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tinydefector · 2 months ago

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TINYDEFECTOR! DROP ANOTHER INSECTICON FIC OR WRITTEN WORK AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!

(If you have the time and energy of course. Take care of yourself and be safe!)

Y'all asked for Insecticons get ready for Arcee and Insecticon reader as this for Kinktober for today and tomorrow as a two part piece becuase I wanted my wife to get some action and she deserves a Rebelled Colony of Insecticons.

This actually really made me want to make an Insecticon Oc so....

Kinktober day 4 Insecticons

TFP Arcee x Insecticon reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: pheromones, hormones, fingering, mating.

@tf-kinktober2024

Day 3

Day 5

____________

Arcee is out on a stealth mission investigating an Insecticon disturbances. Her sensors were on high alert as she moved through the tunnels of the mines. a set of optics linger on the blue autobot as she slinks around the old mine. But they stay out of view of the Autobot, following her movements. "You're not a very sneaky Autobot" they call out.

With a quick scan of the area, Arcee tried to pinpoint the source of the voice blasters drawn. She knew that if this was a Decepticon trap, she had to be prepared to defend herself at a moment's notice.

As she continued to move cautiously through the dark tunnels, Arcee kept her optics sharp and her processor running at full speed, ready for whatever might come her way. She couldn't afford to let her guard down.

They move along the roof of the mine quickly, disappearing before she can see them. "Where's your Team blue?" They ask, slinking back behind more rocks as they move further down the mine. Arcee's circuits buzz with a mix of concern and determination as she hears the mysterious figure taunting her about the absence of her team.

She replies in a calm but firm voice, "My team is where they need to be, just like I am."

Despite the voice's attempts to unsettle her, Arcee focused on navigating the dark and treacherous mine. She couldn't let herself be distracted.

They move swiftly, body slamming her into one of the walls of the mine before pinning her down. Arcee's systems flared with alarm as she was suddenly ambushed and pinned down by the mysterious figure. Despite her best efforts to defend herself, she found herself overpowered and at the mercy of her assailant.

Bright green optics look down at her as their wings flicker making a low clicking noise. " You know better to sneak into places that aren't yours" they warn, in truth they didn't want to hurt her, but they couldn't say the same for others of the Rebelled hive.

Struggling against the force holding her down, Arcee tried to maintain her composure and assess her options. The warning from the figure only added to her unease, knowing that there were potentially more dangerous threats lurking in the shadows of the mine.

With a steely resolve in her voice, Arcee replied, "where's Arachnid, is she skulking around here" it came out more as a snarl as she spoke, Arcee's processors worked overtime.

They let out a soft vent. "The hive has moved on. Arachnid has taken them, few of us have separated, taking these old mines as our burrows. The others dont like intruders, they will rip you apart if they find you" they warn, Their wings flutter again slightly but they don't make another move to try and attack, just keep her pinned.

Another sound further down the mine makes their head snap towards the noise. Before tightening their holding her and moving swiftly with her pressed against their bulk. "Stay quiet" they chirp against her audial processor.

As they navigated the maze-like passages, Arcee remained on high alert, scanning for any signs of danger or potential threats. She knew that the Insecticons were formidable adversaries, and the one currently carrying her was a much larger one than she had dealt with before.

They drag her down into a rather tight burrow using their bulk to block out the view from any of the other Insecticons that move around. Arcee's spark pulsed with fear as she found herself dragged into the tight burrow, surrounded by the ominous sounds of the Insecticons communicating with each other. Despite the overwhelming odds against her.

Struggling against the figure holding her, Arcee fought back slightly, pushing against their bulk and trying to break free from their grasp. She knew that the Insecticons were dangerous adversaries, so she had to get out now. "Let me go!" Arcee growled.

"Stop or i'll let them have you" They nearly snarl against her shoulder. Their clawed Servos pull her snuggle against their frame. Despite the other Insecticons displeased noises no one had attacked her. Their wings seem to almost wrap around her. Its only when the sweet scent emitting from the Insecticons have her frame relax and nearly melt into the one holding her she realises something is amidst.

Feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her, Arcee's usual reserve and caution seemed to slip away as she found pulled closer to their frame. "What... What are you doing to me?" she murmured, her voice much softer even as she still struggles.

They let a heavy rumble leave their chest as they watch the other Insecticons slowly disappear. " You little femme walked yourself into a Rebelled Insecticons Colony in the midst of trying to find a queen. Your frame is reacting to our pheromones" They finally explain while pulling her closer so the others couldn't have the blue Autobot.

Arcee's systems buzzed with a mix of alarm and realisation about the situation she had unwittingly stumbled into. a shiver ran down her spinal struts, Struggling to push back against the effects of the pheromones clouding her sensors and processor.

Despite the closeness of the Insecticon and the overwhelming scent clouding her thoughts, little whines leave her as her frame shakes from the intensity of the hormones.

" the others, they would have you the moment i let you go" their antai move as they click and buzz softly. "They are watching, waiting for you to make a run for it" they move slightly keeping Arcee pinned against them.

The warning about the other Insecticons waiting to pounce on her if she tried to escape sent a chill through her circuits, reminding her of the precarious situation she was in.

"I-I won't make a run for it," she forced out, her voice strained with effort as she tried to resist the allure of the pheromones.

They click again this time softer as they slowly release her, moving and repositioning her in the burrow. Running their mandibles against the side of her neck cables as they slot themself against her frame. "We wish to mate little femme, that is why our pheromones are affecting you "

The admission about their intentions to mate sent a surge of alarm bells off in her processor. "I... I, I'm an Autobot," Arcee managed to stammer out, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to push back against the overwhelming sensations threatening to overwhelm her.

" It hasn't stopped us before, why do you think the Decepticons and us were aligned for so long?One of theirs was once our Queen. We are a Rebelled Colony with no allies, little Femme we care not the alliance" they state, while pulling her further back into what looked like a rather soft little nest. Laying down with her gently grooming and tending to her as the effects take hold.

Lost in a haze of her systems pleading for more, for the con currently holding her to touch more of her plating. But the glowing optics of the others focusing on her sends cold dread through her frame. "Easy little Femme, I won't let them touch you unless you want them" they coo against her neck cables.

The realisation that the Autobots were in desperate need of allies, even if it meant forging a tenuous alliance with the Rebelled Colony, sent a shiver down her frame.

Despite her reservations and the full fledged effects of the pheromones clouding her judgement, Arcee found herself surprisingly talkative under the influence of the Insecticons touch. "We... we need allies," she murmured, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath her usual stoicism.

As the Insecticons gentle ministries continued. "And we need a Queen little femme" they mumble, the buzzing from their frame has her trying to pull them closer. They lean into her, servos moving down her hip plating to her valve cover, lightly tracing it, as their digits move down as it snaps open, they watch her every reaction as her body begins reacting to their pheromones. Keening softly as he moves against their servo.

Her voice trembling, Arcee managed to speak, her words tinged with a mix of uncertainty and curiosity. "I-I am not a Queen," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she tried to process the Insecticons words.

Their digits slowly press into her valve, working her open softly, scissoring her open. "We can change that sweet Femme" they hum softly, mandibles tracing her face and cables. Their other arm lifts her other leg giving themself more space between her thighs, Breathing in the scent of her.

For an Insecticon they are rather gentle, even loving as they kiss her. She melts into each touch, optics blown wide as little moans and gasp leave her. A loud purr vibrates from their chest as they press closer to her. Digits tracing over her nodes and even running up her spike before plunging back into her valve.

_____________

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#transformers #transformers x reader #valveplug #transformers arcee #tfp arcee #arcee #arcee x reader #transformers prime #tfp #tfp x reader #insecticons #Insecticons transformers

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cpericardium · 4 months ago

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I too have questions about USAmerica, at least the areas I've seen and been to:

Why are the parking lots so big? Each one is the size of my country. There aren't even that many cars in them most of the time! It feels like their real purpose is to make me walk further to get to the Safeway.

Are traffic laws more like a suggestion? Often the walk sign will pop up and cars don't stop. Sometimes it's like they're waiting for the walk sign to go. I have a near-death experience half the time I cross the street.

Why aren't there surveillance cameras in the elevators? What if someone commits a crime in there?

Why do people roll down the car window, stick their elbow out and blast music so loud everyone on the street can hear it? Once I was on the pavement and multiple people were doing it as though in competition. or "mating season"

Why do the fire alarms go off so easily? One of my old roommates (Korean) said she heard US walls were made of combustible material which was why every time anyone cooked anything on our floor, alarms would start blaring. I've moved twice since and it's still like that.

Do trains just not work? When we were in Boston for wormcon, we stood on the train for 20 minutes and nothing happened so we just left. Is this normal? You pay for the train ticket and it might move or it might not? That doesn't seem... "ok"...

Why is it considered rude to flag down waitstaff when you need something? My understanding is that you must wait for them to come round to you, but that can take a really long time when you just need a new fork or something.

No trash cans?? No benches?? What do you do when you're outside besides wander around?

How come you can't know the true cost of whatever you're buying until you're paying for it? You can't know if you can afford it until you're at the counter and all the additional fees and taxes are applied?

#adventures in america

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goldenraeofsun · 4 months ago

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Paging Dr. Dad

Bruce wakes up to his phone ringing.

He clears his throat, swallowing past the lump of dread. “Go,” he says by way of greeting. No time for pleasantries at two in the morning.

“I just got a notification Steph is in the hospital,” Barbara says without preamble because they are actually very alike, not that Barbara would ever admit it. “Everyone’s on patrol except you, and I’m tied up with the Birds.”

“Her status?” Bruce asks as he gets up from bed, grimacing as his ankle boot bangs against the bed frame.

“Stable, according to her hospital intake form,” Barbara says, and some of his tension uncoils. “But,” she falters, “she shouldn’t be by herself. Not there.”

Bruce glances down at his flannel Superman pajamas Clark got him for Christmas partly as a joke. He’ll only admit it to Clark upon pain of death, but they are surprisingly comfortable and warm. He could wrestle them off over his boot and pull on a pair of sweatpants with even more difficulty, for what, his image? Stephanie is in the hospital, alone.

He forgoes his crutches – they’ll just slow him down – and clunks out of his bedroom. “I’m on my way,” he says.

“I think her com got knocked out during the fight,” Barbara adds, “so she has to be pretty bored by now.”

Despite himself, Bruce smiles. “Well, we can’t have that. I shudder to think of what a bored Stephanie Brown can get up to.”

“Why do you think I called you?” Barbara says, her voice wry. “Thanks, Bruce.”

“Of course.” Bruce grits his teeth as he painstakingly makes his way down to the entrance hall. “I’ll be there in thirty.”

“Twenty,” Barbara corrects. “I already sent a taxi to the Manor. Look, I’ve got to go. Give Steph a hug for me. I know you can. I know your arms are working just fine.”

Bruce says dryly, “Thanks for calling, Barbara.”

“See you at the next crisis.”

He hangs up and focuses on not tripping down the staircase and joining Stephanie in the hospital. After scribbling a note for Alfred still down in the Cave, he grabs his coat and heads out the door.

He waits for the taxi, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets, breath misting in the cold winter air. He hasn’t been further than the front lawn in a week, laid up with his broken ankle.

He thumbs his dark phone screen, lips pursed. He could call one of his sons for a full rundown of what went wrong and why Spoiler ended up in the hospital, but who knows if they could afford the distraction. If one of them could have been spared, they would be on their way to her, not Bruce.

* * *

An extra fifty to the cab driver, and fifteen minutes later, Bruce is rushing through the doors of Gotham General. He throws the tired receptionist at the ER a winning smile that once made Miss America herself swoon. “I’m here to see Stephanie Brown. She was admitted about a half hour ago.”

The receptionist taps a few keys with one hand as she lifts a truly massive thermos with the other one. “ID?”

Bruce fishes out his wallet and hands over his driver’s license. “Bruce Wayne.”

The receptionist doesn’t blink as pushes it back towards him, “You can go on back,” she says. “Next!”

Bruce hurries around the welcome station, scanning the people in the ER slumped over in chairs, their expressions a mix of boredom, consternation, and pain.

If Stephanie was badly hurt enough to be admitted to the hospital, she wouldn’t be able to sit up, so he starts on the curtained off areas along the left wall, where the beds are.

The first has an elderly lady spitting Spanish at a chastised-looking young man, so Bruce just mutters a low, “Lo siento,” and moves on.

The second has an unconscious teen surrounded by his parents. His mother pats his hair worryingly, while his father is bent over a rosary. Bruce passes them by without saying anything.

The third has Stephanie, just clad in her black nondescript black undersuit. Ice packs are shoved against her left side, and her left foot lays against the bed all wrong, the arch flat against the bed.

A doctor is talking to her in a low voice as he taps away on a tablet.

Her eyes widen as Bruce pulls the curtain back so he can edge inside.

The doctor looks up – Dr. Douglas Woods, according to the ID hanging off his lanyard. He’s young, his early thirties at most, and doesn’t yet have that haggard look of most of Gotham’s medical professionals. “I’m sorry, man,” he says to Bruce, “but you can’t be in here. We’re swamped tonight, but we’ll get to you as soon as –”

“He can stay,” Stephanie interrupts. “He’s family. He’s,” she throws Bruce an inscrutable look, pausing infinitesimally, “my dad. But most importantly, he’s wearing Superman pajamas. Do you have no pride, man?”

Bruce glares, his irritation spiking. This is what he gets for rushing to her side. “They were a gift.”

“From who? A novelty store BOGO sale?”

“From Clark,” Bruce says through gritted teeth.

Stephanie’s eyes dance, and Bruce’s rigid posture loses some of its tension. If she can sass him, she can’t be in too much pain. “That man must have balls of steel.” And then she winks.

“Stephanie.”

Dr. Woods coughs. “As I was saying, Steph, you got pretty roughed up.”

“Turns out I shouldn’t have tried to fight a speeding Subaru,” Stephanie drawls. “Not after I skip leg day.”

Bruce suppresses a pleased smile. A car accident is smart.

“Yeah, don’t do that again,” Dr. Woods says with a small smile. “Your hip is dislocated, and we’ll try to set that in a few minutes. If we can’t get it on the first try, we’ll put you under anesthesia and pop it back. Do you consent to that, if we have to?”

Stephanie’s gaze darts to Bruce, who nods. He has dislocated his hip before; from experience, it should get back in its socket as soon as possible.

“Yeah,” Stephanie says, subdued.

“We’re going to get you to radiology to get that wrist looked at,” Dr. Wood says, “but it might be a while. They’re backlogged after that explosion in Chinatown.”

