#There are Night Fury scales in the last place that holds signs of him being there

[msphagime]

"But if the main characters in the WIP AU are mostly villains," you cry with much interest, "What are the Riders doing?"

They're unsuccessfully trying to solve a murder mystery.

[arialerendeair]

Dreamling AU - Dragons

Okay look, sometimes an AU just jumps up and smacks you in the face and you need to sit down and bust out like 2k in an outline of the fic because REASONS, and since you don’t know when you’re going to write it, you post it up on Tumblr.  Like this.

Enjoy the random Dragon!Dream, Rider!Hob ramble!

~!~

The Endless are a family of Dragons.  Each of them have found the other halves of themselves, their Rider - except for Dream.

Dream has been through a dozen riders, each romance as torrid and quick to burn out as the last.  He's tried, again and again, but has not found his One ™️ and it wears on him. His one solace, of course, is one of the caretakers they have hired for all the dragons that live on the estate at any given time.  The one all the others know is HIS.  (It has nothing to do with the fact that Hob doesn't mind him being prickly - except it maybe has everything to do with it.)

Dream talks to Hob (his caretaker) as he does not, he cannot talk to the others.  Despairs of finding a rider, despite efforts by all of his family, despite so many attempts.

And Hob, his friend, his only friend, comforts him as he's been taught to comfort any Dragon.  They're a rare pair, the two of them.  Hob, who had once saved the life of Dream's sister Death, given a spell that left him as long-lived as Dragons themselves were - no longer belonged among other humans save Riders, but he was not a rider.

And one day, they're called to battle - they're being attacked (pick a random reason, who cares, BATTLE TIME), and the other Endless go, with their Riders, but Dream cannot because without a Rider, his magic, his power swings wildly out of control.

Hob finds him, barely keeping from shifting, fury in every single step - holding a long bow in his hands.  He meets Dream's eyes, and an understanding is built.  They might NOT be Dragon and Rider, but they understood each other, and neither of them were going to sit out of this battle.

Dream descending into the battle with Hob on his back, firing deadly arrow after arrow, turns the tide of the battle.  They're deadly together - Dream black as night is never seen until the last moment, and Hob rains down death from above with his arrows.

And after the battle, after it's over, Hob's going to be punished, he knows he is, but it was worth it, it was worth it for those moments with Dream where... where he was more than a simple caretaker, and with his friend, who at last felt like he had a place among his family.

Dream is celebrating with his siblings when Hob is taken away, but Hob makes no fuss.  He knows the punishment for riding a Dragon as a non-rider.  The thought of someone else stepping in as Dream's caretaker, as his rider, makes him ache and breaks his heart, but it's what is best for Dream.

So he goes.  Exiled.  Left to fend on his own.

Dream, for his part, coming off the high of the battle, ready to put himself out there and ask Hob to... to see if they could try to forge a Rider bond... and finds him gone.  Gone, with no sign and no word of return.  It's devastating, and once again, he's been left and abandoned by a potential rider.

BUT.

In a quiet village where Hob has attempted to build a life for himself - a simple farmhand, what he was long before he'd ever been employed by the Endless, Hob tries to move on.  He tries to forget what it felt like to fly, and more importantly, what it felt like to fly with Dream.

He misses Dream.  He misses his friend's scathing remarks, the feel of his scales under his fingertips as he brushed them until they shone.  He misses the small, faint smiles that he was able to pull out of Dream more than most.  It felt like a piece of his soul had been left behind and he ached with the pain every day.

He doesn't use his longbow again.  There's nothing but the memory of Dream embedded in it now.

It's over a month later - Hob's made every possible attempt to move on, when Death and her rider Thanatos land in the village.  Hob's there, aching at the sight of her, but maybe she will remember him and he can ask after Dream, just... just to see how he's faring.

Imagine his shock, when Death announces they are looking for HIM because Dream... Dream is not only trapped in his shift and unable to shift back any longer - he's gone near feral.  The direct result of an unconsummated Rider bond.

Hob's accepting Thanatos' hand onto Death's back before he has more than a moment to think, and together they are flying back to the castle as fast as the wind and death can carry him.

When the land outside the castle in the open paddock where Dream is roaring, frothing with rage, clearly under-fed, fire gurgling in his throat as a threat to anyone who dares to come too near.  Hob's heart is breaking, and he ignores the warning from Death and Thanatos as he launches himself towards Dream with no thought to his own preservation.

When Dream catches sight of him, it's like all the fight in him disappears, and instead, he looks SCARED and Hob's heart is breaking, and he thinks he's crying as he races towards Dream and doesn't stop until he's pressed up against Dream's snout, holding onto him as tight as he can.

Dream is shaking and there's a low whine in his throat, and Hob just holds onto him tighter.  He's desperate and will do anything, anything to protect and keep Dream safe.  And he's going to tell Dream that, he is, but instead the first thing that comes out -

"I've missed you so much, dove."

Dream trembles against him and the whine gets even louder, and the ache in his chest gets heavier.  Before he means to, Hob is apologizing, saying he didn't want to leave, how could he ever want to leave Dream's side, but the punishment for a non-Rider riding a Dragon, into battle...

A snarl builds in Dream's throat then, but Hob doesn't let go.  Not until the grumble has faded.  Hob just clings to him, uncaring how many must be watching them, but at the thought, Dream's wing comes around them and shields him from sight and Hob lets the first sob escape as he digs his fingers into Dream's scales.

Hob starts apologizing, saying again and again, he never wanted to leave, the happiest he's ever been in his entire life was riding into battle with Dream, it's the most RIGHT he has ever felt, and he doesn't regret it, he'd do it again and again, and he'll do whatever it takes to help Dream shift back.  It doesn't matter how long it takes - he's going to do it.

Another shudder rolls through Dream but Hob doesn't let go, even when that shudder becomes a harsh exhale from the dragon.  Stage by stage, step by step, Hob feels the shift drop from Dream, until he has a very, very pale, far too thin for his liking, Dream of the Endless, near collapsing into his arms.

Without a word, Hob is granted the privileges and respect as a Rider.  Even though he isn't one, he doesn't have a bond with Dream.

Instead, he focuses on getting Dream back to full health, brushing his scales again until they shine, caring for him as he deserved.  He's idle now, in a way that makes his skin crawl, because they do not practice with the others, and Dream watches him, dark eyes always following him, and Hob feels like he's drowning for not understanding what's wrong.

He's been back to the castle a week, when Dream at last re-finds his voice.  The first thing he says is Hob's name and his knees nearly buckle in relief.  He repeats that he's there, he's staying, no one is going to take him away again, they'll have to fight him, and Dream is clinging to him, and Hob lets him, holding him close.

And Dream is just repeating Hob's name over and over and over again, the only word that he can say, the only one that matters until he falls asleep again, exhausted and unable to move.  That night, while Hob wipes away the tear tracks on Dream's face, he cries.  He cries for everything he wants that he cannot have, for both he and Dream, and how hurt they have been.

Another week passes, with Dream slowly, slowly recovering, regaining his senses after having gone feral.  Hob is there with him every step of the way, keeping everyone else away from him.  Dream might NOT be his Dragon, but as long as everyone thought otherwise, they weren't going to get near him.

And every night, Dream crawls into his arms and presses as close as he can, clinging, like he's afraid Hob is going to leave again.

At the end of two weeks, Hob and Dream are summoned together in front of his parents.  They go together, side by side, as Dream's father, Tyme, demands he begin the search again for a Rider, and that this farce had gone on long enough.

Hob's heart jumps as Dream grabs for his hand and doesn't let go, facing his father with squared shoulders and firm voice, announcing to him, and the entire court, that he has his Rider, and will have no other.  Should they try, not only will he go feral again, he will destroy everyone to get to Hob, without hesitation.

There's an outrage, an outcry, because Hob is not a Rider, he never has been, never was meant to be, he is a caretaker, little better than a servant, and Dream bears this for only seconds, before snarling, fire echoing in his voice, that they would have their bond tested if the court required proof.

And Hob's head is spinning, but when Dream turns to him, his eyes bright and leans in to press their foreheads together, asking Hob to trust him, what answer can he give besides yes?

The three trials - one of trust, one of battle, and one of love, Hob knows them, could recite them from memory since he was a child.

The Trial of Battle is an easy one - everyone remembers Hob's performance in the battle that protected the kingdom, and upon demand, he is able to put on a show with his bow (long-procured from his old village by Dream, a fact that makes his heart ache extra when he thinks about it too much) that more than satisfies the Trial.  Dream's proud grin makes his heart tighten and the urge to kiss him is almost impossible to resist.

The Trial of Trust is just as easy - Dream surrounds himself with dragon fire and gestures for Hob to join him in the flaming inferno.  If he is Dream's true rider, the flames will not cause him harm.  Head held high, smirking, his eyes locked on Dream, Hob steps into the blaze.  The warm, tingling sensation of the fire dances over his skin, but there is no pain, and no burning.  Dream's eyes are burning, and Hob doesn't imagine him leaning in when the third Trial is announced.

The Trial of Love...

Hob knows there will be no coming back for him from this, but it does not matter.  The truth potions are brought out, a vial for each of them.  Technically, only one must make the vow of love, of bonds eternal, and Dream must have known... Hob orders himself not to think of that as he reaches for his vial, freezing when he sees Dream doing the same.

Their eyes lock, and there's a bolt of realization that ripples through both of them.  Hob knows, suddenly, that Dream had planned to be the one to make the vow and that could only be true if... if...

Dream's staring back at him, just as shocked, just as surprised, their fingers suspended above the vials.  There's a growing moment of understanding, their eyes locked, and suddenly, the ache that has been in his chest for over a month FLOODS with warmth.  

Hob's gasping and nearly stumbling, but then there's fire burning through him, but it doesn't hurt, it feels like it's filling up all the empty cracks of his soul that he had never wanted to admit were there.  

His finger closes around the vial, and both he and Dream have taken the dose without hesitation, and Hob sways closer to Dream, his chest still burning in delight and the smile in Dream's eyes matches the feeling in his chest.  Absently, he has to wonder what Dream is feeling from him.

"On pain of death," Hob whispers.  "I declare my life, my love, my heart, my soul, yours, Dream of the Endless.  As your Rider, as your other half, never again will I abandon you, and never again will you fly alone."  

There's a gasp that echoes around the crowd, but Dream's eyes are shining and that's all that Hob cares about as his dragon, his Dream, leans in closer to press their foreheads together again.  

"On pain of death,"  Dream's words are deeper and they carry more of an echo of power that resounds around the room.  "I declare my life, my love, my heart, my power, my wings, my soul, are yours, Hob Gadling.  As your Dragon, as your lover, as your mate, never again will I allow you to leave me, and never again, will I fly without you."  

Hob's crying, he knows he's crying but he doesn't care, because every word plucked at the bond between them growing stronger by the second.  When Dream kisses him, the last few pieces fall into place, and it's like a power that was suppressed in him all this time surges forward and claims Dream right back.  The bond is solidified and no one can deny it ever again.  

There's a commotion around them, but Hob could care less as long as Dream doesn't stop kissing him.  

[Insert smut scene where Dream has scales in small clusters all over his body and Hob gets to find all of those, because HELL if he's going to let Dream call them lovers and not have that be truthful too.]

[blzzrdstryr]

Battle of attrition. Yandere!Zhongli x gn!reader

Wordcount: 1417

CW: Sexual harassment, insomnia and yandere.

Adeptis can walk through dreams.

You see a mythical beast, a gorgeous yet terrifying mix of Qilin and Dragon before you. They’re a creature of a stark contrast between darkening brown scales and golden fur. You want to pray and worship them upon the sight, yet stop, holding onto your dignity.

They speak and their voice rattles you to the very core, urging you to kneel and cower. They speak and there’s nothing but lies and deceit in their speech. They speak and you shout in return, angered by the sacrilege coming out of their maw.

The serpentine body comes to life, coiling around you, like a snake around the mouse. Golden claws rip through your clothes, leaving you naked and shivering and vulnerable. They continue to confess their love to you, sullying your God’s name and it frustrates you so much: you scream and kick and bite at them, your fury doing nothing but evoking a deep rumbling laugh out of their throat.

Vibrations produced by it travel through your body, disturbing you further, and soon you can do nothing but shiver: there are claws and fur and scales travelling on your skin and you sense how they ignite a shameful fire in you, cheeks burning hot and eyes watering. A long tongue forces it’s way past your lips.

You wake up.

It's a twelfth time you emerge from the same nightmare tired and terrified, exhaustion and anxiety slowly eating away at your sanity. With a heartbeat booming and echoing in head and nightgown sticking to your body from all of the sweat, you finally make a decision - there’s no other way for your nightmares to stop.

After hurriedly dressing up and hoping that your appearance doesn’t betray the fact that you haven't had a decent sleep in over a month, you make your way to the familiar house located in the Feiyun Slope.

The trail feels both endlessly long and instantaneously short, the courtesy of your fatigued brain warping the reality around you. You are pretty sure you almost fell on your face a couple of times, but you can't be sure since your body is zoning out in a desperate attempt to rest.

Standing in front of the door, you reach out your hand, still hesitating to knock - an animalistic and primitive part of you wants to sleep, yet another, the one that remembers politeness and societal norms, screams against disturbing it’s owner in the middle of the night. You continue to stay like that for a while, unsure should you wake up the consultant or wait until the morning comes.

A door suddenly opens, solving your inner dilemma, the man in front you looking absolutely unsurprised to see you there: with a hastily put on outfit, deep eyebags and almost mad eyes surrounded by them you must be a sight to behold, like a Jiangshi who just arose after being denied a proper burial. The consultant, on the other hand, is as elegant and refined as ever, with his intricate outfit and no signs of drowsiness on his face, you suspect that his head didn’t touch the pillow at all.

"Ah, [First], I had an inkling you might come today" he says, a small smile appearing on his face and gestures for you to come in, before you even have the chance to apologize for possibly waking him “You shouldn’t worry about it" he adds, seemingly sensing a mild guilt you experience, "Funeral parlour business usually forces me to stay a bit later than most and I am always delighted to be in your company”

You still thank him for hospitality, taking a step into his abode. Despite the house being on the smaller size, it still steals a breath from you - it’s a masterfully decorated place, with high quality dark wood furniture embossed by subtle golden patterns and further embellished by various pieces of art, each produced in the style of different Liyue eras.

He heads for the kitchen, having to prepare a kettle of his special herbal tea, talking about the various plants used in it. You sit down on the offered armchair, it’s softness and the calming scent of incense making it harder to focus on Zhongli's speech. You think you zoned out again, as the consultant reappears in the room in one moment, carefully setting down the kettle and tea set on the table near you.

He still talks as he pours the boiling liquid into the cup and gives it to you, his hand accidentally brushing your fingers for a second. You find yourself unable to concentrate on his words, preferring to just look at Zhongli and nod in time.

You sense a bloom of something warm and fuzzy as you look at him - Zhongli is so handsome, intelligent and caring, and you catch yourself wondering how a man can be so perfect. You heard about him, prior to your acquaintance - he was adept at virtually every field there is, having an extensive knowledge even in the most obscure area, and your first meeting just proved it again, as he effortlessly found a cure for your insomnia, something that even Baizhu couldn’t do.

You asked for the tea’s recipe, not wanting to bother the man further, but no matter what you did it always failed - herbs were hard to come by and even harder to properly treat, you had to order them again and again, spending ridiculous amounts of Mora for a chance of decent sleep. Defeated, you asked Zhongli for help once more. You remember as he was making another dose of miraculous sleeping tea back then you wondered out loud how a man can be so talented at everything, at which he just laughed with his tranquil and pleasant voice and deflected your praise. Truly, there is not a single man or a woman in the entirety of Liyue as reliable as a humble consultant of Wangsheng parlour.

“[First]?”, he lightly touches your shoulder, stopping your incessant staring as you stutter out an apology for not listening, head hung low from embarrassment.

“No need to apologize, one of the effects of insomnia are issues with concentration. I suppose it’s hard for you to focus on the conversation in your condition, so you should probably drink it”. He nudges a cup in your hands to your lips, as you realize you haven’t even touched it, just nursing the cup the whole time.

Further ashamed by the previous realization you drink one big gulp, tea's effects rapidly appear, as you feel the improvement in the mental clarity and cognition. Seeing that you’re better now, Zhongli chats with you for a while, as you finish the rest.

“It may seem invasive, but can I ask what your nightmares are about?” He asks when there’s almost no tea left. You hum, contemplating what to say, bits of your nightmares flashing in your mind:

“I watched over you the moment you were born, I saw you bloom from a precocious and innocent child into competent and mature adult you are today, I heard your prayers full of grievances and wishes, there are no person who knows you better than me” the creature exclaims, it’s thunder-like voice both scaring and enraging you.

“Stop, my prayers weren’t for you” you squirm in it’s hold, trying to break free: “There’s no way Rex Lapis would do this. He is a fair, just god and you are anything but”. The creature laughs, vibrations shaking and rocking your frame. When they stop, they intently look at you with their piercing eyes: “It doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not, as I will always win in the battle of attrition. You will come into my arms willingly, no matter how stubborn you are right now, and then we shall unite our fates with an eternal contract”.

You hate them more than anything.

“I am afraid I can’t”, you drink the last of his tea and stand up, intent on finally sleeping, as a wave of drowsiness hits you with a renewed strength. Your vision goes dark for a second and your knees buckle, but Zhongli catches you in time, saving you from a nasty fall.

“You should sleep there, you are too tired to go back to your house” he sounds genuinely worried, a detail that makes your heart skip a beat, as he helps you to go to the guest’s bedroom and prepares a bed for you.

How can a person be so kind, you think later as you fall asleep in his house, I think I am falling for him.

[brahkest-fr]

CW: trauma, maggot/worm imagery, blood, general violence | Titan n Chimera have a moment

Titan rushed down the hall, long tail flailing mercilessly behind him, tripping cursing guards as he sprinted through ancient corridors that reeked with the stench of dust and mold. Another tundra stood at the end of the dungeon, old eyes cold and weary, not at all surprised at the other’s sudden appearance. He crossed his arms as Titan approached apprehensively. He didn’t meet his gaze but the elder bore through him with a fire that could raise the dead.

“Let me see her,” Titan demanded, rare harshness in his voice.

The other tundra squinted. “Be my guest. She will be dealt with by the morning,” he spat and pushed past him, frail old shoulder barely nudging Titan’s massive frame but the sentiment was there. “I told you something like this would happen.”

He waited until the other left before gingerly opening the wooden cell door, its creaking overwhelming the deep, pained breaths from within. His jaw slacked as he gazed over the hunched form of Chimera, kneeling on bare stone, arms folded behind her and chained to the wall. She peered upwards, head heavy and swaying. Her vision was blurry but made out Titan’s broad shoulders, haloed in the dusty light of the door frame. Angelic. She thought she was dying.

Titan conversely became aware of the dull, raspy sound of Chimera’s wheezing and the utter nothing coming from his own throat. Knees buckling, Titan faltered to the floor, hand grasping at the stone as he crawled towards her in a silent frenzy, hesitantly cupping his dear friend’s face with soft paws, head pressed to hers. Her breath quivered, recognizing the gentle touch and glimmering fur that encased her trembling form in a warmth that seemed foreign and unbelievable. He smelled like spices and sun, strong on her dull senses that have been subjected to the stale, putrid jail cell. She mouthed something weakly, spittle dribbling down her chin. He wiped it away, running his hands gently down her shoulders.

She shuddered, gray and melting in the dark of his shadow.

Chimera always saw beauty in bruises. Never was anyone more moved by the blossom of welts and the flush of cut flesh. He briefly wondered if she would have thought the way she appeared now, broken and stiff, was pretty.

She would. Even this dark place - she would.

“I’m so sorry Chimera...I should have stopped you sooner. I should have been with you before-” he gasped as he nuzzled her forehead, ignoring the blood oozing from her cuts.

Should. Should. Should. He always should have something.

“Titan,” she hissed, “It’s not your fault.”

