#but base Talon lay in the dust

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

Adventures in Sunbathing

i wrote a lil something for hunters heart au. :D

The mists shrouded the woods as it did every morning. Like a cloud that had decided to take a nap on the forest floor. A few deer wandered from out of the brush before gracefully bounding away and disappearing almost like magic. Killer paid no mind to them as he lay stretched out on the flat top of a moss covered boulder. The sun felt nice as it cut through the mist. Though without skin Killer felt he wasn’t enjoying it to the fullest. He supposed there was a simple remedy for that. 

Killer sat up and removed his coat and stuffed it in his satchel. Nightmare would throw a fit if he ruined yet another article of clothing by careless shifting. Killer stretched as he felt his form change around him. Face lengthening into a snout, hands shifting into sharp talons, a pair of wings and a tail. He shook himself, snorting happily as his now sufficiently less skeletal form felt the light breeze and sunshine.

 Killer eagerly spread his wings trying to take full advantage of the warmth of the rays. Perhaps today would be warm enough to go swimming, wondered Killer. It had been even colder than usual the last couple days but it looked like it was finally warming back up. Though this place never really got “Warm”.  

Killers' ponderings were cut short by a voice coming from the base of the rock. “You enjoying the sunshine up there traitor?” Killer peered down from his perch to see a more grumpy than usual looking Dust. He simply snorted in reply. “I have to do dishes for a week now because of that stupid idea.” Killer grumbled as if to comment on how Dust was not forced to participate in said stupid idea and it was his own fault that such punishment befell him. To punctuate this Killer stuck his forked tongue out at the offending skeleton. 

“How dare you-” Dust shifted to his draconian form, cloak now more of a scarf to the now much larger and more dragon-like Dust. He leapt up with a flap of his translucent wings and promptly landed on top of Killer, who let out an indigent squawk at being used as a chair. 

The two began trying to push each other off the boulder in an attempt to claim it as their own. Thus starting an impromptu game of “king of the rock”. While Killer had the advantage of size Dust was rather hard to keep in one spot, even in such a small space. They would have been at it for hours, their draconic forms having more stamina then they could ever hope to achieve as skeletons, but a loud roar snapped them out of the game. 

A large red dragon was perched on a cliff not far off. Though larger than even Horror both Dust and Killer could spot the signs of youth in the reptilian features. The dragon's fiery orange eyes glared at the two false dragons below. Killer was about to screech right back at the ornery red lizard before Dust's wing came up and broke their eye contact. He began ushering Killer off the rock and into the woods. 

Once at a distance Killer gave an annoyed snort to dust. Dust simply shifted back to a skeleton, his transformation a little bit jerkier and sharper than before. Evidence of his anxious mood. “You know better than to try and do stuff like that.” Dust stated firmly.  Killer lashed his tail and crowed. “Don't give me that.” Dust growled back “that dragon was ready to roast your sorry scaleless hide to a crisp. Even if they were young their flame still burns just as bad and all the more likely to use it.” 

With a growl Killer lifted his wings and swept them down propelling himself high into the air. Why did that dragon have to come around and ruin his perfect morning. He needed to blow off some steam or he was likely to be miserable the rest of the day, dust could make it back on his own. Wheeling around Killer headed at a quick pace towards the towering rock pillars in the distance. The maze of towers would be the perfect challenge to distract him.  

Killer pounded his wings pushing himself ever faster over the tops of the tree’s. He reached the pillars in record time, something he would have been more proud of under other circumstances. He hovered in the air a moment savoring the feeling of freedom flying brought then folding his wings closed, and plummeting towards the earth. 

The wind whistled past his ears, and around his horns. Wings snapping open just in time to level out over the tree’s and zip into the rocky pillars at a breakneck speed. The thrill of expertly dodging the rapidly approaching stone towers quickly made Killer forget the encounter from earlier and bask in the pure adrenaline rush and excitement of his made up sport. 

Killer did several other runs through the rocks before noticing how much time had passed. It was nearly lunchtime and he had been gone since before breakfast- crap Horror would kill him. Diving off the pillar he was currently resting on Killer propelled himself towards the hidden cave his… nest? Gang? Tribe? lived. Killer never bothered thinking about it much to be honest, technicalities were never of much interest to him when they didn’t have a use he could think of.  

The massive stamina reserves were quite useful to Killer now as the towers were quite far from home and he had already used lots of energy. Horror was waiting by the entrance when he got back. As expected he did not look very happy, but he didn’t seem overly mad though which was a plus… 

“Ya missed lunch” he grumbled. Killer just shuffled his wings in discomfort. Horror’s expression seemed to soften much to Killer's surprise. “Dust told me what happend. Figured you’d be gone awhile so I saved you some.” Horror turned and walked towards the cave. “Go shift back and I’ll warm it up for you.” Killer happily scooped up the skeleton and flew upwards towards the entrance and crawled inside behind the outcropping that hid it.  

Once inside the massive entrance cavern he trotted around the large carved out fire pit in the center and towards his own cave. “Just try to not be late again. I’m only doing this because I know how you get when you're upset.” Horror shouted before Killer disappeared behind the curtain separating his cave from the rest of the cavern.  

Killer was back out in no time, now a skeleton again. Jogging the distance to the center of the main cavern. Horror handed him a warm bowl of venison stew. “Thanks Horror,” Killer said. The warm food was delicious. Perhaps this day won’t be that bad after all.

[midnightcreator12]

The Simple Joy of Rain

Very out of context story based on my DnD campaign.

