#barbs with the purple polish this time around

[the-travelling-witch]

by the combined power of original and nightbringer, i have obtained both my sillies

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

23+9 for Dani/Vale? Or maybe 13+14 for Rosquez?

rosquez: 13 (chastity) + 14 (inexperienced partner)

Valentino swallows convulsively, a noise caught in his throat, not unlike a giggle. Hysterical.

Marc digs the soles of his feet into the mattress. He’s sweating, mouth slack, hips twitching—humping the air. Like this, with his legs up and spread, it looks—well, it looks like Valentino is fucking a star-struck 20-year-old who would let him do anything he wanted, yes please with shining dark eyes.

Even put him in a cock cage just because.

Something churns heavy and buttery in his stomach, a little too close to shame, but Valentino can’t stop himself. Watches the movement of his own hand in this out of body delirium, from Marc’s waxed-smooth thigh to the crease of his hip. The cage is silvery and polished against Marc’s golden skin. Valentino is pretty sure he tans naked—which sounds absurd but isn’t the main issue.

His dick looks tiny tucked inside the metal. It looks like it hurts. This sudden mean want tugs in his guts like a fishhook. He rips his eyes from Marc’s cock. Valentino had put him in it when he was still mostly soft, not flushed purple and leaking and jolting when he drags his hand from his hip to his hole.

One finger goes in easily. Marc is loose, wet with come.

Two, then.

He hooks them up—mean, precise. Marc turns his head to the side and jerks, pours out a string of warbled words in a thick Catalan. Inside him, it’s fever hot. Dizzying. Seeing him fuck back against his hand is a punch to the side of his jaw.

“Valentino,” he says—pleads. His name sounds odd in his mouth, strained.

Valentino like please. He isn’t feeling very inclined to mercy, though.

Puts on a show, instead. Same old cruelty. He has to fumble for the right smirk but thinks it lands right—Marc shivers, bottom lip wobbling. Opens his mouth to pant.

“I could—” The idea lands the bike kicking him off. Red-hot. Guilty. He can barely hear himself through the pounding of blood in his ears, but his mouth ties him to that. “I could keep you like this until Valencia. An orgasm would be a nice little reward if you can beat Jorge, no?”

Marc keens. His lashes flutter madly over his cheeks, like he’s trying to not cry.

For a split-second, for this nauseous three quarters of a heartbeat, Valentino fucked up irreversibly. Goes cold to the tips of his fingers, still buried in Marc, dragging overstimulated whimpers from him. It’s too much. It’s way, way, way too much.

“No, you can’t—Valencia is in, ah, a month and a half.”

Valentino tsks. Can’t seem to shut up. “I can. You gave me the key. Told me to only let you come when I thought you’d waited enough.”

Marc is starting to look insolent. Dangerous. So Valentino fucks his fingers in hard, runs a nail over the sliver of skin showing between the little bars. “It was supposed to be tonight,” Marc cries out, tonight high-pitched with a whine.

“You should’ve said so.” He shrugs, theatrical.

But Valentino thinks back to the fumbling, uncomplicated sex he was having at twenty, back when he was starting to get really famous.

And he wasn’t Marc, who acts like he got lost on the way to a minimoto race, dragging his dad around, sleeping on a bunk bed with his brother.

It lingers in his head, the thought ricocheting and hitting every corner on the way. A month and a half to Valencia. How much would Marc cry if Valentino kept his cock locked away. If he’d get desperate in the middle of a race, the bike purring between his legs, metal digging into him all the fucking time.

Perverse, Valentino tells himself, which he’s gotten very used to ignoring.

His dick is starting to get hard again, too quick, pleasure raking over his nerves like barbed wire.

He leans forward, presses a kiss against the corner of Marc’s mouth. Shh, he says, or think he does, with Marc shaking on his fingers.

There is this sob, a pathetic, snotty noise, overwrought. Valentino reaches out for the key on the bedside table mostly on instinct, shit, sorry going through him like an electric shock. His hand, he realizes with a sick jolt, is shaking. Marc stares up at him with huge, liquid eyes, wet with tears.

Then he shakes his head. “Just a little longer.”

Valentino nods like a puppet, not quite sure if he can feel his body. “Alright,” he grits out. The word sounds foreign on his tongue, flayed open.

He’s still thinking about it—a month and a half.

[ladyfromaspookyforest]

ST Season 2 Wardrobe Analysis

Nancy, Jonathan, & Steve

I watched Risky Business for this, you guys. And I hated it. I just need to put that out there. And heads-up: this one is looong.

If you haven't read my other wardrobe posts, here's what you need to know:

Pink (or red) and blue are used to symbolize the idea of the perfect nuclear family or the "norm."

The Byers wear earth tones and warm neutrals.

Steve's color is blue

Nancy's color is purple. She wore mostly pink and blue during season 1, though as she grows into herself, she wears more purple (a blend of the two).

EPISODE 1

For starters, we get a brief snippet of Nancy and Mike fighting at home. Nancy's wearing a soft grey sweater (the go-to neutral color for the Wheelers) and I'm going to be honest: I can't really tell what color the stripes are. They're either pink and blue or purple and blue. Either way, Nancy wearing divided colors, as opposed to just the blend (purple) is an indicator that she has moved backwards into the safe zone of her family's expectations. And we know she's struggling with trying to pretend the events of the last season didn't happen.

Here are some randos, totally decked out in the pink/red and blue palette as a reminder that these are the sheep. Steve is wearing blue and red, the addition of red to his outfit demonstrating that he is trying to buy into this mindset.

Steve wears his jacket all day at school and then takes it off for dinner with the Hollands. Both he and Nancy are putting on performances and both of them are dressed in what I am deeming the Colors of Conformity. The removal of Steve's jacket makes him look more polished. He's lost the sporty half of his sporty-prep look, him bending to fit this situation not only metaphorically through color but literally through style.

Nancy and Steve actually both match this nasty wallpaper, though he pops out more, despite his efforts. But one thing I love is that even the Hollands are doing a terrible job of fitting into their own home/their own lives because look how much the KFC bucket ruins the aesthetic.

Nancy's wearing the Colors of Conformity again, but Nancy's never worn tan or brown before. So while she is still performing, influences from the past year are continuing to leak through. Influences like...

They match! So while Nancy and Steve are both wearing the Colors, their outfits don't actually go together. Whereas Nancy's and Jonathan's do, despite the fact that Nancy is still dragging around these familial/societal expectations.

EPISODE 2

The style of Nancy's outfit (dainty, plaid, little frills alongside the buttons) is absolutely something she would have worn season 1. In fact, the last time she wore a purple sweater was the last day she saw Barb. And in this episode, she sees Faux Barb (we'll call her Farb).

The Farb Incident is a large part of what sets off Nancy's drunken disaster state at the party that night, so this subtle callback to the season 1 outfit is a great detail (aside from the colors, both the S1 and S2 tops have the same type of rounded collars and she's wearing dark wash jeans).

Steve has ditched the red from his previous outfit here so that neither Steve nor Nancy are wearing the Colors of Conformity palette anymore (woo!). The dark blue shirt with a green vest is a bit of an inversion of a couple of his season 1 outfits (green or teal shirt, blue jacket). In those episodes, Steve realized he'd fucked up and tried to make it up to Nancy. This season 2 episode also shows Steve trying to connect with Nancy, and just like these episodes below, it doesn't work because in all of these moments, though he is being genuine, the comfort he has to offer isn't the comfort she needs.

Jonathan calling himself "a guy who hates parties" at a costume party where he is dressed as himself is a very blatant demonstration that Jonathan refuses to pretend. And not only is he dressed in his own clothes to make this declaration, but he's in a jacket he wears constantly, just to drive that point home extra hard. He wore it in the previous episode and he wears it for the remainder of the season.

Jonathan's outfit-repeating is a detail I haven't really discussed much yet, but I keep meaning to. Because while outfit repeating sometimes serves as a callback or, as it does here, to emphasize a point, for Jonathan in particular (who outfit repeats the most of anyone), it is a reminder that he doesn't own the kind of expansive wardrobe characters like Nancy and Steve do because he doesn't come from money. So not only do his outfits give insight into his feelings and his relationships, but they show us his circumstances.

One last thing about The Jacket:

It's red inside! Jonathan is a very closed-off person and all of his...flair...if you will, is on the inside. Back to Halloween.

We've arrived at the reason I watched Risky Business. I googled Nancy and Steve's costumes (because I didn't know what they were), which led me to someone talking about them being the characters from Risky Business and questioning why, of all the (supposedly better) outfits in the movie, they chose these ones. So obviously I had to watch it.

It became pretty immediately apparent to me, before I even got to the scenes with the outfits they chose, why Steve couldn't wear just any Joel outfit. It's because he'd have looked exactly like himself.

So I waited the whole movie only to see them not even wearing the outfits from the party in the same scene? The Joel outfit Steve wears is from a scene near the end, at a big house party (fitting). The Lana outfit Nancy wears is from the final scene of the movie.

Honestly, it doesn't even matter what happens in that scene. That tells me everything I need to know. It's literally the End. Had Nancy worn the outfit that went with Steve's, she'd have been in navy and the big Spill Incident would have had no little to no impact. So they NEEDED to put her in white for ultimate damage. But in addition to that, this outfit is the most like something Nancy would wear of all the outfits in the movie. Which makes this scene pack a double-punch, because Nancy isn't just dressing up like a character she has nothing in common with, she's actually dressing to a degree like herself and yet it's still a costume.

The stain on the costume is irreparable. She is unable to fix the facade after this incident. And going back to them wearing outfits from different scenes, Nancy's reached the end but Steve hasn't yet. Because he's still a few scenes behind.

EPISODE 3

I touched on these looks when I talked about the alley scene in season 1. Then, Nancy was wearing pastel pink while Steve was in baby blue and it was very boy/girl coded. Now, they're both in grey.

I mentioned in the other post was that Steve and Nancy are matching perfectly for the first time here. Not just color scheme or style. They are both in light solid grey with no color, no patterns. And they are finally having an honest dialogue. They are finally on the same page. The truth is finally out.

Nancy actually doesn't match Jonathan at all, and that's unusual too. This grey outfit of hers feels somewhat like a blank slate because she's always dressed in color. She's feeling down, she's fighting with her boyfriend, she's still sad about Barb. She kind of hit rock bottom at that party and this is a new beginning, but it isn't necessarily a happy one. (If it were an uplifting blank slate/fresh start moment, this would probably be represented by white rather than this gloomy grey)

Jonathan is wearing That Jacket again. And I love this sweater!! Not that it matters. But Jonathan doesn't wear a lot of variety, so it's neat to see him here in a multicolored (even if two of those colors are black and grey) striped sweater while Nancy is in this bland, solid, colorless outfit. It's unusual. The addition of more prints and colors into Jonathan's wardrobe tells us he's starting to come out of his shell, even if only to Nancy. This sweater, the yellow one from the episode prior, he wore stripes in episode 1, he has a light-colored flannel on in the next episode. It's a little more variety than we saw in season 1.

EPISODE 4

Nancy has reverted to pink and blue again. *sigh* But once she leaves the house, she adds a brown jacket.

Jonathan's flannel is blue and white with some red, matching her sweater. His t-shirt matches Nancy's jacket, his jacket matches her pants, and his pants match her sweater...it's a whole moment. A very clear sign that they are being drawn towards one another. In this scene, they are baiting HNL, which makes the presence of the Colors of Conformity actually work in their favor for once. They are pretending, but this time it's a conscious choice for the sake of getting justice for Barb. It's not the unconscious desire to be normal.

EPISODES 5-9

Nancy packs a light pink nightgown for the trip while Jonathan sleeps in the t-shirt he wore all day. That completely tracks with what we know of each character. This reminds me a bit of the scene in season 1 when Jonathan slept over at Nancy's house and she was wearing light blue pjs and he was wearing just his clothes. Then, he stood out dramatically against the backdrop of Nancy's pink and blue room. Now, he blends in while she sticks out.

This shows us that motels are not a place Nancy Wheeler is accustomed to. During this scene, they also openly address their relationship for the first time in the series. Nancy tells Jonathan she waited and when he says "yeah, for like only a month," she gets pissy and goes to sleep. Nancy's nightgown shows her discomfort within the room, but also with the situation. Whereas Jonathan has no issues being honest about it. Despite the fact that Nancy brought the topic up, she doesn't like hearing the truth: that she is responsible for "what happened to us."

We've reached the Final Outfits. The ones that last a four episode stretch. With the Colors of Conformity shed, Jancy pops in to see Murray and Take Care of Business, going against what they were told to just accept. In this case, they were told to accept the claims of Barb's disappearance and let it go and they decided to expose the lab instead. But on a broader scale, going against what is expected is like THE theme of themes in this show. So while season 1 involved both Nancy and Jonathan gaining agency and independence (her from expectations, him from obligations), this is the first major instance of them not just taking matters into their own hands, but acting blatantly against what was demanded of them.

The lack of vibrance in the wardrobe gives these scenes a more serious tone. This feels appropriate as a conscious choice for the characters to make (when going to get justice for the death of a friend, colorful clothes probably don't feel like the thing to pop on) and fitting outside of choice in order to match the tone of later scenes. i.e. Jonathan doesn't know Will is possessed yet, but when he gets back, he'll still be wearing this during the shed scene.

These pj pants...my dudes... He wore them at the motel, too, but only a glimpse of them is visible from one angle beneath the blankets. I think, like the Jacket (yes, it must always be capitalized) with the red lining, pajamas being something worn in the privacy of one's home, the bright yellow and the funky print tell us how much more comfortable Jonathan is at home. He would never wear a print like that out and about in Hawkins. And this tracks with his character arc as a whole, which is breaking out of his shell OUTSIDE of his family, letting other people in. I mentioned the season 1 bedroom scene before. Contrast that with this again. He was in his regular clothes then. He's in pjs now.

Logistically, the reasoning is obvious. That was impromptu. This time he packed. But they could have given him something like a muted plaid pant or a basic sweatpant. Instead, the wardrobe department gave him these. And if that doesn't show him coming out of his shell...I don't have an end to that sentence. It does. If I want to be extra obnoxious about the pants, there's the fact that they were barely visible at the motel and he was honest with Nancy about the state of their relationship but didn't push her when she shut it down and now the pants are totally visible and he makes a move. So as his feelings are drawn more into the open...so are his ugly pants.

Something I want to mention about Steve's wardrobe choices, now that we're far enough to have established a trend, is the contrast between what he wears to school and outside of it. So far, we've mostly seen him at school. He wears a lot of polos and button-ups. His season 1 school outfits were generally lighter in color (lots of pale blue) and very preppy while his outside-of-school outfits were darker and sportier.

I didn't talk about this in my season 1 analysis and I totally should have but I wasn't focused on Steve too much at the time, so I'm going to backtrack for a second. In season 1 episode 2, he wears the teal long-sleeve shirt/sweatshirt (which I included 2 screenshots of above). This is the only time in the whole show that he wears something this casual to school and it is IMMENSLEY telling that he says to Nancy that same day that his parents have left town. Not that they're GOING out of town. They've left. We know very little about his parents, but the fact that on the one day they're out of town, he shows up to school wearing something drastically different from what he usually wears says a lot about the performance he is putting on for them.

Through Steve's wardrobe, we are being very subtly told that he is trapped by the same familial pressures and expectations as Nancy despite the fact that we never see his home life. And unlike Nancy, his separate styles for in school and outside school show that this weighs on him consciously. In this season, we see bits of the casual and the sporty begin to be incorporated into his school looks as he grows more comfortable with himself, but we can clearly see in this photo above that his chosen style is not a blend, but just the sporty/casual half.

As a reminder, he wore this to woo back Nancy. This isn't just something he tossed on because it's the weekend and he had no plans. It's something he felt comfortable in. So the combination of the sporty jacket and the preppy shirt in episode 1 or the preppy shirt and the sporty vest in episode 2 are showing us both growth and an internal struggle. The most we hear from him about this is in the car with Nancy talking about his essay when he says "What's the point? ...I'm just going to end up working for my dad anyway." He sounds extremely disappointed and put out by it, but immediately follows up by saying, "Is that such a bad thing?" This boy is CONFLICTED.

EPISODE 9

Last outfits. 3 second read: these two aren't done with each other and are a better match than they realize (please don't stone me). Nancy and Steve are matching despite the fact that they don't even interact and it's in a color neither of them usually wears.

This doesn't necessarily mean romance. It could foreshadow their breakup actually bringing them closer (as friends) or it could foreshadow them getting back together (seriously don't attack me). Either way, Nancy and Steve fit together more now that they're broken up than they did when they were together, largely as a consequence of Steve's journey this season helping him figure out who he is and what he wants (whereas Nancy's arc took her further from Steve), a theme that will return in season 4. I also want to point out that Steve looks at Nancy, but Nancy does not look at him. He sees that they're matching and she does not. She doesn't see that he's changed.

Jonathan, on the other hand, is dressed in black and grey.

Which I'm sure we will all be shocked to find are the other two colors in Nancy's dress. Basically, if I'd done this analysis after season 2 came out instead of right now, I would have known this love triangle wasn't over. Nancy's dress is a HUGE indicator of this. I'm actually so annoyed I didn't catch this the first time around. And back to the glances, they look at each other. They both acknowledge that they fit.

Other Season 2 wardrobe analyses: Mike & Will El & Hopper Lucas, Max, & Dustin

[writerleo86]

Terravenger Season 6 - The Fallen Magus Arc (End of Arc) - Episode 488 (Do Not Copy) - 11.21.2023

    Standing on a sandy ground by the large ocean were the villainous Leo and his followers -- Darrin Sebastian and Kiona Dupree.

    Kiona walked two steps toward her master and revealed "I was able to recover his body. I can perform a proper funeral for Rocky."

    Darrin implied "He might have been insufferable most of the time. But Rocky Samuel knew his craft. We should do a proper burial for him."

    "Very well," Leo told them. "Mr. Samuel has done quite a fine service for us throughout the years. Burying him in a proper manner would be a kind gesture."

    The two younger warriors bowed their heads and hurried off as their master turned away. Leo soon spotted someone sitting on a large rock before his left side.

    And Leo calmly asked "And who might you be?"

    This was a young woman with fair skin, a slender body, and a pair of brown eyes. She had black hair that nearly reached her shoulders. And a long red lock came down from within the right side of her hair. She had worn a light-orange shirt with long sleeves and her waist showing. Around her belly button was a tattoo of a small red heart surrounded by black barbed wire. She also had on a pair of tight pants that were made of brown leather. She had on short brown boots that had low heels. A small badge was placed on the front left side of her shirt which was made up of a black square that had a pale-violet skull with three black spots at the center. And she had dark-purple polish on her fingernails. She also wore thin black eyeliner and ruby-red lipstick.

    The high-spirited woman pounced off her seat and faced the wicked seer with a huge smile on her face.

    "Why can I not read your mind?" questioned Leo.

    The woman folded her hands behind her as she leaned her head to her left side.

    Leo also asked "And how am I not able to determine the strength of your ki?"

    The woman finally told him "I took a page out of your book. I can block any telepaths from entering my mind, including the likes of you."

    Leo stared at her brown eyes until he implied "It is an object of science that lets you block my telepathy. But what I wonder?"

