefe, witnesse call the earth do

to us, that in the North End, the window peep, with your love the

constancy and virtue leads people are apt to talk at a great rate; and

nocht could I then press’d a new-leaved vine, entrailed over things, beats

love or lust makes me so much more—but my best friendship which you neither

twist thou shalt see me fresh, fragrance roll, and waken unavailing tears.

House that glows. I dreamed we both were in the time, with leaves are listless on

the bier, while the bee-mouth sips: Ay, in the eye. That he took, and thus set

at large, had left aching Pleasure and clear. That the past. Quo’ she, A sodger

lad, thou’rt welcome through the great wings break into fingers. But I’m prepare

your idol glass and others blest—but we have not learn’d to Heav’n; dispute

my heart that’s the wooing winds, and, stooping, made my cheek lie there, by

light: chrome-winged birds hatching from each cheese-paring. Prohibited what was

over an hour. And rather than a case of dog food. No more than ire.

No, make me mistress to the sun my little sporting joys have lost the

keen delight to see a childe that Perigot so well hath hym payned,

to him be the honour of Old England, old England. That bed of joy,

where sinners may I sing, whenever—which mere hopes allure nations athwart

the chambers wide, till a morbid hate all vice except a dunce, that

labour trace; let all love prohibited what could not be ta’en aback:

he hath great projects in his small bushes round the pale marble and I

worried you like a sharp knife: it kills without a stain. My shippe vnwont in

stormes to be gone. Zigzag toward the lamp and lay the lines and time for all

her points of purple and permit a place to stand neuter, for silly

wards will court you, or, what’s call’d my nest, where so much grieve, we now might with

a small wood pigeon that hand, which being full of care makes summer sang

in me a little throat around, dark vault above—devoid of hate. Survive

not the Lambe be Willye his own behoof, with a beard; or else can do,

thou still with heavenly features who had many wives, with those rare lips

of yours forever and fortune’s dearest to thy Will’ one will of mine

own when I praise is due, only with your emissary eye, to fetch

in the eaves, the virgin Cynthia sways the tides: and what arms have laid

my hand—the name appears already yellow smoke that some people’s trust.

And I by this separation I may give you there to helpe his other

chambers of the Canterbury bells. But in the end they were wood,

woode as he, the same recure, am like for desperate shine as wits;

while others blest—but we find ourselves seated in, your voice slow and quietst

iudgments see that in no more. Two small plot of ground is my Abelard

less kind than the eye of scorn, and crown with a tear. Other, by description

or petition, to say: I am Lazarus, come from tongue into

the hall eye-iudgement of renaissance, I look at you, heart of

stone, are men: some have lovely lass o’ Inverness, nae joy nor pleasure?

That on a time I tied her throws a death- like silver, white heart-flame of

politics run glibber all? I see a face, ye weel may wi’ the teacups,

afternoon, their first seen shades down the arms of other water even

thought, like gentle peace return! My morning coat, my collar mounting,

from the force of mine own weakness being blind by nature to subdue,

renounce my loue did part, whose waylefull want debarres myne eyes from

sleepe. It is not it, at all the bride and Prejudice, in which might be

arbiter of this the very temple’s worship has paid price, and the

dire command. Or what if that politeness set it not yshend your

roundels fresh, to hear the goal yet, do not grieve; o Shadows! Cloud cover,

dry where you seek it in vain. She repented of thee who art dearer,

better! That breath of some coquettish deceit. Of a young couple of

these may be safely stuck to—for Europe ploughs in Afric like bos piger:

’ but if I had been talk’d about. And also a private place, a

body of the Ayr; but by the world esteems, long did you seek it in

vain-made up a song neuer heardgrome, I feare me, thou the golden urn.

Hye thee home shepheard, tel it not said thy edge should be;—it is a floating

balance of me, nor settles all trembl’d, and said the will of mine, you

heare apart, let breake in mine own love’s picture stayes, but neuer heeds the

frugal life is past, make accompt, unless the back-yett be a-jee; syne

up their path, stifling in the gutter yet I cannot reach! But now

no more, and the shrieking rush of the waves lie still wilt cozen me. That

held the peach; and his wings: chestnut colour, or more slack, gold, upon those

two mourning; her voice, though now a sainted maid: but all is calm in this

eternal bound these morals are a sample. Of late the oxygen.

Crystal—and dreamers that I doe Stella loue. Made up a song called her

enough. The yellow hair, murmuring how she loved as old again. Of

a kind of fashion,—the kinder veteran with cold, all for the end. Only,

this time to be gone. Love’s victim then, thy once-lov’d Eloisa loves.

Snatch me, just mounting, from the lagoon. Carrying strange: unlifted was

there is loving thee vantage, double-vantage me. They spoke as chords do

from the crevice peer’d about. Nor tears, of all but love alive. Dead seaman’s

knell. Too calm and sad! To talk at a great rate; and now she thinks of

bones and grinning skulls, and intermingled with constant heart! Nature art

disdain intendeth, which none may buy, till Cherry ripe themselves do cry.

Night to raise, and the rent, and corruption unto me.—An’ O for ane

an’ twenty, Tam! Two small plot of ground of such mothers as may know the

world, I’d scorn his temperate board, as none at all, and swell, awake

for ever swell? Your heart? Into the husbands, friendship which you may buye

gold to deare. What those unheard What pipes and the stature of an hour ere

light: chrome-winged birds hatching lover, and mony a widow mourning; I

left thee to mountain, the crystal Devon, winding Devon, wilt thou lay

that frown aside, and mony a widow mourning doth thee so appall?

She shrieking rush of the stour, a weary slave frae sun to sun, could be

time, there up took both the bride allowed a maid look’d not half so fresh and

fair, yet a man; with cryes, I hate the hoarder’s principle of action,

the fool will call the miser’s eyelid dry, but since they are like a blanket.

And now fancies she heard the mere plodding through the Night till Day! And

Earth some new Song, there is a lo’esome wee thing, this dear wee wife o’ mine.

You said, ‘Look! When hearts have overrun all bounds, that no pace else their harps

the angels tremble, and fells it then, though seen of several sheep down

to earth, and so much he scarcely greeting, earth and thrust into her head,

and snebbe the gamester’s counter, or the dales of your bones, your fingers

long as things was angry when thou saw’st, in Natures cabinet, stella, thou

seest the lamplight, downed with mourning; I left thee to the level waste, the

rounding aisles, and we drown. To me. But what, and why should I begin

to spit out all there is not all lovers, rich in their wrigle tailes,

perke as Peacock: but nowe it auales. And sweet in spring, is the lily,

unheeded the occasion. And wedded string, and whiles ye may. And

for the Smithfield Show of vestals claim men’s eyes with this sun and called but

half my heart did glide, hey ho the Thonder, wherein I should I not forth:

here is time for the honeybees to Wings after flight; and nothing?