Faust belongs to @charlie-charlie-yes-i-am-here

Enjoy!

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

Wren knew what rain was before she’d escaped the Westledge estate. 

She’d seen rain plenty of times, and even a child in her circumstance could puzzle together what rain was.

But she had always been separated from rain, behind a shield of intricate stained glass windows.

It hadn’t occurred to her until a year after settling in Dogwood Grove that the ‘design’ on her bedroom window had been iron bars made to mimic the windows everywhere else.

She could remember the first time she’d felt rain on her scales, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Because it had also been the day she’d stumbled in between the roots of an ancient tree and collapsed in exhaustion. It was also the day she had truly felt a kind touch, from warm and aged and callosed hands.

So Wren didn’t mind the rain. Hell, once she learned what an oncoming downpour smelled like in the air, she started growing excited to get absolutely drenched.

Which was why she watched the grumbling clouds roll closer and did nothing to take shelter.

Sticks wasn’t of the same mind, he’d quickly burrowed himself down as far as he could into Wren’s armor when he noticed the rumbling clouds, a warm and furry weight right at the base of Wren’s sternum.

And normally, she wouldn’t think about much else. She’d just slip her cloak and gloves and shin guards off and wait for the first chilly drops to start hitting her skin.

But she wasn’t alone this time.

Technically, she had four new companions but only one was currently not sleeping inside the inn.

She looked across the roof to where a mass of feathers and leather armor lay, ignorant of the low rumbles of thunder that were approaching.

Wren frowned, tilting her head. 

Surely he didn’t mind a little rain? He wouldn’t sleep outdoors if he did…

But she also knew most people did not enjoy the feeling of getting soaked. She’d gotten a fair share of odd looks from the occasional travels through Dogwood. The townspeople themselves had also pestered her to come inside from the rain for months until Bast told everyone to leave her be.

But Wren knew people would complain about their hair getting wet and it being difficult to dry afterward...

She imagined feathers were a bit like hair…

And Faust had a lot of feathers for moisture to get trapped on….

Well, Wren wasn’t planning to have her cloak on anyway.

Her foot claws barely made a sound as she picked up her cloak and made her way to Faust. It was one of the first things Bast had gifted her, the material breathable but study. It wasn’t fully waterproof but it did a fine job of keeping the worst of it at bay.

But her attempts to drape it over Faust without waking him up ended in vain, since a particularly loud clap of thunder shattered the night air at the same time she dropped the fabric over him.

Faust shot up, eyes wide as he looked around, wings puffing up as if preparing for take-off, “Wha- whe- who-?”

Wren felt the first drops of rain hit her head. She reached down and tugged the hood of the cloak over Faust, “It would appear that a storm has blown in.”

“Storm-?” Faust blinked hard, probably trying to orientate himself after the sudden wake-up call.

More water began to fall and Wren stepped back, relishing in the feeling of moisture sliding along her scales as the droplets came at greater quantity and speed.

Faust made an odd squawking sound as he finally processed that it was, in fact, raining. He scrabbled to his feet, talons fumbling with the green cloak, “I have a blanket! Why did you give me-? You’re gonna get soaked!”

“I don’t mind,” Wren hummed, tilting her head back so the rain could strike her face.

Dust, grit, and dried blood from days of traveling washed away, leaving pristine scales behind. Wren frowned a bit, lowering her gaze to look at her hands.

The scales were always clean. She hadn’t paid much mind to it before, she’d dismissed a lot of things as simple ‘dragonborn stuff that she just didn’t know and didn’t really need to know’. It was clearly a very normal dragonborn thing to feel the grime of days without a proper bath and not actually be able to see it well.

But now, knowing what she did? The uncanny cleanliness stood out to her, wormed into her head and hissed into her mind.

‘That isn’t you.’

“Hey?”

Faust’s voice made Wren look up.

He looked a bit damp but a blanket had joined her cloak in the mission of keeping him mostly dry. His beak was twisted into an odd expression, one that Wren couldn’t quite place.

He grinned a bit when she looked at him, “You, uh….like rain?”

Wren blinked.

Then huffed a small laugh, “Yes. It’s quite refreshing.”

Faust nodded very seriously, “Hmmm, yeah, yeah….do you….want company or…?

Wren huffed again, “You do not have to stay here if you’d prefer to join the others.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” Faust countered quickly.

Wren smiled now and gave a little shake, the motion causing water to spray off her in an almost halo, “I wouldn’t say no to company.”

Faust nodded, settling more comfortably as another boom of thunder disturbed the night.

Wren closed her eyes and listened to the sound build to its peak before fading again.

No, she was not quite herself yet. But hopefully, that hurdle would be rectified soon.

She wasn’t looking forward to returning to that manor…but she felt a little better about the looming walls and foreboding stained windows and uncanny paintings.

Because she wouldn’t be returning there alone.

[chinnakattachi]

The Best Korean Food In Uae

I’m currently working on a blog about my Korean culinary adventures. This is my first visit to an Abu Dhabi Korean restaurant (Taon Korean Restaurant). At Abu Dhabi’s Korean Restaurant, it was Relay Wonder full time. They Pursue True Korean Cuisine. The SOFITEL ABU DHABI CORNICHE is home to the restaurant. This is a five-star luxury hotel where I had the opportunity to dine in a Korean BBQ restaurant. They provided amazing service and meals. An outstanding chef leads the Culinary Team at Abu Dhabi Korean Restaurant. I spoke with the head chef of the Abu Dhabi Korean Restaurant for a few minutes. The Chef Gives An Introduction To Korean Cuisine And Culture. The chef has a lot of Korean cooking experience.