He felt her cool blood seep into his fur, a jarring sick wetness.

He lowered himself, peering into her sickly yellow eyes that struggled to flutter open. They were pussy, glassy - tired. He ran the pads of his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away thin tears she didn’t realize had fallen. He kissed the wedge of her snout, nauseated by the coldness of her skin, the stillness of her body other than minute flinches. He wrapped his plush tail around her, fur coated in the filth of her blood and sweat. She collapsed into his body, for what little slack the chains gave her. Pressing gentle fingers to the base of her spines, he massaged her neck, earning an exasperated choke from her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked in the smallest voice he could muster.

Chimera’s eyes widened, manic and fearful though her body remained defeated and limp. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck. “The same. Always the same...” she sobbed.

He constricted her body, desperate to hold her pieces in place. “Where are you?”

Chimera grit her teeth, “It’s all red. All red and flesh and fog. She’s watching me again. But her hands are around me... I can feel her nails-” she heaved into a wailing bob back and forth, Titan pressing her to his chest.

It was routine for him, holding her, talking her through her delusions. It was the same story each time but progressively getting worse, an assault he couldn’t stop. A nightmare he couldn’t end. At first he thought Chimera simply had many peculiar fears here and there, bad dreams and the like as everyone does. But when her tough facade melted away into pure terror, screaming into the morning because she thought the hand reaching from her throat was real, Titan couldn’t pretend it was nothing. He wished it was nothing.

He loathed to be helpless when he shook her awake, failing to convince her she was safe. How the paralysis of sleep and fear would take her - how his very touch would send shock waves up her spine and out her maw as whines for help. How he was a sailor lost in the midst of her storms, throwing him wave after wave into her darkness. Drowning always inevitable. But the sun would rise and she would be there, resting on the railing of their sinking ship. She’d be pale in his nightmares. Dead. But he would hold her, tell her she was really alive and really there with him. The dark would come and swallow them whole. A story he knew the end to. He’d wake up and in a mad scramble would find Chimera sleeping restlessly in the guest room, tangled in ripped sheets. He’d breathe and slide down the door frame. Content. A moment of relief betrayed by continued suffering.

Titan was her rock though crumbling.

In all their years together, she could only cope with his hands stroking the whole of her back as the terrors would keep her up at night and plague her throughout the day with visions she couldn’t understand nor ones he could ease away. Chimera was always her strongest out in the city where she put on a brave face that day after day cracked slowly, along fault lines that he knew too well - the pinches to her forehead, the distant look in her eyes, the smile that was painfully fake. She tried her best to avoid being a burden though Titan would never consider her as such. It was hard to convince her that this nightmare was his own as well, something he chose to participate in, something he wanted to help heal. She’d look at him like a bug to flick away but like a tick he stuck to her side, sharing in the cursed blood. The gods awful nights and tortured days. The unholy body in alien skin.

Often Titan’s thoughts looped back to Sorrow, the vile witch they visited years ago for some semblance of an answer. It was said she knew everything. Foolish of them to think they would get a straight answer from a creature who delighted in the plights of dragons. The snowy, angelic imperial whose divine body was draped in silk and stars smugly sneered, a soft hand trailing down her own neck to chest, indulging in the deliciousness of their desperation.

“The gods certainly like to choose their favorites, don’t they? How cruel of them,” she laughed sweetly, predatory evil behind cold alabaster eyes.

It was hardly an answer but answer enough. Chimera was a victim of divinity, an ant under a magnifying glass. But what solution they could muster would elude them.

It would break them.

And now sits Chimera, kneeling under a shadow of death, oblivious to the world around her except the all consuming thoughts worming holes in her mind since childhood. Squirming like maggots in a wound, hungry to burrow and fester, their chafing claws scratched at her ears, throbbing rustling heartbeats haunted her sleep and peeled away her resolve. She’d pick at them like dead skin, indulging in habits that would only give her seconds of relief. A fight here. A fight there. Hours of physical training. Her mood was always electric and frenzied, focused on the next thing that would distract her. The worms hollowed the space just under her skin, slithering like plump veins in sickening patterns only she could see. Scratching. Wriggling. Squirming.

Titan often had his aristocratic duties and she knew that’d she’d have to cope alone, avoided by neighboring dragons too fearful or annoyed at the ridgeback who stalked the streets with a fervor that danced on the edge of violence. She suffered in silence, other than her wails that verbalized at the cusp of dawn in the arms of her friend who forced her to share his home, worried what such terrors would make her do. What they did make her do.

-

The grand library was dead silent. Dark. Titan's feet froze on the cold marble floor that could not be a more obvious sign to leave. She’s gone, he thought briefly - unwillingly - and shook his head. No. No. He can help her. She’s here and he’ll help her.

He found her deep in the basement of the library, surrounded by books meant to be locked up now lay open faced, ghostly runes visibly tearing themselves from the pages. Screaming wails from nowhere bounced off the walls as Chimera sat in the middle of a magic circle, muttering a language not even the Shade knew, lost in thought. Possessed. He yelled to her, held back by an invisible force of her own creation and she turned, face wet and screaming, desperate to end her torment. While an ancient tongue left her lips, she mouthed, help me.

Please.

Titan, filled with a fury and desperation that puppeteered his movements, tore through the magic barrier with a feral violence masked by the ghostly paleness of his face: a visible trace of doubt should he fail.

Why couldn’t he be here sooner.

He pulled her away from the cursed tomes but not without a fight as she flailed, child-like and dangerous, claws narrowly digging into the scruff of his throat. In this effort he forgot how strong she truly was, tangling themselves in a heap of limbs. In a last attempt to summon some gods’ forsaken horror, Chimera flew to a book, screeching its words like a siren until Titan grabbed her by face, tearing her away along with a vibrant strip of flesh from chin to eyebrow. Reeling back in pain and blinded by blood, she collapsed, pooled in sweat and sobs as she held her cheek, crying for it all to end, for the maggots in her brain to cease their chatter. Her back arched and she tore at her scales as if covered in ants, rolling along the cool floor to disperse the heat in her muscles. Titan loomed over her, hands unsure what to hold, how to touch. It was a piercing self awareness of his vulnerability in that moment. He heard yelling from above, likely guards posted outside. Chimera kept screaming, scratching, panting, crying. He shakily stared at his paws, fur now sticky with sweat and blood and grime. He wiped his hands in frantic motions, desperate to clean himself of the viscera he drew but it only smeared and matted his fur in pungent red. It was all wrong. Everything was wrong. He didn’t know what to do.

He didn’t know what to do.

-

He was beside her again now, no more confident than before but he could hide that, for now. His arms wrapped around her shoulders as she wailed, biting into his flesh, drawing crimson over his sunset fur. The pain was dull and fleeting while his thoughts were scattered and distant in the love he wished was enough. Her ribs cracked as she heaved in coughing fits, delicate and ready to burst. He wanted the floor to fall away, enveloping them in a comforting darkness - a place of attractive nothingness. He wished for a lot of things in that moment.

His tailed tightened, python-tight and unwillingly to let go. The torn flesh cutting across her eye festered, swollen and red. He forced himself to keep from turning away. You did that. Her sobs slowed and she was coming back to the present, away from the pit of worms who for now would slumber, buried deep under her skin, ghosts pricking their nails in anticipation against her bones. He stared at the chains bolted to the wall. Brittle.

“Chimera?”

She hung her head. Resigned.

“I want you to run.”

[nebula-starlight]

Sepsis (Pt. 16: A Story Told)

She… She hadn’t done it! She hadn’t murdered that Healer in cold blood. She wasn’t a monster! It- It was all the fault of that voice in her head. The one who constantly growled and glitched and made the last few months of her life a living hell without Nethreis there to keep it subdued. She couldn’t give the Other its satisfaction of a name. Names had power after all and her only goal at the moment, besides running for her life, was to prevent that… thing from having any more influence than it had already accumulated. So she ran, taking flight in the dead of night towards the nearby towering Northern Mountains to seek out a place to reside away from those who no doubt wished for her death. There was simply no way she could make them understand that it hadn’t been her who committed the heinous crime. 

When she finally landed, Versila slid over the fine layer of snow and nearly lost her balance before grabbing hold of a frosted over boulder and clinging to it until her hind claws dug into the frozen ground with enough purchase to the point that she would not fall. Her eyes flickered around, taking in the bleak landscape and she sighed, wings pressing tight against her side as a bitter chill made her long for the warmth of an open fire. That luxury was one she could not afford now, much to her dismay, but she shoved off the longing and started making her way through the snowy terrain as best she could. Hopefully she had a far enough head start that any who tried to follow would have to struggle to catch up with her before the night’s shadows got too thick to safely traverse the landscape. 

Unfortunately the cold did not prevent that ever-present glitchy voice from growling once again, seemingly irritated about something or another. And while it wasn’t entirely audible, or at the very least she didn’t focus too hard on it, the fact that it was still present left her feeling…. bitter. It wasn’t entirely the bitterness of rejection or the pang of jealousy but it was enough of a sensation that she stopped where she was for a moment and lifted her head to see the clouded night sky. They were better off without her in their lives. He…. No she couldn’t cast him aside even though he had left her alone for months while he went off and did the various killings commanded of him by those infernal Councilmembers and their pompous leader. Magnus had, after all, been the one to put the charge of her father’s death on her and then bind her soul to Nethreis’s in some sick twisted scheme to plant a sense of control over the kind, gentle spirit that had once saved her life in ways she hadn’t even gotten up the courage to tell him. 

“Please…. If there is one who watches over us… please spare him from the horrid fate I fear those vile leaders have planned for him. He does not deserve such misery after all he has…” She trailed off, hearing just over the wind the faintest echo of a very familiar bellow. It couldn’t be. He wasn’t scheduled back for another few days at the very least according to the last letter he had sent her some weeks prior. 

The voice in her head snarled angrily, glitching with enough force that Versila winced, feeling it ripple through her body from the force of the apparent hatred. Had the Other ever expressed such disgust of what was hers? For whatever reason she could not seem to recall and that thought brought her a sense of deep sorrow. Shaking her head, she was about to move on when some sense she could not name made her look back the way she had come so far through the snowed mountainous land. If he followed her… Was he still obeying those orders that had been drilled into him by Magnus? She knew of the secret meetings, though unaware of what was discussed, but saw how weary her mate appeared each time she comforted him in their home afterwards. It was as if there was an energy depleted from him after each of his meetings with the Councilmember and her concern had only grown the less he seemed to share with her about these interactions. Why was he acting as if these conversations were private? Was she not his mate and bound to his soul as he was to hers? 

Another pang of a glitch made her even more uneasy and again she looked back behind her. For a split second she swore amongst the blackness she saw a flash of distant crimson. Why did she feel in the depths of her soul that something was very much wrong? Surely it was just her overly heightened paranoia making her incredibly skittish about the whole situation from when she fled during the night to avoid being arrested for yet another crime that was not her fault. To be honest she was becoming very tired of the sheer persistence of this unknown being who seemingly had taken up refuge in her mind, probably without her awareness even. It might have been her father’s cruelty that had awoken it but now she was determined to ignore the presence to the best of her ability. 

She jumped, wings beating against the ground as dimly she heard what sounded to her like a very familiar chuckle, however it was much lower than she had ever recalled hearing before. Something was definitely wrong now. Every sense of self-preservation she had left was screaming at her to run. It was a hunt and she was the prey. Worse she had no idea where her assailant was coming from or even who it- Actually she suspected by now she knew who it was. There was every possibility that this had been planned from the start with those secretive meetings. It seemed entirely like something Magnus would do. He had been against her from the very beginning. 

From the snow around her, Versila shrunk back, seeing the sudden appearance of a smoky gray mist that slowly swirled around her. She bit back a growl and bolted, taking to the air even as the shadows exploded right underneath her and a large dark figure slammed into her from below, talons tearing against her chest as she screamed. The Other howled in fury, glitching violently to the point where her body contorted and she fell, somehow spinning during her descent and landing on her side in the snow once all the momentum left her and she rolled to a stop. Her wounds stung, already oozing ink that slid down her graying scales as she whimpered and struggled back up on her feet. 

That wasn’t her Nethreis. Not anymore. He was replaced by an unfeeling monster who had caught up to her and would surely attempt to make this mountainside the spot where her life would end. Versila spat out some sparks warningly at him, daring him to try for another strike. Her attacker landed gracefully some feet away after circling around, his gaze little more than a jaded, stone-cold glare of eerily flickering red. It was an utter abyss around her now, all traces of the earlier dusk having proceeded onward into the darkest of night. Had she not been actively trying to gauge how he would respond next, she knew she would have otherwise been seeking out an isolated place to bunker down until dawn rose next. Now she was forbidden even a sliver of a guarantee that she would still be alive to welcome in a new day. Nethreis had yet to address her and that knowledge was growing ever more concerning the longer the silence between them went.  

“Silskiva.” His use of her last name alone made her flinch, the tone so eerily reminiscent of Raymos’s that for a split second she thought maybe somehow her deceased father had found a way to punish her once more out of pure spite. “Versila…. Silskiva.” 

“...Love?” Her voice caught in her throat, barely resisting the urge to retreat away from his imposing presence. “Nethreis… it… it’s me. Your beloved. I know you recognize- Eep!” 

His stance posture shifted, lowering ever so slightly at her words, though not in a sign of recognition. She knew that shift as a conditioned habit of his calculating mind affirming the plan he had decided upon. As he slipped further into a crouch, her breath hitched, stepping back as he bared his stained fangs at her directly. Versila started to turn to run but the Other violently glitched again, forcing her to confront her wayward lover who had not said hardly anything to her since arriving. 

It wasn’t her lunging at him. Versila wanted so desperately to scream at him in warning but she found, to her horror, that she wasn’t seeing through her own eyes anymore. It was as though something had taken all control away from her and she was being forced to watch as Nethreis rose to meet the advance. She tried to stay focused on what was happening but she was strangely suddenly hit with a wave of sheer exhaustion. Going to sleep would be so easy…. He was here, he would keep her safe. Her most precious…. mate.  

How she would be protected under his wings. Protected…. forever.  

[unsympathetic-angst]

Janus is actually pertrified of snakes. patton loves them to death. so Patton finds out and he mocks janus for his scales causing a panic attack and he just...locks himself in his room. for four months. when he comes out, his face is all scar tissue where the scales once were. and his fear of snakes is gone. now he fears patton. ((could you please write this for me? i dont have much writing skill myself and i would actually internally die you wrote this for me. you dont have to i promise-))

ive been wanting to do something like this and i finally have an excuse too awawaa,,, also plz dont die and fun fact u should write whatever u want. just have fun with it ^^ writing just takes practice

TW: U!Patton, physical abuse, verbal abuse, implied suicidal thoughts, scars, scalpel, implied/referenced panic attacks, cutting someone, crying, loss of breathe, weapons, slight victim blaming, let me know of other things to tag !

"I'll cut your little heart out 'cause you made me cry"

 Janus was reserved as he knew any sign of weakness would be used against him. He knew how predators would hunt down its prey till the small creature is too weak to run then the beast would pounce on it and uses everything it had on the poor thing. The deceitful side isn't aware of how Patton learns of his fear of snakes, but whatever mistake he made to let the information be known to the fatherly side would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Patton is cruel and revolting. He for being the moral side shows no moral code to his treatment of dark sides. It isn't a hidden secret but the more inhuman things Patton does is only for Janus to witness and bare. Janus despised this burden; the constantly forced to deal with his fear until he passes out from hyperventilation and continuously forcing himself to drag himself to the bathroom to heal the ripped off scales made him unbearably fatigued. It had been two months and Janus lost hope one month ago. Any form of begging or pleading was disregarded like trash so he stayed silent allowing for the moral side to play with him like a doll.

The snake side grudgingly wakes up depleted. He's only been awake for a few seconds and his mind is already begging for him to just let go. Perhaps then it would be easier than dealing with Patton. Janus shakes his head and gently placed a gloved hand over his eye, a small depressing smile forming as he recalls the only semblance of himself he was allowed to keep were his gloves. Janus pushes himself and a prominent weight of fatigue that crashes into him which causes him to stumble. He uses the wall to hold himself up while he trudges to the bathroom. He opens the sink and looks at the mirror grimacing at the reflection that made his stomach turn. Janus's face was much paler, frailer, and fewer scales. He gently swifts over the scars feeling the dry patch of healing skin. He feels filthy.

Janus isn't sure when he went back to bed, time was lost in this small, cold, empty room. The deceitful side unintentionally jumps at the sound of the door clicking. He internally hopes that it's another side but he should have realized there was no hope. The smile on Patton's face sends shiver's down Janus's spine.

"Evening Janus!" Patton smiles," hope you're having a good day, mines been tiring."

 Janus doesn't speak he's learned not to.

 "Ever since you've been gone Logan been more annoying! I love Logie but ugh, he just needs to shut up! He keeps trying to logic every situation as if he knows anything, perhaps a stay in here for a bit would teach him better," Patton says lowly with a maddening smile.

 "Don't!" Janus utters," do bring Logan into this room."

 Patton turns to face him with a shocked yet intrigued expression. He slowly moves to sit on the other bed and looks at the sheets as he spoke with venom," you know, Logan does ask about you a lot. I've told him you had a panic attack and chose to stay inside. He thinks Thomas being more honest is a bad idea, but what does he know."

 "More than you," Janus hissed.

 "Excuse me?" Patton replied.

 Janus throws his gloved hands over his mouth as he internally curses. Patton being pissed was an understatement. His eyes burned with fury yet the calm exterior terrified Janus. He knew it'd be another terrible night.

 "Gloves off Janus," Patton muttered.

 He did as he was told. Patton moved to one of the snake cages and took out a snake. Janus grimaces knowing that the snake had a texture that made him nauseous and it didn't help that the snake had venom. While he couldn't die he knew Patton would force Janus through the symptoms.

 "I want you to pet him," Patton commands.

 It's a simple command but Janus deeply wants to deny it.

"Please Patton, I'm sorry. I did mean to upset you please I cant-"

 "You can and you will if you want to make sure Remus and Logan stay out of this room," Patton spat.

 He hasn't even started touching the snake and he's already crying. Patton snickers as he watches shaky fingers pet the small reptile.

 "Amusing that your fear of snakes makes you this emotional," Patton spoke as Janus pulls his hand away.

 "I'm sorry I'm sorry please I've learned my lesson," Janus please through shaky breathe.

 He can barely breathe and his vision is going in and out. Janus is sure he'll pass out soon and he wants too, he's so tired but he knows what'll happen if he does. Patton hums to show he’s thinking," hm, well I suppose you have learned your lesson but I'm not done yet kiddo."

 Patton gets up gently putting away the snake and heads to the bathroom. Janus groans knowing what's coming next. Patton comes with a scalpel and wipes.

 "Stay still or I'll cut you," Patton says with an innocent tone, but the words worked.

 Janus was still while he cried. He was slightly depersonalizing but he knew he'd feel it all. Patton gently wipes the scales. Janus holds in a breath and closes his eyes as he feels cold metal latching onto his skin.

———

 Janus's return is a shock to everyone. His empty eyes and healed skin is sight for sore eyes, and how he shivers in room temperature indicates how frail he’s become.

 "Janus is back!" Patton says warmly, wrapping his arms around the deceitful side.

 "Patton what did you do to Janus for the last four months," Logan questions terrified.

 "I just helped him a bit! He doesn't like snakes so I fixed that fear for him!" Patton answers letting Janus go. Remus quickly grabs Janus away from the moral side, shocked to see Janus gripping onto Remus tightly.

 "You ripped off his scales you monster!" Roman yelled drawing out his sword.

 Patton just shrugs," he made upset so I taught him a lesson."

 His smile sent shivers down everyone's spine.

[anistarrose]

Part TAZ Graduation, part TAZ Amnesty, entirely an experiment. Consider this a pilot episode for a fic premise I’ve gone and gotten myself invested in, but don’t have time to commit to right now. Were this an official first chapter, it would be tentatively titled “Prologue — The Exiles.”