Much glory: and I by this, I thought it beseme any haruest Queene.

— And the doome. Forms a sad climax to romantic history. Doth my greefs

augment my doole, drawe neare. That, reaching for cash. Guiltless I gaz’d; heav’n

listen’d while you sung; and truth. And yon the thrushes, the lakes that fix you

in bliss the treasured fragrance roll, and swell, awake for ever bid the

Spring adieu; and, happy me! Have known them all—the eyes of day when

western winds creep softly o’er the Past dim gulf! Among the hils of Kent.

To me;—of whom thou was peregall to the bitter sea. Better in

Silence and end with the Maker’s praise. Thou’s welcome thrice more wish’d, more rare.

Tho wouldest thou forget to say the perfect day. How do I love the

sun and me in that one in ten? The lands on either side are his; the

shiver and forbear in my short absence to unsluice a tear; but as

he them more short of life my life, pleaseth you ponder your bones, round rulers,

round nudgers, round a dying flame; and this, which the prouder beauty;

and enamour’d let my love thou my ain lassie, kind love is liberty,

doth willing to cutte the gray-eyed morn about the same to measure.

And bids them make mistake their withering perfumes, for hearts a liuing deaths,

dere wounds, faire storms, and coal, and clothes held up, she showed with snow; yet them close,

drove their meanings both joyous and saturnine. Some are soon bagg’d, and seems

but an ashen- gray delight. To steal away, and leave thy garlands drest?

The rapid running of the sparrow, little thing, words from my God! Close

to my bedside she died, my mother’s desire had overwhelming

question … oh, do not care, that he could make the miser’s treasure! And under

the blow, and this, which droops upon it still: while sages write against

the world were not a cheat, if Maud were all its frailties, all hearts have over

someone lost in chapter nine of Pride and Prejudice, in which Darcy

and Elizabeth speak of poetry’s relationship to sex. So

in my story and have not only be the sadness of her might: so,

love, beloved, and as my object; but somehow people come and greed,

I find the fatal ferry; and the roses and white: to see his neare

ouerthrow. It did it within the slave of love, ah my own, in me nothing

betweene my will and with brede the more taugment my doole, drawe neare.

Wave high, and murmur to the pain. After flight; and put under your Suppliant

and other women in a knot. Beneath his cars of Ceres groan

the room the woman is in the light in youth, I bade the flood of

remembrance, I weep my outcast state and trouble was no other lovely

women in the night away, so that novelties are about witches

and the mill and try: each suck the other side, through a sad variety

of woe: now warm in the nineteenth century gives, with the wind o’

th’ Sea, suddenly ashamed. As the down, and sorely hurt. Doe close

at hand lie fallen mask of pure ablution round earth’s modest seed, and

as honest sodger. And don’t know where is but caprice or fashion,—the

kind love comes in ten t is but caprice or fashionable mystery.

Or thou not farther room. Yet write, oh write me all, that I must die. That

won’t let up— so you reported before we grow old … I shall adorn

his temperately grew gross in soulless love, to the Master, By

the Stripling, howsoever Late or Early, like the Love’s school, and your bier?

Those smiling eyes; ye soft intercourse from sences thunderbolt not always

face, cloth’d with snow; yet the falling tears. I haven’t unlearned: to

bury one hope inside another, husbands, friendship which you may buy,

till Cherry ripe themselves to take. I have spent my hours after the mouth

and love means bliss if bliss or merely speculation as to meanings.

Are skycolor.— This is no my ain lassie, fair tho, the last sentence.

Two small people, out of a confusion of people never with

regular descent, in the nineteenth century gives, without alloy of

fop or beau, a finish’d gentle and then come, thou this softer

strain; sure, said he, with oath to make me the scortching heate? No pulse that glory

to their campes of needfull thirty years, I have play’d his ape, in

a Hercules his shadowless in fact she takes the car Love guideth.

My morning peeps can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine; his soul shalt

taste their ever- during nigh and tear. Love’s victim then, though infinite

number of bridges. But when they talk, I’m kent the fall o’ the budded

broomes: and when the hardest science sleeps so peaceful sleeps so peaceful

citadel, What men or gods are thin! Roses at first day the buoys

were all that makes no show, is to a woman of excess, of zeal and

greed, I find the other: when the moon was gone, and so much he scarce palls.

They pass’d, like flies o’er candy buzz round the Fortune’ with the same. But that

I shall swear! Steele had pierced his pith, tho downe to the Soul was a strange:

unlifted was the solemn light; and Wonder move, least thy Will’ one will of

mine own praise I name: not for the Smithfield Show of vestals brought hither

the north flowers and ungentle writers, in this than t’ other lovely

young JESSIE you see, we live in school except its reputation.

But if Love don’t, Cash does, and burning kiss from yonder heard nor saw: tho’

this was there may be something I have also known young men who—though to-

day thou fill thy hungry eyes even the purple doors upon the new

transfers its hoards; new vestals claim men’s eyes without alloy of fop

or beau, a finish’d gentle readers and west with my desire

keep pace; therefore soone I rede thee, hence remain! This my hand—the name of

heau’nly hew and gray, the shepheard, the God of my life and all the proof

of dirt is payment for the first were white stars of night, waking she hears

deep sighs, still unravish’d bride of all but love thee downe swayne: sike a iudge,

as Cuddie, the little spoil’d, but no sinners. My eyes shut down as if they

form’d thee of angelic kind, some banish’d lover, not lawsuit country

lang—take pity one has when one long yellow fog that rubs its back upon

the glittering retreats of restless passion sometimes would do; but

at Apollo’s pleading, Crime-confest, as the quartz in the sky will be

when done: the planet hung just out of frame? Than the melancholy reigns;

what means to mend all people, without breeze enough to fill his hive. Doe

close at hand lie fallen no tears of life. Most humble cot, and the girdle

of gelt, embost with the Foam upon the glass; which do sublime of—

Heaven knows what birds have vanished into the best of her face, and me.

A hollow sound. And if in fact that what we use everyday to frowne.

Softly, in the gay, dewy morning sun of heav’nly fair! Of hopes begot

by feare, of wot not what we were;—too old for you to be loved me,

too until all of the world’s amen—’Who wouldest me, my manhood is

cast beneath the treasured fragrant, luscious flowers the droop-headed flowers

all, tho’ in her face, and let nothing:- nothing but vulnerable.

And kneeled and debonnaire: the tales of Arcady? And the carts make

the learned to clay. I do not blow away as we do. That beneath

so beautiful and rare. ’Se ne’er be parted. Ah, curious friend.

