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anystalker707 · 1 year ago

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Stop playing

Pairing: Suguru Geto x [male, amab] Reader Summary: Halloween night. Suguru has been teasing you for a while, but this is the last straw - he dressed up as your new fictional crush, König. That's personal. Tags: Bottom suguru / light choking / in the club's restroom / he thinks he's cool

Requested by @josukeslefttitty

Shibuya, October 31st

Thankfully, everyone was as invested in their Halloween costumes as you, so you didn’t feel out of place as your friends walked down the streets, sometimes attracting curious eyes. Other people also wore costumes, attracting your attention instead. The streets of Shibuya slowly got more agitated, even if you were still in the first hours of the night of Halloween. The chilly air of autumn didn’t seem to bother anyone too much, only contributing to the more intricate costumes, if anything, though some people defied the temperature anyway.

Satoru and Ieiri had decided it would be best to go for a pre-party—which everyone agreed with—to grab drinks and snacks at a convenience store before going to the real destination. Ieiri had a hand on Yu’s shoulder as she talked about something that made him blush a little; Kento walked beside them, ignoring Yu’s attempts to push him into the conversation and Satoru’s annoying comments. You had tried to get Utahime to come along, but she had spilled a lot of things about not hanging out with kids, so…

You and Suguru walked a few steps behind them, your attention focused on Satoru’s banter until you just snapped out of it and sighed, looking around the streets that kept lightened up by the glowing billboards and signs despite the darkening sky.

“You know,” Suguru’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts, attracting your gaze to his. His brown irises stood out with the black makeup around his eyes—you wondered how he’d look with that mask on, but he’d only been carrying it along with the helmet under his arm, so far. “We need to take a picture together later. Just the two of us. You’re looking really nice.”

A smile spread across your face at Suguru’s words, at the same time a warm feeling fluttered in your chest. “Of course, yeah, that’d be fantastic.”

It was difficult to ignore how Suguru looked in those clothes. He had dressed as your new fictional heartthrob for Halloween, rocking the military aesthetic and the feral air it had. Did he see the posts you’d made about König or something? Was it intentional? Damn. It was mostly accurate, missing some gear around the torso, but it was understandable, given the mobility. The beige cargo pants were a little tight, probably borrowed from someone else, leaving a nice space for imagination whenever you observed him a little too much. The outfit fit him so well that it was hard not to pull him closer and…

“Do you think my costume looks nice? I did my best to make it as accurate as I could.” Suguru asked, looking down at himself and then back at you with those charming eyes, as if he knew something you didn’t. Fucker.

“Yeah,” you muttered with a hum, glancing down at his outfit without checking him out that much, even if he’d potentially caught you staring earlier. It was difficult to determine whether you were being discreet or not while so immersed in thoughts. “Looks pretty good, though I haven’t seen you with the mask yet.”

Suguru raised his eyebrows as the smile on his lips widened, and he hummed. “Oh, right. Satoru and Shoko were bothering me about it earlier, so I ended up taking it off and forgot to put it back on. It’s not that great, just some shirt I cut holes in and tried to make it more accurate.” He stopped walking for a little just to put on the helmet and adjust the mask, doing it quickly, in a way you didn’t need to rush a lot to catch up with the others. “So?” His brown eyes blinked a couple of times through the holes in the mask, and your heart skipped a beat just at that.

“Oh,” you muttered, trying to keep your thoughts on track, and not about how hot he’d look… “Yeah, amazing,” you said with a nod. Suguru had to be doing that on purpose, no matter how you couldn’t find the familiar air of tease in his eyes when he looked at you.

At some point, Satoru had the helmet on instead as he walked around the convenience store, but Suguru kept the mask. He stood by Shoko with his arms crossed under his chest and weight over one of his legs in a way his hip popped out a little, talking with her absentmindedly, while she looked at cigarette boxes displayed behind a glass. How did he manage to be so hot while he wasn’t even trying?

Whatever Shoko said, it resulted in Suguru chuckling as he grabbed her hand and turned her palm up, tracing something on it. You wondered how it’d feel on you instead.

It made your thoughts race again, taking another turn as you forgot about what you were doing until Satoru shoved another glass of beer into your hand.

“Heh, what’s in your mind, (y/n)? I hope it doesn’t have to do with Suguru’s thighs.” He paused as he looked toward Suguru and sighed, shaking his head as if he longed for them. Maybe he did. Motherfucker.

“Just thinking,” you quickly excused, adjusting the beer bottles and cans of energy drink in your arms. “Shoko looks good,” you averted the subject, hoping he would buy it, and thankfully, Satoru seemed to be only using one brain cell right now, as usual.

“Oh, wait, we also need some candies. I want to make a drink with sour candies,” he muttered, pulling you along to the other side of the convenience store, but your eyes lingered on Suguru, meeting his gaze for a second.

Suguru dismissed your company on the way to the club, instead letting Satoru link arms with him while ranting about god knows what. Why did he decide to leave you? Had you become boring? Was he playing more games? A sigh escaped your lips as you shook your thoughts away.

“So…” Ieiri suddenly showed up next to you with a grin, rolling a lollipop around her mouth, one she’d grabbed from the counter at the convenience store. She read you very well. Just the way she looked at you compelled you to look away, shaking your head again; she giggled. “Yeah, there we go again.”

“Don’t say anything,” you told her with a playful pout, holding back a smile that threatened to grow even more at how she giggled again.

Shoko opened her mouth a couple of times, but whatever she pondered saying, was replaced by a simple shrug as she patted your arm lightly. Alright. Well, you had other things to focus on right now, and one of them was absolutely how Suguru’s ass looked in those tight cargos. If only you had the chance to squeeze it. Your hand ached just at the thought—just like your cock threatened to come to life.

Things only got more difficult as you arrived at the club. Despite the great number of people, the place wasn’t cramped up. It was a nice, clean club with cool Halloween decorations hanging around, selling themed drinks, as also themed songs played in the background. The smell of artificial fog lingered in the air as it rose, making the colorful lights more visible.

Kento sat with you on the same couch in a calmer area, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone or taking pictures of the others when requested. He talked to you a bit, but the conversation quickly dissipated.

Your mind couldn’t keep track of a chat while Suguru walked around like that, like a piece of meat waiting to be eaten. One that was supposed to be yours and not be touched by everyone like that. What was Suguru even trying to do? He didn’t like being touched that much, so there was no reason to keep a hand around Shoko’s waist like that or let Satoru keep resting a hand on his chest. Why couldn’t you do it, though? Only you. It made something burn in your chest, stiffening your muscles as you tried your best not to get up and do something. Hopefully, the glass of cocktail covered part of your annoyed expression.

It was, however, when you saw Suguru allow Satoru to pull his shirt up to take a look at his bare skin that you almost crushed the glass you held. Kento even glanced at you when you inhaled sharply, setting the glass down on the small table nearby before you stood up, eyes trained on the side of Suguru’s head.

Maybe you should focus on something else. You put the glass away and shook your head, trying to shake away the feeling and the thoughts as well. There was a nice song playing, so you moved over to the dance floor, squeezing past people to get on there with them—in contrast to the other areas of the club, the dance floor was crowded, full of people wanting to party the night away.

A couple of minutes passed by when you noticed the familiar costume, and your eyes widened a little noticing, Suguru there also dancing with you—no helmet again, which led you to presume Satoru had stolen it once more. It was okay, at first, but then he started pressing close, glued to you until his ass was practically grinding against your crotch. You gently pushed him away, but he stepped back again. Fucking hell…

“Suguru?” You talked into his ear, loud enough for him to hear over the loud music. “What are you—”

“It’s too cramped here,” he replied immediately, naturally, “what else am I supposed to do while it’s this crowded?”

What was he supposed to do? What were you supposed to do while he tortured you all night long? Fuck it.

Your hand wrapped around Suguru’s wrist to drag him with you without caring who was in the way.

You walked into the restroom with Suguru right behind you, the music becoming muffled as you walked into the space. It was well-kept, really, with no strong smells, black walls, and red-tinted LEDs above the mirror that stretched itself along the wall, over the silver taps on the black marble counter, and the doors to the stalls were also black. Only one person was in there, already leaving after washing their hands. Suguru stepped aside and watched them leave, about to say something when you closed the door and locked it.

Suguru’s eyes widened a little through the holes of the mask, and you imagined if he already presumed what would happen. Either way, he didn’t have time to speak anything—you pinned him to the counter first, a hand by each side of his hips as you looked at him in the eyes.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Your voice didn’t carry the same light tone from before, now with a tone that matched your serious look.

Suguru didn’t know where to put his hands, letting them hand in the air before they slowly settled down on the edge of the counter as well, beside yours. His breath was caught in his throat as his wide eyes watched you, blinking a couple of times as if it would help him think properly, but it didn’t do much. He gulped and was thankful he had his face covered. “What do you—”

“Come on, don’t play dumb,” you exhaled, placing a hand on Suguru’s chest, right in the middle, almost feeling his racing heart under your palm. Your fingers ran up and settled under his chin through the mask, keeping his gaze on you. “You know exactly what you are doing, and I can’t take it anymore.”

You wanted to kiss Suguru on the lips, but the mask was in the way, and he looked so hot wearing it… It could stay on for now.

“If you tell me to stop, I’ll stop.” Your eyes held Suguru’s gaze to prove the seriousness of your words, before your hands sneaked under his shirt to hold his waist, rubbing soft circles into his warm skin.

It almost felt unreal to finally be touching Suguru like that, with something buzzing under your skin as you tried to figure out what to do with him now that you had the opportunity. The list was long, that was the problem. It went from just playing with his nipples to pulling his hair back to watch the face he would make when your cock still bullied his prostate after an orgasm. What were you supposed to choose? If only you had all the time and privacy you wanted…

You pressed your lips together to contain the will to kiss Suguru, making him face the other way and looking at him through the mirror instead. Tension laced Suguru’s actions as well, but it was similar to the one you felt, with blood hammering in your ears while the arousal rushed through your veins and spread a warm feeling in your lower stomach. A bulge was visible in Suguru’s pants, struggling in the tight fabric of the beige cargos.

“Fuck, you must be sadistic or something, with the way you kept doing that…” You exhaled, hands returning to the marble edge by each of Suguru’s hips. Your eyes fell to Suguru’s hands, observing them curled into fists as their heels pressed to the marble, growing tenser when your hips pressed to his ass.

Suguru’s breath faltered a little, eventually growing heavier as you started grinding your erection against his ass. The silence that came from him gave you doubts that were quickly dismissed when he adjusted his position and moved his hips in sync, eventually snatching a moan from you as your cock got completely hard. Just the dry humping felt so good when it wasn’t with something like a pillow or someone you actually desired.

Eventually, though, Suguru cracked a breathy chuckle—it was hard to identify it without a full view of his face, but you could imagine a smirk tugging on his lips. “Please,” Suguru moaned, and his eyes were closed when you looked at him in the mirror, even if it was a little difficult to tell that. Hearing him ask for more made your skin rise in shivers as a wave of excitement ran down your spine, irises turning into thin rings around your blown pupils. He leaned forward until his elbows met the marble, pressing his ass back against your crotch with it.

“Oh, now you’re talking,” you muttered, much to his amusement, hooking your thumbs around his waistband to trail along it until both your hands met the buckle of the belt and started to undo it, and then the buttons, making it possible to lower his pants to about the middle of his thighs. Your tented-up pants pressed to his bare ass, and it was such a sight, compelling your cock to twitch in demand for attention.

You fished the packet of lube and the condom from your pocket before also lowering your pants and underwear, letting your cock rest heavily against his ass. Damn, you wished you could take a picture of it right now. Suguru even arched his back a little more, pressing himself back against your cock.

Suguru’s eyes observed you through the mirror, with anticipation and a shared need. His eyes narrowed lightly when you raised your eyebrows, sighing as you unpacked the condom and rolled it in before squeezing the lube over your cock, letting some drip on Suguru’s hole. Your thumb pressed to his hole, feeling it flutter under your touch until the ring of muscles gave in under your touch, and you could slip your finger in.

Not a lot of resistance greeted your thumb as it slowly dived deeper into Suguru’s walls, spreading the lube nicely. He groaned a little, walls clenching around your finger; his hips threatened to move, but you held him still with a hand around his waist.

“Feel good?” You tried to snatch more words from him, to get more of the feeling that stirred in your lower stomach with that attitude of his. “Come on, Suguru, I want you to tell me more about what you want.”

Once again, Suguru looked at you through the mirror. A weak sound escaped his throat when your finger pushed in deeper, slowly starting to thrust in and out of him. “I want you, idiot,” he breathed with a whimper, clenching around your finger. You limited yourself to smirking to prevent a chuckle. His voice was quiet, almost unintelligible under the muffled, beating song that came from outside, making you wish you’d find another opportunity to have him like that just to appreciate his sounds properly. “I— Damn it, fuck me already,” he breathed sharply and let his head hang in defeat, drawing a chuckle from you. Alright, alright.

“Now, we’re getting somewhere,” you said with a pleased sigh, with a new boost of arousal.

Your hand held the base of your cock, guiding it to Suguru’s entrance and pushing just the tip in at first, testing the waters. Suguru groaned, back arching as he pushed his hips back, so you continued. “Fuck,” you breathed, taking a deep breath to get through the sensation of his walls slowly accommodating around your cock. One of his hands reached back, holding on firmly to the forearm of the hand you’d pressed to his waist.

“Fucking finally,” Suguru said with a whiny moan, relaxing more over the counter. Of course, he’d let you do all the job.

The sensation of finally being inside Suguru like you’d daydreamed about so many times before was intoxicating, in a way that you needed to take a few deep breaths while thrusting in and out of him, slowly, watching your cock disappear in his ass a couple of times before looking at him through the mirror again. He looked so hot with that mask on, really.

A quiet curse fell incoherent under a moan as you settled down for a steady pace, slowly filling the room with the sound of skin slapping against skin. He felt so good around you, clenching around your cock so deliciously.

“How long have you been playing this game?” You breathed to Suguru, hooking an arm around his torso to press a hand to his chest, with his collarbones right under your index finger and thumb. A little pressure there was enough to have him leaning up enough for your head to be right next to his while you still thrust into him with the same intensity. “I almost believed I was making things up until you gave me no choice,” you said through a groan, tightening your grip around his waist, and letting your fingers sink into the soft skin.

Suguru gasped, a higher-pitched moan spilling from his lips as he arched his back, squeezing your forearm in some sort of response. “You’re just too slow, mmph— Fuckin’ took you forever.” His other hand pressed to the surface of the marble to help support himself up, even more so after your thrusts started getting faster. “It was s—so fun watching your desperate face whenever I did something, so st—stupid— Ahhh—” Suguru interrupted himself with a moan when you started thrusting sharply, moving your hand from his waist to grasp the base of his cock tightly. He hissed, holding on to the edge of the counter instead.

“Fuck off, I’m still gonna make you regret that,” you groaned. Your hand slipped under the mask, taking firm hold of Suguru’s neck; his skin was warm and sweaty, and his throat moved against your palm as he swallowed thickly. “I should’ve done this before,” you groaned, squeezing Suguru’s neck before he could make any funny comment again. “Did you think it was funny to dress up as my game crush and go around with those tight pants, letting everyone feel you up? Are you that desperate? Fucking shameful.”

“Well,” Suguru breathed, and you imagined he was smirking again. Motherfucker. “Maybe if you weren’t so slow… Nngh…” His back arched, cock twitching on your palm.

Was he making those remarks on purpose? Did he make them just for the way you responded? Damn it. Your hand tightened around his neck—not enough to cut off his air—, and you fucked him hard enough for his body to start rocking every time your hips met his ass.

The thought of Suguru teasing you all this time just to play clueless when you approached the subject, looking at you with that mischievous gaze… Your cock twitched, balls tightening as you could feel your orgasm in the distance, so you invested in fucking Suguru in that angle that made his ass milk your cock so deliciously, making him bend down forward a little more.

Suguru’s arms were trembling from holding himself up like that, but he knew better than to give up to the weakness that slowly crept up his muscles, fighting against it as he focused on the pleasure you made him feel. He could barely contain his moans, and the fact you were at a club vanished in the back of your mind.

“There’s still so much stuff I wanna do to you,” you breathed, observing Suguru’s eyes rolling back through the mirror.

Whatever he said in response fell incoherent through moans that only grew breathier and longer as you ran your hand up and down his cock slowly, and it was all it took for him to finally cum. His ass squeezed around your cock, driving you to the edge at the same time; shivers ran up your thighs before your balls tightened, and you finally came, thrusts stuttering as you rode through your orgasm.

A soft, last cry of pleasure escaped Suguru’s lips before your movements finally ceased. The tiredness became more evident after the urgency wore out, with blood hammering in your ears while your chest heaved up and down with your pants, but it didn’t stop you from lifting Suguru’s mask and pulling him for a kiss. The position wasn’t the best, all awkward and difficult, but both of you needed that kiss to the same extreme levels, groaning into each other’s mouth while trying your best to take as much as you could from the kiss, including tongues and teeth here and there.

“This is security,” the sudden voice cut sharply through the whole mood, making both of you freeze as a heavy banging came from the door. “Is anyone in there?”

✧₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✩₊˚.⋆☽⋆⁺₊✧

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #suguru geto #x reader #x male reader #geto x male reader #geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #fan fic #fan fiction #oneshot #imagine

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momotarotea · 7 months ago

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Sonic Big Bang 2024!

So part of why I've been quiet recently is that I've been working on my contribution for the @sthbigbang event!

Of course, I had to write a Shadamy fic. I also did an illustration for my fic, as did the immensely talented @waywardvessel

@sofibeth-arts

and @morefluid-thanwater!

Working with you three was a pleasure, and I hope you all enjoy the finished piece!

If you'd rather read this on AO3, here's the link!

Without further adieu, I hope you all enjoy ARK Angel :)

Summary: Life is a series of decisions, but what if one had gone differently? What if Amy’s pleas to Shadow on the ARK had fallen on deaf ears, and he hadn’t agreed to save the world? The only thing left to do would be to fight to save the world herself, wouldn’t it?

Discovering Shadow in an abandoned lab hadn’t been on Amy’s to-do list that day, but neither had heading into space, watching Sonic almost die, or anything else from the events of that day. With the Space Colony now plummeting headfirst towards the Earth, it seemed that she would be adding ‘begging Shadow to save the human race’ to her impromptu list of tasks, too.

She’d stopped in the corridor to give herself a pep talk when she’d spotted him - fear having gripped her momentarily at the sight of the pitch-furred hedgehog. After a deep inhale to steel herself, she darted over to him at the window, a fire in her stomach and determination on her face. Every step made her feel like her heart was going to beat out of her chest. He’d been nothing but trouble for her friends up to this point, and whether it had been intentional or not, she couldn’t help but hold it against him. He’d framed Sonic for his wrong-doings, tried to stop them at every turn, and now, he had refused to go with the others when they had rushed to the cannon’s core in an attempt to stop the ARK from destroying their world. She hated to admit it, but deep down, she knew he was the only hope. He was the only one who knew the space colony well enough to do anything meaningful in the time they had left - but getting his help would be no small feat.

“Shadow, we need you!” She yelled, practically tripping over her own feet to come to a halt next to him. She couldn’t back out on her plea now. He would either refuse, or save them all. There were no half measures here.

His eyes - the colour of blood, and just as spine-chilling - swept over the expanse of space before him, turning to her. “It’s all going according to plan,” he murmured, fixing her on the spot with a withering glare. “There is no reason for me to help them. Besides, there’s no way to save anyone.”

He was so matter-of-fact. So cold and clinical about so many lives being taken away for a crime committed years ago, by a handful of people who may not even still be alive… Did he not see what he was doing? What he was allowing to unfold? His life so far hadn’t been easy, by any stretch of the imagination, but to destroy the Earth over it?

“There has to be!” She found herself blurting, her fists balled at her chest, “I know that people fight over the most trivial things,” she began, voice wavering and tentative, “Some people…” She continued, trying to pick her words carefully and think before she spoke, as she so often didn’t. Rage would not get the better of Amy Rose today. “…may be selfish like the professor said… But they’re basically good. If they try their best and never give up on their wishes… They always have a reason to be happy.”

The pink hedgehog paused for a moment, trying to gauge Shadow’s reaction to her words so far. His face was hard to read, stoic and brooding as he was, and with the whirlwind of emotions swirling in her head she was struggling to separate the facade of nonchalance from any underlying emotion or sign of doubt. She swallowed hard, brows furrowing, as she put the last pieces of her plea together. Her nails bit into the palms of her hands, a tentative step forward bringing her closer to him as she pleaded, “That’s why you should help them out! Saving them is a good thing! Shadow, I beg you, please do it for them. Give them a chance!”

The lab fell into near silence, the only sounds the beeping of long-abandoned equipment and echoes of Amy’s voice as it faded away in the enormity of the room.

His eyes hadn’t left hers, not for a moment, but now, they flickered over her, regarding her as if this was the first time he had seen her, and she had just asked the world of him.

Now that she thought about it, that wasn’t far from the truth.

He turned back to the window. She searched his face for an answer - for even an incline of what he may say - but he gave away nothing. Instead, Shadow closed his eyes.The air felt thin, time seeming to fray and threatening to snap. It couldn’t have been longer than a moment, but to Amy, it felt like eternity.

Then, his face twisted in a sneer.

“No.”

Amy gasped as Shadow’s eyes opened. She could feel the hate wash over her.

“You talk about what they want, their hopes and dreams and wishes - but what about mine? Am I supposed to give up, to pander to people who have sought to harm me? To use me?” His expression darkened, shifting to something that sent a chill down her spine. “Why should I?”

He snarled, turning sharply to face her head on. “Why should I save them? These people who, by your own admission, are selfish?”

“That’s not what I-”

“I won’t help them. They can all go to hell!”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, welling and threatening to fall. She’d shrunk further away from him with each word, feeling less and less like she was capable of changing his mind, and more like she was being scolded for her naivety. Blood rushed in her ears, the pounding of her heart deafening her as the fire she had felt in her stomach was all but put out by his words raining down around her.

She’d failed. Fallen short.

But somehow… something told her she couldn’t just give in. Laying down and taking whatever she was given wasn’t her style. Maybe once upon a time, but not now.

“But Shadow, I know that under all of the pain you're good! I know you-”

“You know nothing!” He spat, quills bristling as a sharp, derisive followed. “You want to save them? Do it yourself.”

