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highlordofkrypton · 6 months ago

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warmth // an elain x lucien smut one-shot

This was written as a response to @lainalit's request for a specific Elucien scenario 😉

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've never written Elain before, and this fic turned out way more delicate than I expected! Hope you all enjoy it.

SUMMARY: Elain loves her husband, but as the emissary of the Spring Court, Lucien is always busy. She decides to set a time limit; he can work as long as he can resist her.

Read on AO3 or under the cut (tw: explicit content).

The earth feels cool on her long slender fingers; it feels like home. Old memories of their hovel drift into her mind as she pokes little burrows for the water to seep more deeply into the ground, and perhaps if she's lucky, wild little flowers will find a home to grow in.

Her work is purposeful, though humble. On one end of the garden, roses bloom, watching the centuries go by despite their creator's absence. She sings to them, and tells them stories of their son, the current High Lord of this magical, blossoming place.

"Your sprout is doing well," she whispers to the spirit of Tamlin's mother who has lived here for an eternity and a half. "But you already knew that."

The plot right beside the yellow flowers are a little hoard of alpine lotuses. They breathe with scent of crisp night, but their hearts are as bright as spring itself. Elain tends to them too; the flowers—they speak to each other. She may not be privy to their conversations, but they all seem to mirror one another.

Elain picks up her basket and adjusts her sunhat, moving from eternal flower to eternal flower. She knows each of them like old friends, some of whom their magic is familiar and others, a welcomed stranger into her life.

It was her idea to sow this garden; it was her mission to create a place of peace and safety for all those who wanted to protect what matters most to them. Faeries and humans alike would come here and plant their love, either a single grain of everything they have, or grand gestures of adoration. When Tamlin had told her to make herself at home, this was her only request. A place for all to love freely.

The High Lord had not only granted her wish, but he extended his protection over all which bloomed in his soils, no matter their origins.

Her first and last stop is always the bright orange emberflowers at the edge of her garden. When the breeze blows, their petals crackle like a warm fire on a cool summer's eve. Their song welcomes her as she approaches, and they sway at the sight of her smile—happy little children at the sight of their beloved mother.

"Hello, my darlings," she hums.

Their petals are soft, and she remembers only to touch the edges where the colour errs on the shades of fall. She had made the mistake of touching the bright ringlets of blue at their cores, and it had burned her terribly.

It was her mistake for thinking something so soft and comforting would be without its own edges. Lucien had told her their flowers hold the ferocity with which he would protect their love, but Elain knew that she would protect what they have twice as hard.

When every member of the garden has been cared for, Elain retreats to the Lord's manor. She skips past Alis and the gaggle of new handmaidens. She introduces herself briefly, quickly brushing her soiled hands across the white apron over her dress, before excusing herself. The basket of gardening tools is left on the first floor while she searches for her dutiful half, but not before washing her hands clean with lilac water.

Though she knows exactly where he is, Elain still makes a game out of it, wondering if she'll ever catch her husband in one of the many other rooms in the manor. Their room, though full of flowers and beloved paintings, is empty. The library is still a mess—a chaos that can only be attributed to guests enjoying the company of their home—but without its Lord Emissary.

She breezes through the long hallways, past the prim white walls and golden trims of intricate moldings. Her life on the other side of the wall had been years ago, and yet, she still cannot believe the opulence of a High Lord's home.

"Miss Elain, Miss Elain!" A tiny pixie buzzes beside her, crystaline wings fluttering wildly to keep up with Elain's long strides. "I did it! I did it!"

"I told you," Elain reprimands, voice light like a chime. "Elain is just fine." She holds her hands out to cup the little creature as it stands stark naked, hands on her little hips. "How did it go?"

"I told them! I told them that just because I was little, they couldn't push me around. It's not very springy of them," the pixie nods, her pointed tuft of hair bouncing with the movement. "And that the Lady of our Court would be very disappointed."

"And what did they say?"

"Um," the pixie gets shy. "Well, they said that Spring Court doesn't have a Lady, so I kicked them in the butt real hard."

Elain laughs. There are those who have yet to acclimate to her role in the Spring Court. Her husband, for all intents and purposes, is the Lord Emissary of Spring and in the absence of the Court's High Lord, the decisions fall to Lucien. She takes none of it to heart.

"I can't say I endorse the violence," Elain says firmly, but she looks around to see if anyone is around to eavesdrop. "Good job standing up for yourself." She smiles and presses a gentle kiss on the pixie's forehead. "I heard there's honey tarts in the kitchens. You should go reward yourself. Tell Aed that I, the not-Lady of the Court, sent you."

"Thank you, Miss Elain! I couldn't'a done it without you!"

The pixie flies off, excitedly doing loop-de-loops in the air, as Elain waves her goodbye.

Onwards towards my husband, Elain muses, a soft smile on her delicate features.

Five rhythmic knocks signal her arrival. Lucien lifts his head, and her heart flutters at the sight of him. Her spirits had been light already, but being with him makes her soul soar.

"My love," he greets smoothly.

"My dutiful emissary," she reprimands with a grin. "How long have you been here?"

Lucien sets his quill down, and waves away the other three that were scribbling away by the grace of his magic. "Not that long."

"Since the first crow of the cock, at least, and it is nearly noon." The grin that slithers on his face is made of mischief. Elain ignores the implications, skirting into the room. "When I married you, I thought I would have more of you."

"So did I, but our High Lord seems to have developed an aversion to paperwork. It's fatal, he says."

"Mhm, and that is why he is galavanting in Night Court?"

"He, and I quote, brought the honey — where else will he find the moon but in the Night Court?"

"Clever."

With a single finger (and his help), she coaxes his chair backwards. Elain climbs into her lap, and when he leans to press a kiss to her lips, she turns to focus on work. That is his preference, is it not? Instead, his kiss lands on the tops of her pointed ears.

"What's this?"

Elain's eyes dance across the page. It is a draft with words crossed out haphazardly and more scribbles above. She finds many things in the discarded—words of love and adoration, a plea for celebration, and a hundred other soft sentiments.

"You're still doing this?"

Lucien rests his chin on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist securely as he reads along with her. "Mhm."

"Lucien," she breathes. "You don't need to."

He promised—he promised he would love her in every which way, including professing his love to her in the languages of the Seven Courts of Prythian. On their fingers, they wear the shadows of the Night Court, a promise to always hold one another. In their eyes, flickers of brown dot Lucien's russet, and vice versa for Elain—the magic of Dawn sealed their promise to always see one another through glamour, magic and the storm of emotions. Both Autumn and Spring bargains are sealed here in the garden, their very own fire contained in their eternal flowers.

In his newest letter, he entreats the Winter Court to allow them into their territory for the Midwinter Festival where the two of them can bring life to a snowmite through the magic of their bargain. High Lord Kallias is not his father, but since Amarantha's invasion, Lucien has always tread carefully with Winter.

"I do. I love you to the ends of this Earth and back."

"I know that, you foolish male. I don't need grand gestures."

"And yet, you will recieve them anyway," Lucien grins.

"Even at the cost of spending time with my husband?"

"I'm almost done, my darling."

Oh, this will not do. Even if Lucien says he's almost done, Elain knows that this is the lie that plagues him the most. She presses a gentle kiss to his lips. "Not good enough. Aed has prepared new recipes for us to try. The food will get cold."

She knows if she truly asked him to stop working, he would. There is nothing Lucien would deny her. Instead, an idea flutters into her mind. The kind of idea that brings a deep flush to her cheeks. Mother above, it's so unlike her, Elain doubts if she can execute it properly. She would ask her sisters were they here, but they too have taken to galavanting across Prythian now that the threat of death no longer looms above them. Not for years now.

How much is too much? She would ask them.

A few years ago, we had nothing. Nothing is too much, Feyre would surely say while grazing on a tamelon with her feet up on the ornate couch and her boots still on.

Who cares? Nesta would snap. Do what makes you happy, El. He's a male, he will be happy with whatever you give him.

It's true, Feyre would agree.

It's a wonder how things have changed—how three sisters who could not be more different are now in sync. Their family, once fractured, feels whole again.

"You will have a time limit."

Lucien's auburn brows perk. "Oh? And how much time will I have?"

"That depends," Elain says, getting up and adjusting her skirts. She feigns looking for something under her desk.

"On what? What are you looking for down there?" Rather than answer, she pulls his chair closer, effectively trapping her beneath the desk, between his legs. "Elain?"

Never in her years has she thought of doing something like this. She has always watched the others; how freely they express their adoration for their partners. Her shyness has always overwhelmed her. If not, the propriety he mother taught her always took precedence. Her duty as the wife of an emissary is to represent him well. What use is there for her to do such things?

Only one way to find out.

Arousal pools in her belly before she even begins, warmth settling between her legs. She bites her lip, fascinated by the magic of her own mind. She hasn't done anything, and yet her body knows.

Elain's slender fingers smooth over Lucien's thighs. Beneanth the tailored fabric, she can feel the strength of his lean muscles. His style has always been a choice, projecting elegance and flair, all while hiding the power beneath. (Power that she knows well.)

She kisses his knee, a loving gesture he has done to her time and time again—one that she is happy to reciprocate. Her touch wanders to his hips, and his ass without lingering too long.

"Elain." Lucien's voice is a shuddered breath. "What are you doing?"

"Entertaining myself while you finish your work."

"Elain," he outright moans, a single-word complaint.

A smile dances on her lips as her hand explores the blooming erection between his legs. Elain laughs softly, but its drowned out by Lucien's groan. He spreads himself as much as he can, trapped between the walls of the desk. He could shatter the desk, but that would defy the point of her game.

Button by button, Elain takes her sweet time in freeing her husband's cock from the confines of his tailored trousers. It springs free, tall, proud and glistening, even in the dim light under the desk. She takes it in his hand, stroking the soft skin and toying with the folds of his tip.

"Ah, ah, Elain."

He speaks her name like a prayer, like salvation wrapped up in a single sound. His hips rise, looking for more friction, and the attempt makes her pull back. She is in charge, not him. Lucien groans, sitting up properly. He sighs, and above her, the quills begin to scribble once more.

He's getting it, she hums to herself, amused.

Elain leans forward, kissing the root of his erection. Her warm breath curls over his skin. She presses her lips along its length until she reaches the top and tongues beneath the skin to taste the salty-sweet of his precome. She lingers there for a bit, listening to the heavy breaths of her husband as he reigns in his desire. Then, when she's satisfied, she trails back down towards his balls. Each one is taken whole in her mouth, sucked lovingly. She nips at the skin; she gets to enjoy him in a new way today, entirely at her own pace and without his distractions.

Her husband is an impatient man, and a giving man, which means that she cannot have him on display like this—which means that she has never had him at her mercy. He squirms when the cool air hits his saliva-slicked balls.

"Keep playing with them," he pleads, but he is not in control here. The only thing Elain cares to hear is whether or not he is enjoying himself.

"Elain, you will be the death of me." He pauses, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "You give me life."

Another kiss graces Lucien's tip. Then, Elain spreads her lips to take him into her mouth. She cannot take him whole, not on the first try, and her throat seizes around him. She has to pull back.

"Fuck," he growls.

Elain tries again.

His cock slides into the warmth of her throat, and she holds him there. Just a little more. She just has to figure out how to take a little more of him. Thinking about it doesn't help, but she knows she has to measure her breath. She knows that she has to simply enjoy this.

Her fingers slip between her legs, feeling the moist patch at the centre of her undergarments. Outside the pink fabric, Elain applies pressure. A soft pulsing rhythm to distract her. The more she toys with herself, the more willing she is to open her mouth, to coax that fluttering muscle at the back of her mouth to yield for her husband's thick length.

"Are you playing with yourself?" He asks from above. "I can smell you, my sweet flower."

"Mhm."

"Fuck. I can just see it, my love. I could come on the very thought of you fingering yourself for me, so you can take me deeper."

Elain stops, wincing her eyes shut. She could come on the words spilling from that damned mouth of his and he isn't trying. (She has come on his words alone.) Breath heavy, she swallows him to the root.

And then, she simply stays there.

"I want to fuck your mouth," Lucien complains. "I want to fuck your mouth. Fuck. You feel so good." His fingers curl into the desk, scraping at the wood. There is a long moment where he seems at war with himself, debating whether to give into his desire for this beautiful, wonderful woman at his feet, but he proves himself to be the better male.

Lucien gets to work. Elain remains between his legs, warming his cock with her mouth. She stops toying with herself. Instead, she leans her cheek against his thigh and waits. Occasionally, his fingers would reach down to caress her hair—to toy with her ear affectionally—before he finishes what he was writing. Whenever he touches her, Elain's eyes would flutter shut in sheer comfort.

Her eyes flutter shut. Occasionally, Elain will shift her tongue and even the slightest bit of friction will have him hardening once more. Her jaw begins to ache; like magic, he reaches down to massage the tense muscle. His hand trails down her neck, then to her shoulder for a gentle, grateful squeeze.

She hears him without him neeeding to say anything—

What have I done to deserve you?

It's why he will anchor their love in every Court, in every single one of their love languages. For her.

"I'm done," his voice rouses her from her comfortable lull, despite her mouth full of his cock. "Do you—"

Elain sits straighter, gripping his hip with one hand and withdrawing herself from him ever so slightly. She wraps her slender fingers around the base and begins bobbing her head, filling the room with wet, slurping sounds. She hollows her cheeks, sucking her husband's cock to the best of her ability.

"Hnng, my love."

Strands of her hair fall into her face, and before she can pause to tuck them behind her ear, Lucien's already there, gathering her hair in one hand and pulling slightly.

"You'll let me know if I get too rough?"

Elain nods.

Lucien starts to move against her, gently at first. Each thrust into her warm, wet, welcome mouth strikes at her chore. Wetness pools between her legs; she swears that she is ruining the soft carpet beneath her knees, but she has no regrets. None.

She tugs on the hem of his shirt. More, she asks, politely.

The bond nudges at her mind gently. Elain closes her eyes while Lucien fucks her mouth, letting the full breadth of their mating enter her.

She can feel it. Goddesses, she can feel him. She can feel the way her mouth encapsulates the length of his cock—the way her throat flutters around his tip. Each clench sends waves of ecstacy through Lucien, and he fights the urge to grip her hair and properly fuck her.

Oh, that is most definitely a problem.

Elain shifts gears. Using Lucien's thighs as leverage, she ups the pace, bobbing her head on him with fierce determination.

"Elain, ahhhh, Elain. I'm going to come."

Each time she spears herself upon him, the thrust is felt at her core like—like he's fucking both her mouth and her cunt at once. It pulls at her mind in every which way, wearing at her focus. She cannot decide between the high of worshipping Lucien with her mouth or being ridden.

"Let me," Lucien breathes, coaxing her to let him take control with a gentle touch along her jaw.

Elain nods.

His angle shifts, and he cups both her cheeks while driving himself into her. Her pussy clenches, as if trying to grab hold of something that isn't there, but she feels him. Elain slackens her jaw, the only way to take him at this pace. Although he truly, properly fucks her mouth, he's still careful. He never passes the threshold of her throat, never dares choke her; he is delicate in his use of her.

"I'm close, are you—are you sure you don't want me too —ah!"

Her fingers curl around his balls, fondling him. Her touch slips further back towards his perineum, and then, and then—does she dare? Elain presses the pad of one finger against his asshole.

"Elain."

Lucien's reaction is immediate, bucking into her mouth. Warmth floods her, and she has the bitter-sweet taste of his come on her tongue. He pumps into her a couple of more times, hips rolling from the high of ecstacy. When he pulls back, a dribble of saliva and cum escape her lips. She dabs at it, and swallows.

Elain blinks up at him, nothing the expression of surprise on her husband's face. Every time they've made love, he has been the one to take the lead. The fingering trick, that was his that she turned against him and it worked in her absolute favour. She ducks her head, sheepish.

"Don't look at me like that," Lucien grins. He picks her up, carefully placing his hand on her head to protect her from bumping it on the underside of the desk. "It's time for me to return the favour."

"We'll be late for lunch," she says with a deep flush on her cheeks.

"That's not very fair, is it? You've had your fill." Lucien pulls her close, leaning in to breathe into her ear. "Shall I save you for dessert then?" He squeezes her hands as he nips the lobe of her ear, just below the pretty fox earrings her sisters had gotten her for her last birthday. "Next time, don't swallow. I want to taste us." Lucien kisses her anyway.

Oh, oh, her face burns.

"Lucien!"

She smacks his shoulder, but takes a note for next time. There is much opportunity to explore herself and her husband. Some would say, there is an eternity ahead of them.

#my fics #acotar fanfic #acotar #acotar au #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #lucien x elain

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cherrygummycandy · 2 years ago

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Rescue from the Rescue

A platonic! Puss-in-boots and Perrito x reader

Summary: Working as a helper at Mama Lunas isn't always easy, and unexpected things can happen. Though, you never though meeting a Spanish-speaking cat and a dog dressed as a cat would be one of those things.

(An: This request was orginally for a younger niece or nephew of Mama Luna, but I didn't want to make it too gender specific (and I couldn't for the love of me figure out how to make a realistic family tree for Luna) so I made the reader an occasional volunteer. Please enjoy!

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Sweep. Sweep. Sweep. The scratchy sound of the broom rings out as your broom glides across the floor, as bits of fur, spare litter, and kibble are swept up into the dustpan. You hum a soft tune, swaying in turn to the beat. "Oh, Little Helper, come here!" Mama Luna's voice rings out across the brightly colored casa. "Coming, Miss Luna." You prop the broom up against the wall, grabbing the dustpan and dumping the contents in the nearby trashcan. 'Don't want any of the cats trudging through this and undoing my work.' You think, placing the now empty pan back by the broom.

You hurry through the house, tiptoeing across persians, shorthairs, and tabbies as you attempt not to step on any tails. You step into the living and sigh in relief, having dodged all the cats. Mama Luna sits in her rocking chair, knitting what appears to be yet another pair of cat mittens. "Oh, come here child." She waves you over, eyes not leaving the yarn project in front of her. "I'm planting a catnip bush out by the garden, would ya' mind tilling the soil?" She asks, stopping to push her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. You nod, but pause with a grimace when you see the plethora of cats napping atop her ratty grey hair. "Yeah, sure. Do you know where the garden supplies are?" She waves a hand over in the direction of the backdoor. "Just check the bag by the door." As you step away, slipping at the back door, you hear her call. "Thank ya', Little Helper! I'll make ya a real nice sweater for this. You giggle a little, and shake your head.

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Stepping down the rickety steps of the porch, you enter the garden. Bright stone walls enclose the area, decked out with various hanging plants. The ground is carefully decorated with all sorts of colorful plants, from poinsettias to marigolds. You smile, remembering the first time you entered Mama Luna's garden, coming to ask for some Marigolds for your Dia De Los Muertos altar. Honestly, you have no idea she managed to keep this garden looking so nice before you came along, seeing as anytime you see her she's knitting or bathing cats.

Just as you begin looking for a trowl, your ears perk up at a nearby sound. "So, Pickles, what do you want to do today? I was thinking-" "WE are not going to do anything, Perrito. I am going to sun in el jardín." You watch in amazement as what appears to be a talking cat strolls into the garden, standing on two legs. Behind him follows a, cat? 'What is that thing?' You think, tilting your head in confusion. The scrawny creatures look less like a cat, and more like a rat in a feline costume. "Oh! Sunning, just like a real cat! I'll join you, maybe I can sun my belly." The little animal says. "Um, excuse me?" You say, stepping forward to make your princess known. The orange cat jumps in shock, dropping to stand on all-fours, while his companion lowers his head, and attempts to use his hood, which has a cat face poorly knitted on it. "Uh... meow?" The orange cat tries. You furrow your brows, before looking back toward the house in realisation.

"Oh, you're worried Mama Luna will hear you. I won't tell her anything, I promise." You place a hand on your chest and kneel down, reaching the orange tabby's height. "I'm Mama Luna's helper, I just stop by from time to time, helping her with chores and what not. And you are?" The cat hesitates, green eyes looking you over cautiously, before standing back on two legs and taking a dramtic bow. "I am known by many names, but you, pequeño ayudante, may call me Puss." You smile, amused. "But your tag says pick-" "I know what the tag says! That is simply the name given to me by the-" Puss shudders, and glances at the house. "Iady of the house." He finishes. As you nod, your attention is drawn to his friend behind him.

"Who's your friend, Puss?" You ask, looking at the strange sweatered animal. Puss sighs, gesturing weakly with a paw. "This is Perrito, and, he is not my friend." Puss explains, barley glancing at Perrito. "Perrito... the cat? That seems like an odd name." You feign confusion, slowly reaching for Perrito's hood. Suddenly, you flip it back, revealing the a small, scrappy looking dog. "A chihuaha?" You exclaim, as the dog yelps. "Oh! Please, please, please don't tell Mama Luna, I don't really go into the house, I live under the por-" Perrito goes on, frantically rambling about his living conditions under the porch. Puss scoffs, turning away from the dog and pressing a paw to his forehead. You, on the other hand, feel your smile drop at the pitiful little pup. "Hey, calm down, please?" You ask, putting your hands out in front of you. Perrito's rambling stops and he looks up at you. "I'm not gonna kick you out or anything, I promise. You're a stray, right?" He nods. "Look, I know Mama Luna probably wouldn't be to keen on keeping a dog, or letting a walk around talking and standing." You admit. Perrito and Puss watch, waiting for your next words. "But, I'm not Mama Luna, so I guess I'll have to let it slide." Puss smiles and nods with gratitude, while Perrito hops up in delight. "Oh wow! Can you believe it Puss? Now, I've gone from no friends, to two friends in one day!" Perrito exclaims, tail wagging back and forth.

"We aren't amigos, amigo." Puss retorts. "Look, I have to finish tilling the soil, Mama Luna wants some new plants going in over there." You point towards the northern end of the garden, to a small bare patch under a tree. "But, once I'm done, maybe you guys can tell me a bit about yourselves?" You suggest. "Wow, Okay! Hey, I'm really good at digging. I bet if I help, we can get done even quicker!" Perrito exclaims. Before you can even respond, he bounds over to the unused soil and begins to dig at a frantic pace. You chuckle to yourself, and look a Puss. "He's... a bit odd, no?" Puss says, tilting his head as he watches Perrito fall into a hole that he just dug. "I'll say. Y'know, I'm looking forward to learning more about you, Puss. It's not everyday I meet a talking cat." You say, looking to the ground sheepishly as you kick a pebble. "Well, it seems like Perrito could be at it for a while... why don't I just started with the story now, sí?"

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It's been several hours, much longer than you realize, since the three of you began to discuss your pasts. You were amazed to learn about the adventures of Puss. You couldn't imagine going through half the things he has. Not only that, but you didn't actually know cats had nine lives, you always assumed it was a myth. "So, I say to the man, 'That is the last time you'll cross Puss-in-boots!'" Puss exclaims, finishing a story. Perrito stands on his hind legs and claps, while you let out a loud cheer. You quickly cover your mouth to stifle the sound, realizing Mama Luna must be asleep. "Oh my god, w-what time is it?" You ask, looking up and realizing how dark it's gotten. "About 9:00, why?" Perrito asks. You hop up quickly, moving up the steps and towards the backdoor. "I need to pack up, I must've gotten carried away with your great story-telling puss." You compliment. Puss follows you in, but Perrito stops at the edge of the door. "Perrito, you sure you don't want to come in? Mama Luna's sight isn't what it used to be." You suggest Perrito smiles, but shakes his head. "Nah, I've got a cozy corner under the porch waiting for me, besides, the rats are probably expecting me back." He gives you a goodbye, and you smile sadly as the chihuaha scrambles under a lookse board of the porch, fall down under the porch with a 'pop'.

You hurry to begin the journey back home, tying your boots and avoiding cats as you grab your bag and coat. As you do a last minute chek, to ensure everything you need is with you, you see Puss out of the corner of your eye. He is stood leaning against the bottom of a bookshelf, seemingly conflicted. "Puss?" You ask softly. His head snaps up, and he looks at you. "Are you okay?" You ask. "Fine, just thinking is all." He says. You feel that there is something more, but simply turn away. As your hand moves to reach the door, he says one final thing.

"How often do you stop by?"

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gmanwhore · 4 months ago

Note

I want to hear your random headcanons of every nightmare resident

Because I just love nightmare mode

Ok ok I'm gonna go through. And give them their role in the hierarchy, their alignment (Death, War, Pestilence, Famine), and a random headcanon. I have more headcanons for certain characters but :3 Also alignment is just. Which Horseman they align with and which values they follow related to each idea. Yeah. If you want I can go into more detail but yeah.