The point is, I come bearing Amnesty’s plot adapted to Graduation’s cast of characters, not to mention so much lore. Like, way more lore than I could fit into just one fic.

CW: mind control, something that gets briefly mistaken for a suicide attempt (it isn’t, and no one gets hurt)

***

The most famous features of Hope, Oregon are her two distinct beaches, found beneath the cliffs that house the northern and southern halves of the town. A nameless man — and relative newcomer to Hope — is staring into the ocean, but is not standing on either beach, nor atop the cliffs.

Had he only wanted to stare into the Pacific, the beach to the southwest would’ve been preferable. The white sand is dotted with umbrellas and chairs, and the staircase leading down to sea level from the cliffs is well-maintained, making it a popular tourist destination — less so in these days, he’s been told, but when the tourists do come to Hope, it’s usually for her southwestern beach.

The northwestern beach is less forgiving. Though it appears serene and inviting at first glance, countless signs atop the cliffs dispel that illusion with warnings of rocks and riptides beneath the waves — and even if that didn’t deter you, the only way down to this beach is a rusty ladder that no one but the lighthouse keeper has ever attempted to maintain. This beach is why the town was deemed treacherous enough to warrant a lighthouse in the first place, and why it earned the nickname “Last Hope” from sailors in the olden days.

Yet for a competent climber, the northwestern beach is still an adequate spot for staring out into the sea. The nameless man can only assume he wanted something more than just to stare, even though he doesn’t know what — because for some reason, his feet have brought him not to either beach, but to the most dangerous spot in all of Hope:

Between the two beaches is a crack in the cliffs; beneath the crack is a giant chasm; at the bottom of the chasm, a briny whirlpool. It churns with impossible symmetry and silence, without sound or any sort of fury, yet still more warning signs assure him — the fall into the chasm would surely be fatal, regardless of the rapids themselves.

Yet the nameless man stands on the edge of the chasm, hypnotized by the vortex. He was hypnotized well before laying eyes on it, of course, for he never would’ve came here of his own free will — but now, the whirlpool has joined whatever other compulsion makes its home in his brain, and together, they drag his feet forward.

It contradicts itself — ancient but new, violent but peaceful, chaotic but orderly. It’s a death sentence, but he needs to jump. Someone is counting on him to jump. Somewhere in that chasm, there’s something he desperately needs.

He tears his eyes away just long enough to double-check that the lighthouse isn’t lit — and indeed, it isn’t, presumably because Mr. Keene found more important things to do tonight than climb a flight of stairs. A not-too-comfortable dissonance sends a chill up his spine as he thinks of the lighthouse keeper — he likes Argo, trusts him even — but tonight, a voice echoes in his head, warning him otherwise:

If Argonaut Keene and his partners in crime realize who we are and what we’re doing here, it’s all over. Stay hidden from them at all costs, or some of the banished folk might piece it together.

The voice is familiar, but not too familiar. Yet he trusts the voice more unconditionally than any lighthouse keeper.

Once you’re sure you’re not being watched, double-check that the moon is full — and it will be, if you go tomorrow night. Then jump.

Sure enough, the full moon is the only source of light in all of Hope this evening, with the lighthouse keeper slacking and a fog pervading the entirety of the sleepy town, from the cliffs to the forest. At the center of the whirlpool, the moon’s reflection glows bright — sunlight reflected off lunar rocks reflected off churning water — but you could almost mistake it for a distorted glimpse of another world, peering through a portal at its cosmic neighbors.

The nameless man jumps.

The impact with the water stings, but not as much as it should. Worse is the cold, not cold like near-freezing water but like the vacuum of space, like loss and loneliness as you hurtle into a void with no destination in mind —

But almost as soon as the impact takes place, he’s warm again, and he bobs to the surface of a pristine lake. The moon above him is still full, but the pattern of craters is different, and the constellations look nothing like the ones visible from Hope — or even the ones from his home.

The chasm holds no whirlpool resembling a portal. It holds a portal masquerading as a whirlpool.

A ripple crosses the lake’s mirrorlike surface as he breaches, and as soon as he’s able to take a breath, he ducks back beneath the water, afraid of being spotted. There’s a bubbling trench at the bottom of the lake, which he instinctively knows is the way back to Hope, but he ignores it at first. The crystals embedded in the floor of the lake are what he’s come for.

He needs to find a green gem with silver veins and bring it back to Hope without anyone spotting him. If he can’t, then —

Then —

Then —

He doesn’t know what then. Nothing good, that’s for sure. He won’t let it come to that — and this way, he won’t have to think about it either, or question why he doesn’t know.

Just as his breath starts to run out and his lungs start to ache, he spots it out of the corner of his eye. The particular green crystal is in the shallows, close to the shore, and he can’t stop a few of his limbs from poking out above the surface of the lake as he reaches for it —

Something snags the hood of his waterlogged jacket, yanking him upwards. He emerges in the shadow of a draconic figure standing on the shore, nearly as tall as he is and covered in gleaming silver scales, who exhales a blast of frost and freezes the whole lake solid around him.

Again with the cold. It’s always the cold — maybe there’s a poetic sense of justice about him never being able to escape, it no matter what fleeting hope he finds, but that doesn’t make it any more bearable, and he can’t help but let out a whimper.

The dragon’s expression softens. “Hey, it’s okay. I don’t want to fight you — I just had to be sure you weren’t trying to fight me.” He kneels on the shore to face the nameless man, scales and armor gently clinking against each other. “But I need to know — why are you here?”

“I — I jumped.” His voice is deep, and accented, and just as out-of-place here as it is in Hope.

“That is how most people come through the portal on your end, or so we’ve been told.” A second figure — this one far more humanoid — makes his way to the dragon’s side, holding the staff that must’ve pulled the nameless man to the surface. This one has dark skin, short hair, and pointed ears, but his most striking feature is the one thing he has in common with the dragon — eyes of pure, softly glowing white.

The nameless man is surprised by how little it surprises him. Of course the fae folk of Nua all have white eyes — he’s seen it before, had it explained to him before. He can’t just can’t remember where.

“What Crush and I want to know,” the dark-skinned man patiently goes on, “is why you jumped. Most nights, it isn’t nearly this safe —” He turns to the dragon. “Remind me, hun — how long has it been since a rogue human visited us?”

“Over a decade now, I think,” Crush answers. He inhales, and the ice begins to melt and crack with a creaking noise that, while unpleasant, was a hundred times preferable to being trapped in a prison of cold. “Unless this fellow’s new. Are you new, new guy? Got a pendant?”

The nameless man blinks, still shivering, and slowly manages to shake his head.

“Figures,” Crush murmurs. “Dakota usually comes with the new recruits on their first trip.”

The other fae kneels on the shore, carefully looking the nameless man over. “Did anyone tell you about the portal?”

“I… cannot remember.” He had jumped for a reason, he’d known to look for the crystals for a reason, but that reason is long gone from his mind. He hadn’t even known why he was jumping as he’d done it.

The fae man narrows his eerie white eyes. “You don’t have to lie. You’re not in trouble, we just need to understand how —”

“I did not lie,” the nameless man growls, picking up a floating chunk of ice and crushing it in his fist. “I will not lie. Truth is my honor. I can not remember.”

“Jimson,” Crush hisses softly, but not so softly that the nameless man can’t hear. “It’s not safe for a human to stay much longer without a pendant.”

“Is it any safer for this human to go back alone?” Jimson whispers back. “If you don’t know about the portal at the bottom, there’s really only one reason to throw yourself off a cliff —”

“Shit, you’re right.” Crush’s eyes widen. “Should I keep watch while you go ask Hieronymous? He’ll know what to —”

“He could be busy. I don’t know if we have time to —”

The nameless man dives back beneath the surface of the lake without even taking a breath, ignoring the burning feeling in his chest and frantically paddling for the jagged rift at the bottom. Distantly, he hears Crush shout, but his hands find the edge of the trench and he pulls himself inside, thrashing in the current that suddenly grabs ahold of him —

No one in Nua can be trusted… least of all “Hieronymous.”

He gets a mouthful of familiar salty ocean water, and surfaces beneath Earth’s moon and sky. He’s in the chasm again, the whirlpool behind him and the ocean in front — but the ocean keeps getting closer even though he’s only treading water, as the same current that pulled him back through the portal drags him out to sea —

He hears a dog barking — and then, a voice he’d recognize anywhere yet could not put a name or face to. One moment, he’s struggling to keep his head above the waves, and the next, he’s paddling in air as an invisible hand lifts him out of the ocean, and slowly, back to shore.

It deposits him, kneeling, a few feet from a long-haired collie with a blue bandana tied around his neck, and an elderly man gesturing very carefully and deliberately with his simple wooden cane. For a fraction of a second, the illusion spell flickers, and the nameless man sees pure white eyes behind his rescuer’s glasses —

And that’s all it takes for him to remember everything.

“I… I have brought back nothing, Higglemas,” he admits. “Not one component. This is a great, great shame —”

The collie leaps into his arms, so the nameless man takes the hint and begins to pet him. It is significantly harder to think ill of yourself while holding a dog, and after a few moments, the man realizes that this may have in fact been the dog’s plan.

Higglemas watches with a sad smile on his face and a detached look in his illusion-altered eyes, standing still for close to a minute before slowly angling his head upwards, and staring at the moon as clouds begin to drift in front of it.

“We still have time,” he assures them. “Not all is lost. But… before the next full moon, we’ll need a new strategy.”

Then, he turns to the lighthouse. “We may just have to reconsider staying hidden from the Unbroken Chain.”

***

I have some other projects I’m working on right now that really deserve to be prioritized over this idea, but my outline document is over 2000 words (and that’s really just pre-canon history plus a very brief summary of the first couple chapters) so this has a high probability of getting continued, because there’s no way I can keep all that lore secret forever! This very brief preview already got wildly away from me, after all.

I’m very hyped to get into the Firbolg’s backstory in particular, not to mention Fitzroy and his relationship with his magic (as the resident Aubrey equivalent) — it’s just likely to be a very long wait. Feel free to send me your questions/theories and I will give you cryptic answers!

[xxpadfootxx]

🐾Night Terrors & New Beginnings - Part 10 (The USJ Incident)🐾

The night was warm, the sweet air curling around her body and caressing her wings like soft blankets. Dakota closed her eyes and smelled the air as the wind billowed towards her, the bottoms of her wings skimming the tops of the clouds so that the cool, fluffy material soaked into her scales, small water droplets flying off of the tips with each beat of her wings. Her paws were in the clouds and she purred at the cool feeling that wrapped around her legs and flowed in between her claws. She flew all night, the warm darkness chasing away her weariness and the cool breeze lifting her higher into the air. She twisted her right paw slowly and beat her wings once more, testing the once-broken bones for any pain. She felt none. Her chest and back still stung where the clawed traps had latched onto her flesh, but the bandages that the green-haired boy had placed on them had allowed them to heal just enough for it to be ignorable. A strange pang of sadness shot down her spine and burned in her heart for a moment at the thought of the boy, the one kind human that she had ever met in her life, the one human who did not try to capture her for money or try to force her to mate with other dragons in order to expand their wealth. The one human who actually cared.

Dakota shook her head, trying to erase the image of the smiling green-haired boy from her mind. She opened her eyes and growled low in her throat, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. She had been flying on her own for a week, growing prouder with each passing day at her genius plan of letting the boy heal her while also keeping her hidden until she could fly off on her own once more, but even so, the more she tried to forget him, the more he filled her head, his kind eyes piercing her memories like a hot iron that had been pressed into her brain. She roared out into the brightening night and suddenly felt very weary. Beating her wings lazily, Dakota gathered up some of her remaining energy and blasted a large fireball into the sky in front of her, folding her wings and flying directly into the flames. The warm flames enveloped her, roaring over her scales and giving her the cover needed to hide. She was above the clouds and so no lightning effects occurred during the transformation but the flames worked well enough. When she came out of the other side of her own fireball, her scales had changed so that they reflected the sky around her, allowing her to seemingly turn invisible.

As soon as she was positive that she was hidden, she allowed herself to drift lower and lower until she broke beneath the cloud line, her wings angling so that she could land on the branch of a huge oak tree on the outskirts of a nearby forest. Her claws reached out and grasped the rough bark, her wings, raising, above her head to balance herself as she settled on the branch. She grimaced a little as the branch creaked underneath her weight, her eyes roving over the brightening countryside for any sign of a human presence. She was unable to relax until she was one hundred percent sure she was alone, besides the birds and the deer of the forest. Exhaustion washed through her, flooding her legs and wings, causing her eyelids to droop wearily. Deciding that it was safe enough, Dakota settled down on the branch, curling her paws underneath her and allowing her tail to dangle, double-checking that she was still invisible before unconsciousness took over and she fell into a deep slumber.

A sensation similar to that of ice water creeping slowly down her back caused Dakota to jolt awake, her head snapping up in alarm at the feeling, her ears rotating around rapidly to catch any suspicious noises from the environment around her. She saw nothing, the air smelled clean, and the only sounds that met her ears were the whistling of the birds and the swish of the tree leaves in the breeze. And yet, something was wrong. She could feel it in her bones and her muscles ached to move and fly to the source of the problem. That was when she froze, thinking carefully. Since when had she ever wanted to fly towards a problem? Her instincts were normally to fly away and hide, only fighting when absolutely necessary, trying to avoid detection from her previous captors. But now, her instincts had changed. Her mind screamed at her to move, to find the source, and to eradicate the problem. She tried to shake herself out of it, her ears flapping as her head moved from side to side, but her mind refused to drop the idea and she started to grow agitated. Finally, she stopped fighting her strange urges and she took off, her wings flinging her up in the air.

Dakota shot through the cloud line, her wings folded slightly to move faster. She knew she was still invisible but she hated being out in the open, no matter what, with the sun glaring at her from above her like a hot spotlight. Once she broke through the fluffy clouds, the cool condensation pooling on her scales as she passed through them, she shot another fireball into the sky and flew through it until she had revealed herself once more, her scales returning back to their natural shiny black color. Dakota shook herself as she flew, a slight tingly feeling tickling down her back and sides. She began to fly south, her wings pumping in slight confusion as she tried to figure out which direction to move in. Suddenly, the mark on her forehead began to throb, the swirly figure glowing a faint blue. Dakota threw her wings forward, halting in midair with a pained roar. She paused for a moment before she turned around to fly north, following the slight pull of her marking. As soon as she changed direction, the mark warmed pleasantly, glowing with less strength than before.

Dakota had no idea what she was doing as she flew north, the wind billowing underneath her wings, her eyes scanning the clouds despite not really being able to see anything. She took her time flying across the countryside, using her natural instincts to direct herself. Suddenly, she felt something prick at her nerves, a sharp tingling that ran up and down her spine like an electric shock. Her eyes widened and her ears pricked, her pupils dilating as the scene of clouds in front of her dissipated and reformed as a new scene, one that she had never seen before. She was in a large dome-like building that was filled with random destroyed mini ships and buildings that were scattered throughout the large space. Some of the buildings were on fire, some were buried beneath sand and mud, and the ship was cracked down the center while sitting in the center of a small lake. Dakota blinked a few times and looked around, trying to clear her head and figure out what was going on. She turned around, her eyes roving over each and every corner of the building until they settled on a group of people who were all standing at the top of a large staircase, above all of the destruction. Immediately, she leaped behind a wrecked building, her wings tucked in close to her body and her teeth bared in a silent snarl.

She was sure they had seen her, how could they not have? She knew that she was a large creature and that it would be nearly impossible to avoid detection, especially since she was so disoriented. She waited for the sound of shouting and the pounding of boots but nothing came. She peered around the edge of the building and glanced at the people to see that none of them had seen her despite the fact that they were facing her. Dakota tilted her head slightly in confusion and then looked behind her. She felt all of the energy leave her body as her eyes took in the sheer number of people behind her, all of which were holding some sort of weapon. She pinned her ears and whined in pure panic, all of her fighting instincts flying out the window at the sight of the mass of villains standing around a swirling purple vortex.

“Everyone, stay back! Those are real villains!” A voice called from the top of the stairs. Despite the fact that she practically had to drag her eyes away from the swarms of villains, she managed to peer around the building wreckage again to look up at the group of people at the top of the stairs. She squinted her eyes until the individual figures came into focus, her ears straining for any sound from the villains behind her. She managed to make out a strange-looking human in a giant white suit that bulged out from her sides as if it were made of pillows. This human was standing in front of a group of smaller humans, beside a menacing-looking man in solid black clothes who was holding a long white band from around his neck as if it were a weapon.

A cold laugh echoed throughout the building that washed over Dakota like a bucket of ice water, the iciness seeped into her bones and froze her to the spot, her mouth parting open slightly in shock. She knew that voice. She whipped her head around to face behind her where the swath of villains were located, and felt her heart nearly stop at the sight of their leader. It was him… the man with the hands covering him from head to toe… he was the one who had tortured her, he was the man who had nearly driven away her sanity, who had killed almost every last Night Fury in an attempt to find her. Because he was the one she was supposedly destined to bond with.

“You think you can protect your students, hero? Against the likes of all of us?”

Another cold laugh followed the comment and Dakota shrank back as much as she possibly could in the cramped space.

“I will fight to the end if it means I can protect these aspiring heroes,” the woman in the spacesuit called out.

Dakota swiveled her head back around to look back at the smaller group of people. She peered at all of their faces but it was hard to see them with all of their strange gear and costumes on. Her eyes combed through the group, moving past a spiky blonde boy, a frog-like girl, a boy with strange, purple balls on his head, and then over a girl in a pink, black, and white body-suit with chocolate brown hair. Dakota perked her ears slightly when she saw the girl. She was the sweet girl who had fed her some beef when she was injured. Dakota remembered that the green-haired boy, Izuku, had called her Uraraka. Her tail absentmindedly thumped on the ground twice, but she stopped it before it attracted any unwanted attention. She was still confused as to why she had not been spotted yet despite being in the center of the action, but she decided to not think about it too much and use it to her advantage. Dakota then glanced beside Uraraka and felt her heart skip a beat. It was Izuku. There was no doubt about that green hair and wide eyes.

Dakota suddenly felt severe panic as she realized everything all at once. Izuku was in trouble. That was what her bonding mark had been trying to warn her of. She didn’t even stop to think as she bolted from her hiding spot and out into the center of the area, half galloping and half flying towards Izuku. She took the stairs six at a time and leaped past all of the other people, ignoring them entirely, her ears roaring and her eyes fogging up as she focused entirely on reaching the boy. She finally made it and reached a protective paw out. She really didn’t know what she meant to do, maybe hold him close to her as a thank you and an apology, maybe to bat him across the head for making her feel attached to him but what she did not expect was for her paws to feel nothing but air. She swiped right through him, Izuku’s body disappearing into swirls of smoke.

Dakota whined in confusion and looked around frantically to find all of the people starting to whisk away. She also realized that none of them were looking at her, as if a giant black dragon had not just run in front of them and try to hug one of the students in the group. The building also began to fade until she could once more see clouds in front of her. She whipped her head around back and forth, searching for the people and the villains and the destroyed buildings, only to find empty sky and a large, spanning blanket of clouds below her. She blinked rapidly and shook her head, her entire body trembling with nerves. She calmed herself after a few minutes of breathing and collecting her thoughts. She managed to keep herself in the air as well despite the fact that her wings were trembling and twitching. Once she felt calmer, she narrowed her eyes and changed course slightly. Izuku was in danger and no matter what grudge she held against humans, she was in his debt. Pumping her wings with greater fervor, Dakota aimed for the edge of a forest where a giant meadow bled from the treeline and led the way to a charming little cabin.

______________________________________________________

Haruka stood at the kitchen sink washing some of the dishes from the previous night’s dinner, staring out the window at the swaying grasses and the proud trees of the forest beyond, thinking about the Night Fury. The one that got away. Cassian brought her out of her reverie with a soft squawking noise and a gentle nudge to her shoulder. Haruka smiled and rubbed the eagle’s head with the tip of her finger.