Attempt to locate the only real Korean restaurant in Abu Dhabi. Korean BBQs of grilled beef with varied sides will be on the main menu. dishes Lunch and supper buffets are available on weekends. Private eating spaces with VIP settings. Decorations and characteristics with traditional Korean tastes

Design Of Restaurant

The lovely and eco-friendly traditional designs of Korean dwellings, known as ‘Hanok’ in the local language, began to be erected in the 14th century, under the Joseon Dynasty, and are named ‘Hanok’ in the local language. Korean architecture takes into account the house’s location about its surroundings, as well as the terrain and seasons. The house’s interior is similarly designed in this manner. The use of ‘hanji’ — paper formed from the bark of the mulberry tree — on walls, doors, ceilings, and even the floor is a unique element of traditional houses.

Excelleinsulationing, transparency, sunshine, ventilation n, and humidity levels are adjusted, and even floating dust particles are trapped — how environmentally friendly. In the design and building of a traditional house, the inside is not the only consideration. What matters most is how it interacts with the rest of the environment. A vital component is a physical and aesthetic harmony between the outside and the surrounding nature. Wood, rock, and dirt were mostly utilized to construct traditional dwellings since they are eco-friendly, recyclable, and have natural components. Tiles cover the roof, c, lay and rock cover the walls and flooring, and paper covers the windows and entrances. Traditional patterns might be seen as a symbolism-based yearning for a perfect life.

Nature’s beauty, a desire for paradise, affection, and good luck prayers are frequently shown in designs.

About Korean Cuisine

Korean cuisine refers to the country’s culinary traditions and customs.

It arose from ancient agricultural and nomadic practices and has developed overages of social and environmental changes.

It has grown in popularity to the point that both residents and visitors describe it as a flavorful, spicy, hearty, and nutritious treat that can be savored at any time of day.

The Signature Dish

Korean Barbecue: The term "Korean barbecue" refers to a popular cooking style in Korea.

Grilling meat is a common practice in Korean cuisine.

Beef or chicken are two options. Such foods are frequently served.

Built-in gas or charcoal grills were used to make the food.

the dining room table. The most popular type of Korean BBQ includes soy sauce, sugar, ginger, scallions, sesame oil, garlic, and pepper-marinated meat.

It comes with a variety of rice, kimchi, green onion salad, and fresh vegetable dishes as side dishes. Wrapping the meat in lettuce and serving it with a spicy scallion salad and a spicy sauce composed of Doenjang and Gochujang is a popular method to enjoy Korean BBQ. Korean barbeque is often served with alcoholic beverages such as soju, beer, makgeolli, or wine.

The Restaurant Moto Is Taon Sikdang will be the only authentic Korean restaurant in the United Arab Emirates.

Talon Restaurant, at Abu Dhabi’s Sofitel Hotel, is presently helmed by Korea’s most well-known star chef.

They will provide the best Korean cuisine in Abu Dhabi, as well as high-quality delicacies.

Overall, we had a good time at dinner, and I enjoy that I learned a few things about Korean cuisine. Both the meal and the service were superb. When I want to taste authentic Korean cuisine in the United Arab Emirates, I know where to go. I hope you enjoyed reading about my Korean culinary adventures; these eateries come highly recommended. To Make Your Korean Food Experience Even Better One of the best Korean restaurants in Abu Dhabi It isn’t limited to Abu Dhabi. The Best Korean Restaurant in the United Arab Emirates

[ladybuvelle]

🔥

// No one draws Talon’s base skin the way he actually looks.

[watchiingover]

@welcometotheoverwatch​ asked:

' why are you here ? ' [ Gabriel ]

The assault on Talon’s headquarters had been a long time in the making, and it felt somewhat surreal when Overwatch finally sprung their plan into action. Everyone had come as prepared as they could be, but nothing could have prepared them for the unexpected twist towards the end of the siege.

The remainder of Talon’s forces stationed at the base had retreated further inside the building, Overwatch cutting off their escape. Angela had been outside, treating Overwatch agents who had been injured and evacuated, when a voice came across her communication channel - Genji, she immediately recognised - but what he told her had stopped her in her tracks. He told her that Reaper had actually helped him briefly before fading back into the shadows. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Reaper had been a thorn in Overwatch’s side for many years now, why would he be helping Overwatch members he previously seemed intent on harming? Unless...

She hadn’t had time to ponder what this meant, as shortly after, an explosion sounded from within the base. Once the dust had settled, the communication channels were bombarded by agents asking if everyone was okay, team leaders demanding to know who had set off the explosion, and confusion on everyone’s part as nobody from Overwatch had triggered it. Angela, however, had a suspicion that she needed to confirm. Leaving the injured outside in the capable hands of the other medics, she and a group of others had gone into the remains of the base to aid those agents who may have been injured during the blast - though she soon slipped away from the group to begin her own search. A search that would eventually bear fruit.

The heads-up display of her Valkyrie suit had picked up movement beneath a pile of rubble, and - upon pulling the sections of debris away piece by piece - sure enough, there lay the dark figure of the Reaper. Of Gabriel. Gently and with great care, she kneels down and attempts to help him sit up. He questions her, asking why she was here, and she responds calmly.