Also also. The hierarchy goes Horseman -> Consort -> Ritual Performers (including the guy who provides sacrifices) -> Common Nightmare

Also another general headcanon! All romantic/familial relationships are the same :3

Xesbet:

Role: Common Nightmare

Alignment: War/Famine

Random headcanon: Xesbet is actually a lot like his human counterpart, a fairly chill guy who just wants to do his job. He just has a resting smile now instead of a resting frown.

Drugia:

Role: Common Nightmare

Alignment: Pestilence

Headcanon: Drugia can actually like. Make arms for the hands on her head. Also she's almost entirely blind, despite the number of eyes she has.

Exael:

Role: Common Nightmare

Alignment: War

Headcanon: He is incredibly methodical with his torture, and is very professional about everything. He's genuinely not into this, guys.

Barbatos:

Role: Ritual Performer

Alignment: Death/War

Headcanon: He strikes such fear into mortals he can simply open a sack and tell someone to get in. And they will just do that. Also, like his brother he is not a bad guy he's just chill.

Abducius:

Role: Common Nightmare (used to be a Ritual Performer)

Alignment: War/Death

Headcanon: He does get off of torturing people.

Lilith:

Role: Ritual Performer

Alignment: Famine/Pestilence

Headcanon: I don't CARE she is Nightmare Selenne to ME. Also she provides potions for rituals and is basically in charge of outside supplies. Also also she's dating both Famine and Pestilence so like.

Anazareth:

Role: Ritual Performer

Alignment: Famine

Headcanon: She is the man reason they have like. Half their Common Nightmares. Specifically Barbatos, Exael, Izanami, Abducius, and Nyogtha. She also just kind of does that when she gets pissed off.

Chaugnar:

Role: Ritual Performer

Alignment: Famine/Death

Headcanon: He is a perfectionist. He's not rude but he will passive agressively rearrange whatever was done wrong and be like "oh no it's fine don't mind me"

Nyogtha:

Role: Common Nightmare

Alignment: Death

Headcanon: She is worms baybayyyyyyyyyy like she is just a bundle of sentient worms. She's just piloting a rotting flesh mech.

Zoth:

Role: Ritual Performer

Alignment: Famine/Death

Headcanon: He is out preparing their ritual grounds almost constantly because plants grow very fast, but he doesn't mind and he enjoys his job.

Shub:

Role: Horseman of Famine

Alignment: Famine

Headcanon: Her symbols are snakes, dogs, and apples. Her season is Summer, and her festival is a huge feast! Her weapons are a Bear trap, and a morning star. She also has a garden for herself and spends a lot of time there. She's also one of the two Horsemen who are also technically elder gods because she is OLD and has never passed her title on.

Yog:

Role: Common Nightmare (former Consort)

Alignment: Famine/Pestilence

Headcanon: He genuinely doesn't care about anyone. He's always on the damn tome. He goes out very rarely.

Quachil:

Role: Consort

Alignment: Pestilence

Headcanon: PUT THIS GIRL BACK WITH HER MOM NOOWWWWWWWW she is a mama's girl she has to live with her dad because Yan Luo was salty at Ishtar for getting divorced. Quachil acts like she doesn't care but she HATES it here. She was also cast out of Heaven as a baby.

Yan Luo:

Role: Princess/Horseman of Death

Alignment: Death

Headcanon: She is from a long lineage, but she's the first woman like. Ever. Her symbols are dragons and skulls, her season is winter, and her weapon is a scythe (she can't use it). She is also the youngest of the Horsemen, and the least experienced. Her thing is a week long funeral, and during the winter she slips into a depression for. The whole season.

Orcus:

Role: Consort

Alignment: Death

Headcanon: He likes his wife :D

Ishtar:

Role: Horseman of Pestilence

Alignment: Pestilence

Headcanon: Ishtar's symbols are rats and locusts. Her season is Spring, and her weapon is a sword that she can grow vines up to STAB people. Her festival is. I shan't say. She is as old as Shub. Yeah ok she's a fertility goddess and is the only one who's festival doesn't include a sacrifice. She's also the kind of lady who will see a child and ask "is anyone gonna adopt this" and not wait for an answer.

Teutates:

Role: Horseman of War

Alignment: War

Headcanon: Teutates' season is Fall, and his symbols are horses and wolves. His formal weapon is a cudgel, but when he's just out and about he uses a baseball bat covered in barbed wire. His thing is a giant tournament where humans have to fight each other, than Teutates kills the winner. He is the only person who is chill with dopplegangers apparently, he likes keeping them as pets.

Ah Puch:

Role: Common Nightmare (formerly Horseman of War)

Alignment: War

Headcanon: He really needs a break, that's why he retired. He's mostly just annoying now.

Dagda:

Role: Common Nightmare

Alignment: Death

Headcanon: Dagda was sewn together by Yan Luo, and Xesbet put a soul in him. He sees Yan Luo as a mother but she doesn't like him. He is literally just a silly idk what to say.

Izanami:

Role: Common Nightmare

Alignment: War/Pestilence

Headcanon: You would think she's like. Quiet and sneaky but her ass is NOT she's very agressive and quick to anger.

#nightmare mode #that's not my neighbor #thats not my neighbor #tnmn

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anxiousgaypanicking · 7 months ago

Note

I just read your tiny crowley good omens shot 😍 what about a reverse situation? Aziraphale shrinking down, maybe Crowley thinks he can get a little bit of humiliation pay back only for him to still end up being the one more submissive anyway?

Itty Bitty And Bossy

[sequel to "Tiny Kisses"] Warnings: micro/macro, oral play, humping

"Angel," Crowley calls, as he lays stretched out on Aziraphale's settee.

Aziraphale is up organizing his books, and though his footsteps are quiet, Crowley can hear him traversing the shelves, pulling a novel out here and pushing a diary back in.

Though, Aziraphale does pause upon hearing his name be called, and sets off towards the couch. Crowley waits until he nears it, and bites back a smile when Aziraphale circles the furniture, running his hand along the armrest and very lightly brushing his fingertips through Crowley's hair.

"Yes?" Aziraphale answers, and as Crowley glances towards Aziraphale's hands, he's pleased to see the angel had momentarily set his books aside in order to respond.

Crowley shifts his position. "Would you do me a favor?"

Aziraphale's brows furrow, albeit playfully. His lips are stretched into a curious grin. "Depends on the favor."

So, throwing Aziraphale's words back at him, Crowley begins with "do you remember Scotland? Edinburgh, 1827?"

His words immediately have Aziraphale's eyes going wide, and sparkling slightly. "I do indeed."

"Wonderful." Crowley adjusts his position, nearly knocking his glasses off the cushions where he'd previously set them as he swings his legs over the edge of the couch. Sitting up, he clears his throat, before attempting to look casual as he says "I was just thinking about Edinburgh, and more specifically about what it'd led us to recently-" his implications are playful, but a slight blush makes its way onto his face as he talks, "-and I've realized that you've seen me change size a handful of times, but I've only ever seen you in your normal stature."

Aziraphale laughs softly. "Well, I've only ever existed in my normal stature."

"That's a bit unfair, don't you think?"

Crowley reaches for Aziraphale's hand, and grabs it, holding it lightly with his own. Aziraphale squeezes his fingers.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Aziraphale responds. "So you'd like to see me in another size."

"If you wouldn't mind."

Aziraphale hums, and echoes "if I wouldn't mind. Well, I certainly don't think I mind. If you're so interested, then why not satisfy your curiosity?"

Brushing off his pants, Aziraphale circles the settee fully until he's standing before Crowley, looking rather poised, before suddenly his form begins to shrink down. It's slow, and awfully dramatic, but Crowley takes the time to make sure his feet are out of Aziraphale's way, and instead keeps his boots planted on either side of Aziraphale's newfound form.

Leaning down, Crowley sets his cupped hands on the floor, and much to his delight Aziraphale prances into them, settling himself on his knees within Crowley's palms. Crowley lifts him gingerly off the ground, and then just cradles him for a moment.

Weirdly enough, holding Aziraphale like this actually makes Crowley feel more flustered than he would have expected. Though, he's not exactly sure why.

Very gently, Crowley presses his thumb against Aziraphale's chubby stomach, softly telling him "you're quite... something like this."

"Shall I interpret that as a compliment?"

Crowley snorts. "Something like that."

Affectionately, Aziraphale reaches to hold Crowley's thumb, and offers a light "thank you, then," which has Crowley exhaling deeply through his nose.

Crowley's thumb circles over his stomach for a moment, before it steadily descends further brushes over Aziraphale's crotch. Under his breath, Crowley muses "I might just prefer you like this." It's said like a joke, but Aziraphale still blushes at the implication.

The ball of Crowley's thumb then rubs over his groin, making Aziraphale moan softly at the touch, and attempt to pull Crowley's finger even closer.

"Keep going," Aziraphale encourages him, his eyes fluttering shut as he relaxes shamelessly in Crowley's hands. And yet, Crowley stops, lifting his thumb away from Aziraphale and making Aziraphale quietly huff.

Before he can complain though, Crowley is pressing his nail to the bottom of Aziraphale's vest, and sliding it upwards. He gets it about halfway up Aziraphale's stomach, before pulling his thumb away and mumbling "take it off."

Aziraphale replaces Crowley's finger with his own hands and undoes his vest, offering Crowley an affectionate smile as he does so. As he shrugs it off, Aziraphale insists "you as well," which catches Crowley off guard.

Crowley just stares at him for a moment, before nodding slightly as though it'd taken him a moment to process Aziraphale's words.

He sets Aziraphale on his lap in order to shed his black jacket and underlayer - parallel to Aziraphale setting his vest to the side and pulling off the pale blue shirt beneath it - though while he just tosses his clothes into some unforeseen oblivion, Aziraphale neatly folds his up in his lap and waits for Crowley to finish.

He’s amused by the way Crowley grumbles under his breath when he has to shift Aziraphale’s position once or twice in order to writhe out of his pants, but once he’s finished, Aziraphale is being scooped back into his hands yet again.

“You didn’t strip when I was the one tiny,” Crowley huffs, but Aziraphale just pats Crowley’s hand in faux sympathy, before hesitantly giving up his clothes when Crowley moves to pull them out of the way.

“Careful,” Aziraphale states, as Crowley pinches the tiny clothes between his nails. “I’d hate for the cloth to tear.”

Crowley huffs again, but is careful when setting Aziraphale’s clothes on the arm rest, where they’re at the least risk of being torn or shoved onto the floor.

“Seriously, Crowley,” Aziraphale continues, staring over at his clothes, “I’ve been keeping that coat in tip-top condition for about about a century. I’d hate for anything to happen to it; you know they don’t make coats of that quality anymore-”

Abruptly, Aziraphale is cut off by Crowley pressing an affectionate kiss to his body. Though the action is sudden, it is entirely intentional; Aziraphale can ramble about his clothing another time. Crowley wanted to kiss him now.

Aziraphale flushes under Crowley’s lips, which envelop the entirety of his squishy body, but after a few seconds he’s pushing himself against Crowley’s mouth, even pressing his significantly smaller lips to Crowley’s upper one. It’s a kiss Crowley can just barely feel, but it has Crowley shifting on the cushions nonetheless.

When Crowley pulls away, he sees that Aziraphale looks utterly excited, and - after peeking over the edge of Crowley’s hands to gauge Crowley’s lower half - finds that Crowley is excited too.

Sitting back on his knees, Aziraphale looks back up at Crowley, before promptly asking “what’s next?”

“What’s next?” Crowley repeats, almost dumbfounded. “What’s next. What’s…” Scrambling to clear his throat, Crowley is clearly reaching for an answer, and is unable to grasp one that he’s completely confident in. He could push Aziraphale into his mouth, or he could rub Aziraphale against his cock, but he doesn’t move to do either. He’s completely unsure of how to proceed, and that fact fills his face as he avoids answering the question.

His hesitance allows Aziraphale to interject a suggestion. “How about you lean back and get comfy, my dear,” he proposes. If Crowley needs a little direction, the Aziraphale doesn’t mind helping him! “And then raise me up to your face, if you’d be so kind.”

Crowley lays back against the cushion behind him, wiggling slightly until he’s comfortable, before lifting his palm to his face.

“Wonderful,” Aziraphale praises, causing Crowley’s breath to hitch. “You’re so good at listening, Crowley. Now, if you’d just stick your tongue out, that’d be wonderful.”

Crowley’s lips part, and his tongue rolls out, his warm breath fanning over Aziraphale’s small body, enveloping him in humidity, and with Crowley’s tongue so close, Aziraphale can’t help reaching out to curiously touch it, running his hands over the squishy muscle. His fingers sink into the spit-covered surface before he pulls them up again.

Crowley pants as Aziraphale touches and pokes at his tongue, before suddenly Aziraphale is leaning partially against it. He uses his hands to support himself, before pressing his cock against Crowley’s tongue, rutting against it once just to make sure he can do it in this position, before smiling and looking up at Crowley happily.

“This is perfect,” Aziraphale expresses, rocking his hips, and moaning softly at the feeling. All while Crowley holds him up.

As Aziraphale begins to slowly hump against Crowley’s tongue, Crowley realizes he’s being completely neglected in this exchange. While Aziraphale’s fingers flex against the muscle, Crowley’s own fingers flex around his cock, slowly beginning to stroke his shaft in tune to Aziraphale’s rubbing.

Drool begins to run along the length of Crowley’s mouth, spilling both down his chin and simultaneously beginning to pool in his hand. His eyes are crossed in an attempt to watch Aziraphale.

He feels a little ridiculous, and he’s sure he looks it too, and yet he keeps his tongue out and his hand up.

In order to distract himself from his own thoughts of how silly this must look, he focuses on the way Aziraphale tastes, and frankly it’s ethereal; like milk and honey, albeit diluted by the expected taste of soft flesh.

Still though, Crowley understands completely how Aziraphale had been so casual to push Crowley into his mouth. He’s tempted to draw Aziraphale into his own! But he doesn’t; he keeps his tongue out while stroking his cock slowly.

When Aziraphale’s moaning gets louder, Crowley finally has to tear his eyes away.

“You’re so good, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathes, the quiet praise reaching Crowley’s ears with ease, flooding Crowley’s mind with encouragement to keep being good. Being good for Aziraphale, and Aziraphale only. “I understand why you enjoyed this so much last time!”

Crowley suddenly groans, squeezing his hand around his cock at Aziraphale’s words. Until Aziraphale stumbles away from Crowley’s tongue, and falls back into Crowley’s palm, slipping in the spit and landing on his rear. Shuffling to the edge of Crowley’s hand, Aziraphale watches Crowley’s hand slow in embarrassment.

“Do you need some help down there, Crowley?” Aziraphale asks, and despite his genuine tone, Crowley frowns.

“I don’t need to be callously teased.”

Aziraphale sits back, legs spread, showing off his hard, leaking cock in between his fat, slick thighs, glistening from Crowley’s saliva.

“I wouldn’t tease,” Aziraphale murmurs, rubbing his hand affectionately over Crowley’s thumb. “And I’m not callous.”

Crowley mutters something bitter under his breath, but Aziraphale doesn’t catch it. He’s not too bothered though, and instead smiles as Crowley lowers Aziraphale down to his pelvis. Crowley cringes as Aziraphale slips onto his midsection followed by a few drops of spit, and is quick to wipe his moist hand against the settee when Aziraphale isn’t looking.

Aziraphale shuffles forward to Crowley’s cock, setting a singular hand against it before mumbling “hm. I guess I didn’t fully think about what I was going to do,” as he walks around Crowley’s shaft, being careful of where he steps in order to avoid causing Crowley any discomfort. Crowley is watching him intensely, his breathing hard and audible as Aziraphale’s tiny fingers slide along his length.

Being a few inches smaller than Crowley’s cock reminds Aziraphale that he simply cupped Crowley in his hand last time, but notes that Crowley doesn’t move to do the same. Instead, Crowley’s fingers press excitedly into his thighs, as though needing to hold onto something to keep himself grounded.

After a few moments, Aziraphale wraps his arms around Crowley’s shaft, slowly moving to slide them up and down the flesh while kissing it briefly. As he glances up at Crowley to gauge his reaction, he watches Crowley press his lips together in order to repress a moan, his head falling back against the cushions in hopes of keeping his noises all inside. When Aziraphale squeezes his arms around Crowley’s cock, Crowley properly moans, and then Aziraphale is stepping back a few paces.

He watches as a drop of pre slides down Crowley’s cock and pools at the base.

“Crowley, why don’t you lay back for me? Fully? Get yourself properly comfortable,” Aziraphale offers, and immediately Crowley is looking down at him suspiciously.

“Why?”

Aziraphale smiles sweetly. “Just lie down flat, my dear. It’ll make us both feel better in the long run. Don’t you want to feel good?”

“I suppose,” Crowley mumbles.

He sets a careful hand behind Aziraphale in case his movement knocks Aziraphale off balance, and stretches across the settee. He props his shoulders and upper back against one of the armrests, while his feet barely touch the other end. As Aziraphale glances to look at Crowley’s clothes, he gives a quick reminder of “don’t knock my clothes off!” which has Crowley grumbling under his breath but being more mindful of where he positions his soles.

“Good job,” Aziraphale praises, albeit more teasing this time. “You’re such a good listener, dear. And in this position, I can do this…”

Aziraphale scoots forward, and uses his hands to sort of push Crowley’s shaft until Aziraphale can scoot his body onto it. It’s a weird feeling for both of them - Aziraphale straddling Crowley’s cock - but as Aziraphale’s chubby body experimentally grinds over it, both of them moan and simultaneously decide this is much better. However, even though it feels good, Aziraphale stills his hips in order to properly admire Crowley’s face.

Crowley’s brows are creased in pleasure, his eyes pressed lightly shut and his teeth gritted and he sucks in air between them. However, noticing Aziraphale’s lack of movement, Crowley opens an eye to peer at him.

“Well?” Crowley mithers, “get on with it already.”

“That’s not how you ask, is it now?” Aziraphale promptly replies, with a dramatic huff. “Honestly, Crowley, you could stand to be a bit more polite.”

“Oh, shut it.”

Aziraphale ruts his hips against Crowley’s cock briefly, before stopping again. “I’m serious, Crowley. How about you practice your manners and say please?”

“Please?”

“‘Please pleasure me Aziraphale,’ perhaps.”

Crowley huffs, and turns his head to the side. “I don’t need to ask you to do anything.”

“Sure you don’t. But you want to, don’t you?” Aziraphale runs his hands up Crowley’s shaft, rubbing over the slick surface and ever so slightly humps against it. He moans shamelessly, before stopping, denying both himself and Crowley pleasure since Crowley doesn’t want to be nice. “Don’t you want to be nice and good and ask politely? It’ll truly make both of us feel so much better, Crowley.”

“I could just grab you and use you myself.”

"You could... so why haven't you?"

Crowley stares at Aziraphale for a moment, before turning his head to the side and bitterly muttering expletives under his breath, the likes of which have Aziraphale flushing. Still though, he doesn't move to touch Aziraphale at all, and instead mumbles "canyoupleasepleasureme."

Aziraphale scoots forward - passing it off as him trying to lean towards Crowley - and goes "what was that, love? I couldn't quite hear you over your pride."

Crowley groans, before gritting out "can you please pleasure me?"

"There we go!" Aziraphale claps, before humping more casually against Crowley's cock. "You're so good! Doesn't it feel good to be polite?"

Crowley bitterly mumbles something, but Aziraphale lets it slide. He did say please, after all, and Aziraphale would be staying true to his word. He'll make them both feel good, which is something he's admittedly incredibly excited to do.

Flexing his fingers against Crowley's shaft, Aziraphale leans forward a bit to brace himself, before sliding his hips up and down Crowley's cock, grinding his own cock against it and making him moan. He's slow with his movement, but loud with his noises, and manages to keep his eyes open in order to watch Crowley press his knuckles to his mouth in order to stifle his own sounds of pleasure.

Crowley shifts slightly, making Aziraphale gasp, before lightly chastising him with "careful, Crowley. You'll knock me off if you're too rough," and listens as Crowley groans and tries to keep himself still.

Crowley's nails pierce the settee's cushions, clawing into them as he moans against his hand.

Aziraphale's eyes are focused intensely on him, using both his hands and his lower half to rub against Crowley's cock, watching as pre spills out of it and against Crowley's chest, which is already glistening with sweat.

Face flushes, Aziraphale continues filling the hot air between them with praise and encouragement.

Each whisper of "you're so good," is met with Crowley's eyes squeezing tightly shut, and each moan of Crowley's name has Crowley fighting to keep his hips still. The urge to buck them up and against Aziraphale is ever present, and yet he knows that his angel would go flying if he did.

"Angel," Crowley breathes, voice muffled. "Angel."

"Yes, Crowley?" Aziraphale pants, feeling sweat trickle down his face and off his round body. "I'm right here, love. Do you feel good? Are you feeling good?"

Crowley doesn't answer him, and Aziraphale doesn't need him too. Crowley's red face says enough about how he's feeling, and watching his brows crease in pleasure, relax, and then crease again with each shift of Aziraphale's hips make Aziraphale feel hot. He likes knowing he's making Crowley feel good, and he can tell right now that Crowley feels great.

Aziraphale's cock twitches as his body is overwhelmed by intense heat. His own pre is spilling beneath him, dripping onto Crowley's shaft onto to be quickly rubbed over and smeared by Aziraphale's thighs. He leans forward more in order to get a better position, and begins humping faster, thrusting his cock more feverishly against Crowley's.

In response, Crowley's head falls back against the armrest, a choked out moan coming from his mouth, and a more gritted cry of "angel!"

"So good," Aziraphale stammers, his own eyes fluttering shut. Shaky breaths are sucked in and shivering moans come out as the pads of Aziraphale's fingers press into Crowley's cock. "So... so good."

Aziraphale's close, and he knows it, and he knows Crowley is as well. He can see Crowley fighting to hold back his orgasm, presumably waiting for Aziraphale to finish first, though it could also be to spare himself the embarrassment of admitting just how good someone so tiny is making him feel.

Either way, Aziraphale encourages him to come. "You deserve it, Crowley; you've done so well," he says, and watches Crowley bite his finger to keep himself quiet. And yet, a groan slips past Crowley's lips.

Trembling slightly, Aziraphale continues. "I'm close too. You feel so good, Crowley. You've been doing so well. Please..."

Aziraphale's head falls, panting heavily as his own orgasm builds rapidly within him. And, well, Aziraphale's never been the greatest at resisting temptation, so he welcomes his climax rather happily. He humps against Crowley's cock as warmth builds and builds before relief floods over him, and his head is falling back as he moans. He comes onto Crowley's cock, smearing it around while rutting against the shaft through his orgasm, before he comes to a meek stop.

His arms shake as he leans over, hands petting over Crowley's shaft as he whispers "come on, Crowley, you're so good," his words so soft they barely reach Crowley's ears.

But Crowley had heard him come, and he'd lifted his head to watch the tiny mess be made, and curses at the display, before groaning quietly as Aziraphale once more begins slowly grinding against him, no doubt in an attempt to help Crowley come as well. But Crowley doesn't need his help with just how close he is, and so with just a few small movements of Aziraphale's body Crowley is coming too, his hand clamped over his mouth but moaning into it nonetheless.

He makes a mess of his own pelvis and chest, but doesn't seem to mind much, and instead rests back against the settee once he's achieved blissful relief.

As he pants, he feels Aziraphale shifting on his cock, and so Crowley cracks an eye open to peer at him, before leaning up slightly in order to cup Aziraphale in his hand.

"Watch it," Crowley mutters, as he lifts Aziraphale off his cock. "Lest you want to rouse me up again."

"I truthfully wouldn't mind," Aziraphale replies, as Crowley brings him closer. Crowley's nose scrunches up in disgust once he sees Aziraphale's lower half is smeared with his own semen.

Aziraphale chuckles at his dramatic reaction. "I know, I know. I'm messy. Won't you clean me off so I don't accidentally stain my clothes?"

"I don't want to get up and grab a cloth."

"Who said anything about grabbing a cloth? You have a tongue, don't you? You had no qualms about licking over me before." Aziraphale motions to himself. "What's the harm in doing it now? Is a little mess that big of a deterrent?"

Crowley frowns at Aziraphale's suggestion, but still forces himself to sit up slightly in order to run his tongue over Aziraphale, who chuckles softly at the feeling of Crowley's tongue running between his legs and over his lower half, even letting out a slightly oversensitive moan as the muscle rubs over his spent cock, before Crowley's pulling away, face red.

"There. Don't expect anymore favors though," Crowley states, laying back down and dumping Aziraphale onto his chest. Aziraphale laughs at Crowley's scrunched countenance, but relaxes against the latter's chest regardless, allowing himself to enjoy Crowley's warmth for just a bit. He'll get back to organizing his books sometime later.