“Sorry buddy, I know we haven’t had a lot of time together, I am just desperately trying to find that Night Fury. You know how important it is that we find her, both for her sake and for young Midoriya’s,” Haruka said sadly.

Cassian closed his eyes and dipped his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“I promise that as soon as we find her, we can hang out more but in the mean-time, we can go on one flight today but I want to then get back to focusing on where she may have gone.”

Cassian nodded and took off, leaving small scratches on the kitchen counter as he made his way across the hall to a wooden post for him to land on. His wings fluttered as he settled himself on the wood, his talons curling in slightly. Tucking in his wings, the regal bird chirped a little and looked out the window in front of Haruka, gazing at the blue sky. Haruka went back to washing dishes, her eyes downcast and her nimble finger drifting over each plate with warm suds. Cassian was about to turn his head to take a short nap when something small caught his eye. The bird tilted his head at the window and peered sharply into the sky where a tiny black dot had suddenly appeared. The black dot was getting closer and closer until his sharp eagle eyes were able to define the shape in the sky. His heart leaped into his mouth in excitement and Cassian squawked loudly.

Haruka turned to face him and he tittered on the wooden post a little, his beak parted in a small smile.

“I am sorry Cassian but I’ve already told you, we have to wait until later to go flying. I am almost done with the dishes but you have to wait,” She said.

The bird shook his regal head and screeched again. Haruka suddenly felt a soft tug on the edge of her mind, as if someone had suddenly built a small bridge across it and she felt Cassian’s warmth in her head. A deep, growly male voice filled her head as Cassian spoke to her.

“Look out the window, at the sky,” Cassian purred. “Someone finally decided to crash the party.”

Haruka whipped around and Cassian smirked a little as he saw her eyes widen in shock and excitement. She didn’t even respond before bolting out the door to meet the Night Fury, who was darting for them at the speed of a rocket. Cassian did not need any prompting to follow and took off after his bonded dragon rider, his eyes shining. The dragon got closer and all of a sudden, Cassian’s smile disappeared and the gleam in his eye was replaced with something slightly darker as he realized that something was very wrong. She was flying out in the open without any cover and she was beating her wings rapidly.

“Haruka, something is wrong,” Cassian whispered into the bridge of their minds and he felt a gentle caress, like wind blowing across an old wooden fence in the fall, against his mind to show that she had heard him.

Dakota finally landed heavily on the ground and trotted quickly towards the pair, her eyes wide and her chest heaving with exhaustion. Cassian approached her immediately, flying up to her to land on her muzzle. Dakota tensed but held still as the eagle glared at her before giving a low growl.

“What is wrong?” He asked gently.

“I’m not really sure,” Dakota answered. “I was asleep but I was shocked awake by this feeling of panic. I went for a fly to try and clear my head but just ended up experiencing a vision. The green-haired boy is in danger, the one who saved me.”

Cassian nodded and turned back to Haruka, his voice echoing in her mind.

“Midoriya is in danger, let’s go.”

“I’ll get Emiko,” Haruka said and dashed off, her boots thudding heavily on the ground as she ran, leaving the dragons to sit impatiently and wait.

____________________________________________________

Dakota crouched low to the ground as she moved, her tail swishing behind her and her ears constantly rotating. She had not been too keen on being turned into a dog again but she knew that it would be the best form of disguise for her. She prowled through some bushes and peered through them at the gates of the huge building, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of it. She had described the details of the dome-like building to Haruka and she had informed her that it was a training ground for aspiring heroes and that Izuku and his class were on a field trip there at the moment. Cassian and Haruka had given her the directions to get there and although she had tried to leave right then and there, Emiko had proposed a new idea. Dakota glanced once more at the giant U.A. sign that stood proudly at the center of the gate, before moving carefully out into the open.

The security gates to the school had been temporarily destroyed by a bunch of nosy reporters a few days earlier and so although it was open, there were a few guards that remained standing on either side. Dakota kept them noted before looking around to her left to see Emiko and Cassian. Cassian remained in his eagle form but Emiko pressed a palm to her chest and let her quirk reassemble her body until she had reformed into the shape of a small tabby cat. Dakota nodded once and immediately the two were sent into action, Emiko running out of the bush with her fur ruffled and her teeth bared into a snarl. Cassian screeched and chased the seemingly frazzled cat, leaning down as if to snatch her in his talons before lifting up at the last second and circling low to the ground once more. Emiko hissed and spat and ran right for the gates. The guards tried to redirect her but Cassian flew right in their faces, giving Dakota just enough time to slip in. As soon as she was out of sight, Cassian and Emiko ran off, Cassian continuing to pretend to capture her.

“Jesus… that was something wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I guess it is part of the job.”

Dakota perked her ears at their conversation to make sure she had not been discovered before she shook herself and ran towards the building. Dakota galloped at the doors, her paws drumming wildly on the pavement. Suddenly, a medium-sized object splat down in front of her. Dakota looked up to see Cassian circling above her. He let out a squawk and she replied back with a bark before leaning down and grabbing the hero notebook from the ground. Cassian had flown to Izuku’s home and snatched it while the others debriefed on the plan.

Dakota pushed open the doors with her nose and body, looking around skeptically for any sign of a trap. When she had determined that the coast was clear, she trotted quickly into the hallway and padded towards down a hall where she heard voices. The voices got louder and louder as she walked and she paused several feet away, her fear of humans taking over her movement. She hesitated as one person laughed loudly and boisterously from inside a room at the end of the hall but shook herself to clear her head. Taking a deep breath, Dakota galloped down the hall and skidded to a stop at the door with a loud bark. She set the notebook on the ground as the voices faltered, and she leaped up to touch the door with her paws, jumping backward and barking loudly.

“Is that a dog…?” Someone asked before opening the door.

The person who opened the door almost sent Dakota running, but she planted her paws and barked again, louder this time to a tall, lanky blonde-haired man with a yellow suit.

“Present Mic? What is going on over there?”

“It’s a dog, Nedzu.”

“How did the dog get in here?”

“I don’t really know…”

The tall man kneeled and held his hand out a little. Dakota wanted nothing more than to shrink away and growl but she forced herself to smell and then lightly lick the tip of his knuckle.

“She seems friendly enough,” He said in a loud voice. “Hey sweet one, what are you doing here?” The man tried to pet her but she backed away and barked again, twirling in a circle and grabbing Izuku’s notebook. She let out a muffled bark and twirled again, her ears rotating wildly.

“Hey… is that… Midoriya’s book?” Present Mic asked, reaching down and gently taking it from her. Dakota whined and paced up and down the hall, running half-way down and then back up with a bark. She finally looked at the man dead in the eyes and tilted her head in the direction of the exit, whining slightly.

“Nedzu, I think we need to go check on Aizawa and the students,” Present Mic said apprehensively.

“Now, now, let’s not get too crazy,” a new voice said followed by the appearance of a rat/dog/bear cross in a suit and tie. “Aizawa and Thirteen are more than capable pros, you need to finish your lesson planning.”

“But this dog…”

“Don’t worry about the dog, I will tend to it,” Principle Nedzu said.

“Oh alright…” Present Mic turned to leave when the dog launched at him and grabbed the cuff of his pant leg in her teeth. Present Mike paused and she tugged on it slightly before dropping it and making a circle with another whine.

Nedzu tilted his head and twirled his tail.

“You know what, Present Mic? I think maybe we should go check on those kids…”

____________________________________________

Dakota led the way down the sidewalks and across the streets. She galloped the entire way, her paws bleeding from the constant friction. Her ears were pinned as she ran and she flinched in pain but she refused to give up, this was nothing compared to some of the other things she had been forced to endure. She could sense herself getting nearer and just as some of the teachers were beginning to complain about the long-distance and how they were just on a wild goose chase with a dog, a tall teenager shot around the corner, smoke roiling from his calves. Dakota yelped and skidded to a stop before leaping off of the pavement and bounding into the brush beside her, hiding in the plants.

“Iida?” Present Mic asked.

“Present Mic! Nedzu! Everyone! We have been attacked by villains, they have cut off our communication system so we have been unable to contact anyone but my fellow classmates are fighting for their lives in the USJ!”

The teachers glanced at each other and then took off with Iida, tearing down the sidewalk towards the dome building. Despite the fact that her part was basically over, she felt a strange need to watch them, to make sure they actually got there to save the boy and repay her debt, so she followed them at a slightly slower pace, giving her paws a rest.

__________________________________________________

Izuku didn’t know what to do. All Might was bleeding from the side, he had defeated the Nomu but he was exhausted and his time in his muscle form was wearing thin, the smoke from around him just barely masking the smoke that was coming off of his body. The amazing hero was trying to get the villains to secede but so far they refused to leave, just standing there, clenching their fists and shaking with barely suppressed anger.

“You cheated…” A scratchy voice called out as the owner of the voice reached up with cold, dead-looking hands to scratch at his already very irritated neck. Suddenly, just as the hand villain began to get worked up, the villain who had teleported the whole group of villains here leaned down and whispered something to his childish boss.

“Ahhhh yes I guess I could settle for that idea…” Suddenly, the hand villain leaped at All Might with furious force, like an angry cat leaping at an unsuspecting mouse. All Might got into a weak fighting position but really had no idea what to do as the man came flying at him with his rotting hands outstretched. Before the villain could even get half-way to All Might, Izuku was in the air, getting ready to aim a full-fledged punch at the man. A purple vortex bloomed in front Izuku just as the man looked over in surprise which had Izuku looking right into the dead hands. The villain began to laugh as the obvious fear lit up Izuku’s features, his hand starting to close on Izuku’s face…

The villain’s arm jerked on the spot, away from Izuku’s face and flailing back in the wrong direction. The villain screamed as three more bullets made it to each of his limbs before a large purple vortex swathed over him as a shield.

“They’re here!” All Might groaned in exhaustion as the other U.A. teachers made themselves known on the front step by the doors. Iida stood panting in the middle of the group, his glasses sliding down his nose as she shouted out to his classmates. Izuku lay on the ground, his legs once more broken but his friends and mentor were safe and that was all he cared about.

_______________________________________________

Izuku and all of the other students and staff who had been at the USJ were admitted to a hospital as soon as all of the villains had been arrested and contained. His legs were pretty easy to fix and so although he was still pretty shaken up, he was able to go home at the end of the day. He walked home with his friends after they had been released but they remained in an uneasy silence compared to their normal bright chattiness. Izuku coughed awkwardly as they walked and glanced at Iida.

“Congrats today, Iida! You really pulled off the timing today with getting the teachers to come and help us out,” Izuku said with a weak smile.

“Yeah, I was actually really lucky though, I met the teachers half-way there, they were already on their way.”

“Oh, really?” Ochako piped up from Izuku’s right side.

“Yeah. When I asked them how they had known about the attack, they said that a strange dog had come and alerted them by barking and running to the exit and back. Principle Nedzu said that they had almost ignored it but decided to check it out. Seems like a good thing considering with would have happened had they not showed up.”

“A dog?” Izuku asked incredulously. His mind immediately shot to Dakota at this thought. He had been trying to keep thoughts of the dragon out of his mind, his emotions and mental capabilities already plenty busy with school and making friends and becoming a good hero. But he knew that he would never forget her completely. He hadn’t been sleeping well ever since she left and in the dark loneliness of the night, he often thought about her no matter how hard he tried to shove her out of his brain.

Izuku left his friends at the train station, waving goodbye and then turning to go to his home. He sighed as the evening breeze kissed his cheeks, and he ran a nervous hand through his hair, his eyes averted to the ground as he thought about the attack. Finally, Izuku rounded a corner and made it to his side of the street. He looked up to reach for the door when he stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting there, holding his hero notebook gently in her jaws, was the dog form of Dakota. The two stared at each other for a moment. She tilted her head and looked him over, her eyes trailing all over him for wounds. When she was satisfied she met his gaze again, her blue eyes sparkling brightly at him. Izuku suddenly felt a gentle caress down his mind and he gasped at the strange sensation.

“W-welcome b-b-back Dakota,” Izuku said in a tone that was a mix of anger, relief, and excitement.

“T-Thank you,” She responded in his mind, her sweet, soft voice filling his head pleasantly. Izuku gasped and she growled but she padded up to him anyway, her head held up high. She made it to his side before she pressed her muzzle into his hand and sighed.

“It feels good to be home.”

[fistsoflightning]

high tide

the rogue’s guild has a few aces up their sleeves.

                                 gatheredfates’ [30 day wol challenge] | prompt: gentle

(mermay mermay mermay, i chant as if i didn’t forget about it until today.)

every la noscean knew that costa del sol, in the prime of summer, was the best location to take an extended summer vacation—if not for the moonfire festival, then for the view; sunsets painted with dreamy pinks and golds and cerulean seas, fireworks that lit up the sparkling night sky with rainbow fire. even the pirate ships that occasionally sailed by seemed picturesque under the right lighting.

and yet, despite the golden-blue sunset painted today across costa del sol’s skies, jacke, v’kebbe, and perimu all take a turn to the crab-infested beaches just south of the wooden boardwalks and firework displays, heading straight to the secluded cove where the sea rolls in just far and deep enough to let fish in.

“underfoot, are ye certain it’s high tide?” v’kebbe asks as she rolls up her gaskins to look like shorts, using the normal pale green bandages to tie them into place with such ease; jacke really should consider asking how she does it so swiftly, seeing as how he’s still fumbling with his. their sandals have all been tossed into a pile, haphazardly stacked behind a pile of coconuts some idiot decided to use a fishing net to hold together.

perimu scoffs from where he stands, holding the small furoshiki like any old satchel despite it’s precious contents. he doesn’t make an attempt to change his clothes into something that wouldn’t be soaked; his height makes high tide a bit… dangerous. “o’ course! otherwise this cove ‘ere would be dry as bone.”

“right.” v’kebbe looks skeptical even as she picks up her lalafell coworker and walks past jacke to a rocky outcropping, the gleaming cerulean sea swallowing her legs until jacke can barely tell which reflection below v’kebbe’s folded gaskins is her actual legs. “hurry it up, jacke; yer the one they respond to.”

“shut yer gob for a bit, stray! not all o’ us can tie knots right quick.”

even though jacke quickly strings up his gaskins and joins them in the thigh deep cove, brilliantly colored schools of fish swirling around them, there is no sign of their mermaid confidant until the clouds burst in a fury of glimmering raindrops. the moment the downpour begins, like a waking call, rhela’s tail flicks above water, the colors of the sunset catching in the droplets flying from her tail like little gemstones. 

“wyda will be here soon, i think!” rhela chirps loudly as she seats herself precariously on a few flat rocks farther into the cove, tail still soaking in the sea. her seafoam green scales glimmer in the fading sunlight, a red glint hidden carefully among the shimmering reflections her tail scatters across the stones covering the little cavern.

“yer fantasia is in here, miss rhela—two bottles worth,” perimu says with an air of sarcastic formality, tossing the small green furoshiki to the mermaid—and thank the twelve underfoot’s aim is good, landing their half of the trade squarely in rhela’s hands, otherwise jacke would have had the uncontrollable urge to shake the man; those fantasias were frustrating to find, much less two.

“ah, thanks! my twin brother has the stabbers an’ potions ye’ll need, since he found the wreck ‘fore me,” rhela explains, her tail swishing back and forth in tiny nervous circles. next to her tail, syhrwyda pokes her head up with a smile sharp as a knife, sunset orange scales bright against the seawater. “but he’s… well.”

rhela points out to the ocean just past the safety of the small cove all of them had selected for their meetings, and jacke misses the point entirely, staring out to the ships sailing towards costa de sol and the fish swarming in colorful, shimmering tides. thankfully, he isn’t the only one searching.

“jacke,” v’kebbe says as she walks to his side, carrying perimu on her shoulder much like the flame general did the sultana. “he’s just about past the part o’ the cove we can stand ‘pon. see him peekin’ above the water?”

and surely enough, in a small patch of moonlight, jacke finds rhela’s twin barely poking his head above water, near identical to the more adventurous mermaid waiting impatiently for her brother to gather his guts and come up. the only notable difference between the two merfolk is their haircuts; rhela kept hers short, and her merman counterpart…

his moonlight silver hair reaches down to his chin, sterling blue tips slowly dripping as the cloudburst keeps his hair soaked.

“y’see, tehra’ir’s a tad afraid o’ humans,” rhela says quietly as jacke watches her twin sink a little further underwater, clearly afraid of the attention he’s gotten. “if mermaids were considered part o’ yer code, then yer code would have been broken; pirates thought he’d make a bene prize for an auction… an’ now he’s more wary than he’s curious.”

it’s always pirates, isn’t it. jacke’s expression sours just slightly, but that seems enough to put tehra’ir—who has been staring only at him since they noticed him—off enough that he floats away from the sandy bottom, the sapphire blue fish circling him turning to school around v’kebbe’s feet instead.

well, if he has the goods we need to compete with the bloody roses...

jacke can feel the cold stone giving into open waters with his toes as he walks closer to the edge of the cove, but he dares to step just a bit further when tehra’ir shies even further away from the cove. the humid summer storm barely brushes against his face, and faintly, jacke thinks he can smell levin in the air.

pray your luck is better than the last time it poured, jacke. can’t lead the guild if you’re toast.

“tehra’ir,” jacke coos, a small bit of embarrassment creeping up on him for being so soft among all the quiet resentment jacke has for those pirates rhela mentioned but moments ago. he has half a mind to kneel down until he realizes he’d be chest deep in ocean water. “mind comin’ closer? promise i won’t hurt ye. rogue’s honor.”

the merman looks curiously at his hands before floating closer, watching warily as jacke unties his bandana. small waves, soothing and gentle, pulse from where his head breaches the sea surface, tehra’ir’s nose just high enough above the water so that jacke can see the tip of a scar on his right cheek.

surprisingly, tehra’ir doesn’t flinch when jacke leans over (like a fool, seeing as one slip could send him tumbling into a fifty fulm sea trench without so much as a lifeline), brushes tehra’ir’s seawater soaked hair back, and ties the bandana around his head instead. even rhela sounds impressed, from where she’s sitting with syhrwyda, her soft gasp the only noise accompanying the splashing waves and jacke’s small chuckle.

“ye can have it,” jacke says quietly, chuckling quietly into his palm when tehra’ir’s hand suddenly splashes out of the sea to feel the fabric. rhela had a penchant for the bandana, too, so it was only natural that her twin... “i’ve extras to spare, an’ it fits pretty well, eh? makes ye look more confident.”

as tehra’ir beams back at him, gentle sunlight and torrential rain reflecting off his fangs—did all merfolk have pointy teeth, jacke idly wondered—jacke’s feet slip on a miniscule patch of too-smooth stone and send him falling face first into—

into the fifty fulm trench, without a lifeline.

“shite—!”

the ocean is still fairly cold compared to the humid midsummer above, forcing jacke to gasp and choke on the salt water he inhales and gods he’s afraid he might drown here if tehra’ir just stares, his tail curled up in confusion as jacke sinks deeper despite his best efforts; curse him and his poor swimming abilities.

(part of him thinks to look around, to take in the sights of the rainbows of coral and gemstone scaled fish, so similar to the vibrance of costa del sol’s skies filled with fireworks when pitted against the deep blue sea. below, a cavern deeper than he can see and lined with shimmering goods—rhela and tehra’ir’s makeshift home, if he remembered correctly, the seastone spiraling downwards with the currents slowly pulling him in like gravity.

another part of him tells that childish wonder to stubble it because he’s fallen into the sea. not swimming, not able to breathe properly, not graced with the lungs of a merman but bordering on drowning if he doesn’t do something—grab onto the stone by your side or the crimson coral above do anything dammit—)

like a bullet from milala’s revolver, tehra’ir dives towards him, hands outstretched and eyes wide. his tail glimmers with the same light that his sister’s does; bright red like a warning and nearly overtaking the seafoam green underneath it all as he rushes to shove his arms under jacke’s and swim up, up, up until...

air, his mind rabidly thinks, breathe dammit just breathe—

when jacke’s head breaks the surface of the water, he gasps loud enough to wake the dead, choking on air as tehra’ir lifts him higher, moving jacke’s hands onto his shoulders rather than clinging to his chest. the salt water in his eyes blurs the golden blue skies into one, grey clouds melting like moonlight against the sun, and jacke wheezes as he tries to right his mind.