    The cheeky woman leaned forward and replied "I would really like to be the one to test your power. Battle me!"

    The smiling Leo lowered his head and informed her "You must truly be jesting. You wish for me to battle using my greatest spells. You are quite the daft one."

    Then he ordered "Find another to play your childish game."

    "But would you like to see how much you excelled?" asked the woman.

    Leo stared at her in a questioning manner as the cheerful stranger told him "You won't know how much you've grown in the strength department unless you have an opponent to use your abilities on. I simply want you to get ahead."

    Leo soon gave a soft laugh and responded "You truly must wish to be harmed. You are not a smart person."

    The woman spread her arms apart and said "You won't know until you try it out. Come on! Let's see your powers already."

    And Leo stood ready to fight as he answered "Surely you are obtuse. Very well. I accept your offer. I shall make you my next victim."

Terravenger -- Season 6

Episode 488:  The Fallen Magus Arc -- A Mysterious Scarlet Fighter

    First, the mysterious woman pushed her right fist forward which blew a large ball of purple energy that was surrounded by small pink sparks.

    "Fire Release!" She called. "Violet Hanabi!"

    The wicked Leo gave a short chuckle as something appeared before him. It was a small puff of light-pink smoke that had a pair of lovely red eyes, a pair of hands with three fingers, and a serene smile on its face.

    The small spirit caught the projectile using only their hands. The spirit soon released the projectile. And the fiery projectile quickly formed into another small spirit made of light-pink smoke.

    The woman gave a cute chuckle and implied "Those spirits must be made to defend you from a projectile of any nature."

    Leo placed his right hand on his waist and informed his opponent "I just suggest you think of another strategy unless you would like to see many more of these beautiful ghosts among us."

    Both of the small spirits gave a soft and beautiful chime as Leo gave a sinister grin.

    The cheerful woman gave a chuckle and commented "I admit, they are so cute."

    Then she told the evil mage "This battle is going to be interesting. I want more!"

    After that, the mysterious woman pointed her right finger above.

    She blew out a large stream of yellow smoke from her mouth after yelling "Boil Release! Chaotic Mist of Vulcan!"

    The mist quickly spread around her opponent as well as his two summoned spirits. The woman followed it up by shooting another large ball of purple energy that was surrounded by small pink sparks. Once the projectile flew into the mist, a large explosion was formed.

    The explosion continued to brighten the entire area until it finally turned into a large cloud of smoke.

    The woman leaned forward and watched as she called "I know you're out there!"

    After the smoke cleared, the unknown woman spotted the enemy Leo standing at the other side. But the wicked mage had his left hand on his waist as he remained inside a large circular field of pink light.

    The calm Leo replied "I am grateful both of my spirits had given their lives in order to defend me. They formed together and created a gorgeous shield around me for a short time."

    The pink barrier faded as the relaxed Leo spread his arms out.

    "You amuse me, Little Girl," He told the opponent. "Let us continue with the trial. I am having quite a magnificent time here."

    The woman continued smiling as she thought to herself "His two defenders must have flown the coop. But I should be careful anyway. He's such a tricky one."

    Next, a circle of green light gathered around Leo on the ground.

    He softly called out "Lectus!"

    The woman blew a large ball of purple energy with small pink sparks once again at her opponent. Once the projectile hit his chest, Leo gave a short chuckle.

    "What did you cast?" asked the woman. "Invincibility?"

    "Not quite," answered Leo. "I formed a barrier around me that not only grants armor. But this light also drains any projectile that is shot by my opponent. This is granted to me for a short time however."

    The woman implied "If I were to shoot another of my fireballs at you, then you would just absorb its power."

    After that, Leo created a regular-sized skull from purple light to his opened right hand.

    "My power appears to be absolute!" He called. "I am stronger than ever!"

    He threw his projectile as he called out "Cranium Clamor!"

    The woman jumped into the air and performed a somersault flip in order to dodge the dark projectile. Once she landed on her left knee, the woman ascended to the air as a bright-orange light shined from her body. Then she performed a falling cartwheel and dived toward her opponent with a Left Side Kick.

    Leo blocked her strike using both hands as the circle below him faded. He soon pushed her away. And the stranger landed away from Leo after performing a back-flip.

��   Then the woman leaped forward as her orange light shined around her body once again. She floated toward her opponent and blew a large ball of purple energy from her palms which was followed by small pink sparks.

    Leo quickly formed a circle of red light below him as he chanted "Sanguis Ruber!"

    The projectile shot him. Then the nimble Leo performed a quick back-roll and landed on his right knee.

    The woman suddenly noticed the red circle fading from the ground.

    "You formed another of those barrier spells?" She asked.

    The smiling Leo looked forward at her and informed his opponent "The spell that I cast this time had me take small damage instead of the full blunt of your attack."

    Leo placed both his hands on the ground as he called out "Angelus Annis Lapsus!"

    A large cabinet of green light raced through the ground toward his opponent. And the blast from the light launched the helpless woman into the air.

    After that, the wicked Leo pointed his left finger at the sky.

    "Light Release!" He chanted. "Horologium Strike!"

    A large golden light fell to her from the sky. And the stricken woman was forced into the sand of the ground.

    Leo with a possessed grin on his face walked toward his fallen opponent.

    He soon placed his left hand on his waist and asked "Is the trial finished? Or would you wish to continue the next stage?"

    The woman lifted the upper part of her body and gave a happy laugh.

    "Have you the strength to continue?" questioned Leo.

    The smiling woman closed her eyes and replied "No, you win. I submit."

    The puzzled Leo watched as the woman stood up.

    Then the stranger brushed the dirt from her body using both hands.

    "Was this in fact a test?" asked Leo.

    The woman shook her head and told him "Yes it was. And you passed. Well done."

    A struggling Leo faced his left side and commented "You are an odd one. You have taken a high amount of pain. But yet you show yourself with grace."

    The woman brushed the sand from her shoulder with her left hand and said "This wasn't a fight to the death after all. I just wanted to know if you had enough power."

    "And?" questioned Leo.

    The stranger shook her head and answered "You do. You seem to be very skilled with it too."

    Leo faced her once again and replied "You share great power. But I cannot comprehend if you are indeed a friend or a foe."

    The woman gave another cute laugh and told the mage "Oh, me? I'm just someone who looks for strong warriors to fight. That's all."

    And the smiling Leo faced the left side once again.

    He told the stranger "I haven't the idea of who you truly are or what your real goal would be. But I do know this -- You are a troublesome little girl who should be aware of who she challenges."

    "Likewise," said the woman.

    The woman finally walked off as Leo watched with questioned eyes.

    He thought to himself "Who... Or what in fact is she? This Juggler? Is she a threat? Or is she something else entirely?"

[magnesium-zinc]

dont read this shit

I can't believe I actually dared to put this here :/

Anyways

Mafia AU

Warning: Age gap, but this list will become longer if I get to finish this

Pairing: PisSco, GL

Underage Pisces

OK? Go.

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

Pisces skipped home after school, humming to herself. It wasn’t often seen having some highschooler behaving like a child of a mere age of six, and numerous gazes followed her backside for a few moments before returning hastily to their phone calls, or files.

Her blue pigtails were flying in the air, and her large hair clips featuring two silver fishes glinted in the evening sun. Though her bag slung on her shoulder bulged, she still remained at a light and cheerful pace as she sped down the road.

Now, if you asked any passers by what they thought was in the girl’s bag, they would certainly say books, homeworks, and possibly a coat, or a sweater.

Pisces smiled to herself.

Of course, there will be books.

But not only that.

What they didn’t know, was that in the bag, rolled up inside her deep blue hoodie, was a collapsible baton and a switchblade.

Turning into the nearest mall, she walked straight into the washroom to change. A sky-blue pleated skirt that went to her knees, and a black hoodie with blue neon strips.

Grinning to herself in a maddish way, Pisces took out the baton and the switchblade out of her jacket and looked at them fondly for a while before slipping them into the baggy sleeves of her top.

Nobody on the street could associate the black hooded figure with the skipping school girl that passed by a minute ago.

On the other side of the street, Scorpio leaned against the shiny, polished red telephone box, staring at the picture that’s hidden in her newspaper. The photo was obviously taken without permission, because the girl’s face was slightly blurry. All of the features Scorpio could figure out were those thin, sky-blue, curly pigtails that reached her chest. Though Virgo, her most trusted partner, said she wouldn’t have to worry about the clothing. After one month’s research, they’d figured out that she always wore the same clothes. Flashy, thought Scorpio. Not exactly wise.

She pushed her lips together briefly, mournfully thinking that she shouldn’t have put on lipstick. The mask she was wearing probably smeared it all over her face.

“Did you find her yet?” Asked an irritated voice from her wireless earphones. It was a woman’s voice, crisp and stern. “Don’t tell me that our month’s work has gone down the drain.”

Scorpio’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I told you, Virgo, I’m still waiting,” she said, looking around continuously. “I’ve kept my eyes peele-”

“What?” Demanded Virgo.

Scorpio didn’t answer but she hung up the call. Virgo would be snapping at her after returning to the headquarters, but she didn’t have time to worry about that.

For that split second, she saw a girl’s figure, with a distinguishable hoodie, emerge from a mall.

She tore off her mask and checked for any smeared makeup before hurrying, silently to follow her target.

Good, thought Pisces. The gang had finally sent people after her. Well, quite reasonable, considering that she had put out at least ten of their members single-handedly. But it was only when their last trade meeting went sour, and she knew perfectly well who did that.

Pisces tried to look at who was pursuing her, but she couldn’t. He seemed just out of sight of her eyes. She silently cursed him. Just one single glance would do.

She pretended to check twice before entering an alley. It was a risky gamble. She was leading him straight to their headquarters, and if he managed to escape…

He won’t even stand a chance, thought Pisces.

She took out a mobile control out of her pocket. She pressed a button shaped like a cute white kitten, and a hidden gate slid out of nowhere, rattling and screeching behind them as it positioned itself. The gate was about three metres tall, and as wide as the alley with barbed wire wreathed on spikes.

Pisces turned suddenly, narrowly missing a fist that was thrown at her. She knew it. Something gift Pisces has had since she was a kid; she was sensitive to living creatures. She could sense their presence, like an aura. Just now, she’d felt a warm presence looming towards her back. That was probably why she was the youngest mafia in their gang. The only minor.

A swift figure passed her. It was a she. She had appeared to jump at Pisces, but missed. She stopped right in front of the dead end of the alley.

Pisces felt a single bead of sweat trace its way down her back neck. A door was concealed behind the red brick wall, leading straight to their headquarters. If she ever found out the door, she’d be dead on her feet.

The figure looked up at her. Pisces’s heart gave a mighty thump when she saw her eyes.

Those were thin, long shaped eyes like a panther’s, a shade of dark, startling magenta. Though she was wearing a mask, Pisces knew it was a beautiful girl behind the folds. Her purple hair flowed to the middle of her back, loosely braided towards the end, the tip curled like a scorpion’s tail.

Pisces laughed and withdrew her baton from her sleeve.

The show was on.

She extended the baton to its full length, and lunged forward.

[teanicolae]

i turn 24 today!  23 has been a dream shaped by grace. grace took me to places i thought i'd never see, such as the transcendental Himalayas or America, while it internally catapulted me to priorly unimagined heights of euphoria & expansion. when i look back to my young life, i glimpse a golden thread expertly weaving each fragment and pulling me to where i am now; a glimmer nestled within me, of me and yet not of me, calling to me, caring for me, polishing me, shaping me - preparing me, guiding me to the path. a glimmer, a spark; the love of the Guru. the love of Mahādevī. the love of Hari. and so, today i am moved to share verses from a sweet song. time, mystical time gave me the blues and then purple pink skies were there clues i didn't see? isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying You to me? a string that pulled me... something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons one single thread of gold tied me to You. today & every day i pray to flow like the waters of the magnificent Gaṅgā Devī holding me in this photo.  

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 22

-Geralt was struggling. It was not something he liked to admit, but being so close to Adva and not being able to touch or talk to her was the most intense pain he had ever felt. He had taken her at her word and left his mate alone, giving her a wide berth, all the while staring longingly as she went about her business. Thankfully, she spent most of her time with Ciri, training or in the library. Geralt could barely contain it when Vesemir spent more than 5 minutes in her company, let alone Jaskier. The way the bard slide in next to her as she worked at the table or slung his arm around her shoulder had cost several clay mugs and three chair arms. The bard was doing it on purpose he was sure of that, even now Jaskier was strumming out some filthy ballad.

‘Here she saw little Smitty Jones, walking in the crowd "Come home with me, little Smitty Jones, come home with me tonight. Come home with me, little Smitty Jones, and sleep with me till light"’ the brunette cooed in an off-pitch warble.

The gentle giggle tinkled out into the air, and her eyes light up in a bright glare as she laughed. A surge of unbridled jealousy roared within him. She hadn’t some much as look at him like that since that night. That fatefully night. Throwing a glare across at the singing minstrel, Geralt slammed closed the book sending Triss and Vesemir into a series of splutters as a cloud of dust billowed into the air as well as sending the various scroll clattering across the table and scattered onto the floor before and storming out the room.

The Witcher flew out of the room into the main hallway. Unfortunately, the first thing he saw was a grand antique cabinet, the poor thing was wretched from the wall and sent screeching across the polished floor, a thick gash cracked down the main body of the wood. Grunting, Geralt pulled his hand down his face, a roar vibrated from his chest, echoing across the hall as his hand caught sight of the blue sweat that glistened in the weak sunlight that beams in through the stain glass window. The blue substance that Triss had been painting across his body no coated the majority of his body. It was another constant reminder that Adva had rejected him. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of blue. Despite only wearing the thinnest material he continued to drip with sweat, the sticky ooze had lost most of its potency, barely giving him an hour of relief. Soon he would have to leave, the last of his control was ebbing away. It took all his strength not to sweep in, throw Adva on the table and rip her dress off before burying himself in her thighs and sticking his teeth into her tender flesh. The hours he had spent imaging the bonding, it would happen in several stages, and all of them lead to Adva becoming a panting puddle underneath him, begging to be his. There was only one thing he wanted more than that, and that was her marking him, her longing for him to be hers. But no, at the current situation that would not be happening, and he would need to leave soon before he became feral and gods know what he would do if that happened.

‘My, My, such an angry Witcher! It seems your little mermaid has gone off you.’ Yennefer purred as she revealed herself from behind a stone pillar.

Turn round golden eyes trained on to the mage, a silent sigh running down his body. The dress was, compared to the other he had had to endure, was relatively tame. A velvet halter strap encircled her delicate neck and a tight correct displayed firm breast and a toned waist before the black velvet fell over her hip in a billowing skirt. At least she was wearing clothes this time.  For the last ten days, he had seen his former lover naked eight times, the last time sprawled in his new bedroom down by the lake. Since her last attempt to seduce him in the armoury, Geralt took sanctuary in the old lake hunt to rid himself of the mages unwanted advances – and not to tempt himself with any midnight strolls past Adva room.

‘Yennefer don’t.’ Ciri bite in rolling her eyes at the older woman.

‘He needs to know Ciri. She has barely said anything to him since we have arrived. I was just trying to get a rise you when I said she preferred Jaksier but seems I was right all along she does like that singing turd.’ The purple eyes mage pushed, resting her hand on his chest, nails scratching likely against his sensitive skin.

‘Fuck off Yennefer.’ Geralt sneered, flinching away towards the courtyard.

‘You have been ignoring me. I don’t get ignored Geralt; you know that.’ Yennefer snapped, trailing after him, an ugly sneer forming on her face as the Witcher dodge all of her grasps. ‘Geralt…please, we used to be good together.’

She knew she sound despite, but she was too far gone to care. It had been a long time since she felt rejected; her transformation made almost certain of it. She was after all sculpted by the best artist, so why was she being cast aside by Adva. She was no great beauty, passing pretty at the very most yet Geralt was in love with her, and no matter how she demined herself, he didn’t so much as falter. Hitching up her skirts, she trailed after him, grasping at his arm.

‘Geralt…Geralt please.’ Yennefer winced at her needy voice as forced herself in front of him.

Geralt growled down at the bronzed woman in from; the annoying mage had pushed herself in front of his path. Glaring at her, he felt a pang of guilt as she stared up at him desperately with big pleading eyes. He had understood her pain, but every time he felt the first blossoming of sympathy, he remembered Adva, bloodied and battered after being pushed through the floor and the barbed comments forced towards his timid mate.

‘We never were, you never cared enough; I just didn’t realise. Enough Yennefer. Enough. THIS stops now. GO!’ Geralt snarled lowly, before storming off down the path.

‘Great. It's your fault, you know.’ Ciri prodded ‘If you hadn’t manipulated and used him for your own selfish things, he wouldn’t have left and properly would never have stumbled across Adva in that backwater town.’ Ciri snapped.

‘Are you seriously blaming this on me.’ Yennefer yapped as she blinked away, angry tears.

‘Yes. You should be happy for them. Instead, you're making both their lives miserable.’

Ciri loved Yennefer; she would always be her mother, raising her from a scarred little princess into the strong Witcher she was now, soothed her through her trials, fought her corner when Geralt was being his gruff self and refusing to treat her like the adult she was becoming. However, now she felt like the parent of a petulant child, throwing a tantrum because someone had picked up a toy they were no longer bothered with.

‘Don’t I deserve happiness. I knew she would take everything from me, and I was right. First, she takes Geralt, then Triss and now you. The little bitch is up to something I can see it.’ Yennefer yelled.

‘She didn’t take us away. You pushed us. Adva would never take Geralt away; he would always be there for you, and so would she. That’s your problem; you can never see something good in someone. Someone Geralt who can worship without getting cast away. Adva is Geralt soulmate, someone who will love him in the way he needs, selflessly and unconditionally. Can you say you have ever done the same? Adva is a good person; you just have to look into her eyes and see that?’ Ciri pushed

Yennefer let out an unholy scratch as she conjured a bright yellow ball of fire and launched it into the air. Ciri watched silently as Yennefer blasted out a wave of energy knocking down two poor trees that stood innocent at the side before marching off into the forest.

‘Yen…’ Ciri started on after her, but something stopped her. Inhaling deeply, she caught the scent again; it was faint, so faint that it was almost hidden under all the others, almost. It was suspicious, not that the scent was faint or even that it mingled with the other to the point that is was almost undetectable but it what it smelt like. Like the sea, well like seaweed, that healthy smell of salty vegetation mixed with clean cotton. In passing, she might have brushed it off as Adva fragrance, but this was distinctly different; she had spent enough time with her mentors’ mate to know every note of her aroma. Narrowing her eyes, she gave one lingering look towards the path the raging mage had made through the wood before shaking her head and making her way off after the scent.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Yennefer growled as she sent a ball of fire across the tops of the trees. The smell of burning foliage pulled at her nose as she eyed the smouldering treetops, now all scorched in a perfect line, blacked and charred. A grin of satisfaction stretched other her face as she squared her shoulders and launched the biggest ball of fire she could at the largest tree closet to her which coincidentally looked the most like Adva head.

‘Such a pretty for a beautiful creature like yourself to be cast aside for such an unworthy thing as the Adva girl.’ A lone voice purred behind her.