The fire roared. It licked against her insides, boiling her blood and building pressure in her system. It was like her veins were no longer for transporting oxygen - they were a part of a boiler system that was over pressurised, and the safety valve was ripped away. She was ready to blow, and unfortunately for Shadow, he’d blocked the last outlet for her steam.

She realised what she’d done when the palm of her hand started stinging, and his face snapped towards the glass he stood in front of. She’d slapped him. Hard. So hard, in fact, that there was already a red handprint forming on the side of his muzzle. It looked sore, and any other time, she would have apologised profusely - but the rage that still simmered forbade her from showing remorse. Before he could retaliate, she found herself racing out of the lab and down the hallway in the direction her friends had taken, straight for the Cannon Core.

The soles of her boots on the sheet metal of the floor drummed in her head, seeming to sync with her thundering blood. Every second mattered. Gerald had given them twenty-seven minutes. Some of that time had already slipped through her fingers, so Chaos only knew how long she had now.

The walkway she was on came to a junction, causing her to slow and eventually stop. The corridor had split in two, open doorways yawning to the left and right with no clear indication as to which was the way to the cannon core. To the left, purple walls and strobing lights lit glass floors and moving platforms, while the right glowed an ominous red, the hexagonal pathway seeming to go on forever.

“Red means danger,” she murmured to no one in particular, taking a tentative step towards the right-hand door. Rings of light seemed to race up the walls towards the entryway. It was almost as if they were trying to push her away and convince her to go down the other route, but that just served to convince Amy that this had to be the right way. Of course the mad scientist who had set the ARK on a crash course with the Earth would want to keep people away from the metaphorical off switch for his plan.

With a quick scan of the corridor she found a rail that ran along the roof, with a handle hanging from it. If it did what she thought it did, it could be a quicker way to traverse the tunnel before her. Manoeuvring herself to see further down the twists and turns and realising she couldn’t see the end, or even the light that might mark it, she concluded that any boost to speed she could give herself would be a welcome one. With that in mind, she backed up a few steps and ran, leaping for the handle. The jolt of inertia was enough to slide along the rail, and before long, she was travelling at a good pace.

The tunnel twisted, throwing her violently in one direction, and then the other, with lights flashing and dissipating all the while. It was making her feel queasy. In desperation, she shut her eyes tight in hopes of a temporary reprieve, but the lights came to a sudden stop. She cracked an eye open, squinting to get a better look at where the light ended, to see where the rail went once the transition to black was made, but with horror she realised it was the open expanse of a new room, cyan sparks of electricity punctuating the otherwise pitch black. The rail came to an abrupt halt, the handle hitting the stop plate at the end with a thunk, and she was flung forward into the empty air.

Amy shrieked, the possibility that this was her end, not the collision with the Earth, briefly filling her head as she searched for something to grab or land on. Columns hung from the ceiling, too far away for her to use to stop her descent, and all around her was nothing but blackness. A void.

But, as her limbs wheeled, panic rising, she saw the familiar glow of the tunnel she had been launched from. Had she tipped forward? Rolled in the air somehow to look back at where she’d come from? No, she couldn’t have. The columns were still above her - this had to be new. That, and now that she was thinking more critically, this new light was more orange than red. That had to be the way forward.

Below her was a stone outcrop that stopped just before the orange room. That was her target but she was falling fast. Landing wouldn’t be as easy as it sounded. Not without an injury, anyway.

She’d seen Sonic spindash his way out of situations like this before, but he normally had an enemy to aim for. Whoever had been here before had done a good job of clearing out any hostiles - too good a job. If she could just slow her fall somehow, then she could land without fear of breaking a leg - or worse.

Then it hit her. Her hammer. She’d used it before to make a small wind tunnel. If she could just time it properly, she could decelerate just before she made contact with the ground.

She held out her hands, her signature hammer appearing in her grip with a plume of smoke that was quickly whisked away as she gained speed. Once her vision cleared, she took stock again. She needed to act in five… four… three… two-

Panic struck her. She’d over estimated. The ground was approaching faster than she had expected. Eyes wide, veins icy with dread, she hefted the hammer, swinging it as hard and fast as she could in a circular motion.

A gust of air caught her. She slowed. And, with only a few quills windswept and out of place, she landed. With a deep exhale, shoulders dropping in relief, she allowed herself a moment to gather herself before taking on the next section of her journey.

Amy shook herself. She had to get moving again - the ARK was still plummeting. The Earth was still in danger. And, as much as she trusted and admired Sonic, she wasn’t sure�� he could do it on his own this time.

The path ahead was maybe ten feet long before it dropped into a chasm. Why there was such a large pit inside a space colony, she didn’t know, but it was going to be difficult to get over. A running start wouldn’t go amiss, but even an olympic long jumper would have trouble with a gap so wide.

Absently, she hefted the hammer, flipping it in her hand as she puzzled over her dilemma. If only she could use something like an enemy as a stepping stone, or-

She paused, closely inspecting the hammer in her hand. An idea flickered in her mind like a lightbulb. That might just do it.

She shook out her arms and hands, leaning forward and focusing on the glow of the next room. This jump had only two outcomes - suicide or success - and she had to have the confidence to make sure it was the latter.

Rearing back and filling her lungs with the stagnant air of the chamber, Amy committed to her stunt, surging forward and charging at the crevasse. Her whole body felt like it was pulsing. Between her heartbeat, the cadence of her feet and adrenaline, she didn’t know which to blame.

As the end of the stone walkway approached, her mind’s eye replaced it with the white line of a long jump pit, and a yell tore from her throat. She threw herself into the abyss, leaping with all the strength she could in hopes that it would reduce how long she would have to spin her hammer. It was a new skill after all, so the less she had to rely on it, the better.

She sailed through the air, the grip on her hammer turning her knuckles white; it would sting once she let go, but she was too terrified of dropping it. There was still so far to go, so much nothing to cross over, but she could feel that her fall had begun.

With everything she had, Amy swung the hammer, letting herself twist with it in the air and hoping to land on solid ground.

One,

Two,

Three full rotations, and she could feel herself getting dizzy. Keeping her eyes open had been a mistake for her stomach, which churned and protested, but she wouldn’t know when to stop otherwise.

Four,

Five

Six rotations. The longer she spun, the more she felt like maybe she’d missed the edge, and was just spiralling into the void of nothing below, but something told her that she had to persevere. There seemed to be more and more orange in her blurry view of the world, which surely meant was at least close to the other side.

One…

More…

Turn…

She slowed, stopped, and staggered, the world still spinning even though she wasn’t. She’d made it. Her idea, insane as it was, had worked, and as her vision cleared the orange glow she had aimed for snapped into focus. What had once been an octagonal tunnel, now squared off with panels of glass, pulsed with amber light.

Her heels clicked a staccato against the floor as she wobbled away from her landing spot, head swimming and hands shaky. Amy’s grip on her hammer faltered, the weapon slipping from her fingers and disappearing in a puff of smoke, and all she could do was watch. Much more effort might bring about another appearance of her breakfast, which wasn’t something she was keen to experience.

With each step, the haze of dizziness cleared. It was like she was wading through the last of a thick fog, finally emerging into the light of day. Unfortunate that the daylight in question was only the rest of the room, not the end of her journey, but at least the end was approaching.

The back of the room split off into a T junction. To the right was a dead end, while the left path gave way to a room of shifting, spinning cubes and display panels that showed only the same amber light of the previous rooms swishing back and forth.

Now that her stomach had settled, Amy risked picking up the pace, following the corridor as it curved to the right. Cubes tumbled in the air, bathing her in their warm glow - but she had no time to enjoy it. Chaos only knew how long she had left before the ARK would collide with the Earth -or if she’d be able to stop the collision - but she had to try. Just because Shadow had refused to help, that didn’t mean she had to accept her fate. She could do this. She had to believe she could, because if she couldn’t, then-

The familiar sound of her heels on glass gave way to sloshing and a low buzzing sound. She’d been so preoccupied with her fate, so focused on her goal that she hadn’t realised she was in a new area. Three inches of fluid lapped against the soles of her shoes, the translucent amber liquid looking like it belonged in a reactor, not on the floor. The unnatural, tangerine hue almost gave her pause, but as she splashed through it she found herself having to think fast once more.

Lazers and a metal barrier barred her way. She estimated that she would be able to slide under the barricade if she timed it right, and that the chance of getting the amber liquid on her skin - or worse, in her eyes or mouth - was worth the risk. She sped up, running until she was maybe two feet away from the lazer-wall and dropping into a slide.

Her nose grazed the metal, but she was under, and otherwise unharmed. Much to her relief, the liquid that coated the floor didn’t seem to be acidic, either, but for the time being that was the least of her concerns.

Before her was a six foot wall, edged in the same metal as the barrier was made of, and no other direction to go. She knew she couldn’t jump that high. If she were lucky, and had a decent start, she might be able to get enough of a grip with her fingers to haul herself up. Possibles and maybes didn’t save the world, she knew, but neither did people who didn’t at least try against the odds.

Backtracking as close to the lasers as she dared, she eyed the run-up she’d given herself. It should be enough.

Would be enough.

Had to be enough.

Filling her lungs, she rocked back. A fizzing sound and the smell of burning quills rolled over her. Too far. With a flinch and a quick pat of the affected area, she squared her shoulders, and took another deep breath…

Before running full speed at the wall.

She charged, picking up as much speed as she dared before hurling herself upwards towards the ledge.

Her body slammed into the wall, chest and ribs screaming with the impact, but the tips of her fingers had caught on the ledge, holding her against the frigid surface. She wheezed in a breath, grimacing as she did, and walked the fingers of one hand onto the ledge until her palm sat against it. She repeated the process once she was sure her grip was sound, slowly grappling her way onto the surface until she was able to swing a leg up and roll onto the floor, panting with the exertion.

Amy wanted to stay there. Sprawled on the floor, where the fate of the world wasn’t in her hands, and nothing more was needed of her, but she couldn’t do that. Even if Sonic could do this without her, she was sick of being the extra. The back up. The ‘just in case’. But not any more. That was going to change.

She staggered to her feet, bathed in the crimson glow of the next corridor. It looked so similar to the first, but even though it had only been a few minutes since, that first rail ride felt a lifetime away.

She crossed the threshold at a run, feeling the slope of the floor dip down towards the heart of the ARK. She was ready for this. She was going to make a difference.

The ground levelled out sharply, more of the amber swill from a few rooms ago coming into view in a roiling torrent past a sheer drop - one that she knew now that she could traverse with ease, thanks to her hammer. With a hop, skip, and a jump, she launched herself into the air, and realised just how far she would need to go.

From this angle, she saw that the orange flow rushed towards her, cascading down and away from where she assumed she needed to be. But, it plateaued - and presumably, flowed in the opposite direction on the other side.

Smoke billowed around her as the hammer materialised, but quickly dispersed as she spun in the practised cyclone that had delivered her safely across the chasm before.

The world around her was a blur, flashes of colour and light that only made sense when she broke from the tornado she had created and let herself take it all in. She could see now that she had been right about the flow of water. It did flow the other way, with an equally steep slope that flowed into a pipe. That had to be it. The inlet to the canon core.

Her trajectory landed her just past the section of level ground, a few paces into the decline, and the flow swept her off her feet with a splash. Control would be hard won, she realised, as her form took the path of least resistance, swerving from left to right at an increasingly alarming pace. When her body started to rotate, threatening to have her careen down the space-age log flume head first, she felt her heart skip a beat. Relinquishing the control of her direction was one thing, but her orientation was something that wasn’t up for debate.

Small adjustments to compensate for the swivel seemed to keep her facing the right direction, much to her relief. “Thank Gaia,” she found herself whispering, hoping that her small praise would be enough to convince any higher power that she was grateful for this mercy, and to continue sending it her way.

A crackle filled the air, the sound of an intercom creaking to life. Amy glanced around to find the speaker, even though she knew it would be of no use to her to know where it was. She was left only with the sound of a vaguely familiar voice echoing around the pipe she was stuck in.

“All of you ungrateful humans,” it began, tone foreboding and morose. Was that… the scientist? The one who had made Shadow? “Who took everything from me…” It was! A recording of him couldn’t mean anything good. She found herself searching frantically for an exit; Something in her chest told her she needed to get out of this tunnel. “Will feel my loss, and despair!”

As the last of Gerald's announcement ricocheted around her, her body was thrown around the curve of the pipe and light winked into existence in front of her. It was the end of the water way, she realised, but not quickly enough to avoid being dumped onto the floor unceremoniously.

She groaned, checking where her limbs had contacted the ground for any signs of damage - it was mostly small cuts and scrapes, but she had the feeling there would be bruises in more places tomorrow - and dusted herself down, rising to her feet cautiously.

There it was. The cannon core. And between her and it were Sonic, Knuckles, and-

“What in Chaos’ name is that!?” Amy shrieked. She had seen some sights in her time, but this? It was grotesque. Calling it anything else fell short of the true horror of the lumbering beast that shook the ground with each step. Its skin seemed to pool around its joints and feet, like it had an excess of it that refused to slough off despite its best efforts. Tubes protruded from all over its body at odd angles, leaving wounds that looked jagged and inflamed, ready to rupture at any moment.

The least offensive part of this behemoth was the canister on its back full of fluorescent green liquid that sloshed with every movement, the glow it provided highlighting the folds and wrinkles of the too-loose skin that covered its body.

Between the disgusting lifeform in front of her and the fear writhing like a snake in her stomach, retaining her lunch had become no easy feat. But, she was convinced that adrenaline was the only thing keeping her from vomiting.

“Amy!? What are you doing here!?” Sonic yelled, incredulity and fear clear in the crack of his voice.

“I asked Shadow to help us, and he refused,” she proffered, holding her hands out and summoning her Piko Piko hammer. “So I came to help instead.”

“No, no way,” the blue hedgehog said, shaking his head. “You need to go back and-”

A roar interrupted him, the beast clearly annoyed that it was being ignored.

“We don’t have time to argue!” She spat back, hefting the hammer and looking to Knuckles for back up. If anyone would understand, it would be him.

The echidna looked between his friends, knowing that by supporting Amy, he would put her in harm’s way, but by supporting Sonic, he would give Amy the impression he didn’t believe she was capable of helping them. He gave an irritated sigh, and turned to Sonic. “She’s right, we have to get the Master Emerald into that shrine now or we’re all toast! Amy,” he turned to her, violet eyes burning, “You need to keep that thing busy while Sonic and I get to the shrine - think you can do that?”

She nodded curtly, her expression settling into one of conviction as she focused on the monster that lumbered towards them now, trying to decide if she was insane for agreeing to this, or brave for even trying. For now, she would go with the latter.

As her friends raced for the shrine, a heaviness settled on her chest. Her blood felt cold, like she'd had a bucket of water dumped over her and the raging inferno she had stoked when she began this journey had been drowned. This thing was horrifying. Even its movements seemed unnatural, like its muscles weren't intended for its skeleton, and every stuttering step made the loose skin of its joints undulate sickeningly.

She choked back the bile that rose in her throat, refusing to take her eyes off it on principle alone. It probably already knew she was terrified, already knew that she wanted to turn tail and run until her lungs screamed for her to stop - but she wouldn’t. Not today.

Her hammer felt leaden in her grip. The weight of the world, of her friends lives, of her own future - they all seemed present in its heft. She took a shaky step forward, feeling the fear rise but knowing she couldn't let it overwhelm her. Another step followed the first, the façade of confidence settling over her like a warm, comforting blanket.

This was it. Her chance to prove herself. “Never fear,” she began, swiping the hammer to her side and shifting her weight to run. “Amy Rose is here!”

The biolizard lunged for her, snapping its toothless maw. If she were any slower, it would have crushed her arm.

She ran to the right, hoping for an opening where she could hit it hard enough to at least give it pause. But the beast lumbered after her, pivoting in the shallow puddle of water it wallowed in and sending ripples over the lip with each thunderous step.

Keeping a distance between her and its mouth was Amy's top priority. Visions of what would become of her if she didn't played in her mind, and she had to physically shake her head to banish the thoughts. She needed adrenaline. Optimism. Not fear.

Amy stole a glance over her shoulder. She hadn't covered much ground, but already the monster seemed to be tiring. Its breathing was heavy. Laboured. Ragged.

How was it so tired after barely moving?

That was exactly it, it turned out. The thing barely could move, and so what little it had already managed was a gargantuan task for its body. If she could exhaust it - however briefly - that would be an advantage, one that was sorely needed.

With that in mind, Amy re-doubled her efforts, antagonising the beast by shouting over her shoulder at it. The lumbering started to slow, and it wasn't long before the biolizard came to a halt.

Steam seemed to billow from its mouth with each exhale, and each inhale seemed hard won. There it was. The opening she needed.

Skidding almost to a stop, she pivoted on a heel and ran at its side, torn for a moment on where to hit it. The side was easily accessible, fleshy, and likely to do some internal damage if she could hit it hard enough, but the pipes that wound around its form gave her pause. They had to have a purpose. Transporting something, most likely - something that it needed, or else its creator wouldn't have left them there.

Those pipes all seemed to converge on its back. Whatever they held was either flowing to or from there.

Hoping her guess was correct, Amy leapt. Her mind flashed back to her leap of faith across the chasm. But she had overcome that, just like she would overcome this.

She crested the mass of crimson flesh, her boot slipping on loose skin as she landed. The shaky breaths beneath her shifted the pipes she'd followed. Just as she thought, they all appeared to connect to a device on its back.

That had to be it.

A yellow glow pulsated atop the machine, growing brighter with each inhale, and dimming with each exhale. Surely, that wasn't a coincidence? It had to be a life support - or have at least some impact on the biolizard's continued life.

Having convinced herself, she did what she always did when all that stood between her and victory was a metal box.

She swung her hammer at it.

The familiar crunch of her hammer connecting with metal brought a smile to her lips. The device crackled with electricity, pops and fizzes an audible indicator of broken connections.

Beneath her, the biolizard screamed, its cry akin to a yowling cat, and shook itself violently enough to throw her to the ground.

She skidded across the paved pathway, scraping her shoulder in the process. But as pain pulsed through her, she couldn't help but wonder how it had been so easy to defeat something that had been touted as the ultimate life form.

And then it moved.

Toothless jaws snapped at her, missing by mere inches. She flinched away, scrambling to her feet and bolting away.

This time, the biolizard didn't make a move towards her though. It's feet were planted firmly in the murky orange pool, and no sloshing could be heard.

What she did hear, though, was scarier than any eerie silence. It was like a blockage being cleared from a pipe at high velocity, a resounding poh noise, followed by stone crunching and skittering away.

It took every ounce of courage she had to turn and look behind her.

A ball of what she could only describe as shadows tore towards her, purple energy crackling across its surface like lightning.

she threw herself out of the way, keeping her eyes trained on the monster. Its maw opened again, energy swelling in its throat, and another popping sound exploded from it, firing the orb at her.

There would be no more wearing it out. The shadows seemed capable of following her, this new ball proved, as it swerved towards her at frightening speed. Dodging was the only option.‘Think, Amy! Think, think, think!’ She chastised, eyes darting across the beast in hopes of finding an answer.

To her surprise, she found it - a cord that ran from its mouth to its back. If she was fast, and careful, she could get to its back from there to do some more damage, and avoid the shadows at the same time.

There was no time to second guess herself. Raising her hammer again, she charged, side-stepping the second orb in the nick of time. A yell tore from her throat, half from terror and half from the rising sensation in her chest that goaded her to do better, to be better - to be a hero.

She reached the cable just as a third ball started forming. With precision achieved by pure adrenaline, she made her first step onto the tube, following quickly by her second. It felt surreal. The narrowing of her focus to include only the pound of her veins, her boots on the wire as she barrelled up to its back. Her foot had been on its back for hardly a heartbeat when she slammed her hammer into the side of the still crackling unit.

The casing cracked open, chips of metal spraying from the gash. She hefted the hammer back over her head, slamming it down onto the orange dome.

Glass shattered, spraying her with shards that sliced at her arms and cheeks. She hissed, the tiny cuts stinging individually and as one, the sensation overwhelming.

A familiar rage built. One she’d experienced a thousand times before but never quite this intensely. She swung again, and again, the crumpling sound mixing with the yowling to create a truly ear-splitting cacophony. But in her rage, everything had quieted.

When the world pitched, it took a moment for her to realise why. The biolizard was shaking, trying to throw her off, but as she fell, her hammer caught on one of the pipes, jolting her to a stop.

Another yowl, the tugging clearly causing it at least some discomfort. She could feel the noise in her bones, the vibrations rattling her. But this could be worse. In fact, this could be a fantastic opportunity to end this whole thing, here and now.

Bracing her feet against its side, boots sliding on skin too big for its frame, she pulled.

The cable popped out of the socket, spraying amber ichor as it flailed, and for what she hoped was the last time today, she hit the ground.

She rolled away, knowing that she needed to dissipate the inertia if she wanted to walk away from this encounter rather than limp. Now that her hearing had returned, she could tell just how distressed it really was. The screaming and sloshing as it thrashed in what she assumed was agony was deafening - but it seemed like her ordeal was over. Now she just needed Sonic and Knuckles to get the chaos emerald back out of the shrine and-

Cobalt lightning crackled around the shrine, the master emerald pulsing with power and spinning in place. A flash of blinding light painted the chamber white and Amy threw up her arms to shield her eyes.

Before she risked opening them again, though, a roar shook her to the bone. It was the same sound as the Biolizard had made when she’d damaged it, only lower pitched.

She whirled, hammer in hand ready to deal what she hoped was the killing blow, and was met not with the defeated form she had left, but one that had reared back to let out one last yell. With the beast on its back legs the looseness of its skin was more prominent, the disproportionate nature of its form more obvious. The pressure it was exerting on its stubby legs made them shake, the open wounds all over its body weeping, blood and pus running over the ripples and folds of its body.

Her stomach churned, but before her mind could comprehend the truely sickening parts of its visage, a flash of blue enveloped it, and it was gone.

Turning back to the shrine, she took the steps two at a time, reaching Sonic and Knuckles at the Master Emerald’s plinth. “What was that?”

Sonic opened his mouth to speak, but the answer never came. The ARK pitched to the side, the artificial gravity of the ship momentarily failing, suspending them above the ground. “Since we’ve stopped the Chaos Emeralds… why is the space colony still on a crash course to Earth?” Knuckles managed before gravity kicked back in, throwing him, Sonic, and Amy to the ground.