#ineffable husbands smut #aziracrow #aziracrow smut #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens smut #agp smut #g/t #micro/macro

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symphonic-scream · 1 year ago

Text

Okay. P4 Apocalypse Au

Spoilers for P4! SPECIFICALLY LIKE. ENDGAME SHIT. LIKE NOVEMBER AND STUFF

Okay that's out of the way

Let's get into it

Plot summary first then any notes I've sent to my buddy Cap. Cause that poor guy is suffering through my ADHD meds shortage

Okay. Okay. Let's go.

It's. Based on the bits about the Inaba in the TV. With the "shadows" coming out of everywhere, the town in ruins

The gang and any Inaba survivors holed up in the school, since it has a gate. They reinforced it. Barred access to the roof as a precaution. The black puddles don't take shape unless you run into them, but. They can't be certain

The windows in the classrooms are always shut. It's clear inside, but every time the door opens, dense fog leaks in

Everyone's scuffed up. Looking worse for wear

They make trips out, in groups. Most of the time? The groups make it back. They see remains of unfortunate people all the time now. Strung in the wires, dead on the ground, etc

They've stocked up on stuff from Junes. It wasn't save to stay when the power left, but the school is old enough

So mainly it's Junes runs, for nonperishable foods. There's plants growing in the practice building, where they cook meals and such

Each classroom is a sleeping quarters now. Sometimes, people notice others going between the rooms at night for comfort. They say nothing

On their first excursion, Yu, Chie, Yosuke, and Yukiko find Teddie in Junes, banishing a shadow somehow. The gang wants to know how he killed it for good, since their weapons barely Nick them. They take Teddie back with them, partially as extra hands to carry more goods back

Teddie can, grant them the blessings of Light on their weapons for limited times. They can finally kill the shadows, but only by engaging in actual combat. It's dangerous. But, to save everyone, they decide to do it.

So, they start midnight secret kill runs. To rid the town of shadows. When their families think they're asleep, they go to scavenge for upgrades and kills

They save Kanji soon after. Find him holed up in his house, struggling to keep his Ma alive

They offer to carry her back, but he wants more. To kill the things that nearly took her. They let Kanji join in

Then, they find Rise. She's running down the road, definitely on her last ounce of strength, being chased. She's run halfway from the city, when her manager's car broke down and was overrun. She's. In dire need of help

Rise can see through the fog, and offers to be their eyes from above. They sneak her up to the roof at night, with a walkie and binoculars.

She tells them what's around them, which streets are overrun vs nearly empty

Then, Naoto.

The government tries to send a police brigade to help but. They get seiged. Naoto had been brought along to get him out of the hair of the city cops. Under the excuse that he'd be smart enough to save Inaba

So. He watches everyone around him fall and he's got just his gun, climbing into a tree near the Samegawa and shooting, until he's got nothing left

Tears fall down his face as they bang at the base of the tree. In the end, he's still just a kid,

The others rush out. Drive the hoard away, and get Naoto into the school. He's shaken up, won't talk for a week. But, hes determined to help. He thinks there might be something that can help at the Shirogane estate and guides them through the labyrinth of a building

To the secret lab beneath. Naoto offers to run tests on what they find and stuff to find answers

So. Some nights they kill, some nights they take Naoto to the estate for tests

Rise goes with them to the estate. She wanders through the old rooms and finds an old cat doll under Naoto's bed. She surprises him with it that night when they return to the school

Okay. Splitting here! Extra under the cut!

You can talk to me about this or any au I have I'm always around :)

There's one room in the school that most people pity. The room for those without family. Rise, Kanji, Naoto, etc

Naoto likes to lie down under the teachers desk. Rise lies down just outside it, watching Naoto slowly breathe at night

Kanji sleeps right nearby to protect them both.

Yu and Yosuke's families are in the same room. Yukiko and Chie's are nextdoor

Chie's stupid dog is also there, he's kept in the gym with the other pets

Naoto sometimes keeps Rise company on the roof. The gang find him a sniper rifle from the site of the cops deaths. He cleans it with extreme care, and lies down in position, his elbow just beside Rise's leg, so they can feel the warmth

Rise: they're going to need assistance, Naokun. Three clicks up, ten left from position J

Naoto: affirmative.

Naoto can't see where he's shooting. He trusts Rise's instructions and shoots just as she instructs.

She's never guided him wrong

One night in the lab, Naoto gets frustrated. He's getting nowhere it seems, and he throws his goggles, crying in frustration as he tries to get his labcoat off

Rise is the only one still in the lab, and she tries to calm him down, but. He's shouting and won't listen, so

She just kisses him to shut him up

Naoto freezes and stares.

Rise pulls away, tears forming in her own eyes. Stares.

They crash together, Naoto walking Rise back until she's sitting on one of the desks, hands in his hair, one of his near her knee, the other wrapped around her waist

They make out. It's, sloppy. Emotional. Not the greatest

That night they both sleep under the desk. They don't talk about it. But Rise feels safer in his arms. Naoto doesn't feel so cold and alone with her

Rise sometimes shivers up on the roof in the fog. Naoto's jacket is often thrown around her shoulders

Naoto: I. Don't mind being me so much when it's with you. I, I'm not quite a boy. Not quite a girl. But. I feel I don't need an answer when it's just me and you

Rise: that's cause you don't. We're just Naoto and Rise. Whoever they may be

Yosuke: yo Rise how's that chick we saved?

Rise: Naoto wants to be called 'he' for now

Yosuke: what

Kanji: YEAH. HER PRONOUNS ARE HE THEY BUT JUST CALL HIM A DUDE

Naoto looks so small behind the two of them, still bandaged up and unable to bind in his condition

Naoto: Kanji? Rise? I require assistance getting back to my futon,

Kanji: on it, little man. Let's get you to bed

Rise: rest time! You won't recover if you push yourself!

Yosuke: what just happened

Yu: another dude joins our team

Naoto's first time at the estate and he goes to his bedroom and finds his first binder

"Shoot... It's too small now,,"

"Hey, uh, I can make ya a new one. If I can find the material."

"...thanks Kanji, that means a lot"

They don't have clothes that fit Naoto for a while. They take some of his father's old stuff back from the estate and Kanji has to hem them all so Naoto doesn't look like a child playing dress up

Rise: there, all handsome

Kanji: does that uh, liner fit? I wasn't sure with the pattern, but-

Naoto: it's very comfortable, thank you Kanji. I feel much better in these clothes,

Rise: you look much better too

Naoto: a-ah. Thank you

Kanji: yo, you two cuddling?

Rise: Kanji! Leave us alone, can't you see we're having a moment?

Naoto: do you, want to join?

Kanji: yeah. I like keeping you two safe. I'll block out the world for a bit.

Rise: ...you can be pretty okay sometimes

Kanji: yeah yeah. Huddle in, Ma tells me I'm warm as shit

Naoto, his girlfriend, and the guy that also cuddles with them at night without being romantically involved

Their platonic buddy that keeps the world away when they're all sleeping. The big safety Teddie bear

Kanji's always in the infirmary checking on his Ma. Rise stares at the old fire alarms, occasionally pulling them and pouting when no alarm sounds. Naoto bunkers down in the library, between big hefty chemistry textbooks, town legends, and biology

Naoto: Rise.

Rise: ah! Hi, what's up? Missed me that much~?

Naoto: come with me to the library if possible. I find, it easier to focus when I know you're safe

Rise: hey. I'm not going anywhere, you hear? I'm making it out to see the sunshine again, to be able to go to the beach with everyone and relax. We all promised.

Naoto: I know...

Rise: so?

Naoto: but, I care for you more than I've cared for anyone in a long time... It would be easy on my own. If I failed, only I would suffer. But knowing your life is on the line-

Rise: it's not all resting on you. If you don't find a solution, the others will kill them all. We've witnessed less and less since we started. That's proof! We just have to keep pushing

Naoto: right. Right. As long as I've got you to keep me from falling into my head, we can't lose

Rise: *giggling* that's right! Now, you wanted to read? Hope you won't mind me sneaking in some kisses~

Naoto always has dark circles under his eyes. He looks almost gastly the day after trips to the estate. Pale, tired, trudging to the library, having to be dragged to meals

Rise always looks. Hollow. She can see through the fog, and. She doesn't see it as anything but a curse

She likes to dote on Naoto. It gives her a daily purpose. And fuck, Naoto needs it. Someone to take care of him for once,

Rise: WHERES NAOTO

Yu: is he not in the library?

Kanji: NO, HE ISNT, OTHERWISE WE WOULDNT BE FUKCING LOSING IT TRYNA FIND HIM!

Chie: I saw him an hour ago with that detective guy, Adachi? They went out to talk in the yard...

Yukiko: but I saw Adachi a minute ago, walking back in alone?

Yosuke: you dont mean...

Rise: IF NAOTO'S OUT THERE ALONE, WE NEED TO FIND HIM

Adachi told Naoto Nanako ran away to find her mom.

Adachi had knocked out Nanako and out her in the old Dojima house. He knows Naoto is close to the truth and is trying to get rid of him and make Dojima useless

The others rush through town, finding Naoto's hat and ripped jacket on the way. And blood

They find him inside the Dojima house, holding his sleeve to his gut, slowly bleeding as he shoots the shadows back. Nanako lies in the room behind him, safe but still out

Naoto: you, you came?

Yu: Adachi tricked you. For some reason, he wanted you dead

Naoto: that, bastard,

Kanji: quick, we need to get him and Nanako back before he bleeds out. Or worse, Rise has a heart attack

Naoto: Rise,, tell her, I'm sorry,

Yosuke: TELL HER YOURSELF COWARD, YOU'RE MAKJNG IT THROUGH THIS

Naoto is out for two weeks. Nanako is back at it after a few days. Yu grabbed Dojimas handcuffs as they left the house and they've kept Adachi chained to a bar ever since

Naoto wakes slowly. Pale, anemic still, dizzy. Rise is resting her head on his belly. Kanji is asleep in the visitor chair. The others are scattered around the room

Naoto: owe,

Rise: you stupid idiot,

Naoto: is Nanako okay?

Dojima enters the room and just. Thanks Naoto. So sincerely. But also calls him stupid

Rise: you're so smart,,

Naoto: we are making out. Is this, what they call the "sensual speak?"

Rise: no I'm complimenting you. Ugh, forget it. Kiss me again

Naoto: I need to work, Rise,

Rise: push me away then

Naoto:

Rise: that's what I thought. The fog will still be there the next time we come here, but we're both herw right now...

Naoto: not too much, the others are still in the estate somewhere, Rise -

Rise just keeps kissing them, and kissing them, and kissing them-

Rise: hey. Once everyone's asleep tomorrow, meet me at the old sewing room in the practice building. It's where they keep the spare futons

Naoto: why

Rise: I think you can guess why

Naoto: what

Rise: *wink* special alone time,,

Naoto: ...WAIT DO YOU MEAN SEX

Rise; you're so dense for someone so smart,

Naoto: uhm- I er-

Rise; we don't have to. But. I do want some time with just me and you, no chance of interruptions or the smell of chemicals

The morning they wake up in the sewing room, Naoto feels. Rested. His whole body feels, like he rested on clouds. The triple stack of futons probably helped

But he looks down and sees Rise's messy hair, her peaceful, sleeping face, pressed into his shoulder. He can feel her just. Wrapped around him all tight, hugging him in her sleep. He carefully moves her bangs aside, smiling at the little pout on her lips as sleep starts to fade

"Naokun,,"

"Hey, morning. Sleep well?"

"Mmmm, the best~"

"we need to get up soon, before someone finds us here."

"Mm, but I wanna rest some more,, can we go sleep under our desk some more?"

"I suppose it won't hurt. Now come on, let's find our clothes"

Rise swipes the button up Naoto had been wearing. Does up just enough buttons to be passable

Naoto: ...oh god your neck,

Rise: I wanna show it off! You're quite passionate

Naoto: let's hurry back before someone sees us,

Kanji is still asleep when they slip under the desk. Rise cuddles right back into Naoto, falling asleep almost immediately

He lies there for a bit, just watching her

Rise: you're stronger now than when we first rescued you... You were like a twig then

Naoto: thanks, I think

Rise remembers seeing, from the rooftop, the shaking little body in the tree. She can't believe it's the same guy that's curled up with her now, making that spot under the desk feel like the safest place in the universe

She remembers sitting at his bedside, spoon feeding him soup and vitamins when he could barely sit up himself

The hollow, dead look on those blue eyes

Rise: hey there, you're awake! You had us scared for a moment there! What's your name?

Naoto: I'm. Naoto Shirogane.

Rise: huh, that sounds like a guys name!

Naoto: I. I'd prefer to be addressed, as such.

Rise: huh? But- ...I don't understand it, but if it's what you want, I'll follow. So. You're a guy?

Naoto: maybe. I'm, not sure.

Rise: ...that makes two of us. A-anyways! More people will wanna talk to you later, rest up Naoto!

Naoto lying on the roof in sniper position, listening to Rise hum. He can't see anything through the sights but blurry fog. She can see the Horrors of what's beyond the school gates, so she reaches over. Pulls his hat off to play with his hair

Naoto: Rise?

Rise: please. I'll give it back if you need to take a shot. Just. Let me-

Naoto pushes himself up to give her a sound kiss

"Hey. You're doing great, being the strong one sucks I know. But you can use me to hold you up. Figuratively."

#p4 apocalypse au #naoto shirogane #yu narukami #yosuke hanamura #chie satonaka #yukiko amagi #kanji tatsumi #teddie #rise kujikawa #naorise

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alexanderlightweight · 2 years ago

Note

hello! Because you've brought up the idea a few times...

Prompt: magnus gouges someone's eye(s) out

(Typing this made me realize that this may be too dark, if so please ignore!)

here we go, uh. this has a very obvious and specific kind of violence so like. please proceed with caution anyone who reads.

spoils of war verse!

also anon this was absolutely fine!

lumine

“And who said—” Magnus asks calmly as he rests the pointed metal of his clawed ring delicately against the whites of the seelie’s eye, “that you could look so closely at my boy?”

Alexander is still and quiet on the other side of Magnus and he’s watching Magnus intently, which means he’s trying to figure out how exactly Magnus views him.

If Magnus lets this go, it could take months for Alexander to accept that Magnus actually values him and what kind of husband would Magnus be, to let such an insult go.

“He’s just a pawn, your Highness.” The seelie whispers, “I wasn’t looking at him. I was admiring the cloak he isn’t fit to wear.”

Magnus chuckles and motions for Alexander to come closer to him and he does, obedient but wary.

There’s a distrust in his eyes, as if he thinks this is the moment when Magnus decides he’s had his fun and is done keeping his boy close and protected.

Magnus nearly coos at him, but instead he crooks his free fingers, and the cloak moves from Alexander’s shoulders to instead fall into a heap on the ground. One walks through this path barefoot and Magnus smirks at the knight who was supposed to be their guide, the claw of his ring tapping delicately against the seelie’s sclera.

“Your feet seem cold, Alexander. Come stand by me, the feathers will keep you warm.”

There is disbelief in the seelie’s face and a pause before Alexander steps even closer and stands once again within Magnus’ reach, feet covered by the cloak.

“It does not matter why you looked at him.” Magnus tells the knight with a cruel, vengeful smirk. “It only matters that you did. I warned you, to keep your eyes to yourself lest you lose them.”

Magnus uses magic to hold the seelie still, the flames of Edom rising up around him and disintegrating the plants that try to protect the knight. Alexander is still beside him, and Magnus can feel how he tenses, how his body moves automatically into a defensive stance.

Magnus wishes he could see Alexander but instead, he’s dealing with someone not worthy of living.

It’s with disdain that Magnus digs the point of his ring into the curve of the eye, and he hooks into it with magic, pulling it free with a loud, violent pop. It’s audible even over the seelie’s screams and Magnus sighs and pats the seelie’s cheek with his soaked hand after he crushes the orb in his hand.

“If only you hadn’t looked at him.” Magnus murmurs to the incoherent, wailing man, “you could have lived.”

Magic claims the second eye, pulling it free from the socket with a wet grind and since it’s intact, Magnus flicks it to his laboratory. Perhaps he will make Alexander a present with it, as an apology for such an unsightly display for his boy’s first trip to the seelie world as Magnus’ consort and husband.

It’s almost an afterthought, to use magic to pluck the seelie’s heart from his chest and even before he throws up a magical barrier, feathers are blocking Magnus from the gore of his kill. For a moment he thinks Alexander’s used the cloak, before he realizes it’s Alexander’s wings.

They’re gorgeous and Magnus regrets not insisting on seeing them the first time he claimed his boy.

“Alexander, you shouldn’t have.” He chides gently and he uses magic to clean away the mess and he reaches out, running his fingers over the closest feathers and chuckling when they flutter against his touch. “You didn’t need to get dirty.”

Magnus has never touched a nephilim’s wings with anything other than violence and, with Alexander’s feet kept warm by the trophies of a thousand corpses, Magnus keeps his movements soft. He’s indescribably tender as he gently pets his fingers over Alexander’s gorgeous plumage.

“How can I ever take you anywhere?” Magnus asks absently, “I’ll have to leave massacres in our wake and then where will we be?”

Alexander gives him a pleased, endeared look and shifts closer, his wings brushing up against Magnus. They’re delightfully soft and deceptively strong and Magnus carefully burrows his fingers through the thick, soft feathers at the base.

“You didn’t need to kill him.” Alexander tells him with a sigh as he looks at the remains of their guide. “It’s nothing I didn’t expect.”

“The queen’s pride and joy of a knight shouldn’t have been so insulting.” Magnus reminds him, “why should I suffer my treasured consort to be demeaned? Why should you expect to be insulted, Alexander. Does a king not protect his consort?”

Alexander sends him a searching, curious glance but he stays silent and for now Magnus allows it.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #spoils of war #malec #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters au #my fics #my fanfics #my ficlets

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flamehairedwritings · 1 year ago

Text

Stray: Chapter Seven

Characters: Lt. Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader

Rating: E, 18+ ONLY

Words: 10.5k

Summary: Ghost has a fine time making you admit you need want him.

A/N: Chapter Seven of Seven, the true finale. <3

Entire Story Tags: hurt/comfort, angst, enemies are lovers, porn with plot, they're not nice people, but are they

Chapter Tags: Fighting, shooting, explosions, guns, fire, blood, talk of murdering, death, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

Read on AO3

Stray Masterlist

Please don’t copy or steal my work, and please don’t post it on any other sites. I do not consent to my work being used for AI purposes.

─

Chapter Seven ─ The Manor

Three Weeks Later

Large bronze bowls line the long driveway, fire crackling within them. They stretch on, reaching right from the high gates to the grand manor at the end, which itself is illuminated by them and lights planted into the ground before it.

Newly released and vintage cars roll up in a neat, single file, people adorned in jewels and expensive fabrics stepping out of them so a valet can swiftly drive the cars away to the underground garage. It leaves the guests to move along the red carpet and up the steps to the huge, open oak front doors, where their names are checked and they are then welcomed in.

The security scanners are hidden by garlands of the finest and freshest flowers, cut and arranged that morning, though weapons are handed over before guests pass through.

Gianni rolls his eyes good-naturedly before lifting his suit jacket, revealing he has nothing on him before raising his eyebrows as he looks at you. Or, more specifically, at the silk gown you wear, the material gathered at one side of your waist and falling down to graze the floor.

“You manage to hide the bazooka in there, amore mio?”

You laugh, pulling an equally good-natured face. “Not this time, darling.”

The security guards laugh, too, as they allow you through, your arm looping through Gianni’s. You smile warmly as he nods and smiles at those you pass, murmuring their names into your ear, sometimes just to remind you. He leads you straight to a drinks table rather than over to talk to anyone, though, and you leave your warmest smile for him as he passes you a glass of champagne.

“Amore mio,” he murmurs as he clinks his glass against yours. “To us.”

Your smile widens, affection pure and bare in your gaze, and you place a hand on the back of his neck, your fingers gently caressing.

“To us.”

As his arm settles around your waist, you lean your head against his shoulder, both of you gazing at the other guests. You’re in the main, grand foyer where you’d all been told tonight's celebrations would begin, and heavily-vetted servers wander through the crowd, offering canapes and drinks. The marble floor has been polished to perfection, the garlands continue throughout the space, lights hidden amongst them twinkling, and people laugh and embrace each other.

You raise your glass and smile at those who meet your gaze, until it finally comes to Francesco Vitale, who’s laughing with his brother and wife, telling a story that they all seem to know very well but love regardless.

His wife notices the pair of you and beams, waving enthusiastically. You laugh softly as Gianni smiles, and Francesco lifts his hands as he grins, beckoning you both over.

“Here we go…” Gianni murmurs, his hand sliding into yours as you start to head over.

You’re just smiling, beaming.

His family adores you.

They’re delighted you’re here, clearly, delighted they can bring you into the fold.

Not fully yet, of course, but enough. No business is to be spoken of tonight unless behind closed doors, but they’re all here. Every single member.

Your smile lingers as your gaze drifts across the room.

Every single one.

—

Guards cover the expansive garden, patrolling, only some stood by the walls of the manor, some sat by the pool, having a sneaky game of cards. Every now and then he hears a radio when a guard draws closer, but they never come close enough.

Standing hidden in the treeline, Ghost watches them, watches the bright lights that illuminate the building, the routes of entry they show.

He hears someone approach from behind, but doesn’t move, eyes flicking from balcony to balcony.

Soap clears his throat quietly, clasping his hands together as he stands beside him. “I know why you don’t want me in there, but can ye at least reconsider takin’ someone?”

“No. It needs to be just one of us. Just me.”

He doesn’t look at Soap, but hears him clear his throat again.

“Right. Cameras have been intercepted. They won’t see ye comin’.”

“Cheers.” Looking to Soap, he raises his eyebrows. “If this goes tits up, don’t bother with a funeral.”

Soap snorts. “Ye think they’d bother givin’ any of us one?”

“They told me they would me. I’m special.”

Soap’s chuckle follows quietly after him as he moves down the grass, keeping low and out of the lights. He has to time it right, has to reach the section of wall he’s chosen just as the guard to the right turns…

When the man does, he breaks into a sprint. Using a window sill as leverage, he vaults up and grips onto the bottom of a railing before hauling himself up onto it. Crouching, he peers through the glass door into a dark room. Finding it empty, he waits until the guards playing the game below laugh and cheer, and then uses his gloved fist to smash the glass—

It doesn’t break.

What the fuck.

Shaking his hand out, he presses his lips together.

Fucking hell.

Looking at the keyhole, he sighs quietly.

The old fucking fashioned way, then.

Using a knife, it doesn’t take him long to unlock it, and he pushes the door open, glancing about the room again before he steps through. Closing it behind himself, he straightens, keeping his eyes on the room.

It’s a library of some kind, armchairs here and there, a huge fuck-off fire place, though he doubts much reading gets done here.

Heading to the door, he listens, then opens it. The hallway is empty, clear. He can faintly hear the party coming from the floor below, voices and music muffled. He waits a beat, then—

He frowns as he notices a trail of clear liquid that runs down the corridor, covering the wooden floor.

What the fuck… Has someone pissed here?

It doesn’t smell like it, it smells… clinical.

Maybe a cleaner had been careless.

Pushing it aside for now, he listens, hears no one approach, and then he moves, swift and quiet down the hallway, avoiding the liquid.

The first guard he comes across he kills swiftly. The second spots him a split second before he attacks, but he goes down easily. The third goes like the first. The fourth and fifth put up a good fight together, but the music from the party below drowns them out, and they were too proud and arrogant to reach for their radios.

Moving down a dark landing, he pauses by a door, sounds coming from it, but swiftly realises it’s just two people having sex. Maybe three.

He’s about to move forward when he hears voices coming up a side stairwell.

Dropping back, he crouches by the railing at the corner, hidden, eyes fixed on the stairs.

A small group emerges, men talking quietly together, smiling, and he notes Francesco amongst them.

Not who he’s here for. Not today.

He stares at him, though, stares at the smiling fucker and all his mates.

His smile is reminiscent of Angelo’s; easy, arrogant, cuntish.

Watching them enter a room, he waits until the door is closed before he turns his radio on, murmurs the location of the room into it, and then switches it off.

And he continues on.

Heading down the back stairs to the ground floor, he steps off the last step and he’s about to head round closer to the party to find a place to hide and observe, when he notices a slight bulging in the curtain at the window in front of him.

… Right…

Moving closer, he reaches out and swiftly tugs it aside… and exhales a breath.

A guard sits on the floor, blood dripping from his throat, dead.

Fuck…

Pressing his lips together, he looks left down the hallway then right, and sees a door just slightly ajar, at the very end.

He sees something else, too; another fine layer of clear liquid leading from the guard’s body to that door.

Dropping the curtain and adjusting it to cover the body, he then moves down towards the door, one hand hovering near his gun, just in case.