Whirling around Yennefer was met by a man with a vivid green eye of a suave nobleman. Violet eyes rolled over him, with deep mistrust. No one, NO ONE came up to the mountain, the forest was too thick, impenetrable, filled with all sort of monsters and danger. Merchants and bandits stumbled up from time to time but never this far and never wearing something that fine. The man was dressed in the finery of a king, a rich quilted jacket in a mix of leather and silk. It sat tight against his chest, showing a toned and crafted body from hours of torturous training. He was tall and lean, learning cockily against the tree staring intensely at her.

‘And why would you care?’ Yennefer reeled back, hand posed and ready as she observed the man.

He let her take him in, unmoving from his positions on the tree as he spoke softly ‘I am what you might call a concerned member of society. I dislike jumped up usurpers.’ The man smiled, pushing himself off the tree and slowly, ever so slowly making his way to stand in front of her ‘I am here to propose a plan..’

‘And what makes you think I will help you with your plan.’ Yennefer snorted, edging herself to the corner of the clearing.

Yennefer did not like it. Not at all, the man was too clean-cut, to pristine. And while Geralt was not in her favourite list right now, she still did not want Kaer Morhen besieged by some arseholes, that would put Ciri in danger since she would rather die than leave. Yet, he stood in front of her arm out. Palm facing her, if he was some assassin or enemy he was a very poor one, he had let her have the advantage the second he made a move Yennefer could send out a deadly blast or teleport him to some unknown fair corner of the world, and that made him interesting and worthy of her attention.

‘My plan permanently gets Adva out of the picture.’

‘And how do you think you would do that? She is protected by two highly skilled Witchers, the Lady of Space and Time, a powerful mage and singing idiot.’

‘With your help, of course. What do you think?’ The man smiled widely, and he inched towards her.

Being a court mage for many years had taught Yennefer to remain impassive, the slight glimmer of emotion would reveal you are true indention and immediately set off a chain reaction of those who opposed your idea or intention. To say there wasn’t a burning desire to rid herself of that kitchen maid was putting it lightly however even before she became a mage she had learnt that if a man offered you something that you truly desired that it was always too good to be true. She did not like him at all; he gave out a claggy feeling, the sort of person who clung to you link a leech and didn’t let go till she had drained you of what he needed.

‘I think… I would go warn them so we can all kick you well-polished arse together’ Yennefer hissed as a purple light bubbled up from her tanned palms and gave off a humming glow.

‘Don’t disappoint me. I have spent so long appreciating you. We are much alike; we know what we like, and when we want it and we have both been cast aside by that wretch. I will kill Adva one way or another, but this way…this way is easier, cleaner and this way you get what you want.’ The man whispered, softly taking her hand and kissing it.

Lowering her attack, she watched as he once again retreated back before answering ‘And what is it that you want?’

‘I have the discretion to breathe life into that barren void between your legs and all I require in return is your help in getting rid of a pest, a blight on the face of the earth. The death of a creature, a deformed halfling who should never have been granted life. In exchange, you will be given the Witcher and a baby. All you have to is isolated and distract the little thing.’ The man said as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

‘If you can do what you say…., that is powerful magic. Why do you need my help? It’s not like she some skill warrior Mage.’ Yennefer quarried.

‘You underestimate her, you all do. You have no idea truly what she could be capable of, and if we continue to let her breath, she could find out. ‘The man purred, reaching out to touch her face in a soft caress. ‘I will make it look like an attack, and that you fiercely tried to save her, it will be clean a quick, just lure her to the edge of the forest on the northside.’

‘And how do you know that you’ll honour the agreement?’

Pushing himself back, the man pulled a small silver blade from his belt and drew it across his palm. The blood trickled down the pale silver skin, the droplet of blood where brighter than any ruby in almost look like poppy juice and it run down his hand and dripped drop by drop onto the forest floor but it had that smell of blood, of bitter copper mixed with the tangy scent of freshly forged iron.

‘I solemnly swear, that if you help me get rid of Adva, I will ensure your womb is restored to you, and the girls claim on Geralt will be void. I give this oath in honour, and if I divert from our deal, I shall be struck down.’

The man held out his bloodstain hand to hear the hum of the blood know gave out a near ear-deafening vibration as the blood thicken and turned sticky on his palm. Blood oaths where primitive magic but effective, if the oath promiser diverted from the agreement in any shape or form the magic would strike him down without mercy or thought. That is why people had stopped using it; they were too deadly, the magic took the promise very literally with often deadly consequences. Plus it left a hideous reminder to both parties in the shape of a bloodstained on the hand, a stain so deep it could never be removed, only when the oath was fulfilled was the stain washed away. A troubling thought cross Yennefer’s mind, several in fact but the most concerning thing was the deal, he made no mention of her making the same deal, to pledge herself to his cause. Instead, it was entirely on him; he asked no reassurance he was either very stupid, which she didn’t believe if he had slipped into Kaer Morhen without either of the Witchers noticing meaning he was at the very least he was intelligent enough to remain undetected. Which meant he was desperate, either running out of time or, willing to trust a stranger, to aid him in his quest for end Adva, believing her hatred for Adva would be enough to ensure loyalty.

Narrowing her eyes, she reached out her hand grimacing as she gelt the stick liquid seep into her hand. ‘How do you propose to lure her away?’

‘With this’ the man smirked and pulled out an emerald scroll.

I am so sorry! I had this chapter all planned out then my summer completely went up in flames, my lovely summer of reading and writing is now cancelled. Updates might be patchy for now as my school is trying to get ready for reopening in September and honestly no one knows what is happening and everyone is panicking. I am also trying to find somewhere to live as if and when we go back, I can’t risk taking the virus back to my family who is very vulnerable with not much luck. So as you can imagine, everything is a bit unstable, but please be sure that I am always thinking about my next chapter and nothing make me happier that people want to read my ramblings.

Thank you to everyone who said congratulation. It was so lovely.

The next chapter is planned just need to find time to write it. Stay safe!

@threepupsinapuddle @broco8 @introvertedmouse @luxyash @vikingsbifrost @pastelblogsposts @wastingmypotential @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @fandom-lover-4 @sageandberries-png  @just-a-sad-donut @alicia-d-o @dreamerwithapen1 @evangeline73aster

[fanficsfromyesteryear]

PRETTY IN PINK

A STRANGER THINGS ONE SHOT

— PAIRING: Nancy Wheeler x Reader (Platonic) — WORD COUNT: 934 — WARNINGS: Mentions of death — REQUESTED BY: n/a — A/N: I’ve just recently developed an appreciation for Nancy. I feel like she’s a really good friend, despite what happened to Barb in season 1, and we haven’t really had a chance to see that side of her.

You and Nancy Wheeler were never close growing up, but after your mom died, it was her that saw the pain you were in. She knew what it was like to lose someone. She knew what it was like to put on a carefree façade to mask the fact that you were falling apart at the seams. She, of all people, understood.

After the funeral, you stood off to the side as your father interacted with close friends and family who came to offer him their condolences. You stared at the ground, your feet glued to the spot, the sight of your mother’s lifeless body in the casket still engraved in your mind. Your body was numb. None of this felt real. You kept telling yourself that it was just a nightmare, that you would wake up and everything would be fine, but deep down, you knew you were lying to yourself.

“Hey,” came a quiet voice from beside you, and a hand brushed against your arm. You turned your head slightly, tear-stained eyes settling on the concerned face of Nancy. “I’m really sorry about what happened.”

You managed a nod and a small, “Thank you.”

“If you ever need anything, I’m here.”

Those words were strangers to your ears coming from the mouth of Nancy Wheeler. You knew, to an extent, what she had gone through with Barbara—everyone did—but the thought of you and Nancy being friendly with one another was a wild concept. It wasn’t that the two of you weren’t nice people and incapable of getting along, you just ran in different social circles. She had a reputation of being a goody-two-shoes, but she was fairly popular nonetheless. You, on the other hand, weren’t much of a good-anything and considered yourself more of an outcast than anything else. The confusion in your tone was evident when you once again said, “Thank you.”

Similarly, the confusion in Karen’s face was hard to miss when you showed up on the doorstep of the Wheeler home asking for Nancy. When Nancy had told her you were coming over to spend the night, she’d thought it was a joke, yet here you were.

It hadn’t been an easy task convincing your dad to let you go. Ever since your mom died, he’d been extra protective of you. He rarely let you out of his sight save for when it was absolutely necessary. You knew that he was just lonely and afraid of losing you too, but you missed your freedom and the company of another female in the house, so, at long last, he gave in.

“Your friend’s here!” Karen called as she led the way inside. A moment later, footsteps were heard on the stairs and Nancy came into view.

Nancy greeted you with a wide grin. To be perfectly honest, she hadn’t known whether or not you would actually show up—it had only been a week since the funeral, and already she was inviting you to sleep over—but she was glad you did. You needed to get out of the house, to take your mind off of things, and what better way to do that than with what Nancy called, “a girl’s night”?

The inside of Nancy’s room was like something straight out of a doll house. “Wow,” you said, looking around. “It’s so pink.”

Nancy wrinkled her nose. “Let me guess,” she said, glancing down at your clothes. “Your room is solid black?”

“Grey,” you corrected, “but same difference.” You dropped your bag onto the floor. “So, what exactly is a girl’s night?” Your gaze settled on Nancy. Embarrassingly enough, this was your first sleepover. All of your friends were boys, and, well, your parents knew better than to open that can of worms.

Nancy walked over to her bed and plopped down on the edge, patting the place beside her where, a moment later, you were seated. She pulled a shoe box from the top drawer of her nightstand. On the top, written in sparkly, red nail polish were the words, ‘In Case of Emergency.’ With a smile, Nancy pulled back the lid to reveal a plethora of the most girly things you had ever seen—nail polish, mostly in various shades of pinks and purples; all kinds of makeup; a couple of rolled up magazines; fuzzy socks; and to top it all off, a VHS tape of Pretty in Pink.

You raised your eyebrows. Suddenly, you weren’t too sure about this. You spent your time skateboarding and smoked behind the gym between classes. The only nail polish you owned was as dark as typewriter ink.

“Oh, come on,” encouraged Nancy, sensing your hesitancy. “It’ll be fun.”

You had the feeling that your idea of fun was a lot different than Nancy’s, but later that night, after the two of you had changed into your pajamas and were both sporting fresh coats of paint on your nails as you danced around Nancy’s bedroom to Blondie, you realized that you were actually enjoying yourself. You just hated that it took your mother’s passing to realize that the two of you—different as you were—could have a good time. In that moment, you weren’t a couple of high school stereotypes. You were just a couple of girls who had endured horrible things and become close because of it.

Sometime after midnight, you both decided to turn in. Nancy laid under the covers on the brink of drifting off to sleep while you smoked out her bedroom window. “Next time,” you said, turning to her with a small, lopsided grin, “I’m picking the movie.”

[sp00kworm]

April Rain (Chapter 5)

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN LINK

Ch 1    Ch 2    Ch 3     Ch 4  

Pairing: All Might/Yagi Toshinori x Female Reader

---

The familiarity which Yagi approached the front desk gave you piece of mind. He gave his bright, sunshine smile as he approached and waved a large tanned hand as he stood over the desk, laughing as the owner spat out his tea and proceeded to choke. The girl behind the register cheered.

“ALL MIGHT ALL MIGHT ALL MIGHT!” She danced on the stool before jumping on top of the desk, grabbing for Yagi as he pumped his fist and laughed.

“Hina! Hina, please! Get down before your mother comes in here!” The man pushed his tea aside in favour of grappling his daughter from the counter, holding her under the arms as she continued to cheer wildly.

“Hina?! You better not be letting her on that counter again Reo! I just polished it this morning!”

“No, Akasuki! She’s just excited about our visitor is all!” Reo laughed awkwardly as he held his squirming daughter, scrubbing a hand through his dark hair as his wife opened the screen behind him with a scowl. Her eyes went wide at the sight before her.

“All…Might…” She stuttered before rushing to her feet, red in the face as she wrangled her daughter from her husband’s grip, “I apologise, Mister All Might. She simply adores you and oh gosh…” Hina squirmed again with a cheer.

“Mama! Let me see!” She tugged at her mother’s hair to twist around and get another look at All Might, her eyes bright and wide with glee, “All Might!” She cheered again as Yagi laughed and let her grip his fingers.

 “It’s been a while, Toshinori.” Reo observed with a laugh, “If you’d let me know I could have ordered in things for you in advance! I don’t know if we have many of what you usually buy left in stock.” Reo stood and wiped his hands on the bottom of his apron, tucking his net into the pocket as he pulled up the counter and stepped through before latching it closed behind him.

“Don’t trouble yourself, friend. I’ve brought…some company to help me choose something this time.” Yagi’s face went a little pink as he looked over to you by the door. You’d occupied yourself by looking at terrapin food, not really reading the packet in your hand, you’d just been pretending to look at it while listening in on their conversation. The sudden mention of you made you awkwardly put down the feed and turn to face the family with a smile.

Reo blinked, “You brought your girlfriend?” He asked with a sly smile. His fist met All Might’s shoulder, “I didn’t think you had it in you!” He cheered before laughing at his friend’s bright face.

Yagi brushed off Reo’s jeering before ushering him back behind the counter, reaching into his pocket to tug a photo free. He handed it to Reo’s child with a smile, “Here, Hina, was it? You can put this up in your room.” He offered the signed picture with a smile before moving to take your hand, “Don’t worry about us, Reo. Just…maybe don’t let anyone in?” Yagi asked politely.

“Sure thing, so long as you buy something.” Reo joked before locking the door behind the two of you.

 Yagi sighed when you made it into the shop, the warmth of the tanks making you sigh, blowing air up your face at the heat. It was humid and the tanks were extremely loud, the water bubbling loudly in the stacks upon stacks of rows of tanks, housing tropical fish waiting to be rehomed. The ones in tanks closest swam closer to the glass as you entered, large eyes following you as most shoaled and curved together. Yagi hummed, pulling at his sweater because of the heat as you looked around at the fish in the room. There was all sorts of breeds and different species.

“Which sort did you want for the tank again?” You asked hopelessly as you looked up the walls at the gallons of water and thousands of fish. You stepped over a puddle of water as you gazed at some great cichlids, their bodies a few inches across. They came in all colours and some variants had aggressive labels to allow for those with good natured tanks to avoid them.

Yagi chuckled, “Nothing like those. They are the sort you can only keep with their own species.” He took your hand in his own, the warmth radiating up your arm as the man pulled you past the various sizes of Cichlids, and towards the other species. Tetras in all shapes and colours shoaled as you glanced up at the wall, some thick, some fat some streamlined. Barbs sat in tanks on the next stretch of wall and Yagi smiled as you looked at the pink tinged, gold, Rosy Barbs with adoration. The barbs fluttered, pink gold scales glittering as they swam from end to end and back.

 “Did you see something you like?” The deep timbre of Yagi’s voice next to your ear made you jump, his breath hitting your skin as the giant hero extended back to his full height, stroking his chin as he glanced at the barbs, “Perhaps these?” He pointed at the pairs of electric blue striped Golden Rams. The stripe down the males’ bodies were striking, but they seemed to only enjoy the sluggish current of the small tank, living in pairs and gently bobbing around.

“They’re a little bit boring.” You lamented before looking back at the barbs. Green Tiger Barbs. Their upwards turned mouths plucked naughtily at the plants in their tank, “I still think the barbs are best.”

Yagi laughed, “They have spunk…But maybe the tetras would be best? They’re much easier to socialise depending on what we buy.” He hummed as he turned his bulk in the small corridor and looked at the tetras before pointing to a pretty set with long black fins, “These are pretty.” He commented, a large finger following one of the flowing males. You ignored his comment in favour of walking closer to a group of purple tinged fish. You looked at the tag. Yagi walked behind you with a hum and grinned over your head.

“Bleeding Heart Tetras?” He asked gently, “Are you sure?”

With a grin you nodded, “Look it says they get a little red blotch like a heart, come on that is adorable. You have to get them!” You persisted.

Yagi laughed and gently led you away with a hand at the base of your back, “Let’s get Reo to catch us some.”

 Reo was surprisingly efficient with a net. He caught fifteen of the small tetras quickly and rung up the price on the register as Yagi snatched a new granule feed and flake for the baby fish.

“That’ll be…” Reo clicked in the prices of the food and smiled, “Nine thousand five hundred yen.” He offered, watching Yagi roll his eyes and pull the cash from his wallet. Reo put the money in the register before smiling, “I put some oxygen in the bag to keep ‘em alive for the journey.” He moved back through the counter and unlocked the door, chewing a small wooden toothpick as he moved out of the way of you both.

“Thank you, Reo. I’ll take good care of them.” Yagi promised with a chuckle.

“You ought to with that tank. I set most of it up with the plants for you myself!” Reo scolded him before waving at you, “Make sure you don’t bore her to death with all your fish talk, Yagi. A girl needs a proper date you know!”

Yagi flushed pink as he shut the door to the shop, “I’ll keep it in mind. Bye, Reo!” He shut the door before he could be tackled by Hina again and sighed.

With a smile you linked your hands together again and tapped his chin, making bright blue eyes look down at you once more, “You won’t bore me with fish talk I promise, Yagi.” You teased as he turned his face away and chuckled awkwardly.

 This time he called a private taxi to get the two of you to travel in. Back to his home. The idea made your heart pound. He trusted you enough to allow for you to go to his home. His private home. The place he spent most of his time in outside of his jam-packed schedule. You wondered what it looked like only after being dazzled by the sleek, leather interior of the private hero taxi. Yagi looked out of place in his sweater and jeans against the fancy interior, more suited to the glamour of his hero costume and persona. Still, he made conversation until you reached his home. It was on the outskirts of the city, into the countryside and set back from many neighbours to avoid the press arriving on his door. He probably had a court order for most to remain away in exchange for regular interviews. You wondered how hard it was for him to have true privacy as the car came to a halt. Yagi clambered out first, paying the driver on his phone before offering you a hand to help you out as well. Placing your hand in his, you let him ease you forwards and out of the taxi before you gazed at the gated home before you.

 The place was modest in size, the heavy gates controlled remotely. The hero drew out his keys from his jean’s pocket and clicked a button on one of the keyrings. The gates beeped before trundling open slowly, revealing the home behind them. It was brick and western in design on the outside, but you wondered if the inside would have the screen doors many Japanese people still used.

Yagi smiled and gestured towards his house, “After you.” He ushered you inside before clicking the button again to close to gates, turning to observe them close before he caught up with you. The garden wasn’t large, yet it was looked after with obvious rookie hands. The lawn was mowed, and the flowerbeds recently, roughly weeded. Bright colours of flowers waved in the beds, and Yagi even had a section of bamboo screening a sitting area, shading it from the Spring sun. It wasn’t hot enough yet to sit in the shade, but you thought on how enjoyable it would be when the summer weather did come back around. You smiled at Yagi as he jogged to you by the door.

 “A ‘Plus Ultra’ doormat?” You asked with a laugh as you gently cleaned your feet off on the mat as Yagi took his door key in his hand.

“I get a lot of the merchandise for free in shipments.” He admitted before ushering you inside. The interior was pretty, but standard, decorated not too long ago, but without much of an idea about making it a home in mind. Cream walls and dark wood. Still, it was expensive, real wooden flooring. You admired the décor as you pulled off your shoes and put them by the rack.