“The prototype is still alive, and he’s controlling the space colony as its falling to Earth!” Eggman announced through the ARK’s communication system. This new information settled like a brick in Amy’s stomach as the trio staggered to their feet. She’d failed to kill the biolizard, and now, it was going to destroy the Earth anyway. All that she’d been through, all that she’d done… It was all for nothing, after all. “He’s become one with the space colony, and is determined to keep it on its collision course!”

Dumbfounded, she looked to Knuckles. He was the guardian of the Master Emerald - surely, there was something he could do? But the echidna wasted no time in turning to Sonic. The blue blur stared his friend down for a beat, his grass-green eyes flickering to Amy and back, as if considering something but discounting it before it had even had time to gestate. “I need to go super,” the hedgehog announced, taking a step towards the master Emerald. “But I don’t know if I can do this on my own.”

Her body moved before her mind could catch it. The pink hedgehog stepped forward, hammer evaporating into smoke, hands balling to fists. “Let me try, too!” There was no room for argument in her tone, but that didn’t stop her blue beau from trying.

“Ames, no, you can’t-”

“You don’t know that! Just because I haven’t before doesn’t mean I can’t!” His eyes were wide with shock, and something else. Awe, she hoped, but equally it could have been disbelief. When he sighed and held his hand out for her to take, though, she knew it didn’t matter. He was going to let her try, and that meant that at the very least, he believed there was a chance.

She took it, the pair raising their hands above their heads and studying the ceiling of the shrine. Like icicles forming on a window sill, their energy seeped from the stonework, forming the seven gems that had started this mess, and would give them the power to end it.

The emeralds descended, hovering for a moment before spinning faster and faster around them.

She could feel it. The tumultuous power, crashing into her like waves. The eddies lapped at her, like ice water around her ankles, and rose steadily until she thought she might drown. The emeralds were moving so fast now that they were a blur. It was impossible to tell one from another. Another wave of chaos energy crashed into her, almost knocking her to her knees - but she stood strong in its onslaught, feeling the cold sink past her skin, chill her blood and freeze her bones.

White light flashed from between them, hands separating as the power split. Sonic glowed with the golden light of his super form, and Amy too shone, but with a rose-tinted gold of her own. The frigid chill of chaos energy was nothing like her own rage. So alien, so… different. So… other. It was somehow both exhilarating and terrifying.

Sonic seemed to take it all in his stride - but then, he had been super before, hadn’t he? She’d always wondered what it felt like, and now that she had experienced it, she could understand how he used this power to save the world all those times before.

Sonic shot her his signature cocky grin, pointing to the roof. Up and out. She nodded, and the duo crouched in unison, extending their legs as if to jump, but instead shooting clean through the walls of the cannon core.

When Eggman had informed them that the biolizard had ‘become one’ with the ARK, Amy had been sure that he was exaggerating. The truth, however, was much more horrifying than she’d imagined.

Its flesh had wrapped itself around the muzzle of the eclipse cannon, the once loose folds of skin stretching and contorting to accommodate its new metal appendage. It was dragging the space colony with it, under what steam she didn’t know, and was headed straight for the planet she called home.

“Sonic, Amy! Can you hear me?” Eggman’s voice boomed. “He’s very weak without his life support system. Aim for the red swellings to damage him! You’re our last hope!”

Weak without his life support… Her hunch had been right! The device was keeping it alive, and now, with the machine broken, they at least had a chance of winning.

The hedgehogs shared a knowing look - one that held the promise to win, or die trying - and shared a definitive nod.

Sonic blasted off, a trail of light marking his path as he weaved towards the monster. It was slow, cumbersome, but even so, if one of its limbs connected… she dreaded to think what the damage could be.

They had to do this quickly.

As Sonic ploughed into the first of the swellings, bursting through the thin layer of skin, Amy realised that she hadn’t moved. She’d been staring, horrified at what was in front of her.

She shook herself, furrowing her brows. She couldn’t just float here and do nothing.

It didn’t take long to find another of the sores Eggman had mentioned - the thing was riddled with them - but before she pushed off to make her first attack, something caught her eye.

Beneath its mass, a glow was building. Amethyst and ruby and aquamarine. It was mesmerising, and as it roiled and grew, she wondered what is was.

Her question was answered as the orb grew and stretched out towards her, a beam of searing energy missing her by mere inches. It was danger. It was pain. It was certain death.

A fire having been lit under her, she flew in a wide arc towards the pustule she was now aiming for, careful to keep an eye out for the beam of energy now that she knew it was capable of such a feat. The closer she got, though, the more its flailing limbs and snapping jaws made her hesitate. Even with her super form, the hurdle of failure loomed large above her, every time she hadn’t been strong enough, or fast enough playing on repeat in her mind.

She rolled out of the way as one of its arms thrashed at her, the disorientation of unfamiliar momentum causing her to bounce off its scaly hide and careen down its spine to float to a halt only a meter or so before it merged with the ARK.

Silently, she cursed herself. How could she help Sonic to kill this thing if she couldn’t even get close enough to its weak spots to do anything?

It was then that she spotted it - the blistered skin just past the curve of its side. A glance to its head confirmed that the beast was preoccupied with Sonic, and from this angle, it wouldn’t be able to get her with the beam until it was too late - for it, at least.

With speed she hadn’t possessed before the boost of the Chaos Emeralds, she launched herself around and ploughed into the thin, inflamed skin. It burst with enough force to fire her towards its head, her inert body tumbling head over heels at speed. In space, there was no friction to slow her, no end in sight to the vomit-inducing spinning. Not, at least, without some intervention.

From seemingly no where, its huge head swung towards her faster than it had any right to be capable of. She lifted her arms to cross over her face defensively knowing that she hadn’t the time to move, and was launched by the force of its nose connecting with her ribs.

She was like a pinball in a machine - moving at blinding speed with a trajectory that would inevitably result in collision.

And collide she did.

The ARK loomed large as she careened towards it, her form tumbling in the vast emptiness of space. Dizziness crept in on her, but before it could take hold, pain blossomed across her back and shoulder.

She’d slammed into the ARK, and from the crunching and crackling coming from behind her, she’d likely hit a window. That, or she’d done more damage to herself than she thought.

“Ouch,” she whimpered. The sound was half-reflexive, half-genuine, as she cradled the shoulder that had taken the brunt of the hit. “That thing really packs a punch…”

With a groan, she propped herself up on her elbows, watching as Sonic ploughed into the beast that had just thrown her like a ragdoll. She felt so useless. Managing to absorb enough Chaos energy to transform had been a shock, as had defending herself against the prototype of Shadow before it had teleported outside, but even now, after all of those achievements she was starting to feel like she wasn’t enough to fix this.

Her nails bit into her palms even through the padding of her gloves. Giving up was the easy route, the one she’d sworn she’d abandoned back when she’d helped Gamma fight its programming. She had to keep trying, or else what had all of this been for?

She took a long, slow inhale, filling her lungs to the brim and holding the breath for a second to centre herself, then released it in a steady, foggy stream. The world needed saving, and while she trusted that Sonic would do his best, she didn’t want him falling short because she’d thrown in the towel.

Gingerly, she rolled onto her stomach, aware of every slight movement as pinpricks of pain rolled through her. Were it not for the lack of gravity, she wondered if she would even have managed that, let alone bring her knees up to kneel on the observation deck window.Now that she’d been given the chance to stop, the adrenaline that had brought her this far was waning and the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Maintaining a super form was so tiring… how did Sonic do this?

Knowing that she couldn’t let herself be swept to shore, that she had to stay in the sea of energy until the danger had passed, she forced herself to open her eyes. At first, all she saw was her own reflection staring back at her through a spiderweb of cracks in the glass. But, as her eyes adjusted, she saw something else. Someone else.

Shadow. And he was staring back at her, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

He’d underestimated her ability, just like everyone else did, and had expected her to perish long before this point. That had to be it.

One, last act of defiance, then. Before she ended this fight and did what so many thought was impossible for her.

She pushed herself off the window of the lab, threw her arms behind her, and stuck her tongue out at the ultimate lifeform with gusto, before turning and flying back to where Sonic was fighting the biolizard.

It was childish, she knew, but his perception of her was the last thing she was worried about right now.

More of the pustules that covered the lizard had been ruptured, she noted, which felt like it would at least help. If this behemoth was capable of feeling pain, it had to be in agony by now. Wounds wept, blood and pus and chaos energy oozing from each and every one. This thing, relentless as it was, had to be put out of its misery.

She balled her fists, ready to weave her way towards the monster and hit more of its sores. Sonic had managed to destroy so many of them, and she didn’t want to end up as just the distraction again. She’d done so much today, been through so much. Now wasn’t the time to trip over the hurdle.

She flew towards the beast, feeling every injury she’d sustained so far screaming at her to stop, that she’d done enough, and she could call herself a hero now. But heroes didn’t give up just because they had a few bruises and cuts, or because they’d been thrown around like a rag doll. Heroes kept going.

With the lack of resistance from the expanse of space, she gained speed quickly, tearing through the chasm between her and her target, but in her periphery, something caught her attention. A white-gold glow - not Sonic’s gold, nor her own rose-gold, but a new one.

It was Shadow, and he was in his super form.

“What- what are you-”

“This thing is my prototype,” he began, his blood-red eyes focused on the biolizard. “It’s time I prove my superiority.”

He burst forward, leaving her to trail behind as he slammed into one of the sores at speed she struggled to see, let alone emulate, and when he was thrown backwards by the force of its skin splitting, he didn’t pause to look for another. He used the arc of his trajectory to fly around it, looking for another spot to damage.

This was the difference between her and real fighters, she thought to herself. For all she knew, this was Shadow’s first time in a super form too. And he was dealing with it so much better than she was. Granted, he didn’t need to fight so hard to change the direction he moved in with the help of his air shoes, but something about the ease with which he moved, the confidence… she was jealous.

“Can both of you hear me!?” Eggman yelled. There was panic in his voice, and Amy couldn’t in good conscious say she blamed him for it. “Atmosphere entry in about 4 minutes! Hurry!”

There it was. Four minutes. 240 seconds. Barely any time left to save the world.

She summoned her hammer, determined not to fall behind. It felt so light to her now, with chaos energy coursing through her veins, but that just meant she could put more of her strength into the swing.

There was a pustule where its skin met the ARK that Sonic and Shadow seemed to have missed. She pivoted towards it, swinging her hammer above her head ready to deal her first blow. As soon as she was close enough, the hammer smashed into the skin, eliciting a screech of pain from the beast as it thrashed in agony. It swung its clawed hands at Sonic, missing by at least three feet, and did the same to Shadow, failing to catch him with its claws.

Its head whipped around, more sluggish than it had been when it had thrown her into the observation deck window, and the motion tore its skin.

Now that she looked more closely, the movement of its arms had torn the skin at its shoulders, too.

It was falling apart, right in front of their eyes.

Sonic and Shadow looked frantically for another swelling to hit, another weak point to attack, but their lack of movement told her they found nothing. The end was nigh.

Amy floated to the broken device on its back, seeing that it still crackled and fizzed with electricity even now. The wires that remained attached still trailed its body, inert and empty of life-giving energy. She jammed the handle of her hammer under the unit, using the head as a lever, and separated the metal oval from the biolizard with a crunch. She reeled back.

The hammer connected with the unit, sending it careening towards the biolizard’s head, tearing the wires out of itself, or out of the biolizards skin.

The explosions from it started small. The size of a basketball, perhaps, or a little larger, but they seemed to set off a chain reaction.

The three hedgehogs dispersed, re-convening to watch as the monster went up in flames.

It was dead. The Earth was safe.

They’d done what had felt impossible just fifteen minutes ago.

As the three of them regarded each other, Sonic and Amy looking battered, bruised, and exhausted, they couldn’t help but smile. “We did it…” Amy breathed, releasing her hammer for it to disperse into smoke.

“We did,” Sonic beamed. There was something in his smile - relief, maybe, and pride - that she hadn’t expected. She’d thought he was so sure they could do this. He’d given no reason for her to think otherwise. But it seemed as though he hadn’t been as confident as she’d thought.

Shadow huffed, crossing his arms and turning his gaze to Amy. “Was that outcome in doubt?” To him, it seemed as though it wasn’t. Like the moment he was involved in something, it would go exactly as he planned.

“Heh, maybe not,” Sonic said. His smile grew wider, another small laugh escaping him, before he pointed to the ARK with his thumb. “We’d best get back, or the others will wonder what happened!”

He was gone before either of them could speak. Amy turned to Shadow, ready to chastise Sonic in his absence, but found that the surly being was staring intently at her. She couldn’t meet his eyes, instead looking away and scratching at the side of her head.

She’d slapped him, made faces at him, and now, it seemed, she owed him an apology. But first, she had to ask him something.

“What made you decide to help?” She blurted, chancing a glance at him and finding that he was still staring. His eyes flickered away from her then, though - the smallest hint of embarrassment on his face.

“I… I don’t know.” He said, but with the way his eyes searched the speckled sky, she wasn’t so sure that was the whole truth. “Maybe your words just needed time to sink in.”

All she could muster was a tired smile. She wished she could be more energetic, her usual enthusiastic self, about this change of heart. But everything was taking its toll. She was exhausted. She could feel her eyes fluttering, and she ached everywhere. “Well, I’m glad you came to your senses, Shadow,” she managed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We couldn’t have done it… without… you…”

The world seemed to blur. The stars that had been so sharp, so defined, only moments ago. Now, they looked like street lamps through a rainy window, particles dancing in ways she knew couldn’t be real, but they mesmerised her all the same. It made her realise just how tired she was. How leaden her limbs felt. If she could just… close… her eyes…

They closed for a moment, the white-gold of Shadow’s super form disappearing and reappearing further away. But he didn’t seem to be moving. He was facing the ARK, but the jets of his shoes were off, and his posture hadn’t changed from when she had last seen him.

Ah. She was the one moving. She could see it now. Her own glow was gone, and the stars were getting smaller. She was falling. Falling towards the Earth. And worst of all, she didn’t even had the energy to panic. The bliss of exhaustion had fogged her mind, and falling felt like the rest she needed.

She blinked again. The white-gold of Shadow’s form was closer now. Had she stopped falling? No, something told her that she was still plummeting. Maybe it was the angle he was at? She wasn’t sure.

The only thing she knew for certain was that he looked terrified. Ruby eyes were wide, mouth open in a yell, gloved hand outstretched as if he were begging for her to take it. But she couldn’t. It was too much. She was too tired.

The world went dark.

Everything ached. Her back, her shoulder, her legs. Everything. Even her eyelids seemed to ache, but she needed to open them. The murmuring around her was deafeningly loud and too quiet for her to understand all at once, with a peal of piercing ringing permeating both. Would the light of the world be that bit too much? The thing that overwhelmed her senses? She hoped not. She needed to know if they’d succeeded - if the biolizard was dead. Somewhere in the soupyness of her waking mind, she thought they had - but everything was fuzzy from the point she’d hit the ARK.

Cautiously, she cracked an eyelid open slowly, testing her surroundings in the smallest increment possible. Once one eye was fully open, she chanced the other. Everything was so blurry. The blobs of colour that crowded around her reminded her of her friends. Blue, yellow, red… and white, too. The bat that had helped them was that shade of white, she recalled. Rouge, was it? That sounded right.

Her head lolled towards the blue smear, each blink sharpening her unfocused gaze.

“Did… we win?” She croaked, voice hoarse.

“Ames! You’re awake!” Sonic rushed to kneel beside her, brows drawn in concern and worry in his eyes as they came into view. “How you feelin’?”

This was the most attentive he’d ever been, she thought to herself. It was… nice. The attention from her crush. But something about it didn’t feel as good as she always thought it would. She must have hit her head harder than she thought.

“I’m fine.” She sounded so weak. “I guess I have you to thank for that, though.” She managed a smile as he helped her to her feet, almost falling when her knee gave way and he caught her. The worry seemed to spread on his features, but he was trying to mask it. She could tell, from the way he tried to force his face back into the cocky grin he usually sported.

“Nah, Ames,” he breathed. “We were almost beat, but then Shadow showed up and finished the thing off. I started back to the ship, and then…” the words died in his throat, his green eyes shifting guiltily before he turned to look to his left, away from the observation deck windows and towards the shadows that enveloped the entrance to the room. “You… you passed out. And Shadow saved you. He caught you before you - before you fell.”

It was all coming back to her now. His face as he hurtled towards her, eyes wide and full of fear.

She followed Sonic’s gaze, her own settling on the hedgehog who was mostly obfuscated by the dark. Shadow. He’d saved her life, even after what she’d said, what she’d done - oh, Gaia, she’d slapped him, hadn’t she?

Her legs felt like jelly again. Of all the individuals to piss off, she’d chosen Shadow, and not only that, but it seemed like he’d forgiven her too. You didn’t save someone you disliked, did you? But then, he had saved the humans, or at least helped to, and he claimed to hate them.

“I- I see.” She choked out. She swallowed hard and chewed nervously on her lip. She had to apologise. That had to be the first thing she said to him. But how do you do that? Maybe ‘sorry for slapping you for trying to blow up the Earth’ was enough, she wondered, but shook the thought from her head. As soon as she could stand on her own, she needed to have an answer.

“Yeah, it was weird,” Sonic mused, bringing her out of her thoughts and back to the real world. “By the time I realised, he was already half way to you, and he looked-”

“Worried,” Amy said, and he nodded in agreement.

Amy sighed. Of all the things she’d had to do today, of all the fears she’d faced… Apologising to, and thanking, the one who’d saved her seemed to be the hardest one.

She tested putting her weight on her legs. A part of her was pleased that any damage wasn’t permanent, but a small part of her still dreaded the conversation she was about to have. With a weak smile to Sonic, she limped over to her saviour.

He was sat against a wall, seeming to be fixated on a spot in the middle of the floor with a barely perceptible frown on his brows.

“Hey.”

He startled, and jerked his head up to meet her eyes.

“Hello.” His gaze was… intense. A vermillion blaze that felt like it would burn her where she stood. But this time, the heat was… comforting. Like a blanket on a cold night, or… like her own, well restrained rage that burned below the surface. He was like her, she realised. Someone who held part of themselves at bay for fear it would be too much.

He motioned to the ground next to him. She swallowed hard again, hurrying to settle against the wall and almost forgetting to tuck her dress under her. As she settled, glancing over to her friends who hurried to pretend they hadn’t been staring, her usually steady hands shook.

She didn’t look at him initially. She was too ashamed of herself, and it seemed like he had no desire to break the silence either.

“I’m sorry I-”

“I shouldn’t have-”

They spoke in unison, stopping as soon as they realised they were talking over each other. Silence fell again. After a few moments, he waved her on.

Her throat felt dry. She knew that he didn’t hold her actions against her. He wouldn’t have saved her if he really disliked her. But navigating this conversation would be difficult regardless. She fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “What made you do it?” She began, chancing a look at him. Those eyes were upon her again, those eyes that simmered with an anger that she now understood was not for her. “I mean- what… Why did you come and help me and Sonic? I thought that you… that you wanted the Earth to be destroyed?”

His gaze lingered for a moment, shifting from one eye to the other and then cutting away to look back at the floor. “Humans are awful.” The silence that dragged out made her think that perhaps he wanted her to say something, but she didn’t know what. “I would have had no remorse if they had all met their end today. I wanted it, even, and you know that, but…” his voice petered out, as if he didn’t want to verbalise what he was about to say. He let out an exasperated sigh. “But you… you were ready to die for them. For people you don’t know, for people who don’t know you and don’t care about you.”

He turned back to her, eyes searching her face, as if he would find something written there that would put his mind at ease.

A smile spread across her face, a tiny laugh whispering past her lips. “Thank you, Shadow. That… that means a lot.”

He gave a kurt nod, moving to stand, but she caught his arm and his attention again. As he looked back to her, something pressed against his cheek. Something soft. Something soothing.

It was her lips, pressed delicately against the cheek she had slapped only hours before.

She sank back to sit against the wall, a self-satisfied smile still on her lips, as his own face started to burn.

She’d kissed him. This girl, who he’d snarled at and insulted. Who had stung his face with her palm. Had kissed him.

And, stranger still, it had left him wondering what the sensation would feel like had she caught his lips rather than his cheek, as his face began to burn.

Thanks for reading, and I really hope you enjoyed this fic :)

#amy rose #shadamy #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #shadamy fanfic #shadamy fanfiction #sonic big bang 2024

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pianokantzart · 1 year ago

Text

The Line of Fire

Luigi seems to be the only one who notices that the "Mario" wandering around The Mushroom Kingdom isn't really Mario. To make things worse, whoever the imposter is seems fully aware of Luigi's position, and is intent on doing whatever is necessary to threaten him into silence.

Another work based on the body swap concept from @elitadream. It has a firm grip on my brain and won't let go. Take care to check the tags for trigger warnings!

Word Count: 4307

Also available on Ao3: X

____________

It was late in the afternoon when Luigi finally made it home. He tried to look natural as he walked up the front steps of his little cottage on the outskirts of town, carrying a large bag of groceries in each arm, squeezing them tightly to himself every time his sensitive nerves picked up in the slightest little rustle of the grass or shadow cast by the clouds overhead. Glancing nervously over each shoulder he stepped to the front door, then– like a nervous animal– rushed across the threshold and kicked the door shut behind him.

In the familiar confines of his house, he felt no safer. He hurried into the kitchen and tried to ease himself with his usual tasks of putting away groceries and sweeping the floors, but it was no good. Whenever he successfully buried his fear, an equally powerful sense of guilt took its place. Here he was, going about his business like usual, as though his brother’s location and well-being weren’t a morbid mystery. Like something cruel and terrible hadn’t stolen him away and taken his place… Luigi set the broom aside and rubbed his temples, trying to think of what more he could do that he had not already done. What attempt he could make that wouldn’t jeopardize innocent lives? It was crucial to tread carefully, but it didn’t help that he barely even understood what was going on in the first place.