Leaning back against the wall beside it, he nudges the door open a little more, revealing a stone stairwell that leads down into darkness.

… Right.

Taking a last look down the hallway, he then heads through the door, pulling it quietly shut behind him, and moves down the stairs.

He goes slowly, knowing any little sound will echo here, though he can’t hear a thing from below just yet. Maybe he’s just wasting his fucking time, maybe a server or guest had left it open by accident and—

A muffled crash echoes up the stairs.

He pauses, eyes on the darkness.

Nothing.

He starts moving again, only pausing for a moment when another crash comes, a little louder. And then he sees it; a small, flickering light.

It grows larger as the crashing sounds grow louder, until, finally, he reaches the bottom step.

Entering the cellar, barrels line either side of the walkway before him, and right at the end of it, a warm light glows from behind a door left ajar.

The crashing sound comes from within. No, more like smashing.

Glass breaking.

It’s slow, nearly rhythmic.

Smash. Beat. Smash. Beat. Smash. Beat.

Placing his hand on his gun, he approaches the door.

Moving to one side of it, the side that’s ajar, he leans back against the wall, and tries to peer in. A figure moves within, sometimes blocking the light that shines into his eyes. Blinking against it, he tries to focus on the person, but the light is too bright, and the door isn’t open enough.

Pressing his lips together, he removes the gun from its holster and, with his other hand, carefully and quietly tugs the door open a little more—

He stills.

Your back is to him.

His chest tightens.

Your hand reaches out every other moment, taking bottles of wine, whiskey and vodka from the rows and rows of shelves.

And you drop them onto the floor.

Moving to another row, rounding a wooden table, your heels crunch the shards to finer pieces, and his gaze drops to them.

He knows those heels.

Hello, old friends.

Eyes trailing up from them, up your long, silk, green dress, up your back to your head, he quietly holsters his gun.

You inhale a breath as you glance over the label of a bottle before dropping it, feeling the red liquid bathe your feet as it smashes beside them.

What next…

“Well, that’s a waste.”

You spin, glass crunching beneath you.

Ghost stands in the doorway, filling it, his head bowing slightly so he can fit.

Of course.

You’re unsurprised, but still feel irritation prickling at you.

“I promise they won’t be.”

Turning back to the shelf, you pull out another bottle and drop it.

As it smashes, he takes a step forward, and pulls the door shut behind him. As you withdraw a bottle, he pulls the bolt across it, locking it.

You pause, head turning, eyes darting to him.

He lifts his hands in a small gesture of peace before folding his arms. “I did that so we won’t have any surprises, not to trap you in here with me.”

“Right.” You drop the bottle, pull out another. “Why are you here, Ghost.”

“I think you can guess.”

You drop it. You pull out another.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You hear him exhale a quiet breath. “I’m here to bring you in.”

“Right.” You look over at him. “Plenty of opportunities to have done that before now.”

“Two birds, one stone kind of night. We’re gathering evidence of Francesco’s and the family’s dealings, too.”

“Right. Busy night.”

You drop another bottle.

His eyes haven’t moved from you. “What are you doing?”

You inspect the next shelf for bottles at the back, removing a vintage whisky. “I’m going to burn this place and everyone in it to the ground.”

He exhales another breath. “I can’t let you do that.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

You drop the bottle.

“Stray, I…” He presses his lips together, but anger doesn’t lace his tone as he says, “Can you look at me, please?”

You don’t, half-reading a label for the alcohol percentage with your back to him.

And he looks at you, the curves of your shoulders, neck and arms. He thinks about how he feels in that room, looking at you, having you close again, finally.

Being with you.

Licking your lips, you drop the bottle by your side, tilting your head back to look at a shelf above. The bleach you’d been able to find in one of the bathrooms had sufficed for the upper levels, but it felt fitting to use Francesco's lovingly curated cellar to start the blaze. Only the very old and high percentage stuff, though, the random cheap shit could be left alone.

You just about manage to ignore Ghost’s eyes on you. He’ll either do his best to take you in, and you can hate him all over again and rage and scream, or he’ll try and talk you down.

You don’t fancy his chances with either. And there’s nothing else he can d—

“Stray, I’m sorry.”

You still.

The words had been quiet.

Staring at the shelf, your jaw moves slightly.

“It’s no use trying to stall me, Ghost.”

You hear him shift, release a breath that sounds both weary and resigned. “I’m not… I’m not trying to fucking stall you, Stray, I mean it. I’m sorry.”

Your tongue runs along your teeth. “For what?”

You wait for the silence, for the sigh, for the empty words, for th—

“For betraying you. For not… trusting you.” He shifts a little, clears his throat. “I should’ve, I fucked it, I know I did. I knew it then and I’m sorry I didn’t say it. I need you to know, though, that I didn’t mean it. What I sent to Vitale. I didn’t mean I was done with you or that… I didn’t mean to imply you meant nothing. To me. Well, I did, but to him, not to you, you weren’t meant to see those. I wanted to make the cunt angry, and Soap was supposed to be there, I promise you he was, but…” He clears his throat again. “That doesn’t matter ‘cause I should’ve told you. You put your trust in us, in me, and I… I let you down.”

Let you down.

It was such simple phrasing.

But the simplicity of it… the normality of it… Your vision is starting to blur slightly as tears come suddenly.

And he continues.

“I didn’t want to do that, Stray. I…” You hear him shift again. “Since then I can’t stop thinking about how you were lookin’ at me. About how you must’ve felt. You should’ve torn me apart. I wouldn’t’ve blamed you.”

You’re silent, gaze fixed on the shelf.

And he continues.

“This… thing we have, had, you and I… I’m not good at it. I don’t think I’m made for it. But with you… When I was with you… When we had our times together… It felt… good.” He clears his throat once more. “Feels shit that we don’t have it anymore. And I know that’s ‘cause of me. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for causing you to have to go back to him. I’m sorry he hurt you… and that it was because of me.”

You’re silent.

And he continues.

“I hate that he was the better option than me. But…” You hear him release a breath, and his tone, already quiet, already sincere, softens. “... What did he have on you, love?”

Love.

You hate the way it so easily rolls off his tongue, how it travels across the space between you, licks up your spine and makes your chest ache.

Licking your lips, you inhale a breath and turn to him, managing to keep your breathing steady.

“Take your mask off.”

He’s now silent, looking at you.

And it stretches on.

You give a slight nod, a small, humourless, resigned smile on your lips.

Turning away from him, you look at the bottles before you but you’re not really seeing, because you know you’re never going to see him again and the acceptance of that makes yo—

A gloved hand grips your bicep and turns you, shoving you back against the shelf.

Inhaling a sharp breath, you stare up at him. “What the fuck are you—”

“Don’t move,” he commands, the hand moving to your shoulder, keeping you in place.

You shove his arm away, trying to straighten to your full height. “Get off me—”

“Stay still.” His knee presses between your legs, thigh against your stomach, keeping you in place.

“Get off—”

He covers your eyes with one gloved hand, plunging the world into darkness, and you hear something clatter to the ground and then he’s gripping your hand and lifting it and he presses it—

He presses it against his cheek.

His bare cheek.

You still, breaths coming out a little harsher.

It’s the only sound that fills the stone room.

After a few moments, your fingers flex a little and he releases your hand.

And you keep it there.

When he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move, you slowly draw your hand back until it’s just your fingertips against his skin.

He doesn’t move.

You glide them slowly up to his cheekbone, then drift them along it.

You reach his nose.

Your fingertips travel over it, up the bridge.

It’s strong, a little longer than you thought.

You glide them up, to his forehead.

You keep waiting to feel a mask but… nothing.

Just his bare skin.

Drifting your fingertips across his forehead, you trail them down his temple—

You feel hair.

You pause.

Then, you move your fingers closer to his hair.

He doesn’t move.

You move again… and your fingers sink into his hair.

It’s a little longer, and much softer, than you had imagined.

You can’t help yourself; you slide your hand through his hair and find that it ends at the nape of his neck.

You don’t realise that the corners of your mouth lift a little.

Your fingers glide around the side of his neck, your hand coming up to cup his face, and your other lifts, too, cupping his other cheek.

The masks are off.

You can feel his face.

All of it.

And you can feel slight rises and dips here and there, scars, many of them.

And you can feel his stubble, too.

All of it.

All of him.

One of your hands moves, your fingers wanting to stroke over his cheek again, and you caress them down to his lips, over them—

You feel it.

His breath, shaking.

Carefully lowering your hand, you place it on his vest, and feel it rising and falling a little faster.

Your lips part.

He’s… You don’t know.

Frightened? You can never imagine him that way.

Apprehensive? Not that either.

But… maybe this is it.

Your other hand, still on his cheek, moves a fraction, your thumb gently brushing back and forth over his skin.

You don’t want him feeling that way.

When you don’t move again, you hear him swallow lightly.

“This…” His voice is quiet, rougher. “... This is all I can give you… for now…” He swallows again. “… I’m sorry it can’t be more. And I’m sorry, for all of it. Sorry that this is a shit apology, too.”

For now.

Inhaling a quiet breath, you lick your lips.

“Say it again.”

There’s a small pause, and you wish you could see him.

“… What?”

“Say sorry.”

There’s a smaller pause, and you feel him inhale a deeper breath.

“I’m sorry.”

“Again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Again.”

“I’m sorry, Stray.”

Your hand moves from his cheek to the back of his neck, and your fingers curl a little into the ends of his hair.

And you pull.

He allows you to, lowering his head to yours.

“Again.”

“I’m sorr—”

You steal the last syllable from him by capturing his lips in yours, and the kiss is firm, deep. Your hand lifts from his vest, settles on his cheek, and you still can’t believe you’re touching him.

Splaying your fingers, your thumb brushes over his cheekbone once more, and as you do, he releases a breath through his nose, and then you feel his other hand on your waist. You brush your thumb again, stroking gently, and his hand slides further, moving to your lower back. When your fingers slip into his hair, curling in, he pulls you against him, a low sound coming from the back of his throat.

“... I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he mumbles against your lips as you press against him, trapped between him and the shelves, and a small, soft moan escapes you as his tongue strokes against yours.

With the heels giving you a few more inches of height, you can easily wrap your arms around his neck, and you keep your hand in his hair, fingers tangling in tighter, and he groans.

His breathing has quickened, too, though so has yours.

“Can you keep your eyes closed? Please?” he suddenly mumbles against your lips.

There’s something quietly desperate in the way he says it, and you nod, breaking your lips from his.

He doesn’t move, though, and you can just hear your breathing as you feel his face close to yours.

And then he lifts his hand away from your eyes.

Swallowing involuntarily, you exhale a breath.

You could open them. Really fuck him over right now. See his face, use it to trade, to barter, to blackmail. Betray him like he betrayed you.

You keep your eyes closed.

There’s another moment in which you don’t hear him seemingly doing anything, and then you hear him move, and realise after a beat that he’s on his knees.

His hands are on your dress, you can feel the skirt of it moving about your legs, but before you can release another breath, you hear a ripping sound. Followed by a very long ripping sound.

“Are you ruining my dress, Lieutenant?”

“I am.”

You can’t stop your lips from twitching as the ripping sound comes again.

“I really like this dress, you fucker.”

“I’ll buy you a new one. A better one.”

You hear him move, then he seemingly pauses.

“What is it?”

He doesn’t answer, doesn’t move.

It startles you slightly when you finally feel his fingers, now bare, drift over your thigh. Or, rather, the bullet-hole scar you know is there. He traces around it gently, so gently.

“I wanted to kill him after that.” His voice is quiet. “My own teammate.”

You don’t answer, just focus on his fingers stroking over it.

His bare fingers.

When he rises after a few moments, you lick your lips and lift your head, trying to imagine how close his lips are.

But it’s his fingers at your shoulder you feel next, and they pull the thin strap of the dress off your shoulder, fingertips trailing down your bicep to the scar there.

“I couldn’t look at him for days without thinking of murderin’ him.”

It sounds like a pained confession.

You like to think it’s the first time he’s said it out loud, that you have that privilege.

He lowers his head, and kisses it.

You can’t help the slightly ragged inhale you take, and then his head lifts, lips millimetres from your jaw.

“That’s what you do to me,” he murmurs. “That’s what I’d do for you. I’d fuckin’ kill for you, Stray. I should’ve killed Vitale, I’m sorry I didn’t.”

You angle your head a fraction closer to him.

“I’m glad it was me.”

You feel the breath he exhales, the fingers on one hand touching against your hip.

“It shouldn’t’ve had to be.”

Before you can respond, his head and hands are suddenly gone, he’s pulled back, and then you feel something silky cover your eyes, and it’s swiftly tightened and knotted at the back of your head.

He’s used the strip he’d ripped from your dress to blindfold you.

“Very creative,” you murmur, a corner of your mouth lifting.

“I’m very intelligent.” His hands now cup your face, and you have to try with everything in you not to lean your head into one of his palms, because your lips twitch again, ruefully.

“Not about everything.”

He exhales a small breath. “Nah, not about everything.”

Silence falls as you press your lips together a little, try to quell the desire and need and want that is burning inside you because the still logical and hurt part of you is demanding you to not crumble, to not give in to him, to hate him, to hurt him—

He kisses you, softly, tenderly, and it takes you by surprise.

It’s so… nice. It’s nice to be kissed this way, sweetly, intensely, nothing else to it except just wanting to.

It’s nice to have it done by him.

But… Fuck… But the last time this happened…

“What is it?” he murmurs as you break the kiss, your chin tilting down a touch.

“You… Last time…”

He gives you a moment before he quietly prompts you.

“What?”

Inhaling a breath, you lick your lips. “You kissed me like that last time.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Like you care. Why can’t you just say it. “... Gently.”

“Oh. Right.” There’s a pause, and his hands fall from you. “... I didn’t realise I… You didn’t like it?”

Your bitter-sweet smile returns, your voice quiet. “I liked it very much.”

Your own, pained confession.

Swallowing lightly, you have to add, “... It was what came after.”

Releasing a breath, he shifts slightly. “That night…” His voice is quieter, lips still close to yours. “... I meant everythin’ I said and did, except the messages to Vitale. And I didn’t mean for him to take you. For you to go to him, I mean. I’m sorry.”

You’ve met a lot of expert liars in your life. You’re one of them. It’s why you’re so good at what you do. It’s what you’ve been hired for. You know when someone’s lying; you can feel it, sense it. Even if it’s just the slightest, smallest thing, a little alarm will ring in your mind.

Your mind is quiet.

“I know.”

“You do?”

There’s the quiet desperation again.

“Yeah.” Pressing your lips together a little, you have to force yourself to say it. “... I just don’t know if I can… if I can trust you, again. Because I did trust you, Ghost. With my life. And… all of me.”

You wish you could see him.

“I know. Believe me, I fucking know.” He shifts again, and you think you might, briefly, feel his hand by your waist, but then it’s gone. “... Do you… Could you give me the chance to earn it back?”

Silence.

You’ve thought about it over the last year. Of killing him. Of forgiving him. Of thinking and doing nothing at all. Each time had been a different answer, a different resolution. But that had all been before.

Before you’d seen him again.

Before he’d come to warn you about Francesco.

Before he’d offered to help.

Before he’d taken his masks off.

Before he’d kissed you like that.

You know what kind of man he is. His flaws, the limits of his emotional capability.

How things have changed.

That’s what had first drawn you to him. A quick, satisfying fuck with nothing else attached, that led nowhere.

How things have changed.

If he didn’t care, if this all meant nothing, then why do all of this?

You want to ask that very question… but there’s still something in you that just…

“If you do something for me.”

You hear the small breath he releases, clouded with relief, and he asks instantly, “What can I do?”

Lifting your chin, you wet your lips. “Help me burn it all.”

You expect the pause, but not how short it is.

“Is that what you want? Is that what it’ll take?”

“It’ll take more, Ghost,” you murmur, knowing, and hoping that he knows it, too, that it’ll take a whole lot more. “But it’ll be a start.”

“Then I’ll do it, love.”

Your eyebrows lift slightly before you swiftly catch your features, holding them expressionless. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He’d murmured the affirmation, and before you can speak again, he surprises you by pressing a small kiss to your lips. Then another, then another.

You’re returning them before you realise it, a faint smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“You going to defy orders for me, Lieutenant?” you murmur, your hands lifting and resting on his vest.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he rumbles, and you now allow your eyebrows to rise, his lips brushing against yours.

“I need you to tell me about every time, in explicit detail.”

“Later.”

You very much like the sound of that.

Later.

Still, you can’t let it be that easy.

“That’s very presumptuous, Lieutenant,” you murmur, a light warning in your tone.

“Wishful thinkin’,” he murmurs in reply, and his hand cups your cheek, and… you indulge.

You lean your head ever so slightly into it.

It also serves as a reminder that you can touch his face. Raising your hands, you cup his cheeks, fingers splaying a little. Then, moving one hand to the back of his neck, you lift your chin and press a kiss to his cheek. It’s lingering, soft.

When you end it, you pause because you just… You just want to be in that moment for a second longer.

And he doesn’t move either.

But, no, then he is, his head tilting, and his lips brush against yours.

He’s changed.

Something about him’s changed.

Why else would he be here? Why else would he be this… undemanding? The Ghost you’d first met would have you halfway to a base right now.

The Ghost you’d first met would have done a lot of things differently.

That’s why the betrayal had hurt you so much. Because it felt like the man you’d first met.

And you’d thought he’d changed.

Because of you.

For you.

And he… he has.

That’s why this is so terrifying, yes, you’ll admit you are just that; terrified. Because you don’t know, if you truly and fully forgive him, what territory that leads you into. Uncharted waters. Something new.

Something lasting.

Something that’s not really… allowed, in your world.

And you never thought it would be possible, not in your profession, not with all that you’ve seen, experienced. But if tonight goes as you plan, as you hope, then maybe…

Parting your lips, you kiss him.

He returns it instantly, moving as slowly as you do.

It’s strange, kissing him and not feeling the roughened material of his mask on your skin. Just his skin.

His bare skin.

A small sound comes from the back of your throat, and his hands are suddenly on your waist, sliding around to your back and holding you against him.

And your arms, of their own accord, go around his neck as you press into him.

And he doesn’t push for more.

You’re just kissing.

…

Oh, fucking fuck it all, maybe you can let it be that easy.

You’ve hated yourself for it, but you’ve missed him. You’ve dreamed about him, imagined him, fucking pined for him.

It’s fucked up and fucking unexplainable, but you need him.

“What you doin’?” he rumbles as your hands go to the fastenings of his vest, fumbling a little as you try to find them.

“Take this off,” you breathe.

He does as he’s told, helping you and dropping it to the floor. Next you find the zipper of his jacket, yank it down, and go straight for his belt, unclasping it once you feel it. One of his hands grips the edge of the shelf beside your head as his other settles on your hip, gathering the material of your dress, fisting it.

“You want me here? Right now?” he gravels, and you can just imagine his eyebrow arching, that smug fucking smile on his lips.

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Thought you had business to attend to.”

“I’ll allow them a few more minutes to live.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and you pull him closer and kiss him, deeply, intently.

“You can be fuckin’ terrifyin’,” he mumbles against your mouth, and you smile.

“Don’t you forget it.”

Opening your mouth, your tongue strokes at his, and you moan as he gathers the skirt of your dress higher and higher until his fingers can stroke against your thigh.

“Touch me, please,” you murmur, and he groans quietly.

“Where? You said only a few minutes.”

You nip at his lower lip. “Are you doubting your capabilities?”

“Nah, I just like to take my time with you. Wanted you begging for my cock.”

“If you ask nicely, I might.”

A corner of his mouth lifts higher than the other. “Oh, that’s how it’s gunna be, is it?”

“Yeah, so be a good boy, and ask nicely.”

“All right.”

Before you can nip at him again, he moves his head to the side, lips drifting over your ear as he starts to murmur, “Will you beg for my cock, love? Will you beg for me to fuck you open? Fuck you nice and deep? So slow you can feel every inch of me stretching you?”

You moan as he starts to kiss at your neck, your hands gripping at his biceps.

“Will you do that for me, love? Hm? Will you drip down my cock and squeeze me until I cum? Will you?”

You’re gasping quietly, breaths ragged.

“You didn’t… say please…”

You feel him smile.

Oh, fuck…

His lips are at your ear once more, and he murmurs deliciously low, “Please, love. Please beg for my cock.”

Oh, fucking hell…

Inhaling a jagged breath, your nails bite into his shoulders. “I need it, please.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, please.”

“Mmh, let’s see, shall we… You wet enough for me yet…?” His hand slides across your thigh, heading towards your—

“No knickers? You really are about savin’ time.”

You release a short, breathy laugh that swiftly morphs into a gasp when his hand slides down your pussy lips, palm rubbing over your clit.

Your knees nearly buckle as he chuckles lowly.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

When three of his fingers push into you, your head drops back against the shelf as you release a loud moan.

“Fuckin’ Christ, can you take me already, yeah?”

You’re nodding before he’s finished, wetting your lips as you breathe faster.

“Yes, please, just give me your cock, I need it.”

“I know, love, I know… Here…” He grips your thigh and lifts it, hooking your leg over his hip as he widens his stance. Then, you hear the zipper of his trousers coming down, the rustling of material, and then the grunt he gives as he pulls his cock out.

You imagine he strokes it a few times, considering the groans that follow, and then, fuck, you feel the tip against your pussy.

He glides it up and down through your lips, wetting it with your slick, and you inhale a breath of surprise when you feel his forehead touch against yours.

“You ready?” he murmurs, and you nod a little.

“Yes. Please.”

Slowly, he pushes his cock inside you.

Gripping at his shoulders, you cry out softly, your mouth open, and your forehead remains against his.

“Fuckin’... Christ…” he grunts, a hand back on your hip, holding you against the shelves as he slides further and further inside you.

When he’s finally all the way in, you release a breath, feeling him do the same, mouth so close to yours.

Fuck, you’d missed feeling him. Missed the way he stretches you so perfectly. So fucking perfectly.

You can’t help yourself, you start to rock your hips instantly, a soft, almost whimper coming from the back of your throat.

“Oh, fuck… Yeah?” he breathes, and you nod, you can only nod, mind blanking momentarily at the feel of him dragging in and out of you.

“All right, love, hold on.”

Your arms wrap around his neck as he moves one hand to the back of your head, his forearm against your back, making sure you won’t hit your head against the shelf as he then starts to increase his thrusts, harder and faster.

“Oh, fu-uck…” you gasp, pleasure pulsing through you with each thrust.

He’s grunting, teeth nearly gritted by the sounds of it. “... Christ… You’re so fuckin’... Take me so fuckin’ well… So wet and tight…”

A breathless smile pulls at your lips. “Hearing you say sorry… had me fucking dripping.”

He chuckles roughly. “I’ll be sayin’ it a lot fuckin’ more, then.”

“Good… ‘cause you’re always fucking up.”

“And you’re always right, aren’t you.”

“Yes.”

He groans, fingers tightening on your hip. “Guess we know where we stand, then.”

Do we?

You’re about to ask him so; with his cock dragging in and out of you, spreading you open, your arms tight around his neck, alcohol covering the floor with a matchbox in sight and rooms of ruthless murderers above, you’re about to ask him what the fuck you two are.

But he kisses you before you can, hard and deep.

You moan against his lips, feeling his nose against your cheek and you just still can’t believe you can feel all of him.

Him having done that… it must mean… it has to…

“... Simon…”

He almost doesn’t register it, thinks he’s imagined it, your little fucking delicious moan sounding like his name.

But then you gasp it again, he having thrusted harder without realising, and yes, it’s real.

He’s Simon again. Not just Ghost, not cunt, not fucker.

Simon.

And you’d moaned it like a question.

“Yes, love?”

It takes you a moment, a litany of moans falling from your lips as he hits a sweet spot on his next thrust.

“... You said… I don’t mean… nothing to you…”

He has to quickly quell the slight panic that sparks within him, looking at the silk strip, where your eyes are. “Yeah?”

“What… do you feel for me, then?”

He stares at you, panic rising again as his brow dips even though you can’t see it. “...You know… You know, don’t you…?”

There’s the slightest shaking of your head

Fucking hell…

Right here, with you squeezing around his cock and moaning his name and a fucking crime syndicate not too far away?

“Simon?” you prompt, in a fucking little breathy way that has his cock aching.

“For fuck’s sake, I care about you, you silly cunt,” he gravels.

He’d thought ever saying the words out loud would be with resignation, with a sense of signing a death warrant on someone’s name. But the way you smile, the way your slick pussy grips at him… He wishes he could see your eyes…

He’d promised it a year before to himself, but now he does again.

No one’s going to fucking hurt you ever again.

“You do?”

“You heard me, woman.”

“Say it again.”