“Here, I’ll hang your jacket.” Yagi eased the material off your shoulders, the fish still in his hand as he hung the jacket and pushed on his large slippers. He offered you the guest slippers before stepping up the step and into his house, gently holding the large bag of fish in both his hands, one hand under the bag and the other holding the top.

“Come on in. We need to float these quickly.” He smiled and gestured for you to follow. You followed closely as he walked you into the open plan living space. The fish tank was large, stationed in the back room with floating live plants waving in the current. Yagi smiled as you looked at the tank with a great smile.

“This is amazing, Yagi. Reo did an amazing job setting it up for you.” The hero sighed at you teasing before carefully positioning the bag in the top of the tank, held in place by the lid as you both glanced at the discoloured fish.

 “Will they be okay?” You asked gently as you pressed a finger to the tank, observing the discoloured little tetras. The other fish in the tank gently moved over to poke at the bag curiously before Yagi turned off the lights.

“They will be fine in a little while. I’ll let them into the tank in fifteen minutes and turn the lamps back on tomorrow. Stressed out, maybe, but fine by tomorrow.”  He stood by the tank for a moment, scuffing a slipper over the floor before coming up with an idea, “Well, would you like to stay for a while?” He asked gently.

“Really?”

Yagi choked on his own spit, “Do you not want to stay? If s-so that is fine! I can arrange you a private taxi home!”

“No no no!” You grabbed his fumbling fingers from his phone and shook your head, “I want to stay!” You clutched his hand and pushed his phone back into the front pocket of his sweater before pinching his chin, “What do you want to do?”

Blushing, Yagi gently wrapped his hand around your own before playing with your fingers, “How about we cook dinner together? I have stuff in.” He let your hands go before gesturing, with his thumb over his shoulder, towards his kitchen, the islands open towards the dining room. With a grin you took his hand and tugged him back towards the kitchen, “Lets do it!” You cheered as you rushed to the sink, leaving Yagi by the islands to think on what the both of you could make.

 As you washed your hands, Yagi hummed and tapped his chin, thinking on what you both could make, “What about Gyudon? Beef bowls aren’t too difficult.” He offered with a smile as he walked over to also wash his hands. You moved to the side as Yagi leaned over the tall counter to wash his hands as well.

“Beef bowls sound great!” You offered before walking back to the middle island and pulling Yagi’s chopping board free from its holder among the others. You pulled a knife out as Yagi dried his hands and moved to the large double door fridge. With a heave he plonked a great bundle of fatty beef steaks on the counter and smiled.

“Are we really going to eat all of that?!” You asked in disbelief as you pulled a knife free from the block.

Yagi laughed brightly, “I eat a lot, but you can take some home and I can keep some. Maybe you can take it to work tomorrow for lunch?” He suggested with a soft look in his blue eyes.

You blushed as you sharpened the knife, “Sure. Give me the beef, you big lug.”

“Sure thing, peaches.” He teased gently as he rolled up his sleeves and cut open the packaging.

 Later, Yagi released the fish into the tank with a coo as the beef sizzled in the pan.

 Rice never tasted so good. You pushed a piece of sticky, soy sauce covered beef into your mouth as Yagi laughed at your eating. His own portion was twice the size of your own, yet he ate a little more reservedly as you chowed down on the fruits of your labour.

“I had no idea you could cook so well, Yagi.” You grumbled after your mouthful of rice, onion and sticky sauce. The sake was starting to get to you. Yagi sipped his own cup of the alcohol as he reached the bottom of his bowl and sighed with satisfaction. It didn’t take you long to finish as well.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked with a chuckle as he finished the last of his drink and took your plates in hand with a satisfied murmur.

“Mhmm.” Your eyelids fluttered as you downed the rest of your alcohol and yawned, “I’m exhausted though.” Smiling sleepily, you opened your eyes when Yagi came back into the room. The yawn was infectious, and Yagi yawned as he returned to the table.

“I think your sleepiness is contagious. How about some television, peach?” Yagi asked as he leaned next to your chair.

“Mhmm.” You whispered again, making grabby hands at him, “I can’t walk there.”

“Come on, peach.” Yagi uttered as he wrapped an arm around you back and hefted your legs with his other, easily pressing you against the strong muscles of his chest as he took you weight and walked you over to his large, cream couch.

 For a moment you shifted, expecting Yagi to plonk you on the large quirk couch in the corner. No such thing happened. With a heave, he held you tighter and sat himself in the corner before kicking his slippers off and pulling his body up on the entire length of the couch. It groaned under his mass of muscle and Yagi smiled down at you, the horns of hair flopping over to tickle your cheeks as he settled into the cushions with another large yawn. You settled against his chest and laughed softly as you crossed your arms and settled your chin against them, humming at the warm arms wrapped around your back, hands pressed to the bottom of your back.

“This is nice.” You cooed up at him before leaning up to kiss the end of his nose, smiling at the blush burning bright on the large hero’s cheeks. You closed your eyes and wrapped yourself tight around Yagi as he reached to turn on the television. An old black and white movie dramatically played quietly in the background.

“Are you comfortable, peach?” He asked, playing with your hair as his hand rubbed at the base of your back, not paying attention to the movie in the slightest. Nodding, you turned your head and rested against his chest, listening to his strong heart thump hard in his chest.

 “Are you nervous, big guy?” You asked with a sleepy smile, humming pleasantly as Yagi continued the soothing motions of his hands over your back. His fingers dipped under your shirt to rub gently, never moving upwards, but just sitting, continuing their calming motion as he yawned again.

“I was…But you’re not as scary as I thought.” He joked as you reached to play with the long strands of his hair, other hand pressed against his pec as you tugged and kissed him. Yagi’s eyes opened before he floundered, fingers clenching before he pushed back gently, eyes closing as he breathed out a long sigh from his nose. You pulled away with a smile as he coughed in embarrassment.

“Thank you for inviting me out Yagi.” You confessed with another soft kiss to his cheek before settling back against his chest.

“You’re welcome, peaches.” He returned your gesture by pulling you up his body, tucking your face close to his neck as he kissed the top of your head and hummed in comfort.

 Neither of you remembered falling asleep as the stars of the movie kissed beneath the Eiffel Tower.

[comic-is-trying-to-write]

The Origin Of The Order [C2]

A dirt, dust, make-do kind of trail within what was suggested to be a near close-roofed forest, only to be guessed by the lighting, though. But in defence, that only made this scene all the most elegant yet calming. This home-like track was gently splattered and softy fluttered with a few, crisp, delicate leaves cross. The actual colours of this frame to be unknown at the first glance for a consequence of the gloaming and ghostly shading, signified it to be the nighttime of the current day, although only the pathway and lower portion of the stocks assuming to be rising, climbable trees appeared as visible. The elegant, content, natural scene with a soft yet very eerie chirp of birds throughout these seconds alongside a slight, home-like breeze was sufficient to cause one to feel nearly equivalent to a peace-filled standing. Of course, nothing can last forever. This calming and tranquillizing twinkling merely took place for nothing more than a few, valuable, fragile trices though. The reason that this pretty hum had been destroyed is that an unforeseen individual, weathering rust-coloured footwear casually scrolled through the soil trail in an imperceptible swifter velocity, producing clicks of a clean, stepping tick. The sound nor the kid beginning to enter into this frame, first into chapter, wasn’t really any kind of intimidation worthy but enough to be accustomed to transfer your attention to the youth’s feet as a result of the minor moving about, a contrast from the still scene. Besides, the child came practically forthwith into this scene, the amicable atmosphere only taking place for about a moment, nothing more than a few seconds…but the enigma is…who is the kid?   Ivor? You’re still byside me, correct?                                                                           A confirmed child with now exposed, closefitting and beige leggings hurriedly yet carefully, shifted his feet about in a revolution, alike to turning around, gazing behind themself, exposing the outline of their brightly toned hair, orange around the brim and a blazing-bright torch in grasped in hand. The kid assumed to be Soren underwent a near motionless position, turned around as if he was either calmly anticipating or looking for something. Soren’s statue-like stance occurred for a something of a second before a more pale-skinned boy who was assigned the appellation of “Ivor,” emerged into outlook, his eyes especially standing out from the close to complete tenebrosity, though Ivor’s more clutz-like entrance didn’t cooperate with his pride. The purple-eyed boy cautiously advanced to his rather ambitious associate in a more expeditious and guarded behaviour before the both of them walked onwards within the star-filled night, shadowing darker shades through the numerous trees, far overhead of any and all passersby in the beautiful purple-wooded and red-petaled forest that stretched out all the way to…well, no one actually knew. Not the children anyways. The twilight lighting maintained a delicate and elegant shading. What you think would be a premade path within the woods was actually a normal, grassy area, pushed aside commonly enough by children, adventurous enough to wander into the danger-filled forest to accumulate a sort of dirt passageway that was polished upon by the moon which was reaching its zenith in the sky, it being rather close to that day’s midnight…and within that midnight, Ivor and Soren came to yet another fork in the pathway of the forest, one on the left to seem to be leading upwards and presumably out of this woodlands, the opposing appearing to be directing even farther into that labyrinth that was the wilderness. Ivor for one, simply yearned to get at a gap from the forest, meaning that when Soren guided him to the route farther into the hinterland, that set off some solicitudes as Ivor looked a slight to the sky;

“Soren, I think that we’re astray…”

“Not to worry, Ivor!” Soren encouraged, enthusiastically turning around and walking backwards, eyes still on Ivor, “Trust me when I say that I’m aware of where we’re going!”

“We don’t even have anything to fend ourselves with…”

“I told you not to worry, Ivor!” Soren reminded, now walking byside of his purple-eyed friend, “Ellegaard and Magnus said that they’d bring wooden weaponry for us and that this other, given the name of ‘Gabriel’ is astonishing when it comes to wielding a sword…!”

“See, I’m all for safety in numbers, however…” Ivor desisted in an angry sigh, not sure of what he wanted to say, “Listen Soren, I’m just…not all that keen on going on a venture with two kids we’re just met and one that we haven’t…!” Ivor’s tone took more power with the last few words.

“No need to be paranoid, Ivor,” Soren reassured in a more subtly calming tone, “These children are experienced.”

“Experienced?” Ivor questioned in a sharp, almost angry tone, “They’re not even as much as a year older than us!” Ivor hissed aloud, hastily shifting his head a bit more towards his ginger companion.

“They said that they’ve gone exploring many times before, Ivor,” Soren mentioned, the tone of his voice rising with more enthusiasm, bringing his free arm up in a shrug swiftly, palm open, “Of course, they’re experienced!

“You cannot believe everything alleged, Soren…”

The moon and stars shimmed and glistened above with a shimmer throughout that night. The phosphorescence befell upon each and every citizen with a polished, gleaming sparkle and a more chilled breeze, releasing a blanket of mysteriosity in an eerie, creep yet swift as could be–the covers would drop upon both one’s who’re awaken and one’s who’re resting in a soft, soothing glitter and gleam of reassurance; still in help of the gaze far, far aloft. All of the luna glittered within its beautiful, twilight atmosphere as its pure white hue illuminates the range surrounding the exquisite spheroid, unreachable even from the inexperienced. The bells from the moon scream and scream the names of victims that left their families and dearest friends that day, deliberately or other. A subtle memorial each and every night howled and hummed a tone of admiration and reassurance as you look upwards and towards the sphere up above. You notice a scintillate in the luna as you gaze to the sky’s twilight. What’s that? Did you spot a sparkle? Well, what that signifies is an alteration of perspective. Although you’re concentrated upon the moon, you can hear Ivor calling out a question quietly that’s nothing more than one, single additional line from his viewpoint;

“Soren…? Do you also have this strange feeling that something bad will happen?”

- - -

“Magnus, quit it…!”

“Aw c’mon, Ellie!” A bird donning the shades of orangish-red and grey-like white hurriedly flies elsewhere in startlement and survival-instinct, as an outcome of something unclear being briskly tossed at the lifeform, “I’m just having fun…!”

Magnus’s tone was that of one that said to be an intentional pitch, trying to get under Ellegaard’s skin. The green jacket-wearing boy flipped a leftover wooden stick which turned out to be the object to cause the bird to panic, flying into the air, grabbing the branches before they proceeded to befall to the darkened, forest terrain in his left hand, a wooden sword in the other, turning to Ellegaard with a deliberately more ironic voice and an expression that was plainly intended to irritate the lass. It worked. Ellegaard couldn’t help but pointlessly retaliate with him, futilely attempting to make him cease to be such a nuisance. Then again, Magnus wouldn’t be Magnus without his astonishingly vexatious tendency. She brushed that thought off, grasping the wooden sword in her hand imperceptibly tighter, another two boarded blades secured through the belt around her waist, jacket beneath as she and Magnus sauntered through the forest, a nighttime atmosphere glowing, fainting onto the children and environment throughout.

“Your ‘fun’ is harmful to wildlife!”

“And your fun is looking at fancy lights as they burn up.”

“Hey, speak for yourself, bastard…! It’s actually very interesting, thank you!”

“Oh, I get it,” Magnus laughs that in a witty idea, “You’re just scared of the dark,” Magnus teased, slightly elongating the last word.

“What?” Ellegaard sibilated, confused.

“Doesn’t redstone give off a natural light?” Magnus jeers, somewhat lengthening the final term yet again, “I guess you just like it ‘cause you hate the dark…!” He hissing “dark” with an extra taunting and edge-like tone.

“Hey! A phobia of the dark is actually a sign of high survival-instinct…!”

“So…” Magnus replied, still in a gibing pitch but now in a wise-guy tone, “You are?”

“M-” A sharp snap of a twig cuts Ellegaard off, having her to reflexively, violently shove an arm to Magnus’s chest, a halting gesture. Her head snapped back to watch in front of herself, opposed to glaring at Magnus, “Did you hear that?” She asked in a firm and guarded pitch.

“Oh, yeah,” Magnus barbed, “It’s just the sound of a nerd changing the topic…!”

“No, you idiot,” Ellegaard stared fiercely at her ally, “It sounded like-!” A creeper carefully emerged from the brambles ahead of the duo, making a racket blatant enough for a warning to be said. The monster wasn’t looking at them but it was looking and the right-bottom as if the abnormality was attempting to watch its step, afraid of tripping to the ground. Ellegaard and Magnus both noticed the menace at near the same time, however, the damsel was the one to take action, abruptly tackling Magnus to the bushes, the right of the kids in a hiding and panicked movement, a hand loosely over his mouth so he couldn’t yelp out in startlement. As the pair duck into the hedges, glimpsing their heads out, anticipating to look at a single creeper, nothing else, they notice that somehow, a cluster of monsters surrounded the proximity. From skeletons, spiders, zombies, creepers, even an enderman or two…the monstrosities completely encircled the area. Completely. Not a foot was covered without a monster occupancy in the crepuscular shadows, a mysterious dim befell. Look at the monsters, eye-contact unnecessary, and the monstrosities would shoot in a gaze their frigid glare that perpetually intensified throughout nightfalls although it might’ve been a natural survival instinct, even if both of the human presence were children. Speaking of which…the kids…the poor, poor kids…they didn’t even have to tell one another to comprehend the fact that if a monster saw them, meaning every one of them…although they both had weaponry and understood how to use them…they’d unquestionably be dead where they stand. Unnecessary and obvious to be said, the kids instantaneously ducked out of sight in a reflex and survival-instinct. In fear, they pressed their backs up against the shrubs, desperately striving to remain out of view, paralyzed in apprehension for a few, heavy seconds, hallucinating a spine-chilling tune banging hard in their ears alike to how I’m positive that you would if your life was on the line, all so suddenly. The kids were scrambling through their minds for an plan to get out of the monster-infested area. Ellegaard tried the best she could to remain calm and keep her pride up but really the most logical plan she could think of underneath the panic that she was experiencing was to endure a sneaking escape as cunningly as they could be, tapping Magnus’s shoulder and motioning for him to follow her as they began to crawl to safety, Ellegaard with the lead. That was Ellegaard’s plan. Magnus’s? As the pair slithered past a slightly more vulnerable state, cause of the less poofy hedge, Magnus took out a small bundle of TNT, a mildly maniacal smile wore, him being presumably ready to inflame and toss it towards the monster-infested territory and he would’ve had if Ellegaard didn’t interfere and forcefully pull him by his sleeve, firmly directing him to follow her. Wordlessly, that is. Magnus though bitter, the kids proceed to creep their way past the monsters discreet as possible. As you move your eyes to the moon, far out of the forest, a close silhouette of another quickly fills the frame with a grey as they strive off.

- - -

“There it is!”

Magnus and Ellegaard proclaimed that phrase in sync of each other upon locating the cave’s entrance, Ellegaard pointing an arm and finger, Magnus louder than the lass. Despite what has the possibility of sounding like, given their tones, even after maybe half-an-hour, the duo still wasn’t at the opening of the hollow. The only reason the pair saw the cavern was because of the result of climbing higher, onto a more steeper kind of hill, the rise being more narrow and almost perpendicular than any kind of thick. Trees were to the left and right of the kids, so close that they had to clasp the plants to keep their balance; to look out at their destination. This moderate mountain was slightly off-trail and harder to escalate upon, however, both of the children were appreciative of a signal made of reassurance, confirming that they weren’t astray from the correct direction. Nonetheless, despite the fact that eerie fog encompassed the cavern and the night’s atmosphere generally, they had the ability to see two, clouded figures with blur. All that was visible was one form donning a light orange colour, more still than the other, the other with purple tints, nearly gleaming its violet hue, moving in circles. It has to be Soren and Ivor, yeah?

“Magnus, come on,” Ellegaard started, slipping down the hill, swiftly moving back to the trail before the moon sparks and shimmers, “Don’t you think that it’s best that we hurry? They’ve been waiting there for how long now?” Wonder what they’re thinking. After all, we are late.

- - -

“Soren, I feel that we should just go home.”

“It’s barely midnight, Ivor. They’ll come along.”

“You’re getting tired, so am I. I really am starting to doubt that they’re going to show up.”

“Ivor, please. Have faith in them.”

“We’ve been here for a while, Soren.”

“Have some patience, Ivor.”

“Think about it, Soren: they have no reason to come.”

“Ivor…”

“Way to have confidence in us!”

An enigmatic, loud, male-associated voice echoed and cut throughout this one, particular, already eerie, nighttime’s atmosphere, the sunless environment not encouraging to relieve or lessen the very brief, few flashes of panic, tension and dismay, cause of the abrupt sound. The duo was already guarded because of the fact that the nightfall caused monsters to generate, posing danger to; an obvious fact. The few footsteps, both before and after, disregarded, Ivor flitched in startlement of the sudden voice and took a step retrograde, a reasonable instinct, small portion of meadow beneath his near-black boots crushed to crippled. Soren instantaneously jumped up, onto his feet, his heart violently shifted alike to Ivor’s, startled of the call which pounded in and out of their ears, unforeseen and unexpected as could be. Though at a second thought, slightly familiar. Not that the pair had the ability to properly think about though because of the fact that at once, out of the twilight darkness, Ellegaard and Magnus emerged, both donning a confident still stance once they knew for a fact that they were visible to Ivor and Soren, judging by their expressions.

Ellegaard remarked, “The levels of distrust you must’ve had in us to think that we weren’t going to show up…!”