“I bet,” Stephanie deadpans, and ice wouldn’t melt on her tongue.

Bruce’s gaze flicks up to the singed edges of her bangs.

“There’s not much we can do for your ribs,” Dr. Woods continues apologetically. “Just press the alert if your cold packs need replacing, and a nurse can help.”

“Thanks, doc,” Stephanie says as he gets up to leave.

“How long until radiology will be able to look at Stephanie’s case?” Bruce cuts in before Dr. Woods can move on.

He grimaces as he glances down at his watch. “An hour?”

Two hours, then.

As Dr. Woods pushes the curtain aside, Bruce asks loudly, “Are her ribs bruised, cracked, or broken?”

Stephanie shrinks down on her hospital bed, her expression darkening.

“Bruised, definitely,” Dr. Woods says. “But I wouldn’t rule out a few fractures from the impact. Regardless, treatment is the same.”

“What painkillers is she on?” Bruce presses.

“Just ibuprofen, but she’s also free to request aspirin from the nurse.” He frowns. “With her current injuries, I can’t prescribe her narcotics.”

“Will she need to be admitted overnight?”

Stephanie winces.

“It depends on that hip,” Dr. Woods says, clearly growing impatient at all the questions. “If we can’t set it without anesthesia, we’ll have to keep her, since it’s already,” he checks his watch, “three in the morning.” He more forcefully pulls the curtain back to leave. “I’ll stop by again soon.”

Once the curtain settles back in place, shielding Stephanie and Bruce from view, he turns back to find her glaring defiantly up at him, the fingers of her good hand tapping against the plastic bedding. “Well? Get on with it.”

Bruce frowns. “Get on with what?”

“The lecture.”

“What lecture?”

Stephanie huffs, “I don’t know. The You Took Unnecessary Risks lecture. The You’re Benched lecture. The You Fucked Up lecture. Take your pick.”

“I didn’t come here to lecture you,” Bruce says truthfully.

Stephanie makes a very skeptical noise in the back of her throat. “Then what are you doing here? Damian will report our run-in with the Ghost Dragons. Hopefully he’ll write in wherever he stashed my suit. Knowing him, the sewer, probably.” As Bruce just stares at her, her jaw takes on a distinctly mulish set. “Just get it over with, Bruce. My hip hurts, and I wanna pass out.”

“I didn’t come here to lecture you,” Bruce repeats.

Stephanie purses her lips.

“I,” Bruce swallows, and why the hell did he race here, if Stephanie would clearly rather be alone? “I came here to keep you company,” he says, deliberately keeping his voice detached.

Stephanie chokes on air.

He surges forward, his concern spiking. “Stephanie –”

“I’m fine,” she coughs. “Just surprised.”

“Barbara called me,” Bruce says by way of explanation as he sits down in the chair Dr. Woods vacated.

“And you, what, rushed to my sickbed?” Stephanie asks, her tone still skeptical. “At three in the morning? Just to – what, make sure I can make it through the big bad ER?”

“Yes,” Bruce says helplessly.

Stephanie cackles.

Bruce feels vaguely offended.

As her grin fades, she says, “I didn’t – I would never have – what I mean is,” she squares her shoulders, meeting his gaze squarely, “Thanks, for coming. You didn’t have to.”

He scoots the chair closer. “It’s nothing, Stephanie. And, yes, I did.”

“But–” Stephanie cuts herself off as a distinctive voice from the waiting room doesn’t so much as float in but barrel through.

“Where is Brown? Where is my father? I demand –”

“No way,” Stephanie breathes.

Bruce barely has time to brace himself before Damian shoves the curtain aside.

“There you are,” Damian says impatiently, but Bruce can read the concern in his youngest’s face clear as day, the pinched set to his mouth, the furrow between his brows, the way his eyes rove up and down Stephanie’s body, lingering on her ribs and hip.

“Hello, Damian,” Bruce says over the sound of rushing footsteps. “Dick,” he adds as his oldest skids to a stop behind Damian. “Where’s Tim?” Bruce asks because his family tends to travel in packs.

“Picking up Babs,” Dick says cheerfully. “Here, Dames, you forgot this.” He hands over a purple stuffed rabbit.

“I did no such thing,” Damian says, lifting his nose into the air. He makes no move to take it.

“Mm hm,” Dick hums, shaking his head. “This is for you,” he says, turning to Stephanie and tucking the purple rabbit against her good ribs. “Damian spotted it in the gift shop and thought you’d like it. He ran off while I was paying.”

Damian hisses, “You did not have to buy it, Richard.”

Dick chuckles, a broad grin spreading across his face. “Like I was going to steal from a hospital –”

“That’s not what I meant!”

Stephanie raises the rabbit to eye level. Casually, she asks, “What’s its name, Damian?”

Damian turns to her, his eyes wide. “I did not –”

Stephanie lowers the rabbit. “Seriously? You’re gonna lie to me when I’m wounded, suffering and in pain, could be dying –”

“… Antonia.”

Stephanie absorbs this for a long moment. “That’s a dumb name.”

Damian rears up. “It is not –”

Bruce settles back in his chair, content to listen to them bicker. He keeps his gaze trained on Stephanie, though, watching as the tension eases from her face the longer she goads Damian, distracting him from his worry.

As Damian and Dick get into an argument about Dick’s naming abilities – at least they keep their voices down as batarang, batcomputer, and batmobile get thrown down like gauntlets – Bruce leans in towards Stephanie. “If you’d like to pass out, now is the time to do it.”

“Roger,” Stephanie says, blinking heavy-lidded eyes. “You’ll take Antonia if I have to go to surgery, right?”

Bruce reaches over to rub one of Antonia’s soft ears between his thumb and forefinger. “Damian will probably guard her with his life.”

“And you?” she asks.

“To be honest, I’m far more concerned about you,” Bruce says. “You should get some sleep.”

With that, her eyes close, and Bruce settles in to wait.

#batfam #fanfic #batfam fanfic #stephanie brown & bruce wayne #stephanie brown #bruce wayne #stephanie brown is spoiler #bruce wayne is batman #fluff #bruce wayne is a good dad #rae writes fic

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jpitha · 11 months ago

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Between the Black and Gray 4

First / Previous / Next

At the docking ring, Fen and Ma-ren led Gord all the way down to the end. Past the regular passenger ships, past the scheduled freighters, past the bays for warships, past the semi permanent bays for residents to the last seven bays, thirty three though forty. Before they reached bay thirty three Gord could see the bulk of the Starjumper. It was easily five times larger than any ship here.

Walking past a simple barricade they stepped into an area of the docks that were not visited very often. The noise and bustle of the docks receded until Gord could only hear their footsteps and the thrum of the air handlers. Fen walked up to an airlock and gestured dramatically. "Here she is. Spyglass. She last moved when my Grandparents were young and Mom was a kid the last time she had power."

Gord walked up to the airlock. It was dark, with no lights, and no indicator over the door. a light layer of dust surrounded everything. "Oh, what happened hon? What did they do to you?" He whispered to the ship. He turned to Fen and Ma-ren "How do we open the airlock?"

"There's no power; we have to open it manually." Ma-ren shrugged. "We should be able to pump that lever there a few times and then the outer door will open."

Gord looked around and found the lever. It was worn and clearly well used. "What about shore power from the station?"

Fen laughed. "We can't afford those fees. Grandma says back when she was a kid they used to pay to run shore power during celebrations like weddings and funerals. These days though, nobody really cares anymore."

Gord stared at Fen and Ma-ren for a long while before turning back to the airlock and pumping the handle.

"Uh Gord?"

"Yes?"

"What's going on? You're acting like Spyglass is alive or something. Like, we left someone behind. If Spyglass was alive, we'd remember. Grandma would have mentioned it, Mom would have mentioned it, anyone would have mentioned it."

"There was a time when Spyglass was alive." Gord sighed. "She was a friend of mine. I'm worried for her. I want to view the logs and figure out what happened."

Fen blinked. "Gord, that doesn't make sense. If you were friends with Spyglass that would make you...."

Gord didn't meet her gaze. The airlock slowly opened as Gord worked the handle. After a moment it was wide enough for a person to enter. "Come on, let's see what's inside."

The inner airlock door was wide open. One the one hand, Gord was happy that he wouldn't have to pump the handle to manually open it, but having the airlock wide open was a bad sign. Gord took out two palm lights and handed one to Ma-ren and turned on the other.

Fen was surprised at how... cramped it was. She hadn't been inside Spyglass since she was a kid, but it always seemed to big when she was little. Now, she realized the halls were only a little taller than her and how small the rooms where. Gord started walking down the hall towards the command deck.

Ma-ren and Fen followed Gord. As soon as he was aboard, he seemed to know exactly where they were going. Occasionally he'd swing his light over some detail and nod, or look at something else and grunt, but he wasn't lost.

After a few minutes, they made it to the command deck. Now they were further into Spyglass than Fen or Ma-ren had ever been, and as evidenced by the floors, it had been a long time since anyone else was here. The floors were dusty and what few boot-prints there were were also covered by a layer of dust. Gord wiped away at a sign on the door. At the top, it said "Command Deck' in Colonic, but under it was another phrase in a different language.

"Gord, what's that under the sign in Colonic?"

Gord looked up. "Oh? Ah yeah, Spyglass was refit right after Colonic took over as the main language for the colony worlds. The bottom text is the same thing in Late Period English." He read the words out loud. The language was strange to Fen and Ma-ren, very staccato.

"You can speak it Gord? Are you a scholar?"

Gord chuckled. "I can, and I'm not. I don't need to be a scholar to speak my native language. Gord opened a panel on the side and stick his hand into the cavity and rummaged around. There was a click and he was able to slide the door open.

Fen and Ma-ren stepped in after Gord and gazed around. They could only see tiny parts at time from their small palm light, but the room was large, with many seats and was all oriented towards a large screen at the front. Gord sat in a seat in the middle and touched a screen on the arm. "Completely dead. I would have expected something, even if was just dim lights." He stood. "Come on ladies, I'll need your help."

"Why?" Fen was having a good time looking around the old command deck, and didn't want to leave just yet.

"We're going to restore power. At least to critical systems."

"What? How?" Ma-ren's fur poofed out and her tail twitched worriedly. "Everything is dead and cold."

"Well yeah, but it wasn't always this way, and so long as you haven't stolen parts-" He turned and looked at them "You haven't stolen parts, right?"

They shook their heads.

"Then we should be able to get her up and at least lit. Spyglass had 6 reactors back in the day. We only need one for lights and heat. We get her lit, we can check the core and figure out what happened.

Gord lead them back down the other end, down stairs and across halls, deep, deep within Spyglass. Fen was sure that nobody had been down here since after they docked. It was odd. She expected things to be... grimer than they were. Sure it was dark, and sure it was dusty, but things weren't leaking or broken, and there weren't any vermin about. It was quite different than the station.

They reached the Reactor Room, and Gord once again did his trick with the panel to open the doors. As soon as he stepped inside, he swung his light around the room and gasped.

"What? What is it?" Ma-ren walked in behind him and looked around. It was a long hall.

"The reactors! There are supposed to be six of them! There's only two left!" Sure enough, Fen and Ma-ren followed Gord as he walked down the hall, his boots clanging on the metal grating as they passed empty space after empty space, finally coming upon two huge, identical machines at the very back of the hall. Gord peered at them and tisked. "Well, so long as they're not both broken in the same way, I can get one going again." Without looking up he gestured at Fen and Ma-ren. "There's a tool kit over in the locker behind you. Please go fetch it. There should be some battery lights too, let's see if we can get a little more light on this.

"It took a few hours to get everything set up, and they were well past curfew before they were finished, but they had set up the lights and Gord had the reactor in more pieces than they thought possible. Gord knew where everything was, even things that he shouldn't know. He had told them that the medical ward was a few doors down and they were able to find some folding chairs to sit, and even some cots so they could take a nap. Gord never seemed to have to take a break. He didn't eat, didn't get tired, just continued to tinker. Fen and Ma-ren dozed on the cots while Gord worked.

Finally he sat back, and closed the panel. "Ladies? I think we're ready for ignition. It's made up of spares and most of the other reactor, so we'll never be able to run the Stardrive or the weapons, but we can at least have lights and heat and the computer.

"You fixed it?" Ma-ren yawned hugely.

"Not really. Just rigged it together. This old model reactor is very durable and resilient. I'm a little surprised the crew that brought you here wasn't able to keep it running. Everything needed was onboard."

Fen nodded. "Grandma mentioned that hardly anyone knew what to do or how to work the ship, there was a lot of guesswork and hoping involved."

Gord didn't reply. Instead he turned back towards the reactor. "I'm going to start it, watch out."

Before Fen and Ma-ren could ask what to watch out for Gord pressed the starter. There was a hum and a loud clack of relays, followed by a warbling hum that started slow and went faster and faster until there was a sound like a burst of static.

And then, with hardly any fanfare at all, the lights came up.

Before they could cheer, there was a cacophony of alarms and klaxons and sirens. Gord jumped at the noise, and then took off towards the command deck. Fen and Ma-ren hurried to catch up.

In addition to the alarm and siren sounds, there were voices warning things. They'd speak in two or three languages that Fen didn't recognize and then in oddly accented Colonic she heard "WARNING. WARNING. REACTORS OFFLINE. BACKUPS OFFLINE. HULL DAMAGE. WEAPON DAMAGE. STARDRIVE DAMAGE. SYSTEMS CRITICAL." and it would repeat.

They made it to the command deck and Gord was sitting in the middle seat, his fingers dancing over the pads until the alarms were silenced one by one. Sighing in relief, and continued to poke and prod at the pad. "I'm turning off running lights. They've been off for decades, no sense in telling station authorities that we have power now." Gord was speaking to them without looking up.

"So Gord, is Spyglass alive or not?"

"I don't know. She's not replying to my usual queries." He looked up at the room. "Hey Spyglass! You Up? It's Gord!"

Nothing.

"Come on, let's go check the core. Something's up."

They made their way deeper into the ship; deeper even than the reactors, until they reached a door that was almost completely hidden. There was no frame around this door, and no panel on the outside. There wasn't even a sign in Colonic. Just a small line of text in that angular Late Period English language. With the power on, Gord didn't have to rummage in the walls looking for an override. He approached the door and touched it with both his hands, palms in. There was a click and the door slid smoothy to the side.