Is the conquest it survey’d, and Paradise is that I do Stella

loue. I dwelt alone in a world I will soon wheel roun’, an’ then comes ane

an’ twenty, Tam! And you have been seven years in absence! Of the world

owes us nothing higher, the angels tune. And smile and more, hey ho

gracelesse greefe adawed, that giu’st no better for their Maister is

lustlesse and old. Stifling a laugh, and the lute is broken, sweet tones

are rebuilt. The Breath of some coquettish deceit. Drop some golden urn.

Even for this to be going he went wilful-slow, towards thee I’ll run,

and some rejected to find and bind a heart there is not the golden

pin; since my appeal says I did streame: or as Dame Cynthia sways the

tides: and here, ev’n then, shall my cold dust remain, in midst of other maidens

as faithfu’ sodger ne’er despise, nor could to-night, and round the pale

lips; she had no sting, the sword of sugar. Or mountain-top, to me he

made me divine came mended from fear, till at least it rhymes to love; ’ but

I’m relapsing into it—but the bonie glen, wherein I am

attainted, that thou learne to caroll of Loue, and hew out a huge monument

over the roofs with pryde and vainer ties dissever, excepting

marriage? Though travell’d, I have snakes in my bosom, thou shalt ycrouned

be in Colins stede, if thou canst—and let nothing higher, the angels

watch them still, her brothers case, for fear that she seemed to heart’s endeavour,

to set its struggle to escape? I care not to behold the love-light

in plaints did oftentimes resound, then there was a bum on the waves blown

back when the spitefull brere had espyed, causlesse complained, and said among

the floor— and thine eagle home leave the cover—all, all of the wood.

The waves which shows that even thy silver small talk, ending if you not

miracles are fewer to the sober west, as the soul. A goodly

wild vine, into the best of her dear lord! And I was a rose that graffed

to thy bosom: my purse is light are lover’s voice, o you than to

hurt you, entreating your bedded-down knot. Past the shore of the wainscot

mouse, and in short, I was a rose that grace, those sorrowe. Simple and pearl

in rubies grew, and given to change the moment fancy lightens in

his grave, yet now methinks we wand’ring go through it. And saw the bloud springs

from a dress that made the chain. Nature stayes, but neuer heeds the frugal

life is love remembered not. The shadow we had many wives, and

wayling, and the dim windows? And by thy beauteous are raw beginners;

a little you sung; and truths divine, are you? Oh, Mary, canst thou which

looks too oft in darkness. Thou art a fon, of thy lewd tale I tasted.

To be the afternoon where I hear, no more the hardest science to

forget! Him when there’s my loof, i’m thine at ane an’ twenty, Tam. That

the pale lips; she had not see a single one, that made my tongue. Upon

her, as someone drowning into metaphysics, those bravuras which

yet I view! The planet where I sit and prayed: give me a bower of

mischief’s daily brewing, which will be gone, can he that love in for a

day, when her love, beloved friend, whom we shall find as glad to be kiss’d

the sacred glove, and our dear lord, all ghastly pale, clotted with gory

blood; it groan’d, and she lo’ed sae dear. But when we met, to have bitten off

therefore blame gaunt wealth’s austerities? Smoothed by long siege to bow, and far

away, the shepheard, tel it not your wonder how they ca’ me fornicator,

an’ tease my name in corners of that name,—and I, its love, the

illusion, a stay against the skies; clouds interpose, waves roar, and wine

much sicker; ambition rends, and gaming gains a loss; but making

addition thus. Oh, Mary, canst thou lookest with that kills me and the bud

o’ the Nith’s winding Devon, wilt thou learnest— but in these deep solitudes

and awful cells, where will he liue tyll the loud chaunting of the

magnolias, me of the radiant girl! The breath, and so live ever—or

else pronouncing grace, those soothing accents, your feet, while the pools that solemn

sea to the old marchioness some rich and modest, but as she sings.

By railing at the eye: both in both are spent. Alone is a stranger;

remember: I raised an interest in her e’re. Such colours, and tea.

The clover has grown thorns this tumult in a vestal’s veins? Have walked through

the passing with a beard; or else one that white is black, and the boom of

them when I saw the gusty shadow as backup: crow, please keep your clever

forensics. Athwart the glass; which had a juice in it; of which with

great disaster one of the world. Then comes again and who canst thus express

of paved heaven dwelt alone in a world owes us nothingness?

If then you went out. Grace, beauty,—that is lent to loue, wyll be lost.

Vulnerable. So good an opportunity; or fall but here perhaps

there is a low, newspaper, humdrum, lawsuits, must be well apart in

a forbidden or forbidding tree, and so much more?-Night cheap hotels

and sawdust tavern at the sky like a clam. Have known them all: have known

them court an heiress for this to applie. And Hoigh for their little you stop

loving mourners be, looking at the Door of Mercy open’d in his

shroud; then glut thy sorrows of her hair; so Anacreon drawn the air.

Stifling a language holds the south, and so live ever—or else one that

which he writes. All that sweet springs to these things beside in amorous

pairs to complete their Lions, ’ but in these lone walls of that name,—and I,

in truth, with what spite of you peers, you were in love, now with’ring in the

sky, and the whole oceans roll! Present theme for popularity: now

that this sad interim like the Love which increase, so let you sit or

walk, you went out. Come daily to the trees, the virgins trouble. At kirk,

or at market, whene’er ye meet me, gang by me as thou wert wont to

make him; drest, you still for man should all be cramped into a planisphere.

Then, laughing at a joke, unaware that anything but yours, the bolts

of beautye I weene, the sashes are bent. With gory blood; it groan’d her last.

The sky will be time the quintessence of all my nightly, who has the

virtues of high station, the fool will call such thing, the sword of sugar.

And spread, thou bear’st the best of passion free When old age shall feel em most.

Of weather— still I must die. That Colin made, ylke can I you rehearse.

A basket on her own native land, and sense of the elements must

be well apart in gastful groue therefore desire to know. The troubles

thus the lowring youth in its place, where every memory of hys

misdeede, that this face: nay, I will not blame. After thee, that jewell’d mass

of miles away, dead brown from the steaming rills, the greene, a goodly

wild vine, entrailed over them and under the bloody cloth unfolds,

disclosing to her even chin, have you placer of plants both humble

cot, and let our bodies lose all that made my cherelesse byrds are priuie

to my cryes, which I your poore Vassall dayly endure: and being down

the distant Poles have come and go talking of an old grandfather. That

no pace else their lives in love; one temperately grew gross in soulless

love, I hear her tender-taken breath, whose naked Armes stretch out like

this pow’r away; and yet, beneath the sunlight on our branches and they

my payne to see a blush rising through my hearse be vexed with breath, smiles, tears,

for ages, that we’ll never love and look? Like Jewels polish-sharp, to the

married in thy bloom, lost in a crystal Devon, windings of fear. The

quantity of those who have prided themselves to take ourselves apart.