“I’m here to help you.” A blue light emanates from her suit’s scanner as she searches for any notable injuries. For now, she doesn’t address anything but his wellbeing. It was hard enough trying to wrap her head around the realisation that Gabriel could have been deep undercover for all of these years, that he never truly left. “Where are you hurt? Can you stand?”

[fellstcr]

⚔️ // her  shoulders  heaved  as  breath  tore  through  heavy  lungs.  muscles  ,  sore  and  strained  ,  ACHED  as  byleth  pulled  her  sword  from  the  corpse  of  an  enemy.  blood  dripped  from  the  steel.  gore  lay  scattered  at  her  feet.  surrounding  her  ,  where  it  had  not  yet  been  burnt  to  a  CRISP  by  the  fire  that  sprayed  ash  at  her  command.

         easy  kills.  all  of  them.  they  were  disjointed  and  messy.  yet  still  they  continued  to  bombard  the  barrier  of  the  wards.  ceaselessly.  byleth  eyed  the  dismembered  corpses  with  half-lidded  eyes.  monsters  ,  creatures  and  ghouls  of  all  kinds.  vermin.  the  lot  of  them.

          she  felt  no  sympathy  for  their  deaths.

                                                                                   she  felt  n̶o̶t̶h̷i̸n̷g̴.̴.   

         behind  her  ,  something  RUSTLED  in  the  trees  and  undergrowth.  green  eyes  flashed  like  a  leonine  creature  in  the  dark  as  she  turned.  hackles  raised.  fangs  bared.  wings  outstretched  behind  her  back.  another  rustle.  big.  coming  closer.  snap.  of  twigs  underfoot.  byleth  crouched  low  and  curled  taloned  hand  around  her  sword  handle.  prowling.  waiting.  WATCHING.

            then. . .  silence.  and  byleth  lingered  in  the  ash  and  mud  ,  the  dirt  and  blood  and  dust.  she  scanned  the  undergrowth  for  a  sign  of  life.  another  rat.  and  FIRE  burned  at  the  tips  of  her  fingers.  flickered  and  flared  at  the  base  of  her  and  rose  to  her  throat  in  wait.

                                                           yellow  eyes  gazed  at  her  from  the  bushes.

           and  FLAME  burst  from  her  throat  in  response.  a  ragged  ,  loud  cry  of  pealing  thunder  and  flame  and  rage  as  the  beam of  light  shot  into  the  forest  and  cast  the  trees  in  smoke  and  light.  the  creature  snarled  in  response  and  jumped  into  the  clearing ,  spraying  mud  and  blood  from  beneath  its  massive  paws.  its  spiky  coat  flared  up  ,  and  it  hissed  as  it  circled  byleth  ,  and  byleth  circled  it  in  turn.

         she  growled  right  back  ,  and  with  a  raised  hand  willed  FLAME  from  the  ground  beneath  its  feet. 

@bxsiliisk​ / pls intervene she’s not realized she is in over her head

[gritpyre-archived]

Drip.

Originally a reply to an rp I have with @clockworkgalaxies, I got carried away and wrote uuuh a lot, thought I might as well post it here! Basil belongs to my friend

Hours pass, languid, lethargic; the grey of the sky parts as the clouds let the sun peek dimly, coating the twilight in rust colored reds and yellows. Specs of dust see-saw their way to the floor, their trajectory illuminated briefly by little beams of light that dance around the room. Alma’s eye follows their sway indifferently, she has one ear pinned backward towards where Basil lays in bed, the other listening firmly to the sepulchral silence of the building.

She can hear the brat’s breathing; it’s rhythmical, regular, a comforting and blissful distraction. It’s enough for a while, she can focus on it and cast away the twitches of her hands, her grinding teeth, the ever building tension that makes her muscles burn with the desire to tear themselves apart. She tries to count Basil’s breaths, tries to let the numbers bury the gasping of her mind, but she can never make it past thirteen without a particularly violent twitch forcing her to start over.

But the scream resurfaces eventually - too early for her taste. It gnaws violently at her frontal lobe, banging around the bones in her skull, demanding attention, to be heard and acknowledged. She almost wants to yell to let it out but she knows it wouldn’t change anything, the scream doesn’t belong to her and therefore, she has no right to get rid of it. Without escape it keeps building up, she can feel its slow travel downwards when her brain isn’t enough to contain it, tearing through each of her vertebra, yanking down her shoulders, zapping the nerves around her hands, siphoning the strength in her legs, making the nothing in her stomach roil, threatening to burst through every single pore in her skin- 

Alma!

She grimaces, closing her eyes hard as she brings a hand to her face, palming around her head as if she could grab the echo and crush it in between her talons, but all her fingers find is a tarry wetness trickling lazily from under her eyepatch. It takes her a couple of muddled seconds before recognition hits her so hard she stumbles until her back hits a wall, the squelch that comes from the impact confirming her fears.

There is blood all over her, coming out through the markings. Her good eye looks down to find sinewy threads painting her body an almost pitch black red, the heavy drip… drip… drip… of her fleshy blood screeching in her ears, the shock finally silencing the scream, or maybe the body had just found a way to let it out through a different path. She swallows hard, hissing when her throat hurts and tastes of iron.

She stops her hands from trying to wipe the mess off from her, knowing the flow won’t stop until it wants to.  Alma hopes it won’t get bad enough for her to pass out like an idiot, but even then Tati could just throw her into a corner and wait for her to wake up or die; though she knows for a fact the older woman would prefer her alive, if only because she’s making a huge mess on the already fucked up floor and she’d love to chew her out for it as she cleans it herself because her dumb ass doesn’t even know how to use a mop-

That dripping is annoying.