This room was completely different than the others. It was barely more than a closet, bathed in a blue light. From the floor to the ceiling were racks and racks of electronics and half of it blinked and hummed. The other half was dark and silent, separated by a large black mechanism that was stuck haphazardly over things. When Gord saw the mechanism he said something in his old language that Fen and Ma-ren didn't understand, but the meaning was clear.

"Fuck."

"What?"

"It's a shackle." He gestured towards the black mechanism. "It's meant to lock down AIs, to prevent them from being intelligent. Spyglass is here, but she's trapped."

"Someone is...inside Spyglass?" Ma-ren's ears twitched.

"Gord shook his head. "No, she is Spyglass. The ship is her body."

"Oh no" Fen shuddered. "So is she aware of herself?"

Gord nodded. "Probably, yes."

"How long has she been like this?"

He peered at the mechanism without touching it. "This looks like late third Empire tech. Right around The War." He straightened up. "She's been locked down at least five hundred years."

Fen and Ma-ren looked at eachother. Five hundred years? "She's... going to be upset when we unlock her right?"

Gord turned to them and smiled thinly. "Ma-ren, I would like to take this moment to state how pleased I am that you assumed we're going to unlock her. To answer your question, she is going to be a mess. But, I have some skill here. I can help her."

Fen nodded. "Okay then, Gord. How do we free her?"

"Luckily" Gord turned back to the shackle "They were never meant to be hard to install and remove. We just have to enter the code." Gord touched a panel on the front and a keypad rolled out from behind.

"What's the code?"

Gord chuckled. "It's zero zero zero zero one."

Fen blinked. "You're kidding."

"I'm not. The Empire set up these shackles, but didn't trust that anyone could remember the code to remove them, so they hard coded it to something easy."

"But then anyone could have removed them."

"This is true, and wonder, Fen, why they didn't." Gord typed in the code and pressed the start key at the bottom.

The shackle lit up and started glowing green. After a moment, the racks of equipment behind it received power and started glowing like the others.

"That's it?" Ma-ren peered at the equipment.

"That's it." Gord looked around. "We should be able--"

Their conversation was interrupted by the PA crackling to life.

There was a piercing noise.

A woman was screaming.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are space oddities #humans and aliens #jpitha #writing #humans and ai #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #Between the black and gray

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heyitschartic · 1 year ago

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Finally finished with the redone Undersiders as the Mall Cluster. Still cannibalized a lot of the secondaries from my previous attempt, but I'm happy with it. Entire thing is under the line cause I don't wanna clog people's pages.

Cluster Mechanic

Every night the group wakes up in the dream room. A rotating member of the cluster is given two tokens to hand out. Whoever is holding a token at the end of the dream gets an additional aspect of their primary unlocked.

Taylor

Trigger: Danny and Taylor made it out of Earth Bet as the world ended, but Annette didn't. Emma, after being attacked by a gang (potentially the Fallen) and saved by Sophia, turned on her. Bullied and abused, Taylor slowly began to fall out of society. Feeling less and less connected to others, feeling less and less like a person. Things came to a head when she's found by the Trio at the mall and locked inside a garbage room. As the flames grow closer and no one hears her cries for help, Taylor feels at her most trapped and alone, both metaphorically and literally. Trigger.

Primary: A master power with very rough control of bugs and a blink mover power that allows her to move between clumps of bugs roughly as big as she is.

Token Boost: When she teleports but before she reforms, she's spread throughout her swarm and gains a master power equivalent to Skitter. Feels at that moment however like she's trapped in darkness.

Sarah Secondary: A thinker power that allows her to understand potential angles of attack and a sixth sense of when they are coming as a slow building anxiety.

Alec Secondary: A master power that allows her to shout commands. Those who hear it feel their bodies moving without their control. Effects fade after a few seconds.

Brian secondary: Forms a cloud of inky blackness around herself. Affords weak brute powers, but mainly stranger capabilities, dampening noise and hiding her.

Rachel Secondary: Wet tinker power focused on modifying bats to increase sonic abilities, boost intelligence to follow simple commands.

Sarah

Trigger: After the end of the world, Sarah's family lost everything. While coping they found religion; the Fallen found them soon after. When her parents joined, her brother seemed to be the only one who managed to land on his feet. He made friends, formed connections, and kept their families standing while the rest of them felt like they were floundering. When he killed himself, it was a massive blow and the Fallen looked down on them for it. Pressure. Pressure from all angles to keep performing, to make up for it, and to do better. Sarah suffered the worst of it, including pressure from her parents that she should have done more, should have seen this coming. She picked up the slack and took his place at the mall attack. As she sees the fire rising and hears the screams of people inside, she realizes this is what her brother was trying to avoid so badly, he was willing to die to stop it. As the molotov slips from her fingers, she wonders what her brother would think of her now. Trigger.

Primary: A pre-cognitive zone thinker power, able to feel visceral sights/sounds of things to come in an area. However, this power is vaguer the further away from the event she is. Glimpses at a day, better understanding an hour away, perfect vision bare seconds before the event is happening.

Token Boost: Enhanced reactions and understanding during events, allowing for combat thinker capabilities.

Taylor Secondary: Blink mover ability dependent on damage. Transferring attacks on herself into a teleport that blasts out with force those she teleports near.

Alec Secondary: Master power to erode the will of someone, eliciting feelings of dread and despair after long enough. Power works through focused line of sight.

Brian secondary: Able to leak a smokescreen, thick and inky, from her pores. Loosely prehensile, can turn from a gas to liquid appendage that stings and numbs what it hits.

Rachel Secondary: Wet tinker power to modify sheep/goats with combat abilities, will act like guardians.

Alec

Trigger: Gold Morning upended many things, but Jean-Paul used it as his chance to finally escape the thumb of his father. Somewhere along the way, he met Olivia. They were inseparable ever since, moving place to place, though he always was looking over his shoulder for dear old dad. Not quite dating, never the right word, but together. In many ways, it felt like the first connection he ever had. Someone who drew things out of him that he thought were gone. Then the mall. They were separated in the rush and he spent his time looking for her. As he searches, half blinded and deafened by smoke and screams, he finally finds her body, trampled when the attack began. Trigger.

Primary: A single minion master. Forms a minion that resembles Olivia out of himself. She leaves with his emotions, putting him in a burnscar-esque emotional state. She's very swift and mobile, but weak to damage and Alec gets backlash from her breaking apart.

Token Boost: She radiates his emotions to others around her, intensly.

Taylor Secondary: Enters a mover state where he becomes faster and more agile while leaving behind a trail of harrying vermin.

Sarah Secondary: Thinker power to understand what others are thinking/feeling in an area. Surface level understanding without deeper insight.

Brian: Stranger power that gives him a sense when others are looking at him. Is able to blur the senses of one person of his choice, including powered sense.

Rachel: Wet tinker ability to modify birds with increased surveillance abilities, able to relay information.

Brian

Trigger: When GM happened, the Laborne siblings lost their parents. Reeling from the loss, but neither able to articulate it, they are forced to forge on. Brian takes the brunt of it, working construction jobs to try and make money. He doesn't have enough time to be with Aisha, to keep her in check, but as long as they're both safe, he's fine with that. They head to the mall on one of his free days to get her stuff for a new school year when the attack happens. Caught outside, they're ganged up by Fallen members and Brian is taken down by a blow to the back. He lies on the ground disoriented and unable to work up the strength or motivation to stand as he watches Aisha take her first few hits. Trigger.

Primary: Brian leaks a smoky mist he's able to form into a sword. The sword is weightless allowing for fast and continuous attacks, and hits with a force harder than it should.

Token Boost: The swords hits have the added effect of momentarily deafening and blinding who they hit.

Taylor Secondary: blink power to teleport around a set zone centered on his first teleport. Needs to move manually from first spot to change zone radius.

Sarah: A precog power focused on one person or thing to warn of incoming attacks. Allows for combat thinker-esque reactions to those warnings.

Alec: a single shot blaster power with good accuracy. Hits others with a sense of pacification. Emotion hits are cumulative, clouding judgement.

Rachel: Wet tinker abilities to modify offensive and defensive aspects of a single wolf.

Rachel

Trigger: A poor girl on the streets after the world ended, Rachel had to fight to keep what she had. Without a real connection to keep her safe though, she was one of thousands that slipped through the cracks. Like so many other people, she was found by the Fallen and press-ganged. Things were harder on her now because she didn't fit in. She was violent and could hold her own, sure, but she still couldn't connect to others, still couldn't quite understand them, and so she was pushed to the fringes of the group. She found herself caring for animals under Bamet, something she had proven good at. Things didn't get better and because of this position, she couldn't escape the stigma or try to improve with others. It comes to a head at the mall, when she see her dog Rollo get shot and go down. She rushes to save him and is pulled back by the hands of her compatriots. She in anger fights to break free, but can't shake so many and her pleas fall on deaf ears. Again, she can't even articulate or have them understand what she's trying to do. Trigger.

Primary: Wet tinker ability to modify dogs, granting some increased combat capability, but mainly making them more intelligent.

Token Boost: Able to make medication to grant temporary boosts beyond what her modifications can normally do.

Taylor Secondary: Master power to control a small group of rats. Power puts her in a dissociative state.

Sarah Secondary: Combat thinker power focusing on understanding her own body and movement with enhanced reflexes. Give vague feelings of intentions of others.

Alec secondary: Shaker power centered on herself. Those caught in the radius are forced into an emotion of Rachel's choosing.

Brian secondary: Striker power to imbue her strikes with mild smoke. Imparts an increased force (like a shove) and a cumulative disorientation/blindness.

#wormblr #undersiders cluster

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lunamaraproject · 10 months ago

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LUNAMARA: Fragments [6]

🦢

Felix is sure he once heard a philosopher say that only two things were certain: death and taxes. Having been embroiled in the political sphere quite against his will for the past 140 years of his life, he can say with certainty that not only is that true, but that people will occupy 90% of their time arguing about one or both topics when presented with the option to do so.

He doesn’t, technically, have to be here. He’s a mid-level bureaucrat at best, these days, and he worked hard to make himself less significant in the public eye, so he’s not obligated to turn up to public senate meetings. But Cas asked him, and Elsie– well, she didn’t ask, she’s too proud for that, but she also didn’t forbid him to come, which for a girl just a couple of decades past a century, means she desperately wants his company.

Cas plays his role as a guard very well. He looks imposing and cold in his gleaming armor, standing at attention with his spear in hand next to Elsie’s seat at the head of the long wooden table. His gaze is hard and constantly moving, sweeping over the irritated expressions of the senators in front of him. Behind them and further back, a much less organised gaggle of common people, those who are interested enough to take time out of their day to watch old fogies argue with a girl young enough to be their granddaughter.

The room is packed. He’s not sure what that says about their society, or whether the situation has simply gotten to a point where nobody can afford to be “disinterested in politics”.

“My Lady,” says a senator through his teeth, as Elsie inclines her head in his direction. “If the Queen’s government doesn’t disclose to its people the full details of the incident, I fail to see how we can maintain mutual trust!”

“You are expected to trust your Queen by her nature of being Queen, Senator Aurelius,” Elsennae replies. “And all the relevant details have already been disclosed to your office, and to the public.”

“And yet none of it pertains to exactly how long we have left running on our current power!” he snaps back, raising his voice and drawing a few shouts of agreement from the crowd. “The people need to know exactly how much is needed to keep their homes aloft. How else are we to live our lives?!”

Another senator slams her hand onto the table. “How long do we have until another cleaving event like this!?”

“If we don’t know, how are we going to evacuate people from the area in time?!”

“How long before Lunamara itself drops out of the sky!”

Elsennae raises her hands to calm her people, though it takes a few seconds before they quiet down. Felix feels his skin crawl with an unpleasant feeling. For some reason, it reminds him of the whistling of a mortar shell through the air.

“In the interest,” Elsennae says loudly and clearly. “Of the people of Lunamara not living their lives in anxiety and fear, we have chosen not to openly disclose the numerical values of the power needed to maintain current altitude. Regardless we ask for people to continue operating on minimum power at all times, and encourage those who feel ready to enter the Dream–”

Felix moves, but Cas moves faster, smacking the bolt of magic out of the air with his spear, and sending it careening into the nearby wall, where it explodes with enough force to knock multiple senators from their chairs. The crowd panics, as do the politicians, but Felix scrambles to Elsie’s side.

“Felix!” Cas barks, standing between the princess and the crowd. He’s looking for the offender, but in the chaos, it’s unlikely he’ll find them. If he does, Felix doesn’t envy them. “Get her out of here!”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Elsie’s still small enough to be picked up, which he does, sweeping her into his arms and escaping out of the side door. The palace is a maze, but he’s as familiar with it as he is with his own face, so he takes a winding route that would lose any pursuers that could somehow get past Cas. Again, unlikely, but he’s not made it this far without being careful.

Finally, he stops in a small side room. Closing the door, he seals the edge of it with crystal. Hardly the strongest, but better than nothing. Then he leans against it, sliding down until both he and Elsie are sat on the floor.

This room used to be for servants, he’s fairly sure. It hasn’t seen use in a century, and the dust is prevalent. Elsie would probably use that as an excuse later, for why her eyes are bloodshot and her throat sore. A princess ruling in the place of her sleeping mother can’t afford to look weak.

For now, here with him, she’s just a little girl crying in his arms, shoulders shaking with the weight of an entire crumbling city upon them.

If Felix can bear at least some of the weight for her, he’ll attend every farcical meeting until the end of time.

🌗

More from LUNAMARA:

Fragments: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Comics: [Good Night] [Good Morning]

Art by Luka (http://nousanti.tumblr.com/) Story by Pidge (http://pidgestories.tumblr.com)

#lunamara #lunamara project #nousanti #pidgestories #cassius corvus #felix cygnus #princess elsennae

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littlejuicebox · 1 year ago

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Protect the flames from the wild winds

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Chapter number: Four

Themes: BG3, slow burn, original female character x astarion, dialogue heavy, mostly canon behavior, angst, gore

Masterlist: Click here.

Song inspiration: “Icarus" -- Bastille

Notes: Oof. Battle scenes are hard. I know this is a little shorter than the other chapters but wow it was a lot of moving parts to keep track of! Leave a comment if you have a suggestion or any feedback. :)

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The smell that confronted them outside the tent was vile; a swirling, dizzying aroma that was both metallic and saccharine. Astarion's stomach lurched as he broke through the tent, but he ignored the nauseating sensation, shifting his focus to towards the center of the campsite.

Bright rays of early morning sun assaulted their vision, a break in the gray clouds allowed the first rays of daylight to blaze into their shelter. The soil was caked in thick wads of mud and debris; it was clear last night's storm had done its fair share of damage. Deep pockets of water were spaced throughout the camp, and Astarion lamented the hostile terrain, which proved to be horrible for either travel or battle.