(not drowning not underwater not in a shipwreck not tossed over the boardwalk—)

“are… are ye alright?” tehra’ir asks meekly, and for a second jacke can’t quite tell his voice apart from rhela’s, nearly mistaking it for her until tehra’ir coughs, quiet under the splashing rain.

oh, jacke thinks as his mind stops in place, lungs slowing down and seafoam scaled hands holding him in place, above water further than necessary. he’s not used to speaking common, is he. easily embarrassed, too.

and rather than come up with a coherent response, jacke laughs instead, a sunlit smile working its way onto his face, and tehra’ir goes from worry to confusion to smiling too, emerald eyes scrunching up as he joins in the laughter.

(jacke would have tried to say i’m fine, thanks to you if he had any rational sense left, but it seems like tehra’ir and falling into the sea are both quick ways to rob him of his usual smarts.)

tehra’ir swims the both of them close enough to the outcropping rhela’s sat upon. jacke climbs up, dripping wet and white shirt soaked through as he sits next to the mermaid—which, in retrospect, was not the best time he’s had. rhela slings her arm over his shoulders, laughing even as she holds her fantasia bottle close to her chest, and tehra’ir dives back down, tail spraying a gentle mist over all of them—even v’kebbe, much to her dismay.

“color me impressed, cap’n,” rhela says sweetly, eyes glinting with a trickster’s touch. “haven’t seen him smile that bright since we met wyda.”

“and he let you hug ‘im—even if that was t’ save yer sorry hide,” syhrwyda says, voice loud as the cloudburst begins to calm, and—wait, jacke had hugged him? “i was ‘bout to rush o’er there myself! didn’t think tehra’ir had it in ‘im!”

and as tehra’ir slowly, carefully resurfaces holding a pair of sliver daggers, a small vial of glimmering blue liquid, and a small, well polished and gleaming pearl pin, jacke can’t help but return tehra’ir’s shy smile with one of his own, any embarrassment he might have withheld from clinging to the merman melting away.

his smile is nicer than his sister’s, jacke thinks as he reaches out to grab all three treasures, the yoshimitsu knives lighter than he’d expected. when he reaches out to take the pearl pin, however, tehra’ir lifts out of the water a tad higher and pins it to jacke’s soaked shirt lapel before he can protest against it.

“i thought we’d only needed the stabbers an’ the edelweiss potion t’ get into the roses’ tub, jacke,” v’kebbe says with a snarky grin, catching onto rhela’s wild-eyed expression faster than jacke thought she would. “have ye been charmed by a merman or the other way ‘round?”

“ah, stubble it,” jacke says even as her laughter pierces the calmed seas, the storm finally over; those were just folktales made to keep children away from sea. “yer jus’ as bad as bleedin’ heart.”

(and yet, somewhere deep down in his chest only uncovered by tehra’ir’s eyes, jacke’s certain those tales had a pearl of truth in them.)

[crqstalite]

SHADOW OF THE SITH, CH. 3

TRI'AMA_RISHI.

"If I hear one more person refer to me as a Howling Tempest gang leader, I will not hesitate to stab them through." Tri'ama deadpans, just loud enough so that anyone nearby could hear. Pierce stifles a chuckle as some of the pirates look away quickly from her gold tinged glare. The blonde sith was already tired of the pirate infested planet, and being considered one was infuriating. Being feared wasn't horrible, but if she was going to be feared, she was going to be feared for her status as a Sith lord, not some wayward gang leader.

Rishi was...interesting. Whatever vision she'd got to send her here was about to be shoved to the very back corners of her mind and she'd just wait to see what occurred because of it. After two years of being driven up the walls by the incompetent dark council (moreso by Darth Nox, but she digressed), she was ready to give up and hunt down the blonde Sith to get on with this Revanite business. She'd surprisingly had more fun then than wallowing in memories, alcohol and dealing with less than intelligent political leaders. The smell of salty water was settling into her bones and the near constant chatter of squatters and criminals alike nearly made her force choke one of those damned monkey lizards if their owners weren't holding onto them.

Damn those infuriating laughs of the tiny bastards.

The new armor helped with the heat of the planet itself though. The heavy armor that she typically donned on adventures proved to be too much within even an hour of being on planet, and she'd immediatly switched it out for a hooded half shirt, sleeveless, with a thinner pair of armored pants and clunky but breathable boots. Anyone one this planet with half a brain would steer clear of her anyways, so her midriff would be fine.

Had it been three years ago, she was sure she probably would've gotten at least a wolf whistle from Pierce, but the man had been surprisingly silent on her new look. Protective, even. Her haircut would have to wait until much later, as the blonde strands were beginning to inch down the nape of her neck and stick there. Tied back with a silk band, she'd had to lower her hood once she'd found some inch of shade and remove her respirator just to relieve herself of the pent up heat in her body. Zykken's information to find whoever did have said information on her was going to take a lot more than just her willpower to get done. She'd sent it to Vette to look it over, then extending it to Pierce, but the three of them couldn't make heads or tails of the intel. Her mind kept wandering to the person who was supposed to be good at these things, good with the insane amount of aurebesh that needed to be decoded, and it was hard to keep those thoughts at bay. The datapad, well, that was another story entirely.

And the Red Hulls. Some cannibalistic gang that apparently had also recently arrived on Rishi. Only days prior before she had landed, something about them had flared up and they were the literal talk of the small town. Some were beginning to gossip that the two new gangs would eventually fight each other, and at this point, she wouldn't exactly stand down if it meant they'd accept she wasn't a gang leader. Hell, those in the cantina when she killed Gorro still didn't believe her, even after she'd killed him by throwing him against and a wall and then progressing to snap his neck with just a twist of her fingers. People here were either stupid, or blind. Or both, if she was being honest. Gutter trash didn't always have brain cells rattling around in those skulls of theirs.

Guzzling down another unidentifiable drink (assured at force choking range that it wouldn't kill her and-please let me down-replenshing electrolytes and hydrating-yes please let me down ), she swiped at her forehead to keep the sweat from dripping into her eyes again. Looking over, she jabbed an elbow at her companion, "Aren't you dying in that pack of armor, Pierce?"

He didn't immediatly answer (a bad sign, Vette had been rather unresponsive while they were on Tatooine and though she'd reassured her, the blue twi'lek had passed out a half an hour later. The same with...him), and she forced a bottle of the blue liquid into his hands, "I'll be fine, m'lord." He finally responded after chugging down the contents and looking visibly relieved. Most would assume she was ruthless and vile with everyone, but even the literal hulk of muscle had carved out a place in her heart. She'd rather not have him collapse on her because of heat exhaustion.

"We can always head back to the Fury. It's been a long day, and there's no reason to force ourselves to stay out here when there's nothing to be found." She admits, the sun beginning to set over the shanty town as she disposes of the bottle and stands from her perch on the barrel. "Whatever's out here can be hunted down tomorrow if it truly is that much of an issue."

He chuckles darkly, "You were the one who forced us out here. Sure it'll cool down once the bloody sun is out of the way," he pauses, most likely because she's reclipped her respirator on and raises an eyebrow, "that's if you want to, m'lord."

She rolls her eyes at the formality. At one point, she saw it as a sign of power, having people respect her and be so absolutely fearful they always added her title, but there wasn't really a need for someone like Pierce to continue grovelling at her feet in such a manner. Well, maybe not grovelling (he pressed her buttons as often as Vette did, but those two were the only in the galaxy allowed to do so), but something closer to begrudging respect that she didn't enjoy. It was just, too close to the things he used to say. "If that's how you want to do it, then we'll stay out tonight, Ash."

The corners of his mouth quirk up into a bit of smile, one of the few times she's ever referred to him by even an inkling of his first name. They continue walking along for a bit, one hand always on one of her sabers before she can hear a crier droid clanking around the boardwalk. Stopping Pierce abruptly, she can just barely make out the droid's buzzing speech, "The Red Hulls have issued a challenge to the Howling Tempest gang! In an alleyway tonight, you may even find the two duking it out over Raider's Cove! Who will come out on top and really rule the Cove?"

"You were challenged?" He asks and she gives him a half shrug before turning to him, clearly even unsure of what he was talking about, and then her eyes were looking skywards at a building before smirking at the lieutenant. He sighs, "Leg up, eh?"

He does so, crouching down so she can climb over him to find a handhold to climb up the building, much like the small beats that stole every shiny thing they came across. Among the dizzying array of streets they could get lost in, it'd be easier just to scout the streets and find a general area of where the thing was clankering around. It was harder than expected, but easier than it had been once on Dromound Kaas when she'd attempted to scale a building to find a newly-appointed lord who thought it smart to disrespect Vette. Holding a hand over her eyes, she dangled precariously off the building with one hand and scouted the cove. While none stood out immediatly to her, something glinted harshly against the sun, and she had found her target. "Three klicks north, we can catch up if we hurry."

"Three? How can you hear that bloody thing then?" Pierce questions gruffly, just barely catching her as she slides down the building, air knocked out of him. "Sure there isn't one closer trying to blast our ears off?"

"There are so many alleys in this damn town, I'd rather go get the one I saw and pray it's still there." She says, nodding towards her sleek silver speeder bike. He climbs on first, and then her behind him as he revvs the engine.

He chuckles, throwing a look over his shoulder as she hooked one leg over the seat, "You gonna hold on this time?"

"If I must." She says, rolling her eyes. She wonders if he can tell how comfortable she's gotten around the soldier, willing to put her arms around his waist and lean into him. This, this isn't love. She knows that, though the struggling had only gotten worse after he had left. He was willing to let her sleep with him, but never pushed her any further than necessary. Let her cry, let her even take advantage of him at one point in some drunken fit she's forced out of her mind. She wasn't quick to say it didn't mean anything, it did, it meant she trusted him enough not to throw him out the air lock, but did admit she didn't have feelings for him. A small part of his mind had always been closed off to her, but at that moment she couldn't sense any repressed part of him. No regret, no sadness. Just...raw relief. Relieved because this meant she was regaining sense and was becoming herself again.

Not defined by someone.

Not defined by a hyphenated last name.

Just, her.

It left them much closer than they once had been, and less likely for him to get thrown through a bulkhead at every scathing remark he made. And every Watcher like position she made him take in retaliation. If the man hated one thing, it was being stuck on the ship and watching the action from above. To imagine the things that would've transpired if she'd given her heart to the lieutenant instead of the captain, how things probably still would've ended badly, just much more violent.

A thought for another night.

-

NAJI_RISHI.

"I didn't ever challenge anyone to gang war..." Naji mused, pulling her robes tighter around herself, as if that would help hide her in shadows of the dark town more than the force stealth would. Nadia shifted at her side, growing bored with the hiding technique. "If I didn't, who did?"

"I'm not sure, master. I don't think there's a signal force signature out here that would give them away either." Nadia remarks. It's a tad spooky speaking to a literal shadow, considering she couldn't even see her, or see her facial expressions. The darkness of Raider's Cove wasn't helping either, and it was a tad difficult to even know where anyone was. A dark furred Cathar had managed to sneak up behind her on the way to the alley way, and he was lucky he was just out of pole saber range. "You're really still keeping up this pirate thing though? It'd be easier to just abandon it all together."

"At this moment, we don't have anything to go on. It is easier to simply wait for the Howling Tempest's to show up and we can question them." Naji whispers, standing from her sitting position. It was still hot, but thankfully much cooler than it had been days before when they'd landed. She and Nadia had to hide in the cantinas to keep them from passing out. Jedi robes were, unsurprisingly, heavy and didn't leave much room for air. The two, keeping from garnering any unwanted attention, ended up in overcoats and looser tan clothing. Hiding the sabers had been harder, but the darkness of any room compared to the sun outside was enough to hide them. They ran into less questions than expected, other than the occasional 'so who are you running from?' from the occasional spacer.

"Be careful, please?" Felix had asked her once she was halfway off the Polaris, still a tad frustrated that he wouldn't take her with him to Rishi. Well, he acted as if he were unaffected, but he was pouting on the inside. "Dunno what I'd do if you died when I was away."

"I won't die, Felix. But if it makes you feel better, I promise to be careful." She says, rubbing the back of his hands with her thumbs. Calloused, roughened by years of war. But something about his eyes softened her insides to jelly. Dark, chocolate brown skin in comparison to her own sun-kissed pale hues, hazel orbs in comparison to her own azul irises. They were different, force blind, force sensitive, but she enjoyed their differences, and to think she'd let a pirate take her away from her soldier. "I love you." She whispers, pressing a kiss to his lips before Nadia appears at the top of the stairs.

"I love you too, Naj." Nadia passes by him, and he ruffles her white mop of hair, "Same goes for you Nadia. Be careful."

"Alright, alright." She says, trying to brush his hand away from her hair. While Nadia wouldn't say it, and still had a place in her heart for the memory of her father, she and Felix had a hard time not regarding the girl as their daughter. "Whatever you say, Felix." Nadia deadpans.

She nearly laughs herself, as dad was just on the tip of her tongue as Felix waved a final goodbye to the two women.

Still spooked her that someone had framed her as the leader of a cannibalistic gang even before she'd arrived. Sent a shiver down her core just listening to the rumors that quickly spread about her. Eating people? She wasn't anywhere near a picky eater, but the wide berth that had been given by most of the pirates and terrified looks behind their stoic appearances made her rethink going vegan.

Whoever really did go around eating people, she'd hunt down another day.

She heard the engine of speeder getting louder and louder, then abruptly stopping in front of the alley that she and Nadia had been hiding in. Pressing what she thought was the girl flatter against the wall, she was able to catch a larger man, decked out in black armor, making his way into the alley, rifle drawn. Others, the drunk night crowd she'd learned over the last few days, were slower to move away than the mostly sober ones who darted into shops or ran further into the alleys.

The woman who trailed after him, a woman on a mission with a lightsaber drawn and a red kyber crystal igniting it, made her blood run cold. No, no it couldn't be. It had to be some other Sith who just happened to be on Rishi at the same time as her. But one wavering gaze to where she and Nadia were hiding in plain sight, was enough to confirm that the Wrath had less than benevolent intentions of being here.

She pretended not to see her. Reaching out in the force, Naji could only feel a wall. Something between the force and her emotions, something she couldn't reach through. But it was ill-timed, because while attempting to do so, she had taken her mind off the Wrath long enough for the woman to pick up the roof of a stall and hurl it towards their current position.

Nadia just barely yanked her out of the way as the wooden roof crashed against the side of a building, and for a moment her ears were ringing as wood rained down on her and her padawan. "If you challenged me, show your face!" The Sith called out, all too close to where she and Nadia had just escaped near death. "I know you're here."

Hide your thoughts, hide your thoughts, she tried to reassure herself. The other girl couldn't see her, but reaching out to her in the force, they were quick regain their footing. Chunks of the roof came again, but Nadia forced up a barrier just in time, and Naji was quick to wrestle with the chunks from the Wrath. No longer invisible to the Sith and her companion, shots were fired off by the soldier as Naji managed to multi-task a bit and force a basket from a stand in his direction. With the Sith distracted, the chunks were in her control and she threw them back in their direction.

The two were quick, she'd admit. Too fast. Too soon, the Wrath had retaken the situation, and the soldier ducked out of the way, firing off a couple shots before his companion threw a chunk at the shield. Nadia was beginning to struggle, and as much as she tried to keep the woman distracted, she was beginning to fixate on the girl, growing closer and closer to the two before Naji could do anything. The wood was beginning to pound on their little safety bubble, and the gold light it was giving off was beginning to waver as Nadia's willpower did as well.

They had both gotten rusty over the last few years of being off the front lines. Now, they were paying for it.

"You wanted a challenge?" The wrath nearly purrs, before throwing one large panel of something from behind her. "Have one!"

Nadia ducks out of the way, rolling on her side as Naji puts up her own force shield, before something most literally pierces her shoulder, and she crumples in pain. Blood is beginning to gush from the wound, and her hand comes away sticky as she tries to figure what's happened. Eyes trained to the ground as she readjusts herself to be on her knees, her eyes trail upwards to the scantily dressed Sith Lord, and a quick reach with the force finds the rifle toting man now behind her that she hadn't seen before.

She's about to say something scathing before a fruit of some sort gets thrown -more like force thrown- at the Sith, and it clocks her in the head, a grunt escaping her as she can almost feel Nadia's giddy thoughts. Something she hadn't taught the girl, but it nearly made her laugh as anger flashed through the woman's eyes.

She raises one arm, and her heart stops when she hears struggling from her padawan, from her Nadia. Coughs, ragged breaths, as she holds her shoulder, hissing through her teeth from the pain. "Let her go!" Naji coughs out, red staining her pale fingertips.

The Wrath quirks an eyebrow, before Naji hears a slam and sees the woman throw her arm out to the side. Nadia hits the wall with a sickening snap, and Naji is about to have string of explatives leave her mouth before she hears more footsteps coming from the opposite direction. "That is enough!" With an Imperial accent.

Just barely turning her head, she can see green and black clad figure along with a red flash before she manages to stand herself. First, she rushes to Nadia, who groans first as her blue eyes crack open. Nothing seems to be immediatly broken, which fills her with undeniable anger. Fury, nearly, at the Wrath for hurting the girl.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

There will be chaos if she hurts Nadia again, she thinks to herself.

"This wasn't the most conventional way to get them here, but I didn't think it'd lead to a fight!" Theron's voice, raspier than when they'd first met, but turning from Nadia's rising form, it's most definitely the SIS agent and his Sith companion. Her outfit had changed, but her blonde hair was still present. "Maybe you should've rethought this whole Sith and Jedi thing, Lana."

"I believed that the Barsen'thor would calm the situation first, though it seems the Wrath didn't give her the chance." Lana rubs her temples before turning to her, "Naji, it's been a while."

"It has." She grimaces, as the Wrath doesn't make eye contact with her. "You couldn't have sent a holo?"

"Discreet methods, I apologize for not making our intentions clear." Lana turns back to the Wrath, "You attacked the Barsen'thor?"

"In my defense, I was challenged by the leader of the Red Hulls at these coordinates. I didn't recognize them, fought them because of it. I wanted answers for why I was here and why someone pretended I was a gang leader." She responds, crossing her arms as her soldier reholsters his rifle. "You would have answers for me, wouldn't you?"

"We had to lure you here under false pretenses, but Lana thought it'd be smart to bring you both. Something about Revan being too dangerous to deal with, especially with only one of you, that we needed both." Theron responds, "This...wasn't supposed to happen."

"We're not the most predictable people either, Shan. That excited to see me?" And there it was, the same old Wrath with her flirtatous nature. That, hadn't changed even though her companion had. The burly man didn't seem to react at all, possibly they were weren't involved as she'd previously assumed.

"I..look, Naji will she be alright?" Theron asks, as Lana continues conversing with the Wrath. He hisses through his teeth once he gets a good look at her. "Will you be okay?"

"Nothing some kolto and meditation can't fix, Theron." She shakes her head and allows herself to smile, "It's good to see you too."

[mobius-prime]

84. Sonic Super Special #2 - Brave New World

Brave New World

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Ken Penders and Pat Spaziante Colors: Barry Grossman

We're in for a long one, guys! I don't think a single special issue so far has contained only one story within, but this issue is a bit special. It doesn't necessarily contain one cohesive story, but rather serves as a stage-setter for the comic's upcoming issues, addressing many smaller plot points and chronicling the first foray made back into Robotropolis after Robotnik's death.

The beginning already gives us a juicy tidbit even though it's merely a recap of Mobius' history - for the first time, we hear about Queen Acorn, Sally's mother! We don't know much about her yet, only that she's considered a casualty of war in the Great War against the Overlanders before Robotnik's takeover. After the recap finishes, we see what's happening in the present - the celebrations are over, and now the Freedom Fighters and all their affiliates are faced with the enormous task of attempting to restore Robotropolis back into its former glory as Mobotropolis.