Either way, she already owes her for what she did for the stupid kid, adding another nuisance to the mix in a single day is nothing new for her, and she’s sure she will handle whatever form of pay Tati requests of her, even if she has to do it a couple pints lighter, dizzy and nauseous and shivering, it really didn’t matter.

Shivering?

Drip. The sound makes her heart jolt, chest rising and falling as her eye looks for the source of the noise automatically, Alma chuckles nervously when she remembers it’s just her blood already making a small pool for itself at the base of her feet. It feels weird, she trembles at the sight.

Ridiculous, she thinks, she’s been covered from head to toe in her own ichor innumerable times, there’s nothing to be afraid of, it doesn’t matter how it’s happening when it’s a familiar situation. Her gaze pans to the windows, from where the sun is still making its way to disappear behind the horizon. She sighs, hugging herself tight, ears pinning themselves against her head when the movement sends trickles of blood clashing onto the floor, the sound reverberating through the whole building.

That can’t be right. It’s too loud, someone will come to yell at her and she won’t be able to hear them through the noise her blood is making, she can barely hear herself through the slow trickling encompassing her body, every single drop a cacophony.

Her head quickly starts pounding as strongly as her heart, and she finds herself hunching painfully, crushed under the tumult. Some nebulous part of her questions how is it that Basil is still sleeping with the dripping clamoring and threatening to bludgeon dozens of holes into the floor. She wishes he would wake but before she can wonder why the shivering intensifies, her body tensing with enough strength to make her gasp for air.

The fear returns when the noise starts coming through the walls, from the ceilings, she hears the slothful dripping coming in through the beams of light, ringing around in the specs of dust still drifting to the floor, mixing in with the scream she had torn from Basil and Ashlei and Ashlei and Ashlei’s throat. 

She needs to get away, she needs to escape the noise, beat it out of herself if need be, but she’s frozen in place, the oozing of her blood running cold like icicles piercing her joints, nailing her in place with a glacial grip. And in that moment of surprise she realizes the room is quiet.

But it’s so loud.

---

When Basil begins to stir she’s slumped in the farthest corner of the room, disheveled hair obscuring her face in the low light, a trail of acrid smelling blood following her from outside. She has a hand propped in one of her knees, holding her head. One of her ears flickers when she hears him swear, a laughter that doesn’t quite seem to erupt from her droning through the place.

‘‘Mornin’, sunshine.’’

[libermachinae]

Fault Lines Under the Living Room

Part IV: Touch - Chapter 13: Twisting and Snarling

Also available on AO3 Chapter Summary: A hunt is on and the jig is up. Word Count: 3272

---

Gigatron had known, upon entering the throne room, that it was his destiny to have found this place. Why else would the the throne, a grand centerpiece from which he could observe every move of his soldiers, be so perfectly fitted to his frame? From here, he’d known, he would lay the foundations for the campaign that would bring the universe, at last, to its knees before the Decepticons. A place like this was reserved for champions and kings, and his claim over it proved that he had the makings of both.

So the reports concerning the Autobot infiltrators concerned him little. In the hours since their arrival, Startle and Sweeper had alternated rushing inside with alerts to the effect of, “The grounder was spotted in the midst of sector Z4, driving inbound,” or, “The slagged shuttle intercepted and we lost visual.” They treated each announcement as if it were news. Gigatron was well aware Deadlock was headed in fast with an Autobot hanging off his spoiler. He knew his current regiment would struggle and ultimately fail to catch him. Everything was progressing as he had always expected it would, so he stayed in his throne and waited them out.

He knew, as he answered the latest hail to his comm, that while victory would inevitably be his, this would not be it.

“Report.”

“Sir,” Vanquish said, “Deadlock got away.”

“Explain.” Vanquish was among his best, the captain of his security forces and first choice for rare away missions. Hellbat had handpicked him, and Gigatron trusted no one’s judgment more. Clearly, a few years separated from his roots had done nothing to blunt Deadlock’s edge.

“We thought we had him cornered,” Vanquish said. “There were three blasters aimed at his head and a sniper up above. Pothole moved in and he took an unlikely evasive maneuver over the wall at his back.” He grumbled, his pride hurt. “He’s fast, sir.”

“Any sign of his companions?” Gigatron asked.

“No, sir.”

“Is he injured?”

“No, not that I could see, sir.”

“You had him cornered and didn’t shoot him.” This was why he so eagerly awaited Deadlock’s arrival; idleness had proven unkind to his own mechs. Deadlock, whether he ended up serving as idol or an example, would bring them back to the caliber Gigatron expected of those under his command. First, though, he had to get here, and Gigatron was growing tired of being patient. It seemed that afford this encounter the gravity it deserved, Deadlock had decided to turn it into a game. Fine. Gigatron could humor him, if only briefly.

“I’m taking my team,” he decided. “Return to base and await further orders. I don’t need you all broadcasting my location to him.”

“Yes, sir.”

Gigatron cut the comm and made to gesture to Hellbat, only to remember he had left on his own errand. He waved instead to the next nearest mech, Sweeper, who straightened to attention.

“Get my squad ready,” Gigatron commanded. “We’re joining the hunt.”