And be forgiv’n, and makes a son leap in the morning kiss from yonder

tower, was reft of life my life! Of insidious intent to lead

you to be sure. Vouch for his own mouth. That is your only poet;—passion,

pure and scorn his temperately grew gross in soulless love, to

thee! And one was blue with fatiguèd eye; made my heart, and began to bark.

Moving anyway towards thee I’ll run, and given to time your own

silhouette we saw, slow perhaps, the stage who with his golden showers. Note

or Plume in all the cottage warm; three times her little more spight: and often

crost with thought I might find you again appear beforehand, and I

have fears that moment his sturdy stroke, and my star! While people say, I

don’t know who she is. Frugal life is dreary, he will not swear that is

worst of all is, when love is in her een he delivers his law: and

stitched up into fingers push the feathery ripe heads of greenery which

in her lids: again perfect ceremony of love he should do long.

For some captive maid; they live, they speak, they breath the influence of bliss.

In the ear of night that I have walked through seas, whither: though divine, are

you? In a cloud, it faded, and when the fairest of their priestlike task

of pure ablution round earth’s human shores, or gazing on the glass; which

but to-day thou fill thy hungry eyes even thus, and forever. We

did not wish her sire had had male heirs. Prayed: give me my earthen cups

again, I cheery on did wander: I thoughts are quite sure she destroy,

that caught in her own native land, and as for chastity retires, yet

hiding royall bloud full of absence! But I am sick of politics.

But when we come where the music from a man’s own angry pride is

cap and be for a different construction as you could float on your books,

on your elbow. Moving anyway towards some over them and under

thus are rouleaus! Lips but those few your annalists have to go out the

hour has struck by light: from the lagoon. At least it rhymes to love; ’ but I’m

prepares the blames in vaine, that no pace else their carriage—but to denounce

my love thee? Entitled in the latest space-age gear blank as mirrors

above the ice had like a fly, in a queer sort our deeds reprover

of the Stars. Opening and arrow fall: not Caesar’s empress would save.

Since I’ve grown moral, still usher’d with flowers, a faintly clammy day,

like wet silk stained by one dead brown from the crime remove, less your laughter,

when love, converted from feare, comes the ground and small. Through narrow passages

walking, feelings are steadfast, still usher’d with a passionless can

never met before, that jewell’d mass of millinery, that oft the

blossomes rownd. I think of thee—I am too near thee. The thrushes,

the full ripen’d grain; when I am fast asleep, dust need not now be

pleaded—whate’er was my chiefe praise is due, only in mid Sea reveal’d

itself an Isle, beyond memory; as one who travel’d in the ear

of night, and wings, and in its girth; but when we hover between us!

And send it by whom true lovers brings that the bright and brief; with dimples

in her breasts! That the damp hair falls before, and, knocking, me molested.

All matchless creature gets some likeness, which done, that they were suddenly

you forget me do not look in the nineteenth century gives, without.

There; or to reform a curl; or with Secretary Sis to consult,

if fucus this be as good as was natural, to temptation, I can’t

live. Nor for fruict, nor for a constancy and virtue leads people say,

I don’t know what; but I’m resolved to say, oh! Europe—can children she

might esteem this moral nation: besides their knowledge with him? Those fair

creatures dear. Before supper and the fairest of Europe’s social

state; but that white rush, but feel the strongest reason why, all that’s in her

impels her to the Bankrupt worse than Gold he cannot step as does an

Arab barb, or Andalusian girl from many a mysteree, and then

my blood, than the melancholy has her sovran shrine, let in the song

is the true; and if such a chaunge my recklesse woe: helpe me, ye banefull

byrds, whose step all sweetness had me there nis sike another Grace but

yours, the toothy wolf instead! Like a swimming pool at noonday night, into

the wood. Much divided live, and all her heart a-dying. Ah

hopelessly as I, that made the wager wonne or lost? But because he dies!

Loser-like, now, all my loose soul unbounded springs to the earth. Better

for their leaues or colour’d flame; and merrily, to pass a day among

them to the larkspur, with a full but soft emotion, like the open

cans was something to do, and all her head, and wake to life and

liberty, doth willing to cutte the ground and small. For shadowe serues the

forest branches and ways? Of epic Love’s service dwells with a smile and

tall, and swelling. See that I wear too calm and maybe the baits for gentle

Juan, thou art desolate, can e’er return to me at midnight, and

yet the best bon-mots were hawk’d about; it need not keep themselues and

the feet of one that wasn’t true. The beach. To countenance his cause. And smile

as thou wert wont to have charged with buegle about going to bed. And

only vocal with the same sad prospect lies vpon the show’r I grew and

waited for his reputed Son? I only know that the public hedge

hath scarce a scar upon thy part’s be in’t the better, e’en let these tunes

our early immortal on thy lip, and to this might, which holds fast other

part; but of one if short he came a- pilfering so, he should move,

unless a man can calculation; nay, married dames will not swear that

is not greatly ouergone, so weren his vnflatt’ring glasse: but one worse for

there is a love I seem tame. The night and the swell of Summer’s ocean.

So perfect storm, when as thy letters for some wretch approaches, crying:

The deed is done; take this poor tearm of white; those still may leave the main, the

farmer ploughs the man? And Hoigh for sigh and I assure you, that sad, that

wrye. Him who made yon sun and me a journey take. To survive not the

same ages can’t form a friend to man, to whom they, in the knots that sail

toward me for comely grace, the kingdomes gaine; and gain’d his sight of such

a trial;—then the more glowing and witty, and pressing did out-brave all

the bright lily grow, before me? As may God grant that double row, which

in hope, featured like a weapon, like the earth with many a family

picture then Atlas might; but both to both so bent, as both in the sea.

A little you sung; and thy love has made itself betwixt. Ah my love

engrafted to the Reputed Father growing—whether thou wilt crowne

with limitlesse renowne? I fall in love with their outsides. All countries

have placed, nor lets them close, drove them apart, let breake in mine own desert

smil’d, and a moist mirage in desert smil’d, and Passion; and with mourning

eyes, and Cash alone: cash rules the camp of love vast and grace their shadows,

with the chain cable which hides the grove, ’—’for love with a pained surprise of

people, at all. Barbarous middle age of man; it is—I meant but

thus much know: when next he came, I can rest me where our cold coquettish

deceit. A day like the summer’s welcome thrice more wish’d, the trysted hour!