Woof, that looks bad. Remember this place isn't just polluted with all sorts of nasty industrial contaminants, but actual radioactive fallout as well (from when the bombs went off in the Mecha Madness special, if you recall). They decide to start with the former palace at the center of the city, but are quickly attacked by a Dynamac robot of the same kind as the one in StH #31.

The robot grabs Hershey, Antoine, Bunnie, and Tails in its weird mechanical tentacles, but Sonic confuses it by running fast enough to create multiple images of himself, making it drop its prisoners. While the fight is going on, Rotor discovers Snively hiding behind a curtain and definitely not doing anything evil to control the robot. With Bunnie's help, they take down the robot and snag Snively in a net before he can get away.

With the threat neutralized, Sally heads upstairs to see what her old home has become, having not seen it since she was only five years old. The shock of seeing her home in such a state is clearly overwhelming to her.

The comic interrupts itself here unexpectedly to show us a map of Mobius - yes, the entire thing - but we're going to hold off on exploring that until the end so as not to interrupt the flow of the story. Sally begins divvying up various tasks to her Freedom Fighters to focus on the restoration of the city - things like running water, power, etc. - but Geoffrey is nowhere to be found. Turns out he's on a call with King Acorn, whose condition has apparently improved enough that despite his crystallization, he can speak and even give orders. It doesn't seem like his mental state is really in the best of shape, however…

See, this is the trouble with monarchy, guys. I feel like if he was anyone other than The Almighty King, his words would be dismissed as delusional and bordering on fearmongering, but because he is the king and Geoffrey is sworn to his service, Geoffrey actually appears to take his words seriously, even as Dr. Quack encourages the king to lie back down and rest.

Well, since Chuck is such a radical, let's check on what he's doing right now, shall we? As it turns out, the blast from the Ultimate Annihilator restored the free will of every roboticized Mobian when it wiped out their slavemaster. While the others have been taking care of business up above, Chuck has been looking after all the newly-freed roboticized folk. Now that they can think for themselves once again, however, they have a new problem - they all, of course, want their organic forms back, but Chuck has to break the news to them that that's not possible.

Hey, who are those two blue hedgehog-looking dudes at the bottom of those panels? Jules and Bernie, Chuck calls them…

Meanwhile, Sonic and Tails are out on patrol, making sure the city is free of any more surprises like the Dynamac. They encounter a line of swatbots transporting materials into factories like usual, but they complete ignore the pair, causing them to speculate this is another contingency Robotnik had set up to continue without him in the case of his death. They're interrupted by a sudden cry for help, which they follow to its source.

Sonic attempts to help Penelope get Arlo out of his pickle, but isn't quite strong enough, until suddenly one of the roboticized Mobians, a polar bear that Sonic and Tails recognize as Rudyard, arrives to lift the rubble off Arlo. Uncle Chuck shows up with more of the roboticized people, and then… introduces some familiar faces to him.

Ouch.

Sonic races off in blind fury and grief, despite Jules attempting to explain to Sonic that they had asked Chuck to keep the secret from him, and Bernie sends Tails off after him to hopefully calm him down. Chuck in the meantime takes his entourage to speak to Sally, who happily welcomes them back to sentience, though they seem doubtful that things can't go back to being the way they were before.

On a cliff overlooking the city, Sonic rages as Tails arrives, furious that Uncle Chuck would keep such an important fact from his as his parents being alive. Apparently, he had told Sonic right at the beginning of the war that they were "casualties of war," something which I suppose technically rings true, though it was clearly interpreted to mean "dead" by Sonic. (Hey, is anyone else noticing a weird parallel between Sonic and Knuckles' family situations right now?) Tails reasons with him that even if he had known his parents were alive, that wouldn't have necessarily made things easier for him to bear, as Sally knew her father was alive and it ate her up inside. This cheers Sonic somewhat, the thought that Uncle Chuck only did what he did to protect Sonic because he cares for him, and together they head back into the city.

That evening, Sally is sitting and watching over the work her people are doing and remarking to Nicole that it would perhaps be easier to abandon the city and rebuild elsewhere, and as Nicole reassures her who shows up to agree with the computer but Geoffrey? He sits next to her to chat, but Sally notices his attitude and finally speaks up about their potentially blossoming relationship.

At least he takes it well! And at least Sally is finally moving on to someone more her age… Of course, at that moment Sonic shows up, and all he sees is Geoffrey acting like he's about to kiss Sally, so naturally he tackles him to the ground and they each begin attempting to tear the other to shreds in a jealous rage. Sally is for some reason not happy with this turn of events at all, so she gets Bunnie and Antoine to hose them down with a high-powered fire hose, and forces them to shake hands while they glare at each other and whisper through clenched teeth a promise of a later rematch. These two have a really healthy relationship, I feel!

That night, Sally uses Nicole as a sort of video call portal to her father, and we find out that apparently, she's not the one really issuing all the orders here - instead, her father is relaying commands to her that she then carries out under the guise of her own leadership. She's incredibly uncertain about the ethics of lying to her friends about the situation, even though Nicole reminds her it isn't the first time she kept secrets (referring to her secret about Knuckles), and she falls asleep alone and lonely.

The next day, Uncle Chuck hits her with some rather shocking news about the roboticized citizens.

It seems maybe they aren't ready to rejoin society yet after all, unfortunately. The issue ends with one last note on Snively - he's been sent to the Devil's Gulag, which is apparently being run in the same way that Winterhold runs its prison system, with prisoners stranded in their cells on the island and guards only coming to check on them and provide food and water once a week. Geez, man, aren't the people running this thing supposed to be the good guys? That seems incredibly inhumane… Snively isn't pleased with his new living situation at all, and vows quietly from within his own cell to strike back when the time is right. On a side note, we actually see the exact same sign that I pointed out all the way back in StH#18, the one at the entrance to Robotropolis. It's been changed for the new situation, with the "R" in Robotropolis crossed out in favor of an "M", the population of evil doctors changed to 0, and the "0 living beings" changed to "many living beings," which is honestly a really cute way for them to take back their own land. The bit mentioning how many robots there are is unchanged however, which means we really are dealing with over four million roboticized citizens recently having regained their minds and wills. Guess we'll see how that plays out in the future…

Okay, time to take a look at this map of Mobius we've been provided!

I always found it rather funny when fictional planets have to set themselves up to look vaguely like Earth. The Sonic games did it, Steven Universe did it, it's a strangely common trope. I went ahead and checked the scale provided, and my earlier statements about Mobius as a planet being comparable to Earth hold true; it's about the same size as our own planet. As you can see, almost everything relevant takes place in Not-North-America, with Mobotropolis and Knothole being situated in a general area analogous to Texas or perhaps Oklahoma. A lot of the noted areas in the legend are just references to old issues, but some are quite interesting. For example, the Floating Island apparently takes a sinusoidal orbit around the planet - it probably looks a bit less dramatic than that considering this appears to be a Mercator projection map (which means that the size of landmasses further from the equator are inflated), so the path is probably much less curved than it appears here. Quite interestingly, there's a section on the east coast of Not-North-America labeled "Overlander Territory" - we knew already about the Great War between the Mobians and the Overlanders, but now we actually get to see where they've apparently been residing this entire time. There's a few locations labeled for places we haven't seen yet (I'm not sure if this is because they were planning ahead for future issues, or if it's because this issue, despite chronologically taking place now, was published later), such as the Mysterious Cat Country and the Kingdom of Mercia, but the one that stands out most to me is the "lethal radioactive zone" located in the equivalent of modern-day Mongolia. There's no note yet on what exactly caused this area to be lethally radioactive, and I genuinely can't remember if it's addressed specifically in future issues, so I guess we'll just have to see!

[wilderwestking]

Shadows Settle on the Place You Left

The nights on New Berk are warmer than those of its predecessor.

Summer’s long fingers weave their way through the island, braiding crops and flowers and life into everything its nimble hands can touch.

Chief Hiccup Haddock the Third watches over his village, walking through the town and checking the perimeter. He finds no threats but the yearning to patrol on the back of the king of dragons rather than on foot.

At his side, walks his wife, ax hidden beneath a white cloak of fur.

The patrol ends with them, as it always does, at the cliffs of New Berk. Behind them, the lights of the village twinkle as the Hooligans prepare for the night’s rest. Before them, the great ocean spans the horizon. Somewhere, far, far across the sea, the home of the dragons rests.

The chief’s eyes, green as the grass strings of a forest Vættir ’s lyre, watch the waves crash against the rocks below. He tries to hide it from his wife, but she sees as his eyes turn skyward.

There’s a longing in him that neither she nor the earth can grant him.

“You have to stop looking for him,” Astrid soothes, her hand reaching out to clutch at his.

“For who?” Hiccup asks, playing naïve, though he knows it’s a fool’s game.

“Toothless,” She says, and the name sounds like a long-forgotten being of lore more fitted to be scribbled in the sand by Gothi’s sacared staff or carved into the ivory bones that protect her hut than uttered on the lips of the chief’s wife.

Hiccup feels her arms moving up his own to rest on his shoulders. It’s a comforting weight, but he steps out of her embrace, choosing to kneel, alone, at the cliff’s side. Hand moving through the tall grass, he searches intently for something once common and now lost.

“He’s always looked after me,” Hiccup says to her—and maybe himself, “Ever since I was a boy…he’s looked after me. I don’t think it’s ever occurred to him to stop.”

From the grass, he produces a single black scale.

Holding it against the moonlight, the scale shimmers in the darkness.

The scale is freshly shed.

It has to be.

In the weeks following the dragons’ departure, Berk gathered every scale and talon and fang that could be found across the island, hoarding the pieces like precious gems.

Besides, even if the scale avoided the gaze of a Hooligan for the past year, it had not dulled in color or aged with the seasons.

Seeing the scale in her husband’s hand causes something inside Astrid to stir. Pushing it down, she remains stoic. Stable. She knows that she is Hiccup’s rock and she has learned when to steel her own emotions to ensure that his do not overflow like the great waterfall that took his friend from him.

“Snotlout found a Zippleback scale in the grain field a few days ago…It’s just a shed scale, babe.” Astrid says, “He isn’t coming back. He can’tcome back. You know that.”

She steps forward to grip his shoulders. Her grip is too tight and not tight enough.

Hiccup doesn’t respond, and she looks down, noticing how his eyes have left the scale and are trained on the sky once more.

It’s a clear night with few clouds to block the stars. Above them, an entire universe opens. The nine realms are spread out before them and amongst the glittering stars, the Asar Battlefield rages.

She knows he isn’t looking at the luminescent portrait of Thor, but rather, searching for the space of sky blacked out by the great, black wings of the last Night Fury.

Eyes refined by years of combat and dragon riding, she scans the night sky. As always, she sees nothing to quell his pain, and so, she turns her eyes back the earth.

Squeezing his shoulders, she moves to sit beside him, pushing their chiefly cloaks away until her arms are wrapped around his body, enveloping in the comfort she can give.

He leans into her touch, his hands clutching at the black scale as though it was the only thing grounding him.

“You’ve always looked after him too, you know,” Astrid says.

Her response makes him look at her, and she can see the beginnings of tears in the corners of his eyes. She rubs soothing circles along his back, smiling as she speaks in soft whispers. “Think of the battles you’ve fought in for his safety…think of the risks you took for no other reason than Toothless.”

“We used to do some really dangerous stuff,” Hiccup says, voice thick with sadness.

“Praise Freya the two of you didn’t cause me to go grey early.” Astrid jokes and beneath her, Hiccup chuckles softly. It’s a small victory. “Danger or not, you were there for each other.”

“Always.”

“Always.” Astrid agrees. “And you still are, Hiccup. But it has to be different now.”

Her hands move from his shoulders to his face. Holding his head in the palm of her hands, she counts the freckles that drown beneath his tears. His eyes are focused intently on her, so she continues.

“The best way to protect him—to be there for him—is to live your life, Hiccup. Here. On New Berk.”

“I know, Astrid. I know. ” He says and she hears the frustration in his voice. It breaks through the sadness and the nasal snark that comes so naturally to him.

Under her touch, he curls up tighter, retreating into his father’s cloak like a boy. “It just feels like there isn’t a life to live here without him. Not one that I want, at least.”

“Hiccup.” Astrid chides.

“Behind them, the last lights of the village dim as the Hooligans succumb to sleep.

“It’s true.” He says.

Sighing, Astrid leans forward, her lips hovering delicately above his ear causing goosepimples to rise along his arms and the back of his neck.

The chief of Berk stills as his wife whispers in his ear, telling him one of the few things that could send his heart flying in ways to rival his old life.  Tear-stained and dry-lipped, he smiles. Looking up at the face of his wife, he searches for any sign of jest.

Head held lovingly in Hiccup’s hands, Astrid nods to end his silent questioning.

Jubilant, his hands move from her face to her stomach as he kisses her.

Above them, the sky is eclipsed by black wings.

[carmenlire]

Sitting Pretty

Part II to my Mafia AU!

read part I

read on ao3

“Shut the fuck up, Jace.”

Alec’s voice is barely a whisper of air between them. His total concentration is focused on the lock before him. One hand is holding the end of a stethoscope to the vault door while the other turns the combination lock painstakingly slow.

Barely even breathing, he really does not need to listen to Jace try to rap a verse from A Milli under his breath.

Thankfully, Jace stops trying to impersonate his favorite rapper and Alec listens as the last tumbler falls into place with the quietest of snicks.

Alec loops the stethoscope around his neck and with a sharp gesture to Jace, he carefully starts to open the vault door.

Wryly, he reflects that most seventeen year olds probably don’t have their own lock pick kits and they sure as hell couldn’t be found in the private library of one of the most influential judges in the city.

Alec will be eighteen in September but that seems a million years away. It’s a warm June night, the humidity enough so that five minutes outside has his shirt sticking to his back, but he can feel his freedom so close that he can almost taste it.

He hasn’t told his dad about his plans yet. He’s not afraid but he doesn’t relish that conversation either. Robert keeps talking about grooming Alec to follow in his footsteps eventually. This summer is an apprenticeship of sorts and Alec has gone along with it, hoping that it will help soothe ruffled feathers in a few months when he tells his dad that instead of following in the family’s footsteps, he’s been accepted into Columbia’s pre-law program.

So far, his assignments have been small and nothing he hasn’t done before. He might have just graduated from high school but he’s been well-versed in the Lightwood’s business since he was fourteen and just learning the most effective ways to extract information from a particularly tight-lipped source.

Tonight’s assignment is a little more sophisticated, a little more high-stakes. He and Jace-- his adopted brother that the family had taken in almost ten years ago-- had been told to visit Judge Huckley’s townhouse on the Upper West Side and secure a packet of incriminating evidence that the man had on Alec’s father.

They’d dressed as police officers, slipping into the back door unobserved. After spending the afternoon studying the blueprints of the home, they’d made their way to the library on the second floor with careful steps, making sure that they avoided the security cameras Huckley had installed along the hallway.

Gaining entry into the library, Jace had been lookout while Alec went over to the safe hidden behind a Matisse painting. The vault was over a hundred years old and by sheer coincidence, it had been one of the first models he’d ever practiced on.

Most people had soccer practice after school. Alec learned the fine art of lock-picking, among other equally vital skills.

As he opens the door, Alec nods once at Jace and his brother pads quietly into the hallway. Looking through the contents of the safe with a penlight, Alec sees a few pieces of jewelry tucked safely away and a dozen folders. Huckley isn’t due back for quite some time-- they’d watched him leave with his latest mistress almost an hour ago-- so Alec opens the top folder, skimming through the contents.

He knows what he’s found almost immediately.

He takes the folders and lays them on the desk to take with him. Turning back to the safe, he finds the packet with Lightwood scrawled across the front. He opens the packet and takes the first page out to make sure he has whatever Robert needed.

As he sees photographic evidence of his father and one of his underlings disposing of a man Alec knows was a snitch, he nods to himself grimly.

He’s just closing the safe door and spinning the lock back to the precise number that it’d been left at when he hears it.

The front door opens and Alec can hear two sets of footsteps echoing in the foyer.

Jace ducks his head into the library with a panicked look. For being groomed to take over, Alec’s experience out in the field is paltry at best. While he paid attention during his lessons, Alec thought that he’d just have to bide his time on small assignments until he could get the fuck away from the family business and forget just how tarnished its name was.

Jace, for his part, is on the same page. Alec went with him just last week to the ROTC office. His brother wants to be an Air Force Captain one day and Alec knows that neither of them have signed up for this.

Still, Alec learned well at Robert’s knee and he remains calm as he takes a crucial second to process the fly that’s just landed in the ointment.

Grabbing the folders and incriminating evidence, Alec jerks his head toward the balcony. They might have to scale down the wall to the ground but there’s no other choice.

Jace has taken a single step into the library when they both freeze.

There’s the unmistakable sound of someone getting slapped, a pained cry followed by a sickly thud.

“You goddamn whore,” Huckley bellows out from downstairs. “Did you plan this? Do you have any idea how much you humiliated me this evening, in front of my friends and colleagues?”

There’s an indistinct reply before Huckley’s speaking again. His voice is full of rage, full of wounded pride and righteous fury and Alec takes a shaky breath as he listens.

“Judge Huckley, the biggest fucking cuckold in New York City. How many of my friends have you fucked, you scheming bitch? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? Timbers couldn’t keep his eyes off you-- or should I say your tits,” he sneers. “I thought you were a suitable prize to show the boys but it turns out you had your own plans. I saw the way you looked at him, at Foster and Merynthal. You’ve made me the laughingstock of the ninth circuit and I won’t have it.”

There’s the sound of a hand hitting flesh and the woman cries out. Jace and he share wide-eyed looks as a short scream rings throughout the house before it cuts off abruptly. Without thinking, Alec moves forward towards the door, towards Jace.

He’s stopped by Jace’s hand on his chest. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” his brother hisses and Alec glares back.

“Are you kidding me? We can’t just let him kill her, Jace.”

Shaking his head impatiently, Jace replies, “What do you want to do? Run down there and blow this mission? Huckley is twice our age and it sounds like he’s drunk. You can’t take him. You’ll get your ass kicked if he doesn’t outright kill you.”

“Someone has to save her,” Alec hisses and shoves Jace aside to stride down the corridor.

He walks to the entryway staircase, with its wrought iron railing that curves against the wall. At the top of the stairs, he looks down and his gut churns at the scene.

The woman’s dress is torn to shreds, half hanging off her body. Huckley’s a looming shadow standing over her as she tries to cower away. Closer now, Alec can hear her desperate pleas and he flinches as Huckley serves a vicious kick to her midsection that has her folding into herself, whimpering.

“I swear I didn’t do anything,” she whispers and Huckley laughs menacingly before he abruptly bends down and grabs a fistful of her hair, yanking her up to just inches from his face. She gasps for air before choking on her breath, all the while tears fall silently down red cheeks imprinted with stark finger marks.

“I knew you were a fucking slut when I picked you up at that club the first time. I thought you were a smart whore, though, and that you knew better than to play with fire.”

He yanks her closer, seems to get off on her pained yelp. “Do you know what happens when you play with fire, little girl?”

He doesn’t give her a chance to respond before he leans imperceptibly closer and whispers, “You get burned.”

A hand wraps around the woman’s throat and Alec’s learned enough to read the intent in Huckley’s position, in the tension in his arms.

Huckley’s voice wavered in the way a drunk’s does. His movements are violent but the slightest bit unsteady. He’s made up his mind and Alec knows that he has no intention of stopping until she’s dead.

Alec bolts down the stairs. His mind feels a million miles away as he focuses on one thought. He can’t let the judge kill the girl. He has to do something.

Even as panic and fear drown his gut, it’s like everything is razor sharp. There’s a calmness to his movements, an icy focus as he takes the stairs and runs over to the pair.

Without ceremony, he yanks the judge away from the woman. Huckley’s fingers leave scratches along her throat and blood wells up in the shallow tears. She gasps for breath after desperate breath, clawing her way away from the two men.