~*~

Seated in the Decepticon shuttle, hovering at the far edge of Decepticon territory, Ratchet barely moved. There had been a cough sitting in his engine so long it felt like the fumes were corroding his pipes, but he batted down commands to clear it even as his internals stung and his filters felt heavy. He could distract himself by tapping against his knee, but the feeling was starting to overwhelm his rudimentary distraction technique. 

It didn’t help that his other main distraction was judging him, harshly. Rodimus hadn’t said so much in words, but he found it amusing that Ratchet was holding himself to such stringent demands when there were easier solutions. Each time he felt the wave of derision, Ratchet shot back with the simple point that Rodimus wasn’t speaking for a reason. Both of them were silent as Drift slipped into the base, desperate not to distract him but unwilling to cut the comm for even a moment, the crackling feedback of his malfunctioning comm suite their only sign he was still operational.

There had been so many close calls getting him in this far, and he still wasn’t all the way to the target yet. Somehow, he planned to sneak a pair of potentially unwilling Decepticons back out of their fortified base, and then once outside somehow maneuver around the patrols, which were growing more aggressive with each near miss. They’d all known going in this would be a dangerous, difficult operation, but Ratchet kept wondering if they could have done more to prepare. If they’d gone in not just watching one another’s backs, but being—

Rodimus intercepted the thought before it could go any further. Regardless of the fact they kept looping back to it, now wasn’t the time.

“I’m in,” Drift whispered, offering an ideal distraction.

“What are their defenses like?” The words tumbled out of Ratchet, followed by a hacking filter cough that he immediately muted himself for. His fans were still spinning when he jumped back into the channel.

“—very spare,” Drift was saying. “Could’ve walked in through the front door.”

“That’s not normal, right?” Rodimus asked, assuming the answer but trying to avoid saying something stupid in front of the expert.

“It’s not like there’s standard practice out here, but no,” Drift said. “A group with that sophisticated a defense system normally wouldn’t leave their headquarters unattended.”

“Is it possible it’s a decoy?” Ratchet asked.

“Sure,” Drift said nonchalantly.

“As in a trap?”

“Uh-huh.”

Ratchet didn’t bother adding anything else. Rodimus’ thoughts were bland and resigned; a mental shrug, perhaps a pat on the shoulder. Ratchet accepted it as the best he was going to get.

“Any signs of Grit?” Rodimus asked to fill the empty space.

“Not yet. Have an idea where he might be, though.”

“Thought you said they don’t keep standard practice in these places.”

“They don’t.”

Ratchet was going to push him further on it when he heard the subtle click of disconnection.

“Drift?”

No response.

“Drift?” he tried again, pointlessly.

“What—did he—”

He did. He did, Ratchet was certain, because the last tone of a comm being broken was completely different from one shut off manually. That knowledge, combined with Rodimus’ unending confidence in Drift, allowed them to stave off the cascade of panic they felt at being shut out so suddenly.

“Why would he cut us off?” Rodimus demanded.

Ratchet briefly wondered if they were coming to rely too much on their mind link, losing touch with how to understand other Cybertronians without it. The passing thought was swept along in the tide, though, inconsequential compared to their much more pressing concerns.

“He found something.” And now he was facing it all alone.

“Not alone,” Rodimus reminded him. “He’s got us.”

He wasn’t wrong. Ratchet reached out and held onto Rodimus’ certainty, feeling Rodimus do the same as he started to input the commands for takeoff.

~*~

Gigatron slammed one taloned foot to the ground and roared, echoing through the barren canyons. Another dead end and no sign of Deadlock. The little shuttle had made one appearance but fled the moment Gigatron gave chase, leaving him once more to wait for reports full of almosts and nearlys.

The tracks Drop Down had found led to a cliff with no apparent follow through. Same with the trail Sweeper had slithered over. Now, Rageor was chiming in, claiming he had found something. Gigatron flapped his wings twice and took to the air, homing in on the provided coordinates. Rageor stood before a tall cliff face, two members of his squad on either side of him, facing something hidden between the three of them. Gigatron let himself drop, brittle dust stone buckling beneath his feet as he landed and sending a cloud up into the air. He coiled his necks up to their full height before he stepped forward, flames licking his teeth.

“Show me,” he demanded.

Rageor nodded and stepped aside, revealing a mech cowering against the wall. Blocky and tan with green accents, his utterly plain appearance would have made it possible to mistake him for a neutral, were it not for the purple insignia splashed on the back of his shoulder. Gigatron turned to the captain of his vanguard, who raised his hands and took a step back.

“That’s not Deadlock,” Gigatron growled.

“He claims to have information,” Rageor said, turning his face away when the flames came close. Gigatron turned one of his heads to the unknown Decepticon, who cowered from the direct attention and squirmed as though trying to press himself into the rock itself.

“Well?” The thrill of the hunt was waning, glory still at bay, and Gigatron’s patience was wearing thin.

“Dr—Deadlock, he brought me here,” the Decepticon said, “on his shuttle. Rickety little thing, meant we were in auditory range the whole time.” He gulped as Gigatron pawed at the ground, talons driving furrows into the soft stone. “He and his Autobots, they were trying to be vague, but they had something on their ship. Some kinda weapon.”

“And?” Gigatron asked, unimpressed. He hardly needed to ruffle his platelets to reveal his own flying arsenal. If this Decepticon intended to use this weapon as a bargaining chip for his life, Gigatron wasn’t sure which side he was undervaluing more.

“And they specifically didn’t want you getting at it”

Hm. Hadn’t he heard a refrain like that before?