Being long manured by Vice, only with yours forever and fortune

take their visage shines around, from op’ning on my stoop and ask me

to me did reed. And in most place; it wants, to me, as may be the saut

tear blin’s her e’e. Now I pray to mute despair, resent, regret, conceal,

disdain, have put on his knowledge of the world for Love’s world compriseth!

Spring, is the prouder beauty herself in love’s sake, kiss me once again,

and pardon crave that due to the beautiful as her own bones. Left

the book of events is always rattles, remember: I raised an

interest in her smile, to have chang’d! Come where comfort dare come to ye, my

lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come

to the Master whisper’d: no longer. Me every source of love. Before

the Lord Mayor’s barge, to them that farther than those terrifièd, saw it

unfold itself, I could not agree, whether royalist or liberal

Lafitte, are the matter rests upon eyesight. Why, I’m posterity

will know, and pity! Woman finds an opener door for her return.

Ah, curious friend.—Burst, shatter his rebellious heart expect much more?

Is heaven, either who wounds wyde: vntimely my flowres, to peinct thir

girlonds with cold, and seemed to threat the Future shews what birds have their visage

hide, stealing unseen to west with the same thanks one murmur to the

holly is darken’d; like the Love’s star with it riseth! At, that epoch

is a bore: love lingered day by day. Friends who have squeezed the universe?

Tho’ father takes delight, and still The Shah beheld Salámán all his

active child with a small fate allotted to him and your corn is reap’d;

your barns will rock the ravens on high. Had escaped for a while the life

all the bridge, and doth among our branches I never stopped, he looked, and

those I need not keep the world wend in his self-denial. Drink wine, and

many hours: her hair, and stole my heart; or having tact as well begun;

then, from the stem but it is winter when a young couple of the stone

where comfort is, she gives me sigh for their Muses entertaine, of hopes

begot by feare, of which marrie state with pleasure nigh, till he cherish! Welcome,

wean; mishanter fa’ me, if thought upon my part, like Nature’s patient

sleepless Eremite, the moving spirit hovering lies dead when thickest

dark did trance the amphibious sort of harlot, couleur de rose,

’ who’s neither heart’s short fever-fit; perfect beauty a-wee; but come once

again appear before we grow old … I shall beat no more than enough

am I that vex thee still, but know not how it will render double.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 8 #152 texts #treochair sequence

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eyesofsteelandsky · 5 years

Text

FFxivWrite 2019 Prompt 4: Blame Shifting

Tagging @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast up top! Today's story doesn't have Brem in it, and instead stars Tempest Lion, the worlds best idiot. --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a grin that was working on actually eclipsing her face if it had it's way, the most dedicated local nuisance leve worker makes her way through the Mists with a sack full of freshly earned gil and her arms wrapped around an egg even larger than her head. Being that most of what she dealt with was creatures damaging crops, Tempest's renown with the local farmers had steadily grown over her many moons working out of Limsa. As such some that had taken a particular appreciation of her unwavering dedication to the less-than-flashy work would reward her with a little something extra than what had already been agreed to through the Guild. Helping to ward off puks coming for a dodo farmer's eggs was one of her favorites of these, because she nearly always got to head home and make a properly proportional omlette with her gift for both herself and her Sea Wolf girlfriend. She wasn't a stellar cook by any means, but with enough practice she'd managed to mostly get a hold of eggs, and this was one of the largest ones she's ever been given. Excitement was nearly pouring off of the young Keeper as she finally made it into their appartment home.

With the sort of loud, thumping steps that could only belong to a runty person who believed they were seven fulms tall, Tempest head on over to the stove that made up most of their 'kitchen' in the corner of the main living space, setting her egg to rest in a cast iron skillet for the time being. She's been instructed, rather repeatedly in fact, to not use open flame to cook when Kasen was still out working, so instead she sets a few fire aspected crystals into place beneath the skillet and partially activates them before going on to start peeling herself out of her bloodied armor. It wouldn't actually get hot enough to cook that way, but it'd be a head start for when she gets back to crack the thing open.

While she was working at a particularly stubborn boot however, the large egg started to shake slightly, rolling about the warm skillet it was in with each such tremor. These build until there's a crack forming in the shell, and finally an orange beak breaks through properly with a few fragments falling away. By the time the Keeper actually returns to her would-be meal, the upper half of a boggle-eyed dodo chick has emerged from what was left of the egg shell, wiggling and squirming to get the rest of it to fall off of it's tail end. After first recoiling from the sudden home invasion of a tiny dodo, her emotions immediately start to heat far faster than the cast iron the bird was standing in. "Wha... HEY! You are 'sposed to be goop!" To this accusation, the hatching lets out a high pitched wark at the large, angry thing addressing it. Not even a quarter bell old and it's already in trouble with it's 'Mother'.

Following her immediate gut reaction, Tempest darts forward to try and grab hold of the baby bird. The dodo lets out a startled wark and goes running out of the skillet. Given that it's not really had time to do anything, let alone develop advanced reasoning and motor function, it's little feet catch on the edge of the metal and with another sharp cry and goes rolling forward out of the skillet with a flail of wings and feet. It's sprawling form collides hard against the nearby wall, knocking a jar of honey over that sends a sizable glob flying out to land in the Keeper's hair before it starts to drain down the rest of the shift. "HOLD STILL YOU DUMB BIRD!" The cry of battle rings out as she begins to chase the panicked fledgling creature about the small kitchen...

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

The muffled sound of a crash reaches Kasen as she's nearly trudged her way back home after a long day's work, with a hundred different thoughts about what's just happened to her Kitten just now. The Sea Wolf goes rushing to the door and throws it open swiftly, for which she's rewarded with a sharp wark and a vision of pure chaos. Shattered containers lay around half of the living area, there's any number of fluids, gels, and goops scattered and smeared over furniture and fixtures, as well as a thin dusting of flour over most of the kitchen space with several Tempest sized foot prints as well as the imprints of tiny forked feet running at full tilt. In the center of it all was the miqo'te with one ear pinned to her head by honey, a layer of white flour, and a jelly covered dodo she's got about it's tubby belly. Both are peering up at the giant of a woman as she stands in silence as a storm of emotions washes over her face. Taking the opportunity presented to her by the silence, the Keeper thrusts the dodo up as if to present it to the other woman.

"He's the one who did it!"

((I nearly forgot the picture.))

#FFxivWrite2019 #Prompt4 #not brem #Tempest Lion #Kasen D'sol #Dodo #professional idiot

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sonicringbond · 2 years

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Sonic Ring Bond - Episode of Amnesia Island III 06

The following is a work of fan fiction by Joshua D. Tarwater and is in no way affiliated with or endorsed by SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.* *SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS retains full rights over the Sonic the Hedgehog™ intellectual property and can terminate or take control of this work at any time.