This thing that had taken his brother’s place… the “Not-Mario” he had come to call it… was, from what he could tell, a near-perfect imitation of his brother in appearance and abilities. Luigi had a few theories: some sort of shapeshifter, a facsimile created from magic, or something had stolen Mario’s body directly, and was now puppeting it for their own devices. He suspected the latter and was half-certain of the culprit. There was a startling familiarity to that hellish glint in what used to be his brother’s eyes, but he didn’t dare yet call the thing masquerading as Mario “Bowser.” It felt far too early to make assumptions. He only knew a few things for certain: Mario was in terrible trouble, there was something pretending to be Mario, the Not-Mario knew that he knew the truth, and nobody else seemed to see through the ruse. The doppelganger had assured him that the real Mario was still alive. It was implied in equal measure that Mario’s survival would be determined by whether or not the truth got out. He also threatened Princess Peach, the neighboring toads, and everyone else he could use as leverage, knowing Luigi had no desire to test whether or not he was bluffing.

Uncertainty and doubt knotted Luigi’s heart, endless questions eating away at him when he was steadily pulled from his thoughts by a spot of red appearing in the corner of his eye.

He turned and let out a yelp of surprise. There stood Mario’s body, void of Mario’s spirit, leaning against the doorway of their kitchen, glaring at him with those strange eyes. When did he come in? How long had he been in here? Why had he come here?

Throughout this entire ordeal, one of the few kindnesses Not-Mario had granted him was staying away from their home. This was a selfish comfort, of course, “Mario”’s absence merely meant that he was too busy doing who-knows-what elsewhere. Luigi nervously reexamined his brother’s face, hoping to find some faint glimmer of the man he’d grown up with, but if anything it had only gotten stranger since he had last seen it… sunken and tired, like he hadn’t slept at all.

Before Luigi could ask, Mario’s voice interrupted with a simple command: “Living room. Now.” “What?… Why can’t we talk here?” Not-Mario gave no response, he simply walked off, leaving Luigi feeling stupid for so much as posing the question. Of course not. Where they talked was not the point, the point was establishing at every opportunity who was in control.

Luigi anxiously stepped into the living room, and at once found himself being approached aggressively by his brother’s body, boxing him toward the back of the room where a couch and an easy chair sat in a small half-circle around a television set. “Where were you today?” Not-Mario Growled. Luigi braced himself against the arm of the couch. “I went to the marketplace. You know, to get groceries?” Not-Mario was unswayed. “Where else?”

Luigi gripped his arm and averted his eyes. No way. He was certain he’d been careful. He’d made sure he wasn’t followed. He knew the toad he handed the letter to, made him promise to keep it a secret. He’d done everything right! “N-nowhere else! I mean, I did take a little walk before making my way home.” “A walk? Did your little detour happen to bring you near Peach’s castle?” Luigi felt his heart drop as Not-Mario pulled a familiar envelope from his overall pocket. He held it up and stared daggers; a taunting, hateful grin spreading across his face. “It’s embarrassing, really. Don’t you know the palace guards have better things to do than deliver your mail for you?…”

On impulse, Luigi lept to snatch the envelope, but his opponent proved too quick, immediately catching him by the shirt collar and thrusting him backward, sending him toppling over into his old recliner with such force that he could feel the chair springs snap under him. “Sit down .” The demand was sharp and booming, the undercurrent of rage Not-Mario had carried with him since he first appeared bubbling to the surface. Luigi stayed seated, watching with held breath and a pounding heart as the thing with his brother's face tore open the sealed envelope, and read aloud the letter enclosed:

“Princess Peach, I hope this letter finds you well. I would like nothing more than to explain the situation in person, but I am in no position to do so without endangering your safety. Be wary of Mario, he is not who he seems to be. Keep one eye open at all times, and take care you aren’t left alone under any circumstances. I will do my best to find out what’s happening. I’ll contact you again once I have a better grasp of what to do. Until then, for the sake of The Mushroom Kingdom, remain vigilant.

Dutifully yours, – Luigi”

As he finished reading the letter, he turned his focus to the author, gauging his response. Luigi stayed where he was, putting on a poor performance of remaining calm as sweat trickled down his face and his chest pounded.

Not-Mario sighed and tucked the letter back into the envelope.

“You should be thankful this never made it into Peach’s hands. The moment she starts getting suspicious, I’ll have to start taking drastic measures.”

“H-how did you get that?” Luigi finally managed, clutching his knees in an attempt to hide the way his hands shook.

“You gambled the lives of your loved ones so you can play ‘hero,’ and you think you’re in a position to ask questions?”

With a flick of the wrist, the man in red ignited firebrand and rendered the envelope to ashes. Luigi watched the pieces scatter across the living room, catching one of them in his hands as though a part of him hoped his failed attempt to find help could be somehow pieced back together. “You know,” Mario’s voice continued, “there’s a rumor that you’re in the middle of some sort of nervous breakdown. Though I suppose it was only a matter of time… you aren’t exactly known for your mental fortitude, and your recent head injury hasn’t helped things either.”

“Head injury?” Luigi barely managed the question when saw Mario’s form rushing toward him, hardly giving him time to even register what was happening before a gloved hand gripped his face with enough force to rattle his teeth, tore him from his seat, and threw him across the room with unprecedented power. Luigi’s body crashed like a rag doll into the TV set, his back bruising on the edge of the console, his skull shattering the screen. He lay there for a moment on the heap of cracked wood and glass, struggling to lift himself up, the world spinning around him as his vision turned white with pain. A laugh filled the air, such a horrible laugh, clashing with a voice of warm familiarity to create something grotesque and alien. “Nobody in this kingdom believes in you. Your only redeeming quality is that you live under the same roof as I do.” It sneered. “Tell me, do you ever wonder how often Mario took solace in your little neighbors? Finally able to speak plainly about how hard it is being followed around by his quivering imbecile of a brother?” Luigi didn’t answer. His sibling’s stolen voice was laced with poison, but he refused to swallow. He owed Mario at least that small dignity. The voice prattled on. “We seem to be on pretty cozy terms… I’ve apparently earned their unwavering faith. That is not something I intend to squander.” These words made Luigi’s blood run cold. He scrambled to a standing position despite the pain that still rattled his skull. Seeing Mario’s body walking toward the exit, he called out. “What are you going to do?” The question was ignored, and all at once Luigi felt more terrified of seeing the imposter leave than he was of his presence. If this was Bowser, as he suspected, surely a minor concussion wouldn’t be the only consequence of his attempt to seek help. What of the toad guard he had given the letter to? What of the princess herself? What about The Mushroom Kingdom, too safe and cozy to even install locks on their doors? blissfully unaware of the monster that wandered amongst them?

“Wait!” Luigi called again, taking a few stumbling steps after the body of his brother. “I need to know you won’t hurt anyone!”

At this, Not-Mario stopped just short of gripping the handle and turned to Luigi with his brows raised. “First you demand answers, now you want me to make promises?”

“Yes! Swear you won’t hurt anyone. Otherwise, I’ll… I’ll…” Luigi stumbled over his words. He wrung his hands and swallowed a lump in his throat, gathering together what little courage he could scrounge from the growing pit in his stomach. What would Mario do? What would Mario do? Pull yourself together, do what Mario would do! He released a heavy breath as he sank into a fighting stance, a crackle of electricity rolling along the fingers of his gloves, the hair beneath his cap fluttering with static. “... I’ll… I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anyone.”

It was a wild gambit, but all he wished to do was relay a message. Yes, he was weak, yes, he was terrified, but he was just strong enough and brave enough to get in the way. There was still one hero left in The Mushroom Kingdom, and whoever this imposter was, he couldn’t just wander around and do whatever he wished.

This time, Luigi was prepared when Not-Mario rushed at him, and he met the attack with a blast of bright blue electricity.

He had no intention of causing serious damage– if this was his brother’s body, he was going to need it back in the best condition possible– but he did hope to incapacitate him. If luck was on his side, perhaps he could get enough of an upper hand to restrain him. Then what? He didn’t know if any of the toads would believe him, but perhaps if he could just get Princess Peach to see the imposter– ask him questions, look into his eyes, confirm for the sake of everyone that he wasn’t Mario– they could figure out a plan to get the real Mario back! Mario’s body seized up under the shock but didn’t fall, and though the muscles of his face stiffened his expression showed no hint of pain. Barely perturbed, he barreled into Luigi with full force, knocking him flat on his back. Before Luigi could recover he felt the full weight of the man bearing down on top of him, and two large powerful hands wrapped tightly around his throat. Mario was strong, stronger than Luigi remembered, which was certainly saying something. Luigi knew his brother always held back whenever they sparred– fun, playful fights meant to do nothing more than hone their skills– but the strength he possessed now almost didn’t make sense. It felt more akin to the motions of an unwavering machine than that of a man. It pushed forward with reckless abandon, shrugging off Luigi’s struggles and blows with the resilience of a brick wall. Gasping for air, Luigi sent another charge into Mario’s body, feeling the current surge through his arms back into his own throat, and yet these efforts only seemed to tighten the grip around his windpipe. As the seconds ticked on with agonizing slowness, his struggles became more mindless and desperate as his mind clouded, his vision darkening, the electricity flashing from his hands fading into faint sparks as the adrenaline of battle turned into an animalistic fight for consciousness.

He didn’t want to die here. Luigi was not ignorant of his own mortality, but he wanted to go out in a way that would’ve made Mario proud. If he had only successfully delivered the letter, had alerted the citizens of what was happening… even just put up enough of a fight to put the doppelganger in his place… he wanted to have gone down doing something– anything of use. He’d failed at every turn, and now he was going to die, strangled to death by the very hands that carried him when he was injured, held him close when he was scared, and dragged him repeatedly out of the jaws of danger. Luigi’s last coherent thought was a prayer that Mario would be okay, before every sensation thinned out into nothingness, and the whole world turned black.

“Well, that was a waste of my time .”

Bowser let out a tired huff as he looked down at the unconscious body of his enemy’s brother. Luigi lay perfectly still, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest, his bruised throat making a slight wheezing sound with every inhale and exhale. Satisfied that his opponent was down for the count, Bowser took the time to examine the damage that had been done to his own body. Pulling up his sleeves he found red burns, shaped like tree branches, stretching along his forearms up to his shoulders. Bowser flexed his limbs, confirming they worked the same as usual, though he knew they would likely hurt a great deal if he was in a position to feel pain. He was thankful the markings didn’t extend any further than they did. So long as he wore his usual long-sleeved shirt, nobody would see the injuries or ask questions. He rolled his sleeves back up and knelt beside Luigi, paying especially close attention to the darkening marks appearing along his throat. He felt a powerful urge to once again wrap his hands around that scrawny little neck and finish the job, not because of the threat he posed, or the insolence he had displayed, but the idea of delivering the corpse to the real Mario… seeing the look on his face… was just too delicious not to revel in. But no, right now the threat Luigi posed to his plans did not compare with the suspicion it’d elicit if he disappeared. Despite Bowser’s claims, the surrounding Toads were already inquiring about Luigi’s absence and well-being. Just today, a wrinkled old codger named Enoki approached him to ask whether Luigi would be able to play cards with him that weekend. Bowser had done his best to imitate Mario’s intonations when he explained Luigi was “not feeling well” with feigned concern, so forced he felt on the verge of biting off his own tongue. Thankfully, Enoki bought the claim wholeheartedly, and even gave him a bag of loose-leaf tea to take home “for his brother's nerves.” Bowser accepted with a feigned thankfulness and threw the gift into the nearest garbage once he was out of the old man’s line of sight.

At length, Luigi’s eyes fluttered open. Seeing his brother’s form standing over him, his gaze widened. He shuddered under a fresh wave of fear, and little bolts of electricity sparked across his skin. Bowser huffed. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re not dead?” Luigi didn’t speak. He clutched his throat with one hand and tried to push himself upright with the other, head lowered and eyes shut in apparent expectation of another attack.

“Don’t be so paranoid,” Bowser continued “You’d be far more of an inconvenience dead than alive. A nobody creates far less stir than the corpse of a nobody. But you did just try to attack me. What do you think I should do about that?”

Again, Luigi said nothing. While Bowser had initially enjoyed his fear-stricken silence, it began to feel more like defiance than submission. Seeing the plumber attempt to get to his feet, Bowser knocked the hat from his head with a sharp kick to the back of his skull and grabbed a fistful of hair. Forgetting his own shortness of stature, Bowser tried to lift Luigi all the way off the ground by his scalp. When all he could manage was to drag him halfway to his knees, he chose instead to twist his head at a purposefully painful angle.

“Answer me.” Luigi winced. His lip quivered as though he was trying to say something, but all that he managed was a pathetic squeak. Bowser leaned in closer to his “brother,” his lips unsettlingly close to his ear as he asked in a low growl: “Maybe if you’re so intent on imitating your sibling, I should bring you a little piece of him for inspiration? A few fingers, perhaps? Or better yet, one of his eyes…” This was a bluff, of course. The real Mario was imprisoned deep within The Darklands, chained up inside the hulking body Bowser used to inhabit. Though the thought of carrying out the threat was tantalizing, there could come a point where he’d need his old body back, and if Mario felt as disconnected from that body as he felt in this one, then mutilating him would be a waste. But Luigi didn’t know that. That was made clear by his reaction.

“No!” A hoarse plea finally burst from the man’s mouth. He clasped the hand that gripped his hair to ease the pain but didn’t dare struggle beyond that. “Please don’t! I’m sorry.”

Bowser tugged Luigi’s head back to better examine his face. Tears were already forming in his eyes, pouring down his cheeks. Disgusting. He’d forgotten this one was a cryer. It was easy to forget, for he had never known anyone of worth who cried. Junior was an exception, of course, but he was a still child– new to the world and his own emotions. Luigi was a grown man, a hero, allegedly, and yet he whimpered and sniffled as though it would garner any sort of pity. “You’re what?” Bowser growled. “Say that again.” “I’m sor-”

Bowser interrupted the second attempt at an apology by slamming his knee into Luigi’s stomach. He released him then, allowing him to crumble back to the floor at his feet. “Huh, I didn’t quite hear that. Say it again.”

Luigi’s whole body shivered, trying its best to cling to consciousness in its renewed struggle for air. “I’m… s-sorry.”

“Again. Louder.”

“I’m sorry!” Luigi’s voice steadily rose in pitch and volume as his breath returned to him, the tears in his throat and the bruises on his windpipe cracking his speech. “I’m sorry!”

The shrieky tone elicited a chuckle of genuine amusement from Bowser. After the stress of masquerading in his hated enemy's body for so long, seeing someone regard him with the fear and deference he deserved was a long-awaited bit of gratification. Taking advantage of the situation, Bowser made a little game of seeing how many times he could elicit an apology, and, of course, a crucial element of the fun was seeing to it Luigi stayed on the floor at his feet. Whenever the plumber tried to stand or crawl away, a sharp kick to the ribs or a stomp planted into the square of his back would send him back down to the ground.

But by “I’m sorry” number fifty-eight, Bowser grew bored.

So, with confident idleness, he abandoned Luigi in order to look around his nemesis’ home in search of fresh inspiration for what was to be done. Funny as the groveling was, there was a chance Luigi’s change of behavior wouldn’t last long. He didn’t trust him not to delude himself into attempting another “heroic” stunt once left to his own devices. It was crucial to get the message through. It didn’t take long for Bowser to find the staircase. The upper story was a bigger disappointment than the lower one, made up of only a shared bedroom and a bathroom, connected by a narrow hallway. Their cottage as a whole was far too small and simple for his liking, even when he was as physically diminutive as Mario. After all he had done for The Mushroom Kingdom, he should’ve at least been granted a small castle of his own.

Bowser entered the bedroom and looked around, wondering if there was anything there of value or information to be gleaned. No good, everything was trivial: comics and fantasy novels on the shelf, posters for small local bands hanging on the wall, multiple pairs of the same stupid overalls hanging in the closet. Atop the little table between matching red and green beds, there were a number of paper crafts. They were shoddily made… no doubt gifts by the local children. In a moment of impulse, Bowser ignited firebrand and released a little red flame to crawl across the corner of one of the paper stars. Finding a strange comfort in the sight, he allowed the fire to steadily spread to the other origami structures, and when its light began to fade he reinvigorated it with the flick of his hand. He ignited two more fires for good measure, one on the corner of Mario’s bed, another on the corner of Luigi’s, where the flames eagerly climbed up the downy quilts, swallowing the vibrant colors and filling the air with smoke.

He neither noticed nor cared when Luigi raced up the stairs. By the time the man in green had arrived, the fire had spread to the walls and the carpet, the rising flames painting little black spots on the ceiling.

“Looks like I was a little careless.” Bowser shrugged, watching the room burn with perfect calmness, “you may want to do something about this if you want to save your house.” Once Luigi overcame the paralysis of horror and disbelief, he disappeared back down the stairs. He was only gone for a few moments before he returned, armed with a fire extinguisher. Bowser stepped aside, allowing him to dive into the room and spray it down with a thick layer of white foam. When the smoke cleared and the heat died down, Bowser got a better look at his handiwork. The framework of the house still stood strong, but there was not a thing in the bedroom that the fire hadn’t marred, the vibrant reds and greens dulled and charred from the blaze, every furnishing and appurtenance disfigured. In the middle of it all was Luigi, holding the now empty fire extinguisher. He was making a valiant attempt to hide that he was crying again, harder than before, wiping at his face with his sleeve, airborne ash mingling with his tears, streaking his cheeks with soot. Bowser rolled his eyes. “I suppose you’d better get to work fixing this. Given your mental state, a project this big should help you occupy your troubled mind.” He nudged Luigi’s shoulder with a mocking friendliness, reveling in the way he tensed beneath his hand. “It’s probably best that you stay at home, anyway. And you will be staying home from now on, right?”

Luigi’s arms tightened around the fire extinguisher. Bowser readied himself, just in case the plumber suffered another flash of impulsive bravery and tried to swing it at him. But Luigi pulled no such stunt… he simply lowered his head and nodded.

Satisfied, Bowser left without another word. Heading down the stairs and crossing through the shattered remains of the living room, he shut the door firmly behind him before he hurried down the steps of “his” home, and headed back down the road toward the glimmering pink castle in the distance.

The first order of business would be to go into town and make sure whatever toads had seen the smoke were reassured that everything was under control; that the fire didn’t do much damage, and was “more smoke than flames.” Then, he would meet with the squadron of Koopas he had successfully snuck behind the palace walls. After exchanging intel, he would select a few to watch the outside of Mario’s house and ensure Luigi honored the agreement.

Halfway back to his destination, Bowser rolled up his sleeves slightly to reexamine the electric burns on his arms. He frowned, wondering if he had been too lenient. Luigi was no Mario, but the fact that he tried defying him at all was worthy of concern. Bowser decided then that at the next hint of insolence, the very slightest sign of defiance, Luigi would officially no longer be worth the trouble of keeping around.

In the meantime, however, he was at the very least entertaining.

#Super Mario Brothers #Bowser #Luigi #Strangulation TW #My Writing #tw: strangulation #tw: abuse #tw: violence #again... not my au. Not my rules. Just my two cents on how the situation could go down

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ririya-translates · 1 year ago

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Kai Mutsumi's Short Story

For Kai's birthday, September 23rd, I translated his short story from the official Jack Jeanne website. They were all written by Shin Towada, the main writer of Jack Jeanne who worked closely with Ishida in creating the world. Concept art by Lownine (who I mistakenly referred to a Ronin before). Spoilers are minimal since it takes place before the first performance.

From a thick tree trunk, countless outstretched branches and leaves blocked out the light from the sky. Moss carpeted over its roots as the the fern leaves swayed up and down, still clinging with moisture despite an absence of rain. "….." On that shaded mountain, one person lingered as if melting into the silence. This person was Kai Mutsumi, although most people just called him Kai. Rather than following the cheeping songs of birds, his eyes remained fixed on the scenery. He stood in place like the trees, their roots stretched deep into the earth over tens, even hundreds, of years to mark the passage of time.

In ancient times, Mount Oodate came to be an object of religious worship. While once considered a sacred mountain separate from the human realm, it presently stood as the backdrop for Univeil Drama School. In an unimagined turn of events, it now ushered in crowds of people for the brilliantly captivating performances.

Kai was also a student, entering into his final year. He was part of the Quartz class. Their class theme was 'transparency' since many were unexperienced actors who had yet to fully develop their true colours. Kai was like that once too. "…Start of classes, hmm" It was spring. A fresh group of students had just enrolled in the Quartz class. ― How are this year's new students looking in your eyes, Kai? The words flashed clearly through his mind. It was only natural since they were from just a bit earlier that day.

The one asking was Kokuto Neji. He had a unique background as the Quartz class lead as well as the script writer and a performer. He was responsible for many aspects of setting their stage and was a man of immense talent, but had some strong peculiarities. The eyes behind his glasses were always seeking out things of interest. Today was no different. Kai closed his eyes to the remember the conversation with Neji.

"What I see in the first-years?" "Yes! I'm curious how the determined attempts of these baby birds to fly in the Newcomers' Performance look in your eyes." Did he have a reason for asking this or was it just on a whim? Regardless, Kai knew that trying to resist him would just be a waste of time. He surveyed the first-year students while sorting his thoughts. (Those three…) His eyes stopped on the three first-years who had grouped up and seemed to be discussing something. The one who attracted notice everywhere through his brightness was Suzu Orimaki. Another who was reserved, but listened intently to everyone else with a face of careful consideration, was Soushiro Yonaga. And finally, standing between the two of them, was the one speaking with the sincere expression ― "Ah, they're fascinating, those guys." The sharp-eyed Neji adjusted his glasses and looked at them. "When starting here, it's easy for people to have the mentality of 'I'm number one! Get outta the way, classmates!' But those three are always together. For better or worse, they stand out." Excitement spread to the corners of Neji's lips. "Well anyways, whether it would bring us good luck or bad…" The eyes deep behind the glasses looked over the new students as if appraising them. "…Don't put on an act to try to test them," Kai warned. "Hey! You think I have that kinda free time? I only use use my time for creating the best performance possible!" "…." "Ohh, is that a look of concern I see? Can't you trust me, Jack Ace?" Neji's words triggered an unconscious grimace. At Univeil Drama School where both male and female roles were played by male students, male roles were called Jacks and female roles were called Jeannes. Being blessed with a tall stature, strong physical ability, and sincere acting talent, Kai was given the lead role among Jacks: the Jack Ace. Next to the lead Jeanne, known as the Al Jeanne, they formed the face of the class. But unlike the current Al Jeanne, Sarafumi Takashina, Kai never adjusted to the title. "I will always be just a vessel." A vessel was meant for the purpose of making the Al Jeanne flower radiate even more brilliantly. He was the shadow to contrast Sarafumi Takashina's sparkle. Kai felt that this was his role. And the one who put Kai in this position was the same Kokuto Neji. "Are you unsatisfied with something?" "…No." There was nothing unsatisfying about supporting Fumi. Kai felt fully determined to dedicate himself to the Quartz class with every ounce of his ability. That being said, he felt a painfully large disparity between himself and the title of Jack Ace. He was well aware of the amount of talent Fumi possessed in order to be an Al Jeanne ever since joining the school.