He sighs. “Fucking he—”

He breaks off with a groan that comes deep from his throat because your hand has gripped his hair and pulled.

“You cheeky cunt,” he mutters, head tilted back, his cock twitching with pure lust.

“Say it,” you half-hiss, and “I care about you,” he hisses back.

You shove his head closer to yours and your lips crash against his. It’s a hard, sloppy kiss, and his hand tightens on the back of your head, keeping you close.

“I care about you, too, fucker,” you mumble, and he groans again.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Fucking hell.

The tightness that had taken hold of his chest releases, and something that feels, despite everything, like peace drifts through him.

He fucks you harder, deeper, but when you break the kiss with a sharp gasp, he doesn’t release you, keeping you close still.

“Yeah?” He mutters again, lips nearly brushing against yours, voice strained as he looks at you, as he tries to hold off, keep his orgasm at bay just a little bit longer. “You gettin’ close, love?”

“Yeah…” you breathe out shortly, gripping at him tightly.

“Get yourself there, love, rub your clit while I fuck you.”

Your hand drops instantly, finding your clit and fuck, he loves watching you, loves seeing the pleasure on your face, the way your brow goes between dipping and rising, how your perfect mouth stays open.

“You gunna cum on my cock, darlin’?”

The moan you release should be embarrassing, but he’s never called you that before.

You could get used to it.

“Mmh, fuck… Yeah…”

“Let me feel you cum, darlin’, been waitin’ so fuckin’ long to feel it again, been thinkin’ about you every fuckin’ day, remind me of how fuckin’ good you feel, come on, love…”

You’re moaning, gripping at him desperately, nails digging in deep.

And he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

“Cum for me, come on, cum for me… Cum on my cock like a good girl…”

Tipping your head back into his hand, you cry out as you cum, and his lips are on your neck, kissing, sucking, licking and biting, and it sends you spiralling higher in your orgasm, your bones nearly turning to liquid.

And he doesn’t stop.

He fucks you through it, grunting against your skin as your slick walls squeeze and flutter around him.

It just keeps the pleasure going, and your hips buck as your hand flies up to grip at his hair.

“Fuck, fu-uck, Simon… I…”

“I know, I know…” he hums against your ear. “... Feels too good, doesn’t it, feels too much… Just a bit longer, I’m nearly there… Good girl… Fuck… Yeah, squeeze me… Yeah, yeah…”

His thrusts become harsher, quicker, and his head rests against yours so you can hear every short, grunted breath he gives. When he inhales a sharp one, you sink your teeth into your lower lip, pull his hair, tighten your pussy around him… and he cums with a long, loud groan.

You mewl almost pathetically as you feel his cum inside you, feel his cock twitching.

Fucking hell, which you’re definitely going to, you’d missed this.

Missed him.

A few more, deep groans fall from his lips, and then you’re both still, just your breathing filling the room.

Slowly, your grip softens on his hair, and you only slightly register that you’re stroking it gently.

It’s a few more moments before you feel him lift his head, but he doesn’t move any further.

When he releases a breath closer to a sigh, you raise your eyebrows a little.

“What is it?”

“You… You look beautiful.”

That takes you by surprise, your brows lifting higher.

He’s never said that before.

Your lips twitch a little as you try to stop a smile. “Thanks.” Wetting your lips in another valiant effort to hide a smile, you clear your throat. “Can I—”

He kisses you. It’s firm, but undemanding.

When it breaks, you take in a soft breath, and try again, lifting a hand and pointing at the slip of silk around your eyes. “Can I take this off?”

“Not yet.”

He’d said it quickly, and you feel him stiffen slightly before he straightens, and your hand darts to his arm, gripping it.

“Wait. Can I feel your face again?”

He’s still.

Then he lowers his head, and takes one of your hands, guiding it up.

The moment your fingertips touch his skin, they move. You glide them over his cheeks, feeling his stubble and scars, down his nose, over his lips.

You don’t know when you started to smile, but it widens a little more.

“You feel handsome.”

You think you feel him smile.

“I am.”

Exhaling a laugh, you then inhale a sharp breath as he pulls out of you.

Gently lowering your leg from his hip, he then steps back and you hear him tucking his cock away and sorting his trousers. Then he moves somewhere else, and you stay where you are, trying to imagine what he’s doing.

When he steps towards you, you lift your chin a little, and then his hands are at the back of your head, untying the knot. As the silk slips from your face, you keep your eyes closed.

He releases a breath through his nose.

“You can open your eyes, love.”

Doing so, you blink a few times, adjusting to the light.

And then your eyes find his.

There’s lines around them; he’s smiling.

The corners of your mouth lift, and you arch an eyebrow.

“You’ve fucked my mascara up, haven’t you.”

“Not for the first time.”

Lifting a hand, the other pushing the strip into his trouser pocket, he swipes his thumb under one of your eyes, then the other, wiping the mascara and flecks of eyeshadow that have smudged from the silk strip.

When he drops his hand, you wet your lips and tilt your head.

“How do I look?”

“All right.” He lifts the strap of your dress back up over your shoulder as your lips twitch.

“Good.”

When his hand drops, you look at each other.

Fuck, you want him all over again. But not now, not yet.

Later.

“So…” The word prompts him into action, and you watch him zip up his jacket and then pick his vest up, fastening it back onto his chest. “… Shall we burn this place to the ground, Simon?”

Lifting his eyes to you, you see the lines again. “Absolutely.” Moving to the door, he unlocks it and holds it open for you. “After you, love.”

A smile on your lips, you grab a matchbox and a set of keys he hadn’t noticed from the shelf, and head towards the door, passing through.

And then, you swiftly pause and grip his chin and jaw.

He hisses out an almost incredulous breath as you raise your eyebrows.

“If you betray me tonight, or again, I’ll cut your dick off.”

He just looks at you. “Good thing I’m not plannin’ on doin’ that, isnt’ it.”

“It is.” Releasing him, you rise up a little higher in your heels and press a kiss to the cheek of his hard mask. “Let’s go.”

Shaking his head as he follows you up the stairs, he keeps his voice low.

“So what’s the plan, then, boss?”

“Lock all the doors except the front one for me.” Half turning as you ascend, you hand him the keys. “Take out any guards you can but be discreet. This won’t work if there’s panic and they scatter.”

He slips the keys into his pocket. “Any kids here?”

You snort. “What do you think I am, a monster? No. Adults only party.”

“Copy that. What are you gunna do?”

You smile. “Start the fire, darling.” Reaching the outer door, you push it open a little, check the hallway is clear, and then hold it open for him, smile widening. “So you’d better be quick.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Moving through the door, he then turns to you. “Where will I meet you?”

“The foyer. They’ll all have moved into the ballroom. Lock that one last, it’s connected to the foyer.”

“All right.” You’re just about to turn away when he adds, “One more thing…”

“What?”

You arch an eyebrow as he leans closer, his voice low.

“Is my cum dripping down your thighs?”

The sinful smile that lifts your lips has his cock nearly hardening again.

“What do you think?”

He grunts, eyes flicking down to your legs, then back up to yours.

Your smile widens.

“Off you go.”

Shoving his chest, you then turn from him, moving down the stairs. He watches you, releasing a long breath.

Then, before he can stop himself:

“Stray?”

You pause on a step, turning to him.

His jaw moves a little.

“Be careful.”

It’s now your turn for your eyes to flick over him.

Then, you smile.

“You, too.”

—

He moves quickly, as instructed. Handily, the keys are all labelled, thank fuck. Taking out any guards he comes across and locking doors, he skirts around the vast puddles of clear liquid that coat the floors of some of the corridors.

The ground floor is a little trickier, people having snuck off for conversations, or to have a quick fuck. Luckily, though, they all value their privacy, so the doors are already shut. He just has to lock them quietly.

Piece of cake.

Glancing at his watch as he locks the second to last door, he presses his lips together.

He was supposed to check in five minutes ago. Johnny’ll know something’s up. Hopefully he puts a little faith in him, though. Gives him more time.

More time to think about how to fucking explain this.

Heading down the backstairs, he then halts swiftly.

Fire burns at the bottom of it, climbing up the walls and thick curtains of the window.

Fuck, you did work quickly.

Turning, he takes two steps at a time, heading for the hallway he’d come down. Striding down, he opts for the main stairs, why the fuck not.

Jogging down them, he glances at the front door as loud music drifts through from the ballroom.

Two security scanners with flowers draped over them are by the front door, which is closed, and two guards stand by it. They talk together, and as he nears the middle of the stairs, one of them looks up.

Hello, mate.

Withdrawing two knives, he hurls them at them, watching them sink into the men’s chests before he picks up the pace, not wanting anyone in the ballroom to catch a glimpse of him.

As the two men choke on the blood filling their lungs, he pulls the knives out, then sinks them into their necks, the choking abruptly cutting off. Wiping the blood on his sleeve, he then holsters them and, one at a time, grabs the men by the legs and drags them off to the side.

Piling them in the corner, he then strides to the ballroom doors.

Pressing his back against the wall, he peers in.

Three guards stand on the other side, facing the party, fucking idiots, and what a fucking party it is.

People are dancing, there’s lights and flowers everywhere, there’s laughter, and the band sound fucking top notch.

He’s about to feel sorry for the players when he realises they’re made up of members of the family.

Ah, well.

His hand darting out, he grabs one handle, yanks the door closer, then the other and does the same, and when they’re near he grips both and pulls the doors closed. The music is now muffled, and he can hear the guards talking to each other, asking what the fuck happened, and his hand darts into his pocket for the keys. Finding the right one, he swiftly locks the doors just as the guards try to turn the handles.

Well, he can’t promise it won’t cause a panic, but it’s been done.

Pocketing the keys once more, he turns and strides for the front door, ignoring the banging on the ones behind him.

Removing his gun, he opens one of the doors and peers out, finding the driveway empty, quiet.

He closes it a little, leaving it ajar, and checks his watch.

Any minute now, you’ll be here.

Lowering his hand, his lip curls slightly as he starts to smell burning.

Not even just that, he can hear it, too.

There’s screaming coming from somewhere, maybe the ballroom.

He glances at the landing above, then the stairs, then checks his watch again.

Where the fuck are you.

Something is twisting in his chest, rising.

Unease.

Seconds tick by.

A minute.

Minute and a half.

His teeth gritting, his head suddenly whips to the side as he hears a commotion, something crashing to the ground.

Somewhere, either a ceiling or a wall has caved in.

Fuck, where the fuck are you.

His chest twists again.

You wouldn’t.

You wouldn’t just—

You wouldn’t leave.

You can’t have.

You can’t—

There’s the muffled, distant squeal of tyres on tarmac and the roar of an engine from outside. His head whipping to the open door, a half-second later he then lunges for it, gripping the handle and pulling it wider.

Stepping out, he strides across the stone and down the steps to the red carpet, just as a car roars out of the underground garage and shoots across the gravel, the tyres spinning.

No.

No, you can’t—

A burst of gunfire erupts from his right and on instinct he ducks, and then his head snaps up to see—

You.

You’re striding out of the tunnel leading to the garage, rifle raised, and you’re aiming at the car. As you fire again, he looks to the car, watches it swerve, and then the back tyres burst. It swerves again, crashing into one of the huge bronze bowls, and the engine immediately erupts into flames.

Fucking hell.

Pressing his lips together, he looks to you, watches you lower the rifle and stride towards the car.

You look fucking… Well, he has to focus on his anger to stop his cock from rising.

He strides towards you, swiftly catches up and falls into step with you.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he grunts, and you glance at him.

“Calm down, I was getting the servers out. And someone caught on. Well, someones’.”

As you nod in the direction of the car, he looks to it again, and sees three people emerging from it, two men and a woman. The woman’s sobbing, clutching her fur coat to her as she tries to run across the gravel.

Exhaling a breath, you raise the rifle again and fire at her.

She goes down with a cry instantly.

Mariana Vitale. Weapons dealer.

One of the men yells out, raising a handgun and firing at you.

Simon grips your arm, pulls you out of the way of the bullet with a grunt, and you stumble slightly in your heels.

He holds you upright, and you look up at him, smiling.

“Thank you, darling.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He releases you, and you raise the rifle as the man yells again.

You shoot him, and he slumps against one of the car doors before collapsing to the ground.

Roberto Morelli. Money launderer and diamond mine owner.

You and Ghost continue to walk towards the burning car, hearing the manor burn behind you, part of the roof collapsing.

There’s one person left.

Nearing the car, Ghost hangs back a little, adjusts his grip on his gun.

And then there he is.

Gianni rises from the other side of the car, hands raised, eyes wide.

They dart between you both, and he steps out from behind the car, hands shaking.

“Amore mio? What is this? Wh… Why are you with him?”

Raising the rifle, you shoot him in the head.

He collapses to the ground, arms and legs splayed out.

Gianni Vitale. Human trafficker.

Blowing out a long breath, you gaze at his body as you shoulder the rifle, straightening your back.

Ghost keeps his gun to hand, looks to the long driveway, the trees, just in case anyone is out there.

When you turn to manor, he does the same, glancing at you then at the—

His gaze darts back to you as you reach into the bodice of the dress and remove a small remote.

His mouth opens to ask what the fuck you’re doing, when you press the button, and part of the manor explodes.

The ballroom.

Squinting slightly against the light of the blaze, he raises an arm over you in case any debris should fall.

You’re far away enough, though, and it falls short, pieces of wall, ceiling, furniture, and yeah, probably people, falling to the ground a good several feet away.

Lowering his arm, he just watches it with you.

And neither of you speak.

The roof starts to cave in all over, the flames reaching up to the sky, angry and swift. Smoke billows out, and walls collapse, and he finally holsters his gun, folding his arms across his chest.

When he suddenly hears a sniff, he looks over at you.

Your jaw is set, and a few tears slide down your cheeks, but you’re smiling.

He gazes at you, and after a few moments, he looks to the manor again.

He hopes you have your peace now.

Whatever comes next, he hopes you—

“I was part of a unit once.”

He doesn’t know what startles him more. The fact you spoke, or what you said.

He looks at you, still.

Wiping at a cheek, you then fold your arms, still gazing at the collapsing building.

“For years. A group for hire. Shadow operatives. Didn’t belong to anyone. Didn’t even know much about each other, but we were a good team, the eight of us. We were on a job one day, like any other, but it all went south.” You sniff. “Went to absolute shit, actually. Angelo was the job, and one by one his mercs picked us off. I was bleeding out, I’d taken a bullet here.”

You point to your side before tucking your arm back against your chest. He knows which scar you mean.

“They didn’t finish me off, though. They took me in, patched me up, brought me back to life. It wasn’t until I was stable that I found out I was the only one left. They’d killed the others.” You wet your lips. “When they took me to Angelo, he told me of how his people had kept me alive, by his grace. How he hadn’t had to do that. How lucky I was. He said I owed him.” You snort humourlessly, as if he was right before you again. “I said I owe you fuck all, if my team are dead then kill me. He smiled. Fucking awful smile. And then he said if I didn’t serve him when he called then he’d kill their families. I didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about, whose families, I said.” You stop for the smallest of beats. “And then he showed me pictures of them all. These people that I had no idea existed. Friends, family, children that looked so much like their parents—” Your voice catches slightly, and you swallow before continuing. “... If I told anyone, if I refused at any point, then he’d kill them. I knew he meant it, but…” You swallow again. “... When I said no to killing you…” Your voice catches again. “… When I went back to him he told me what he’d had done. Three families killed. He told me how it had happened. How it hadn’t been quick. How that was all my fault.” Tears are dripping down your cheeks and you inhale a shuddering breath. “I hated myself. Still do.” Sniffing, your tone hardens. “But it was his fault. And I knew I had to kill him.” Wiping at your cheeks, you sniff again. “When I killed him, I knew his people would think it was you, your unit. I knew his people left over, whoever would take charge next, wouldn’t care about the families, but I made sure they were safe, warned. But I just couldn’t live…” Shaking your head, you wet your lips. “... Knowing those people were out there, doing the shit they were doing. When I recovered, I came up with this. Tracked down Gianni, gained his trust. Bided my time. And…” You release a shaking breath. “... Now, it’s over. It’s finally over.”

Simon hasn’t looked away from you for one moment.

Something burns in his chest, hotter and more furious than the fire ahead of him.

And it burns for you.

But he can’t say it, doesn’t know when or even if he’ll ever be able to.

If he’s capable.

Maybe.

Maybe one day.

Silently, he pulls the silk strip out of his pocket and holds it out to you.

Looking down at it, you smile, exhaling a small laugh through your nose.

“Thanks.”

Accepting it, you wipe at your cheeks and eyes, blowing out another breath.

Gripping the neck of his vest, he finally pulls his gaze from you, looking back towards the manor.

“What happens now?”

Sniffing, you fold your arms again. “All the family are in there. If there’s anyone left anywhere else, they won’t mean shit. Won’t do shit.”

“What if they broke the windows, got out?”

You raise your eyebrows, a smile lifting your lips. “The great thing about the rich is that they’re arrogant. Shatterproof glass on all the windows.”

“Ah.”

That explained the fucking balcony, then.

He’s silent.

You are, too.

It nearly startles him when you tilt your head back and release a loud sigh.

“Fuck, I feel like I should light a cigarette.”

“Can kill you, that, smoking.”

He glances at you, catching your trying-to-be-unamused look.

And then he chuckles quietly as you laugh, watching you look back towards the blaze.

Yeah, maybe one day he’ll be able to say it properly.

“Oh, are they your boys?”

Lifting his head, he looks to the treelines beyond the manor, finds the figures darting out, nearing the building.

Shit.

“Yeah. Stayed out past my curfew.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

He shrugs. “Nah, don’t be. They’ll be pissed but…” He looks at you, shrugging again. “This is a good outcome. We can figure out the rest.”

“Good.” Smiling, you gaze at him.

Fuck, he wants to kiss you, wants to feel your body against his, wants to tell you that he lo— cares about you, again.

He’s just starting to lower his arms, is about to close the distance between you, when you turn.

And you fucking start walking away.

Staring at you, he raises his eyebrows. “Where the fuck are you goin’?”

You release a long, contented sigh. “To a nice hotel. I’m fucking exhausted.”

Fucking hell.

“Right.”

Turning to him, you walk backwards, smile wide. “What about you, what’s your plan for the evening?”

“I’ve got a fucking psychotic woman to catch.”

“Ah.” Your smile widens into a beam. “Best of luck. I hear she’s in the market for a new job, you know.”

His head tilts as something dangerously like hope sparks in his chest. “Same industry?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Stick with what you know, y’know.”

You can’t see his smile as he folds his arms. “I’ll ask around.”

“Thanks.”

Your smile softens as you look at him, and he doesn’t think he imagines that your gait slows a little.

And then you’re turning away, and striding down the driveway.

“See you around, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he calls after you.

Watching you go, he shakes his head as you lift a hand and wave it, not looking back.

Fucking Christ… You’re in it now, son.

Finally making himself turn away, he starts walking towards the ruined building, lifting his hand and turning his radio on. Voices burst out of it, shouting orders to each other, and he sighs.

Suppose once I explain it all, they’ll want to offer her a position again.

Wonder if I’ll have to declare this relationship to HR.

… She’s gunna love that joke.

─

A/N: You! Reading this! Yes, you! Thank you so much for making it this far, I appreciate it so much. To those who left comments, thank you from the bottom of my heart, you kept me going and kept this fun for me.

I hope you all enjoyed this story, and this pairing, and I hope you have a lovely week!

─

Reblogs and comments make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed in my future works! (Note: I'll only tag if age is in your bio) Sorry if the tag doesn't work!

Masterlist

Tagged: @sistasarah-sallysaidso, @gifsbysimplysonia, @ryethebrokengae, @poohkie90, @corvusmorte, @captainutsstuff, @ff-huntress

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #my writing #flamehairedwritings

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corellianhounds · 10 months ago

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Analyzing The Mandalorian’s Fighting Styles — “The Prisoner”

Part I

Word count: 895

One thing I really liked about Mando’s retribution in “The Prisoner” episode is that it was in line with his character, and it furthers my gripes with season 2 specifically because “The Prisoner” reinforces that Mando is a hunter, and a lethally efficient one at that. Hunters lie in wait and plan their moves from afar, observing and stalking their prey as they move silently and decisively, calculating the entire time.

Mando breaks out of the cell and immediately goes for the command center, which by his ability to act efficiently there tells us he was likely making observations about the room when they were there the first time. Mando is constantly aware of his surroundings and is always thinking of the multiple possible outcomes of a situation at any given time. He knew or intuited how to re-route the crew and override security measures, blocking corridors and dropping the walls between hallways, and did so quickly while planning as he went.

In the control center we see him cut the crew off and redirect them in specific ways that will put him at an advantage: by pairing Mayfeld with Qin, he puts Mayfeld at the disadvantage, knowing he was the new guy— Qin has no reason to care about Mayfeld because there was no prior connection between the two of them. Qin’s also unarmed until he takes one of Mayfeld’s guns (further disadvantaging one of the crew), and Mando knows he’s only going to look out for himself regardless of whether Xi’an is his sister or not. Qin’s the most likely to just bail on the rest and make for the first escape he can find.

Divide and conquer.

Mayfeld is a sharpshooter so by turning off all the lights and knowing the alarm lights will be flickering, he’s taken away Mayfeld’s ability to even see what he could be shooting at. Stalking Mayfeld in the dark and moving with him allows Mando to close the gap so he can overpower him at close range, which wouldn’t be a sharpshooter’s forte.

When Mando sees Burg and Xi’an split up he redirects Burg to the command center because the only way he can hope to defeat him is by literally getting the high ground, which wouldn’t be found anywhere else on the ship they have access to. Burg’s the strongest so he needs to eliminate him first; if any of the others were to team up on him he could still win that fight, but Burg tips the scales too much for Mando to not get him out of the equation entirely.

The command center is the only place Mando could get the upper hand on Burg and he knows he can’t go up against the Devaronian in a contest of brute strength, so he lies in wait in the grating above, hoping he can string Burg up and cut him off with a trap. Obviously Burg is able to yank him down and Mando has to improvise from there, but even though Mando doesn’t succeed in a close quarters fight, he’s still setting up advantages for later (like by getting both of Burg’s sidearms while his hands are occupied, even if Mando wasn’t able to shoot Burg with them).

What’s interesting about Xi’an is that if you notice just before their knife fight, it almost seems like Xi’an realizes he’s there because she can smell him. What makes his fight with her a challenge is that we can tell shes’s also a hunter, and she’s deadly from afar— Even for as many knives as she throws that he’s able to deflect, one of them still lands in his shoulder. They may have equal skill with blades, but the key for him here is that if he keeps moving forward he knows if he can close the gap between them where he’ll have the advantage of bulk muscle and physical strength. It’s also better to get her to expend her arsenal now so she doesn’t have anything left when he has to remain in close proximity as he drags her back to the cell.

All of these skills demonstrate his powers of observation and ability to predict what his enemies will do next. Mando planting the distress beacon on Qin was him knowing the New Republic would show up at the chop shop. He anticipates Ran’s betrayal, he knows Qin would have no idea what the beacon was (thereby preventing him from acting on its presence and implications the second he saw it), and he knows what the New Republic will do, thereby clearing his escape of any pursuers

One of the first teachings of fight choreography is that a fight happens when words stop being effective, and that any fight within a narrative is a story in itself. Fights are character-driven and the results should further reinforce those characters, and/or change the story for the characters involved in a significant way. Every action in this episode reinforces the idea that Mando thinks ahead, thinks on his feet, and does his best fighting when he’s able to be a hunter. He’s just as smart, stealthy, and capable in the more subtle aspects of his craft as he is in an all out fight, and I wish they’d kept that characterization beyond the first season because it’s integral to how this guy operates within this world.

#The Mandalorian meta #The Mandalorian #Din Djarin #Xi’an #Migs Mayfeld #Burg #Qin #Ranzar Malk #hounds speaks #character analysis #my writing

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anachronistic-falsehood · 2 years ago

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ok ok of u wont talk abt them on ur official analysis post HERE 🎫 i am handing u a free pass to go OFF about passive/active class and also muse of life/lord of doom >:] ooooo infecting you with classpect brain worms....

*visibly trembling like a chihuahua out of excitement* WELLLLLLLL. I SUPPOSE. IF U INSIST

OK. OK. Tristamp Vash. guy who's got feminine characteristics in his story, narrative foil to his twin brother who's got a lot of masculine characteristics. We got that down we're all caught up!! classpect time :3 (putting this under a read more because this got LONG)

Obviously classpects vary wildly between different people's perspectives, and even within the text of Homestuck itself, but there are some heavily implied roles that each class/aspect has. Time is generally an aspect associated with masculinity, Witches are typically girls, etc. Ofc Vash and Knives can have different classpects than these, but making them a Muse of Life and Lord of Doom respectively just FITS. SO WELL.