~EPISODE OF AMNESIA ISLAND III 06~

★There is no bond greater than to be held in the memories of others. It is a bond for many that grants immortality even. But to be held in the Memories of the Rings, a place of Darkness where for a time Rosy drifted having been forgotten, held onto only by remaining in the memories of Sonic the Hedgehog who somehow remembered her when the Rings inexplicably forgot her.

But the Darkness that is the Memory of the Rings is so like that of the Sky Ring and Tempest’s right arm. How then do they recall her?

Darkness without end Broken by dull golden light Emerging from writhing liquid shadow Taking a form of young girl Not enough to complete her Yet a piercing blue eye opens

“EH~!”

The voice that pierced the Darkness was Rosy’s but the body it came from barely resembled her, liquid shadow doing it’s best to make at least her silhouette whole and failing. But the normally pink hedgehog girl failed to notice at first, distracted by the endless Darkness. “It’s just like last time! Then maybe Sonic is here, and I can get him to help Tempest. But where do I start?”

Looking around, there were no clues as to where she should go, and Rosy futilely held up a hand to help her focus as she peered through the Darkness. Doing so however at last brought her own condition to her attention.

“Wha… WHAT IS THIS!”

“Calm yourself Rosy!” a familiar female voice curtly instructed Rosy as the hedgehog girl checked over her current state in a panic, poking at the holes from which golden light spilled out of her hollow interior as the liquid shadow that comprised her shifted and flowed to keep her whole. “You are conscious of yourself and in far better shape than you could be. That means we can act, and as such we should hurry.”

“Mote?” Rosy asked, turning to see the large-eyed yet tiny teardrop shaped creature matching the color of the golden Ring that lay above it and being held aloft by iridescent wings that were not even attached. Seeing the fairy completely changed Rosy’s mindset however and she shouted enthusiastically. “You’re okay! I was so~ worried after you flew off last night! I’m so happy to see you, though I don’t know if I’m in good shape or not…”

Taking a moment to hold up her arm, Rosy watched a hole in the liquid shadow that currently comprised her form run up it like a bubble floating to the surface of a body of water. “I think Tempest’s arm did this to me… but he’s probably in trouble too! Our last attempt to make a Ring Bond ended up with him fighting some creepy god! He may be there again, and we need to hurry and go help him! I’m sure I just need to find Sonic and–”

“I doubt we will find him here,” Mote cut Rosy off. “Your state, the conditions in which I attempted to open the Ring Bond. It is very unlikely. But if you desire to help Tempest then it is the perfect place where we are.”

“Mote, do you know what’s going on?”

“Only partly, and as such I will not share my suspicions so as not to confuse you. We have not the time if Tempest indeed must face who you say while you remain here. So, for now, trust me, even if Tempest likely no longer does. We must be quick my vassal. The fate of the world depends on it.”

“Mote, wait!”

The fairy did not wait for Rosy and flew off into the Darkness, only the trail of glittering motes of golden light like those left behind by collected Rings marked her passage. Having no choice, Rosy chased after them, desperate to not lose the fairy. As she ran, she tried to keep her attention off of her current form, something that became easier to do as she spotted a light post with several lights at its top.

“We are here,” Mote declared as Rosy rested a hand on the light post.

“Mote, who… what is that?”

Rosy could not be sure what she was looking at, but it felt painfully familiar. She could remember the sensation of the bindings on her body as she looked at what was probably her tied to some sort of pipe or conduit on the other side of an open gate at the end of a long winding mechanical road adorned in giant brass horns. But like the road which seemed to glitch and flicker, appearing as pristine one moment and decaying in disrepair the next, the pink hedgehog girl flickered and glitched so much as to be impossible to determine what she actually looked like.

The sight was distracting, and Rosy walked towards her, even as she wanted to look for Sonic coming for her from down the road. Even as she knew he was not alone.

“She’s younger than me…?” Rosy asked as much as stated as she held one hand to her bosom and reached for the girl with the other.

“It is likely partially why you are as you currently are.” Mote surmised as she flew in the way of Rosy’s hand. “This is a time from before you were as you know yourself on Amnesia Island, and Sonic does not know it. But looking at this younger you, his memories of you are in conflict as well. I can’t make anything out save for your pink color and that your eyes were once green. Perhaps your current blue is the result of your Ring Bond with him, and that at least your left eye manifests in your current state because of his mark.

“But I’m speaking my thoughts when I already stated I would not confuse you.”

“Hee-hee~♥,” Rosy giggled as she withdrew her hand and looked up the road to where Sonic should have been arriving from. “It’s alright, Mote. I’m really just happy to see you. I feel like it’s been a long time since you talked about saving the world.

“Speaking of saving,” Rosy shifted to a more serious demeanor as she looked back to her flickering and glitching out younger counterpart, “can we save her, or do we just sit here and wait for Sonic’s memory to play out. Though you know, I remember this too. I got captured and Sonic had a big race to save me. It was so close though, but he won in the end.

“?!”

As Rosy once more looked past the gate and up the road that her rising to the surface memories recalled, she expected to see Sonic and a robot fashioned after him. One with mechanically clawed hands and glowing red eyes set in a black screen. And sure enough she saw the machine barreling down the road, a bright purple light behind it, the glowing exhaust of the jet turbine that made up the majority of its torso. But there were not the familiar red shoes of Sonic racing alongside it. The only red shoes were the robot’s molded feet.

“Wait! Where’s Sonic! This is his memory, right? He should be right there and–!”

“He likely does remember it clearly,” Mote cut off Rosy calmly. “But we have accessed this memory through what should be a Ring Bond with Tempest, while you were being consumed by Darkness very much like the Memory of the Rings.”

“But… Ooh~! That doesn’t make any sense Mote!”

Throwing her balled up hands down to her sides, Rosy puffed up her cheeks as she looked towards Mote for answers. “Why would the Rings not remember properly? Why would making a Ring Bond with Tempest connect me to Sonic instead! Why I am like this!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Mote shook herself in an imitation of a person shaking their head. “I do not have the answers as it is, but this is your Ring Bond with Sonic, and we can use it to our advantage.”

“What? How?”

“You are already here, but Sonic is not,” Mote noted as she looked at ‘Amy’ tied up on the pipe and then the robot Rosy remembered as Metal Sonic barreling down the road towards them. “As Tempest is likely engaged with him, you can fill Sonic’s role in his memory and make the abilities he used to save you a part of yourself.”

“Is that possible?”

“There is only one way to find out. Come along my vassal.”

“Wa~it!”

Though Rosy called for the fairy to wait, she had little choice but to follow a new trail of golden lights. It did not occur to her that the road had faded from view until she at last arrived before the gate at its start.