Kai looked again towards the trio of first-years. He felt a twinge of jealousness seeing them standing as equals as they seriously discussed their acting. However, he was unsure when their equilibrium would be thrown off balance. "Hmm, I wonder who will show results at the Newcomers' Performance."

Wind blew past carrying the scent of greenery and rustle of leaves. Kai opened his eyes and calmly observed the drizzle of sunlight falling through the trees. The blinding light emitted at Univeil from people pursuing their dreams was at times too brilliant for Kai's eyes to bear. For that reason, he surrounded himself in nature where he could be his honest self. He took in a breath. (…I'll just do what is required of me). With this thought in mind, right as he was about to close his eyes, something white suddenly appeared in the corner of his vision. "…? Ahh…" Once he got a better look through the gaps in the fern leaves, he saw a white weasel peeking its face out. It shot a glance at Kai then dashed off down the mountain. A number of wild animals lived on Mount Oodate. But out of all of them, the weasel was said to be the most important to the mountain worshippers. That being said, they almost never approached people but… "Whoa!" He heard a voice from the behind the corner where the white weasel had just disappeared. "That voice is…" Kai headed in the voice's direction. On the other end was one of his juniors, a person from the first-year trio. Compared to Suzu Orimaki, Soushiro Yonaga and the rest, he had a smaller frame and no Adam's apple. It was as if he hadn't been made to experience puberty. The white weasel began to affectionately circle around the student's feet. After enjoying this for a while, perhaps satisfied, it left with a leap. After watching it move out of sight, the first-year opened his script. It was probably the script for the Newcomers' Performance. He made a complicated expression as he stared intently at the same page. Maybe something wasn't coming together. Having big eyes on a delicate and petite frame was a valuable asset for boys performing as women at Univeil. Naturally, it was assumed he would be living as Jeanne from here on. (But…) Seeing such passion for the stage slip out on this student's face, Kai felt a strength that wasn't just limited to being a Jeanne. Jack Ace and Al Jeanne candidates were generally chosen during the first year. Those with talent had something different that set them apart from the beginning. For Kai's grade, Fumi was one of these people. In that case, this first-year might… "…? Oh, Kai! Great practice today!" After possibly noticing Kai's gaze, the younger student popped up his head. A particularly soft air brushed across Kai's cheek. He had come here to be alone, but he felt a relaxing atmosphere even with his junior here. Kai opened his mouth and said, "If there something you don't get, we can practice together."

#jack jeanne #jackjeanne #otome game #translation #kai mutsumi #hbd mountain man

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authoressofdarkness · 2 years ago

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Happy to announce that I am ALIVE and doing the @starkerfestivals Summer Bingo again this year! Working on a few fills and they won't always be in order like this, but this just happened to be half completed in my drafts and was an easy fill. Keep your eyes peeled for more bingo fills and updates from me! Love y'all!

Also, if this feels familiar it's because it's an extended version of/inspired by a moodboard I did a long while back. I hope everyone enjoys! 💙

Fill: Thigh Fucking

This facility has a prime selection of omegas.

Tony has no intention of taking any one but the best one. One that’s perfect for him — someone young, sweet, innocent, untouched, and well-behaved. He doesn’t have time to mess with badly behaved pets. He’s a very busy man. He needs one that will do exactly what he tells them to, when he tells them to, both sexually and otherwise.

He doesn’t really care what kind of hybrid they are. He’s leaning more toward something canine, or at least not feline. He doubts he’d get along well with a feline. He wants a hard worker, someone eager to please, and preferably as horny as he is. Felines… usually don’t tick many of those boxes.

This is the fourth center he’s been to today. He’s determined to find a pet and not go home empty handed — but he’s not willing to settle for less than exactly what he wants, either. So they continue looking.

But he thinks his looking is about over.

One whiff of that sweet scent, and he’s intrigued. He scents the area again, eyes searching for where his nose is leading.

And when he lands on it, he can’t help but grin.

It’s a puppy hybrid — and a pretty one, at that. Big doe eyes, soft, dark curls, porcelain skin draped in a soft gown. He’s over in the corner of the display room, curled up in one of the soft chairs and working on some knitting. He’s looking through the glass directly at Tony when Tony’s eyes find him. He immediately grows a smirk that flashes his canines, and the puppy blushes and drops his eyes back to his knitting quickly.

“That one,” Tony says, sure of himself.

Less than fifteen minutes later, a worker is guiding the omega into a private meeting room by the leash around his throat. They’ve changed him into a completely transparent white slip, and muzzled and bound him.

The puppy seems more curious than anything as the worker places the leash in his waiting hand and leaves the room, though his scent betrays a hint of nerves.

“Don’t be scared, sweet thing.” He wraps the leash around his hand a few times, shortening it, and gives it a firm tug, pulling the omega a few steps closer. “I won’t hurt you, if you can behave. I just need to do a more thorough examination before I decide whether to buy you or not. Talk to you a little. Can you be a good boy for me while I do that?”

The omega nods quickly, and he smiles. “Good boy. Sit here, would you?” He pats the table behind him. “Just hop on the edge for me.”

He compiles. Tony offers him his best attempt at a gentle smile. “Thank you. Now…”

He’s a real potential buyer, not just some walk in wanna-be off the street, so he knows he’s allowed to touch. So he does. He lifts the poor excuse for a slip that the omega was wearing up and almost entirely off, looking him over. He lets himself run a hand down his front, from his chest right down between his thighs.

The pup gives a little surprised yelp at that, though it’s mostly contained by the muzzle. Tony just chuckles, shushing him. “Easy, pup. I’m just trying to get a feel for what might be mine, hm? I’ll be gentle.”

Tony pushes the puppy down, so he lays flat on his back on the table, and spreads his legs wider, taking a good look at him. The curls between his thighs look just as soft and pretty as the ones on his head. He pets there, gently, looking up at the omega’s face. His eyes flutter beneath the muzzle, breath hitching in his chest.

“Look at me.”

Bambi eyes flutter open, locking on him. His hips squirm just a little under the touch.

“You like it when I pet you here, sweetheart?”

He nods quickly again, eyes wide and pupils huge.

Tony smiles. “Good. I’ll pet you here often.” He stops, setting his hands on his thighs. “I’m a busy man, Peter. When I make time for you, I expect not to be told no. I also expect obedience. You do what I tell you when I tell you to do it, or there will be punishment — and if it happens too much, I’d have to get rid of you. Understand? Can you handle that?”

Another nod.

“Good.” He grabs his waist, pulling him a bit closer. He’s satisfied with the answers, and the pup’s attitude. He seems pliant and eager to please. And he’s even more gorgeous than he imagined. “Now, you’re not leaving here without my scent on you. And I know just how to do it.”

He sits the pup up and rests his hands on his thighs. “Take out my cock, puppy.”

Eager to please, his puppy complies, little hands opening his fly and fishing his cock free from his pants. His hands are small and warm, unsteady, but they feel perfect wrapped around the base of his cock.

“Go ahead, look at it, pup. Touch, just for a minute,” he encourages.

The pup does, clumsy as he starts to stroke him, but obviously trying his best. Tony doesn’t mind. He’ll train him just how he wants him when they get home. And right now, just the thought of doing that is enough to make him hard, which is all he really wanted him to achieve right now anyway.

“Good boy,” Tony praises, then catches the pup’s wrists. “That’s enough. Lay back on the table.”

He does, letting his hands fall to his sides and his legs fall open again as he does. Tony chuckles, grabbing two handfuls of the omegas thighs and pressing his legs together. “Just like that…” He shifts them both until he’s perfectly lined up, cock easily slipping between his thighs. The omega has started to get wet by now, and slick dripping from his hole is enough to make it a perfect, smooth glide as he begins to fuck the omega’s thighs.

Even their bodies are almost perfectly in sync. Tony can't hide his excitement, and he doesn't try, either, lips curving into a downright feral smile.

Though Tony is making no attempt to pleasure him, the omega is only getting wetter, and the little whimpering sounds he makes – presumably at the friction, but also maybe at just how turned on he is – are almost enough to push him over the edge on their own. Tony growls, the sound low in his chest, and then comes without warning him, coating the omega's thighs and the front of his body.

The puppy squirms, but not like he's trying to get away; almost as if he wants to roll around, probably basking in the alpha's scent, the obvious claim he's staked on his body. He's looking at him with those big eyes again, his pupils blown wide. The nerves he smelled before are still there, but the pup's unmistakable horniess is so strong it covers it up almost completely.

Tony grinned, showing entirely too many teeth to be reassuring, but he didn't care. He has exactly what he wants, now.

He lets go of the omega and fixes his pants, tucking his cock away for now. Again, the omega's legs fall open almost automatically, and Tony rumbles again at the sight, this time with a possessive edge.

He bent to press a kiss to the omega's sticky thigh, then another over his wet heat, chuckling when the pup jumps under him. He straightens, taking the omega's hands and pulling him upright.

"In the car…" Tony promises, lips close to his ear, and only when he's drawing back does he realize he never even asked for the puppy's name. He takes the tag on his collar between two fingers. "Peter. Hmm. Pretty name for a pretty puppy. Now, let's get on with it, shall we?"

Taking the leash in hand again, Tony gives a firm tug and the omega hops off the table, trotting at the alpha's heels toward the door. His slip falls back into place, but there's no hiding the mess Tony made of his body underneath it. Just the way Tony likes it.

Tony orders all paperwork and payment requests sent to him at home. He's Tony Stark, after all. No one is going to stop him, and no one does as he walks his new pet to the car waiting for them outside.

Tony slides in and pulls the puppy onto his lap, hands already underneath his slip again. "You and I are going to have so much fun together," he tells him, and Peter just looks at him with those perfect wide doe eyes as the car speeds away.

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #sfsummerbingo23 #starkerfestivals #starkerfestivalsevents #omegaverse #alpha tony stark #omega peter parker #puppy hybrid peter parker #my writing #bingo fill

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casspurrjoybell-17 · 1 year ago

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HEART'S FATE - CHAPTER 54

*Warning Adult Content*

As Skylar West disappears from sight, dragged into the abyss by the weight of the rock chained to his tail, a yelp of agony rips itself from Martin Hunter's lungs.

He lunges at the barrier, as if he could somehow reach Skylar in time but Anemone throws her arms around his neck and holds him back.

"Martin. No. You can't help him now. He's... he's gone."

Her breath catches on a sob and trembles shake her thin frame.

Martin could easily throw her off but whether because of the power in her voice or because he simply lack the strength to resist the truth, his muscles go weak with grief and he collapses with a whimper.

"I'm sorry," Anemone whispers, laying her head atop his as she hugs him tight. "I'm so sorry, Martin."

A whine is all he can do to express similar sympathy but she understands.

As her tears wet his fur, pain fills Martin's chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"Martin?" Anemone sits up and shakes me lightly. "Martin."

He had stopped breathing altogether for a moment and rouse himself with an effort.

Between the remnants of his first mate-bond and now losing his second, the Devouring will almost certainly claim him.

'First, though, Natalis will pay.'

He gets to his feet, his limbs trembling and takes an unsteady step, head lowered and hackles raised.

Anemone grasps a handful of his fur, attempting to hold him back and he turns and snaps at her.

A wounded animal is the most dangerous sort and Martin is in too much pain to think clearly.

Undaunted, Anemone refuses to let him go.

Ill-advisedly, she gets in front of him, putting her face right in front of his.

Her eyes, fringed by long, ginger lashes, are the same ocean green as Skylar's.

"Martin, listen to me," she says, so intently he can't help but obey. "You won't win if you challenge her directly. Believe me, I know. But there's another way. Look."

From a pocket of her loose gown, she produces a familiar object.

Skylar's amulet.

"Help me," she says. "Help me find my mother's statue. If we can free her, she will have the power to stop Natalis and put her in her place."

Martin's heart aches with a burning mix of rage and sorrow and he wavers between warring impulses.

Part of him wants to find Natalis and tear her throat out and part wants to lie down, go to sleep and never wake up again.

She's right, though on his own, the first well-thrown spear will put an end to Martin's endeavor and he owes it to Skylar not to give in to despair just yet.

So he snorts, shakes out his fur and touches his nose to Anemone's forehead, a wolfish way of saying 'let's go.'

Grimly, she nods.

"I don't think Natalis can have moved the statue very far, not out of the palace, anyway and she'll have to have made the replica somewhere nearby as well. We'll search every room."

She rises, determination hardening the set of her jaw but Martin gently grasp her hand in his teeth and whine insistently.

They don't have time for that.

She shakes her head.

"I know. Natalis and her guards won't waste time now they've gotten rid of Sky. We'll just have to stay ahead of them as long as we can."

Martin nuzzles her hand.

Frowning, she unclasps it to reveal the amulet.

"You want this?"

He whines again.

Finally, understanding blooms on her face.

"Of course. It led Sky to you, maybe it will lead you to Mother. Here."

Bending, Anemone places it around his neck.

Sitting on his haunches, Martin tilts his head to the side in anticipation but the amulet is nothing but a cold weight upon his fur.

Then, faintly, he feels a trace of heat as the stone warms and a strange vibration like the buzz of a trapped insect fluttering it's wings.

Anemone watches anxiously.

"Anything?"

Martin snorts and gets to his feet, claws clicking on cold stone.

Experimentally, he takes a few steps in one direction, pauses, double backs and tries the other.

The amulet warms a little on the second try and the vibration increases.

He looks back at Anemone and barks softly.

The pain in his heart remains and fatigue makes his head spin but it feels ever so slightly good to be on even this tiny trace of a trail.

"Alright," she says. "You lead the way."

Her expression is set, though her voice trembles with fear.

Martin can't blame her, if he were related to Natalis, he'd be scared, too.

They set off, wending a chaotic path down corridors and flights of stairs.

The amulet's pull is constant but the layout of the palace prevents Martin from following it in a straight line.

Several times he turns to Anemone, confounded by some obstacle and relies on her knowledge of the floorplan to get them where they need to go.

Fortunately, she knows the place as well as any kid knows her childhood home and gets them back on track without fail.

Finally, they arrive in an area Martin recognizes, emerging from a passageway into the grand hall.

Anemone holds him back while she checks that the coast is clear but the palace remains eerily quiet.

"It won't last," she says, reading his mind. "But Natalis can't just disappear after what she did. There will be questions to answer and condolences to exchange. We've got a few minutes yet before she can slip away without raising more eyebrows than are already up."

Martin leans his head against her leg to signal his understanding and then trots out into the hall.

The click of his claws echoes in the massive space and Anemone tiptoes after him.

In the center of the open space, Martin pauses once more, uncertain but the amulet's direction is clear.

Pointing his snout towards the throne room, he imitates a hunting dog and growls.

"In there?" Anemone asks, resting her hand on his head. "Are you sure?"

Martin whines and nips at her fingers.

It makes no sense to him either.

It would be silly of Natalis to keep the real and the fake statues in the same room and Natalis is anything but silly and yet the amulet's pull is undeniable.

Anemone nods.

"Alright. I suppose if there's one place I'd never think to look, it's in plain sight."

A sound startles them both and the tell-tale tone of angry voices tells Martin, their time is nearly up.

Together, they dash to the throne-room doors, where Anemone throws them open and slams them shut at their backs.

"Quick. Help me with the barricade. That will buy us a bit more time," Anemone whispers breathlessly once we're safely inside.

Unsure how much use he'll be in this form, Martin stays close to her side but it seems the emotional support is enough.

The heavy wooden beam, perhaps once salvaged from the mast of a ship, rests in a groove parallel to the wall.

With one good shove, it slides along an oiled track and falls into place with a satisfying thunk, a clever design obviously intended for one person to use as a last resort.

"There," Anemone says, dusting off her hands and huffs. "That should hold them for a bit. Now, as for Mother..."

She chews her bottom lip and scans the rounded walls of the cupola, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of the statue the way one finally spots an illusive item in a seek-and-find game.

With a quiet yip, Martin begins his own investigation, running a quick circuit of the room, letting the amulet guide him.

The heat and vibrations are strongest near the place where the false throne once stood and on his second round of the room, he begins to despair.

What if, this whole time, the amulet had only been attracted to the lure of the place it's former owner had worn it last?

What if Natalis had lied and she'd actually destroyed her mother's form long ago?

With no answer in sight and suddenly drained of energy, he lies down, rests his head on his paws and shuts his eyes.

"Martin?" Anemone kneels at his side and lays her hand on his back. "Don't give up now. We're so close. We've got to be."

A whimper and a shiver are the best reply he can give.

Meanwhile, new sounds reach them from the hall and Natalis' voice breaks through the clamor.

Anemone shrinks against Martin and buries her face in his fur.

"Please," she whispers. "Please, Martin. Sky believed in you. He'd never have brought you here otherwise. I believe in you, too. The amulet led you here for a reason. I'm sure of it."

A shudder wracks his frame, making his wolf's teeth clack together.

He wants to believe her but the truth is Skylar maybe made a mistake or the amulet did, leading the handsome merman to him.

Just as it made a mistake now, leading Martin here.

'I, on the other hand, feel I should have known better than to believe myself worthy of happiness, should have known it was too good to be true.'

Grief weighs on his heart, as heavy as the stone bound to Skylar and the urge to sleep is strong.

If he shuts his eyes, he can conjure his lover in memory, just as he appeared when Martin first met him in the art room, that fateful afternoon, when his life began to come undone.

'No,' he thinks. 'No, my life was already undone. Sky put it back together, one act of love at a time.'

Maybe the amulet made a mistake, maybe Martin never deserved Skylar and never will but for whatever reason, Skylar chose Martin anyway.

The least he can do is try to put things right now.

With an effort, he opens his eyes and raises himself to his feet.

Giving Anemone a reassuring lick on the cheek, he trots over to where a drapery or curtain hangs in loose folds against a wall.

Nosing his way behind it, he Shifts.

"Martin?" Anemone's voice lifts with alarm as his wolfish whimpers become a human cry of pain. "What are you... oh."

He steps from behind the drapery, holding a fold of it in front of himself for modesty, as the amulet is all he wears.

"I can sense it better like this and I need to think," Martin says, pressing the warm gem against his bare skin.

His voice is rough and raspy and he leans on the wall for support.

"Is there... something I can use to cover myself?"

Anemone shakes her head.

"Never mind. I've seen a naked man before."

He only hesitates a moment.

Skylar said the Mer-folk had no qualms about nudity and now isn't the time to be shy.

Still, Anemone definitely looks when Martin lets go of the cloth and he's far from comfortable as he circles the room, doing his best to ignore the shouts and bangs from the other side of the door.

"They'll be through, soon," Anemone says, anxiously chewing a nail. "They'll have the hinges off."

"What's on the other side of this wall?" Martin asks, resting his hand against the stones as the amulet's vibrations subtly increase.

"Nothing," Anemone says, shrugging. "The sea."

"Is there another way out of here?"

"There's the viewing platform but it hasn't been used in ages."

"What is it?"

"Just a window, really. Sometimes when Mother gave important speeches it would be opened so people could gather and watch from outside."

"Show me."

Anemone joins Martin by the wall and presses a recessed panel.

A section of stone bricks lowers into the floor, revealing what appears to be glass but when he reached out, his fingers encounter something more like jelly.

It ripples beneath his touch and he suspects if he pushed hard enough, his hand would pass right through.

"Careful," Anemone says. "You can get out but not back in. For security, you know."

Withdrawing his hand, Martin studies the scene on the other side.

It looks like an overgrown, undersea field, full of waving kelp and glowing corals.

"She's out there," Martin says, somehow certain of it. "In the sea grass somewhere."

Anemone gasps.

"But that's... There must be a hectare of the stuff. It would take forever to search it. Much longer than you could hold your breath, anyway."

The shouts on the other side of the door grow louder and Martin hear wood splintering.

"We won't have to search the whole thing," Martin says. "The amulet will guide me right to her. Come on, it's that or face Natalis and her guards."

"Martin... you don't understand," Anemone lays her hand on my arm and gestures at the view with her other. "This is outside the palace walls. Outside the barrier. If you go out there, there's no quick way back in. You'll drown."

Martin looks at her and smiles.

"Not before I free the queen."

Her eyes fill with tears and the corners of her mouth tremble.

"How many people do I have to lose today?"

"Hopefully just one. And you'll get your mom back."

"I want Sky back more," she whispers.

"Me, too," Martin says, taking her hand. "Come on. Let's do this before they break through. It won't take them long to figure out where we've gone."

Anemone nods miserably but her eyes shine with determination as well as tears.

"Deep breath," she says.

'Last one for the win,' Martin thinks and fills his lungs.

Then, hand in hand, they step through the barrier and into the sea.

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lothiriel84 · 2 years ago

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Only As It Gives You Pleasure

A Pride and Prejudice ficlet. Asexual (and possibly aromantic?) spectrum!Elizabeth.

They had been married for a twelvemonth when Elizabeth had the sort of epiphany she had hardly expected to experience, even less after undergoing such a material change of feelings towards her dearest husband since the start of her acquaintance. For all that she now knew he had singled her out almost from the beginning – and despite his own determined attempts to nip his nascent regard for her in the bud – she was equally aware that her own affections had not been engaged until much later, when she was all but sure there was no chance he would ever consider renewing his addresses.

As for her earlier animosity towards him, she naturally put it down to the slight she had received from him at the Meryton assembly, and his subsequent behaviour in what he perceived to be lower company; and while she might admit to some enjoyment of their sparring, she thought of it as a subtle way to put him in his place, as well as to manifest her continued displeasure in his haughty, prideful conduct. She was therefore completely befuddled when Georgiana, of all people, started displaying a similar manner whenever she happened to be in the company of a particular gentleman of her acquaintance.

“I can’t fathom why she should despise Sir Robert this much, that is all,” she pondered idly one evening, as she joined her husband in the library after a quick visit to the nursery. Anne Elizabeth Darcy was sleeping soundly in her cot, much to her mother’s delight. “He is a most amiable young man, I am sure.”