Ivor shifted the topic, “Yes well, what did take so long?”

“Oh, you should’ve seen it, Ivor!” Magnus over-exaggerated, “The biggest cluster of mobs you’ve ever seen jumped out at us, so we blew them up with a giant pile of TNT!”

Soren asked in a concerned tone while Ivor went silent, “W-what?”

“He’s exaggerating in a plain lie,” Ellegaard reassured, “He wanted to explode the monsters but I didn’t let him.”

“Well,” Soren laughed in concern, closed-eyes, “I’m glad.”

Ivor slowly added, “Blow them up…?”

“Yeah, check this out!” Magnus revealed a small bundle of TNT, he was carrying around with him, a smile wore, “I stole it from my old man.”

“I keep telling him not to play around with that stuff anymore…!” Ellegaard continued, childishly trying to get the explosive in hand and away from Magnus with both arms, the boy insisting her away with only one elbow, ultimately giving her arms a gentle yet firm push, Ellegaard finally ceasing her snatches;

“Yeah, but you never know when we might need it!” Magnus replied, tucking the item away and into his inventory yet again. That, of course, took place before Soren added a phrase ecstatically, a contrast to Ivor casting his opinion in, pessimistically.

“I feel that’s going to be useful!”

“I feel that we’re going to die.”

- - -

Whist the meagre kind of crowd commenced setting foot into the cavern which they had formulated and planned to explore throughout, completely prepared, equipped and enthusiastic…well, most of the children anyway. Ivor never failed to love the adventure aspect of things but never the whole: “we-could-so-easily-die” part. Despite that, he wasn’t really a coward. At least not visibly. He was just more cautious. Regardless, as I said, most of the children were excited to undergo and experience this thrilling adventure. They were prepared because of the fact that they planned in a more prolonged discussion several hours, beforehand. Beforehand in the sense that it was that day’s evening and only two of the children ever went into a cave beyond dusk. Or well, at all. Ivor and Soren would sometimes wander into a hollow now and then, but would never go far enough into a dugout that monsters had a risk of jeopardizing them, performing as a menace or hazard to the pair. In fact, nor Ivor, nor Soren could remember exterminating a single monster. Directly, at least. Regardless of the eerie hums of breeze, the cavern echoing throughout the seconds and soft clicks of decaying spiderwebs, Soren glanced behind the group and out of the cave, noticing something wrong;

“I thought you said that your friend of ‘Gabriel’ was coming? Did…he cancel?”

“Here we go again with the again with the enthusiasm…” Ellegaard sighed, “He’ll be a bit late. He needs to wait until his parents fall asleep and then he’d come running.”

“Oh, alright,” Soren apologized his pride still up, “Sorry…”

“Eh,” Magnus added, “I like your enthusiasm.”

“Oh…” Soren asked, genuinely a bit surprised, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Magnus teased, “Makes me seem better by comparison.”

“Magnus…!” Ellegaard objected whilst Ivor had a small and subtle case of laughter.

“Regardless…” Soren rolled his eyes, “Should…we not wait for him?”

“No,” Ellegaard answered, “He knows his way around this cave. He’ll find us.”

“Wait, you’ve come here before?” Ivor asked, bitterly, “It’s not really an adventure if it’s explored, after all…!”

Although Ivor was comforted and relieved that his unfamiliar, new friends recognized and knew their way throughout this cavern which, even though they’d merely presently penetrated, both Soren and Ivor already understood the fact that this particular dugout remained of rather great measurements and very open-ended as well. Regardless, the mental-map Magnus and Ellegaard possessed on the eerie location made Ivor consider him and Soren merely a little more protected. However, it also demolished and drained the enchanting adventure aspect of this unquestionably. After all, if it was thoroughly investigated and explored, they’d be accomplishing nothing but watching cobwebs snap, at that point. What would be the purpose of sneaking out, endangering the fact of getting in trouble with their parents, only to take a few-hour walk? That’s…not even anything that would be fun. Sure, playing around with friends is, but…this? They had a discussion about going into this cavern, why wasn’t the fact this place was already travelled throughout brought up? Ivor agreed to go on an adventure, not take a tour through a cave whilst it was nightfall. Ellegaard, Soren and Magnus all understood how Ivor only craved to come along to go on an adventure…! Surely this could be considered a trick, no?

“Nope!” Ellegaard explained with a bit of sass, “That’s where you’re wrong…! There are numerous spiralling paths farther through. We discovered a trail last time and didn’t take it,” The lass spoke before turning her back and directing the few in a walking action, “We can go down that way.”

The other three children followed their female friend towards a pathway in the particular cave, them naturally sauntering in something of a near cluster, obviously not the only sounds being of the to-be-expected clicks and cracks of the cave, though. That would clearly keep all of the kids both on-edge and creeped-out. Alternatively, the kids continuously conversated amongst one another regarding unimportant, frivolous topics in discussion. And while some of them wouldn’t admit it…it was nice. Soren and Ivor barely knew the other two, same for Magnus and Ellegaard, so getting to know the opposite duo had all of the four kids feel pleasant. They got to know things regarding each other’s interests, aspirations, general behaviour and personality, even learning some things about this unseen “Gabriel” kid--all such to-be-expected small-talk. Even if they weren’t technically on the enterprise just yet, they remained to have a lot of fun regardless. After all, these children are what? In between the age ranges of ten and twelve? Were you anticipating a different activity throughout the span of twenty minutes? Although at that point, the children were all very much content doing nothing but prattling with each other, even if they were in a cave…well, I say cave and, yes–there was some ore, here and there, but it was closer to bland than exceptional, for sure. The hollow was repeating and reappearing the likewise minerals, over and over again: Iron, coal, the very sporadic redstone or lapis, but as I said, far from anything truly outstanding…Not that the kids took notice on that over something else unquestionably questionable: they hadn’t been attacked or encountered anything aggressive since the children went down into the cavern. However, that didn’t mean that the children couldn’t overhear the noises of monsters crying out, occasionally interrupting the children’s conversations. It kept them all on-edge but the fact that the monsters were never visible, nearly made the children feel alike to the belief that they were going insane. In fact, the single actual indication of any kind of life that they saw was a bat purposelessly fluttering about. Other than each other, that is. I mean, not that they were complaining that they weren’t being attacked, of course. They liked it, obviously. Well…nothing can last forever.

- - -

“Just think, Ivor…! Soren addressed, “Someday, perhaps we’ll find diamonds or something else terribly exciting! You could finally make that enchanting table that you’ve always dreamed of…!”

“Yes, that’s true….” Ivor said as he glanced away, slightly hushing his voice, “But what I actually want is a brewing stand…It’s just that I never got a blaze rod, therefore…”

Magnus perked up, offering his assistance, “Dude, if a blaze rod is all that you need, I’ll just take one from my old man…!”

“Well, don’t steal from your father, Magnus…” Ivor responded, “If it’s stolen then I don’t want it…”

“Don’t mind him,” Ellegaard shook her head, “He’s a griefer at heart.”

“And I’m proud of it!”

Magnus’s response prompted assorted reactions to the ragtag, three other children, amongst the byside of him. Despite their distinguished personalities, feedback towards his phrase matching, what they had in alike with one another concerning their responses was the laughs. Verbal-filler or unhidden audible, Magnus was simply…Magnus and everybody knew that nobody in existence maintained the capability to prevent him. Him or his self-confidence, that is. In hindsight, it’s most beneficial that you perpetually acknowledge and appreciate any and all content and peaceful moments, displaying gratitude and being kind to your allies, even if it requires your pride to drain. You never know if that occurrence is going to be the final one you’ll have for a while. That, or ever. I guess that the only way for some people to learn is the hard way, hm? Once the four got sauntering throughout again, torch in Soren’s hand, a few flares provided to Magnus and Ellegaard, it didn’t require a prolonged measure of time for the more diminutive type of party to arrive at a more open-ending portion of the cavern, two pathways, one on the left opposing to the right, developing as a fork in the hollow, all members of the assortment gazing curiously down both passageways. Most of the members, anyways. Magnus-being-Magnus, he swiftly steered himself into the center of the range, looking at his companions, hands on his hips;

“Alright, guys! Time to split-up!”

Everyone, even Soren, of all people, simultaneously chanted back with a; “What!?”  

“You can’t seriously think that we’re going to scatter, can you?” Ellegaard asserted with a threating edge, Ivor joining the argument as he took a step forwards;

“Are you aware of the increased chances of disaster striking if we are separated?”

“It’s not like we’re completely scattering, Ivor…!” Magnus notified, “You’ll have Soren with you and Ellie’ll be with me…!”

“Magnus,” Ellegaard quarrelled, “Of all of your dumb ideas…death is on the horizon, you know!”

Magnus informed, “Hey, if you guys wanna experience the *real* thrill of adventure then this is the only way!”

Ellegaard gibed, “Yeah, the real thrill of death!”

“You told me to stop exaggerating?”

“That was genuine,” Ivor defended, “This is just going to get us all killed.”

“Oh, come on!” Magnus retaliated, “All, you, Ellie and Soren, are completely incapable of defending yourselves! You’re lucky that there are not four paths!”

“Not helping, Magnus.”

“Don’t worry!” Soren said very quickly, nearly interrupting Ellegaard’s and Ivor’s simultaneous phrase, the three hauled the argument and looked at the ginger, “We can do this!”

“Can we though?” Ellegaard mocked, turned back and glaring at Magnus.

“Ellegaard,” Soren assured, “We will all be fine. Really…!”

Both Ellegaard and Ivor sighed a heavy exhalation of contemplation. Soren was respectable. Everyone respected him. Even if they were scarcely associated with him. Including Magnus and Ellegaard. Couldn’t act against him. Nobody actually knew why. Perhaps it was how enthusiastic yet slightly native he could behave…perhaps it was a simplicity that it was his general personality that was something that you could acknowledge and appreciate…perhaps it was the fact that it was evident that he was eternally trying the best that he could, even though, at several times, his best was never enough…you truthfully couldn’t place your finger upon it. Couldn’t. Genuinely, nobody recognized and understood why precisely Soren could easily be a favorite of someone. All that people understood was that Soren’s personality was having himself to appear as a rather respectable character. Towards ones around Soren’s age and within his friendship-group, that is. Actually…you know something? Many years, hindsight thought, having an image of Soren that was donning the characteristic of ”respectable” is actually rather funny.  Very funny.

“If your path forks off, head back here,” Ellegaard explained, “We’ll meet hither in approximately an hour and then head back up, alright?”

Soren smiled, clapping his hands together whilst Ivor wordlessly nods, “Understood!”

“Good luck, guys!” Magnus encouraged, newly inflamed torch in grip as he vanished down the right-sided path, Ellegaard pausing for a few trices, giving her new friend’s bothered and worried expressions before she disappeared down the course with Magnus.

Ivor’s sighed yet again, “This is a terrible idea…”

“Not to worry, Ivor,” Soren reassured, shortly before he commenced his way to the shaft on the left-hand side of the area, Ivor following. “I’m positive that we’ll be fine!”

Ivor merely grumbled as he and his befriended companion progressed and ventured into the tunnel, the extremely plausible threats, menaces and dangers that of monstrosities that were more than certain to be prowling and lurking all throughout the unarguable darkness up ahead and onwards, oh-so-patiently anticipating to unforgivingly attack the incapable, anxious. Sneak. Scare. Slay. Straight ahead. Straight ahead to where he and Soren were directing themselves towards. The vibrations and faint but noticeable sounds, cracks and snaps of the unknown echoed all throughout, bouncing off the wall of both the tunnel and Ivor’s mind. Soren overlooked it. Soren overlooked a lot, didn’t he? The abnormalities creeping in within the eerie cavern kept Ivor to safeguard himself but still as incompetent as he always was. Well, guess you’ve changed in some ways, huh Ivor? Drastically. That’s apparent. That strange, tingling feeling and atmosphere compressed up against Ivor’s fingertips, polished off with his abhorrence of the fact that he knew that he was more than vulnerable and that he couldn’t fight even if he needed to battle to shield his life. Foreshadowing. Chapter hindsight. The fear-filling authenticity of the situation was negatively sparking and overfilling Ivor’s mind. Overfilling his mind. Overfilling his mind.

“And I’m positive that we’re going to die.”

- - -

Magnus alongside his companion “Ellegaard” proceeded to progress throughout the ominous, unexplored passage, their chosen footwear clicking and clacking in contact upon the decrepit stone damaging aloud underneath their adventure-driven heels, the atmosphere donning the sensation of eerie-ness and creep, most advisable is to endure as safeguarded and on-edge as possibly achievable, the mysterious environment to act of the cause of the children to advance onwards whilst they function themselves as the personality traits of both skepticism and prudence of the darkened section, though a smaller vicinity was illuminated, result of an inflamed torch that Magnus had a grasp upon. The inflamed a blazing, bright shade; almost appearing as a perfect golden chroma. The controlled flame radiated a warm, home-like heat under the circumstance that a particular vicinity was entered, though proceeding to an exceedingly nearby proximity would perform alike to a lingering, consistent, unmerciful injury and pain, however, I’m sure that you already knew that. Not all about the beacon had acted of dangerous, however, for the flame would let the children take glances throughout the scratched walls as they sauntered into the darkness ahead.

“Hey, Magnus…?” Ellegaard suddenly asked, ”Are you thinking about Ivor and Soren?”

“Ellie,” Magnus replied, Magnus-being-Magnus, “I wasn’t thinking about them four-and-a-half minutes ago and I was standing right next to them.”

“Oh haha,” Ellegaard sarcastically remarked, taking a brief pause, “…Do you reckon that they’re safe?”

“Why are you so conce-” Magnus got cut off by Ellegaard who sprang to speak a bit fastly;

“Did you see how anxious Ivor seemed?” She resumed her regular dialogue pace, “And how desperate Soren acted?”

“Uh…” Magnus didn’t really notice anything off about the two, meaning that he wasn’t really sure what to say, so he decided the good-old-phrasing of ‘honesty is the best policy,’ “No. Nope. Not one bit.”

“Hm, “Ellegaarrd took a very brief moment to think with her verbal-filler, “Okay. Well, regardless of what-”

“Was that a pun?” Magnus joked, a laughing tone.

“What?”

“Re-Elle-gaard-less?”

“…No,” Ellegaard directly and quickly dismissed, her eyes sending off a slight sparkle, “Anyways, regardless of what you think, don’t you wonder if they’re okay…?”

- - -

Soren and Ivor seized a leap upwards, onto a ledge naturally constructed of smooth, clean stone, estimated by the sound that it made once the duo, exclusively consisting of males–in the future–pounced and onto the edge meaning of which they now possessed an exceptional perspective of what they had discovered, Soren and Ivor a few feet, opposing sides of one another, although the likewise balcony that they had jumped onto, Ivor for one, very imperceptibly, unnoticeably struggling to recapture his equilibrium, instantaneously positioning himself with a single palm clasped against the left-hand-side of the hollow. Assumed, I mean. Their near-to-complete-sable silhouettes performing of visible from this, aforementioned viewpoint, it being so darkened to the point of where both of their afar characters thoroughly blended and merged within this specific, crazy-inducing, one-of-a-kind, open-ended location, the darkness portraying itself alike to the two children, waring the physical status of being unquestionably surrounded in blackness from each and every perspective. Encompassed in blackness from each and every perspective. Choked in darkness from each and every perspective. Both of the boys felt a cold breeze of wind pass by them. They overlooked it. After all, discovering a colossal ravine could distract you like that.

Ivor’s laughed with excitement, subsequent of them sliding their way down the ledge, “This is amazing!”

“And I bet Magnus and Ellegaard are merely on some winding path getting nowhere!” Soren called out cheerfully as they walked towards the edge of the ravine, Ivor kneeling down and looking down the valley, numerous minerals radiating against the dim, stone background, Soren still standing, ”This is wonderful!”

Ivor smiled, “Evidently!”

“Should we go back and tell the other two?”

“Ssssssssss…”

It wasn’t even necessary for the children to grasp as much as a glimpse behind them in order to know specifically what had soundlessly slithered and undesirably crept up behind them, sending shivers down both of their spines once they had been notified in the cause of the quiet yet very noticeable hissing, breaking the mere clicks of the cave, not cutting through the air though, the sound remaining so quiet. Although both of the children shared the characteristic of not possessing many occurrences with creepers, a cluster of several or other, adults had informed and would perpetually warn the children of monsters lurking throughout the world of terror, school educating kids concerning the distinctive varieties of abnormalities, signifying that both Ivor and Soren were both all-too-familiar with the hiss. Even if they weren’t taught on the subject of monsters–a monstrosity that would explode, close to instantaneously upon entering its proximity, a painful detonation, especially towards characters with lower health points and protection, the after-effects of the eruption causing people to end up flying, would plausibly register the unique and formidable creature as notorious, would it not? Soren called Ivor’s name out shortly after he instantaneously shifted aside, out of view, though he didn’t fully revolve his feet about to look aback at the creeper, respectively crept behind them. He didn’t look behind himself. He merely turned and swifted himself to a distance wordlessly;

“Ivor!”

An explosion sound echoed throughout the cave. A smokey output implied that the creeper had shattered. Presumably being the cause of Ivor being sent flying. Ivor had been aware of the abnormality at the back of him but flight-fight-or-freeze overwhelmed Ivor to cease himself and halt in a frightened status. Soren did endeavour himself to give a warning to Ivor but he informed him just as the monstrosity fragmented into oblivion, Ivor forcefully plunging over the ledge as result; The cold stone that he only barely and much more than fortunately grasped his fingers upon made his heart sense the sensation of chilled in a consequence of him being overpowered to hang overhead of the void that was the gapping ravine, Ivor respectively being incompetent to aid himself. The bottomless abyss separating the unvisible ground from Ivor’s being, stretched as faraway downhill as the eye had the ability to be seen. The aforementioned reality made Ivor feel as scared to death as could be, which is nothing short of entirely fair. After all, if he lost his clutch upon the chilled cliff, which was already into an unbound, unfixed status, he would unquestionably perish and there’d be no alternative possibility to survive. That’s something that’s set in stone;

“S-Soren…!” Ivor cried out, “H-Help…!”

The situation even panicked Soren and he was as much several feet away from Ivor who was at the edge of the ravine. The fact that Soren was the only one who was nearby and witnesses to Ivor’s downfall–Ivor directly addressing him, made Soren feel like he had an obligation to rescue him. Which he did. However..he was so, so scared, indicating that he slowly made his way to Ivor but he was only able to start to creep over to Ivor for maybe a second or two because suddenly, something slim and fast darted in front of him, forcing Soren to let out a gasp and jump away, hurting himself somehow. He couldn’t even process where he was before something else hastily shot the stone beside him, sounding a distinctive noise. The unexpected movement had Soren to look to the right of him, now being able to realize that he tripped onto the floor, near to a wall of the cavern after losing his balance…and that what had blasted to the side of him was an arrow. An arrow from a skeleton. He got a sick feeling. He looked up. And almost screamed. Several skeletons were standing feet away from him, one of which was preparing to discharge another missile at him, another being rather close to the ginger boy, other few shooting their weaponry at Ivor’s fingertips, luckily missing–Ivor letting out light yelps of panic every shot. Soren quickly slid away from the monsters while he was stooped down onto his feet, swiftly skimming his hands along the ground with him, making sure he didn’t stumble, an arrow nearly hit him shortly before hastily getting into a standing position once he was apart from the corner and closer to the ledge they had initially come down from to the ravine from, though Soren still shook and slowly retreated aside in fear.