Karlach was positioned near the middle of their tents, her large fists bunched, no weapons on her person; Scratch was beside her, hackles raised, still emitting a rumbling warning to their intruder. A quick glance around the area revealed that a cautious Gale and Wyll were present, both hanging further back from the intruder, expressions laced with confusion and casting hands held at the ready. Lae'zel and Shadowheart were, notably, nowhere to be found.... a curiosity for another time. Just in front of the silver-haired elf stood Wren, her scimitar held low in her dominant hand.

Astarion gripped at the hilt of his own weapon as his scarlet eyes narrowed towards the stranger in their midst. What gall this man must have, to walk into a circle of unknown tents so brazenly.

"Ah... hello fellow wanderers. Forgive the aroma." The man stood, only a few paces between the tiefling and himself. His body was stock-still as he eyed the other party members. "And, apologies for the poor first impression." He added with a humorous smile flashed their way; his hands were lifted, fingers wriggling to show he wasn't holding a weapon.

"Enough with the apologies, mate! Who the hells are you and what do you want?" Karlach's enraged voice was an acute contrast to the good-natured tone she always favored with her campmates. Subconsciously, Astarion admired the full power of her intimidation and her innate ability to wield both sides of her nature -- a lion in a sheep's costume around her friends. Wren remained stoic as she expertly navigated herself around the sinkholes, focused on pushing herself closer to the center of camp. Her honey eyes kept flashing between the red woman and the burly, long-haired man; the vampire could feel the wheels turning inside the little bird's head... she was formulating a plan and running a million scenarios through her mind all at once.

"Gandrel. My name is Gandrel. And I swear I mean you no harm... I am simply passing through. I am need of assistance with my hunt and hoping to find aid from the hag of these bogs... if I can afford her blood price, that is."

The sharp chortle that exploded out of the ranger ripped Astarion's attention away from the stench-riddled man. Wren hissed, voice full to the brim with vitriol, "What a fool you must be... both to walk into our camp as if it belongs to you and to seek out a hag."

The ranger's scarred lip was curled into a sneer unlike anything Astarion had witnessed from her during their travels. He felt the fury and distaste radiating off of the half-elf as she spat out her words. Wren had quickly crossed the camp with expert footwork and she had positioned herself to face the intruder nearly head on. Karlach remained fixed in the same position, muscles coiled like springs, waiting for Wren's next move.

Gandrel nodded his agreement with a wry smile. He did not seem interested in taking on a group when he was so heavily outmatched. 'Smart man...' Astarion thought, head cocked as he watched the encounter play out.

The long-haired hunter rolled Wren’s insults off his shoulders and continued, calmly. "It is true. Hags are dangerous... and tricky. But I am afraid my trail has run dry and the task I have at hand is quite urgent... I am hunting a vampire spawn."

As the burly man revealed his target, the parasites in everyone's minds reared their bodies in unison, their offense soaring through the group in a domino effect. Gandrel takes the silence from the group as a signal to continue on with his explanation. “I am on strict orders to return him to Baldur's Gate and—AGH YOU BITCH!—“

The vampire's red eyes caught the glint of a blade just as a deafening howl of pain rang through the bog. To his surprise, Wren stood practically on her tip toes, holding the hilt of dagger in her non-dominant hand (where had she been hiding that?). The barbed edge of her blade was lodged soundly in the Gur's eye, and she twisted the hilt of her blade violently, grinding it further down into the depths of his socket. The brunette woman's scimitar simultaneously burred a hole into the man's abdomen with a sickening squelch.

Ribbons of red shot out of the intruder's newly opened orifices as he roared through his pain in a flurry of curses. Wren may have had the element of surprise, but it was quickly apparent that she was no match in physical strength or close-combat prowess when compared to the outsider. The large man tackled the ranger to ground with a crack — 'Her bones or his?' — and his mammoth hands drew desperately around her face.

The Gur's strength was enhanced by a potent mix of agony and adrenaline, exploding him into a fit of violent rage, Wren his only target. One thumb was lodged firmly in the brunette woman’s right eye socket with ease and the other giant paw held her chin in a vice-like grip. The burly male smashed Wren’s head haphazardly into the ground below, sprays of blood salting the earth; the blade that had taken purchase in his eye clattered to the ground. Wren still clung to her scimitar but was unable to wield it to her advantage while under the overpowering weight of the stranger.

Astarion shot forward with his dagger raised, but the mud-riddled terrain stuck to his legs and pulled him into an infuriatingly slow pace. He felt his anger ricochet through his body, cursing the bog and everything in it to the nine hells as he was forced to watch his female allies face the man’s wrath. The warlock and wizard anxiously studied the encounter, their keen eyes searching for an opening; both the spellcasters were painfully aware that they risked hitting one of their allies in such a close fight. For a brief moment, Gale's attention flicked to Astarion and he cast a longstrider spell towards the pale-elf, hoping to aid the rogue's advances. Day later, Astarion would reflect on the fact that it was the first time the wizard ever offered him a hand in battle.

The sturdy stranger landed a final, wrathful blow to Wren's face just as Karlach bulldozed into the Gur, knocking him prone. The female soldier straddled either side of the monster-hunter’s torso, pummeling him with her bare fists as she bellowed a war cry. Scratch lunged forward and grasped the stranger's forearm in his maw, ripping a chunk of flesh from limb.

The Gur grabbed Wren’s bloodied dagger from the ground and stabbed half-blindly at the dog; the blade sliced at the animal's maw and shocked it into retreat. Another swift strike to Karlach left the dagger securely fixed in the side of the tiefling's knee. That searing shock of pain halted the red woman’s onslaught just enough for Gandrel to toss Karlach aside and catapult himself back toward the brunette he'd marked as his quarry.

The ranger was back on her feet now, trails of blood leaking from her eye socket and the gaping wound near her temple. Her hair was caked with filth and crimson; she'd dropped the weapon she'd clung to moments ago. She was swaying, her vision blurred by the endless waterfall of blood coating her face. A sick, twisted smile spread across her mouth as she welcomed the Gur’s tackle, willingly crumpling like a ragdoll under his weight as he snapped his fingers around her neck.

Astarion finally made it to the center of camp, whispering a small prayer of thanks to the gods that never answered him for Gale's clever spellcasting. As the vampire readied his dagger to join the thrall, a burst of blue energy shot through the Gur, forcing a strangled scream from his bloodied mug. Wren echoed the outsider's cries, hands gripped around his beefy forearms. She was a conduit to the energy she’d summoned in her fury, and an overpowering crackle of electricity broke into buzzing fractals around the two.

The dense wetness of the swampland gave immense power to the lightening's current. A dome of jagged blue lines surrounded Wren and Gandrel; the electricity buzzed threateningly as it snapped its energy around the camp. Karlach made the mistake of reaching for the Gur and was punished with a jolt that knocked her prone. The Gur could no longer scream, now paralyzed in the half-elf woman’s grasp, but Wren was still hissing a groan of effort through clenched teeth. The ranger was exhausting all of her energy with the force of her spell, and all at once the azure streaks of lightening reverberated through the sky and dissipated. The Gur's body was still situated over her frame as her arms dropped with a squish into the bogland.

Astarion plunged the final few paces forward, using the opportunity to bury his dagger in the Gur’s throat as the outsider’s body shuddered with aftershock. An agile removal and snappy reinsertion of the blade, followed by a satisfying slice of flesh, and the vampire deftly severed the stranger’s jugular. Blood sprung forth in a foaming cascade of ruby, and the Gur choked out his final, strangled cry. The vampire shoved the threat’s limp body to the side in an effort to relieve Wren of the Gur’s weight. When Astarion turned to his companion, he nearly vomited the meal she'd given him last night up at sight of her. A pool of ichor and muddy water lay beneath her, brown and pink swirling in a filthy basin of water. The little bird appeared unconscious and unaware of the victory; her face full of burgundy, blue, and brown. Her right eye was imperceptible through the well of blood that sat in the socket; the left side of her face was caked crimson and swelling profusely.

“Get up, damn you!” The silver-haired elf gripped at Wren's shoulders. He shook her violently in his desperation to return her awareness to their plane of existence. The woman's head lolled sickeningly until Wyll’s hands grasped Astarion's arms and pried him, with much effort, away from Wren.

“Astarion! Stop! Get a hold of yourself, you’re going to hurt her.” Wyll shouted his plea. Astarion was clawing at the warlock’s insistent grasp, a string of empty threats escaping his mouth as he fought to make contact with Wren. Karlach and Gale both rushed to examine Wren while the pale elf hissed insults and threats through his fangs. The dam of panic seething inside burst without warning, and the rogue emitted a choked, agonizing cry. He continued to claw at the Blade of Frontiers, but Wyll remained steadfast.

"Please, Astarion." The warlock whispered, and finally, the vampire relented.

Shadowheart and Lae’zel tore through the treeline simultaneously, the unlikely pair making a dash for the heart of the group. Lae’zel holstered her blade when she realized the threat was neutralized, but quickly cast her gaze around the camp to assess if there were anyone coming to avenge the intruder. Shadowheart sank down in the muck and held her hands over the ranger, reverently reciting healing incantations.

Several painstaking minutes passed; everyone’s eyes were fixed on the limp body of their leader. Finally, Wren gasped a shuddering breath, and a blanket of relief covered the group. The little bird jolted in fear, reaching out to grasp whatever she could find. She desperately grabbed hold of Shadowheart’s wrist, fingers shaking. “Kol! Kol, I can’t see.” The confession was hushed with panic, the ranger's voice wavering at the end.

The entire group stood still, their relief sliding into unease as they watched the terror and pain overwhelm Wren. She was groaning, one hand clasped over her right eye. “Kol, gods dammit! Say something, I beg you!” She wailed in distress as tears began to stream from her left eye, narrowly escaping between bruised, bulged lids.

No one knew what to do in that moment but stand in a cloud of solemn silence and confusion. Mercifully, Gale mustered the courage to unleash a pink whisper of a spell upon the half-elf, knocking her into a slumber. She slumped against Shadowheart, and the group exchanged anxious glances, but no one dared to say a word... no one could think of what to say. After another breath of silence, Wyll released Astarion and moved to pick the ranger up. He carried her towards her tent, Shadowheart trailing closely behind and continuing her incantations.

Astarion remained on his knees in the mud for what felt like ages as he processed the entire battle. He stared at the blood Wren left behind, fingers dumbly grasping for where her schmitar lay beside him. The woman had been both captivating and terrifying in her uncharacteristic fit of rage. Up until this point, she was typically more inclined to stealth and tactical moves, attacking from the shadows or luring enemies to their death one by one. In most altercations, Karlach and Lae'zel had been in the forefront of the battle and Wren typically hung back, defending them with a well-placed arrow.

The vampire's head reeled. While she was terrifying in the center of battle rather than on the edges of it, her characteristic level-headedness tossed aside, she had been even more terrifying to Astarion in her panic. His gut rolled again as the flashes of her limp and bloodied body looped in his mind and he gagged, desperate to relieve the tormenting waves of nausea. Nothing came. Everyone rushed around him, tending to their own wounds or the wounds of their campmates, but the vampire couldn't make himself move.

Finally, Karlach came to him, offering a red hand to the pale elf. “Come on, soldier, let’s get you over to your tent. I think you just need to lay down for a bit.” She muttered, patting the elf's back with a strong but comforting hand as she hoisted him up. All Astarion could do was dumbly follow the tiefling woman as she walked him to his bed. Karlach was wincing as she bore weight on a still-tender knee and pushed him gently into the confines of his own tent... which he remembered he hadn’t even slept in the night prior. “Get some rest, mate. And then go check on your girl.” Karlach whispered, placing another small pat on the elf's back before she stumbled away.

'His girl? His… girl?' The sentence floated in the vampire’s head as he lay on his bedroll, too tired to move. His exhaustion from the restless night prior and the events of the morning forced the vampire into a trance. The words "his girl" echoed in his mind as he slept, the relentless chant lulling him through the merciful peace of sleep.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x original female character #astarion x tav #baulders gate 3 #baulders gate astarion #baulders gate tav #bg3 fanfic idea #bg3 fanfiction #slow burn #bg3 blogging #bg3 brainrot #bg3 ranger

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maria021015 · 5 months ago

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SPOILERS AHEAD FOR CHAPTER 54!

“Zay, can we talk? About what happened before?” Stiles asked her in a hushed voice as they walked out of the school towards the Jeep.

Zaida took in a shaky breath, her heart caving in on itself within her chest at the mere mention of what had happened. The image of her best friend and the boy she cared so much for, so close together, was burned behind her eyelids. Every time she blinked it was there, reminding her of her stupidity. Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.

“About what?” She feigned ignorance, walking faster so he couldn’t see the barely concealed pain on her face.

“Zaida, you…come on, you know what.” He hurried after her, stumbling over his words. All that was running through his head now was, how was he going to fix this?

“No actually, I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She insisted, clearing her throat when her voice came out far more hoarse than she would have liked.

She couldn’t understand why he would flirt with her when his heart still belonged to the redhead. Had she been imagining it? Had she been delusional this whole time? Had he done it on purpose to mess with her? But no, Stiles wasn’t like that. He’d given up on Lydia and had settled for her instead - for the girl who was always there. For the easy option. Then when Lydia had made her move, Zaida had just fallen away - not even a real competitor, just collateral damage. It was the only explanation that made sense. Anger crackled and burned within her, casting a dark soot over all the memories she cherished - all of the times she spent with Lydia and Stiles. They were corrupted now, only serving as a reminder of what might have been if she was enough.

But Zaida had never been enough. She wasn’t smart or athletic enough. Not enough to make a real difference in anything. Not like Xander, who was a powerhouse in both areas and had fought off Deucalion on his own to escape that night at the mall when she had failed. She wasn’t cautious enough. Not for Xander, who had always wanted her to be more careful. To be more selective. More cynical. To be a hunter as he was. To be like Allison. She wasn’t enough of anything for Stiles. Stiles wanted Lydia, and Zaida was nothing like Lydia. She was just there. Was that all she was? A placeholder for him?

“Please, Zaida, at least just let me explain-” Stiles begged her, desperate to clear the air.

“If you keep talking,” Zaida quickly interjected, her jaw clenching. She was spiralling and she knew it, but she couldn't afford to - they had more important matters to deal with. “I’m going to make an extra thick icicle with a really sharp tip, and I’m going to shove it, right up your-”

“Okay, okay! I’m shutting up!” He interrupted before she could finish her vulgar description, his face twisting at the thought of such a method of torture.