Fitzwilliam Darcy arched a single eyebrow in response to such a pronouncement, and appeared genuinely convinced that his wife was intent on teasing him. “I can assure you, I had a most interesting conversation with the young lady last night. You may rest assured I will grant my consent, when the time comes.”

“William! How can you speak so? It is hardly in your sister’s nature to disagree with anyone, and it would never do to encourage a match between them when she clearly feels such animosity towards the gentleman in question.”

The look on her husband’s face clearly expressed his conviction that she was being particularly obtuse on purpose. “Georgiana told me in confidence she feels it too early to determine whether she is in love, but she did not attempt to deny she holds the gentleman in high regard; it is clear to me she has been drawn to Sir Robert right from the start of their acquaintance, and I for one delight in her vivacious response to his – thus far unofficial – courtship.”

Elizabeth blinked, wondering at how she could have misread the entire situation. “I thought,” she started, only to trail off as she quickly realised she had no desire to bring up the unpleasantness of her past conduct.

“You thought the liveliness of their banter was much too reminiscent of the early days of our acquaintance, did you not?” her husband enquired after a long pause, his eyes fixed on her as if intent on reading her innermost thoughts.

“I am sorry, William, I did not mean to imply – I’m the one who said that we should only think of the past as it gives us pleasure, after all.”

Darcy waved away her concern, his thoughts seemingly taking an entirely different direction. “You know, I have always wondered – I am well aware of how seriously displeased you were with me at the time, and yet – there was something in the way you responded to my presence, I feel sure of it.”

“I wish it were so, husband dear, but I fear I did not come to love you until I had been proven thoroughly wrong in my sketching of your character up to that point.”

She was more than a little surprised to see the colour rise to his cheeks, and he looked more than a little uncomfortable when he finally spoke again. “I wasn’t referring to – I mean to say, I – I know this is hardly proper as a subject of conversation, but – when we danced at Netherfield, and even after my – that is to say, when we were both at Rosings, I,” he closed his eyes briefly, then shook his head. “Best we forget I mentioned this, I think. There’s scarcely any point in dwelling on the past, as you said yourself.”

Elizabeth’s mind had been busily unravelling the puzzle of her husband’s incoherent remarks, which, when paired with the insight he had offered into Georgiana’s most recent behaviour, led her to a most incredible conclusion. “Are you asking me whether I was drawn to you, dear husband, even while I clearly held you in no regard whatsoever?”

“I – the thought had crossed my mind, yes,” he admitted, in that stilted manner he assumed when faced with embarrassment. “My foolish pride again, I presume.”

His wife opened her mouth to offer a witty repartee, only to snap it shut when a sudden flash of clarity opened an entirely new understanding of her own character. “Had you asked me at any point over the past two years, I would have laughed you out of the room. And yet – I cannot honestly discard the possibility that you might in fact be correct in your assessment.”

He offered her a somewhat doubtful glance. “Surely you would have known it sooner, had that been the case. You had been out for some time by that point, and some other gentleman was bound to have caught your eye before, or even – after.”

Elizabeth coloured a little at such an indirect allusion to George Wickham. What a foolish girl she had been, accepting Wickham’s lies for the truth, and yet – she had not once experienced that particular feeling in his presence, she now realised. Her affections might have been briefly engaged – or would have been, had they been allowed to continue their acquaintance in such a way as she had been wishing for at the time – but as a married woman, she could now tell the difference between regard, and, well, desire.

“I can’t say they ever did,” she shook her head. “Oh, do not misunderstand me – I had my share of short-lived infatuations, as any other girl my age, but I do not think I have ever looked upon a gentleman in such a way as I did you. I cannot say I recognised it at the time, and I haven’t given it much thought ever since, but I – I thank you for teaching this about myself, though I am not sure what to do with such knowledge now.”

Any devoted husband half as much in love as Mr Darcy was could scarcely be expected to react to this kind of declaration in a sensible manner; Elizabeth found she had no objections of her own to meeting his ardour in kind, and a very pleasant half hour was spent as a direct consequence.

“I hope Georgiana and Sir Robert are very happy,” she murmured at length, her head still nestled under her husband’s chin. “I know we are,” she smiled up at him, and was rewarded with a most tender kiss for her trouble.

#Pride and Prejudice #Elizabeth Bennet #Mr Darcy #Elizabeth/Darcy #asexual spectrum #aromantic spectrum #(probably?)#I wrote a thing

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anotherclassicpretence · 2 months ago

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The Shadows of Frostfall, Chapter 8

“Speaking of him,” Delphine shook off her emotions and tried to anchor herself into the present– “you said that he had a letter for me.”

“He does. And it’s not encrypted, so you won’t need the stencil. It is vital, agent, that you obey him… to the letter.”

“Divines help us, Gaius, that was truly painful.” She smiled as she took the letter from him, breaking that all-too-familiar seal with a strange twinge of sentiment in her mind. She stood up, pacing with restless energy, reading it intently.

To Delphine,

We have lost, my dear. We have been blind, and complacent, and so cut-off from the world in our fortresses and our solemn proclamations of power that the storms have swallowed us unawares, the seas are swirling around us in merciless rage.

Barely had I heard of the events in the Palace when it came to me in an instant that we were outmanoeuvred and surrounded. Cloud Ruler stood calm and resolute with the conviction that it was soon to be put to death, and was determined to face it well.

The agents of the Thalmor are watching our movements, gathering their forces in the forest around. Over-confident as we were, we never thought to fortify the heart of our order. The Temple will fall soon, and we with it. Death is certain, and our only choice is whether to run to it in a glorious charge or invite it closer and closer every night as we suffer through a siege.

I have sent Gaius through one of the last passageways that we control, but it is unlikely that even he, best-acquainted with this region, would have emerged unscathed. Sending more- attempting an evacuation- would definitely have drawn their attention. As it is, all our brothers and sisters have refused to abandon the temple. There is a greed we have, child, to die with honour, and when we know that Death is soon approaching, that greed overpowers our sense of duty.

Perhaps this letter written for your eyes is fated to be plucked off Gaius’ body and mocked by our enemies. If so, I salute you, that you have fooled us so completely. Fight us with honour as we make our last stand, if such a thing is possible for you! Your evil must be potent indeed, to have converted one of our own into a traitor.

Even if Gaius succeeds, I have commanded him not to return. After you, he is our youngest agent, and I wish to give him some chance of survival. If you ever meet him again, embrace him as perhaps your last brother in this world. Look out for one another.

We have purged this place of all knowledge, of all our records of the last three eras and beyond. The location and identity of our few remaining temples and members is now lost. It is a great loss for Tamriel, but it is better we forget than the wrong people remember.

Promise me, as my niece and as my knight, that you will not attempt any foolhardy rescue for us. The Divines have blessed you by preserving your life. Do not throw it away, either in an excess of bravery or of grief. I want you to grow wise- strong, patient, and resourceful. I want you to make sure that people still speak of the Blades after this war has run its course.

The Blades have had a long history- we have been many different things through the ages. Akaviri dragonslayers, servants of the Dragonborn, bodyguards of the Emperor… but that very history has put upon us the burden of legacy. We could not remember our true mission, a needle in the haystack that was our multifaceted role.

Keep your ambitions clear and simple. An order is only as good as its roots. It should never grow tall enough to lose sight of them. Find our purpose in this strange new world to come, Delphine, and find an anchor for yourself.

This is the last letter I shall ever write- you will forgive an old man’s rambles, I hope. Take courage, my child, and trust in yourself. You were born under the Lord– it will never be easy to take you down. I hope you know how proud I am of you– how proud your father was. Live, Della. That is all I ask.

Your uncle, and for the last time,

Grandmaster of the Blades,

Samuel Wirrich.

The words seemed to sear themselves into her memory even as she read them. She let the fire wash over her, refusing to lose her strained composure, but there was one line she couldn’t brush away.

“A traitor?” she couldn’t help blurting out. “No, we– we must have been careless somewhere, or one of their resistance movements must have had a spy. That is how they caught us in the trap. It’s not possible– Gaius, please,” she looked at him pleadingly, begging for him to contradict her uncle’s claim even as she realised he was right. “No one there could possibly have–”

He only looked at her pityingly, summoning more of her anxious passion.

“I am not being naive,” she insisted through gritted teeth. “I am not denying the possibility of a traitor, but I would swear on my life–”

“Don’t you think Indrata and the others did the same?” he interrupted bluntly. “Did you count the heads, Delphine? How many were missing? If it was just one, there we have it– although not every beheading would have left a pretty enough souvenir, I think.”

“How dare you?” she asked in a low voice, inches from breaking. Turning away, she took a few deep breaths, and brought herself back to the moment, using his words as an anchor. She knew what he meant by them; the same thing she had told the Emperor– it’s over. But in her case, the failure was not yet complete– the letter had more information in it that she needed to understand. She read through it again, as calmly and objectively as she could. The part about the siege reminded her of her own plans.

There was no time to be lost. She looked up at Gaius, drinking his wine with a pained look, and slammed her hands on the table.

“I have made some progress. I suspected that the Temple would be watched. And what’s more, I found out that the bastards are poisoning the food supplies you get from the city. They have no intention of giving you a fair fight. You will be weakened and plucked off for their amusement.”

He raised his eyebrows slowly, shrugging his shoulders. “And here I was thinking it was Rockjoint that was slowing me down. By the way, I did actually bring these jewels for you. He sent them with the letter.”

She ignored him, continuing, “I’ve made arrangements so that I will be the one driving that carriage. They won’t suspect me, and the man I dealt with won’t say a word. We can, we ought to–”

“I may not have read that letter, but I am pretty sure he commands you to stay away. There’s no point to it anymore, Delphine.”

His nonchalance spurred on her anger, and she dug into his hand with her nails. “He gave you the same command. Are you truly weak enough to follow it?”

“What difference will it make if there are two more bodies for the Thalmor to burn? You don’t have a plan– you’re a cornered animal, Delphine. Reason has left you. Go– get out of Bruma, get out of Cyrodiil. Keep our memory alive.”

“So forget this horror, let this… this spineless traitor get away, and keep my mouth shut. Follow your example of– what, exactly?” she sneered, her disgust no longer restrained. “Slinking away? Becoming a farmer in Morrowind? Drowning your sorrows in drink?”

“This is a pointless argument. The grandmaster ordered me to leave. I am free to do what I will, and if you truly object, I’m not too drunk for a duel.” He spread his arms wide, inviting her to challenge him.

“Fine. Go where you will. I hope your cowardice haunts you till your dying day. But I am going to be at the stables tomorrow at dawn, and ride to my family’s aid. Perhaps I will die, but if that means the grandmaster can take my place and live, I won’t regret it. As it is, if no one shows up tomorrow, that fool of a merchant will think he’s safe and tell the Thalmor everything, putting a target on my back.”

“So what? There’s a target on my back as well– these wounds didn’t satisfy them. Even if you show up, the merchant will tell them everything, just a bit later.”

“‘Later’ suits me. It gives me enough time to get there and make a stand.”

He stared at her for a moment, and let out a sad smile. “I can’t stop you, then. So, I wish you well. Let’s part friends, Delphine. Have one last drink, to old times– there is nothing more to be done.”

All of her rage could not mask the fact that there was a friend, perhaps the last friend she would see, sitting before her. She took up her glass stiffly, raised it with his, and downed the contents. They sat up for another hour, speaking of theories and memories– of everything but the frozen present.

Delphine opened her eyes with difficulty, shielding them from the sunlight streaking through the window. She slowly sat upright, and it was a moment or two before she realised that it was not, in fact, dawn.

She stood up in a panic, but felt a bout of dizziness, and clutching the table to steady herself, she looked around. She was alone, the door was secure, and there was a small note next to the grandmaster’s letter.

‘Later’ also gives you enough time to get out of Bruma. Forgive me for this and for reading your letter, but I needed it to strengthen my resolve, to overpower my doubts. I am wounded and hunted– I am the better choice. Do not let my death be in vain. Do not let the grandmaster down. Do not let the bastards win. Take the jewels and run.

Aghast, she collapsed to the floor, realising all too late that Gaius had drugged her wine with Sleeping tree sap. How, when, and why? But the questions meant nothing.

#skyrim #oblivion #tes #shadows of frostfall #tesblr #tes fic #my writing

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secretdragonstory · 1 year ago

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Secret Dragon - Chapter 2: Speak

I opened the book and skimmed through a few chapters, happy to finally see some true information, with substance. Although I had many books of my own, I had never brought any of them to class; I had no intention of being asked about them or pressing the issue.

By virtue of my existence, it and I would be scrutinized. I had neither the patience nor the desire for another microscope to be placed above me.

But Sasha had no such reservations even after I told him about the curriculum, although he relented and said he would figure out a way around that nonsense. It seemed as if he was determined to go against the grain.

We spoke deeply, about different subjects, our project, and his books. The more he talked the more at ease he became. I unknowingly got closer and closer to him as the time passed. I had to literally pull myself back a few times. I wondered if he noticed. It was confusing how I kept leaning into the heat coming off his breath.

We were both startled at the sound of chairs scraping. We looked around as our peers gathered their things.

“It seems that for the first time this class is actually worth my time. Usually I am the first to leave,” Sasha said, surprised.

“I know,” I revealed.

“Hmmm,” he vocalized deeply. I had no idea if it was “oh really” or “interesting” or any other answer. It was just a deep throat vibration. I just knew he would do that a lot. I could feel it.

As I was packing my things, I realized I was a little feverish. I put a hand to my cheek. Was it hot? Or was it that he was speaking heat in my direction? I couldn’t tell. I never ran hot.

He watched me touching my face and chuckled to himself, putting away his books. I really wanted to be annoyed—at anyone else I would have been—but his lighthearted laughter surprised me; so joyous after so many weeks of being a specter in the classroom.

I looked him in his eyes, though, and shook my head challengingly at him, as if to say “what?” That only made him laugh out loud. It was both quiet and bassy all at the same time. The kind of laugh that was bottomless, scratchy. The kind of laugh you could tell would boom and shake you if given the space.

I never thought I’d hear that coming from him, let alone directed at me. I refrained from expressing an iota of emotion beyond a small smile. I had to stay cool.

Pam walked over to our table swiftly, no doubt looking to be rid of Jonah. She smiled at Sasha, grinned really.

“So. We finally meet! Pam Swiftwater,” she chirped. Her hand shot out as fast as she walked. Sasha halted his movement. He extended his hand more slowly, gently, engulfing her delicate hands in his large ones.

“Of course. I am Sasha Emberscale,” Sasha said, pulling his hand back to pat his chest.

Pam gave me a knowing glance of drama. “Oh I know who you are,” she said.

“Likewise; you are in my open physical hour,” he reminded her. “You are on the track team.”

“That’s right! It’s nice to finally, officially, meet you.”

Sasha raised his brow at her.

“My friend has spoken of you,” he said offhand.

“What friend?” Pam asked, taken aback.

“Seth Fairbreeze, dragon of the wind.”

“Oh?” Pam said, her interest piqued. I didn’t know whether she knew who that was. But it intrigued both of us nonetheless.

“I will introduce you, of course, now that we are properly acquainted.”

“I can’t wait.” I knew she couldn’t.

Pam glanced back at her table and groaned. “Let’s get out of here. If I have to talk to Jonah any longer, I swear Imma strangle him.”

Sasha laughed heartily. “Very well. Let us depart this place to avoid attempted murder,” he joked.

“Why don’t you stick with us? We’re in the same course after this,” I suggested, gathering my items. I didn’t even hesitate asking him that. I’d done enough hesitating.

Sasha’s laugh tapered off into a quiet chuckle. “Of course. I would desire nothing more.”

I couldn’t hide my elation this time. Pam snickered at me. Thankfully he didn’t notice. I assumed.

Sasha draped his jacket across his arm, opting not to put it back on. Admittedly I enjoyed the view. He gestured for us to exit the class before him.

Every once in a while he would look down at me as we walked through the halls. I noticed his eyes following me.

I would sneak a glance at him when he wasn’t looking. It was apparent just how large he was now that I was walking right next to him. He was one of the only people in school taller than me. His shoulders were broad, arms thick. I know I was staring at the way they flexed as he moved. Couldn’t help but to.

Everything in me wanted to take that arm of his for my own. The thought of it being mine just felt so natural. I had to check myself a few times walking beside him.

It would be mine in time. That I promised myself.

—

We entered our Dragontongue class where I took a seat on his right at a table. Pam sat at mine.

Class with Sasha was much more interesting than ever before. He spoke freely and pleasantly, a stark contrast to the silent dragon he had been before I sat at his table in Dragonology. It was like something that had weighed on him had vanished.

I wasn’t unaware that he was happier since we had talked. I was pleased that it was me that had pulled him out of whatever darkness was holding him.

Again a pang of irritation ran through me. Why had I not introduced myself before? Just hearing the depth of his voice and the eloquence of his speech had me feeling some type of way. I could have been hearing that in my ears for weeks, those words of his carried on desert sands.

As class droned on, I saw that Sasha was appraising the professor with a raised brow as if too polite to allow complete disdain across his face.

He began to tell us about different Dragontongue dialects quietly, I suppose to keep himself occupied or distracted. I had to lean all the way in to hear his voice. It reverberated in my ears.

“If you were to say that word in the southern regions of Lyfax, it would mean to place bricks or stones atop each other as if building something. If you said that in the northeastern region, it means much the same, but doubles as a slang word meaning to fu— I am sorry, to have relations with someone.”

Pam squealed and covered her mouth. I covered mine too. I had wanted to hear the word ‘fuck’ come out of his polite mouth.

“Are you serious?” I asked instead.

“Yes, I am,” he said, brow raised. “Take care in who you say it to and in what context.”

Sasha tapped another paragraph “This term here. If you were to say it in the Northernmost tip of the country, it is basically calling someone a piece of filth in the wrong context, while just a few regions down it simply means to clean something without any further colloquial use. Their origins most likely started off with the same meaning and deviated as the people left and settled elsewhere. Knowing different dialects of Dragontongue in Lyfax is important. Linguistics interests me, as you can probably surmise.”

“Do you speak a lot of languages?” Pam asked.

“I occasionally travel for my work and interact with different dignitaries. I must know many languages and dialects at least at a rudimentary level.”

“Oh wow…” I said, truly impressed. Now that I had listened to his voice, I couldn’t place his accent. Unless deep was one. It wasn’t as if I was familiar with Lyfaxians’ manner of speech or various accents anyway. “What do you speak?” I asked

“Hmmmm. Common Lyfaxian. Common Lizardtongue. Dragontongue, of course; several dialects: fire, moon and wind. Many people know these. Shelltongue. Salamandra…one other.”

“Goodness,” I said in awe. I stashed away that “one other.” I’d ask about it later. I couldn’t imagine why it would be a secret. Hypocritically.

“My speech is not perfect in Shelltongue or Salamandra yet. But I can hold a conversation. I would enjoy learning and speaking your dialect of Dragontongue, as you mentioned earlier,” he remarked to me. Of course, Pam regarded me in shock. She gave me a chiding look, rightfully so.

Sasha didn’t miss her reaction. “If it is trouble, do not worry about it,” he said, frowning.

“No, It’s okay,” I reassured him. “I don’t mind.”

He was still uncertain, looking at Pam’s concerned face. “If I am to converse with a new group of dragons, I would prefer to know their dialect,” he whispered. “But not if it is cause for alarm. For some reason.”

Pam sighed in relief upon hearing him refer to me as a dragon. “Oh okay.”

“It’s fine. Complicated. I’ll tell you later,” I said, waving it all away. Sasha nodded.

“So did you all decide on a topic for your assignment?” Pam asked.

“Of course. We spoke much of it. I look forward to working with Leila.” Sasha said. I liked the way he said my name, the way he swung the vowels upward to where they needed to go. As it should be. “It will be interesting,” he said.

Pam glanced over to me. “How so?”

I looked amused, I’m sure. “Let’s say our Dragonology topic is about to be spicy,” I hinted.

“Sasha you’re a horrible influence already,” she accused, raising her brows at him.

“Of course,” he confirmed, chuckling deeply. “One needs a little corruption in the right direction, every once in a while.”

“Corruption? Oh really?” I said, regarding him in what I intended to be mock surprise. But I was genuinely shocked that he said it. He hadn’t corrupted me yet. He could try, but only when I was through with him.

Sasha chuckled silently. Just a trembling of the shoulders. A soft billow of scalding heat wafting across my face. Mmm, maybe sooner then.

Pam’s eyes widened, but she was beyond amused. If she could manifest a snack to observe our rapidly forming dynamic, she would have in a heartbeat.

She sat back, twirling her pencil. I knew she was about to start something. The twitch in the corner of her mouth was working. She was about to instigate her heart out. I groaned quietly.

“You know, Leila speaks all the same languages you do. She’s fluent in Shelltongue even; one of her best friends is Turtlefolk. She works at a place where a lot of people from different places come through. She took it upon herself to learn their languages.”

I groaned more.

“Is that so?” Sasha inquired, angling his body toward me. He sounded impressed.

I just rubbed my brows. I did not advertise my language skills. He looked at me with interest. “That is admirable. Why do you not wish to speak of it?” he asked.

“I don’t like puffing myself up. Drawing attention. Not that you are doing that,” I clarified.

Sasha smiled. “I know what you meant,” he said, speaking Shelltongue. I grinned. “I have been somewhat successful at not drawing attention—past my appearance at least—for a few weeks now.”

“Except your grades of course,” I pointed out in Shelltongue as well. “Literally perfect grades except two, and that’s only because of inaccuracies.”

Sasha raised his brow. “Ah, right, you have been keeping tabs on my marks. Very well; I have been under the radar except for my marks.”

“See? Y’all can speak tongues to each other in every flavor,” Pam said casually.

My mouth dropped. To say my eyes widened would be an understand. I shielded the side of my face.

Sasha choked and laughed quietly, holding his chest.

Never had she been that brazen. And she had said some crazy ass things for as long as I’d know her.

She looked so proud of herself.

“Pam, you are trying to start something, are you not?” Sasha guessed—back in Lizardtongue—looking away in laughter.

“Of course not. I don’t know what you mean,” she said, smirking.

I rubbed my face. “What were we even talking about?”

Sasha spoke as quietly as he could. “Different languages. Dialects. Things of that nature. Tongues, apparently,” he said, leaning toward me.