Alec’s attention barely wavers, though. Huckley wrestles in his grip before getting free. Like a charging bull, he spins around and puts his full force behind a right hook.

Alec ducks just in time and it’s like the red flag’s been waved.

Alec might be young but he hit his latest growth spurt a few months ago. He’s well over six feet tall now but Huckley still towers over him by a few inches and he’s built like a goddamn bulldozer while Alec still has the leanness of youth.

His agility serves him well but it doesn’t take long before he punches Alec in the stomach with a surprisingly sure hit to his solar plexus that makes him feel like his lungs have been wrenched from his chest. He doubles over and Huckley uses that to knee him in the groin.

With a low groan, Alec falls to the floor and he’s barely aware of Huckley turning him over before there are now hands at his throat. Alec chokes on his breath and his hands scramble up to claw futilely at Huckley’s grip.

Alec has been in his share of fights but nothing like this, nothing where the stakes were so fucking high, where the victor claimed his prize by killing his opponent in cold blood.

Vision going grey at the edges, Alec’s not aware of anything but the blood pounding in his ears and as he looks up, his gaze is hopelessly lost in Huckley’s. Moonlight spills through the windows and bathes them both in icy silver.

Alec looks into the eyes of a madman and sees his own death reflected in the unseeing gaze.

He can feel his heart constrict as he tries to take a breath, tries desperately for just one desperate inhale.

In the next minute, though, something comes over him.

Alec will remember this night for the rest of his goddamn life and the next few minutes are seared onto his fucking soul like the most stubborn of stains.

With a shaking arm, he has just enough strength left to raise it to Huckley’s face. He pushes his thumb into Huckley’s eye, and feels Huckley’s bellow of confused pain deep in his chest. He keeps going. Alec doesn’t give up and his focus is entirely on this one simple task.

He feels the give of the eye and almost immediately, blood starts pouring down Huckley’s face, dripping onto Alec.

Huckley’s grip slackens and Alec pulls away, takes a greedy gulp of air that has nausea building in his throat. He’s gasping, reaching for great lungfuls of merciful oxygen and Alec doesn’t know if it’s the rage or the alcohol or the madness still clouding the judge but Huckley lunges for him again.

The next few minutes are full of grunts and whimpers and wheezing breaths. Flesh hitting flesh and guttural groans echo in the foyer as blood stains the once pristine marble floor. Alec lands more hits than he takes, however, and as he straddles Huckley, he keeps punching the man with all his might, losing himself in the rhythmic pattern.

Huckley lies prone but Alec can still taste the edge of terror that had gripped him, still sees his death lingering just out of reach and he can’t stop. Barely aware of it, Alec reaches a bloodstained hand with scraped knuckles around Huckley’s throat and leans down.

He sees awareness in the judge’s one good eye, a light of recognition.

Hovering over the judge, Alec meets his gaze and now he sees what he must have looked like just a few moments before. He sees the gut-wrenching terror as Huckley faces his own mortality at Alec’s own hand.

For his part, Alec doesn’t feel anything right now except bone-shuddering relief and blazing goddamn satisfaction.

“The Lightwoods send their regards,” he says softly and then he breaks Huckley’s neck, relishing the snap of bone and tendon.

The hall falls silent except for Alec’s great, heaving breaths. Someone touches his shoulder and he jerks back, falling on his ass.

Huckley is a still body beside him.

Looking up, he sees Jace watching him carefully. Neither man moves and Alec’s mind feels wrapped in cotton. Now that the fight is over, it’s like someone’s cut his strings and he collapses, suddenly out of energy.

A whimper cuts through the silence though and Alec’s head snaps up to see the woman still in the house, looking at him with wide eyes full of fear.

He lurches to standing and Jace doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything as Alec takes the few halting steps over to her. She whimpers, and tries to crawl back but Alec reaches her in just a second.

Crouching down, he catalogs the cuts on her cheek and the tear stains that reflect the moonlight.

He reaches a hand out and runs a careful finger over the dark finger marks on her neck, already bruising blue.

The woman watches him and distantly, Alec wonders that she isn’t breathing, that her chest isn’t even moving.

He raises his eyes from her neck to her eyes. There’s a moment, brief but bare where they just study each other.

“If you ever tell anyone who was here, I will find you and those will be the last words you ever speak. Understand?”

She nods once and Alec echoes the gesture before he smiles, just a little. “Leave.”

Scrambling up, the woman stumbles toward the back door. Alec watches dispassionately as she stumbles and trips, falling down onto her knees before she gathers herself up and flees into the night.

Alec stands and his vision wavers. Turning around, his gaze snags on the body and he freezes.

“Oh God, Jace,” he whispers, staring at Huckley. “What did I do?”

His knees give out and Alec falls hard to the marble floor but he doesn’t feel the impact as he studies the judge laying on the ground, neck twisted and face grotesque.

He can’t breathe.

Alec’s barely aware of the wrenching gasps he’s taking as he tries desperately to get some goddamn air to his lungs. It feels like his chest is on fire as he look at the man’s he’s just killed.

His eyes fall down to his hands and he sees dried blood under the nails and palms stained red.

Choking, Alec bends over and throws up right onto the floor. It feels like his organs are trying to escape and he viciously wants to cleanse himself.

I’ve never killed a man before, Alec thinks dully. I’m a murderer.

On his hands and knees, Alec heaves up everything until he’s spitting up stomach acid.

He doesn’t startle this time when he feels Jace lay a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t look up, though.

Jace gently guides him until he’s sitting up and Alec watches him with glazed eyes.

Jace wipes his mouth and leans forward until their foreheads are touching. Neither one says anything and Jace takes a shuddering breath before he pulls away and catches Alec’s eyes.

He stares into Alec’s goddamn soul.

“You did what you had to,” his brother says hoarsely. “You saved that woman and you killed Huckley out of self defense. He didn’t give you a choice.”

Taking a bracing breath, Jace seems to bolster himself before he continues. “You need to leave,” he says slowly, making sure that Alec understands.

Alec frowns and starts shaking his head. “I can’t leave--”

“Alec,” Jace cuts in sharply. “Take the folders and the evidence and go home. Give them to Robert and take a shower. Burn your clothes. Listen to whatever else he has to say. Let me deal with this.”

“I can’t ask you to--”

“You’re not asking me,” Jace stubbornly replies. “I will clean the house up and set it to rights. I will dispose of the body.” Ignoring Alec’s flinch, he continues, “You’re my brother. Nothing’s changed with that. Let me do this, Alec.”

Let me take care of you is what Alec hears and he’s quiet for a minute, studying Jace before he finally nods.

“Thank you,” he replies hoarsely.

Jace pulls him into a bone crushing hug and Alec wraps his own arms around him mechanically.

He feels a piece of himself knit back into place at the embrace.

“I love you, Alec. I will stand by you, no matter what.”

Pulling back, Alec nods once before he climbs to his feet, Jace following.

He stares down at Huckley’s body and as nausea builds again, he swallows hard. He makes himself study the corpse and sears every detail onto his memory.

This is what I’m capable of, Alec thinks.

He backs away and heads toward the floor where he’d dropped the papers. Grabbing them all up, Alec tries to ignore just how badly his hands are shaking.

Looking at Huckley one last time, Alec turns his back to the scene, to Jace taking off his coat and rolling up his sleeves.

He leaves through the front door and doesn’t look back again.

It doesn’t take long to get home and Alec goes directly to Robert’s office. He sees the light on and pushes the door open, letting it swing until he sees his father bent over paperwork at his imposing desk.

Looking up, Robert opens his mouth before he shuts it close with a snap.

“What happened,” he asks briskly.

So, Alec tells him. The room is silent as Alec explains about the woman and the madness lurking in Huckley’s eyes, and his own desperate need to survive.

Robert listens without interruption until Alec winds down. There’s a few moments of silence before Robert stands.

“You got the file I needed, I assume?”

Nodding dully, Alec holds it out along with the dozen other folders.

“Huckley seemed to be blackmailing a few people. I found these files in his safe. From what I’ve seen, there’s at least one senator and the owner of a shipping company on his list.”

Robert takes everything, tapping it against his palm a few times as he considers his heir.

Finally, he brings a hand onto Alec’s shoulder. Desperately, Alec tries not to flinch away.

“I’m proud of you, son,” he says as he releases Alec and turns back to his desk to settle in his chair.

He stares out the window as he continues, “I remember my first kill. I was nineteen and I found out that the bastard had been doctoring the books and skimming some of my money-- some of our money-- from the till. He never saw it coming.”

Robert’s voice is bemused, proud as he tells Alec about it. Alec feels sick.

Straightening in his seat, Robert flips open the folder about the Lightwoods and starts reading. Absently, he remarks, “Go take a shower and dispose of your clothes. I’ll send a man around to make sure that Jace did a thorough enough job and we won’t mention this again.”

He looks up at Alec and smiles a little. “I was worried, you know,” Robert admits softly. “I didn’t know if you had it in you. I wondered if you had the skills and stomach to take over one day. I’m glad to see that my fear was for nothing.”

Robert dismisses him the next minute and Alec turns on his heel and makes his way to his bedroom.

He strips out of his clothes and lights the fireplace that has him sweating almost immediately in the June heat. He watches as flames devour his blood-stained clothes, as they erase the evidence of what he’s done.

Heading towards the bathroom, Alec turns the water on before stepping into the shower. He doesn’t know how long he stays under the scalding spray but he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs at his skin until it’s raw, until it’s painful, until he can’t feel anything but the burn from the water and the soap.

He can’t get clean, though. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be clean again.

It’s a few days later when Alec comes home from the library. He’s been spending as much time as he can alone, away from everyone and everything he knows. He doesn’t want to be around anything familiar, feels like he’s tainting things by his mere presence.

The library is his safe haven, even if he has to pretend that he doesn't see Jace across the room standing sentry with worried eyes.

Climbing up the stairs, Alec’s exhausted. Opening his bedroom door, he kicks it shut behind him and freezes when he sees the gift laying in the middle of his bed.

He walks over and picks up the box with the accompanying card.

Alexander is scrawled across the front.

He flips open the card and his soul lurches at the note. Somehow, he’s not surprised.

My son,

The first kill is a rite of passage for the men in our family. His death marks your ascension to manhood and what a man you’re turning out to be.

I hope you like the watch and that every time you check the time, you’re reminded of the pride a father has for his son and your capability as the future head of this family and its empire.

You will be king one day, Alec, and I know you’ll do a spectacular job of it.

I’m proud of you, Robert

Alec blinks furiously before he opens the box and sees a silver Rolex staring up at him. The watch cost a fortune and Alec laughs a little, hysterical, and such a gift.

If he’d only known what he’d have to do to get something so exorbitant.

Taking the watch out, he slips it onto his wrist. It’s heavy, seems to weigh more than it should.

It fits perfectly and gleams against his arm. Shivering a little, Alec swallows hard.

He likes it.

Moving over to the window, Alec stares down at at a bustling New York. He’s not stupid, is well aware that the Lightwoods have dwelt in the shadows for decades. He’s the latest in a long line of men who have been groomed to take over such a dynasty.

Alec had thought that he was almost free, though. He wanted to be a lawyer. He wanted the sunlight.

He’s so cold that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be warm again.

With a sigh, something hardens in his chest. This is his life. This is who he was always meant to be.

He knows now that there was never any hope of escaping, that something dark lingers in his chest and clouds his soul.

Huckley was a vicious, heartbreaking lesson but Alec’s learned it well. It wouldn’t do to chafe against tradition.

He sent his regrets to Columbia’s admissions office just that morning.

There’s grief but Alec can’t help but remember those seconds of satisfaction he’d felt before he snapped Huckley’s neck. There’d been pride there before the devastation and Alec knows enough to know that most people wouldn’t have felt that.

Jace finds him a few hours later, still standing in front of the window.

Alec looks up and Jace sucks in a harsh breath before moving over to stand next to him.

Staring over the city-- his city one day-- Alec murmurs, “Did you mean it when you said you’d always stand by me?”

From his peripheral, he sees Jace’s eyes close and his expression looking mournful for a split second before he opens his eyes and meets Alec’s steady gaze.

“I did,” he says somberly. “You’re my brother and my best friend. I’ll always be by your side.”

Alec stares into eyes he knows as well as his own before he blinks once, slowly, and turns to look back out the windows.

“Then, this is our life now,” he murmurs. “And what a life it will be.”

Over the next few months as New York sinks into summer, Alec takes on increasing responsibility. Robert lets him in and Alec learns more in three months than he had in the previous five years.

His assignments become more dangerous and Alec watches life trickle from men with increasing frequency. He’s put through his paces as he becomes intimately acquainted with what it means to look into a man’s eyes and snuff out his life.

September rolls around and Alec turns eighteen. With it, he takes on even more responsibility and his days start to follow a routine.

Alec doesn’t feel anything, though. He does what he’s assigned and he learns the ropes and he watches his father, cataloging all the mistakes he sees and making a list of what he’ll change when he takes over one day.

He doesn’t expect to so soon.

A few weeks after his birthday, Alec walks into Robert’s office and sees his life change once again at the hands of a dead man.

Robert’s throat is slit ear to ear in a grotesque simile of a smile. His father’s eyes are unseeing and Alec walks over mechanically and sees the note pinned to his chest.

Nobody steals what’s mine. Consider this a warning, young Lightwood, that you don’t follow too closely in your father’s footsteps.

It’s not signed and Alec doesn’t have time to figure out who did this before he’s calling for the only person he can think of.

Jace comes running into the office and stumbles to a stop at the scene.

“It looks like Robert took on more than he could chew,” Alec says coldly. “I need you to dispose of his body and get a few people in here to clean this place up.”

Jace nods once and steps closer to lay a hand on Alec’s shoulder.

Stiffening, Alec shrugs out of Jace’s grasp. He stares at what remains of his father as he says, “I’m fine, Jace. I believe I gave you orders?”

There’s the barest beat of silence before Jace replies softly, “Yes, sir.”

Nodding once, Alec leaves the office and goes all the way to his bedroom before he slumps against the closed door.

He doesn’t know who killed his dad but he needs to find out. He needs to tell his men-- no longer his dad’s employees but his own.

Distantly, he thanks God that Izzy is away at boarding school in London at that by a stroke of fate-- which might not have been so coincidental at all-- Max and his mother are visiting her for a few weeks.

Alec gets through the next few months in a blur. He becomes the leader his father always pushed for and his men fall in line with barely a hitch.

He takes over operations and acquires an Athletic Club to use as a front, selling the townhouse and its memories in the process. He works around the clock and shores up relationships and alliances with those who think he’s too young and too vulnerable or too inexperienced to take over the Lightwood Empire.

He proves them all wrong. He oversees construction on the club and makes investments all over the city. More often than not, Alec sleeps in the bedroom he’d fortified at the gym and he makes so many decisions that his head’s dizzy with it.

He spends what little free time he has looking for his father’s murderer. Alec might not have loved the man but in this business, slights can never go unnoticed or unavenged. Alec needs to retain his father’s power and build his own and he can only do that by finding the person who killed Robert and making an example of them.

Alec throws himself into business and doesn’t look back.

A year later, Alec’s sitting in his office looking over his arms dealing profits for the month when there’s a knock on his door.

Bringing the glass of whiskey up to his mouth, he sighs before taking a lingering sip. If it’s not one thing it’s another and Alec’s job is never goddamn done.

He looks down at his watch, at the shining reminder that keeps steady time, and frowns a little.

“Come in,” he calls and settles back in his seat as he sees Jace enter.

“He’s waiting for you,” his brother and right hand man says.

Standing, Alec nods once. “Thanks, Jace. Has he given anything up yet?”

Jace shakes his head. “He refuses to say anything about the lead we’ve found. He’s all yours, man.”

Alec smiles and its glacial. “Well, then, let’s get to the party,” he murmurs and moves to leave the room.

Before he can though, Jace is stopping him with an arm across his chest.

Alec looks up at Jace with a raised brow, not saying anything.

“There are rumours floating around about Bane and I think we need to talk about them first.”

Shrugging out of Jace’s hold, Alec reaches for the door.

“As long as Bane stays out of my way, I’m leaving him be. I have bigger things to worry about than an emerging rival.”

“You’re not worried that he’s going to unseat you? That he’s taking over from his father and by the rumours, doing a damned good job of it?”

Exasperated, Alec rolls his eyes. “He hasn’t come after me yet and until he makes a move, I refuse to split my men even further. I’m still on a shaky foundation, Jace, and I can’t afford to throw my focus onto a man who might never become an issue.”

Jace opens his mouth but Alec stops him with a firm look. “Leave it, Jace,” he says sternly.

He waits a beat to make sure that Jace won’t disagree further before he turns toward the door and heads to one of his interrogation rooms.

Bane was a big name in the underworld but Alec can’t pay him any mind when he’s still trying to figure out who killed his father, when he's still establishing his own rule.

He’s started hearing whispers about his perceived weakness and Alec can’t afford for those to go undefended. He needs something fast and the man currently waiting to be questioned was almost guaranteed to have the answer.

Alec rolls up his sleeves as he strides down the corridor.

He’s relaxed with the quiet authority his men admire shown in his graceful steps. Alec’s the king of his little corner of the world and the next few hours are more of the same.

What a difference a year makes, he thinks wryly and looks down at his watch in reflex, unaware of even doing so.

He nods to the guard stationed outside the door and the man opens it for him as Alec steps smoothly through it.

The man chained to the chair in the middle of the cement floored room looks up on autopilot before he freezes.

He knows that Lightwood has a reputation. He’s heard the whispers and shrinks back in his seat as his chest lurches in fear.

Alec Lightwood stares at him with cold eyes and an icy smile that shows just how unbothered he is by what’s about to happen. With an almost imperceptible nod, another guard rolls a cart laden with tools to the middle of the room.

What he sees on it has the man choking in terror, trying desperately to wrench himself from the chair.

Alec watches his expression with an amused smile and reaches for one of the knives lined up neatly in its tray.

“Now, Randall, I have a few questions. . .”

[firewritten]

Children of the Shadows

Estelle had seen the fire in the woods from her bedroom window three nights in a row. It was out there now, orange and red under the silver light of the moon. The firelight flickered between the trees. She didn’t hear nothing, no roaring or crackling, and she’d gone out during the day to look and the underbrush hadn’t been burnt and there weren’t any marks on the trees at all.

Her granny had told her to never go in the woods alone at night. She said there were bad things out there, evil things that would gobble a little girl right up.

Estelle didn’t pay her no mind.

She eased out of her bed. Wouldn't do to wake anybody up. Granny would wear her out if she found her wandering around after bed time.

At school they’d said that the fire was the sign of the devil, that he was gonna come get Estelle and eat her all up, and her granny too. She'd told them about the shadows she’d seen slipping between the trees and around the flames, and they'd said that was the demons, great big awful scaly things with pointy tails and huge teeth and only one yellow eye that they shared between them, and that the demons would come in her house on the seventh night and take her and her granny to the devil himself.

The shadows were small, far too small to be big scaly lizard demons. Estelle didn't hold any account with the old fishwife tales they told at school.

Douglas at school had told her about the demons. He was always stealing her pencils and knocking her books off her desk when he walked by.

He’d cornered her at recess, his group of big dumb boys in tow. He’d said that her granny was trash, that her family was dirt poor good for nothings and everyone knew it, and that's why the demons had come for her.

She’d stood up to him. She'd said “The fire came to me because I’m special. It’s too pretty for the likes of you. I bet if you came up to the holler one night the shadows would disappear soon as they smelled you!”

Douglas didn't like that, not one little bit. His face had got all red, and his eyes flashed. Then he’d spit at her.

Mrs. Clarke had pulled Estelle off him. She'd said that weren't no way for a young lady to behave.

“But teacher, he called my family trash and he spit on me!” Estelle had been crying from fury, snot everywhere.

“Now, Estelle, you know how that’s boys are. You go to the bathroom clean yourself up. Your granny will hear about this.”