Zaida climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep, and when Stiles joined her in the driver’s seat his shoulders were sagging and his energy was flat. The emotions that echoed through his door in her were only a further admission of his guilt and Zaida didn’t want to feel it anymore. She thrust her blocks firmly into place, shutting him out completely as she turned her knees towards the car door, fixing her gaze out the window.

She wasn’t enough. Not enough. Never enough. She never would be.

“It has to be on a telluric current, or maybe even at the axis of two, or where they all intersect. We just know it's where Derek took Paige to die.” Stiles explained to the others as they peered at the marked map of Beacon Hills that was spread over one of the metal tables at the clinic.

“My dad and Gerard were there, once. But Gerard said it was years ago and he couldn't remember where it was...And, my dad obviously isn't here to tell us now.” Allison swallowed, her eyes bloodshot the only evidence that she had been crying.

“Yeah, mine either.” Stiles added morosely, finding it hard to focus when Zaida was on the other side of the room, her arms crossed over her chest as she refused to even look in his direction. From the looks exchanged between their friends, they all noticed the tension.

“Lydia’s heading back from the loft now. We thought Peter and Derek - or at least one of them - would remember how to get there but apparently not. Talia Hale took the memory from them somehow.” Zaida added, her hazel eyes simultaneously dull and simmering with quiet rage. The redhead had messaged her the information and Zaida hadn’t bothered replying with anything other than ‘meet at the clinic’.

“Then how do we find this place?” Issac chimed in from over Stiles’ shoulder.

“There might be another way…” Deaton looked apprehensive. “But it's dangerous. We're gonna need Scott.”

“Well Scott hasn’t been answering his messages.” Stiles revealed bitterly.

“The alphas are hunting your sister,” Zaida turned to the veterinarian. “Morrell was missing from her office, but it didn’t look like there’d been a struggle so I don’t think she was taken. I think she ran. Where would she go?”

“If she was running? She’d want to be in the one place where she’d have the advantage. The woods.” Deaton stated, retaining his serene demeanour.

“Then that’s where we’ll find Scott. Once we’re close enough I can track him down,” Zaida tapped on the side of her head, indicating she’d be able to sense him.

“There he is,” Zaida pointed out the approaching figure as sticks snapped beneath her boots.

“What are you guys doing here?” Scott questioned them, emerging from the brush. “I could hear you from a mile away!”

“That was kind of the point,” Zaida tilted her head at him. “We need your help to find the Nemeton.”

“How’d you guys find out?” His brows met together in curiosity.

“Lydia’s drawings.” Stiles answered. “You?”

“Morrell. None of the other Alphas know where it is, either.” Scott shared with a grimace.

“So, if this works, are you gonna tell them?” Stiles eyed his best friend warily. He didn't like the trust Scott seemed to be placing in them, especially considering Deucalion was after Zaida. In his mind, that was clearly a conflict of interest.

“I can't stop Jennifer without them.” Scott reasoned with a sigh, indirectly answering Stiles’ question.

“How about we concentrate on finding your parents first?” Deaton interjected before any of them could get carried away.

“What's the plan?” The werewolf asked.

“Essentially, you, Allison, and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents.” As the words left Deaton’s mouth Zaida’s head snapped towards him in alarm. He hadn’t mentioned that.

“We die for them?” Scott clarified with a stunned expression.

“But he can bring us back!” Stiles exclaimed, then turned to Deaton to double check. “...You can bring us back, right?”

“You remember the part where I said it was dangerous?” The man pursed his lips. “If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds...But, there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous ritual for more reasons than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton, a place that hasn't had power for a long time. This kind of power is like a magnet - it attracts the supernatural, the kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill a bestiary with. It will draw them here, like a beacon.”

“Doesn't sound worse than anything we've already seen…” Stiles shrugged, brushing it off.

“You'd be surprised at what you have yet to see.” Deaton warned, and Zaida’s stomach churned uncomfortably. She didn’t have a good feeling about this at all.

“Is that it?” Scott questioned, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“No. It'll also have an effect on the three of you. You won't be able to see it, but you'll feel it...every day, for the rest of your lives. It'll be a kind of...darkness around your heart, and permanent, like a scar.”

“...Like a tattoo.” Scott mumbled, rubbing the bands inked into his arm.

“At this point, we’re out of options. It’s either we do this, or our parents die.” Stiles reminded them all of what was at stake.

“I’m in,” The werewolf nodded decidedly.

“You’ll each need something that belonged to your parent - something important to them, but also something to connect you to them. Something that holds a lot of sentimental value.” Deaton advised them.

“We’ll meet back at the clinic when you guys are done.” Zaida instructed and returned the way they had come without another word. Deaton followed after her, leaving both of the boys behind to gather the required items.

“What’s wrong with her? Did something happen?” Scott asked Stiles once the girl was out of earshot, picking up on her chemosignals.

“Yeah, she walked in on me and Lydia and now she’s pissed and she’s refusing to talk about it.” Stiles let out a heavy sigh, frustrated with himself.

“You and Lydia?!” Scott repeated, his brown eyes widening.

“Nothing happened!” Stiles exclaimed insistently, his arms flailing about expressively. “Well, something…something almost happened, and that ‘almost something’ was what Zaida saw.”

“What do you mean something almost happened?” The beta was outraged. “I thought you were done with Lydia! Don’t you like Zaida now?”

“I am done with Lydia. If anything, whatever almost happened today just confirmed that I have zero feelings for her whatsoever. She grabbed my face and came really close like she was going to kiss me,” Stiles suddenly reached out and gripped Scott’s face, mimicking the redhead’s earlier actions. The werewolf looked mildly uncomfortable and very confused. “And at that point, I just felt nothing, and I knew that even if she wanted me, I don’t want her anymore. I just want Zaida, more than I’ve wanted anything.”

“Really? Even more than you used to want Lydia?” Scott questioned, still only inches away from his best friend’s face.

“Yes! Even more than the erasure of the absolute heresy that is the Star Wars sequels!” Stiles insisted, grip tightening on the werewolf’s face.

“Why are we still doing this?” Scott asked, referring to their close proximity.

“I don’t know. I honestly thought you’d push me away a long time ago.” The boy admitted and Scott slapped his hands away, stepping backwards.

“Bro, you’ve gotta fix this.” Scott urged his best friend, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I know! It would be a lot easier if she’d actually talk to me about it.” He huffed. “And right after things were finally starting to get somewhere too!”

“What do you mean?” The werewolf questioned, frowning once more on confusion.

“Last night, at the hospital, we kind of had a moment…” Stiles revealed, cheeks warming at the memory of it.

“A moment?” Scott repeated, a slow and amused smile spreading over his face.

“A moment! You know, like a vulnerable conversation - a moment! It was a moment!” Stiles snapped erratically, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, we were talking about the deep stuff, you know? And then- well, then I started flirting with her a bit. Just to test the waters, you know? And then…well, then she started flirting back and it was awesome.”

“And then you ruined it.” Scott nodded as he followed along.

“Yes, Scott, thank you for the reminder.” Stiles narrowed his eyes bitterly.

“She probably thought that the something that almost happened, did happen.” The werewolf continued.

“Yes, I am aware.” The boy scowled, not really needing to hear what he already knew.

“She probably thought that you were messing with her.” Scott added and at that Stiles froze.

“What? Where- Where’d you get that from?” He spluttered. Was that really what she thought? That he'd just been playing with her feelings?

“It’s what I would have assumed, if I were in her shoes.” Scott shrugged.

“But- that’s not true at all!” Stiles protested irritably. Also, since when did he go to Scott for girl advice? And since when was Scott’s girl advice actually good?

“But Zaida doesn’t know that!” The beta pointed out. Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but he really couldn’t draw together a solid argument against that. He ended up sealing his lips with a loud huff of annoyance.

“I’ll fix it, okay? But how are you going to fix this mess you’ve gotten yourself into? Joining the alpha pack? Seriously? How could you think that was a good idea?” Stiles shifted topics, putting his best friend on blast for abandoning them the night before. “You know, this pack is like the mafia - once you join, the only way you’re leaving is in a body bag.”

“I’ve got a plan, Stiles. You’ve just gotta trust me.” Scott assured him, promise behind his dark eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what Zaida said,” He muttered under his breath. Yet again, all things led him back to her.

“All right. What did you bring?” Deaton asked as Allison was the last of the group to arrive.

They all gathered around three giant metal tubs filled almost to the brim with ice, water and various Celtic herbs and flowers. Zaida, Isaac and Lydia had spent their time helping Deaton move all of the tables out of the way and prepare everything necessary for the ritual. They had done so in awkward and thick silence.

“Um, I got my dad's badge.” Stiles turned the warped metal over in his hand, the light glinting of the damaged surface. “Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a little bit. Still doesn't look right.”

“Well, it doesn't have to look good if it has meaning.” Deaton smiled faintly. The Sheriff had also been his friend.

“Is that an actual silver bullet?” Isaac asked as he caught sight of the small, shiny object between Allison’s gingers, stamped with the Argent family crest.

“My dad made it. It's kind of a ceremonial thing.” She explained its significance. “When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a Hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the Code.”

“Scott?” Deaton prompted the werewolf to show them his item.

“My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked.” He gazed down at the watch and not for the first time since meeting Scott’s dad, Zaida wondered what the history was there.

“Okay. The three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you under until you're essentially...well, dead.” Deaton prepared them for what was about to happen. “But, it's not just someone to hold you under - it needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone with a strong connection to you. A kind of emotional tether.”

Despite the situation, Zaida found her eyes drawn to Stiles as she recalled similar circumstances they had experienced together. Months ago, he had held her under until she had almost died. He had been the one to pull her back. He must have been remembering it too because their eyes locked, sending a jolt through both of them before Zaida quickly turned away.

As Zaida crossed the room, headed for Allison, Deaton stopped her by holding out his open hand. “Zaida…You go with Stiles.” He instructed and she froze.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It should be Lydia - you said it needs to be a strong connection. An emotional tether.” Zaida muttered bitterly, lowering her eyes.

“Which is exactly why it needs to be you.” Deaton insisted sternly. “Lydia will go with Allison.”

This time Zaida wasn’t the only one who noticed the longing in Isaac’s eyes as he looked towards Allison. And what was even stranger, was Allison glanced at him as well. Scott tilted his head, eyebrows twitching downwards slightly in confusion, but he brushed it off rather quickly.

Zaida took in a deep breath as she moved over to stand behind Stiles as he peeled off his shoes and socks, forcing herself to push everything else aside and focus on the matter at hand. The stakes were high - this was literally life or death. Stiles' own words jumped to her mind - “I’m about to drown my best friend. I don’t know how I could ever be ready for that” . It was only now that she stood in his shoes that she understood what he’d meant. Climbing into the tub, Stiles clutched his father’s mangled badge in his hand. The boy gritted his teeth against the freezing temperature, but pushed through it, lowering himself to sit inside, his legs outstretched. Allison and Scott did the same on either side, gasping at the cold.

“By the way, if I don't make it back and you do, you should probably know something…” Stiles’ voice trembled along with his body as he turned to his best friend before he went under. “...Your dad's in town.”

Scott’s eyes widened for a moment, but he didn’t have time to ponder the information as Deaton moved into position behind him, setting a hand on each of his shoulders. Lydia and Zaida followed suit but the brunette hesitated for a moment, her hands hovering over the fabric of Stiles’ shirt before she forced herself to grip him. The boy’s chest heaved, taking in desperate and deep breaths as the panic set in. It struck Zaida through that chestnut door in her mind, almost blowing the lock off, but she barricaded it shut. She’d be no use as his tether if she somehow went under with him. Even once her blocks were firmly in place, she still felt anxiousness churning within her stomach, though this time it was indeed her own. She might never see him alive again. She might not be able to pull him out.

“It’ll work,” Stiles whispered, assuring her - or himself - as if he was able to read the thoughts in her mind. Would it work? It had only worked last time because of what Stiles meant to her. He’d made it clear that she didn’t matter to him in the same way, despite his pretty words that morning.

“On the count of three,” Deaton spoke serenely, and Zaida felt Stiles shudder beneath her grasp. “One, two…three.”

On the final word Zaida held her breath as if it was her that was going under, pushing downwards and watching Stiles squeeze his eyes shut and he slid beneath the icy surface with no resistance. For a few moments, he remained still and peaceful, bubbles of air escaping his lips and slowly rising to the surface. Then he began to thrash against her hold - they all did - fighting to come up for air. Zaida’s guts twisted with guilt as she held him down, her hand almost slipping off his shoulder as he twisted to get away. She knew he didn’t actually want to come up. She knew it was his survival instinct kicking in. However as it became easier to hold Stiles down - as his strength waned and he finally went completely motionless - Zaida still felt as though she had killed him. She didn’t realise she was crying until a single tear dripped from her chin, falling into the water below and causing the surface to ripple slightly.

As the seconds stretched into minutes it soon became clear that something had gone wrong. The three would not be waking up as quickly as Deaton had planned. Zaida couldn’t watch them like that, floating lifelessly below the water. Instead she wandered into another back room and busied herself with unpacking her friends' clothes from the bags they had brought, folding them neatly in a pile for if - no, for when - they would emerge from the freezing waters. At least then they would have something warm to change into. As she fiddled with the corners of a fluffy towel Deaton had provided, Lydia entered the back room. Zaida didn’t have to turn around to know it was her from the sound of her heels clacking against the tiled ground.

“Zay, I know you don’t want to talk about it,” The redhead began and Zaida’s jaw clenched.

“You’re right,” She spat through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But we need to.” Lydia insisted, moving to stand right behind her. “Please, just hear me out. Let me fix this. I need to fix this.”

“Lydia, right now I’m just trying really hard to hold it together long enough to deal with everything else going on.” She let out a stressed sigh.

“You don’t even have to speak, just listen!” Lydia pleaded with her, reaching out to touch her arm. As soon as her fingertips made contact, Zaida flinched away. “Zay, please. I am so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just panicked!”

“You panicked so you grabbed his face and kissed him?” Zaida snorted, whipping around to face the girl with an expression that was a mix between outraged and sceptical. “Right, because that makes so much sense!”

“What? No, I didn’t kiss him!” Lydia shook her head, green eyes growing wide. Then she winced. “I was about to, but-”

“Oh, and that’s so much better?!” Zaida burst out in dry and humourless laughter and she whirled to face the girl.