Really Sasha? I thought. He was something else.

He leaned back again and looked ahead, his smile dimming. “Also, things your professor apparently will not teach,” he said, the scales of his brows beginning to furrow.

“Yeah. It’s frustrating,” I agreed, uncovering my face.

“This class is testing my endurance. To hear my language butchered and be told that the proper way is incorrect is vexing.”

Pam stared at the professor, then at Sasha. “I’m sorry. This class is far beneath how you—and we—speak.”Pam and the rest of the Swiftwater Clan spoke to my family in the True way, the way of Sun Dragons.

Sasha leaned back. “And yet I have no choice but to be here,” he remarked. “And, apparently, neither do you both.”

It was a painful requirement, but a mandatory one. I nodded.

Pam turned back to the front of class. “You must be bored here at this university,” she said.

Sasha rubbed his chin. “Hmmmm,” he rumbled deeply. The vibration of that inquisitive hum made my shoulders tingle. I had to close my eyes and put a hand to my chest to halt my heart’s pounding.

“I was, yes,” he said slowly, “but yesterday was my last day of boredom. Today, the season has changed.” He glanced at me as he said it.

My mouth twitched into a smile. I found his choice of words particularly appealing. Pam looked curiously at him, but said nothing.

Sasha angled his body back toward me. I don’t know if I imagined it, but it felt like his whole existence was radiating heat now. It sent rush through my body.

“Let us return to our ‘lesson’ and pretend to care,” he suggested.

“Sasha,” I laughed, nudging his arm. It was hot to the touch. I was not imagining it.

“What?” he said innocently.

I shook my head at him, incredulous. I had no idea he was so funny. Who would have thought that sullen dragon was full of humor. He relented.

“I will behave myself,” he lied through his fanged teeth, patting his chest.

“Doubtful,” I returned, amused. It was easy to talk to him. Like we were old friends. Sasha was right: Pam had started something.

—

Sasha continued pointing out more language dialect rules and vocabulary from Lyfax. Things we couldn’t have learned on our own.

There were so many regions to learn about. I listened intently as he described them, and asked questions about everything. It was as if he was taking me on a mental tour of those far away places…

Before that day we hadn’t said a word to each other. Hadn’t shaken hands or anything. Whenever we had met eyes, we would quickly look away. I didn’t understand why we had done that. Now here we were hunched over a text book with our heads damn near touching. The heat of his breath warmed my face. It was hotter than earlier that day. Much hotter.

And still I kept on gravitating closer. Because of how he had angled his body toward me, my left arm eventually pressed against his right.

My breathing stuttered, being in such close proximity to him. And I knew he felt it. He had to have felt it. Because I felt him tremble.

And there it was again! That strange rumble emanating from him, from his throat, I could now tell. Now that I was touching him, it was amplified, coursing through me. I tried to pinpoint its essence. It was very much like a growl, the crackling of a fire. And a hum; it reminded me of the way he responded to things without words. Hmmm.

All of it together was a magnetic song. I couldn’t help but listen. Let it lull me into a dream.

I wandered from the lesson for a moment to imagine what it would be like to just feel all of it pressed up against my chest. To embrace him and the heat he radiated.

I wanted to feel his fire whipping around me, not just the heat off him. To embrace a cascade of his flames. washing over me, engulfing me fully.

What would kissing Sasha be like? By the Goddess, the thought of drinking his fire until the persistent ice inside me melted was too tantalizing. If only I could just taste his breath inside my mouth… I wanted to look into his throat where I knew a flickering flame lie in wait. To explore it. Mmm.

It was like some deep ancestral memory was awakening. My breathing grew heavier. I swear to the goddess I heard his breath do the same. Except his breathing was punctuated by the rumbling crackle right under it. I knew he was in the same place I was.

I had to close my eyes and turn my head away from the heat coming off the words from his mouth. Because if I didn’t I would do something about it in that classroom—

“Leila?”

I emerged from my other world, his voice having shaken me from my daydream. I looked back to him.

“Class is over,” he rumbled into my ear quietly, the hotness washing over my neck and face. I rubbed those intense thoughts from my brows but they lingered everywhere else. I inhaled deeply and set about gathering my stuff. My hands shook.

Something hot brushed down my arm as he got up to gather his things. I looked down to see his claw drifting away from it. I thought it was an accident until he glanced at me. He smiled faintly though his brows were intense.

“Let us go,” he said gently, nodding toward the door.

“Okay,” I said, my eyebrow raising in interest. I slipped my bag over my shoulder. When he turned toward the door, I touched the trail of burning scales where he’d run his finger. When I say I could not breathe… I covered my mouth, then just rubbed my face with both hands. I didn’t know what to do. Mercy.

Looking around, my peers were also preparing to leave, so I composed myself the best I could and followed Sasha through the doorway.

#reddit secret dragon #secret dragon story #secretdragon #secret dragon #leila and Sasha

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nghtshroud · 1 year ago

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The first time was nearly expected. Danny had spent far too long watching people, learning how to become a shadow in their safest spaces, to think that Kurt would be no different. People only ever saw the annoyances in the noise, never how they might one day save their lives, or those that they cared about. He’d read somewhere that the Japanese in the 17th century had intentionally designed buildings with noisemakers installed to keep out unwanted visitors.

Each and every small thing that could have given away Kurt was pointed out as they happened, and as the attempts racked up, his voice grew more monotonous in response. If Kurt couldn’t go through even the most simple of a simulated routine, one that was nearly the same every single time, in a closed off environment? How could they hope for him to do it where the variables mean life or death, or life long imprisonment? He is starting to lose hope. Maybe he tried too soon, should have practiced with something a little less extreme. No, he doesn’t want to baby Kurt. It isn’t the point to make him successful, he won’t be around to hold the guy’s hand when he is actually sticking a knife into some poor idiot’s rib cage.

Time moves relatively quickly, and he takes the moments to really give the place a good look. The last time he had been inside was with laser precision intention, looking for weaknesses both against and for him. Now he was there with nothing more than leisure, taking in the effects of a well lived-in home. He eyes pictures, knick-knacks, dog toys, anything that might be laying around. A person’s house told a story and he was truly a writer at heart, even if he had to make the stories by hand.

When he ends up in the bedroom again, on schedule, he is keenly listening for anything that might determine whether or not Kurt is going to try and strike. After a moment of doing nothing and sighing out through his nose, Danny eyes the closest door. He’d been through most of the house, curiosity not a thing that escaped him in the slightest, but left Kurt’s room relatively untouched. It felt like crossing a barrier to be in a place so personal to someone he might very well be getting to know better, but he is ultimately far more bored than anticipated. Reaching out to try and pull open the door, a soft hmph leaves Danny when it doesn't budge much further than the slightest opening. He’ll have to ask Kurt-

Kurt. He’d gotten distracted and wasn’t listening, wasn’t prepared. Out of the corner of his eye he can barely understand the motion of a dark figure coming towards him and he almost snarls in retaliation when his back collides with the wall, a hot flash of fury in his eyes. It sizzles out when Kurt pauses, and is swiftly replaced with a sharp laugh.

“Well, shit! You got me,” he laughs again though this time out of disbelief. “What’s the point in a closet if you can’t get into it?”

He redirects the moment briefly, gesturing towards it.

“You did fantastic, for a practice run,” he replies while straightening out his clothing. “Maybe you’ve really got it in you to get this done. The real Michael won’t be so simple. People don’t always repeat themselves, there is variance, circumstances change. You’ll have to figure out how to adapt if the need arises. You need more than one way to kill your mark if something goes wrong. Backups, contingencies. I’ll be around to help if something happens, but there is no guarantee I can actually do anything.”

He is grinning, a full smile for the anticipation of a kill that would not even be his own. It was hard not to feel his heart flutter at the idea; it will be a one of a kind story, no matter how he spins it, even if the readers had no clue. Moving forward and patting Kurt on the shoulder, he is making his way out of the bedroom. He pauses just a step out of the room and half turns around to face Kurt again, still the hints of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“My name is Danny, but when we are around people, you’ll still be calling me Michael. Some cosmic bullshit irony in that your target has the same name as the alias I have been using here.”

Kurt balked at Danny's minor irritation and admonishment, looking akin to a dog scolded. The expression doesn't last, however, the embarrassment at his mistake quickly fading into determination to correct the error. Especially now that Ghost Face had given him a time limit, two hours to learn the basics of home invasion and murder. Kurt gives Danny nothing more than a nod before he takes up his own role, acting out that of a violent criminal itching to sink his knife in just the right places. Michael, this Michael was alone, but his Michael had a family in the house. He'd have to content with that when he finally infiltrated the home, especially due to the fact any noise could rouse someone from their sleep, even something as minor as a creak on the floorboards, a too-loud breath. Stabbing through the throat, severing vocal cord, keeping them silent with their own blood. Stabbing through the skull and directly into the brain is an option, though it wouldn't be quick enough to keep them quiet. Too many variables could give them enough time to react to the pain. That is, of course, if he even wanted to kill them silently, though... waking up next to a dead body, killed in their sleep, the blood still pooling into your shared mattress?

Kurt exhaled, he needed to focus. Plans for the future when Ghost Face saw how useful he could be. Kurt watches the routine the other had chosen, his eyes following along the path and designating each room, each action, to memory. The last room would be Kurt's own room and, for a moment, Kurt wondered if this was his own routine Ghost Face had picked up on or just one made from the many he'd seen over the years. Regardless, Kurt knew he needed to be on the move. He took a few precious moments to hesitate, just to get his breath under control, keep his body from tensing. He could do this. He had to do this.

Easier said than done, of course, given his first attempt ended rather swiftly with Kurt stepping on old floorboard and causing it to creak in alarm. He swore to himself under his breath and restarted, a brief flash of anger at himself before he returned back to his task. It wasn't easy, he realized, even in his own home. He'd walked through it for over a decade and he knew where the floors were weakest, what windows were loosest, what the doors sounded like as they opened and closed, but he never gave them much though before. Just mundane signs of an old house. Now these are alarms, sirens, warning of impending death.

It was, thankfully, obvious he was getting better as the hour ticked by. Further and further into the house, uncaught, though Kurt was entirely aware that time was running out. A clock in the living room alerted him that an hour and a half had passed. He'd only get one, two more attempts before he was considered a lost cause. That thought alone scared him, rocked his body with unneeded anxiety. His hands balled into fists, knuckles turning white, before he unflexed his hand. He had to do this, now or never.

Ghost Face's routine played in his head and Kurt played the part, sneaking in through the house and taking care to avoid the various creaky floorboards, groaning doors, and other noisemakers that would ruin his last attempt.

His hand is on his door handle and he's only thankful his door was a more recent addition to the house. It didn't creak like some others and it was easy for him to slowly peer inside -

His heart sank, body froze. He figured Ghost Face must've gotten bored sitting around in his room or, maybe, just had his interest piqued by the unopened door he'd been staring at since they started this whole stupid thing. His hand was on the handle of his closet and Kurt was, for once, thankful the thing was stuck with marbles and wouldn't slide open easily. Ghost Face's attempts are brought to a halt, only a small gap appeared between door and door frame. Too much. It's as if he was possessed, adrenaline in his system forcing him to launch from the door and tear Ghost Face away from his closet, practically forcing him to an opposite wall with a arm over his chest, his eyes wide and his breath quick, panicked.

It took Kurt a handful of seconds before the reality seemed to knock into him, tensing for a second before he takes a few steps back, his arms plastered to his side. He wasn't... sure how he was supposed to get Ghost Face, but he figured slamming him against a wall wasn't really in his plans.

" Got you, " Kurt ventures, keeping his gaze on Ghost Face, even if he was desperate to close that closet once again.

" How... how was that? Good? "

#(ME AND MY DOG) IC / AU #creatureshrieks #SLING SHOTS THIS BACK AT YOU

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64bitgamer · 2 years ago

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coochiequeens · 2 years ago

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A trans teacher who let his classroom be a safe space for the TQ+ type let students literally hump each other in class. And for being the “cool” teacher the students called him “Mom”.

A trans-identified male high school teacher in Anne Arundel County, Maryland has been placed on indefinite leave after troubling information surfaced regarding his conduct with students.

Willa Hoard, also known as “Billie” was a social studies teacher at Chesapeake High School and ran the school’s GSA (Gay-Straight Alliance) Organization. On October 3, he was placed on indefinite leave by the school, with few details provided to parents at the time.

But on November 2, disturbing video footage began circulating on Twitter from inside Hoard’s classroom. The videos originated on Facebook, first posted by a concerned mother.

In one video, two students are seen laying on the ground together, with one grinding on or humping the other in the middle of a class lecture. Another clip shows one student sucking at the stomach of another student. Both clips took place while Hoard was present in the room, apparently unconcerned by the behavior.

Hoard’s classroom was labelled a “safe space” for “LGBTQ+ students” by the school at the direction of the GSA. So whether a student was in class or not, if they reported to a teacher that they needed a “safe space,” they could go to Hoard’s classroom.

But the sexual behavior Hoard allowed in his class was just one of many disturbing components of the story. Hoard had apparently been communicating with students through unmonitored channels, in flagrant violation of safeguarding ethics. In some screenshots, students are seen referring to Hoard as “mom” or “mother.”

At least one concerned parent had taken snaps of Discord and Instagram conversations she found of Hoard having with students to school Principal J. Yore earlier this year, but nothing was reportedly done until the disturbing videos first began to circulate on Facebook.

On October 3, parents and guardians received a letterfrom Principal Yore who announced that Hoard would be “away from [the] building indefinitely.”

The letter failed to address the videos showing what had occurred during Hoard’s GSA meeting. While it stated a substitute who will provide “high-quality instruction and support” will be introduced, the letter did not contain any plan to guarantee student safeguarding, nor did it provide any indication of wrongdoing.

The news of Hoard’s extracurricular communication with students, as well as his leave, was first reported on by independent Maryland journalist Brian Griffiths on October 3.

According to Griffiths, Hoard had only begun transitioning earlier this year, and had previously gone under the name William Edward Hoard.

In a February Medium Post, Hoard wrote: “So it turns out I’m a woman. Surprise! I guess, to be more specific, I am a woman of the transgender variety. Which is to say that I am a woman who was mistaken for a little boy at birth, whose family and society ran with that since my body matched the expectations they had, first for a boy and later for a man, who only fully realized my own womanhood a few years ago and who is just now telling the world that-well intentioned as I am sure it was-we were all wrong about my gender.”

Griffiths also reported that a mother at the school who had clashed with Hoard over safeguarding concerns had been subjected to an attempted peace order as a result of her critiques.

Kristy Rush began publicly criticizing the school’s GSA after seeing posts threatening disciplinary repercussions for “deadnaming” and “misgendering” students or staff. According to Rush, the school had deemed “dead naming” a form of “sexual harassment,” and parents who confronted administration about the policy were told that disciplinary action for the listed offenses was discussed with the GSA and determined on a “case-by-case” basis.

As her daughter was a GSA member, Rush then went through her phone and computer out of concern.

She then found that Hoard had been communicating with his students on unofficial apps like Discord, Instagram, and Facebook. Rush withdrew her daughter from the school, reporting that after she joined the club “her behavior began to change.” Rush has also posted several statements regarding Hoard and the GSA on her Facebook, including videos of activity which allegedly occurred in Hoard’s classroom.

In one video Rush posed to her Facebook, a student wearing a banana costume and fishnets is seen dancing. The student’s underwear are clearly visible when she turns around. Rush also posted a video of students “humping” in a classroom during a GSA meeting. Both are the videos now circulating on Twitter.

It was after her vocal criticisms that Hoard then reportedly filed the peace order against Rush. The order was recently dismissed, but Rush has said that local LGBT activists labelled her and other parents who were concerned about Hoard “transphobic” at school board meetings.

According to Libs of TikTok, prior to being put on indefinite leave, Hoard had also encouraged student members of the GSA to call the police to conduct wellness checks on Rush’s daughter, Lulu.

Police reported to Rush’s homes on two separate instances as they had received calls that Lulu was suicidal and attempted to harm herself when she was merely sleeping.

Although Hoard is not allowed on school grounds, there has been speculation that students have maintained contact with him through private channels.

He remains active on TikTok and has apparently encouraged graduating students to message him directly on Instagram.

By Yuliah Alma Yuliah is a junior researcher and journalist at Reduxx. She is a passionate advocate for women's rights and child safeguarding. Yuliah lives on the American east coast, and is an avid reader and book collector.

#Maryland #Anne Arundel County #Chesapeake High School #Willa Hoard #also known as “Billie”#Principal J. Yore Didn’t do shit until things became public on facebook #Willa was William Edward Hoard until last year #Activists harassing concerned parents by calling the police for wellness checks #But TRAs are usually anti-police #But TRAs are ok with using the police to harass critics

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kimtaesss · 2 years ago

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Title: A hidden bet

Summary: it was the first year of college, the first day you bump into that stranger. That stranger ends up holding your heart and lies with him for a couple of years.

Pairings: Jungkook x reader; Mentions of Taehyung x reader

Genre: strangers to lovers; classmates to lovers; angst; fluff

Warnings: supportive mother (maybe way too much 🤷‍♀️); yoongi being a horrible but typical cousin; oc making a fool of herself 😭; there might be some cringy conversations (it could just me cringing at my own work though); I believe that’s all!

masterlist | 01 | tba

“I can take you to school and then bring you back home!”

“Oh no! It’s fine mom, I'll be okay on my own!”

Your mother did not accept that response. Instead, she leaned closer to you, making it possible for you to practically taste what she had for breakfast. It was not something you wanted to deal with this early.

You were grateful for all the support and love your mother has been giving you lately, especially since it was the first day of your first year in college. But you felt like you needed to take this step on your own or at-least not with your mother.

“Don’t be silly! Come on, let’s go” She grabbed the car keys, and looked around for her purse. She was determined to do it her way, her smile widened, and it made it impossible for you to contradict her.

She studied your face, the way your lips formed into a pout. Which led her to know what was going to come out of your mouth, or at least knowing it was bad news. You had this habit when it came to you speaking from your heart, you always pouted, whether that be intentional or not, it’s just the way your face reacted when you were honest but afraid to be.

You kept glancing around the room, afraid of sharing, and wording things poorly.

“Yeah.. let’s go ahead and do that”

You completely backed down, you are and always will be a coward. How were you supposed to survive college, when you couldn’t even be honest and open with your own mother? It’s not like she’s going to hate you for sharing your feelings and concerns, and you know that very well. It’s just that you were afraid of letting people down, so instead you push your own dreams and hopes, because you’d rather let yourself down a billion times, then let anyone else down once.

Your mother walks towards you, with smaller steps. She places the car keys, and her purse down on the counter in front of you, and embraces you with the biggest hug she could give you. You were evidently bewildered, and once you felt something wet on your shoulder, and your mother frantically shaking, you were even more confused and to be quite honest, scared.

“What’s wrong mom?!” You ask, while your voice quivers. You constantly pat her back, and remain frozen. You kept biting your lips, afraid of saying the making any noise, or worse, cry with her.

“You’re all grown up! My baby’s grown up” she babbles on, while you continue to pat her back, and occasionally slide your hands up and down, hoping to soothe her.

“Mom-“

Before you could finish your sentence, your cousin interfered and you had never been relieved. You couldn’t even contain the huge sigh that came out of your mouth once he spoke.

“What the fuck is going on?”

Your mother detaches herself from you, and moves her hair out of way. Her cries left her looking like a mess, she had snot running out of her nose every passing second, despite her attempts of cleaning it off with her fingers. Her mascara was also running down her face, and she honestly looked like she showered with makeup on. It wasn’t her best look that’s for sure.

“Language!” Your mother emphasized, as she pulled his ear.

“Ow! That shit hurts!”

You roll your eyes at the scene in front of you. This was not exactly how you pictured your day going, especially before you had your classes.

“Yoongi, just behave already” you scolded.

You picked up the car keys your mother had placed on the counter, and pushed the chair backwards to give you enough space to ditch this mess and house in general.

“Whatever’s. Let’s go already, you’re so slow!” He whines, as he drags his feet.

“You’re so fucking annoying” you attempted to whisper.

“Language!” Your mother exclaimed. Her arms were crossed one over another, and her feet kept tapping against the floor. It was the same posture that rushed you out of that door, knowing she was giving you both a warning before you got your ass beat.

“Love you!” You blurted, as Yoongi grabbed your hand, and dragged you out of that house.

“I’m not getting my ears pulled again” he said while continuing to push you out of that house, and into that car.

You laughed in response to his dramatics. You knew in that instant that your first day wasn’t going to be so bad. After all, you had a dramatic and lovable person right beside you.

“Don’t forget your seat belt!” You cheerfully say.

And with that you drove off forgetting all those negative thoughts that have been on your mind the whole week.

So it turns out the company you depended on, had just left you alone in a hall full of strangers.

“Fuck my life” you said under your breathe, as you examined for anything that helped you locate your class.

“231.. no.” You squint your eyes, as you use your finger to point at the class number. “257… no. Where the hell is 405?”

You started to feel anxious. Constantly checking your phone for the time, hoping that time will stay still. You could not arrive to your class late, it’s the most embarrassing thing ever. You could just feel your sweat all over your body, especially in your armpit area. It’s gross, you immediately want to use the pamphlet that was given to you, to dry it off. But you also don’t want to grab too much attention so instead you kept cluelessly walking.

Maybe you should just skip the class? Or even, just drop out of college altogether. Okay now you were totally freaking out. You grab onto your shirt, and pull it forwards. You kept flapping it to create some air, something that doesn’t make you this hot and red.

“Okay! just breathe” you walk in a circle, as you keep inhaling and exhaling.

Your vision is blurred. You can’t see things as clearly as before, and it’s leading you to feel this heaviness in your chest and head. You had made a complete fool of yourself on the first day. Maybe you just weren’t meant to be something important. Maybe you should just give up.

You kept calling Yoongi, in hopes that he could give you exceptionally clear directions. But every time you tried calling him it would take you directly to voicemail. This was about to be your last straw. There must be this dark cloud following you around. You were in constant trouble and self doubt, but then again you were alone. There was no one beside you, reassuring you that everything is or will be okay. It sounds childish and dumb, but you needed an immense amount of support, and not having it left you looking, well like this.

“I’m so sorry!” you hear as your body rapidly hits the ground.