Since there's only one Muse and one Lord in Homestuck, there's not much to draw from when analyzing these classes, but there are some insinuations to be made! Muses likely a class more common in women, and Lords are likely more often men. The Life aspect is one that in text, we have only seen in female players, and only male players have had the Doom aspect (not that those aspects are gender-exclusive, but it is a PATTERN).

Life is a nurturing, motherly aspect. Jane Crocker is often treated/seen as a mother (despite being 16, which is a whole other can of worms), and her older self, Nanna Egbert, is one of the few Homestuck characters to canonically be a mother!!! Feferi is the heiress to an entire planet, and her Beforan self is a coddling motherly figure to her empire. Vash is the silent guardian of No-Man's Land, protecting people and being kind and gentle to everyone ESPECIALLY KIDS! We've seen how he is with kids, in Tristamp and every other version! Also in Tristamp, Vash is. a fucking parent now. Knives used Vash to make all these Plants get pregnant. Very violating, but it fits with the maternal themes already associated with him.

Knives and Doom. The only two Doom players we have are the Captors (and I am by no means an expert on Mituna so we're mostly working with Sollux here). However, both are shown to have powers that have extremely destructive potential. Sollux is also a Dave parallel, which means he's also a Masculine Cool Kid, just to a lesser extent. Doom isn't an inherently masculine aspect but there are bits and pieces of it reflected in the people who hold that aspect.

It's also... an extremely lonely aspect. There are only two people who hold it, one of which is a joke character, and the other of which isn't even present for the kids' victory. It's not a needed aspect for a successful session. Neither is Life, but it's still a good one to have in many sessions! Doom is more so an extra, something more directly helpful when it's paired with a negative class (Bard, Prince, Rogue, Thief, etc.). It's not needed to balance anything out except for the Aspect Wheel itself in the coding of Sburb. Knives is a very lonely character. He's not needed. Not in the lives of Plants and humans, and not in the life of his brother.

Now for Classes! Muses are passive; things happen to them, they rarely make things happen. Calliope sat around and waited for someone to come rescue her with a ring of life, doing nothing but telling her story to the poor dead souls who crossed her path. Alt!Calliope finally took action in the end, but how long did that take? How long was she stuck in the bubbles, searching for very specific souls to guide them to the right paths? Aimless and wandering with no one and nothing to keep her grounded, HMMM DOESN'T THAT SOUND LIKE A HUMANOID TYPHOON WE KNOW??? HMMMMMMM

In contrast, Lords are very active. Caliborn takes charge, makes decisions, and works off of a myriad of terrible instincts and loose guidance. He's also an incredibly masculine character (or so he wants us to think). He takes control over his sister's life, he takes control over the lives of others when he's part of Doc Scratch and then Lord English. He is the puppeteer! Everyone else is just an object for his own gain, HMMMM DOESN'T THAT SOUND LIKE A GENOCIDAL PLANT THAT WE KNOW?? HMMMMM

Maybe if Knives chose a different path, he could have been a Prince, or a Thief, but he's a Lord of Doom. This is the path he's chosen, much like Caliborn and how he chose to kill his sister and enter a dead session. This is what Knives has chosen to do. Both are forcing the world and their siblings into whatever roles they see fit.

The Lord of Time shatters the universe- Space itself, the realm of his sister. The Lord of Doom shatters the Life of his brother. This is not the inherent role of a Lord, but these are the paths they have chosen. The narrative parallels are there. The Lord kills the Muse, he takes choice away from the universe, he breaks it for his own gain.

#whiskeys word soup #trigun #trigun stampede #homestuck #didn't think i'd be putting trigun and homestuck tags on the same post but HERE WE ARE BABEY!!!!!#genuinely did not mean for this to get so long i've been doing trigun analysis all day i think #it's just. it drives me crazy. rotating classpects in my mind ALL THE TIME ALWAYS AND FOREVER!!!

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rjalker · 1 year ago

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look at these Butia* palm flowers, June 15th, 2023.

[ID: Two photographs of a palm tree from the genus Butia.

The first photo is taken from ground level, looking up at the tree, which has long green fronds. In the center is a large flower stalk that is yellow and red.

The second photo zooms in on the flower stalk, showing that it is covered in thousands of tiny yellow and red flowers.

End ID.]

the asterisk is because this is from the genus Butia, not a specific species. It used to be just one species, but then it was split into two, and I have no idea how to tell the two apart, and most people growing / selling them also don't know or just don't care.

These trees are also sometimes called Pindo palms, or jelly palms. Sometimes African jelly palms, though they're not from Africa.

Either way, if the flowers are pollinated (and there was a bee flying around up there helping!), the trees will form golf-ball sized orange fruits (I think they're technically dates?) that are sometimes called pina colada fruits, because they taste super tropical and awesome.

Here's two, each from a different tree. Like animals, plants are their own individuals, and each have their own individual traits, so some trees will have bigger fruits than others, and they'll each have their own unique flavor:

[ID: A photograph of two white hands holding up two Butia palm fruits to the camera. Both are orange, but the one on the left is smaller and more deeply orange, with unblemished skin, and the one on the right is larger, wider, and slightly paler orange, with some bruising on the skin. On the sidewalk in the background, and the grass next to it, more of the smaller orange fruits can be seen. End ID.]

The smaller one here was growing at a gas station, so uh, yeah don't eat fruits growing at gas stations even if you know the species itself isn't poisonous, lol. You also obviously need to make sure when you're collecting the fruit in general that it has not been sprayed with pesticide.

If your neighbors grow these trees and you know they don't use pesticides or anything, you can probably ask if it's okay to collect the fruit, and they'll probably thank you since it means they don't have to do it themselves.

If You own one of these trees, you can spread a tarp or a net out below the tree to catch the fruit when it falls so it doesn't get dirty :)

These fruits are very fiberous, so they can cause an upset stomach for some people, but you can squish them and drink the juice, which is where it gets the name African jelly palm -- mix the juice with pectin, and you've got some fruity tropical jelly!

They have a single seed in the center, which is.......pretty sure the word is polyembryonic, it's one seed but it's got three or four uh, babies inside. So if you grow one seed, you should get multiple seedlings that come up.

You can look at a seed and see each of the different...embyros. I'm not sure if that's even the right word for this but eh.

[ID: Two photos placed next to eachother of a cleaned seed from a Butia palm, held by a white hand over a sidewalk. The seed is light brown, has a hard coat, and is oval shaped, with a dark circle toward the narrow end. When turned upright, three lines can be seen trisecting the seed into three sections. End ID.]

These trees are commonly planted in the southern united states as decorative trees, and most people don't know the fruit's edible, or if they do, they just don't care.

We collected a bunch of seeds last year but weren't sure how to get them growing, so now I have one in a container of water and dirt with some canna lilies as part of the experiment.

I'm not sure how long it takes these trees until they can produce fruit, but if you find one with fruit on it...definitely make a note to come back in August or so and see if you can get any when it's ripe.

Pindo, Butia, or Jelly palms can be told apart from other commonly planted palm trees in the Southern US from their long fronds with the leaves radiating out from the central, vein, while most other palms have fronds with a long stem, then a fan shape at the end where the leaves radiate out:

[ID: An MS paint drawing of two scribbled palm fronds drawn in green.

The top one is labeled, "Cabbage palm native to North America" with a smiley emoticon, and continues, "Technically also has edible fruit but it's tiny with a big seed and dry and the birds will appreciate it more. Shaped like a hand or fan." The frond has a long stem, then a wider, jagged end. Several small black circles are labeled, "Tiny black fruits".

The second one is labeled, "Butia / Pindo native to South America" with a smiley emoticon, and continues, "Shaped like a feather", with several orange and gold circles labeled, "Yay fruit" and "golf-ball sized fruits", with one having orange lines radiating out from it. End ID.]

These fruits ripen around August, so keep an eye out then! You can collect them off the ground (if it's safe to do so), or if you've got a ladder or step stool, off the branch if they're ripe enough to come off easily.

If / when I get any of the seeds to germinate I will let you know :)

#long post #wild edibles #well.#if you're in their native range they're wild lol #edible foraging #foraging #urban edibles #urban foraging #described images #palm fruit #dates #pindo palm #butia palm #jelly palm

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halothenthehorns · 1 year ago

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Chapter 15: I WRESTLE SANTA'S EVIL TWIN

Magnus read the new title with that usual feeling he was taking two steps forward and one step back in the constant insanity of this book. "Santa's real?" He repeated. "And has a twin?" Okay, fine, can't get any stranger. "Percy can wrestle?" Nope, the trifecta left him forgetting how to function like a normal human. Which he probably wasn't...

"Deep breaths Magnus," Alex always had such a domineering way of speaking, always being so easy for her to keep everybody's attention. Especially his. "Maybe Percy gets an early Christmas present if he wins. Like Annabeth. With a bow around her neck."

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" He asked blearily, even though it had. It was a nicer way to think about than the constant insanity like getting past the fact that every stupid sitcom that never questioned where the magic presents came from were more right than their reality somehow.

"Yes," Alex said as confidently as ever. "Now hop to the part where Percy uses cookies and that beard to put saint nick in a headlock or I will."

He knew if she'd really wanted to she would have snatched the book away from him to read it herself. Instead he found himself smiling as he took a breath and firstly informed, "I don't know anything about wrestling, so I hope the rules get explained first."

"When is it ever that easy?" Percy reminded as he lounged back in his chair and kept doing his best to remind Thalia she wasn't being abducted by angels flying off with her right now by making gusts of water soak into her socks and then absorbing it back. She had a pretty specific scowl on him as she kept trying to kick him for doing it, so his plan was at least working.

"Tell me when it's over," Thalia said. Her eyes were shut tight. The statue was holding on to us so we couldn't fall, but still Thalia clutched his arm like it was the most important thing in the world.

"It was," Thalia promised, she still looked a tad green around the edges just remembering the feeling. Her hands were in a strangle motion though because she was still considering wringing Percy's neck if he didn't cut it out.

"Everything's fine," I promised.

"Are... are we very high?"

"Lie again," Jason mock whispered, but he was completely serious.

I looked down. Below us, a range of snowy mountains zipped by. I stretched out my foot and kicked snow off one of the peaks.

Thalia went from green to the ugly pale of glue gone wrong.

"At least you knew Zeus wouldn't strike you down for this one," Will clearly thought he was being helpful while Thalia tried to get in a shuddering breath. "This was sanctioned by him."

Percy rubbed the back of his head and muttered an awkward apology, quickly waving Magnus on before they had to linger on this long enough for Thalia to come back to herself and pulverize him for sharing that.

"Nah," I said. "Not that high."

"Good man," Jason sighed, resisting the urge to squeeze Thalia's shoulder for comfort. She probably wouldn't take well to anybody but Percy right now as she sat as far back in her seat as she could with her feet planted firmly on the ground.

"We are in the Sierras.'" Zoe yelled. She and Grover were hanging from the arms of the other statue.

Thalia gulped at the visual she hadn't needed and took a deep breath. Then another, this kind of situation called for it.

"I have hunted here before. At this speed, we should be in San Francisco in a few hours."

"Hey, hey, Frisco!" our angel said. "Yo, Chuck! We could visit those guys at the Mechanics Monument again! They know how to party!"

"Oh, man," the other angel said. "I am so there!"

"You guys have visited San Francisco?" I asked.

"We automatons gotta have some fun once in a while, right?" our statue said.

"What kind of Toy Story shenanigans caused security not to notice whatever I just heard," Magnus rubbed at his ear like that one physically pained him.

"That's an interesting one," Will grinned as he considered. "Would the Mist have the statues there when they weren't so as not to have the humans freak out they could move? Or were they programmed to have memories and personalities? I'll ask a few Hephaestus kids when we get to Camp if they have any insights."

"Looking forward to it," Magnus said only a bit reluctantly. If one of them told him to open a hatch, he would bail.

"Those mechanics took us over to the de Young Museum and introduced us to these marble lady statues, see. And—"

"Hank!" the other statue Chuck cut in. "They're kids, man."

"At least somebody remembers every once in a while," Alex frowned.

Percy looked as relieved as anybody to have that interrupted, even as he wondered about those creepy lifelike marble statues he'd seen and what exactly he wouldn't want to hear a bunch of Yancy morons try to brag about in comparison.

"Oh, right." If bronze statues could blush, I swear Hank did.

"Now that takes some talent," Jason grinned.

"Being able to make a robot that can blush, or making a robot blush?" Percy asked.

"Both," Jason nodded.

"Back to flying."

We sped up, so I could tell the angels were excited. The mountains fell away into hills, and then we were zipping along over farmland and towns and highways.

Grover played his pipes to pass the time. Zoe got bored and started shooting arrows at random billboards as we flew by. Every time she saw a Target department store—and we passed dozens of them—she would peg the store's sign with a few bulls-eyes at a hundred miles an hour.

Jason let out an impressed whistle as he watched Thalia. She gave him a weak but genuine grin as she elaborated, "we might be blessed with talent when we join, but it still takes time to build up being that good. Zoe could still outshoot practically anybody I know," she finished a tad wistfully, almost chasing away her tight fear.

Thalia kept her eyes closed the whole way. She muttered to herself a lot, like she was praying.

Thalia swallowed hard against admitting the truth. She'd been reciting an old song Luke had made up. Some goofy one-minute tongue twister he'd play on an old harmonica while collecting money in a cup while she'd gone around and picked a few pockets. She wasn't sure now any more than she was then why that memory had come to mind.

"You did good back there," I told her. "Zeus listened."

It was hard to tell what she was thinking with her eyes closed.

Same as in here where she purposely wasn't looking at anyone now to give away her massively twisted feelings about Percy reminding her of that. Zeus had saved her, twice, but what had he let happen to his son? Had her guess been skewed by hindsight and her path to Annabeth was just pure luck? Or was her father and his favorite daughter guiding them along on a fate's string to her family all this time? She was getting sick to her stomach even trying to figure it out, let alone dumping all of this on anyone else.

"Maybe," she said. "How did you get away from the skeletons in the generator room, anyway? You said they cornered you."

"Percy never told you that," Alex frowned. "He showed up and you started arguing about burritos."

"I figured it out from the way he came bursting in all hysterical," Thalia shrugged, which at least looked casual again while she was still shaking slightly.

I told her about the weird mortal girl, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, who seemed to be able to see right through the Mist. I thought Thalia was going to call me crazy, but she just nodded.

"I can still call you crazy if you want," Thalia offered.

"There is no right answer to that," Percy sighed.

"Some mortals are like that," she said. "Nobody knows why."

Will raised his hand like they were in class and even said, "ooh! Oh!"

Magnus slowly lowered the book with an uneasy smile, like he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer to this. It would probably be more confusing than the idea itself.

Will's smile was inviting, the kind that made you grin along just for being around him as he told Thalia, "I have this theory they're descendants of other demigods! I know most of us die young and they're mostly mortal now, but they have just a hint of godly blood left."

"Like a legacy," Jason agreed slowly, clearly likening to the idea.

"Most of us don't live long to populate that well," Thalia didn't seem very convinced.

"My mom's like that," Percy murmured for himself. He wasn't sure how he felt about it, since that might mean he was descended from some other god than Poseidon, or worse, some long, long line of inbreeding might have happened? Both ideas freaked him out to much to want to know more.

"It's a cool idea though," Magnus nodded. At least it hadn't made his brain hurt worse.

Suddenly I flashed on something I'd never considered.

My mom was like that. She had seen the Minotaur on Half-Blood Hill and known exactly what it was. She hadn't been surprised at all last year when I'd told her my friend Tyson was really a Cyclops. Maybe she'd known all along. No wonder she'd been so scared for me as I was growing up. She saw through the Mist even better than I did.

They'd all guessed that from the beginning. Sally had never batted an eye or made any strange comment about Grover's goat legs, and even the way she spoke of Poseidon seemed...more than any mortal should.

"Well, the girl was annoying," I said.

Percy groaned and looked at Rachel's empty seat. "First time I'm glad she got poofed away, she might have stabbed me with a marker."

"And that's starting kind," Thalia snorted.

"But I'm glad I didn't vaporize her. That would've been bad."

"At least I still got that going for me," Percy smiled.

"I'm sure she'll be glad to know you still don't want her vaporized," Thalia agreed.

Thalia nodded. "Must be nice to be a regular mortal." She said that as if she'd given it a lot of thought.

It had been on her mind near constantly while going to school with Annabeth. Slowly learning how to use a keyboard and constantly glancing over her shoulder while girls around her texted without a second thought. Their careless laughter and loud shrieks, hugging the same friends before and after every class as they casually wondered what was for lunch while Annabeth whispered and muttered about battle strategies to employ if this or that attacked them next.

"Where you guys want to land?" Hank asked, waking me up from a nap.

Thalia looked at him appalled. "You slept while we were dangling for our life!"

He gave her a sheepish smile and said, "at least I didn't try to hold your hand? You would have opened your eyes just to watch me die."

"True," she nodded grumpily. It was worlds better batting the drool off her face than having him keep trying to talk to her. At least she'd been able to pretend just for a few heart-stuttering moments the world wasn't going to end if she opened her eyes while imagining whatever she wanted in her head without interruption.

I looked down and said, "Whoa."

I'd seen San Francisco in pictures before, but never in real life. It was probably the most beautiful city I'd ever seen: kind of like a smaller, cleaner Manhattan, if Manhattan had been surrounded by green hills and fog. There was a huge bay and ships, islands and sailboats, and the Golden Gate Bridge sticking up out of the fog. I felt like I should take a picture or something. Greetings from Frisco. Haven't Died Yet. Wish You Were Here.

"Your mom would love that," Will nodded.

"And me without a stamp," Percy sighed.

"There," Zoe suggested. "By the Embarcadero Building."

"Good thinking," Chuck said. "Me and Hank can blend in with the pigeons."

We all looked at him.

"Kidding," he said. "Sheesh, can't statues have a sense of humor?"

"They can if it's a good one," Nico muttered.

"I'll take a bad sense of humor over no sense of humor," Will offered.

Nico watched him nervously for a moment, wondering if Will was implying he thought he had no sense of humor? Will just kept smiling at him without explanation though and he had no idea why.

As it turned out, there wasn't much need to blend in. It was early morning and not many people were around. We freaked out a homeless guy on the ferry dock when we landed. He screamed when he saw Hank and Chuck and ran off yelling something about metal angels from Mars.

"Poor guy," Alex said with a kind of sympathy that meant she'd have rolled her eyes at another person needing medication they couldn't afford and mildly indulging this.

Magnus felt a quiver of guilt. Were the countless people he'd met like that not crazy at all, but just seeing through the mist and constantly suffering for it? Even if he told them all they were right now, it would only make them feel better for a moment before their world collapsed like his did realizing monsters were real and it wasn't all in their heads.

We said our good-byes to the angels, who flew off to party with their statue friends.

That's when I realized I had no idea what we were going to do next.

We'd made it to the West Coast.

Jason let out a blistering sigh of frustration. Percy had ended up here, twice, and he was starting to feel like there should be a laugh track mocking him for why that still felt so important.

Artemis was here somewhere. Annabeth too, I hoped.

"So near, yet so far," Magnus muttered anxiously. Thalia at least didn't seem too distressed over Annabeth's fate, and he knew the world hadn't ended at the very least, but wondering what agonizing details would be awaiting all of that in between still left him on edge.

But I had no idea how to find them, and tomorrow was the winter solstice. Nor did I have any clue what monster Artemis had been hunting. It was supposed to find us on the quest. It was supposed to "show the trail," but it never had.

"You've had a surprising lack of monster attacks on this," Jason agreed in surprise. "We all didn't think it could be the lion. Only the skeletons and the manticore really. Grover summoned the pig, so I don't think that counts."

Thalia kept the comment to herself Jason was slacking, not counting something as cute as Bessie as a monster.

"The one time I can't be grateful I wasn't chased across the country by some fearsome beast," Percy agreed with a scowl.

Now we were stuck on the ferry dock with not much money, no friends, and no luck.

"Percy, I'm hurt," Thalia pressed her hand to her heart. "I thought we made friends along the way? Grover would be crying right now! and Zoe-"

"I get it, you breeze brain," Percy swatted at her.

"That's worse than air head," she scoffed.

After a brief discussion, we agreed that we needed to figure out just what this mystery monster was.

Magnus swallowed the traitorous comment to Percy he'd switched up his priorities. He was still adamant finding Annabeth, and by proxy Luke, was the most important task and everything would follow.

The argument between him and Jason had never come to a head, let alone simmered all this time as they focused on the path to get there, but Percy said now with his own sense of justification, "Grover and Zoe both agreed finding the monster was about the only thing we could do and I didn't have a better idea how to start finding anything." He glanced at Thalia who had still gone oddly quiet since the metal angel ride.

She gave an unconvincing smile and said, "err, yeah, needed to get the urge to kill something out of my system." She had not been looking forward to confronting Luke. It had been her only driving force as she ran headlong towards it.

"But how?" I asked.

"Nereus," Grover said.

I looked at him. "What?"

"What do you mean what?" Will looked personally offended like Percy had forgotten he was in the room.

"How do you forget advice from a god?" Jason seemed just as baffled at Percy's existence once again.

Percy had to really think for moment, going back a few chapters to recall why he vaguely recognized that name. It had come up around the time he'd been assigned haiku homework.

Apollo had helped them quite a lot, his passage stopping right before the town where Grover had his Pan breakthrough. Yet the prophecy, as always, was only clear with hindsight, and they still had no clue what the rest of it was going to lead to.

Sure they'd gone as far west as they could without leaving America, but they felt no closer to the answer. There had yet been a bane of Olympus? The Hunters and Campers hadn't exactly prevailed along the way so much as just learned not to hate each other while losing one. The last two lines felt as ominous as ever as Percy stewed over what they didn't know. As much as when they'd started all of this. With one day left to figure it all out.

"Isn't that what Apollo told you to do? Find Nereus?"

I nodded. I'd completely forgotten my last conversation with the sun god.

"How do you even?" Thalia would swear he didn't have a brain sometimes if she wasn't forced to hear it right now.

"I've had other things on my mind," Percy reminded with a very obvious look at her. He'd been well distracted by running for his life by a pig and saving Thalia's bacon, then losing Bianca. It hadn't crossed his mind again since.

"The old man of the sea," I remembered. "I'm supposed to find him and force him to tell us what he knows. But how do I find him?"

Zoe made a face. "Old Nereus, eh?"

"You know him?" Thalia asked.

"I'm starting to think she knows everybody," Will said, clearly impressed.

"Being immortal has to come in handy for something," Thalia muttered, still coming to terms with the idea herself.

"My mother was a sea goddess. Yes, I know him, he is never very hard to find. Just follow the smell."

"Err," Magnus looked from the book and around like he was missing something. "Are we still talking about evil Santa? Are you chasing peppermint cookies in San Fran?"

"I couldn't guess," Percy reminded with his own bewildered stare.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Come," she said without enthusiasm. "I will show thee."

Percy was pretty sure Zoe liked him enough now she wouldn't be so unhappy about leading him to his doom, but he still wasn't feeling better about the coming wrestling match. There was just to much he didn't know about what was left of all this.

I knew I was in trouble when we stopped at the Goodwill drop box.

"Because you have no good Will with you?" Will asked innocently.

"I am going to duck tape your mouth," Percy tried to say through a laugh.

"You're only mad because he's right," Thalia chuckled.

Five minutes later, Zoe had me outfitted in a ragged flannel shirt and jeans three sizes too big, bright red sneakers, and a floppy rainbow hat.

"Letting your real colors out I see," Alex studied Percy in a way that concerned him. "If you ever want another wardrobe change, do let me know."

"I will keep that in mind," Percy said nervously, clutching his orange shirt closely while Nico swallowed uncomfortably. At least Percy hadn't started screaming his disgust at wearing a rainbow.

"Oh, yeah," Grover said, trying not to bust out laughing, "you look completely inconspicuous now."

Zoe nodded with satisfaction. "A typical male vagrant."

Magnus looked a little ruffled what that was supposed to mean. He still had on the same clothes he'd been dumped in here with, five layers of shirts with one ripped up black jacket with the stuffing threatening to fall out and the only pair of jeans he owned with hiking boots a half size too small. Did he look like a typical male vagrant?

Compared to Thalia's punk clothing with pins underneath her silver camo, Nico's black aviator jacket that looked just as worn and held on by the seams, and not even getting started on Alex, he wasn't sure what a typical anyone looked like anymore.

"Thanks a lot," I grumbled. "Why am I doing this again?"

"I told thee. To blend in."

"Pretty sure we already looked like homeless kids by that point," Thalia smirked. They'd been running around for days with little sleep in the same clothes they'd left camp in. Grover even still had a chunk of guacamole in his hair she hadn't the chance to mention.