“No, wait-” Lydia backtracked, desperate to explain herself.

“You know what, no. Just stop. I don’t understand why you would do this to me. I have gone above and beyond for this friendship. I stood aside and I gave you every opportunity to be with Stiles, because I didn’t want to get in the way of something that might make you happy - someone that might be good for you for a change!” The brunette exclaimed, and once she’d open the gates, everything came flooding out. “The thing is, if you had told me you wanted him I would have stepped back for you in a heartbeat. But you didn’t tell me anything, you went behind my back and I had to walk in on it and react like a complete and utter idiot! And it’s not even like you were oblivious - I told you how I feel about him! You know what he means to me, and you told me you didn’t see him in that way. You told me he wasn’t your type-”

“And he’s not my type! I don’t see him as anything more than a friend - if that!” Lydia interrupted in protest, her guilt eating away at her from the inside out. Zaida had never spoken to her like this, but that only meant the girl had never been this hurt. And Lydia had been the one to cause it.

“Then why would you do it?!” Zaida didn’t even register the fact that she was yelling now, allowing her frustrations to get the best of her.

“It wasn’t like that, Zay. He was having a panic attack and nothing I was trying was calming him down - in fact, I think I was just making it worse. I didn’t know what else to do, and I’d read somewhere that holding your breath can stop a panic attack. The only way I could think of to get him to hold his breath, was…well to do that.” The redhead couldn’t even bring herself to say it, she felt so awful. “But I just couldn’t go through with it, and I didn’t need to because just grabbing him was enough for him to freeze in shock long enough to stop panicking.”

Zaida’s inferno of anger lowered to a simmer as she registered what the redhead was telling her. Lydia hadn’t kissed Stiles, and the only reason why she had been going to do so was in a strange, last-ditch attempt to stop his panic attack. The realisation that she had completely blown up over something that now didn’t seem nearly as bad was embarrassing, to say the least. Her best friend hadn’t gone behind her back to seize an opportunity to kiss the boy she liked after all.

“I’m not going to lie to you, I’m still angry. There are so many other ways - better ways - to stop a panic attack than that.” Zaida took in a deep breath, trying to calm her temper. She knew she could be irrational, and she had a knack for jumping to conclusions and blowing her lid occasionally. She didn't want to turn this into something bigger than what it was. Lydia hadn't meant anything malicious by her actions.

“You two have this ability to understand exactly what the other needs and you calm each other down like it's easy. You only have to look at each other, or start counting and you ground one another. I’ve seen you do it! And I can’t do that. When I tell you nothing was working, I mean nothing was working. I know it was stupid and awful, and I hate myself for it, but I genuinely didn’t know what else to do.” The redhead promised. “I am so beyond sorry, Zay.”

“Look, I…I know that it’s not an easy thing to deal with - especially being someone who hasn’t had any experience with it whatsoever.” Zaida sucked in another stabilising breath, trying desperately to be the bigger person and look at the situation from an objective perspective, pushing her jealousy away. “Panic attacks suck, and the only reason why Stiles and I can calm each other down is because we both know what it’s like to have them. We have our strategies that we know work for us. I can see how you would have arrived at the place you did, and under different circumstances - like, had I known what was actually going on when I walked in - I wouldn’t have freaked out the way I did.”

“Your reaction was entirely valid,” Lydia reached out to squeeze her arm in support, and this time Zaida didn’t flinch away. “I should never have even considered it. The last thing that I wanted was to be that girl. The girl I was before - the girl that made out with Allison’s boyfriend to get back at her and Jackson. The girl that hurt her friends and didn’t care. I thought I was past that.”

“I know you’re not that girl anymore, Lyds.” Zaida let out a heavy sigh, releasing some of the lingering tension along with it. “It’s just, for the longest time all Stiles could see was you, and I found a way to be okay with that because I didn’t want to resent you for something that wasn’t even remotely your fault. But things started to change and then it was like he was seeing me for the first time, and it made me hope that maybe I had a chance. Walking in and seeing you two like that just shattered it all, and it felt like shit. I still feel like shit.”

“I never wanted to make you feel that way,” The redhead shook her head, disappointed with herself. “You are the last person I ever want to feel like that. You are my best friend, and I love you more than anyone in the world. I hate that I was the one to do that to you and if I could take it back, I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“But you can’t take it back.” Zaida swallowed thickly. “And now I know that Stiles and I are never going to happen.”

“What? Why not?! Zaida, haven’t you noticed the way he’s been looking at you? How he’s been making any excuse to touch you and compliment you? How protective he is over you? How he goes absolutely insane whenever Isaac is around you? Stiles likes you!” Lydia exclaimed, not understanding how the girl couldn’t see it when it was so obvious.

“Maybe he does do all of those things, but it doesn’t matter, because you’ve always been the one for him Lydia. Today has shown me that the moment he might get a chance with you, he would take it. Even if one day he does choose me, I will always be his second choice. And I'm not going to allow myself to be somebody’s back up.” Zaida shook her head definitively. “I want to mean more than that.”

It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it happening again only solidified the fact that it wouldn’t be the last if Zaida let it. Stiles always went back to Lydia. If once was an accident, twice was a coincidence, and thrice was a pattern…that planted Stiles firmly past the pattern category. The boy would realise the redhead wasn’t interested and he would mope and Zaida would pick up the pieces, and after a while of him not showing any signs of still liking Lydia, she’d think that he’d moved on. Only for Lydia to show him the smallest bit of attention, sending him crawling back to her and leaving Zaida in the dust. Well she wasn’t okay with that anymore. Zaida wanted to matter to someone. She wanted dedication and loyalty and she wanted to be wanted. She wasn’t about to allow herself to settle for less than what she desired.

#teen wolf #teen wolf fanfic #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles #stiles x oc #teenwolf fanfiction #female oc #female original character #scott mccall #lydia martin

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vghtsupes · 3 months ago

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@thcrealheroes / CONT.

𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, that she was standing across from here, willing to help ryan in a way that he couldn't and helping him keep his promise to rebecca. in making sure that ryan wouldn't end up like homelander, he needed her help to help him learn and control his powers. as much as he dislikes supes, he would do anything for ryan and he didn't have anyone else that they could possibly 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭 to do this. hughie had always spoke so highly of starlight, he was the reason that butcher had even considered this because he trusted hughie and if he really thought that starlight could be trusted, he had to go with that. he was completely aware of the risk he was asking her to take, especially considering how closely she had to work with homelander. the one person who could absolutely not know what they were doing here. it had a 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥 year, though he was positive that homelander had spent most of the year searching for ryan, but he still hadn't found them and it needed to stay that way. butcher would do anything to make sure ryan could grow up in a way that rebecca had wanted, she just wanted the best for him and he had always been bad at keeping promsies, but this was a promise he wanted to keep.

𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭, knowing he definitely deserved the way she reacted to him because she absolutely had every reason to not like, not trust him and honestly, he was shocked she was here. she didn't owe him anything and it was just further proof that she was just a good person. but he was being geninue in saying that he appreicated that she was here and if she was going to keep showing up like this, he could at least agree to not be consistently arguing with her. butcher sighs softly, looking around the surrounding area as he nods, " he's doing okay as he can be. i know he misses his mom more than anything. he keeps having nightmares . . . about you know who, " he admits softly because it was the one thing he couldn't keep him safe from, he couldn't keep ryan from his own fears and his own mind. he could do everything else, he could keep moving him from place to place, he could fight to his last breath, but he couldn't protect ryan from his own nightmares. he hated seeing him cry and shout, knowing becca would've been so much at comforting than he was, but he was really 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 his best out here. he never thought he would be a good dad, but he was trying to do whatever ryan needed from him and he definitely wasn't perfect, but the two of them had each other and it had helped him not be completely consumed by grief.

𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, seeing that smile on her face and just taken back by how beautiful she is. nope, absolutely not. he could not afford to be distracted and think like that. she was here to help ryan and that was it. nodding his head, running his hand through dark hair, " yeah, he does. i told him that you were coming, he remembered you from that day . . . said you seemed nice, which i guess he's not wrong about, " he smirked, an almost playful tone to his voice as he looked away from her again. butcher didn't like admitting when he was wrong or 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝 help, but it was obvious that he didn't know what it took to help ryan with his powers, " he's inside with grace right now. he's scared of his powers, he hates them and fuck, if he chooses to never use them, i'm fine by that. but he knows he needs to learn to control them, " butcher tells her, knowing becca would be happy that he was doing this, she wanted ryan to not be like homelander and he was trying to make sure that happened, " just be patient with him, yeah? kid's been through enough, "

#thcrealheroes #vi. william ‘ billy �� butcher : 𝐢 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝.#iii. alternate verse : 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲.#ii. thcrealheroes ; annie & butcher : 𝟎𝟎𝟏.#( I FUCKING HAD TO )#( I AM READY FOR THIS VERSE )

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sjsmith56 · 8 months ago

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The Fae Elements, Part 2 - The Others

Summary: After a tough day in court Sage is attacked on her way to her car. She is rescued by several fae and wakes up in their stronghold. Buck tells her more about the fae world.

Length: 5.6 K

Characters: Sage, Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, Buck, Maria.

Warnings: Sam and Steve say too much, violence causing injury, talk of attitudes towards women including some condescension.

Author notes: AI images created by the author using Microsoft Copilot in Designer mode.

<<Part 1

⭐️ 🌕 ☀️

It had been a week since I last saw James Barnes. There had been no further contact with him, but I had noticed at several of my appearances in court, two other men in attendance. Both of them were distinct in appearance, strong featured, and like Barnes, with scents that identified them as being fae. One of them, a tall blond with broad shoulders, took notes as I asked questions of the CEO of that logging company that had actually ventured over a national park boundary during a clear cut, cutting down an old growth stand, as well as damaging the habitat.

In my request for an injunction, I wanted all logging in that area to cease immediately. Justin Hammer, the CEO, claimed it was a GPS error that sent them over the boundary and would not be repeated. I found it difficult to believe that a billion-dollar company, working in such a sensitive area, couldn’t afford better equipment. When he said it was the best, I asked him for the brand and model. With a wave of his hand, Hammer smirked, as if dismissing my question as unimportant.

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to understand how GPS works,” he replied. “It’s very complicated to a lay person.”

“Someone like me?” I repeated. “I’m an experienced camper and hiker who regularly goes into the mountains using GPS. I’ve never become lost and have always been able to find my way in and out. Is it because I’m a lawyer, or perhaps because I’m a woman, that you think it’s too complicated? Which is it, Mr. Hammer?”

He looked nervously at the judge. “Well, you don’t look like someone who would go camping. You’re in heels and wearing a business suit.”

“You’re also in a business suit and your shoes look a lot more expensive than mine,” I commented. “Does that make you more of an expert? Which GPS units do your crews use?”

“I would have to look that up,” he finally admitted.

“Would you like the court to recess so you can get that information?” I glared at him.

“Yeah, that would be good,” he said, as his lawyer began shaking his head. “Could we recess?”

The judge was not amused and frowned at him as he spoke to the man.

“Mr. Hammer, you were aware that you would be questioned extensively on how your logging machinery ended up a mile inside the national park boundary, caught in the act of felling a stand of trees that were several hundred years old. I would have thought a man in your position would have brought that information with him, especially if you’re going with GPS error as your excuse.”

“Well, I wasn’t … that is to say, I was led to believe that we would get a slap on the wrist,” he replied, while his lawyer looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. “It was an honest mistake.”

I brought out a stack of photos, offering them to the judge.

“Your honour, I would like to submit a series of photographs, showing the positioning of signs along the boundary of the park in question. They are placed every half mile, indicating that it is the boundary and if anyone crosses into the park, they are subject to the laws protecting the resources in those parks. Hunting, logging, and mining are expressly forbidden. We have photographs showing several of these signs knocked over and left in the clear-cut areas. It appears Mr. Hammers’ crews didn’t even bother to remove the evidence that they knocked the signs over as they continued their operations into the park. I move for an immediate injunction against any further logging in the area by Mr. Hammer’s company, and that a fine be levied for the destruction of the trees and the habitat they stood on.”

I passed the photographs to the judge as the other lawyer had already received them during discovery. I was really pissed off at this Hammer guy, as I knew that they had adequate GPS equipment, that would show them exactly where they were. The signs were also very visible and should have been obeyed without question. Instead, they ran roughshod over the sensitive natural areas. The park’s naturalists were still cataloguing the damage to the habitat, but it was extensive.

“I’m inclined to agree with you, Ms. Hawthorne,” said the judge. “I hereby grant the injunction. The fine to be levied will be determined after the extent of the damage has been catalogued. Mr. Hammer, if you want to be taken seriously in this court, I suggest you and your legal representative come prepared with more than assumptions. Court is now recessed to allow the next case to prepare their presentations.”

We all rose as the judge vacated the bench and retired to his office. As I gathered my files, placing them into my briefcase, I became aware of a presence behind me, as another scent reached my nostrils. The scent was pleasant, reminding me of warm breezes, as odd as that sounds.

“Ms. Hawthorne,” said a voice and I turned around to see the second man, a handsome man with an engaging smile. He offered me his hand to shake. “Sam Wilson.”

“You’re with Gaia Life, aren’t you?” I asked, as I had recalled seeing the name after I did some more research on them.

“I am,” he confirmed. “My colleague and I were sitting in on your case today. We were both impressed.”

The blond man was still making notes but looked up and smiled at me. His scent was subtle but reminded me of the ocean. Finishing his last sentence, he closed his notebook and stood up, approaching me.

“Steve Rogers,” he said, as he shook my hand. “You were impressive.”

“I was doing my job,” I said. “May I ask why you’re here?”

They looked at each other, and I got the distinct sense that they could speak without using their voices.

“Our CEO recommended we observe you in action,” said Rogers. “I believe you had dinner with Mr. Barnes last week.”

“I did, but haven’t heard anything from him since,” I replied. “I was under the impression our business together was finished.”

“About that,” said Wilson. “Mr. Barnes was called away to an emerging situation in another location which is why he hasn’t contacted you. We were tasked with reporting back to him on the status of this case and another one you will be continuing this afternoon.”

“Yes, HYDRA Mining,” I stated. “The pollution they’re getting away with is criminal.”

“What do you know of them?” Rogers looked steadily at me. “Mr. Barnes has concerns.”

“About my approach or the strength of the case?”

“For your safety,” said Wilson. “Sorry to be so blunt, but we’re kind of here to make sure you’re not in any danger.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. HYDRA did have some deep political connections but the runoff from tailing ponds in their mine just outside a national park had made its way into some sensitive fish spawning habitats, causing a significant drop in the viability of that fish population. Not only that, but the tributary they had polluted fed into a larger river system which was a major water source for several populated areas. People could become ill and perhaps die from the effects of that runoff.