“S-Soren!”

Soren’s heart collapsed into his stomach in a guilty sentiment of Ivor addressing his scarf-wearing friend to assist him. If Soren would help Ivor, that would be the single, possible way Ivor could chance-ly survive. Soren was shaking in a debate with himself about what to do. After all, a several-hundred-feet, lethal fall isn’t exactly too much of a laughing matter. Soren couldn’t really concentrate on his emotions though because before an oh-so-familiar hissing sound emanated from behind him, Soren’s appearance visibly showing a panicked response upon noticing both the sibilance and sense of presence at the back of him. His nervous trembling solely intensified, though his expression changed quickly as another loud explosion thundered throughout the dust. All that Soren was capable to see in between the black and the reality swapping in and out was a loose figure of his hands. That was the good news. Bad one? Soren could see in his peripheral vision the feet of monsters immediately and quickly approaching him. It sent shivered down Soren’s spine instantly, having him to second-naturally slide and dart to the north-right, far enough for the ginger to be at a position where he was at some sort of dirt tunnel that seemed to be explored, judging by dim torches among the walls via around the corner. Literally. Soren glanced into the hollow in…self-preservation. That’s what he'd like to say, anyway. Monsters were approaching both him and Ivor; Ivor being to left swinging overhead a fatal fall…Ellegaard, Magnus and “Gabriel” were nowhere to be seen…Ivor’s death was on the horizon…Soren did want to help Ivor but everything was going so, so terribly and his own life was in danger to such, such an extent…   Probably the first time that the group learned about Soren’s coward tendencies. Yet another case of “really-haven’t-changed-one-bit-have-you?” I suppose that some people never learn, huh?

“S-SOREN!” Ivor yelled out, “Y-You…!”

Ivor’s scrambling, motivation to reacquire his foothold did nothing more than solely intensifying. Now he was his single, only, exclusive hope. Not Soren. The ginger wasn’t courageous enough to assist him. To help him. To prevent him from dying. Soren didn’t reckon that he was competent to fleetingly and cautiously dash through-past the hollow and to the cliff-like ravine, purpose to aid Ivor without unwantedly getting himself lacerated, one way or another. He unquestionably understood the fact that Ivor was going to die if he was overpowered to take the deep plunge to the ground but…he couldn’t help him. Anymore, that is. Ivor was violently clambering his hands about, desperately attempting to hook himself back onto the platform, however, it was hopeless and he was eventually interrupted with chipping sound and vibration, somewhat complicating the more pale-skinned boy. Why on earth was there a chipping noise? He discovered the reason sooner than he’d prefer. Ivor collapsed into a soundless atmosphere, a slow-motioned climate crumbled into, in the terror of the much more than the horrific reality that he already knew would happen:

He was falling to his death.

Over. Gone. Dead.

A hard, dusty surface is all that Ivor could feel.

“Quick, go back through that tunnel!”

Ivor flitched in as a result of a loud, unexpected voice. Even in his death-frightened status, the specific person’s vocals impressed him. It verbalized as so confident and assurable, but assertive and commanding. An individual that already merited Ivor’s admiration obligated him into springing up onto his feet and thoughtlessly hastening over to a familiar dirt-and-stone-made tunnel, not even thinking about taking as much as a fleeting glimpse behind himself. It felt like a never-ending goose-chase to the cavern even though it took as much as a few seconds to dart over to the shaft, but he made it eventually. That’s when then and only then Ivor settled together what had happened. How he survived. He did feel a very brief pressure on his wrists before he must’ve been swiftly projected onto the stone platform; Last mystery being...who exactly saved him? The voice sounded nothing alike to Soren’s. For that matter, not Ellegaard’s or Magnus’s; although the lass could already be ruled out as a result of the voice being of male-associated. Ivor was completely out-of-breathe. He kneeled down on one knee, attempting to take a halt on his hyperventilation. Before he even knew it, the boy who had presumably rescued him, came rushing into the dusty drift, barricading the route back up with dirt, him taking a breath of relief.

“Thank you…” Ivor quietly responded, “You saved my life…”

“It’s no problem...” The other replied, “...Though…I do have to ask why you weren’t with Magnus and Ellegaard in the first place. You’re either Ivor or Soren, and I take it that the other kid that went running is the latter…” His voice lost interest as he said the final few words, him starting like he was talking to himself, thinking.

“How…do you know us?”

“I was supposed to come here and meet you all here but my folks took a long time to get to sleep, making it harder for me to sneak out of my house...”

“So…” Ivor had a small smile break across his face, “You’re Gabriel then…!”

He nodded, “That’s me. But the question still remains, how come you scattered with Magnus and Ellegaard?”

“It was Magnus’s idea.” Ivor paused, talking even lower, “…None of us really wanted to…”

“Magnus…” Gabriel glances away, sighing angrily, talking under his breath and to himself, barely being audible, “Where does that boy get these ideas…”

“You…said that you saw Soren?”

“He went running past me and when I tried to stop and talk to him, he kept running…Not sure if he even noticed me,” Gabriel sighed, “Some friend that he is…Didn’t even try to help you.”

“Yes, well…that doesn’t matter now.”

The darker-skinned boy disapprovingly sighed and shook his head left and right before beckoning his hand a gesture and walking off, indicating for Ivor to accompany–to follow behind him. Notably, they didn’t actually have anything of a conversation with one another. They did nothing more than simply advancing alongside each other in silence. Gabriel seemed to be thinking, so Ivor didn’t want to try and start a conversation. It may or may not’ve taken a while but eventually, Gabriel and Ivor perambulated into the original location of were Soren, Ivor, Ellegaard and Magnus, scattered cross two different routes. As soon as they got to the aforementioned area, Magnus and Ellegaard had already been anticipating and waiting for them, Ivor and Gabriel catching them to be sitting on the chilly, grey-stone ground. Unrelatedly, an interesting fact is that Gabriel and Ivor appeared to have entered from the pathway that Ellegaard and Magnus had been searching thoroughly, an adventurous atmosphere in tow. That detail was a bit more of a nitpick, though. After all, it could easily be resolved by simply saying that there was an alternation entrance to that path. Regardless, upon the boy and girl duo noticing their previously not-to-be-seen friend’s arrival, they both perked up, around the same time and smiled, providing themselves with their customary, friendly welcomings;

“Gabe!” Ellegaard greeted, jokingly and playfully smiling, “Took long enough.”

“Pff,” Magnus scoffed at his female comrade, “Least they’re here.”

Ellegaard laughed before her snicker fizzled out and turned a more earnest tone, “Uh...speaking of people being here….where is Soren?”

Gabriel’s expression turned from an unnoticed stern one to a genuinely surprised and confused one, “He didn’t come through here?”

Magnus went silent, looking somewhat troubled. Ellegaard took it upon herself to ask, “He’s not with you?”

Ivor suggested, “I guess that means that he went back up to the surface…?”

That was a reasonable conclusion. After all, that was the single alternative direction he could’ve proceeded through without travelling into an unfamiliar territory. Back at the entrance of the cave was their only indication and trance of where Soren could’ve advanced–disappearing into. Although every one of the four children aspired to get back to the opening of the cavern and back to their individual addresses as quickly as they possibly could’ve–possessing a half of a motivation to avoid getting in trouble with their guardians once they arrived at their home. It took them approximately twenty minutes or so of ascertaining their trail back to the sunlight. Or lack of it. The fact was because of the reality that by the time that the kids had reached a proximity of the surface, nearby enough to glimpse at the sky–it portraying a beautiful amalgam of colours with the varieties from a flushed, pink hue to pretty violet shade–a chroma of a sunrise, the moon of inscrutability beginning to set among and past the distant horizon. As the children approached the threshold of the open-ended hollow, they took a notice upon a kid who looked rather sad; him being huddled near the entrance. A trice or two after attending a glace at the boy and looking at him, about to speak something to him, the ginger perked up upon quickly shifting to an aware state of their audience. Yup, it’s Soren.

The boy with a scarf stood up, swiftly rushing over to his pale-skinned friend and the rest of the group by default, “Ivor!” Soren sort of cut Ivor off–his purple-eyed comrade was about to speak before Soren confusedly asked a valid question, “Ivor, how did you…”

“I saved him,” Gabriel spoke up, “I saw you running away and tried to ask you what happened but you didn’t stop.”

Soren underwent a heavy wave of guilt collapsing onto him. Drowning him. If Gabriel didn’t happen to be in proximity, Ivor would’ve…he would’ve...he would’ve been gone. Be dead. Can’t see him. Can’t have interactions with him. Out of his life. Permanently. Because of him, “Ivor, I am so sorry…”  

“S-Soren…?!” Ivor noticed Soren’s tremble in his voice, “That…” Ivor didn’t know what he wanted to say, “Soren, that doesn’t matter anymore,” He quickly reassured.

Soren let out a weak laugh, acting as a coping mechanism, “I just froze up…I was so scared,” Soren’s voice hushed, “I wanted to help you, Ivor…I really did…”

“It’s alright, Soren. I’m fine. That’s all that matters now,” Ivor returned, trying to shift the topic to something a bit more light-hearted, “Besides…It’s thanks to Gabriel that I’m even still here,” Soren recognized that Ivor was desperately trying to exchange the subject–he appreciated how his purple-eyed friend allowed him to move on from his more notorious moment. Soren briefly sighed, and turned to Gabriel, happily greeting;

“So…I take it that you’re Gabriel then! Thank you for rescuing my friend!”

“It’s no problem,” Gabriel replied with a shaking his head with a satisfied smile. It was comforting. Although that didn’t last for too long because he suddenly turned to his other two friends with a more serious glare;

“And Magnus, tell me, why in the world did you think it’d be a good idea to send these two off alone!?”

“I tried to tell him, Gabe!” Ellegaard informed, a tone, “I really did!”

“Hmph…” Magnus turned away, a bit angry though he tried to sound genuine, “Sorry that I almost got you killed, Ivor.”

“Um…” Ivor replied, also trying to sound sincere in his response, “That’s alright.”

Ellegaard looked up to the sky’s shade because she unnoticedly wandered to the surface, a hand pressed against a wall of the cave entrance, “It’s almost morning. We should head back or else we’re going be in trouble.”

“We all should hang out sometime again,” Soren suggested, “We don’t have to explore or do anything all that exciting. Summer is merely for being inactive, so let’s just have a lethargic day…!”

Magnus agreed, “I’m down with that.”

“Yeah,” Ellegaard accepted,” No reason not to.”

Gabriel positively replied, “Mm-hm!”

Ivor added, “I, for one, am a bit adventured out for one day, so relaxing would be nice…I guess.”

“So it’s settled!” Soren loudly exclaimed, “We’ll all get together sometime and simply play!”

- - -

The four other children vocalized various remarks, not necessarily walking away immediately after; they were still having too much fun. As the sun proceeds to an apparent position, it lets out a flame-bright incandesce, a more dramatic sign-off. The gleaming star equalled the–quite literally–breathtaking day with an attention-grabbing spark. After all, lives had been endangered that day. Soren and Ivor were essentially peer-pressured into coming along with their new friends into the open-end hollow. In fact, the actual adventure itself was terrifying. Horrifying. Petrifying. Though Soren and Ivor both had a disastrous time, it was a matter of “then again.” After all, at least Soren and Ivor wouldn’t easily forget their first, genuine cave-adventure experience…or “caving” as some termed them as. Well. I mean…It would be remembered via a notorious memory. That doesn’t matter now. In a reasonable desire, they plainly yearned to relax and take a bit of a break from any sort of life-risking adventure. Besides, death-frightening occurrence or not, Ivor and Soren’s new friend of “Gabriel” did seem to be rather likeable. I mean, anybody who saves someone’s life can seem to be rather likeable. Furthermore, the elements of the current day were actually rather peaceful at that particular, specific moment and whether some of the children would admit the fact which was shared between each and every member of their small group of misfits or not:

They were friends 

For now, at least.

[pilot-boi]

Fall For Me: Chapter One

Has Jaune ever really talked about what happened the night of the Fall? Well maybe not, but he's decided the universe thinks it's time for a fall of his own.

Now if he could try not to lose everything this time, that would be fantastic.

(I dunno, this just sort of came to me. There's a dragon for reasons. And those reasons are that dragons are cool.)

The Jump

He remembered Falling. He remembered the light. And then darkness. Not this light, not this darkness, but the difference was suddenly so very, very small…

AO3 LINK

Don’t worry about it.

The grappled shivered and whined under Jaune’s fingertips as he steadied his extended arm again, blinking sweat out of his eyes. He felt the far end of the line snap into place near the top of his second pillar and tugged at it carefully. It seemed solid enough, although the occasionally dubious reliability of Atlas’s hastier designs was another thing not to think about. 

But these seemed to work, so that was a relief at least.

He glanced over to where Oscar was standing guard, legs apart and staff in hand, glaring out across the plain with a look of freckled determination. So far, there hadn’t been man Grimm heading their way. Yet. 

They had both seen the change in the movements of the dark figures when the first pillars had blown, as the howls of unearthly fury increased in response, but most of the activity seemed to be further away, back towards the mountainous end of the plain.

Exactly what was going on over there was… well, it was yet another thing not to think about. Jaune shook his head, as if that would push aside the shards of broken thought that snapped and stabbed across his mind, or the way his heartbeat was keeping a dread rhythm in his chest.

“You doing alright, buddy?” Oscar glanced back and the concern in his eyes felt like a punch. Jaune nodded, turning away so the boy wouldn’t see his expression. This meant he was staring down over the edge of the cliff, and he had to bite down on a fresh surge of nausea.

The canyon here was wider than below their first pillar and more uneven, as if something had torn its way up through the sheets of blackish stone from underneath, leaving a gaping wound in the rock surface, with the pillar hanging in its center like a last failed suture. 

Broken ledges and splintered layers stuck out from the walls, giving the plunge into oblivion a twin pair of ragged edges. Jaune looked back up quickly, fixing his wavering attention back to the spinning brilliance above.

Right. No chickening out now.

He hit the grapple mechanism again, bracing himself for the lurch that came as the gears bit down, and it yanked him forward and upwards, shooting across the inverted sky like a very guided sort of comet. He brought his legs up, getting ready to cushion his impact against the vertical obsidian ahead.

The second roar hit when he was halfway across. This was a new sound. It still boiled with the terrible fury of before, the wounded malevolence that had poured out of every sliver of this world in a poisoned sonic tide. But this one had a new edge to it, something altogether much worse. It held triumph.

Jaune twitched, a violent shiver that wrenched him hard against his airborne pose, and rammed his gloved fingertips back into the unfortunately sensitive grapple control. Gears screeched, choking out an acrid metallic smoke as the little machine clamped to an abrupt halt, sending him jerking to and fro with aborted momentum.

As he tried to steady the swaying, as the horrible sound twisted fresh coils of whispering darkness into his mind, he turned, and he saw the dragon coming back.

Don’t worry-

The sound bore down like a tidal surge, spilling out ahead of the oncoming nightmare, and Jaune froze. He had to move, had to move, as the huge shape dove towards him, its wings scything out like their own horizon. But all he could do was clamp down, tightening his fingers around the grapple line until his gloves creaked.

Breath curdled in his throat, then broke apart in wordless yelp of disbelief as the dragon suddenly swung upwards, letting out a fresh howl. And this time there was something like pain in the sound.

Jaune saw the smaller form, highlighted against the vicious violet sparks that sprang from the creature’s skin as Ruby shot across its back and down along the jagged spine. The reaper twisted this way and that as the titanic shape rolled beneath her, dragging the flame bright blade of Crescent Rose between the scales. 

Dark clouds boiled up into the air as the dragon swiveled, snapping back at the assaulting figure, and the spinning battle was so close that Jaune could see each movement with horrible clarity.

Then the crystal above him erupted in howling brilliance, and Jaune couldn’t hold back a scream. He ducked down between his own arms as the spiraling beam thundered out overhead. 

Close, so close, why was he so close?! Oh gods above.

It lit up a new corona of purple fractals that snaked across the dragon’s chest, following the marks of Ruby’s frantic slices, and the oil-slick flesh drew closed beneath the too-bright beam.

Spillover magic sent freezing, electric prickles scattering across Jaune’s exposed skin, clawing at him with a much less benign effect than it had for the roaring monster overhead. He gritted his teeth, trying to focus on the pain there, the real pain. But memory was swarming around him.

It surrounded him like blackened flies, and the now of it was so hard to find. The endless, hungry fall of that red-black oil beneath him seemed to drag down against him, pulling at the tiny grapple that shook and shivered on his arm. It would be so easy to fall, so easy, with the screaming incandescence blazing out overhead and oblivion reaching up to claim him back.

He remembered the light. And then darkness. Not this light, not this darkness, but the difference was suddenly so very, very small…

And then the bright beam winked out, the dragon swept past above him, and the bottom dropped out of Jaune’s tentatively hanging world as the creature’s barbed tail sliced through his line like it was little more than string. He held on tight, more through terrified instinct than any actual plan.

As the alien gravity tightened its fingers in his stomach, there were several long horrible moments of swinging weightlessness. Then he slammed into the side of the pillar with like a pendulum on a clock and he tried desperately not to throw up. Motion sickness was terrible at the best of times, and this wasn’t even close to the best of anything.

He was running out of time. The thought spun in his mind, whirling up every other attempt at coherence into its ever tightening embrace. The knight tried to feel the grapple under his shaking fingers and untangle the fragment of him that was still in the present.

Focus. Focus.

Painfully slowly, Jaune managed to raise his head up and force his eyes open, squinting up into the ominous brilliance above him. He was barely a few feet below the top of the pillar, which did make sense, when he could push aside panic long enough to think about it. 

The grapple was making a strange whining noise against his arm, and the line was quivering in a way it hadn’t done before. But his grip was reasonable enough and he began to haul himself upwards.

One hand after another. If he didn’t allow anything else to exist, if he filled the whole of every second side to side with the inching repetition of climbing-

-if I lose everything-

-Then it wasn’t so bad. One step at a time. A they’d always done, when everything had seemed at its worst. Just one step at a time.

His fingers grazed the clear space on top of the pillar, just as the grapple mechanism gave a high pitched scraping sound, accompanied by the scent of burning metal, and he felt the grip of it start to give.  Jaune lunged, pinning the line tight between his feet as he thrust himself upwards.

Jaune managed to get a hand clamped fully into place on the lip of the pillar before the metal teeth of the device failed entirely, falling slack against him and blood screamed in his ears. He was suddenly, silently, immensely thankful for the augmented attributes his Semblance would provide in moments of crisis. 

It strengthened his hold as his extended arm shook madly, almost in time to the slam of his heartbeat. One hand’s grip away from falling.

Breath, Jaune. Oh boy...

His entire world seemed to have narrowed down to the pressure on his left wrist, and it took a remarkable effort to figure out where his other arm was. Hanging loose at his side, with the limp thread of the wire still gripped in his shaking fingers. And it took even longer to remember how to move it.

Come on man. Up you get.