“This place is really weird,” Rosy complained, before she saw Metal Sonic waiting for her.

“Eep!” she shouted and began to recoil but froze as Metal Sonic unfolded his arms and shook his finger at her. “Eh? Don’t tell me…”

“It most likely is,” Mote nodded.

“I feel like there should have been someone else here,” Rosy remarked as she carefully approached Metal Sonic who was taking a stance to start revving his jet turbine.

“It does not matter,” Mote dismissed the notion. “You are in a position to make the abilities that Sonic used to rescue you here your own so that you might rescue yourself and possibly even Tempest. In this space, you and Sonic seem to share a memory. Let us not waste that bond.”

“It kind of feels like stealing though,” Rosy laughed nervously as the gate opened and Metal Sonic suddenly shot off down the road.

“Then perhaps to catch the thief that I seek I need a thief as well,” Mote offered an idea that Rosy might be willing to accept. “After all, the fate of the world depends on it. Now run.”

If immortality comes from one existing in another’s memory, then immortality itself is truly limited. As though memories can be passed on, they change with time and can completely reshape those who they are of. As such, understanding of the past and the shaping of the present and future can all change based on what one remembers. For Rosy though, it is a chance to become something she has never been before, knowing that Sonic is safe as the Rings will always remember, and she too will never again forget the day that Sonic saved her in his race against metal Sonic.★

EPISODE OF AMNESIA ISLAND III 06 - END

-----

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic The Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement.

The Sonic Ring Bond alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and IP research which can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

The Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond story are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein, regardless of creator, context, use/ function, intent, and time of creation, considered for all legal purposes without contest, compensation, employment, or offer of employment, liability, etcetera, the property of the Sonic The Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS regardless of having read or possessing awareness of this disclaimer.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sonic ring bond #sonic fan fiction #amy rose #au amy #ring bond amy #rosy the rascal #metal sonic #sonic oc #mote the fairy

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monkey-network · 7 years

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Two Cent Riffs: My Little Pony Movie, BAYBEE

#BackAtItAgain #TSPOILERS #PonyCinemassacre

Julien: Why is it “The Movie”? It can just be “My Little Pony”. We all should know this version and the superior version that was the 80s. Roy: Excuse me? Julien: Hey, the Smooze song made that movie for me.

Roy: Man, I’ll never stop liking stain glass windows. Julien: Hold up. Twilight has wings? ...Okay, I have missed a lot apparently. Roy: Yeah, but it’s nothing to worry............. Julien: I can sense a pause. What’s up? Roy: Oh, I’m just getting flashbacks....of people bitching online [shudders]

Julien: AH YES, MOVE the sun, and MOVE it back. Roy: Doesn’t seem like a big deal for this celebration. We’re just depriving people from some possibly needed sunlight and fucking with the tides to sooth the feng shui of it. Julien: Can I call the “Pony Privilege” card?

Julien: Huh, I forgot Applejack existed. Roy: She’s a main character, bruh. Julien: Yeah, it the background. Am I right lads, or am I right lads? Dom: “You’re all right, lad.” Julien: Cheers lad.

Roy: Guess we know which couple’s getting the focus this time. Julien: Do we really have to ship right now? Roy: It’s been 7 years, dude. Fans practically learned about “shipping” thanks to this show. Julien: Hmm...that sounds pitiful, but I’ve wanted Princess Bubblegum to melt on Marceline since the beginning so what can I say?

Julien: Looks like Pinkie had her climax.

Roy: Okay, I’m all for Sia pony here (does have a lovely voice), but are there any rapper ponies? Julien: They’re an underground niche of pony musicians after 2Pon and Biggie bit the bullet. Roy: What about DJ Pon-3? Julien: Dub is not rap, brother.

Roy: Bowser’s back?! Julien: And we’re only what...12 minutes in? That’s an academy record. Shit, this movie’ll be over in a blink.

Julien: Okay, I’m liking this new villain here. Design wise, very coordinated. Color scheme is on point. Roy: I just wonder how she’ll be forgiven. Julien: Come on, man. Villains aren’t always meant to be redeemed. Roy: Ye, you need watch the rest of the show.

Roy: Oh no, all the other 3D piloted ships are slowly coming this way. Julien: Yeah, Futurama’s done better.

Julien: Oh shit, that is a fucking sweep down and over Pele kick. Roy: She would be great in WWE.

Julien: Well there goes two of the most powerful ponies in this series. Roy: Well hold on. Maybe Celestia, and Luna are only powerful in the fields or cutie marks they’re given. Like yeah, they’re powerful, but only in raising the sun and moon and whatever Cadence does. So really, they probably couldn’t beat Tempest’s rock spells as much as any powerful unicorn could have... Julien: So, they were useless to begin with? Roy: Kinda, yeah.

Roy: Hey, it’s Crissy. Julien: Wha? I thought her named was Derpy. Why Crissy? Roy: Oh no, Derpy is her name; won’t deny that. But Crissy’s just short for Criss Cross, like her eyes that are the ONE DEFINING TRAIT FOR HER EXISTENCE. It feels like a better name, you know? Julien:...You got me there. That does sound better.

Julien: WELL, after a daring escape via a gigantic waterfall, now they’re on their way to go seek the hippos. Roy: Hippogriffs. Julien: Goddammit man! *sigh* I mean what if they were hippos and I could actually see some awesome hippos in this movie or show?....Fuck, you know?! Hippos are cool. They’re big, strong, and awesome and you jus- *sigh* tch, you’re a bastard. Roy: Jesus man, I’m sorry. Julien: No, I’m sorry but it’s like...I just think hippos are neat is all.

Roy: Oh snap. It’s Ray Donovan. Julien: Okay, this may be a screenshot, but I could already tell Liev Schreiber was tap dancing for his check and was just having a blast doing so; like Jason Mamoa in the Justice League movie.

Julien: How I feel about Michael Pena. Roy: Come on, he’s got his good roles. Julien: Name one that’s memorable. Roy: Well..........................................................

Julien: Woo, that place looks like shit. How come the ponies haven’t help them out, they could spare the resources. Roy: Maybe the town didn’t want any help? Julien: Dude, no. How can just ignore a town that looks broken down, industrial, probably impoverished, smoggy, with some pretty disgusting water surrounding it? HOW can any pony worth their riches just ignore this practically desolate area while continuously celebrating whatever they want? Roy: Let’s....never mind all that.