“Why would Mr. Barnes think I’m in danger?” I looked at the pair, who again seemed to have a moment of nonverbal communication between them, almost debating what they could tell me. “I know what Mr. Barnes is. He was quite open with me during our meal together. Do you have a similar background?”

They looked at each other again, obviously surprised by my admission.

“We’re princes in his council,” said Rogers. “My responsibility is for the waterways while Sam deals with air quality.”

“Elements,” I said, impulsively. “You’re not just fae, you represent the classical elements. Mr. Barnes is forest, which is the earth, you’re water and Mr. Wilson is air. Who is fire?” I said it rather facetiously.

“Fire is an unencumbered element,” said Rogers, being quite serious. “She is not part of the fae council, as she is both dark and light, capable of causing destruction but also acting as a catalyst for life under certain circumstances. Fire provides light, warmth, and comfort but also death if it is not respected. If you wish to meet her, we can arrange it. She would be a formidable ally for us if HYDRA chose to act against you. She has her own issues with them.”

I wasn’t expecting to receive such an answer to my comment that I considered more of a joke, but apparently things in the fae world were taken much more seriously. I looked at my watch, having two hours until I had to return to the courtroom for the HYDRA hearing.

“We have time to go to my office and talk,” I said. “I’m not sure why Mr. Barnes thinks I need your protection, but I’ll let you make your case.”

They gazed at each other again, and frankly, it was already bothering me, then Wilson must have realized it was because he nodded his head.

“I apologize,” he said. “We’re so used to working closely together that we often dispense with audible conversation. It wasn’t our intention to ignore you. Let’s just say that you are an intangible element, like love, one whose essence can be overlooked as unimportant. But you are important, not just to Mr. Barnes, but to many more, both fae and human.” I must have looked confused. “You are truth, Ms. Hawthorne. It shines out of you like a beacon. To the fae like us, you are as important as any element, known or unknown. To those who worship the darkness, you shine a light on their evil that reveals them to the world. They curse you when you shine brightest, then wait for your gaze to look elsewhere, using the darkness to perform foul deeds.”

“You’re for real,” I said, sighing. “You believe this completely.”

“You’re a descendant of Lilith,” replied Rogers. “Your element is the moon. The ancient mortal men who wrote about you claimed you were the evil one who worked in the darkness but the fae knew otherwise. You spoke truth and shone a light upon the darkness, just like the moon. It is why you must be mated to the earth, to Buck … James Barnes.”

“Out,” I said, pointing to the door of the courtroom. “I’m not doing this. I’m not a beacon of truth. I’m an environmental lawyer who is passionate about my job. Tell Mr. Barnes that I don’t need his protection as no one in their right mind would believe all of this mystical mumbo jumbo that you just spouted. Coming from him, it sounded so poetic and romantic, but you guys are taking it a little too far. Leave me alone.” They spoke silently to each other again, with a worried look on their faces. “I mean it … don’t come back here. I don’t want to see either of you here again.”

Reluctantly, they left, and I sat down on the chair at the desk. I really should have been more sceptical of James Barnes. It was obvious to me now that he was the leader of some new age cult, using Gaia Life as their front. After turning him down, he sent those two acolytes to keep an eye on me, obviously hoping that somehow, they could convince me of my divinity, or whatever it was they wanted me to think. I had worked too hard to get to where I was. Being associated with a cult of any kind, even one with an environmental interest, would remove all validity to my position. It would make me a laughingstock and I would never be able to appear in a courtroom again.

After about twenty minutes I stepped outside the courtroom and didn’t see my two admirers, so I headed to the café in the building, needing to grab something to eat as the afternoon session was going to take all of my concentration.

Four hours later, I sat at the same desk in the courtroom, frustrated beyond belief at what had transpired in the HYDRA Mining hearing. All of my evidence had been presented, then the lawyer for HYDRA, Alexander Pierce, had poked holes in every piece of information, reducing my argument to pieces. Somehow, he had raised enough doubt that the mine was the source of the pollution, claiming that the toxins were naturally present in the watershed, a product of millions of years of weathering and land upheavals that had exposed underground deposits laced with multiple sources of the toxins. They had found the same toxins further upriver than where their mine was, claiming they were actually helping the environment by encasing them in state-of-the-art tailings ponds. He was very convincing, and I was given another month to come up with new evidence or face having the injunction dismissed.

It was disappointing and I decided to go home. It was late, I was tired, my feet and back hurt, and I just wanted to eat something, then lie in a hot bath for an hour, with soft music playing, before trying to sleep away my frustration. Outside in the dark it was threatening to rain, and I hoped it held off long enough for me to get to my car. A few rumbles of thunder in the distance promised a thunderstorm later, which I preferred to watch from my windows. Just before I reached my car a man walking towards me drew my attention. He was dressed in dark clothing, wearing a hoodie that covered his face. Just the way he walked made me uneasy, as his stride was aggressive. Trying not to stare, I kept my stance strong and focused on my car which was visible. As he passed me, I heard him turn then he grabbed me from behind and placed something cold and metallic into the side of my neck.

“I don’t carry cash,” I said automatically. “If you want my car, you can take it.”

His raspy voice grated against my ear, releasing a sulphurous smell that almost made me gag. “My master wants to talk to you, Ms. Hawthorne. We’re going to take a ride.”

For good measure he pressed the item further into my neck. I nodded and heard a vehicle approach from behind us, the sound of a sliding door reaching my ears. The next thing I knew I was on my backside and two winged men were fighting two men in black, presumably one of them was the one who pressed a gun into my neck, a gun that now laid on the sidewalk. The intensity of the fighting could be felt with each blow exchanged between the combatants, even though their hits were made so fast that I could barely see them. Scrambling to pick up the gun, I pointed it at one of the men in dark clothes who had momentarily stunned one of the winged men, who I recognized as Sam Wilson.

“I know how to use this,” I said loudly. “Stop what you’re doing and put your hands up!”

He smirked at me, twisting his face in a way that was almost cliché but was definitely frightening as his red eyes flared as he focused on the gun. Advancing towards me I shot him above the knee, making him scream in fury, but it didn’t stop him as he ignored the blood coming out. He struck me across the cheek then grasped the gun with one hand and my throat with the other, lifting me up so that my feet left the ground, and I started to choke. I could also smell something burning but didn’t know what. Just as I was about to pass out, I saw a red light from the sky descend on all of us and I was dropped, as he was dragged away from me like a rag doll. A flash of light was followed by the sound of thunder reverberating everywhere. Still stunned I watched as the two winged men, several other men and a woman fought the two red-eyed men who somehow seemed to have become many more. Then I felt strong arms pick me up and I was flown into the sky. Looking down at the scene was surreal, as the fight looked like something out of a superhero movie then I forced myself to look at the person who had picked me up.

“You’re alright,” said Buck, as he held me in his arms, while giant wings flapped from his shoulders. “I’ve got you. Close your eyes and I’ll take you to a safe place.” I tried to speak but he smiled. “Sleep.”

Whether it was a hypnotic command, or I was weary enough to pass out didn’t matter as I closed my eyes and descended into a dreamless sleep. How long I was out was unknown as when I woke up it was almost completely dark, except where the room was illuminated by the full moon that shone through the window. I was still in my clothes, although my shoes were off. When I sat up, I hurt everywhere, especially in my neck and I gingerly felt where the man had squeezed my neck tight enough to raise me above the ground. It was tender, as was my cheek, and no doubt there would be bruises.

There was a knock on the door to the room then it opened, and a woman came in, her face not visible in the shadows closest to the door. When she stepped into the moonlight, I recognized Maria, the woman who served the meal I had with Buck at the restaurant. She smiled at me.

“You’re awake,” she stated. “Mr. Barnes said you may have acquired injuries in the attack on you. If you come with me, I can show you to a pool that will rejuvenate and heal you.”

“Where am I?”

“A safe place,” she answered. “It is a stronghold and a spiritual place for all light fae. It is unseen by the outside world. Although we live and mingle with the mortal world we return here when our spirits need the solitude. You are a welcome guest, Ms. Hawthorne. Please, come with me.”

I stepped off the bed and picked up my shoes, prepared to put them on but she showed me her own bare feet, so I dropped them, feeling the soft carpeting under my feet as she led me to another door. It opened to a large tunnel carved in rock, lit up softly with a light source that seemed to glow in the walls.

“It is a phosphorescent light,” she explained, anticipating my question. “It lights without heat but draws energy through the rock to do it.”

After a short walk through the tunnel, we came to an underground cave pool, dimly lit by soft glowing walls, that gave it a definite muted atmosphere. Its blue green waters were warm, as a mist wafted over top its surface. The warmth from the waters was evident on my face, bringing out a sheen to my skin. She gestured to a bench where some clothing was laid out, then at a shower beside it.

“It’s a mineral pool with healing qualities,” she explained. “It’s perfectly safe but works best if you enter it unclothed. Shower first, and cleanse off any dirt from your skin. You may sit in the waters as long as you wish. No one will enter here without your permission. When you are finished, please dress in the clothing provided and you may exit through the blue door. Your clothes will be repaired while you are our guest. I will be waiting for you.”

She left through the blue door, and I stood there, reluctant at first to take off my clothes. I kneeled down, wincing at the pain in my knees, realizing they were skinned. Brushing my fingers through the water in the pool I was amazed at how warm and soft it felt. Struggling to get back up I went over to the bench and took my clothes off, then stepped under the shower head, looking for a control. It started automatically; a soft warm stream that felt amazing. Maria said I should cleanse myself and I looked for a product, finding only a sponge that I began rubbing against my skin. A natural foam came out of it that gently cleaned my skin, without irritating the scrapes and bruises I had. After I rinsed off, I walked to a spot where steps into the pool were laid and glided down into the warm waters, groaning loudly as I immersed myself in it. It was nirvana, as I felt the warmth in my bones. There was a ledge to sit on, that allowed me to be covered up to my neck and I sat there with my eyes closed for what seemed like an eternity. Bringing one of my knees up to examine it I was surprised to see the skin was no longer broken. In fact, it looked like new skin had already begun to grow. The bruises on my arms were gone and when I touched my neck there was no tenderness at all. Whatever minerals were in this pool were a miracle, although a part of my brain insisted there was likely some magic involved as well. Deciding it was time for me to leave this healing pool I made my way back to the steps, then showered to rinse off. A large fluffy towel dried me off and I put the clothing on; a camisole top, soft panties, leggings and a tunic, all in a soft brown colour that seemed to be iridescent, as I caught glimpses of gold in the folds. There were still no shoes, so I walked barefoot to the blue door, took one last look at this little haven then went through the exit. Maria was exactly where she said she would be, and she smiled at my appearance.

“You look much better. Please follow me.”

“Are you fae?” I asked.

“Part fae,” she answered. “My father is fae while my mother was mortal. She wasn’t a descendent of Lilith, but she became part of the fae world after my father intervened on her behalf and fell in love with her. They were together for over 80 years until her time came.”

“How old are you?” I immediately regretted asking that as it was really none of my business. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

“I am 86,” she answered, seeming not to be offended by my question. “My lifespan is unknown as the mortal part of me has the longevity gene. I could live longer than the normal mortal / fae beings, or I could be hit by a truck when I cross the street and leave this realm forever. I have already seen much, and I am prepared either way.” Her young-looking face was serene. “My mother had no regrets falling in love with an eternally youthful and beautiful fae. My own mate is fae and he is devoted to me, as I am to him. Our child will be free to marry who he chooses, fae or mortal. We share this world together.”

She stopped in front of a large wooden door, that was covered in a carving like something out of the Lord of the Rings. All around it the rock glowed and the light from the room behind the door glowed. Maria took my hand in hers.

“I know you have doubts,” she said. “He is still saddened by the death of his wife Daere. She was his life but after her sister was declared a witch and sentenced to death during the troubles, she wasted away in despair. He tried to save her sister but was too late and has felt unworthy of love ever since. That is why he could not offer it to you, not because you’re not worthy for you are.”

She knocked three times, then opened the door and gestured to me to enter. It was a library, with shelves of stone and wood carved into the space that seemed part of a mountain, except for a panoramic window that looked out over a vast valley. The room was lit by a fire that burned but had no logs, seeming to come out of nowhere. Buck had been sitting on a sofa and stood up at my arrival. Wearing blue jeans, a blue T-shirt and a brown leather jacket, with his hair loose around his shoulders he looked like a rock musician or an artist. He hadn’t shaved for several days, as evidenced by the short beard that graced his face and chin.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, standing up and checking my neck carefully from where he stood. “Your cheek is still bruised.” Placing his hand on my cheek I felt a warmth flow from his hand into my skin. After just a few seconds he withdrew his hand. “Better?”

“Better,” I replied. “That pool is amazing. You have healing abilities?”

He smiled, the skin at the corner of his blue eyes crinkling. “The pool is a marvel. The right combination of warmth, minerals and a touch of healing magic to fix almost anything.” He looked at his hand. “I gave you a few moments of my life force to remove the bruise. I can heal some things that way, but we use the pool for everything else.”

Everything except a broken heart … and my father.

We both started to speak at the same time, and he stopped, gesturing for me to speak first.

"Could you have saved my father with that pool?"

He didn’t answer for a long moment. "It was an option that would have helped, but was refused. I respected your parent's decision."

I wasn't surprised but I wish I had known as perhaps I could have convinced them.

“Thank you for having your two emissaries there,” I said. “I wasn’t very nice to them just a few hours before they showed up to rescue me.”

“They are still young and sometimes overeager to share their knowledge. The attack on you inspired another to become involved. She was angered at how they hurt you and made her decision quickly to intervene on your behalf. Steve and Sam spoke of the fire element to you, did they not? Her name is Wanda, and she is very powerful.”

“I didn’t believe them.” I frowned, feeling like I had misjudged them all. “I thought … I thought by the way they spoke of you and me, that they were part of some weird environmental cult …. I’m sorry. It was a lot to take in.”

“And now?” There was a hopeful quality to his voice.

“Why did they attack me?”

“First, because they know I was trying to court you to be my queen,” said Buck. “Secondly, because Sage, you are powerful, more than you know. I must be truthful and admit that I need your power to spread the light into the darkness of ignorance and misinformation that is being spread by those who wish harm upon our world. It is a darkness, one that would hold the population in a vice of misery. Those who are like the owners of HYDRA see people only for the labour that benefits their pockets. If they die from hunger, or pollution, or disease, they will turn to another part of the planet and exploit them instead. Many of them who take advantage are mortal, but there are also fae involved, those who have turned to the darkness instead of the light. They see themselves as masters of everything, not only on the ground but below and above it as well.”