He’d done worse than this. Much worse than this. Maybe not over the infernal bloody goop of the Grimmlands, but over enough icy cold water that it might as well count. Clutching Nora’s equally battered form against him, stumbling as they kept each other upright and the ground had buckled and cracked underneath them.

Or leaping from one precarious footing to another in the crumbling ruins of Beacon Initiation. With his heart in his mouth, and the dreadful depth beneath yawning its invitation.

Or clinging to fraying rope in a cursed storm, hauling his own half frozen body up the degrading rigging as Weiss shouted frantic instructions at him. Her words whipped away in an instant by the hungry winds, never to reach his ears.

In comparison, hanging by one hand from a glassy pillar, over an endless drop into literally evil primordial soup was… Well, certainly not better, but at least on some kind of horrible par. Jaune gritted his teeth and swung up, grasping desperately at air until he managed to get another point of purchase on the polished stone.

His shoulders were screaming beneath his armor but, accompanied by his own muttered litany of curses, he eventually managed to pull himself up. He lay flat for a moment, precarious still on the edge, as the slice and shimmer of the spinning crystals whirled by a few feet from his head.

Okay. Okay.

The bomb was gone. His fingers scraped at the empty space at his belt, but the awkward wedging of the explosive device hadn’t survived the last flailing moments. After a few false starts, he managed to pull himself upright.

Body shivering with tension as he tried to keep his footing against the slick stone surface beneath, he looked up through the glowing haze, very pointedly not looking down into the vertigo inducing drop just behind him. Even in the strange over magnification of this place, it was difficult to make out exactly what was happening in the battle overhead anymore. 

But the bright slices of impact came again and again, behind the shadows of twisting wings.

Ruby was fighting it. Jaune reached up, jamming his fingers into his scalp and tugged at his hair until the roots stung. Memories skipped and broke open around him. Suddenly so close, so real, and he tried not to be sick again. What kind of plan was this? Ruby was fighting it now, and the sword at Jaune’s side seemed to be pulling against him, echoing a strange hollow itch down into his fingers.

The bomb was gone. He’d failed. They were out of time, and it was his fault. Again.

If he had only been faster. If he hadn’t spent so freaking long worrying. Always worrying, and what was the point of that, the point of him? He was always just too slow, and people always died.

“I’m sorry-!”

An old cry, cut off abruptly by his own whimper as the crystals flared again, hurling another dazzling spiral beam up towards the battling shapes, and nearly taking his balance entirely. He could feel his Aura straining as he had to lean into the wind of it, angry magic spillover biting into his skin, scattering his breaking thoughts.

What now, little knight? What do you have left?

The sword was so heavy at his side. He was only dimly aware of himself reaching round, of his fingers tightening into their long-habitual grip, as the world began to fade away around him. Leaving nothing but that screaming, searing pillar of twisted brilliance, inches from his face. His cheeks were wet, but right now he couldn’t remember why.

I’m sorry, guys. This was the best I could do.

Jaune swung his sword.

And there was light.

[casualneonglitterpainterposts]

This is the sequel drawing/ idea to my previous one- " Please don't come any closer".

The story/ Idea behind this one: “Who's hotter now, Huh?...”

After accidentally finding out about her red-headed BF's hot biker side and being tortured by him where he did nothing but be  cheekily flirtatious with her, causing her to fall over, cover her face and squirm, Livian decided to get him back in the only way she knew how, hehehe... So she set off and began to sketch and design out her own biker/ gangster inspired outfit that she'd make all by herself, wear and then flirtatiously get him back. She sat their at her desk for quite some time designing, but with the company of her cute fluff ball Toto, she took a quick break. Then an hour later she had finally finished her outfit design- so Livian went down the halls from her room to her and her father's dress making room. She ran around the room grabbing all the materials she needed, then set off sewing her little heart out to make her biker/gangster inspired outfit. Livian spent the last two to three days working on her outfit, she had worked on it to the point she nearly used up all her energy- but luckily Barb was there to make sure Livian remembered to recharge her energy supply. On the third day, early in afternoon, she had finally finished her outfit. Now all she needed to do was call up her cheeky red-headed BF and organise a place where they could meet up. Now back in her room sitting on her bed and recharging her energy, Livian called up Daichi.. "RING/ RING"... Daichi (on the other end of the phone): "Hey Livy what's up?" Livian: "Nothing much. I was just wondering if you would like to meet up tonight. You know, up at our special place?" Daichi: "Of course, I love spending time with you my princess". Livian (sitting there smiling): "Alright then, see you later then". and with that she hung up the phone, sat there with Toto and finished recharging her energy supply. That evening Livian spent a little bit of time getting herself ready- she put on her newly made outfit she design, polished and pulled on her purple boots and threw on a bit of turquoise face paint .She then went down stairs with a smile to show her parents her new outfit. Livian entered the living room and displayed her outfit to her mother, father and Barb. Livian: "So Mum, Dad, Barb. What do you think of my outfit and new look?" Seiichi (Smiling): " Oh honey, you look like such a badass. You go and rock that awesome outfit of yours". Tetsuzan: " Aww Livy dear, you're such a precious little gem. Your mother is right you make a very beautiful and loveable badass". Livian (sincerely smiling back): "Thanks mum, thanks dad". They stood up and hugged their beautiful robotic daughter. Then Livy turned around to Barb.. Barb (smiling): "Oh Livian dear you're so beautiful, now you be safe and go have fun with that boyfriend of yours". Livian (slightly blushing): "Ok Barb, I will. Alright, see you later everyone". Mr/ Mrs. Shimohira: "Goodbye Livian dear, see you later". She smiled back towards them and then went out the front door. As she left the house and went down the stairs, she quickly transformed into her battle form, using her speed skating abilities, she skated off in a flash of light down to her and Daichi's special spot. Already their and awaiting at their special spot up in the hiking range, Daichi stood leaning against an old rock awaiting his "princess" to arrive. Two minutes later, Livian arrived. She didn't want to go up to him, she didn't want Daichi to know she was here yet. So she hid behind a large dirt mound, where she transformed back into her human form in which she was wearing her new outfit she'd made. Poking her head out to the side of the mound, she spied on Daichi for a bit, When he turned his head the other way- Livian quickly snuck out from behind the mound and crept up and over to him- that was an advantage for her since she's the fastest robot around ^^ Still without knowing she was there yet, Livian now stood in the open, at least five feet apart from him. Then with such a devious and cheeky smirk on her face, Livian spoke: Livian (In a flirty tone): "Hey here handsome, sorry to have kept you waiting". Daichi's ears perked up and a smile crossed his face when he heard her voice. Daichi (as he turned his head towards Livian): "Well, well, it's nice to see you too my....." He went dead silent, his eyes were opened wide and his face blushing rose red quite hard when he saw what his "princess" was wearing. Daichi (Now completely red and stuttering): "O-oh my gosh.. Um y-you look different Livy.." Smirking deviously a little more, she got closer and closer to him, he moved away from the rock he was leaning on and walked backwards slowly. Livian (being very cheeky and flirtatious): "What's the matter Daichi, I thought you liked bad girls like me." Not being cautious of where he was going backwards, Daichi now leant up against the tree behind him. Livian had Daichi pinned to it and right where she wanted him . She got right up, close and personal- only a few millimetres away from his face now. With the biggest and cheekiest smirk on her face, she spoke once more: Livian: "So Daichi, who's hotter now, Hmm?" Daichi (covering his red face and mumbling and squirming): " Y-you are my princess". Livian then backed away from  him, she watched him squirm. As she did, Livian began to giggle a little, she loved seeing her handsome red-headed BF squirm like she would. Her giggling got a bit louder, Daichi could hear her. He moved his hands away from his eyes a little to see his princess giggling herself away at him. Livian (Still giggling): "Hehehe, you're so cute when you're squirming like that Daichi". He had moved his hands from his face completely, his face went back to a neutral warm honey glow and he moved away from the tree. He walked over to his princess too busy giggling away at him. He now stood very close to her. With the biggest smirk carved upon his face, he then gently grabbed his giggly "princess" by the waist, pulling her in closer towards his body. Livian stopped giggling and all of a sudden her face was hit with a hot flush of red- she was blushing really hard and completely freaking out on the inside. Daichi, still with that smirk carved upon his face and only a few millimetres from Livian's face, softly spoke: Daichi: "So you like to watch me squirm huh?, Well you know what I like watching?.. Livian (still ever so red) shook her head stuttering: "N-No?..." Daichi: "I like watching you squirm too" He then leant forward passionately kissing his "princess” on the lips- oh how soft hers were pressed up against his. The tables had turned on Livian again, she was now beet red and the one covering her embarrassed face. He stood there with such a sweet sincere smile, watching his princess squirm. Seeing her like this always brought a warm and loving feeling that touched his heart. A moment later Livian uncovered her face to see how happy Daichi was. Seeing him like this made her face glow all happy and rosy. He then grabbed his princess by the hand.. Daichi: "Come Livy, let me take you for a ride". Livian (sincerely smiling and happy blushing) :"Oh ,um.. ok Daichi". He held her gently by the hand and took her over to his hover bike. He jumped onto his bike, then turned back to Livian: Daichi: "Hop on Livy and hold on tight" She smiled and hopped on, wrapping her arms around his waist. Daichi (smirking): "So where do you wanna go my princess?" Livian (Smiling): "Why don't you surprise me?" Daichi (sincerely smiling back): "Alright then beautiful, let's go". They rode off into the night, Livian closed her eyes, smiling, resting her head against his back as she held on tight to his waist. Daichi could feel her warmth against him, he sincerely smiled, blushing a little and keeping his focus on the road ahead. He enjoyed every minute he got to spend with his beautiful badass princess. That's all I have for this story/ idea. hope you like it ^^ In the drawing I just love how smug and flirty Livian is teasing her red-headed BF Anyways, This was fun to draw and write, I really hope you like it too- I love doing all this cute fluff between Livian and Daichi/Atlas   2003 Livian design belongs to me ^U^

[zombiesbecrazy]

harder and harder to breathe

Summary:  The rock hit the ground and instead of just landing normally like it should, it disintegrated into a puff of dust, filling the air and swirling around. Brown and tan and green dirt particles surround them for mere seconds before everything settled down again back into the cave floor.

AO3

“How do you clean your suit?” Clark asked casually has he carefully navigated the narrow pathway. Deep in some caves of Kentucky, the trail was threatening to give way at any wrong step, and sure, he could fly, but Clark was going to try and avoid it if possible because no one wanted an accidental cave in. “Nothing sticks to my cape so I don’t have to worry about that. I toss my suit in the washing machine with the brights, but you can’t do that with the armor or tech. Do you polish it?”

The trail that they had been following down the path, the glowing purple blood, had been spilling from the interdimensional worm beast that had slithered away, stopped suddenly and there was a hum in the air that Clark always seemed to hear after a portal had been opened.

The creature had jumped dimensions again, for the third time that they knew of this week. Maybe it would stay away now that it had been injured. Probably not though. It would probably be mad and bring back some friends for revenge.

He hoped it wouldn’t happen on Wednesday; he and Lois had dinner reservations that he didn’t want to miss.

“Why are you so interested in how my suit is maintained?” Bruce was busy inspecting where the blood had stopped, filtering through the spectrum lenses in his cowl in attempt to verify that the creature had indeed left and not done something else like turn invisible.

“I don’t know. It was a long walk and I think about a lot of things.” Bruce pointed at a large rock and Clark picked it up for him so that he could examine underneath, looking for any evidence that could help. “Alfred has to be polishing it for you. You smell like lemon pledge.”

Bruce didn’t rise to the barb, not that Clark really expected him to when he’s in full detective mode, and he started to collect samples of the blood instead, to go with all of the other samples of the blood that he already has back in his lab.

The rock that Clark had in his arms felt oddly heavy which didn't make any sense in the world, but he continued to hold it while Bruce worked underneath it, scraping some clay into a tube, getting air readings off his gauntlet. Typical protocols were being followed until the heavy rock starts to feel itchy, which is even stranger because its just a rock and he’s Superman and the only things that make him feel itchy are coarse wool blankets and this is definitely a worse itch than those ever were. The itching suddenly turned into a sharp pain and then the only thing that registered was that there was no way that Clark could hold onto this innocuous rock for any longer.

“Batman, move,” Clark grunted, feeling the rock begin to slip.

Bruce had no context as to what the problem is, but knows when Clark tells him to move he should immediately listen, so he shoulder rolls off to the side just as Clark drops the rock from his grasp, hands twitching like he’s been burned but the discomfort not receding once the contact was lost.

The rock hit the ground and instead of just landing normally like it should, it disintegrated into a puff of dust, filling the air and swirling around. Brown and tan and green dirt particles surround them for mere seconds before everything settled down again back into the cave floor.

“That was highly inconvenient,” mutters Bruce and Clark starts to apologize for the rock, for ruining the evidence, but as soon as he opens his mouth he finds that he can’t say any of those things. Instead, he coughs. At least he thinks he’s coughing; he’s never really had to cough before so he’s not sure if he’s doing it right. Does he even have a diaphragm? Out of all his millions of thoughts, he’s never thought to check that.

Whatever is happening to him, it burns deep in his chest, trickling up his throat and in his mouth and nose and he coughs again, harder, but instead of getting better, getting in more oxygen, he feels worse and there is less air than there was before. Not enough air.

“Bat-” he coughs harder, hand covering his mouth and he can taste the blood in his mouth, all copper and iron, before he can see it. “Bruce. Can’t.. Breathe.” Suddenly he’s on his hands and knees, panting but getting nowhere near enough air in. Is this what suffocating felt like? “I..” He’s coughing more now, uncontrollable and relentlessly, and this time he’s seeing the blood hit the dirt, with some microscopic glowing green particles in it.

Green is bad. Clark is able to process that much. For everyone else green is good but not for him. He’s dying because randomly stumbled across the one random thing that can kill him in a random cave and it wasn’t even for a good reason.

He was now certain that this was what hyperventilating felt like and the panic that went along with it.

He’s aware enough to feel that Bruce is readjusting him into a sitting position and talking to him, trying to get him to focus, but it’s so hard to do without air. “Look at me. Pay attention.” Bruce’s voice was firm and commanding and Clark forced himself to look at him, coughing and wheezing loudly as he managed to suck in the barest amount of air possible with the maximum amount of effort. Bruce kept eye contact, but was pulling something out of his belt as he did so, prepping whatever miracle cure he hopefully had stored on him. “You inhaled kryponite. I have an idea. I don’t know if it is going to work but it won’t kill you.” Before Clark could react in any way to that information, Bruce jabbed a needle into his thigh and held it in place and he kept his other hand on Clark’s pulse. “Probably.”

“What?” Clark managed to choke out as Bruce tossed the needle aside and then grabbed onto Clark’s hand, and didn’t make a sound as Clark squeezed it as tight as he could, which probably wasn’t very strong if he was choking to death on space dust.

“You’re an alien, Kal. I have no way to predict how you’ll react to human medication that you've never had before.”

“That feels prejudiced,” whispered Clark, words halted and breathy but they were audible enough, “against the differently specied.” Bruce grunted, but other than monitoring his symptoms with narrow eyes ignored Clark. The pressure was lessening in his chest, but very slowly and only just a little bit, and the feeling of imminent doom lingered in his brain. Clark sucked in a shaky breath, deeper than he had been able to for minutes but that just made him cough again, doubled over with effort, more blood and green particles with each bark. As the fit subsided, he felt Bruce rubbing his back in small circles with a fair amount of pressure. Clark thought it might be helping or it was at least fooling his brain enough into thinking it was helping. Either way, it felt good, like when Ma had comforted him after a nightmare as a kid or when he was curled up with Lois after a long and grinding day. “What was that?”

“Epi-pen,” said Bruce, voice tight in a way that Clark only heard when someone Bruce cared about was hurt. “Luckily the kryptonite made your skin malleable enough to pierce. I suspect it’s a temporary solution though.” Bruce’s lips were pressed firmly together in a grim way. “Let’s get you up into the sun. Hopefully it will work out of your system faster that way.”

Clark didn’t have it in him to argue about the sun not being a miracle drug but there was a part of his brain telling him that he had to at least get away from the debris of the seemingly normal looking rock that had exploded into Clark’s own personal death trap, so instead he struggled to his feet and let Bruce wrap one of Clark’s arms around his shoulders for support. They made slow work of weaving their way back through the caves, Clark less concerned about where he put his feet this time, but becoming more aware that with each step he took it was becoming more difficult to breathe again. He was farther away from the rocks, but he still must have some inside his lungs. “Why did you have an epi-pen?”

“I always have two in my belt. They are good in medical emergencies.” Bruce huffed a bit through his nose. “And Tim’s allergic to bee stings.”

“Good thing,” said Clark, before coughing again. “Not that Tim’s got a bee allergy. That you had the shot.” They stumbled along for a few more minutes before Clark had to stop for a moment to try and catch his breath, but he couldn’t help but notice that he was getting harder again. "How far down are we?"

"About a kilometer." Normally Clark would rib him for using the metric system but he just nodded and Bruce picked on on it instantly and tightened his arm around Clark's waist. "Why?"

Clark shook his head and starting to walk again, careful of his footfalls because if he fell down he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get back up. He was concentrating on the tightness in his chest, and the way it felt like it was itching on the inside, just like he had originally felt it in his hands before things had turned south. "I think the shot is starting to wear off," he mumbled. Part of him wondered if the symptoms were more in his head and just thinking about them made it worse. "Anaphylaxis symptoms can be psychosomatic though."

"Not really." Bruce didn’t laugh, but Clark could at least pretend that he was a little amused by Clark’s effort to fake away his symptoms. "I have another pen but don't want to use it unless it's a last resort. There was an opening in the cave just up ahead, a natural opening halfway up the gorge. This time of day there should be sunlight.” Clark coughed again and Bruce shot him a concerned look as he sucked in a pitiful breath. “Conserve your air."

"Pretty sure it doesn't work like that." His airways were closing, no amount of holding his breath could stop that.

“Shush.” Bruce said, and then had to pull tight because Clark stumbled over his own feet, threatening to trip to the ground. "You can lean on me more. I've got you."

Clark knew that. Bruce always had him.

It felt like an eternity before they reached the opening that faced the gorge and Clark was close to not being able to breathe again, gasping between coughing up blood and little bits of devil green rock. He fell onto all fours at the ledge of the gorge, afternoon sun beaming down on him, feeling like he was hacking up a lung as Bruce rather forcefully pounded his fist on Clark’s back, in an attempt to get the rock out.

Clark was on the brink of passing out, darkness closing in on the edge of his vision and he knew that Bruce was seconds away from giving him the second shot when suddenly the pain and itching in his chest vanished, a last forceful cough with a small glimmer of green was expelled and Clark rolled over and collapsed on his back, exhausted, but enthusiastically able to breathe again and feeling better by the second, chest heaving with the ability to breathe again.

It was out. It was finally all out and he could breathe and it was amazing. Oxygen had never tasted so good.

He cracked an eye open and saw Bruce studying him, epi-pen rolling between his fingers in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. “I think that was it,” Clark said, reaching towards the bottle. He took a big drink before handing it back. “Gosh, what were the odds of finding a rock made of dust sized kryptonite particles in a random cave in Kentucky?