The Decepticon froze as Gigatron straightened, each of his hands rising high to scan the distant horizon. Deadlock might have been the key to this planet’s greatest asset, but Gigatron hadn’t gotten where he was by limiting his prospects.

“All patrols, update priorities,” he announced. “It seems there is a second prize in our midst.”

~*~

“That is what we are, that is why we’re here. Machines of war, of—”

Hellbat broke off mid-rant, which was fine, because with two guns aimed at his head and the tip of a sword digging into his back, Drift was only half paying attention. The rest of his limited focus was on Grit, kneeled at Hellbat’s side with his hands bound behind his back and plating locked tight as a blast container. The stone army he had tucked to the side for now, concerning but not an immediate threat while they remained in their dormant state.

“What? Gigatron, sir,” Hellbat snapped, glaring at the ceiling as though he could see his commander through the stone. “You can’t—we need the Autobots alive.”

Drift did his best not to react, though the blade digging harder between his shoulder panels suggested he didn’t do well enough.

“What’s—I don’t know—what do you care about some cheap Autobot weapon? We have the army, remember? That’s—”

Drift’s control slipped. He flinched from the edge of the sword cutting into his subplating, but it didn’t stop him from switching his comms back on. Security be damned, they were already compromised.

“Gigatron knows about the Enigma,” he rushed to say. “Get off the planet, go, they—”

“Hey, enough.”

He thought he heard the blip of a response before the gun pointed at his temple twisted around and came down hard against his helm. His vision went to static as he went down, not from the blow itself but the audible POP as his busted comms suite finally gave out. A hand grabbed his drooping shoulder and hauled him upright again, while another forced his helm up to meet Hellbat’s optics.

“If you tell me where the Autobots are, I’ll promise to put them into stasis before I begin the harvesting process,” he said. “It’s a much better end than they’ll find in Gigatron’s maw, I assure you.”

Helm swimming with pain and spark frantic with worry—please, let them somehow find a degree more sense than they had displayed throughout the extent of this ordeal—Drift somehow managed to find Hellbat’s optics and lock onto them.

“You know, you almost remind me of them,” he said. “You’re all terrible at compromise.” His voice sounded hollow, and when the next strike came he sagged down to his knees, waiting for the pain to fade and the static to clear. He tried pinging his comm suite but got nothing, not even the echo of a signal failing to reach its destination. He was fully cut off.

“Go,” he heard Hellbat bark. “Gather your team. You know what to do.”

“But sir—”

“Once I’ve gathered everything I need from him, you can do whatever you please with what remains,” Hellbat promised Vanquish. “Now go.”

The blade drew away from his back, followed by retreating footsteps. He peered up at his remaining guards, guns still aimed, and Hellbat, who had drawn out a pair of stasis cuffs. Drift glanced at Grit. The returned look was weary, but not yet beaten. The silent dialogue that passed between them might not have been precise as a comm, but it was much faster: Drift only had to leap back as Grit threw himself at Hellbat.

Both guns went off, their near misses giving Drift an opening to draw his swords and rush them. Movements simple, cuts clean: one guard down faster than the time it had taken him to get up. The other fired again, forcing Drift to dodge to the side and back. The remaining guard circled Drift, finger wrapped around the trigger and clearly waiting for him to make the first move. Drift let him, maneuvering himself until his back was to the hallway, the guard standing between him and the stone army.

Down on the floor, Grit didn’t have a way to pin Hellbat, but he was keeping him occupied, both of them twisting and snarling around each other as they fought for the advantage. Hellbat managed to curl one leg between them and shove Grit off. He rolled into Drift’s path, who hauled him up without taking his optics off the guard. Hellbat rose to his pedes with an almost insulting level of patience, dusting off his armor and brushing his hand over the minor dents Grit had left in his plating. Drift shoved Grit behind himself, swords immediately coming back up when he saw the guard twitch.

“Go,” he said without looking back. “I suspect your teammate needs help right now.”

“Which one?” Grit growled. “They’re both—uck, never mind. You want these two for yourself? Have at ‘em.” He took off, awkward gait echoing through the empty stone halls. Drift didn’t know how he would get out of the base with his arms bound, but with so much else riding on him he couldn’t worry about it.

Hellbat’s guard twitched, tempted by the easy target into opening a window. Drift spun his blade forward, going for the gun, but Hellbat shoved him to the side. The scuffle was enough to break the gun’s aim, but now it was pointed at Drift as he rolled to the side and threw off Hellbat. He swept out a leg, knocking over the guard, and used his momentum as he stood to kick the gun to the other side of the platform.

He made to chase after it, but a flash of movement to his other side caught his attention: Hellbat had taken off. Drift gave a second kick to make sure the guard stayed down, then rushed to the edge of the platform, Hellbat touching down at the control panels in the middle of the room.

“Enough of this.”

“Hellbat, don’t!” Drift launched himself over the barrier, knowing he was already too late.

“Maybe a few of you will be left well enough intact for me to finish me work, maybe not,” Hellbat said. “It doesn’t matter; destiny will have its way.” He pressed something on the panel and the whole room began to hum.

~*~

Comms were still online and broadcasting, but they hadn’t used them since Ratchet finally gave up trying to hail Drift. Since then, communication had taken place entirely within their heads, ideas and plans and anxieties cascading and mingling until once more it became a challenge to remember where one started and the other began. Unlike before, though, the overlap in their minds did not overwhelm. Instead, their shared fears were pushed down under the joint weight of their assurance and commitment, elevating a single priority above all the noise of their eddying thoughts: find Drift.