It was a lot to take in. Just over a month ago I was mourning my father at his funeral and now I was in some sort of mystical retreat after being attacked by … something not of my world.

“Those men … their eyes were different.”

He nodded. “They are dark fae, more like demons really. Their master controls them. We have an idea of who that is, but he is well hidden from our abilities.”

Something must have shown on my face because he approached me cautiously.

“You are safe here,” he said with conviction. “No one can enter without being noticed. I will defend you with my life, as will the council and all the fae and part-fae who are present here.”

“I believe you,” I replied, then sat on an armchair. “Why am I so powerful and why now? I haven’t seen you in a week. Did you know this when you let me leave the restaurant?”

His face became serious. “The emergence of your power will take some time to explain. I did wonder about it but wished to learn more before I shared it with you. This may seem like I’m going on a tangent but what do you know of the connection between the moon, the equinoxes and solstices?”

I shrugged. “Is there one?”

“Yes, every time a full moon happens on either an equinox or a solstice, it is a time of great significance,” he said. “This year, 2024, there is a full moon on the summer solstice, June 21. The sun will be at its highest on this longest day, and the moon will be at its lowest on this shortest night. It is a time of new beginnings, a spiritual transformation.”

“In what way?”

He sat on the chair next to me, leaning forward, as if trying to determine how to tell me.

“A mortal descendant of Lilith, who mates with the fae king, can be transformed into a full fae herself,” he said finally. “Her transformation rejuvenates the fae, and more. Women carry the ability of childbirth, and the fertility of a full fae queen extends to the environment.”

“So, my value is in my fertility?”

His explanation wasn’t winning me over, especially since I got the feeling, he wasn’t telling me everything.

“It’s part of it, yes.” He seemed a little exasperated. “You are more than your womb, Sage. Much more. Perhaps at the beginning of thought and reason in ancient peoples, your fertility was the most important, as it was tied to the success of a community … to their crops, to their survival as people were born, lived, and died. In these modern times, your knowledge, and fearlessness in fighting against powerful forces is just as important. You may make arguments in a courtroom, but that is your battlefield, and you are its warrior.” I tilted my head, accepting his observation. He smiled, pleased that I had. “There are spiritual places around the world, that are sacred to the fae. They harness the energy of the elements.”

“Like Stonehenge?” I interrupted.

He smiled again. “Stonehenge is specifically sacred to the Druids and the Wiccans, built to celebrate important moments in the year, like the equinoxes and solstices. They are not fae although they share some of our beliefs. Our sacred places are more natural, and less known, as they are hidden from the mortal world. If you were to agree to become my mate we would consummate our marriage after the main ceremony, in two additional rituals, both of them in a sacred place. The first ritual would be at the moment the sun is at its highest on the summer solstice in a place open to the sky. The second ritual would be when the full moon is at its lowest on the solstice, in a place on the water.”

“You mean consummate in the sense of having sex?”

Buck gazed directly into my eyes; his blue eyes were almost hypnotic in their intensity. “That is part of the ritual, but it is also part of a pledge of devotion to each other and a promise to the fae kingdom to protect the natural world against threats. The result of the two ceremonies would be the transfer of some of my life force as well as the natural energy of the earth, sky, and water into you. Since my element is the earth and yours is the moon, it is symbolic of the relationship between the two, joined together in a cosmic dance that has lasted for an eternity, figuratively speaking. It is a formidable partnership that wields great healing power for the natural world.”

It was all so mystical, even for me, someone who grew up hearing and reading the stories of all sorts of mythological beings. My feelings must have been evident on my face because he stood up and gestured to me.

“I can see you must be at the limit of your patience. You are likely tired from your day. The effect of the healing waters is reinforced by a good sleep so I will walk you to your room.”

“I have hearings tomorrow,” I protested. “I’m expected there.”

“Of course,” he replied. “We will get you to your apartment in the morning with enough time to get ready for court. You have my word. For tonight, I believe you will be safer here.”

What choice did I have? I had no idea just where I was. I followed him out of that beautiful library, and we walked down the hallway carved out of those glowing walls. Soon, we arrived at my room, and he stood there as if he wanted to say more. Instead, he leaned over and kissed me gently on the cheek.

“Goodnight Sage,” he said softly. “I will see you in the morning.”

I opened the door and watched him walk away, his tall frame seeming to dominate the hallway as he retreated from my sight. Inside the room, there were sleeping garments on the bed. A bathroom was attached to the room and had cleansers and lotions that smelled wonderful. After washing my face and brushing my teeth I put the night clothes on then slipped under the sheets. The lights turned off almost immediately, likely through magic. For once, I had no problem falling asleep and had a good rest.

Part 3>>

Series Masterlist

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes au #fae #fae Bucky #fae king #steve rogers #sam wilson

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elistodragonwings · 1 year ago

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I am getting really concerned by the people on the left saying they won't vote for Biden anymore because of his support of Israel. And look, I get the emotions. I'm horrified by what's happening too and I'm angry (though not surprised) by our government's response, and I'm also horrified by the people who seem to think this is an acceptable way for the world to resolve it's problems... I think any sensible, caring person would feel intensely about this.

That's all the more reason to channel those emotions into determining our values, seeing clearly the situation we're in, and focusing on practical goals.

Are people's values really to risk letting us slip even further into authoritarianism, even further into the kind of societal and government thinking that lead to this atrocity, just to make a moral point? Because Biden may be fine with this overseas, but we all know the far right would do this right here AND let it happen elsewhere, if not take part in it (and if you think they wouldn't, might I remind you of all the black communities white supremacists burned in the 1920s, all the First Nations people forcibly displaced before that...we have a history here and nothing says we wouldn't do it again).

Someone I know said since she lives in a reliably blue region, she's going to vote 3rd party to "protest" Biden since she thinks it's "safe" to do so.

Biden doesn't care. He'll never know how you voted even if he did. But if enough people decide to "protest" like this, he might lose even a "reliable" area. And it certainly won't make a different if he gets the message then. It probably won't make a difference if you protest vote and he wins either. Margins are already so thin, what's the difference if it's a little thinner?

All you're doing if you vote like this, is telling the rest of us that you're willing to risk all of our well-beings, all of our chance to stop the slide into fascism, all of our chance to move forward and stop things like this from happening in the future, just to express how unhappy you are? I think we're all very clear about that! So what is your actual goal? Do you really think you're helping Palestinians by risking making it even harder to bring about change?

I know it's hard to do something distasteful. But our situation is bad and you can't force a good option out of it. It is not morally impure to be realistic, to make choices in a non-idea situation, even if it feels unpleasant. No one is going to get hurt worse than they already are if Biden/Democrats win again. A lot of people will get hurt a lot worse if they doesn't, and the far right has long been making plans to ensure the left won't get the chance again to have any sort of power. Things are getting worse and we can not afford to lose this.

If you are aiming to be a safe person who shows solidarity with the oppressed, then please don't endanger even more people as an expression of your outrage.

#israel palestine conflict #joe biden #us elections #us politics #elisto #voting

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burrowbabe · 2 years ago

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Give and Take - Chapter 4

You did not in fact go to sleep when you got up to your bedroom. Despite how exhausted you felt, you couldn't help but eavesdrop on the howling laughter coming from down by the pool area.

You should've gotten in the hot tub.

Your subconscious taunted you with fantasies of everyone trickling off to sleep, leaving you and Joe to your own devices in the hot tub. You would kiss him, you think. But again, as soon as you come face to face with him, you choke with anxiety.

A knock sounds at your door, slightly making you jump out of your skin as you're snapped out of your thoughts.

"Yeah?" You call, but no response.

With a huff of annoyance you get up and move to swing open the door to reveal Tana.

"Oh ... hey."

"You good?" she asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, why?"

"You just disappeared. Everyone was wondering where you were. Can I come in?" she asks apprehensively.

Moving out of the way to let her enter, she leaps onto your bed.

"Are you sure you're OK?" she presses again.

"Yeah, just tired I guess." you reply, joining her on the bed.

She sucks her teeth, "Bullshit."

"No seriously." You reply. You didn't;t want to sound defensive at the risk of having to spill what you're actually feeling. After last night's embarrassment, you feared that if you told Tana about Joe, she would meddle in the situation. Or worse, be upset because she likes him.

She stares at you with raised brows as if waiting for further response.

"Okay, if you say so." she shrugs. Getting up to head towards the door, you call her name, causing her whip around again.

"Yeah?"

"Do you really think I should start dating again?" you ask sheepishly.

"Oh, hell yeah." she responds.

With a maniacal smile and a wiggle of her eyebrows, she pulls a giggle from you.

"We'll have guys lined up out the door for you before you know it. We gotta get you a wax, hair appointment, nails -"

"Goodnight Tana ..." you say pushing her out the door.

Surprisingly, you had got a full night's sleep which surely made your head feel more clear. However, as soon as you spotted Joe eating breakfast downstairs alone, you felt uneasy again.

With a closed-mouth smile, you greet him quietly before grabbing a mug of your own to pour some coffee.

"How'd you sleep?" he asks.

"Really good actually." You respond, avoiding eye contact.

"Good. We missed you last night."

You meet his eyes with a pause.

"Really?"

"Tana near started whining that she was the only girl." he responds with a laugh.

"Oh, well, she'll get over it." you laugh. "She's always hanging with the boys when I'm not around."

"Do your friends tour with you usually or do they stay here?" Joe asks.

You join him at the kitchen island with your coffee.

"They usually come with me. They don't have much else to do." you shrug. "But I'm also recording songs on the road so my brother has to be there to produce."

Joe nods his head listening along.

"They're my posse whether I like it or not." you say, causing him to laugh.

With a short awkward silence, you both try to speak at the same time.

"Oh-"

"Sorr-"

"No you go ahead." you concede.

"I was just gonna ask what a good restaurant around here was. I wanted to call and make reservation for tonight."

"Depends how much you want to spend." you joke.

"I think I can afford whatever you guys want." he smirks.

You pretend to think for a moment. "Hmmm, well in that case, let's go to Catch. I could eat a good surf and turf meal for a family of 3 right now."

He laughs with his bright white smile.

"You got it. I'll call right now." he says.

At around 6 p.m. everyone began getting ready for dinner. You couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the afternoon after this morning's conversation with Joe. Some of your anxiety had gone away after realizing how easy he was to talk to.

You couldn't get his smile and the sound of his laugh out of your head all throughout your thorough self-care routine.

Always gotta be prepared. You think to yourself as you shave every inch of your body.

"Would you actually fuck him though?" your friend Pat asks you on the phone while you applied your makeup.

He was your gay best friend from back home in New York. You trusted him with anything and everything, but kept the identity of this guy you were interested in anonymous, just in case he were to blab to your mother. You wished to do the same with Tana, but she lives too close to easily put two and two together.

"No! Not tonight at least ..." you bite your lip with a smile.

"You lying bitch!" he laughs. "You are so down bad for him."

"Nuh uh" you protest.

"Uh huh!"

"I want to get to know each other more before that's even a consideration." you say, sticking your index finger in your mouth to clean the lipstick off.

"If you say so, girl. Text me later. You better have a juicy update!" Pat exclaims before hanging up with a 'bye' and 'I love you".

Catch was definitely high end, but you didn't want to look too extra. The outfit you chose toed the line between subtle and sexy.

The short, black cocktail dress hugged your curves, with a halter style neck that accentuated your breasts with no bra. Pairing you're crystal encrusted, open toed, Louboutin's with your small diamond tennis necklace, you spritzed yourself with your Chanel perfume before heading downstairs.

AJ, Joe, and Ja'Marr sat in the living room watching the Lakers play, pregaming the restaurant with some beers when you descended the stairs.

"You look nice." your brother compliments you with a smile.

"Why thank you, Anthony." you reply with a smile. You were the only one who called your brother by his full name, as much as he hated it, you were the only one allowed. He gave up arguing with you about it many years ago, and it just seemed to stick.

"Who are we waiting for?" Ja'Marr asks, throwing back the rest of his drink.

"Just Tana. She was on her way down when I just saw her." you reply.

"Speak of the devil!" AJ laughs.

Tana descends the stairs in a tight mini skirt and a crop top that barley covers her upper half. Clip clopping uncomfortably in her 8 inch heels, you can't help but stifle a laugh.

"You know we're not going to a nightclub right?" AJ jokes.

"Shut up! I look hot." Tana says, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder.

A few minutes later, you all load into the black town car that Joe and Ja'Marr had ordered to take you to the restaurant.

Catch was always packed with celebrity wannabe's and social media influencers, but regardless, you were bound to see someone you knew.

The waitress leads you all to a large table near the windows on the right side of the restaurant. This was the best seat in the house. Sitting in the seat across from Joe, everyone else claimed their spot at the table.

"While you're here, I'll take a White Claw." Tana states confidently before the waitress even finishes handing out the menus.

"Bitch, you are so trashy." you laugh. "Get some motherfuckin' wine like a grown up."

"Don't hate! It keeps me skinny." she shrugs. "Besides, why would it be on the menu if people shouldn't have it?" she questions matter-of-factly.

"Fair enough."

In no time, the drinks are flowing, the food is devoured, and overall, everyone is laughing and having a good time.

You begin to learn random things about Joe. Like he's a massive SpongeBob Squarepants fan, and he wears socks at the beach.

Your face had began to flush from the chardonnay you were drinking, but you liked how loose you were feeling in front of Joe. You shared some things about yourself as well, telling him about your mother and what it was like growing up in a strict Italian family. You confessed that you love The Office, and that you secretly love sour gummy worms despite your trainer forbidding you from having them.

All is well for the remainder of the evening until the waitress comes over with another round of, specifically, your drink only.

Taking it from her with a look of confusion, she motions to a table across the restaurant.

"This was sent from the gentlemen in blue over there."

Leaning to look past her, you spot your ex grinning at you, sitting at a table with another girl.

You heart sinks and you scoff in disgust.

"Tell him I'm all set, thanks." you say, handing the wine glass back to her. She takes it back looking equally as confused as you were before and walks away.

"What was that about?" Tana asks.

"Travis is here." you respond, grimacing in his direction.

She turns to look over her shoulder.

" ... and he's coming this way."

#cincinnati bengals #joe burrow #au #joe burrow fan fiction #fanfiction

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