"You couldn't have mentioned that then?" Percy protested.

"And ruin your makeover?" She asked innocently. "Those clothes smelled better than what you had on."

"I'm going to glue a cowboy hat to your head and ruin, this," he waved at her outfit for emphasis.

"I would rock a banjo," she said without concern.

Percy sighed and let it go, knowing a win he couldn't have when he saw one against her.

She led the way back down to the waterfront. After a long time spent searching the docks, Zoe finally stopped in her tracks. She pointed down a pier where a bunch of homeless guys were huddled together in blankets, waiting for the soup kitchen to open for lunch.

Magnus and Alex were both starting to get creeping sensations up their spines. Like they were waiting for the others to turn to them and ask if they were okay and wanted extra blankets. When none did, they unintentionally exchanged relieved looks, and sympathized with Nico keeping his mouth shut about his dad more than ever. Nobody wanted to walk around with a label you couldn't pick for yourself.

"He will be down there somewhere," Zoe said. "He never travels very far from the water. He likes to sun himself during the day."

"How do I know which one is him?"

"Sneak up," she said. "Act homeless. You will know him. He will smell... different."

Jason's nose dilatated on instinct, like he was trying to get a whiff of that now. The smell of the ocean never brought up a pleasant memory in mind, but he'd swear on the styx he should have an idea what Zoe meant. For a moment the flutter of a purple cape rippled in his mind before Thalia gave him a painful nudge, dislodging him from his scrunched up face.

"Like when you accidentally mix cologne and perfume together different?" Alex asked. "Like play-doh you baked? Like fur on fire?"

"You worry me," Percy told her. "I didn't want to ask her what she meant, I'm terrified of how you know any of those."

"I've clearly led a more interesting life than you," she shrugged without concern, and wow was it worrisome to the others she really seemed to mean that after all she'd heard.

"Great." I didn't want to ask for particulars.

"How!?" Jason looked at him dumbfounded anew. "How do you not want to know every detail of what you're about to get into?!"

"I do best when I go in without a plan," Percy shrugged. Why dwell on something that would go wrong anyways?

"And once I find him?"

"Grab him," she said. "And hold on. He will try anything to get rid of thee. Whatever he does, do not let go. Force him to tell thee about the monster."

Jason opened his mouth with a sharp, "make sure the second net has cross-patterned to throw over-" before he stopped with such a strong sense of deja vu. He looked around at Thalia and didn't recognize her for a moment. Equal bouts of pain and electricity zinged down his neck before he shivered. He didn't want to shake it off! Percy was in the area for one page and already actual memories were starting to come back of some life he couldn't begin to guess at.

"I wish we'd thought to bring a net," Percy nodded as he watched him just like everybody else with concern what he'd gotten up to in another life.

"We've got your back," Thalia said. She picked something off the back of my shirt—a big clump of fuzz that came from who-knows-where. "Eww. On second thought... I don't want your back. But we'll be rooting for you."

Grover gave me a big thumbs-up.

I grumbled how nice it was to have super-powerful friends.

Which they were all getting a live reaction of as their chuckling accompanied it.

Then I headed toward the dock.

I pulled my hat down and stumbled like I was about to pass out, which wasn't hard considering how tired I was. I passed our homeless friend from the Embarcadero, who was still trying to warn the other guys about the metal angels from Mars.

Magnus stamped down on the comment Percy was doing a good job off the bat. Maybe they could hang around in line sometime and compare traumas if it wasn't for the fear he still had of Sally getting involved.

He didn't smell good, but he didn't smell... different.

Jason still looked like he wanted to pull his hair out Percy was just going in expecting to figure out what one thing didn't belong in a sea of the strangest people mortals had to offer.

I kept walking.

A couple of grimy dudes with plastic grocery bags for hats checked me out as I came close. "Beat it, kid!" one of them muttered.

"On brand," Thalia sighed, making Alex and Magnus do double takes at her. She'd never said how much time she spent on the streets looking after Annabeth, but it seemed time enough for her to know they wouldn't get sympathy spots to go in first just because of their age. If anything they often got resentment, some assuming they could just go back home if they shut their mouth and sucked it up.

I moved away. They smelled pretty bad, but just regular old bad. Nothing unusual.

There was a lady with a bunch of plastic flamingos sticking out of a shopping cart. She glared at me like I was going to steal her birds.

Magnus was almost smiling for a second, a strange thing in itself to anybody but him. There were crazy bag ladies in every city, it made the world feel not so strange for a second.

At the end of the pier, a guy who looked about a million years old was passed out in a patch of sunlight. He wore pajamas and a fuzzy bathrobe that probably used to be white. He was fat, with a white beard that had turned yellow, kind of like Santa Claus, if Santa had been rolled out of bed and dragged through a landfill.

Magnus squinted his eyes at the book for a moment before he nodded in conclusion. "Got it, Santa still isn't real and you were just being, you."

"I didn't name these chapter titles!" Percy protested. "Don't blame me every time you have a meltdown at them!"

"Fair point," Magnus nodded, "I blame Oceanus."

"Got to give the guy mad props for his writing style though," Alex said with honest admiration. "He's clearly a grumpy old coot at the bottom of the ocean, but he's got a knack for describing all this bizarre stuff."

"Gods help me if it is that Titan posting my thoughts," Percy groaned.

"Gods help him," Thalia smirked. Percy was going to inevitably have a brawl with him before this was over, she knew him to well.

And his smell?

As I got closer, I froze. He smelled bad, all right—but ocean bad. Like hot seaweed and dead fish and brine. If the ocean had an ugly side... this guy was it.

"Fascinating," Will said genuinely. "Does your sweat smell like that Percy?"

"And you all think I'm the crazy one," Percy sighed, and that was the only answer Will was going to get.

I tried not to gag as I sat down near him like I was tired. Santa opened one eye suspiciously. I could feel him staring at me, but I didn't look. I muttered something about stupid school and stupid parents, figuring that might sound reasonable.

"More than you think," Alex muttered. It was the first time she hadn't said something loud and proud for everyone to hear, and it made Magnus want to lean in even closer.

Santa Claus went back to sleep.

I tensed. I knew this was going to look strange. I didn't know how the other homeless people would react.

"Depends on the individuals there," Thalia said. She and Grover would have stepped in if any of them had rushed to help, but most had run before the cops were called, and a fair few just stood there dumbfounded. Only two looked like they'd really want to jump in, so she'd snapped the Mist into helping them see a couple of sea lions wrestling instead.

But I jumped Santa Claus.

"Ahhhhhl" he screamed. I meant to grab him, but he seemed to grab me instead. It was as if he'd never been asleep at all. He certainly didn't act like a weak old man. He had a grip like steel.

Jason gave one last eye roll Zoe might have thought to warn Percy of a trick if the guy had asked, but it was overshadowed by his sickening sense he'd known this himself. It was a great feeling of frustration not targeted at Percy. Whatever plan they'd tried to concoct catching this guy, he got the feeling it hadn't worked.

"Help me!" he screamed as he squeezed me to death.

"That's a crime!" one of the other homeless guys yelled. "Kid rolling an old man like that!"

Nico was surprised that any of them cared. He was homeless and not many people looked at him twice when he was chased by anything the Mist had them see.

I rolled, all right—straight down the pier until my head slammed into a post. I was dazed for a second, and Nereus's grip slackened. He was making a break for it. Before he could, I regained my senses and tackled him from behind.

"I don't have any money!" He tried to get up and run, but I locked my arms around his chest. His rotten fish smell was awful, but I held on.

"I lived through Smelly Gabe Land!" Percy cried triumphantly, not even plugging up his nose.

"Not something I'd brag about, but I see your point," Thalia was waving her hand under her nose, she could still vividly remember that reek and she'd been breathing through her mouth as much as possible talking to him.

"I don't want money," I said as he fought. "I'm a half-blood! I want information.'"

"I'm surprised he doesn't just know that," Will frowned. "If he's supposed to be wise enough my dad recommends him, shouldn't he already know the question you want to ask and is just fighting you to earn it?"

"Will, I think you're putting a little to much faith in your dad," Percy tried to say not unkindly.

"Maybe he's like any old man and needs some time to wake up," Nico managed slightly better until he started snickering.

That just made him struggle harder. "Heroes! Why do you always pick on me?"

Thalia was still watching Jason from his last little episode and saw the tick that crossed his face. She felt a pain lance through her, like she was sharing his headache. Heard her mother managing the awful words again through her slurred speech. He'd been in California all along, a place she'd fled when she couldn't find him. What if she'd stayed, tried harder?! Had he been a part of that homeless camp and she'd passed right over him...

"Because you know everything!"

He growled and tried to shake me off his back. It was like holding on to a roller coaster.

"Cool," Alex said.

"How many amusement parks have you been thrown out of?" Magnus asked with resignation already. At least that was one thing he'd never have to worry about paying to get into, sneaking would already be involved when they went- shit-wait-what?

"I'll never tell," she raised a single brow and grinned in a way that made his stomach preform a roller coaster ride of its own.

He thrashed around, making it impossible for me to keep on my feet, but I gritted my teeth and squeezed tighter. We staggered toward the edge of the pier and I got an idea.

"Oh, no!" I said. "Not the water!"

"Percy, with the mad acting skills over here," Jason at least got a good laugh out of that.

"Thank you," Percy grinned, giving his wrist a flippant little twirl he'd learned from Rachel.

The plan worked. Immediately, Nereus yelled in triumph and jumped off the edge.

Together, we plunged into San Francisco Bay.

"That poor, poor fool," Will almost sounded sorry for how bad this guy was about to be beat now.

He must've been surprised when I tightened my grip, the ocean filling me with extra strength. But Nereus had a few tricks left, too. He changed shape until I was holding a sleek black seal.

"Cool!" Magnus blurted. "I didn't think this could get weirder than Santa Claus!"

Alex was studying Magnus, and the book in his hands, and seriously considering turning into a seal right now just to show off. She decided she was going to do it, maybe Magnus would scream, or want to pet the seal...but it didn't work. An eerie, creeping sensation surrounded her for a moment, the horror of being unable to change again- but she had been. She'd felt as normal as ever yesterday. So why couldn't she change animal forms?

And how was it fair Percy had got to keep his hydro powers?!

I've heard people make jokes about trying to hold a greased pig, but I'm telling you, holding on to a seal in the water is harder.

"More like impossible," Thalia said confidently. "You're basically the only one who could."

"Good to know I'm useful for something, wrestling wild hogs into snow and seals in the harbor," he rolled his eyes.

"We can write a children's book about you when we get back," Will snorted.

Nereus plunged straight down, wriggling and thrashing and spiraling through the dark water. If I hadn't been Poseidon's son, there's no way I could've stayed with him.

Nereus spun and expanded, turning into a killer whale, but I grabbed his dorsal fin as he burst out of the water.

A whole bunch of tourists went, "Whoa!"

I managed to wave at the crowd. Yeah, we do this every day here in San Francisco.

"You're a walking tourist attraction," Jason looked a little envious of that like he was thinking of selling tickets to the next show. Like that city needed more revenue.

Thalia could only guess what his real problem was. How much time did he spend in the Bay area? Was it possible he'd been there at that moment, a ghost in the crowd she'd been to distracted to notice by watching Percy pull a Sea World stunt?

Nereus plunged into the water and turned into a slimy eel. I started to tie him into a knot until he realized what was going on and changed back to human form. "Why won't you drown?" he wailed,

"You just said he changed back to human form," Will smirked for the pun.

"You have the worst sense of humor of all," Percy sighed, "nobody laughs at puns except the person who made them."

"Aw, Percy, nobody's ever told me I have a sense of humor before," Will's grin widened, so Percy just let it go before this got any worse.

pummeling me with his fists.

"I'm Poseidon's son," I said.

"Curse that upstart! I was here first!"

Finally he collapsed on the edge of the boat dock. Above us was one of those tourist piers lined with shops, like a mall on water. Nereus was heaving and gasping. I was feeling great. I could've gone on all day, but I didn't tell him that. I wanted him to feel like he'd put up a good fight.

"I don't know if that would win you any favors with him," Nico shook his head. He could probably tell Percy was faking. His admiration was there as always, Percy really was kind to everyone he met.

"I get credit for trying?" He asked innocently.

Nico's heart did a swoop, a tiny little one almost like his emotions had forgotten how to do it as Percy smiled at him and looked away. "Uh, yeah, sure," he muttered far to late.

My friends ran down the steps from the pier.

"You got him!" Zoe said.

"You don't have to sound so amazed," I said.

"She could sound a little more impressed," Magnus agreed, he couldn't imagine anything close to doing that.

"It's quite amazing when Percy manages to do anything without blowing something up," Thalia reminded.

Nereus moaned. "Oh, wonderful. An audience for my humiliation! The normal deal, I suppose? You'll let me go if I answer your question?"

"I've got more than one question," I said.

"Only one question per capture! That's the rule."

I looked at my friends.

This wasn't good. I needed to find Artemis, and I needed to figure out what the doomsday creature was. I also needed to know if Annabeth was still alive, and how to rescue her. How could I ask that all in one question?

"How do we win the quest," Alex said sharply.

"This isn't a game," Jason scowled as he tried to cobble together the best answer.

"There's no downside to what his answer would be though," Alex still shrugged without that much concern.

"What if it has to be more specific and you wasted a question, he just bolts and Percy can't-"

"Hey you two," Thalia put a placating hand on Jason's shoulder while watching Alex carefully. "Let's focus on what did get asked." Swallowing a wince of guilt as Magnus was trying to hold his breath so he didn't read ahead, while side eyeing Percy who looked immensely sick to his stomach.

She knew as well as anyone what he'd most desperately wanted to ask, and a part of her wanted to go back and duck tape Zoe's mouth shut so she couldn't complain when they did ask about Annabeth.

They needed one goal though. The beast a goddess had thought would sway Zeus to their side. It's what Annabeth would have wanted.

A voice inside me was screaming, Ask about Annabeth! That's what I cared about most.

But then I imagined what Annabeth might say. She would never forgive me if I saved her and didn't save Olympus. Zoe would want me to ask about Artemis, but Chiron had told us the monster was even more important.

"We really should have just brought Chiron on this quest," Thalia smacked the side of her head. "Not me and Zoe being right, not even Annabeth! Nooo, it's Chiron!"

"He would have been a faster ride too," Percy nodded like she'd made a great point.

I sighed. "All right, Nereus. Tell me where to find this terrible monster that could bring an end to the gods. The one Artemis was hunting."

The Old Man of the Sea smiled, showing off his mossy green teeth.

"Ew," Magnus muttered, once again wondering how the homeless people up above had better descriptions than some of these gods.

"I bet I could pull that look off," Alex said.

Magnus once again just watched her, like he was imagining it. He still didn't turn away with anything resembling disgust.

"Oh, that's too easy," he said evilly. "He's right there."

Nereus pointed to the water at my feet.

"Can, can he play made you look?" Jason asked mystified.

"Dionysus sits around playing games all day, I wouldn't put it past any of the others," Percy huffed.

"Where?" I said.

"The deal is complete!" Nereus gloated. With a pop, he turned into a goldfish and did a backflip into the sea.

"Now he's just showing off," Alex scowled, and she looked a little more hacked off than usual somebody other than her was doing that.

"You tricked me!" I yelled.

"Wait." Thalia's eyes widened. "What is that?"

"It's not that sea monster Chiron thought it could be is it?" Magnus asked wearily.

"You'll certainly never see it coming," Thalia said with a grim smile.

"MOOOOOOOO!"

Alex and Magnus's mouths flopped open. They didn't even laugh like they had the last two times. Jason looked like he'd tried to swallow Bessie tail first. Percy was cross-eyed.

Thalia smirked she'd been right, again.

I looked down, and there was my friend the cow serpent, swimming next to the dock. She nudged my shoe and gave me the sad brown eyes.

"Duude," Jason finally sounded like his brain was melting too. Percy gave him a commiserating fist bump.

"I don't get it," Magnus was looking from the book to them like he was still waiting for a trick. "Is it a shape shifting monster? Is it trying to steal Percy's heart?"

Alex gave him a distasteful look he'd slipped into calling Bessie non-gender pronouns just because she was revealed to be a monster and decided she was grateful she had kept some of her secrets to herself.

"Oh trust me, Zoe explains," Thalia sighed. There was a hint of unease in her expression again, she was not proud of what happened next and swallowed back the usual selfish need to steal the book away and just gloss over the rest. Her friend had already learned one of her secrets, did Percy need to remember what a gullible selfish idiot she was too?

Jason hadn't judged her fear of heights, maybe she'd get lucky again and her little brother wouldn't want to disown her finding this out too. She still held back a longing she had no idea what kind of hero he was. Did he perhaps have the same fatal flaw as her and would have hesitated too, or was he better than her like she'd always hoped he could be?

"Ah, Bessie," I said. "Not now."

"Mooo!"

Grover gasped. "He says his name isn't Bessie."

"It's comforting that's all he said to Grover, instead of like, die, or, doom," Alex shrugged.

"But why did he hear a cow at the dam but heard Bessie now?" Magnus frowned.

"Eye contact matters," Jason chuckled. He had no clue, but who knew, it usually did elevate conversations.

"You can understand her... er, him?"

Grover nodded. "It's a very old form of animal speech. But he says his name is the Ophiotaurus."

"Why can't things in Greek ever have pronounceable names?" Percy sighed.

Nico bit back the laugh that sprung to mind about Bob the Titan not being as menacing as Iapetus. Some names just had a certain ring to them.

"The Ophi-what?"

"It means serpent bull in Greek," Thalia said.

"Of course it does," Percy sighed.

Jason's face was glazed over with sudden want as he asked greedily of her, "do you have a translation book handy?"

"I study, unlike this dingdong," Thalia smiled in surprise, even a hint of joy. She could still impress her little brother.

"But what's it doing here?"

"Moooooooo!"

"He says Percy is his protector," Grover announced. "And he's running from the bad people. He says they are close."

I was wondering how you got all that out of a single moooooo.

"Dude, I've been wondering that since the poodle," Magnus said.

"Wait," Zoe said, looking at me. "You know this cow?"

I was feeling impatient, but I told them the story.

Thalia shook her head in disbelief. "And you just forgot to mention this before?"

"When would it have come up?" Percy huffed. "When we were running for our lives from that helicopter and Bianca was talking about magical subways? When you weren't talking to me in the car? Oh I know, during that awesome flight with the metal angels!"

Thalia looked ready to spear his guts if he didn't shut up, so Magnus graciously kept reading to prevent that mess.

"Well... yeah." It seemed silly, now that she said it, but things had been happening so fast. Bessie, the Ophiotaurus, seemed like a minor detail.

"I'll give Percy that," Will nodded. "He did say he goes out and rescues hippocampi from that situation all the time. Unless he just sporadically mentioned it for no reason, it didn't seem like it would come up."

"Thank you," Percy grinned.

"He's still a smart ass," Thalia scoffed.

"We have that in common," Percy smirked.

"I am a fool," Zoe said suddenly. "I know this story!"

"What story?"

"From the War of the Titans," she said. "My... my father told me this tale, thousands of years ago. This is the beast we are looking for."

"I still feel like that Nereus question was wasted," Percy grumbled, knowing he probably would have mentioned Bessie to Annabeth and she probably knew that myth too. They'd have figured it all out together.

Thalia fidgeted with her bracelet in silent relief Percy hadn't thought about the rest of what Zoe had just said. That Zoe's father apparently put her to sleep with bed time stories of monsters destroying the world.

"Bessie?" I looked down at the bull serpent. "But... he's too cute. He couldn't destroy the world."

"That is how we were wrong," Zoe said. "We've been anticipating a huge dangerous monster, but the Ophiotaurus does not bring down the gods that way. He must be sacrificed."

"MMMM," Bessie lowed.

"I don't think he likes the S-word," Grover said.

I patted Bessie on the head, trying to calm him down. He let me scratch his ear, but he was trembling.

"How could anyone hurt him?" I said. "He's harmless."

Zoe nodded. "But there is power in killing innocence. Terrible power. The Fates ordained a prophecy eons ago, when this creature was born. They said that whoever killed the Ophiotaurus and sacrificed its entrails to fire would have the power to destroy the gods."

"And Percy just, stumbled across this thing?" Jason looked like he was being had. "In the backyard of his camp? Is this some sort of trap?"

"It's always a trap," Percy shivered at his words. It all felt very final all of a sudden, and the cold chill breaking out on the back of his neck promised the end would not go quietly.

"MMMMMM!"

"Um," Grover said. "Maybe we could avoid talking about entrails, too."

"Would one of you please learn to censor yourself around the embodiment of the innocent creature," Will chuckled.

"At least he probably didn't hear our dam jokes," Thalia grinned.

Thalia stared at the cow serpent with wonder. "The power to destroy the gods... how? I mean, what would happen?"

"No one knows," Zoe said. "The first time, during the Titan war, the Ophiotaurus was in fact slain by a giant ally of the Titans, but thy father, Zeus, sent an eagle to snatch the entrails away before they could be tossed into the fire. It was a close call. Now, after three thousand years, the Ophiotaurus is reborn."

"You know what Percy, I take it back," Alex laughed. "I've never met someone in person who would name a world destroying creature something as cute as Bessie."

Magnus grinned to himself as he imagined showing her the sign Hearth made up for Hagrid, knowing she'd get a kick out of that later. Maybe they could sit around and read that book next...

"Why thank you," Percy gave a gracious bow.

Thalia sat down on the dock. She stretched out her hand. Bessie went right to her.

Thalia placed her hand on his head. Bessie shivered.

Thalia's expression bothered me. She almost looked... hungry.

"I'd always wanted to try rattlesnake," she tried and failed at convincing sarcasm. She had been in awe Percy had found this thing, the power he could have had without even realizing it, but of course he'd fallen naturally into the roll of protector first and foremost. How the prophecy seemed shaped in that moment like countless times before to pin them against each other... and who would come out on top.

"We have to protect him," I told her. "If Luke gets hold of him—"

"Luke wouldn't hesitate," Thalia muttered. "The power to overthrow Olympus. That's... that's huge."

"Glad we can agree on that," Percy muttered uneasily. Thalia looked, conflicted, in here. That look of hunger was long gone in memory only, but it disturbed him a bit she hadn't denied it either.

"Yes, it is, my dear," said a man's voice in a heavy French accent.

"Oh gods, not the French," Alex smirked.

"I'd rather somebody try to convince me to eat a snail than have this guy back," Magnus groaned.

"And it is a power you shall unleash."

The Ophiotaurus made a whimpering sound and submerged.

I looked up. We'd been so busy talking, we'd allowed ourselves to be ambushed.

Jason looked nauseous at such a fumble while Percy shifted from his usual bemused expression at how his life was going, to battle ready. The power that lit up his eyes should have that manticore running.

Standing behind us, his two-color eyes gleaming wickedly, was Dr. Thorn, the manticore himself.

"This is just pairrr-fect," the manticore gloated.

Percy had never thought he'd agree with a monster, but his sword in hand did so for him. He owed this manticore a world of pain...if only he hadn't been caught at the worst time! He had to protect the Ophi-whats-it-Bessie!

He was wearing a ratty black trench coat over his Westover Hall uniform, which was torn and stained. His military haircut had grown out spiky and greasy. He hadn't shaved recently, so his face was covered in silver stubble. Basically he didn't look much better than the guys down at the soup kitchen.

"Sounds to me like he grew a wee bit obsessed," Nico muttered. Yes he was speaking from personal experience.

"He should have more than one hobby," Will agreed brightly, making Nico snort in surprise.

"Long ago, the gods banished me to Persia," the manticore said. "I was forced to scrounge for food on the edges of the world, hiding in forests, devouring insignificant human farmers for my meals. I never got to fight any great heroes. I was not feared and admired in the old stories! But now that will change. The Titans shall honor me, and I shall feast on the flesh of half-bloods!"

"I knew that," Jason grinned with delight. "I don't know where I read that, but I knew it."

"I never really wanted to know what a monsters dream job was," Magnus looked a little uncomfortable, he'd never thought he'd tell someone not to follow their passion before.

"Well the guys about to be famous now," Percy's scowl promised. "The first manticore to ever be drowned by me!"

On either side of him stood two armed security guys, some of the mortal mercenaries I'd seen in D.C. Two more stood on the next boat dock over, just in case we tried to escape that way. There were tourists all around—walking down the waterfront, shopping at the pier above us—but I knew that wouldn't stop the manticore from acting.

Percy's confidence was already starting to feel weighted down though. He didn't know how he'd made that toilet explode. He couldn't possibly use the water to just shield his friends without causing a massive hurricane, and even if he could, he was not comfortable setting up mortals to die like he did that pig Ares set after him. They were plenty trapped.

"Where... where are the skeletons?" I asked the manticore.