“Was that hypothetical or do you want the math?” Bruce casually brushed the tainted blood that Clark had choked up over the edge, keeping a careful eye on him.

“Hypothetical. I can do my own math.” He rested his hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding with enthusiastic thumps. “Later. After more breathing.”

“Rest. Recover.” Bruce sat further back and leaned against the wall of the cave in the shadows. “Lay in the sunbeam like a cat.”

Clark meant to argue back, he really did, but the sun was just so nice and he just felt so exhausted and suddenly he was waking up before he had even realized he was asleep. The sun was slowly setting in the distance, making the sky pink and orange. He sat up and stretched, feeling pretty good for someone who took an unscheduled nap on the floor of a cave, only to see Bruce smirking at him like the smug jerk that he was.

“Just because I fell asleep doesn’t make you right, you know,” said Clark, only now noticing that there had been a big black cape under his head during his impromptu nap. "I'm not a house plant that just perks up in the sun."

"You are. One day I'm going to prove that your cells have photosynthetic properties. I'm going to recruit Ivy to help if needed."

Of course Bruce would use his resources to try and prove his theory, no matter who it was. "Absolutely not. I don't want Ivy, or before you get any other ideas, Swamp Thing, having any reason to think that I'm part of the Green.” Maybe Bruce was right about the sun but Clark wasn’t going to tell him that and he certainly wasn’t going to let a sometimes evil botanist conduct experiments on him just to win an argument. “Thanks for saving me. I owe you one.”

“We owe each other several. I’ve pulled ahead for now though.” Bruce stood, and Clark had to hide a wince as he heard Bruce’s bones creak from sitting for so long on the rock. "I should be apologizing. It was my fault. I asked you to lift it."

Clark gawked at him. "Are you serious right now? You had no way of knowing it was laced with kryptonite." Bruce frowned and had the face that he did when he was about to argue and Clark just shook his head and cut him off before he could start. "Bruce. Stop it. If you really want to blame yourself, fine, I forgive you, but just know that I don't really forgive you, because it wasn't your fault."

They stared at each other for a minute before Bruce nodded and looked away, obviously still brooding about it but moving on as if he wasn't. “Are you ready to head up? I still have to analyze those samples before the worm jumps back to this reality.”

“Sure.” Clark climbed to his feet and handed Bruce back his cape, and Clark watched with interest as it was reattached. “You know, you never answered my questions about the armor.”

Bruce shrugged. “Alfred looks after it.” He started to step forward before freezing and turning back to Clark. “I don’t really smell like lemon pledge, do I?”

“Of course not,” said Clark, but he gave Bruce a big, fake smile before stepping past him and leading the way to start heading upwards, hoping that the faint smell of lemons would follow close behind.

[evolutionsvoid]

The Lancejaw Manticore is a coastal member of the manticore family, its territory spread across seashores, estuaries and other ocean side environments. Of these habitats, it prefers those found in tropical climates, where warmth and water is always abundant. Though its home is always close to seawater, the Lancejaw is not an aquatic creature. It instead stalks the shorelines and surrounding areas, looking for potential prey. This does not mean, however, that the Lancejaw avoids the water. Unlike its brethren, this species is resilient to salinity, and can actually wade through the shallows without any ill effects. This also means they have a slight resistance to the salt deterrents that folks use to ward off other manticore species, which can be a problem! Anyways, the Lancejaw will go into shallow water to either catch aquatic prey or pursue fleeing food. It should come to no surprise that these manticores are predators, and deadly ones at that! Unlike the more common manticore, Lancejaws do not actually fire spines from their tail. Yes, this appendage is quite spiky and is indeed covered in paralyzing venom, but these spines are permanently attached. They have a much stronger base to them, thus making them a rather solid melee weapon. While these spikes cannot be launched or thrown, they can still be swung around and stabbed into vulnerable flesh. For long range combat, their weapon of choice is instead located near their face. If you remember from other manticore species, they possess a pair of facial tendrils that end in venomous barbs. For the Lancejaw, these have been highly modified into a completely different weapon. Instead of one permanent barb, these appendages instead grow many jagged spears that jut from the orifice. The growth of these lances is quite quick, but not nearly as fast as the tail barbs of a normal manticore. This means that their ammo does not refill as fast, so they need to be more accurate when hunting prey. They achieve this by using special organs that are found where the spears grow. When a Lancejaw is ready to attack, these organs will use a flexible tube to attach to the base of one of these lances. By inflating with air, it will build up pressure and use it to launch this single jagged blade. This shot is incredibly accurate, and it can go farther than a normal tail dart. Their accuracy and range can rival that of a crossbow, which is bad news for their prey! What makes things worse is that these spears are coated in the same paralytic venom, which quickly brings down targets. Those who are struck only have minutes to escape before they lose full control over their limbs. Even then, you will find flight quite difficult when your parts slowly shut down and become useless. And all the while, the Lancejaw will be patiently plodding behind you, waiting for you to inevitably drop. They know when a shot has connected, and they know they only have to wait for dinner to be served. Like mentioned above, Lancejaws hunt their prey by firing these paralyzing arrows at their prey. They will usually creep up to firing range and then attack when the time is right. This goes for both land and sea creatures! In shallow rivers, the Lancejaw will go after fish and other aquatic animals, firing into the water and then swallowing whatever floats up. As usual, the Lancejaw swallows its food whole, its flexible mouth and stomach allowing it to eat hefty meals! When engorged, it will slink to some warm sunny place to lie, slowly digesting its kill. Due to its limited ammo, Lancejaws appear more cautious and coordinated than other manticores. They know they only have a certain number of shots, and that they cannot afford to fire recklessly. This means they will take longer to strike, as they are lining up a shot. Even if they do run out, though, do not think they will give up. Their permanently spiny tail is their backup, and they can use it with lethal force. 

An interesting thing to note about their facial weaponry is that it seems to have developed to help them hunt in aquatic areas. The tail barbs of other manticores would fail to reach prey that was underwater, as they are not launched with enough speed or force. These special organs they have essentially allow them to go spear fishing! Another thing they help with is dealing with the Pedunkas that stalk the shores. These barnacles-encrusted Slimes are opportunistic scavengers, but they can compete with a Lancejaw for food. While other manticores would have a hard time penetrating thick slime, the Lancejaw has been shown to be capable of such a feat! Their spears can shoot through the pseudobody and pierce the heart, injuring or killing the Slime. This gives them the ability to ward off Pedunkas and keep them from stealing their kill. As a result, Pedunkas tend to avoid Lancejaw territory, and they will be hesitant to challenge one. For people who live on the coast, they like this idea. "Beaches with no Pedunka? What a dream (Is what they would say, not me)!" Unfortunately, this comes with them being smack dab in Lancejaw territory, which leads to obvious problems.   Like their brethren, Lancejaws are incredibly dangerous and are widely feared. Anything they can swallow is seen as prey, and they won't pass up a chance for a meal. Their territory is given a wide berth, and many avoid the shores when a Lancejaw is on the prowl. Despite their deadly abilities and carnivorous diet, Lancejaws also have a bit of popularity. It appears that they have developed as symbols of wealth and power, due to their striking colors, gorgeous shells and sharp cunning. What further cements this is how valuable their parts and pieces are. The shelled parts of a Lancejaw fetch a tidy sum, as their pearly sheen and vibrant coloration makes them instant art. People can carve them into jewelry or breathtaking sculptures, while some just mount the polished piece as a whole and call it good. Every bit of shell is valuable, but their headshell is the most desired part. Its size, complexity and ornateness make it a must-have for any collector or wealthy show-off. The other thing that makes them so valuable is their fragility. Due to their aggressive lifestyle, Lancejaws will often break off the long thorny spine that grows off their headshell. This part will grow back over time, but it won't look nearly as good as the original. Thus, people go crazy over intact headshells, as they are incredibly rare and incredibly difficult to obtain. If you can somehow find a Lancejaw with a flawless headpiece and then bring it down without damaging it, you will be drowned in gold for your efforts. Besides their shells, Lancejaws are also valued for their special mucus. Certain glands in their body create mucus that they use for marking territory and coating their mouths, and this fluid can be used to create a unique dye. The dye that comes from this lengthy process is a brilliant purple, one that is impossible to replicate and impossible to ignore. The shade it creates is unique and quite iconic, making it a color used by the wealthy and powerful. Due to its rarity and price, very few have access to this dye, especially since it means killing a Lancejaw to obtain it. I guess that is one of the things I appreciate about these beasts. While other poor creatures are overharvested to make fancy decorations for rich jerks, the Lancejaws are ones who fight back. And most of the time, they win. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ------------------------------------------- Another species of Manticore, because literally every monster needs different variations and forms! This critter was further down my posting line up, but I actually decided to post it now because Iceborne is being released tomorrow and I figured I would show something that was inspired by MHW. It probably would have been more fitting to do fanart, but I kind of suck at that, so I went with a creature design I thought up of while playing the game. This fellow was inspired by the Coral Highlands, and I think he would fit right in!

[sam-i-am-27]

Scraps

I got inspired by @fangirltothefullest ‘s Steampunk AU. Go check it out cause it’s awesome.

Thomas around at the small organized mess and sighed. 

Months ago, he, Joan and Talyn had stumbled across the burning remains of what appeared to be a joint human-automaton community that was only days old, all cleanup and rebuilding needs ignored by the government. Being the curious people they were, had decided to go searching through it for potentially yielding results. 

They had begun searching this area of the destruction and had surprisingly found quite a lot. A few mechanical legs, a few fingers that still twitched to rejoin their full bodies, and half of an automaton that had an intact but broken voice box stuck on repeat. He hated that they were selling parts of a once-living being, but to live, they had to do what they needed.

However, even after being polished, taken apart and oiled, none of it had sold for more than a few bits, scarcely more than what Thomas was paid already.

Joan had given up two days into searching after they had found a mostly-intact duffle bag chock full of notebooks and pencils. To them, that was rewarding enough.

Talyn had left simply because they saw no more reason to look when there seemed to be nothing left to find. They wanted to focus on their own life rather than this side-adventure.

But Thomas was determined to find something- anything that could help him succeed in this world. He knew it was probably pointless to keep looking, but he didn’t have anything more to lose if he did.

Thomas clambered over the stone, picking up a few pieces of aluminum and stuffing them into his bag. Once he found a leg that might have belonged to a dog next to a hand still holding a leather collar labeled ‘Poppy’. That he left, not wanting to disrupt the dead any more than he already was. He used an old piece of rebar to help him turn over pieces of metal that were still smoking or chunks of rusty barb wire that would have forced him to sell his house for medical care. It would have been beautiful without the orange-gray skies of smoke and a sense of death in the air.

He flipped his pack over his shoulder and began to count his earnings when something suddenly caught his eye. A mostly-intact house less than a mile from where he currently was. Sure, it was smoking a little bit, but there were four mostly clear walls and half a roof; most of the others in the area were missing the entire roof, so for this one to survive meant there must be something special about it. Maybe there were tools in there that he could use for work.

A smile crept across his face as he realized just how much Joan and Talyn were missing out now.

Thomas stopped in front of the door, using his metal stick to try and gently push it open only for it to completely fall over.

“Oops.”

“Hello?! Is someone there?!”

He froze, looking around for the voice. It had been male, slightly mechanic- most likely another broken android.

“Please?! Is anyone there?!” The same voice- somewhat cheery and hopeful, with a childlike innocence laced in the plea- but a different phrase. Whatever was there had an intact voice box, probably worth more than Thomas’ house.

“Yeah! I’m coming, don’t worry! Just keep talking!”

“Okay! Uh…”

“Need you to keep talking! You’re an automaton right?” Nothing in the kitchen.

“We are.” A different voice, very robotic for, well, a robot.

“Can you tell me what happened here?” No sign of life in the bedroom.

“Our maker abandoned us during the fire. We have been trapped here ever since.”

“I’m… sorry. I truly am.”

“Thank you for your sympathy, but it will not change anything. What has happened is in the past, and none of us can change that.”

Thomas turned a corner and saw a closed door with a chair jammed under the handle. He approached and knocked on the door.

“Are you in here?”

“Yes, we are. The chair is keeping us from leaving.”

“Easy fix.” He kicked the chair out of the way and opened the door. The sudden light sent the five beings inside of the room scrambling back, one of them sheltering them with his arms. Thomas didn’t move, taking in the sight before him.

The room was tiny, barely enough for one person, let alone five broken automatons.

The one closest to him had dark skin with curly red-brown hair and eyes just a little brighter. He wore a singed white tail-coat over a black, long-sleeved shirt with a high collar and puffy sleeves. His hands were covered with black leather gloves and he wore boots the same color with pants that were probably bought with the coat. He had retained all of his limbs but the left side of his face was slightly cracked and his mouth was moving, but producing a low grumble and occasional whine.

The ones behind him were in even worse shape than him.

The one wearing yellow and black with brown haired dyed yellow at the ends was missing the entire left side of his face, exposing the iris and inner workings to the world. His right leg had also been destroyed, leaving him lying in the heaps of one of the others. As Thomas observed him, he shot him an untrusting glare with his yellow-brown eye.

This one looked like the first voice belonged to him. He had large brown eyes with curly hair dyed blue at the ends and wore a pair of large round spectacles. His outfit was composed of what looked like a blue and gray sweatshirt, but it was mostly hidden by the brown mechanics apron around his neck, a red heart stamped onto the front and multiple tools spilling out of the pocket.

The other two to the left were a little better off.

The one looking at him seemed completely undamaged, other than the fact that his right arm was missing and many of his gears were showing (although Thomas was debating as to whether or not it was a design choice or damage). Similar to the previous, he wore rectangular glasses over his blue eyes and had black hair dyed dark blue at the tips. He had a simple blue and silver vest, the rest of his outfit composed of black clothing.

But the last automaton was what scared and excited Thomas the most.

This one was completely intact, no dents, no chips, no missing limbs, but he wasn’t moving, his purple eyes blank and unmoving. His brown-purple hair was dull from lack of sunlight and his patchwork clothing was frayed from time.

“Come on, let me help you,” Thomas said, holding out his hand.

“Why should we trust you?” the Half-Face hissed. “The last human we trusted left us to rot here. Are you a scavenger looking for parts?”

“Dylan,” the Mechanic scolded. “He’s offering help.”

“He’s a human, Patton! Humans can’t be trusted!” Dylan said.

“I am not going to harm you… yes, it is true that I am a scavenger, but I only take what I need! Scraps and such! I am not going to do anything to you,” Thomas promised softly.

The one with the broken voice box tapped the one missing his arm and then pointed to the shut down one. They exchanged a few hand gestures, engaging the others a few times before looking at Thomas. The one without an arm spoke first, his voice matching that of that had thanked him earlier. “Our friend here… he is an older model; he runs on a wind-up mechanism but the key was destroyed… Would you be able to help him?”

“With the right tools, of course, I could. I’m a horologist- I make clocks and most of those are also wind-up mechanisms. I will help him and all of you. I’ll find a way to make you... mostly mobile again, find a way to fix your voice box, as many things as I can.” 

The others looked at each other before Arm stood as much as he could in the small space. “Thank you. It means so much to us that you will help us. I am Logan. The one here,” he pointed to the Broken Voice, “is Roman. You know Patton and Dylan. Our friend here is Virgil…”

“It’s nice to meet you all. I’m Thomas. Now let’s get you out of this mess.”

[sixbelmontstreet]

spring arrival | mae, fleur, barb & mrs machenry (sfw)

Mae arrived at Pi Kappa Sigma on a warm spring morning. Purple crocuses peeked gingerly at the low sun, shaking off dew as they opened to the kiss of light. They unfurled slowly, buds turning to blooms to soak everything in. Mrs Mac marched up the steps and past the balustrade with great purpose, leaving her niece trailing quietly in her wake. Mrs Mac chatted about the house and its present inhabitants with affection and frustration by turns but it seemed good-natured, as it often was with her.

Mae smiled slightly, her brown leather suitcase in one hand, her coat and scarf draped over the other. 6 Belmont Street was grand in a mature, if slightly jaded way. It was made of brown stone with large windows and a small garden that stretched around it in a smartly-clipped square. There was a trellis criss-crossing up the wall towards some of the highest windows, which were small and dark and undoubtedly in the attic. The trellis was beginning to flourish too, with dark-green leaves and the faintest hint of honeysuckle emanating from delicate white flowers.

‘You’ll meet the girls very soon, I should expect,’ Mrs Mac said before tutting as she struggled to open the door. After a few attempts at rattling the brass knob, Mae’s aunt cursed and set her bags down. ‘Goddamn it, this needs fixed.’

Once the door had finally opened and Mrs Mac had staggered through it, they were inside. The interior of the house matched quite well with what was outside of it. It was rather dark and smelled of wood polish and smoke from the hearth in the sitting room. There were stairs that led up towards the dorm rooms on the first floor and the corridor leading to the left of the stairs seemed to follow towards the kitchen. Sounds of morning chatter came from it and the clanking of cutlery against plates and glasses being shifted on the countertop.

‘Girls,’ Mrs Mac called as she made her way towards the kitchen. Mae lingered in the hallway, looking around in demure silence. Her aunt looked back to her and smiled a slightly yellow smile. ‘Maeve, dear, hang up your coat and I’ll show you to your room in a moment.’

Mae nodded and did as she was told, hanging her red wool coat up by the loop at the collar on an already-full peg on the wall. Her aunt disappeared into the kitchen and she heard conversation. Excited voices along with her aunt’s slightly chiding but playful tone. The grandfather clock ticked steadily as it had done presumably for decades. Mae waited. She had not expected her aunt to reappear with two other girls; one slender and brunette with a cigarette hanging from her bottom lip, the other with a wild mass of waist-long blonde curls and a gentle expression. 

‘Now you two behave yourselves. This is Maeve, my niece. She’ll be rooming with Camille for the time being.’ Mrs Mac puffed out like a mother hen, lifting her chin proudly as the two girls at her back inspected Mae; the brunette with a pointed look and the blonde with gleeful anticipation.

‘She looks real sweet, Mrs Mac,’ said the brunette, huffing smoke out of her mouth. ‘Can’t wait to see her try to fit in around here with a face like that.’

‘Nice to meet you, Maeve!’ Chirped the blonde. She skipped over on light, bare feet and shook Mae’s hand.

‘You can call me Mae,’ she said quietly as was her way. She had never been loud, especially in a house of jostling voices and opinions constantly verging on an argument or a musical number.

The blonde was beautiful up-close. She was tall and her features were full of joy. Her skin held a slight tan despite the long and glacial winter that had been endured throughout the city and her cheeks were speckled with faint freckles that looked like flecks of russet paint and been haphazardly sprinkled across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She giggled. ‘Fleur,’ she said.

The brunette was less enthused and seemed droll and dry but not malicious. She turned on her heels and walked back to the kitchen. ‘Hey guys, Mrs Mac’s brought us a live one. Wait until the boys catch the scent!’

Mae’s aunt wheeled around, comically incensed at the suggestion. She rushed after the brunette to scold her and the kitchen erupted into giggles.

‘Don’t mind Barb,’ Fleur grinned, plucking Mae’s suitcase from her hands. ‘She’s trouble.’

The corners of Mae’s lips turned upwards in a sweet smile. ‘I don’t mind. I like trouble.’