You take a deep breath, and move your hair out of the way. You don’t even want to look up, and see who was in front of you afraid of it leading you to more trouble.

A hand reaches down to your level, and you have no other choice but to accept it. Imagine falling down in front of a bunch of strangers, and choosing to stay on the ground. It was humiliating, your body shivered just thinking of all the whispers and things people were saying behind your back.

“Thanks” you mumble, as you wipe yourself off, despite there not being anything on your shirt or pants.

“I’m such an idiot. I really shouldn’t be running in the halls, I am just so sorry” he bites on his lips, while he holds a worried expression.

“Well you really shouldn’t. I definitely feel like a concussion is coming soon, I might have to sue you”

“Wait, really? I’m just a college student, so you won’t be getting much of me anyway”

You both hold a stare and eventually break the contact, making you both jointly laugh.

“Jungkook” he announces while stretching his hand towards you, and revealing this bright and mellow smile.

It was a bit mortifying to admit this but you felt like a teenager, you suddenly realized that there was an attractive man in front of you, who also happens to share the same humor as you. You just knew you were about to either do something that makes you want to drown, or worse drive him away. You felt the sweat from earlier coming back, your cheeks were beyond any doubt red. You probably looked like you had finished running a marathon.

“Get it together y/n” you utter, thinking that he wouldn’t hear you, but of course, luck has not been your friend today.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you y/n”

Here he goes again with that warm smile. It was just so perfect, that you couldn’t even feel embarrassed. Sure, he overheard you and he most likely has an idea of why you are acting like a kid but still you were somewhat fine with that.

“Um.. it’s nice to meet you too!”

You both stay silent, but still continue staring at each other. It sounds strange, and you know it but it felt like fate put you both together. You were feeling alone and now you had someone with you.

“Are you–”

“Actually–”

You both say at the same time. It’s a comedy show between you two. You kept chuckling throughout your whole conversation.

“You can go first,” he comments.

“Oh okay. Well I was just wondering if you knew where room 405 was located? I’m already–” You looked at your watch for the time, and once you see the time, you can’t help but panic. You were running late! This can’t keep happening to you.

“Late?” he finishes the sentence for you, because he’s just that perfect and smart, and you were probably given him more credit than he deserves but you were starstrucked.

You simply nod your head, as you convert to a panic state.

“Don’t worry, come on, i’ll lead the way”

Okay so maybe you were being dramatic the whole time. Maybe you don’t have this dark cloud over you, destroying every little good thing and turning it into something bad.

“You’re a lifesaver!”

And with that you walk alongside him hoping that he asks for your number or frankly anything that confirms he wants to keep seeing you.

Your hands kept accidentally touching eachother, it was probably due to your close proximity. You kept giggling to whatever had come out of his mouth. Probably making a fool out of yourself, again. But it just felt nice to talk someone that wasn’t your cousin or mom. You sound like a complete loser, but its true.

“I really think you’ll like it here” he comments.

Oh, he has no idea how much you like it here already.

“Well here it is” he points at the door that is preventing you from staying longer with him.

You know you could make the first move but you were literally having a panic attack not so long ago, and you’re clearly a mess and not even in his level, so maybe it’s not a good idea to tell yourself that there is something going on when there clearly isn’t.

“I guess it’s a good thing you ran into me” you scratch behind your neck. “Uh- because you know, I would be lost without you” you slightly tilt your head, and look away, while your eyes were alarming wide. You just kept making things worse.

He tried to hold back his smile, but it was evidently clear what his mouth was trying to do.

“I’m glad I could help you out”

You waved him goodbye, and kept stumbling on your way to your door.

“Need help?” he questioned.

“No! I’m okay!” you immediately replied.

“I just want to make sure you don’t get lost”

You turn around, offended, that he threw that back to your face. Maybe not offended, but it you felt awkward. He made you realize why it’s important to think before you speak.

“My bad!” he puts his hands up before you say anything to him.

You wanted to slightly push him or hit him as a joke, but you were a stranger, sadly. So you are stuck rolling your eyes, and going back to walking inside your classroom.

“What time does your class end?” he screams, while your body was half way in.

“3:30, why?”

“I’ll see you after then?”

He’s so ugh! Yes a billion times yes! You wanted to not walk in that classroom and go with him right now, afraid that he won’t be waiting for you outside the door once you're done with your class. But you can’t look desperate, at least not more than you already have.

“Yeah! I’ll see you after”

He waved you goodbye, and you awkwardly sent one back. You had made yourself look like a fool all day, and now your first impression with your professor and classmates is most likely not the best.

You quietly walk towards the back of the room, and sit down. You place your bag on the floor, after taking out your notebook and pen. You stared ahead, and hoped that you were not too behind the lecture.

Horribly enough, you did end up missing the lecture because you kept thinking of Jungkook, and what he had up his sleeve. You just kept wishing and praying that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself again.

Maybe he’ll ask you on a date? Or what if he just wants to be a friend? Ugh, you just couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing.

“Uh-- You.” You snap out of your trance. You pay attention to your surroundings, moving your head left and right. You notice a couple of people staring at you, and at first you didn’t think much about it but then you noticed your professor looking at you. This is just great, you weren’t even paying attention.

“yes?” you timidly reply.

“How do you motivate patients?”

“I- Uh- You know” you stammer. “You just do?” You shrug while responding. Except you answered with a question rather than an answer.

This was most definely not your day. The whole class laughed at you, and you immediately place your head low and bite your nails.

“Yes... that’s the goal. Anyways, let’s open up our books to page 12″

You needed to stop fucking this up for yourself.

Therefore after your little incident, you kept writing down every single thing that he mentioned, or wrote on the whiteboard. You felt like your whole arm was about to fall off, it was becoming harder and harder to continue writing the speed as you were before.

“I’m ending class early, but make sure to go over the pages and notes everyone!” You didn’t hear the rest, you just heard, you’re leaving early. If Jungkook was passing by, you would actually be able to notice him and that made you feel more relieved.

You put your things away, and pick up your bag. You wait until everyone in the front leaves, and then walk out of the classroom. Placing your hand on the door, you push it forwards, and accidentally hit someone in the process. You were really debating if you should just jump out a window, at this point.

“I’m so fucking sorry” you blurted out loud.

You were confused when you heard someone laugh instead of cursing you out. Clearly you were not expecting that reaction but who were you to judge someone, when you’ve made a complete fool of yourself.

“Guess it’s your turn to run into me?”

You had got to be kidding me! It had to be fate, there was no other way to explain why you both kept running into eachother.

“I guess it is” You grin from ear to ear. There’s a spark in your eyes, and you knew it, he knew it.

But he mimicked the exact smile and spark you had. It made you wonder alot of things, but at least one thing was clear, you were not going to behave like a moron anymore. Hopefully.

Taglist: @mwitsmejk @bambamsthings @belovedsthings @chimchimmarie @nadzzzblog @dreamer95 @bjoriis @j3oooonsnsns @xxxavee16 @dodoneck @ikonsiconic @bloodline1632 @hollyweird0 @moonchilddna @ellesalazar @bunbunbunnykoo

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edenfenixblogs · 10 months ago

Text

I’m not Palestinian, so I can’t speak to the truth of whether or not Palestinians experience overwhelming and continuous hatred from Jews or Israelis.

I can say that in the real life or online spaces—Jewish and secular—in which I engage, I have seen it happen. Albeit, far less frequently than I have seen antisemitism. And that when I have seen it, I have called it out and exhibited less tolerance for it than I have exhibited for antisemitism.

Antisemitism is systemic and I’m in a good position to educate about it. I’m not Palestinian, and it’s not my job to speak on behalf of Palestinians about their own oppression. I will simply not tolerate it in my presence.

I want to be clear that I am Reblogging this post because it is an accurate reflection of the antisemitism I experience. But if Palestinian folks want to take issue with the way the hatred they experience online is characterized here, that is fair and valid. I don’t like when pro-Palestinian activists make sweeping assumptions of Jews or Israelis or how any of us experience antisemitism. I certainly won’t turn around and do the same thing to Palestinian people.

But all that said, yeah. I fully support @spot-the-antisemitism and @jewish-rock’s larger point that it is extremely difficult to engage in any pro-Palestine places where even messages of Palestinians explicitly describing their own experience is laced with bigotry (intentional or not) against Jews.

Like, I want to be here in this fight with you. I want to elevate your voices and demands justice for you. But I can’t do that if my only request—to understand (or at least attempt to understand) the mechanisms and history of antisemitism—is not being met. This isn’t because I’m being a Vindictive Jew™️.

Rather, it is because—when you do not adhere to this request—your posts are often laced with rhetoric that actively makes the world less safe for Jews. I cannot unthinkingly share statements that may embolden violent antisemites. I can’t live my life wondering if someone shot up a synagogue because I shared a post that made a violent antisemite think “Well, a Jewish person reblogged this. So even (((they))) must think it’s true.”

To any Palestinians reading this: I support you and wish for self determination and equality and joy and safety for you as much as I wish it for my own people. I have said before: We are siblings; we are cousins; we are love written indifferent fonts.

I do not require you to view me as human in order for me to view you as human. Humanity is innate to all humans. But I do require your words not to dehumanize or endanger me or my loved ones in order for me to share them.

I get that this is an uncomfortable conversation to have. But I think it’s an important one. If we can’t even have this conversation as random folks on the internet, how on earth can we expect the people with much more power to affect this situation to overcome much larger barriers to peace?

I hear you. I want to learn more about your perspective and struggles. I want to tell you about mine and those of all Jews. I want us to understand each other. To do that, we must begin somewhere—in good faith and without anger. Why not begin here?

This is a post with fascinating notes.

#leftist antisemitism #i/p #i/p conflict #racism #antisemitism #bigotry #anti zionisim #Zionism #Jewish Palestinian solidarity #intercultural mediation #intercultural discourse #intercultural solidarity

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five-rivers · 2 years ago

Text

Ancestral 11

The elaborate tableaux and plays that would generally be planned for the Moon Masque… hadn’t been. For obvious reasons.

Obvious reasons being that said planning was what the family had been about to do when most of their older members were killed. Moon Masque continuing in any capacity was nothing more than an attempt to ensure that all requirements for the trials were fulfilled.

Opinions on whether or not that was necessary varied.

"Mom," said Danny, leaning backwards over the arm of the chair he was sprawled in, "if you're really that worried about it, and hate the idea of it that much, we could just… not go."

Gwensyvyr, standing just behind Maddie, made the near universal hand gesture for are you crazy?

Danny scowled at her. As far as he'd been able to determine, there wasn't anything actually vital or fundamental about the Moon Masque.

Now, Danny did plan to sneak out to it, regardless. So much of the family together would be a tempting target for the murderer (or murderers).

Maddie sighed. "I might not see eye-to-eye with my cousins, but I'm not going to abandon them to some murderous ghost."

Right. Sometimes it was easy to forget, but he had learned his morals from his parents.

"That's right! Especially with us being the ghost wrangling experts! No one better to protect everyone and show that ghost what-for!"

… ghost-related biases notwithstanding.

"Why are you so sure it's a ghost in the first place?" asked Jazz, resting her elbows on the back of the couch. "Humans commit murder, too."

"Of that many people all at once, with no method immediately apparent? Don't be ridiculous–"

"Of course it isn't a ghost," said Iris, entering the sitting room with a pronounced frown on her face. George followed in her wake, holding an open book in front of him.

"Why, because ghosts are so well known for their benevolence? Nearly all cultures agree–"

"No," interrupted Iris. “Because ghosts don’t exist.”

“Pardon,” said Maddie, “what?”

“I mean,” said Iris, sitting down on the couch. “There have been so many studies, so many tests and experiments, and how many ghosts have people found? None. It’s a scam,” she finished, staring directly at Maddie.

“Haha,” said George. “Yeah, evidence of absence isn’t absence of– No, wait, I’m saying that backwards. Absence of evidence isn’t evidence of absence.” He nodded and sat down next to iris.

“Huh,” said Jack, emerging from the little side room whose original intent had been to serve as a butler’s nook but which currently contained a large amount of coffee-making paraphernalia. “I thought all you people believed in ghosts! Got an awful wrong idea about them, though.”

Jazz bit down on her lower lip. “Dad,” she said, finally.

“What? It’s true! Now, who wants some FUDGE espresso? It’s a Fenton family specialty!”

Danny had never heard of FUDGE espresso before. Then again, both his parents had seemed rather sleep deprived lately. Not that Danny was doing much better in that department, what with being constantly haunted.

Your ancestors (hopefully your ancestors - it’d be even weirder for unrelated ghosts to be doing this) silently staring at you while you lie in bed is not conducive to peaceful sleep.

Oh, well. Danny was used to it.

“I don’t drink coffee,” said Iris. “Caffeine is a drug.”

“A delicious and legal one! If you guys don’t drink coffee, then why’s all this back here?” He hooked a thumb towards the nook.

“Martin,” said George, shortly.

There was a moment of silence, broken only by Jack sipping his espresso.

“Have you heard from Cousin Alicia?” asked Iris.

“Not yet,” said Maddie. “But Alicia has always been… very independent. She’s– She’s probably fine. Running would-be bodyguards all around Spitoon and all that.”

“Spitoon?” asked George.

“The name of the town,” said Maddie.

More silence.

“So, what have you two been doing?” asked Maddie. “How have you been… holding up?”

“Fine,” said Iris, hands clasped tightly in her lap, back entirely straight.

“We’ve been working on finishing our premed requirements,” offered George. “We’re taking online courses to fill in the gap, since we’ll probably be out for the rest of the semester.”

“Oh,” said Maddie, “that’s nice. Are you planning to become surgeons, general practitioners…?”

“Pharmacologists,” said Iris. “Medicine is Avlynys’s biggest export, and we want to contribute.”

Not said, but heavily implied: the Fentons weren’t contributing.

“What about you, Danny, Jazz?” asked George. “You two must be thinking about what you’re going to study in college.”

“I was also thinking about going into the medical field, but I hadn’t decided which part,” said Jazz, picking at one of the couch’s seams.

“We could make it a thing- a family thing, then,” said George, attempting a smile. It didn’t quite fit on his face. It dropped quickly into something more contemplative as his gaze shifted to Danny.

Danny fidgeted. “I haven’t decided yet,” he said.

“Maybe you could go into security,” said Iris.

“What?”

“You noticed the poison.”

“I was just lucky to be paranoid and right,” said Danny.

“Hm,” said Iris. “Lucky.”

Danny turned his flinch into forward momentum and stood up. “Speaking of schoolwork, I’ve got some things to take care of.”

He fled.

The costumes for the Masque were simple, and the same for both sexes. A white domino mask and layered white robes over black clothing.

Wearing this in the woods in the middle of the night was going to make them look like cultists.

Still, it was better than past costumes. Danny looked at the album Jazz had unearthed from somewhere, and the elaborate, almost Venetian, and completely anonymous masks that had been popular at previous events.

No, that wouldn’t be good to wear now, when recognizing each other, and keeping out others, was so important.

There was also, of course, the ritual knife. Six inches of steel forged with traditional - and traditionally secret - techniques. Members of the royal family, unlike everyone else who would be attending, were expected to be armed and dangerous. Danny rather expected that Matthew would also be bringing a gun, and that his parents would have ecto-weaponry, even beyond Spector Deflectors (that Danny absolutely wasn’t wearing, even if it would ‘be invisible under the robes’).

Danny put away the album, and started to figure out how much of his first aid kit he could carry under his robes.

Part of the original idea of the Moon Masque - overgrown as it was by decades and sometimes centuries of cross-cultural exchange and superstition - was that it gave citizens the opportunity to speak directly to the nobility without fear of being recognized, censored, or punished.

That, of course, wasn’t happening this time. Not physically, in any case. What was being done instead was a sort of anonymous social media mailbox that would be randomly drawn from at different points during the Masque for the royal family to read and respond to.

The elder generation seemed positive it would be a hit.

The younger generation was equally sure it would simultaneously be a hit and a disaster.

Danny, for his part, eyed the cameras dubiously. Matthew had made the members of the press who were attending undergo even more rigorous checks than at the aborted coronation, but they made Danny feel uncomfortable anyway. He knew that the papers, in absence of other information, even their English names, were calling him and Jazz ‘the mysterious young Lord Dannyl Ymaz’ and ‘the mysterious young Lady Yazmyn Roz,’ and, well, speculating a lot.

The woes of being a public figure. He probably had another wikipedia page at this point, to match his Phantom one. He’d been too shy to check.

Beyond the cameras… The Masque was sparsely populated by Assembly members, members of the College of Heroes, Avlynys’s few non-royal nobles, and security personnel.

They really did have to be pulling people from the police force to staff these things. That was the only explanation.

Simple decorations - lengths of white cloth, mirrors, and lights - hung from the trees. There were small tables and chairs, also white, set up wherever there was enough room. The largest clearing was set up for dancing. Music played over high-quality speakers. There was no food, due to concerns about another poisoning attempt.

It was all sort of surreal. The sort of environment that made everyone look like ghosts. Except the ghosts, who, for the most part, were wearing regular clothes.

Matthew and Irene were making a good show of dancing, although they were the only ones. Joanna and Eugene were also dancing together, but… it honestly couldn’t be called good. Jack was bouncing on the sidelines, looking like nothing so much as a giant, jiggly marshmallow, while Maddie stood watch, arms crossed.

Everyone else was… around, Danny supposed. The identical costumes actually made everyone much harder to recognize from a distance than expected.

Danny skirted the fringes of the party, trying to keep an eye on everyone while staying out of the cameras’ line of sight. Nothing seemed out of place, despite the eerie atmosphere, but… Danny couldn’t help but be on guard.

Rather, he had to be on guard. He wasn’t going to let any more of his family be hurt. No matter how ridiculous they were being about ghosts, traditions, language, or loyalty.

A not quite natural flutter of white caught Danny’s eye, and he spun to see Gwensyvyr, and, behind her, Vivian, with a long-suffering expression on her face. Gwensyvyr had used her… Could Danny call it shapeshifting when she only used it to change her clothing? Anyway, she was dressed in the same clothing as the living, which would probably do wonders for public perception of his sanity if he mistook her for someone else.

She smiled and made finger guns at him. Because of course that’s what she’d picked up over the centuries. Finger guns.

Other than that, though, she looked as uneasy as he felt.

A bell tone rang through the woods, making Danny jolt. He was going to destroy his neck at this rate.

Reluctantly, he walked back to the central clearing, where the news crew had set up. The interviewer, a black woman with red-dyed hair, beamed at the family, then at the cameras. “Hello,” she said, “and welcome, everyone, to the first round of questions with sy Hys Dyryse! With us, we have Regent Matthew and Lady Irene, their children, Iris and George, Lady Sophia and her children, Lewis and Leo, Princess Joanna and her son, Eugene, and Princess Madeline, her husband Jack, and their children Jasmine and Daniel. Say hi, everyone!”

Danny waved desultorily.

“Thank you,” said the interviewer. “Now, every half hour of the Masque, we are going to have a question and answer session! If you have a question for the members of sy Hys Dyryse, please send it to our website, listed at the bottom of the screen.” She raised a finger and pointed down. “And onto our first questions!”

The interviewer accepted a tablet from one of the producers, and her face instantly froze into something that couldn’t more clearly indicate ‘this has swearing in it’ if she’d written it on her face in sharpie.

“Ahem,” she said, after a too-long pause. “The first question is, what is your…” a pause to edit out a word, “stance on gay marriage?”

“On- I’m sorry, what?” asked Matthew. “Is that- Is that a joke?”

The producer who had handed off the tablet made a slightly dismayed face. Danny couldn’t help but wince as well. This was… not off to a good start.

“Did an Englishman write that? Do we have the English writing in? No, you wouldn’t know,” said Matthew, making a short, dismissive gesture. “Marriage is a religious affair. The institution isn’t recognized by the government of Avlynys in any official capacity. People can do what they want with their free time. Why should I care who is married?”

Joanna, Danny noticed, sent Matthew a mildly affronted look at that.

The next three questions (‘Princess Yazmyn, are you single?’ ‘What is your quest?’ and ‘Can your country answer for the damages done by offshore oil drilling?’) didn’t go much better. As the interviewer retreated, Danny heard her asking the producers if they could limit the website availability to people actually in the country and, possibly, put on a profanity filter.

Danny felt like he was retreating, too. But he needed a moment to gather himself. He leaned against a tree and closed his eyes.

His moment was interrupted first by a spectral hand on his arm, and then by the cold chill of his ghost sense. Gwensyvyr had her hand on his arm, and was staring back towards the central clearing. If his ghost sense was going off, that meant there was someone here who wasn’t before. Someone stronger than the dozens of silent spirits that had haunted him since the plane landed.

He reached inside his robes, fingers finding the hilt of the ritual knife.

And then there was a scream. A shout. A “No!” and the sharp zing! of an ectoblast and a grunt of pain.

Danny sprinted back to the clearing, and, oh, if anyone wanted a tableau–

There was Maddie, there was Jack, blasters in hand. There was Matthew, standing in front of them, arms outstretched, a greenish, smoking singe on his shoulder. Behind him, Sophia, who was, in turn, shielding–

Vivian?

No, definitely not Vivian. Vivian was standing next to Danny, looking absolutely horrified, Gwensyvyr gripping her arm with teeth bared and sharp, eyes glowing fiercely.

The cameras were watching.

“Move, Matthew!” said Maddie. “I know what you think, but that’s not Vivian!”

Matthew barred his teeth, looking, for a moment, remarkably like his ancestress. “Can you not accept the proof of your own ey–”

“She’s right!” shouted Danny. “That’s not Vivian!”

Matthew’s gaze snapped to Danny, widening in shock, and he started to twist, taking a step to the side and away, but the thing wearing Vivian’s face was moving, too. A long, narrow knife flicked first across Sophia’s face, then dove for Matthew’s side.

Danny threw his knife, then wished he hadn’t a split second later. Something physical like that would just pass through–

But it didn’t. The thing was hit in the lower chest and wrenched sideways, its knife skittering across Matthew’s shoulder blade. Dark green dripped from its wound.

It looked up at Danny with sharp red eyes, face warped into something unrecognizable, then melted, ectoplasm sublimating in seconds. Danny’s knife hit the ground with a ringing sound.

“Ancestors!” hissed Matthew.

Sophia started to wail.

#danny phantom #ectoberweek22 #ectober week 2022 day 4: scream #ectober #ectober week #ancestral fic

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