He sneered. "I do not need those foolish undead! The General thinks I am worthless? He will change his mind when I defeat you myself!"

I needed time to think. I had to save Bessie. I could dive into the sea, but how could I make a quick getaway with a five-hundred-pound cow serpent? And what about my friends?

Magnus bit back the comment they weren't likely to be followed into the water, and he'd used an air bubble last time to at least make sure Annabeth could keep breathing. He didn't know the extent of how Percy's powers worked, maybe even he didn't know that.

"We beat you once before," I said.

Nico made an uncomfortable little frown as he swallowed the idea of correcting Percy on something. Technically they really hadn't, Annabeth had saved them.

"Who's this we?" Alex had no problems calling out. "You're on this quest because Annabeth pulled this guy over a cliff."

"What I said sounded better than reminding me of that," Percy scowled, though he'd happily launch Thorn over another cliff with Annabeth safely beside him if that was how this monster was destined to die.

Nico let out a brittle sigh and a good mental scolding. It was no wonder Percy never took notice of him, he never gave him a reason to. There had been no good reason not to say that and at least garner Percy's temporary eye roll like Alex got. He had no one to blame but himself for constantly feeling invisible to him, but there was still that fear lodged in him. That if he ever did try to have anything resembling a conversation with Percy, it would somehow be worse than he was feeling now.

Though that was hard to believe at the moment.

"Ha! You could barely fight me with a goddess on your side. And, alas... that goddess is preoccupied at the moment. There will be no help for you now."

Help. The word still burned in Thalia's memory of all the ways it had come in vastly different forms. Her own father, Apollo and Artemis, Athena, hell even Dionysus saving their bacon while Percy always helped her remember the best parts of herself. Thorn had no idea what kind of help they had on her side, and her dark smile set all of their hair on end to much to ask. Nobody would ever make her feel helpless again.

Zoe notched an arrow and aimed it straight at the manticore's head.

"I'm more surprised she didn't do that while he was monologuing," Alex admitted.

"She was probably feeling a little homesick, Persia being mentioned and all," Thalia shook her head. Alex still had a unique form of annoyance, picking on their surprise.

The guards on either side of us raised their guns.

"Wait!" I said. "Zoe, don't!"

The manticore smiled. "The boy is right, Zoe Nightshade. Put away your bow. It would be a shame to kill you before you witnessed Thalia's great victory."

"What are you talking about?" Thalia growled. She had her shield and spear ready.

"Surely it is clear," the manticore said. "This is your moment. This is why Lord Kronos brought you back to life. You will sacrifice the Ophiotaurus. You will bring its entrails to the sacred fire on the mountain. You will gain unlimited power. And for your sixteenth birthday, you will overthrow Olympus."

Percy's nerves quivered in place like an interpretive dance. A flimsy idea that had gained more traction the more he thought about it and always sounded more believable each time.

It was like she'd told him, she'd already lost everything. This quest was supposed to get her only family back, but somewhere along the way even Thalia had shifted her focus to finding the monster over Annabeth. She was losing faith in why she was fighting.

Percy would just have to remind her, and he opened his mouth to do just that before Magnus kept reading, and the vivid scoff followed by his disparaging voice showed how much Magnus thought of that idea himself. He might not have spent much time around his cousin since they were little, but they were quite similar. Annabeth would never lose faith in Thalia, she'd remember that.

No one spoke. It made terrible sense. Thalia was only two days away from turning sixteen. She was a child of the Big Three. And here was a choice, a terrible choice that could mean the end of the gods. It was just like the prophecy said.

"We actually don't know the exact words of the prophecy," Jason reminded sharply, sounding very much like Chiron. A scholar not letting his class get away from the thesis. "For all we know neither of you are, stop worrying about details you can't control."

"This coming from the guy who's been marking every little detail he can find," Thalia's smile was a bit strained. She was about to massively disappoint Jason and take back whatever pride he might once have had on her when he heard she'd actually hesitated.

I wasn't sure if I felt relieved, horrified, or disappointed. I wasn't the prophecy kid after all. Doomsday was happening right now.

"The worst part is always the waiting," Magnus agreed like he had some degree in psychology he'd never shared.

"The worst part is the constant interruptions," Nico muttered. They'd be done by now otherwise.

I waited for Thalia to tell the manticore off, but she hesitated. She looked completely stunned.

"I think you compartmentalized too well," Jason told her with a little to much confidence. "You filed the idea away and managed to lose it in the shuffle."

She looked miserable as her eyes darted to him and away. Jason had her spot on, she had been managing to put off the worry of everything except finding Annabeth so well she'd barely felt a thing during this quest except angry, tired, and for one brief moment drunk and loopy with laughter before fear took over. Her mother and all who Beryl reminded her of, Bianca, even her impending birthday had been collecting dust in safe corners of her mind until that moment where Thorn threw in her face she could fix it all. Have the power to do anything, like bring her brother back, fix her family.

"You know it is the right choice," the manticore told her. "Your friend Luke recognized it.

He'd managed to say the exact right thing to her too. He'd answered a question she'd been asking herself since she woke up. Luke had seen no other way out, and there had been a moment, a split second as her mind conjured up the image, she could have him back too. Happy, beside her, to finish what they'd started together...

You shall be reunited with him. You shall rule this world together under the auspices of the Titans. Your father abandoned you, Thalia. He cares nothing for you. And now you shall gain power over him. Crush the Olympians underfoot, as they deserve. Call the beast! It will come to you. Use your spear."

"Thalia," I said, "snap out of it!"

She looked at me the same way she had the morning she woke up on Half-Blood Hill, dazed and uncertain. It was almost like she didn't know me. "I... I don't—"

'I don't know how to give it up,' she'd almost stuttered. The power, the yearning for more. If her fatal flaw wasn't hubris like Annabeth's, than it was certainly a craving to be needed. Like her father. Not in charge, she'd resented Zoe for a multitude of reasons, but sharing the decisions was a personal problem she tried to over come. No, Thorn had dug right into her strongest desire to make the world bend to her will so nobody could ever take her family away from her again.

"Your father helped you," I said. "He sent the metal angels. He turned you into a tree to preserve you."

Her father who had let her die, let her brother vanish...the same father who might have led her right to Annabeth and Luke when she'd needed them most and saved enough of her to be reborn in just the right circumstances. It had to be impossible he'd know one day she'd get a chance to come back, but Percy had looked at her and promised yet another answer she'd woken up in this world needing. Maybe Zeus had let her tree be poisoned, had done nothing to save the camp, because it helped get her out.

Her hand tightened on the shaft of her spear.

I looked at Grover desperately. Thank the gods, he understood what I needed. He raised his pipes to his mouth and played a quick riff.

The manticore yelled, "Stop him!"

The guards had been targeting Zoe, and before they could figure out that the kid with the pipes was the bigger problem,

"A rather dumb mistake on their part, those things are the most dangerous weapon there," Magnus said confidently. They could both do magic and bash someone's head in.

the wooden planks at their feet sprouted new branches and tangled their legs. Zoe let loose two quick arrows that exploded at their feet in clouds of sulfurous yellow smoke. Fart arrows!

"And here I thought she reserved those only for me," Thalia said with her usual grin in place like nothing had happened.

Percy breathed a sigh of relief and gave himself a mental kick for each time he'd doubted her in here.

Jason was still looking at her kind of wearily, but in a concerned way, like he wanted to ask if she was alright but thought she might use that spear on him if he tried.

The guards started coughing. The manticore shot spines in our direction, but they ricocheted off my lion's coat.

"Grover," I said, "tell Bessie to dive deep and stay down!"

"Moooooo!" Grover translated. I could only hope that Bessie got the message.

"What would happen if he spoke ox right then or something?" Magnus couldn't help but laugh even in this most serious of situations.

"He'd tell Bessie with an accent I hope," Percy frowned with plenty of worry for both of them.

"The cow..." Thalia muttered, still in a daze.

"Yes, very good Thalia," but there was no mocking in Alex's voice for Thalia somehow unintentionally repeating her and Magnus's joke this whole book.

"Maybe next time I'll identify what Percy is," she agreed with a cheerful, if reluctant enough smile.

"Come on!" I pulled her along as we ran up the stairs to the shopping center on the pier.

We dashed around the corner of the nearest store. I heard the manticore shouting at his minions, "Get them!"

"I always hated redundant orders like that," Nico rolled his eyes. "After them, catch them, stop right there, action speaks louder than words!"

"If I ever have an evil mad man chasing me I'll be sure to tell him he's being cliché," Will grinned.

Tourists screamed as the guards shot blindly into the air.

We scrambled to the end of the pier. We hid behind a little kiosk filled with souvenir crystals—wind chimes and dream catchers and stuff like that, glittering in the sunlight.

"This isn't the kind of bad vibe I think they'll be able to take away," Percy scowled.

"I bet the kiosk person will still try," Jason squirmed, still watching Thalia more than paying attention.

There was a water fountain next to us.

"Could you squirt them in the face with that Percy?" Magnus asked with a resigned air of having to ask.

"Maybe to annoy them," he frowned.

"To bad there's not a bathroom around, we could use you becoming one with the plumbing again," Thalia smirked.

"You guys are never letting that go," Percy groaned.

"Nope," she agreed.

Down below, a bunch of sea lions were sunning themselves on the rocks.

"At least somebody's having a good time," Jason muttered, squinting a bit at nothing in here. He'd still swear this whole scenario should feel familiar, minus the being chased by an angry French manticore, though that didn't seem as wildly out of place as it should have.

The whole of San Francisco Bay spread out before us: the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island, and the green hills and fog beyond that to the north. A picture-perfect moment, except for the fact that we were about to die and the world was going to end.

"Couldn't ask for better circumstances?" Will offered.

"The not dying part!" Percy scoffed.

"You didn't," Will waved at him obviously, "and now you get to remember that lovely view you'll probably never see again."

"I'm going to shove your optimism so far up your-" Percy sounded more exasperated at his kidding at a time like this than anything, but Nico still cleared his throat to get a move on already.

"Go over the side!" Zoe told me. "You can escape in the sea, Percy. Call on thy father for help. Maybe you can save the Ophiotaurus."

Percy had just reminded Thalia that their parents weren't uncaring, but he still swallowed a bitter taint of his own his father might deliver one scrap of help, and a self-serving one at that in protecting a beast who could destroy him. If he asked his dad for anything more, like saving all of his friends too right there on the ocean front, it would probably be to close to that whole pesky interfering business.

She was right, but I couldn't do it.

"I won't leave you guys," I said. "We fight together."

"You have to get word to camp!" Grover said. "At least let them know what's going on!"

"The most awkward part is I don't even think a tsunami in California would make the headlines in New York," Alex said. More likely the reason Percy couldn't do that was he didn't have control enough of his powers to not swipe up his friends and countless pedestrians in the crossfire, again. Man it would be more helpful if the bad guys would stop catching up to them in places Percy couldn't conveniently destroy.

Then I noticed the crystals making rainbows in the sunlight. There was a drinking fountain next to me...

"Get word to camp," I muttered. "Good idea."

I uncapped Riptide and slashed off the top of the water fountain. Water burst out of the busted pipe and sprayed all over us.

Thalia gasped as the water hit her. The fog seemed to clear from her eyes. "Are you crazy?" she asked.

"Always," Percy agreed. "What does that make you Thals?" His smirk grew at calling out how similar they were.

She smirked in the exact same way and agreed, "crazier."

"Bet I'm declared craziest by the end of this," Percy said with way to much confidence.

"Only because we're following your adventures," she reminded with an even more annoying smirk than the last one. "Now if we were following the Hunters around-"

"It's not like that's my fault," Percy groaned, giving her a shove. "If I could trade I would!"

"No you wouldn't," she said softly, her mind on one person.

Percy sighed, but agreed, "no I wouldn't," his mind on the same blond.

But Grover understood.

"And that is why Grover is my first best friend," Percy said with pride, elbowing Thalia even more. "He goes right along with my crazy schemes while you were in a fog!"

"I was having an identity crisis," she agreed without a drop of chagrin. "You're lucky I came out of it, or you would have been my first victim."

He laughed again, properly without a bit of hesitation, and she sighed everything felt almost back to normal for a second.

He was already fishing around in his pockets for a coin. He threw a golden drachma into the rainbows created by the mist and yelled, "O goddess, accept my offering!"

The mist rippled.

"Camp Half-Blood!" I said.

And there, shimmering in the Mist right next to us, was the last person I wanted to see: Mr. D, wearing his leopard-skin jogging suit and rummaging through the refrigerator.

Percy slammed his palm into his face in an almost painful sounding strike, and then dragged his hand down to his chin like slowly dripping acid.

"I'm very sad to see you didn't learn your lesson about this the first time," Magnus agreed with that display.

"Chiron is one less syllable than your camp, it's faster," Jason agreed like that was going to make all the difference next time.

Percy still had his head bowed towards his hand like he wanted to slap himself again. How were they not all dead?

He looked up lazily. "Do you mind?"

"Where's Chiron!" I shouted.

"How rude." Mr. D took a swig from a jug of grape juice. "Is that how you say hello?"

"Hello," I amended. "We're about to die! Where's Chiron?"

"If that place ever got a phone, that should be the recorded message," Alex nodded.

"Who says it isn't?" Will grinned. "It's option two though, you don't want to know what one is." Why Dionysius had insisted on offering a connection to Olympus that left you on hold forever first they'd never know...

Mr. D considered that. I wanted to scream at him to hurry up, but I knew that wouldn't work. Behind us, footsteps and shouting—the manticore's troops were closing in.

"About to die," Mr. D mused. "How exciting.

"Is it really though?" Magnus frowned. "It sounds to me like it happens at that Camp all the time."

"Maybe iris-messaging has more entertainment value than the real stuff," Percy rolled his eyes.

"I doubt the quality is better, and the off screen developments have to be lacking," Thalia sniffed with distaste.

I'm afraid Chiron isn't here. Would you like me to take a message?"

"I have several for him," Alex's tone promised an expletive after every word.

I looked at my friends. "We're dead."

"You're not doing a very good job of that," Jason at least sounded relieved to contradict that.

Thalia gripped her spear. She looked like her old angry self again. "Then we'll die fighting."

"I really don't want that to be your last words," Percy said, while sounding genuinely in awe of his friend.

"Hasn't happened yet," her smile was grim but proud as Percy gave her one of those looks that meant he was on the exact same wavelength as her. Jason, to her surprise, was still watching her with the same concern like she was still in that foggy state. It was surprisingly kind of him, though she couldn't imagine why he was.

"How noble," Mr. D said, stifling a yawn.

"Does he have a permanent hangover?" Alex rolled her eyes.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Magnus couldn't imagine any hair of the dog could cure him.

"So what is the problem, exactly?"

I didn't see that it would make any difference, but I told him about the Ophiotaurus.

"Mmm." He studied the contents of the fridge. "So that's it. I see."

"You don't even care!" I screamed. "You'd just as soon watch us die!"

"Let's see. I think I'm in the mood for pizza tonight."

Percy looking grudgingly respectful of that for a moment. He'd want that to be his last meal too. Didn't make him less of a jackass.

I wanted to slash through the rainbow and disconnect, but I didn't have time. The manticore screamed, "There!" And we were surrounded. Two of the guards stood behind him. The other two appeared on the roofs of the pier shops above us. The manticore threw off his coat and transformed into his true self, his lion claws extended and his spiky tail bristling with poison barbs.

"Excellent," he said. He glanced at the apparition in the mist and snorted. "Alone, without any real help. Wonderful."

"Well now he went and done it," Will scoffed with the same amount of confidence as ever. The one way to piss off any god was to tell them what they couldn't do.

"You could ask for help," Mr. D murmured to me, as if this were an amusing thought. "You could say please."

"When pigs fly!" Percy snapped. He'd go down in any fight with his head high and pride intact before he pleaded for help, only to hear the maniacal laughter from the wine god!

When wild boars fly, I thought. There was no way I was going to die begging a slob like Mr. D, just so he could laugh as we all got gunned down.

Percy managed a smile through his gritted teeth as he kept a tight hold on his pen. It was a relief in some part he hadn't changed to much over the years.

Zoe readied her arrows. Grover lifted his pipes. Thalia raised her shield, and I noticed a tear running down her cheek. Suddenly it occurred to me: this had happened to her before.

Thalia had never felt shocked before. She was usually the one doing that. The kind of heart-skip, breath catching feeling as she quickly rubbed at her cheek to hide any such thing had been there as she did a double take at Percy. Damn this boy for always noticing everything but the battle at hand!

She couldn't say what sort of expression would have been on his face at the time. Her sole focus had been on Thorn. She saw now though. It was pity mingled with yet more understanding in those sea green eyes. He would have done anything to save her in that moment.

Like make a pig fly, or something even more unthinkable.

She had been cornered on Half-Blood Hill. She'd willingly given her life for her friends. But this time, she couldn't save us.

How could I let that happen to her?

"Please, Mr. D," I muttered. "Help."

"Percy," she didn't have the words. She hadn't heard what he'd said when he'd muttered all those years ago. She'd thought it had been a self serving act, that Dionysius had changed his mind when Thorn had spoken to spare her. Even Mr. D wouldn't want her falling into the wrong hands, it was more convenient to save her.

Her friend just gave her a casual grin of no regrets. Percy gave her a little tip of his head, and then pressed his finger to his lips and pointed at the book. Despite his calm mood back as placid as ever, he clearly was going to pretend he didn't know if it had worked until the book said so. Not to spare her having to choke out a thanks or anything.

Of course, nothing happened.

The manticore grinned. "Spare the daughter of Zeus. She will join us soon enough. Kill the others."

Magnus felt like the words were being jerked out of him one syllable at a time. Camp Half-Blood had felt like a morbid place to him the second it was described, a 'home' designed to train kids that were just going to die inside the boarders as quickly as outside.

He found in this moment though a sense of understanding, like group therapy. A way to accept an outcome all those kids were going to face, because he was obviously the only one still gob-smacked over the careless words out of that monsters mouth.

The men raised their guns, and something strange happened. You know how you feel when all the blood rushes to your head, like if you hang upside down and turn right-side up too quickly? There was a rush like that all around me, and a sound like a huge sigh. The sunlight tinged with purple. I smelled grapes and something more sour—wine.

SNAP!

It was the sound of many minds breaking at the same time. The sound of madness. One guard put his pistol between his teeth like it was a bone and ran around on all fours. Two others dropped their guns and started waltzing with each other. The fourth began doing what looked like an Irish clogging dance. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so terrifying.

"I think it can be both just fine," Thalia promised. Zoe had been just as guilty as her giving a self pinch and Grover's mouth had fallen comically wide open.

"No!" screamed the manticore. "I will deal with you myself!"

His tail bristled, but the planks under his paws erupted into grape vines, which immediately began wrapping around the monster's body, sprouting new leaves and clusters of green baby grapes that ripened in seconds as the manticore shrieked, until he was engulfed in a huge mass of vines, leaves, and full clusters of purple grapes. Finally the grapes stopped shivering, and I had a feeling that somewhere inside there, the manticore was no more.

Percy's fingers twitched once in regret. That he hadn't gotten his revenge for this creature making him think Annabeth was dead.

It only lasted a moment as relief swept over him and he gave a cheerful high-five to Thalia. Another day they lived!

She gave him a rueful shake of her head as she gave him an enthusiastic answer by doing so back.

"Well," said Dionysus, closing his refrigerator. "That was fun."

"Was it?" Magnus asked in concern. "Because I'm now over here shitting myself how long range he has!"

Nobody answered him, as usual, which probably meant he'd never stop hyperventilating if he got an answer.

I stared at him, horrified. "How could you... How did you—"

"Such gratitude," he muttered. "The mortals will come out of it. Too much explaining to do if I made their condition permanent. I hate writing reports to Father."

"They have to file reports?" Alex looked personally offended paperwork existed at that moment.

"I'm sure he just makes the satyrs do it," Will grinned, making them all smile for a moment as they realized Mr. D was just brushing off his moment where he'd saved their life.

He stared resentfully at Thalia. "I hope you learned your lesson, girl. It isn't easy to resist power, is it?"

Thalia blushed as if she were ashamed.

"We really are a lot a like, it's eerie how Annabeth called that," Percy told her without surprise. "We both over came our fatal flaws on our first quest, got our asses saved by a surprise god, Grover even got to start both by saving some dumbass kid."

"Hey," Nico frowned, even if he found himself glowing with shock and pride Percy had really just compared them. The words had really come out of his mouth, he'd seen it in person!

"Stop trying to be all happy and encouraging Percy, it's creepy," Thalia was doing anything but flushing with shame now as she rolled her eyes at him with her usual grin.

"Mr. D," Grover said in amazement. "You... you saved us."

"Mmm. Don't make me regret it, satyr. Now get going, Percy Jackson.

Magnus stuttered over his name like he was Jason trying to read Greek. "Did he just say your name?"

"Holy toledo!" Jason yelped just as loudly. "I didn't think he learned your names!"

"He has to get them wrong on purpose somehow," Percy looked just as dazed, even plugging his nose up for a moment to make sure that crazy smell of grapes and minds snapping wasn't affecting him.

Will looked downright smug as he savored all of their shock. It was almost sad, he was the only one not surprised. Mr. D did care about them, in his way. It took some time to get used to him and his subtleties, but considering he'd never actually blasted a kid, he'd always been sure of it.

Nico picked at his lip curiously for a moment before he said to nobody in particular, "names have power. It's possible the god was even evoking a little something extra, never saying any names unless he meant it."

Percy looked at him like he was crazy now. "Have you been sniffing the grapes? There's no way Mr. D thinks of us as worthy of that kind of idea."

Nico didn't feel very abashed though, especially since Will looked extremely interested beside him like it was something he'd want to ask Mr. D about. Nico watched as Percy turned back to the book, and then made himself look away too without expecting more, which was growing easier with practice.

I've bought you a few hours at most."

"The Ophiotaurus," I said. "Can you get it to camp?"

Mr. D sniffed. "I do not transport livestock. That's your problem."

"Isn't his sacred animal big cats or something? Shouldn't he be able to oversea that?" Magnus asked. He figured that was why he always wore the printed jogging outfit.

"In some myths it's also a donkey," Thalia snorted.

"I have so many questions," Magnus muttered, rubbing his forehead in exhaustion.

"I'm sure the answer in this particular case is, he's done more work in those five seconds than he's had to in centuries," Alex reminded.

"But where do we go?"

Dionysus looked at Zoe. "Oh, I think the huntress knows. You must enter at sunset today, you know, or all is lost. Now good-bye. My pizza is waiting."

"He didn't even threaten to throw you off another building," Jason said in admiration.

"Must have been a good pizza," Percy said, just as dumbstruck.

"Mr. D," I said.

He raised his eyebrow.

"You called me by my right name," I said. "You called me Percy Jackson."

"You weren't supposed to point it out!" Alex laughed. "Now he might have been the one to erase your brain just for this!"

Percy flinched uneasily, that wasn't a joke he'd laugh lightly at, but it didn't feel right either. Dionysius could have been sporadically causing memory problems to all the kids at Camp if he'd ever cared enough about one before.

"I most certainly did not, Peter Johnson. Now off with you!"

He waved his hand, and his image disappeared in the mist.

All around us, the manticore's minions were still acting completely nuts. One of them had found our friend the homeless guy, and they were having a serious conversation about metal angels from Mars.

"Now where's my B Alien movie over that," Magnus grinned.

"Awaiting popcorn and the Claymation on us," Alex smirked. Magnus wondered for a moment if that crazy juice was leaking through the book. That wasn't a date proposal. Right?

Several other guards were harassing the tourists, making animal noises and trying to steal their shoes.

"I swear you bring the strangeness of New York with you everywhere you go," Jason told while giving one last annoyed sigh as he curled his toes up in his sneakers and rubbed at his forehead. He still felt like the crazy one in the room for swearing some of this should be familiar!

I looked at Zoe. "What did he mean... 'You know where to go'?"

Her face was the color of the fog. She pointed across the bay, past the Golden Gate. In the distance, a single mountain rose up above the cloud layer.

"The garden of my sisters," she said. "I must go home."

"Do they still remember she exists?" Magnus asked, his mouth dry as sandpaper, his tongue feeling rough with the stress even if he wouldn't be the one reading it. "What happens when you're blotted out of existence and try to go back."

Percy was making grumbling noises of protest and had his eyes closed to bully down the pain of any idea what was coming, so Alex quickly made a swipe for the book. The more he paid attention to these books rather than whatever that was, the better for all of them.

#pjo #Percy Jackson #Thalia Grace #Jason Grace #alex fierro #magnus chase #nico di angelo #will solace #percabeth #solangelo #fierrochase #reading the books #fanfiction #Titan's Curse #HDYSG #hoo

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