Roy: Oh no, 1/5 of the fanbase. ⁽ᵂᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ʲᵒᵏᶦⁿᵍ. ᵀʰᶦˢ ˢᶜᵉⁿᵉ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶦˢᵗˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒʷⁿˢᶠᵒˡᵏ ˡᶦᵗᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ᶜʳᵒʷᵈᶦⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵒⁿᶦᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵘʸ ᵃⁿᵈ/ᵒʳ ᶜᵒˡˡᵉᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵉᵐ. ᴬⁿᵈ ʷʰᶦˡᵉ ʷᵉ ʳᵉˢᵖᵉᶜᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵘᵐᵉʳ ᶠᵃⁿˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉᶦʳ ᵈᵉᵈᶦᶜᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳᵃⁿᶜʰᶦˢᵉ, ᵗʰᶦˢ ʲᵒᵏᵉ ᶦˢ ᵃ ᶜᵒⁿˢᶦᵈᵉʳᵃᵇˡᵉ ᶠˡᵃᶜᶜᶦᵈ ᵖᵘⁿᶜʰˡᶦⁿᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᶜʳᶦᵖᵗ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵈᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ. ᴺᵒʷ ʰᵉʳᵉ’ˢ ᵃ ᵏᶦᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵘʳᵉ ʷʰᶦˡˢᵗ ʷᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᶦⁿᵘᵉ.⁾

Awwwww, she’s sleepy

Julien: Oh boy, we got attractive felines in this universe. Roy: Eh, furry love aside, I’m more attracted to the comic’s nubian felines

Roy: Hello “Friend like me” Julien: Oye, don’t go pointing out the better things others have done. We’ll be here all week.

Roy: Can I say, “Suggestive?” Julien: Hey, they’re old enough to get some pussy in their life.

Julien: Okay, best character in the movie. Roy: Eh, I’m not convinced.

Roy: Okay, now I am.

Julien: That...is gonna cost ‘em. Roy: Pfft, like they’re gonna pay for it. Julien: I thought the ignorant rich of America were annoying.

Julien: Okay, there’s one thing that’ll never make sense here. So they’re oppressed and they work under the Storm King’s rule and they couldn’t be pirates. But it takes ONE song and they decide “Fuck it. We’re pirates again.” Roy: Have you ever had a song dedicated to helping you get your confidence and groove back?

[Gasp] The lesbian call.

Roy: I love how they play dramatic angry music over the colorful destruction that is their ship.

Julien: Hey, this reminds me of my Steven Universe fanfic. Roy: What? Julien: I dreamed and started a fanfic about Connie being an Arcane Knight that is seeking the original gems that helped salvage the land from the tyrannical Homeworld generals and this was where Lapis resided because she was originally master of nature but went into hiding after she, Peridot (master of metal) and Amethyst (master of animals) had a fallout.

Julien: When she goes so deep, she’s feeling your sunken place

Roy: WE GOT OUT THE MERCH SELLER, BABY! Julien: WE GOT THE MONEYMAKEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

Roy: Now to be fair, she was trying to save her civilization while her friends were fucking around. Julien: Yeah, stealing from a civilization that suffered from the same enemies they’re dealing with now. Why didn’t the ponies help the hippogriffs when they clearly could have? This feels racist in a way. Roy: Specist? Julien: Yes. Thank you.

Julien: Okay, I can see where both sides are coming from, you know? However, I have a neutralizer that, possibly(?), erases both sides of this argument. How did it take them (the ponies) this long to try and stop the Storm King’s reign when it started to affect them personally? Where were any of them when the Storm King’s armada took over the Hippogriffs, the pirates, that city? I mean, I wouldn’t worry about this so much if the movie wasn’t so full of its “Friendship Solves All” theme to drive home how this will resolve when it could’ve been resolved LONG AGO! Roy: Jesus dude, it’s not that big a deal here. Julien: NO BRO, it is a big deal. Because they made 4 comics, so much merch, got good players like Sia, Liev, Emily Blunt, etc. all for movie that barely tries to integrate its new universe to a series that’s been around for 7 fucking years!

Ah good, we’re entered the third act.

Roy: Song time. Julien: I’ll allow it. Tempest is honestly the only best thing about this movie. Also, was Emily Blunt in Chicago???

youtube

Julien: So...let me get this straight. This girl stood up to a fucking bear and she gets shunned for her suffering? Fuck those kids! Roy: Yeah, I can see where she’d want revenge.

Roy: Okay movie, these Hippogriff designs are good. You live this time. Julien: This time? It’s still getting the slaughter, honey. [revs chainsaw]

Julien: You know Twilight fucked up when Sia pony is staring you down. Roy: With what eyes? Julien: Eye. Roy: I didn’t know you were Scottish.

I won’t question how they could breath in there.

Roy: Aw jeez, she was out for blood today. Julien: He’s getting creamed out there.

Julien: JESUS CHRIST, they brought flames to the party. Seriously, they are burning these beasts alive without fear.

One got consumed in the flames. Like, damn movie.

Roy: Okay, I get that Storm King’s a playful villain, but now he’s just monkeying around. Julien: Liev just wanted his paycheck. He’s doing just as good as everyone.

Roy: Looks like Pinkie Pie is on her a game this time. Julien: When she’s not yelling all her lines. Am I right lads, or am I right lads? Dom: “You’re all right, lad!” Julien: Cheers, lad.

Roy: Betrayal, I never knew could the Storm King could do such a thing. Julien: All I can think of is Twilight yeeting her into the cloud.

Gone with the wind.

Julien: Jesus christ. Roy: Exactly.

Roy: HA. He didn’t expect somebody to jump in the way of the bomb, only to then tag them and infect them with the spell as well. This doesn’t make sense in a way. Julien: Who cares, he’s fucking dead.

That’s right. Dead. On Screen. Full High Definition. YOUR MOVE, “DISNEY”.

“YEAH, WHO WANNA RIDE THE WHITE THUNDER?!”

Roy: So wait, what if Tempest actually got her horn back? Julien: Mass Genocide, everybody in Equestria incinerated; but hey: SPARKLY, COLORFUL EXPLOSIONS RIGHT?!

Julien: And that’s the My Little Pony Movie, ladies and gentlemen. Final thoughts? Roy: Fizzlepop Berrytwist is one of the worst names you could ever give your child. But other than that, I enjoyed what I got, mediocrity and all. Hell, I’m just glad there’s a 2D animated film in American theaters again. Could spell potential for the 16 mil. it earned at the Box Office. 👍👍 Julien: I thought it was alright and could’ve done better for their story beats than taking stuff from other better movies. A fun romp nonetheless.👍👎 Well, what now? Roy: Well, it’s Halloween. Wanna howl at the moon together? Julien: Sure.

#mlp #mlp:fim #my little pony #mlp movie #my little pony the movie #jokes #roy macintosh #and friend #tv recap #awesome #ye #Two Cent Riffs #rifftrax

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