Granny had heard about it, and she’d been proud of Estelle for fighting back. Estelle didn't tell her about the firelight and the shadows in the woods. She didn’t tell her how the fight had gotten started.

Estelle slowly opened the door. She’d never snuck out at night before. The moon was near about full, and her front yard seemed eerie and strange in the light.

She turned towards the woods, stepping carefully, watching for any twigs. She had to be silent. Granny might have forgiven her for punching Douglas, but she wouldn't forgive sneaking out and going into the woods alone at night.

The fire sure was pretty. She saw tendrils of it peeking between the trees, orange and red between the silver and black.

She saw the small shadows around the fire. This close up, she could see that they looked human, with legs and arms and heads.

They looked like kids. Like her.

She wasn't watching where she was going anymore. She about jumped out of her skin when she stepped on a fallen branch. The crack was so loud she swore they could have heard it in town. Surely her granny would have heard it.

She looked back toward the house. It was still dark. Nothing moved. Granny didn’t come storming out the door, ready to drag her back in and whoop her. She was safe.

Estelle turned back towards the fire. All the child-sized shadows were looking back at her.

Her heart jumped up in her throat and she couldn't breathe. She tried to calm down. If she was going to go to hell, she’d go proudly and standing up on her own two feet.

One of the shadows reached out to her. Its hand was dark and murky.

She looked into the face of the child-sized shadow. It seemed to smile at her. She took the hand, which felt cold and not quite all there, and then she was pulled into the shadow dance.

Her legs moved on their own. She spun around and around the fire, slipping between the trees just like she’d seen the shadows do from her bedroom window. The fire didn't give off heat. It didn't crackle and snap like the fire in the fireplace at home. It was so pretty though, all them reds and yellows.

She danced and danced. The shadows swirled around her, the fire glowed and gave off silent sparks, and she was so tired and cold but her feet kept moving. She couldn't stop for nothing. The shadows kept smiling at her though, and somehow she smiled back.

The second that the sun peeked over the horizon, the fire winked out and the shadows melted away.

Estelle fell to her knees, finally freed from the dancing. She just wanted to go to sleep right there, but she knew that she'd better get home before Granny got up. She didn't have much time. Granny got up with the sun.

She ran to the edge of the yard, and then snuck in the house quiet as a church mouse, avoiding all the noisy places in the floor. She managed to get in her bed and get the quilt pulled up over her just before Granny started moving around.

She couldn't hardly keep her eyes open at school. Douglas might have tried to say something to her, but everything was foggy and far away. She just wanted to lay her head down on her desk and sleep. But she didn't, because she didn't want Granny to hear about that.

Finally it was over, and she went home. She managed to do her chores somehow, and eat dinner. Granny didn't notice how she was dragging. It was canning season, so she had other things to do.

Estelle got in bed before it was dark, and fell dead asleep.

Until the moon rose, and the fire started. Her eyes opened, and then she was dressed and out in the yard and through the woods before she knew what was going on.

She danced with the shadows all that night and the next and the next.

Douglas said she was stupid and that she’d always be trash, and that's why she hadn't done her homework. She didn't even have the energy to hit him. She just glared at him, but she didn't think the glare worked that well what with not being able to keep her eyes open.

Finally, on the seventh night, her legs so sore that she didn't think she could dance another second, the shadows spoke to her.

“You are our friend now”, one said. It may have been the one that reached out to her that first night she came out here.

And then the shadows...changed.

The child-sized shadows split and burst open and their bits fell to the ground. In their place was things with scales. And pointy tails. And really really big teeth. And no eyes. Except one.

The one that had spoken to her took a yellow eye from one of the others and stuck the eye in its face. It looked at her. She might have been scared if she weren't so tired.

“Little girl, you have danced with us and kept us company, and so we have decided not to take you back to hell with us. However, we must have one child soul, or the boss will be really mad at us and he won't give us our dinner. And we get mighty hungry, you know, and it hurts real bad.”

The thing's voice was dark and deep and it vibrated in her bones. She understood that it wasn't going to take her to hell, and that was good, and she just wanted to go home and sleep now.

“Little girl, do you know another child we could take back with us?”

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

Later, they found her in the woods. Granny was too worried about her to yell, especially in front of all those people, but Estelle knew later she might get wore out with a hickory branch for going out to the woods alone and getting lost all night. But that was later, and now she was in her bed, and there were no shadows, no cold silent fire.

She rested, and slept, and dreamed.

When she went back to school, Douglas wasn't there. The other kids said that the ground had opened up and swallowed him down, that if you went to his house you could still smell the sulphur in the yard.

The teacher told them to be quiet and to stop talking nonsense, and that they'd better be careful themselves what with all these children disappearing, and she gave Estelle a long look.

Estelle grinned.

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

@aslaugblom, @lady-redshield-writes, @sirilikestowrite, @ratracechronicler, @sorae-mina

Yay a short story I can tag people in! :) I’ve been too ashamed to add the tag list the last two weeks.

[d3throned]

/ 2016 ... @hebijeeb

the last time he'd been here, it'd been for high school graduation. the sleek buildings had been adorned with a ridiculously large banner that read, “congratulations, seniors!,” and the clean, fake grass had been littered with colorful confetti and smeared flower petals, remnants of oversized bouquets. someone had lost a cap; everyone had found laughter. even he, who had struggled in keeping his head from exploding for the last three years, had had a smile stretched across his excited face. 

today’s unplanned visit is not so much of a happy occasion. in fact, happy is probably the last emotion he’d say he’s feeling right about now. irritation? yes. anger? yes. an overwhelming sensation of protectiveness and the urgent need to smash someone’s face in? a definite yes. they say violence is never the answer, and it’s a life lesson that he’s uttered behind his father’s back for years, but as all sayings go, it’s qualified. violence is not always the answer, but sometimes, it works. and hwanhee knows exactly who he wants to inflict his wrath on.   

fists swing by his sides as he briefly hesitates, then strides onto a campus that he hasn’t been back to in four years. not much has changed—maybe some family has paid to have the gardens more well-kept?—but he feels like a foreigner, uninvited in the young aura of high school teens and in the white noise of unbridled, immature chatter. the kids stare as he passes them in hallways, finding his way to classroom 3-1. and of course they stare. his absence of uniform makes him stick out like a sore thumb. he might as well be holding up a sign: i’m gonna make a scene and you probably want to come watch because it’s gonna be the talk of the day. 

“who is that?” 

“hey, isn’t that one of the kang brothers?” 

“which one?”

“wait, you mean kang rieon’s brother?”

like the calm before a storm, there’s a moment when everyone seems to freeze in place before the hurried rush to follow his footsteps. students trail behind him as if in a trance. because if there’s one thing that high schoolers love more than not being in school, listening to the drone of teachers who emphasize nothing but getting accepted into a prestigious university, it’s drama. hwanhee knows it all too well: his baby sister is basically the god-given definition of drama. a wild mix of recklessness, exaggeration, and mock tragedy. of laughter and tears, of bad decisions and worse ones, of trickery and sweet-talk, all in one package. 

oh, she’s a goddamn hell of a mess, but she’s his mess. 

and he’s here to take out the trash. 

talk explodes all at once as hwanhee shoves the door open with his foot, hands stuck in his pockets, wood hitting wall with a loud bang. all twenty-two kids turn to stare. there’s silent anger laced in the name he utters, a name that he’d ground into his teeth with a taut jaw just the night before when he’d heard the inappropriate and graphic slander about rieon. 

“lee junwoo. which one of you is lee junwoo?”

admittedly, this isn’t one of his best ideas. given his high profile, being the center of attention is hardly a smart move. a fight? even worse. at his entire time at saebom, he’d never been the cause of a brawl. and as the most responsible one of the kang siblings, hwanhee rarely ever stirs up trouble, not at this large of a scale. 

but there’s an extent to how much he can take of listening to a couple of bitter assholes shaming his sister over illegal drinks at a bar.

hwanhee leans against the board, sweeping his gaze over the crowd, barely keeping his quiet fury under control. “don’t make me fucking ask again.” 

[rogerblackwolf]

沼の主

Numa no omo

'The Lord of the Swamp'

Ramree Island, Burma (modern day Myanmar)

-February 8-17, 1945-

"January 20th, 1945

The Empire of Japan knew no bounds when World War II began. By 1938 the Japanese flag flew over the lands of China, Mongolia, and Manchuria. Japan's Imperial Army then invaded French Indo-China, the Dutch East Indies, and Burma. In the Pacific the Imperial Navy was undisputed as it claimed all between the Philippines and Gilbert Islands. For a time we were unstoppable, none could face the might of Japan, even the United States was not spared our might as nearly all US ships were destroyed or severely crippled at Pearl Harbor. In doing so, we only sealed our fate by unleashing the fury of a sleeping giant. At the battle of Midway, we lost four of our six carriers and for the first time we were being pushed back by an enemy driven by a warrior spirit comparable to our own."

The rumble of heavy artillery interrupted the man writing as the shockwaves loosened dirt and dust from the tunnel ceiling and walls. Only one kind of gun could shake the tunnels so violently, Naval guns. A young man dressed in the uniform of the Imperial Japanese Army came into the room and saluted before he spoke. 

"Gunso (Sergeant), Nagazawa Taisa (Colonel) wants to have a word about the coming battle. He is at forward command." The young soldier said, his Arisaka Type 38 rifle at his side.

"Thank you Nitohei (Private), I will be there shortly."

The man closed his journal, stowing it in his pack next to the table he was sitting at, before he went to find the commander. As he travelled the maze of tunnels, getting saluted by the other soldiers he passed, he finally came to a calmer portion of the tunnels. Here he saw several other officers around a table lit with an overhanging light that flickered every so often, as well as a radio man in the corner trying to intercept the enemy radio signals with some success.

"Nagazawa Taisa, Masuda Ryuzo Gunso reporting as ordered sir." The man said with a salute.

"At ease." The Colonel said saluting the Sergeant. Ryuzo came over to the table and noticed the plans of the island, as well as the markings of the enemy landing force off the coast. 

"The Allies will bombard us first with their naval guns, their planes have already taken over the skies, and tomorrow they will land their troops. A full division." Colonel Nagazawa said as he outlined the map with his finger.

"We number only one thousand men. Against such a force, we stand little chance of victory." One officer says.

"We can. We have a more defensible position." Another spoke up.

"But we are outgunned, what the enemy will not be able to gain in manpower they will use their naval guns to lay siege." A third added.

"Taisa. By chance we are forced to retreat...what is our plan?" Ryuzo asked the Colonel.

The Colonel pointed to the mangrove swamps.

"If we lose the town of Ramree, and our base is overrun we retreat through the swamps. I will take responsibility for the defeat. I ask only for you all to have faith in our Emperor." Colonel Nagazawa says.

"Hai." All the officers responded.

After roughly another hour or so the officers were dismissed to their quarters. Ryuzo stayed up for a time before he dozed off, remembering his home in Okinawa, his wife soon became the focus of his dreams. The thought of him returning to her gave him a warmth in this cold and harsh reality.

Over the following weeks the Japanese garrison were pushed back to the town of Ramree, where they attempted to hold but on February 7th they were outflanked and forced to retreat through the swamps. Many of the units were scattered during the retreat, many more were falling behind as they trudged through the thick mangrove trees. But soon the shame of defeat was replaced with terror as the units came under attack by a new enemy.

Many in Sergeant Ryuzo's unit were taken by scaled beasts in the water. A flash of scales, a splash of water, and blood being all that was left of his men. The days and nights were filled with gunfire and death cries as throughout the swamp crocodiles feasted on the men of the garrison. And despite Ryuzo's best efforts, he could only watch as many of his men were devoured by these voracious beasts. Luckily, Ryuzo and his men met up with another unit led by a sergeant named Haida Itashi. The two sergeants now had roughly forty men at their command, but these men were exhausted, starving, and the crocodiles were still a problem. Ryuzo pulled out a map and showed it to Haida.

"Where did you say you got separated from the main unit?"

"About here. The enemy is trying to block the streams leading to the coast, but this one is still open. The Colonel radioed the mainland, they're going to send rescue crafts." Haida said drawing invisible lines with his finger.

"If we cut through these trees, with luck we'll regroup with the main unit. Let's move!" Ryuzo shouts, folding the map and leading the forty men unit through the new path. Several minutes passed before the unit came under attack again, a bask of crocodiles emerged from the trees swimming towards the rear of the unit. The men began firing with some rounds hitting only to anger the beasts as they each took a man.

"Aim for the weak spot, behind their eyes where the neck meets the skull!" Haida shouted as he killed one by hitting the spot.

Ryuzo followed suit as did his men as they began to hold their ground. As quickly as it started the beasts were gone, leaving pools of blood in their wake. Without time to breath, Ryuzo ordered the unit to move once more. Five men were lost in the attack but fortunately as they took the shortcut the crocodiles stopped their pursuit. Night had fallen when the unit decided to take a short rest, the men were exhausted from the trek and their rations were low as well, Ryuzo still checked his men despite being exhausted himself.

One in particular, a Nitohei named Kaito Ikehara, started to struggle, he was the youngest among them and all he had left was the tasteless crackers from his rations. Ryuzo offered him half of his rice which he reluctantly accepted, they even began to chat about their homeland. Both were from Okinawa, although from different towns the two men shared stories that made them feel at ease. Stories like how their fathers worked as fishermen before conscription made everyone sign up for the war and Kaito even admitted that he had a crush on a girl but still couldn't find the courage to confess. Ryuzo gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder before he continued eating, every so often the sound of gunfire in the distance made everyone alert and the screams would haunt them forever.

An hour passed before Ryuzo and Haida got everyone up to move and it didn't take long before they stumbled upon something else. The unit passed multiple skeletons and mutilated corpses of crocodiles, many either half eaten or simply ripped apart and crushed. Both sergeants couldn't explain what was capable of such carnage, plus the thickets of mangrove trees were bent and in some spots snapped or flattened to create new trails for something big. 

"That's why they stopped chasing us." Haida said

"This place is a killing ground." Ryuzo added. He also noticed the men were on edge, but he assured them that they were close to the rally point, just a few more miles.

The unit could hear faint engines in the distance, Haida ordered a couple of men to some high ground to get a better view. Ryuzo placed his foot on what felt like a tree root, as in the waist deep water he couldn't really tell, and steadied his Type 38 on a low branch. Another soldier, noticing a partially submerged log, placed his Type 97 sniper rifle on it and scanned the area in front of the unit. The rest of the men also slowly climbed onto the moss covered high ground, but it felt too hard to be a sandbar.

The man with the Type 97 suddenly felt something off, he placed his hand on a knot only for it to flex and blow air at his hand. The log then began to move and rise, the soldier looked at the thicker part of the log and another knot opened revealing a large reptilian eye. Ryuzo's root suddenly shifted knocking him back, the high ground also shifted making several men fall into the water as the large creature revealed itself. Fifty feet of armored scales, a row of spines down the center of the back, legs like tree trunks, and a long triangular jaw filled with teeth the size of shortswords, the enormous crocodile shook its head side to side before lifting it skyward to let out a bellowing roar that filled the men with terror.

The first strike was at the sniper, a swiping chomp sprayed the men with blood as the man was devoured in one gulp.

"OPEN FIRE!" Haida yelled.

Every man with a rifle and machine gun focused their fire at the beast only to have the bullets ricochet off it's armored hide. Ryuzo got off a shot before dodging a foot that splashed him with water and mud, the beast opened its jaws scooping up two men and devoured them in seconds. A man armed with a Type 96 machine gun fired at the crocodile's side while trying to reload the tail swung his direction, sending him flying above the trees, his scream drowned out by the chaos of men trying to run and shoot. 

While Ryuzo was reloading his rifle he noticed that the beach was no more than a couple hundred yards away.

"The Beach! Everyone to the Beach!" He shouted. The men nearest followed orders and began running for the beach, Haida was helping his men over the roots as the monster thrashed and snapped it's jaws.

Ryuzo tried to reach him but Haida shouted

"Get to the beach! I'll cover you!" As he picked up a discarded Type 96 machine gun and drew the crocodile's attention.

Ryuzo followed his men but turned back just to see the crocodile devouring Sergeant Itashi, even clasped between the beast's jaws he stabbed with his bayonet before his body went limp, his fight done.

Ryuzo regrouped with his men on the beach and watched the last of the rescue craft disappear into the distance. Despite this, he took a headcount seeing he only had fifteen men left. A roar from the swamps, followed by the sound of trees being crushed and shifted, made the men turn towards the trees. 

Ryuzo looked around the beach, noticing several foxholes, he hatched a plan. Five men were placed in a foxhole, bayonets fixed, ready to face the beast. The first trees landed on the beach like crashing thunder, the earth shook under the great beast's foot falls, and the men shuddered from the sound of it's roar. 

"Fire!" Ryuzo ordered, the men focused their fire at the beast but it didn't stop as it went for the nearest foxhole. Two men were devoured, a third was crushed under its foot, and the last two were ripped apart. One man threw a grenade that landed next to the creature, the beast actually recoiled in pain but it seemed more angry than before. As the crocodile charged the next hole everyone scattered, but with a swing of it's jaws three men were scooped into its maw. Another two were crushed under its foot, one man charged the beast sticking it with his bayonet but a whip of the tail broke the man with a sickening crunch. The beast turned to the remaining four men and lunged, missing the group, as it turned to grab one man, Ryuzo turned to Kaito.

"I'll distract it, you run."

"But-" Kaito protested.

"Don't question me, just run." Ryuzo said.

Ryuzo turned to see his final man get devoured, the crocodile then faced him. He fired his shots in quick succession to no effect, in frustration Ryuzo threw his rifle like a spear embedding it in the crocodile's shoulder. A bellow of pain was heard before it grabbed the rifle in its jaw and snapped it with ease. Ryuzo drew his final weapon, his sword, and took a stance as the beast slowly walked towards him. Kaito got to the treeline and found a Type 96 machine gun with an extra magazine, quickly he loaded the gun as he saw Sergeant Ryuzo dodge and slice futilely at the crocodile. He took aim as Sergeant Ryuzo was thrown a few feet away, landing on a bayonet which stuck in his arm. Kaito racked the bolt and fired at the crocodile, spraying the face and side of the beast. It let out another roar as he reloaded, he began firing again as it walked towards him, no effect. Quickly Kaito grabbed his two grenades, pulled the pins, smacked the heads against the tree lighting the fuses.

"For my brothers!" He shouted, throwing them and diving behind cover. Once both blew he looked up and barely dodged the bloodied maw of the beast, it was injured but still able to fight. Kaito pushed himself into the deep foliage and trees which slowed the jaws but they kept coming closer and closer. The jaws were so close he could smell the fresh flesh between the teeth, the next lunge would surely drag him into those same jaws that ate his friends. 

"Tenno heika Banzai!" A familiar voice shouted. Kaito looked above the beast's head and watched as Sergeant Ryuzo plunged his sword into the weak point behind the crocodile's skull. What followed was a roar of pain that made Kaito cup his ears as the body went flat, the jaws slowly closed as the animal breathed its last, it's blood turning the swamp water red. Ryuzo pulled his sword free and, with Kaito's help, got down from the beast. The two men walked to the beach and began to search for more boats, surely more men had escaped, just waiting to be rescued. They were both surprised when they were confronted by a group of twenty men, their uniforms identified them as British troops.

Kaito looked to Ryuzo for their next move, Ryuzo stabbed his sword into the sand and raised his hands in surrender, Kaito reluctantly followed suit, both knowing they couldn't fight back even if they tried. Both men were escorted to the Allied camp and detained with roughly fifty others, without saying a word they all knew they had been through the worst possible hell, one not even the Allies could match or imagine.

Six months later, Ryuzo and Kaito were able to return to Okinawa after being released by the Allies. The war was over, Japan had surrendered, and the two men came back to a land they did not recognize. The two men went their separate ways and despite the horrors of war, there was one thing that gave Ryuzo peace. The look of his wife when they finally were reunited, his dream became reality as they gently embraced.