Rodimus was hovering in a canyon near the base as Ratchet moved in. To speed his approach, Ratchet was keeping the base between himself and the orbital cannon, a risky move when they didn’t know how desperate the Cons were. This was the best their combined processors could come up with, though, and addressing all of their doubts would have wasted time better spent searching for Drift.

Rodimus watched their surroundings, looking for any sign of the Con hunting parties that had hounded him and Drift on their way in. The world below was as still as the stone that made it, though, no glints of passing armor or bored blaster rounds to pinpoint the enemy. He knew they had to be out there (unless they were already back in the base, a possibility they weren’t ready to think about yet), but the deep valleys and harsh shadows were working in their favor. There was a real possibility he was being sought just as intently by mechs who would see him long before he found them, but he didn’t dare to leave his post in case Drift came running out of the base, in need of urgent pickup.

It was thanks to his vantage point he was able to witness two arrivals at nearly the same time. The first was the Decepticon shuttle sailing into view, dodging between the tallest rock formations with a dexterity that shouldn’t have been possible for the unwieldy shuttle. The second, and the more startling, was a beastformer of immense size twisting out of the shadows, many eyes locked on the approaching ship while its body rippled and coiled, preparing to spring.

Rodimus shouted something, more sound than word and utterly inconsequential. Ratchet swallowed his panic and the shuttle swerved into a tighter turn than it was designed for, swinging out of the way of the incoming pounce but directly into a stone peak. Even at a distance, Rodimus swore he could hear the terrible sound of rending metal, rattling Ratchet’s thoughts and shaking his control. Rodimus dropped the speeder into a dive, aiming for the shuttle, but Drift’s ship was already spitting out its own complaints, shaking like it was on the verge of falling apart. He could see Ratchet’s ideas forming in real time, and no, stop, that was a stupid idea, don’t—

Got each other.

The Decepticon shuttle’s thrusters heaved up to full burn. There wasn’t the space to gain much speed, but the momentum was enough, slamming into the beastformer who belched flames and raked claws across the cockpit. He was aiming to tear his way inside, but before he could he was smashed into, then through a stone wall, the entire nose of the shuttle lost into a band of an explosion and an outpouring of thick, black smoke.

“Ratchet!” Rodimus yelled, unable to tell whether all the panicked, fearful thoughts were shared between them or just his own processor knocked into hyperspeed.

The shuttle’s engines ground it forward until something gave and they flared out with a series of pops and bursts. The entire craft was forced upward once more before the thrusters finally burned out and it slumped, the angle of the hole it had made forcing it to turn like a final wave goodbye.

[smolthealmighty]

Spinaraki Week Level 2 Day 1: Chase

Give Myself To You

When Spinner had the idea to visit his hometown and show off his old hideaways to Tomura, he thought it would be romantic. He could turn these sad places where he went to cry into secluded havens where he could spend some quality alone time with the love of his life, and do something he's wanted to do since their third date. He was not expecting a neon orange pickup truck to interrupt the date by hurtling towards them at high speed.

In which Spinner's old bullies want to run him over with their truck, Tomura wants to beat the shit out of them for daring to try, and Spinner just wants to pop the question.

~~~~~

This was not how this date was supposed go. Spinner just wanted to show his boyfriend around his hometown, give him a tour of all the isolated spots he would hide away in before he eventually shut himself up inside the Iguchi house. It was gonna be a nice romantic getaway, where the places he associated with some of his worst memories could be re-contextualized as he turned them into secluded little havens where he could woo his boyfriend –and eventually propose to him– in peace.

There they were, sitting together at the edge of the forest that semi-surrounded the town, watching the sun start to set over the hilly meadow that lay below them. Tomura was fully relaxed for once, leaning heavily on his boyfriend as he reminisced about the utter disaster that was the one time they tried to go clubbing, while Spinner was mustering up his courage and fidgeting with the rings in his jacket’s pocket. Just as he turned to face Tomura and was about to start the speech he had been revising in his mind since –admittedly– their third date, he saw the unmistakable neon orange pickup truck that belonged to Spinner’s worst nightmares, Nōtarin, Iyaga, and Rase, speeding in the background. And the truck was gunning straight for them!

“Oh no.”

“Hm, what do you mean ‘oh no’?” asked Tomura, who also uttered an “oh no” once Spinner pointed towards the truck that was now only a hundred meters away. With reflexes that were still etched into his bones after years of dealing with the trio, Spinner clutched his boyfriend close and launched the both of them down the hill in a barrel roll, barely missing the thick tires of the truck as it blew past them.

“What the hell was that shit?” yelled Tomura, as Spinner shot up, grabbed his hand, and lead them towards one of the few trees that dotted the meadow.

“Those are the assholes I told you about, the ones who always went after me. One of them must’ve seen me and recognized me, and now they’re picking back up from where we last left off!”

“You last left off with them trying to turn you into roadkill?!”

As they ducked into the hollow, a chorus of brash voices with heavy country accents boomed across the meadow.

“Shuichi, you purse designer’s wet dream! Why don’t you let us mount your lizard head to the wall like the hunting trophy you are!”

“Nōtarin, I saw someone with him, hey gecko geek, do you mind if we mount your friend too?”

“Damn Iyaga, keep it in your pants. Though to be fair, compared to talon-hands you’d probably be a better fit!”

At this point Tomura was already struggling against Spinner to march out of the hollow and wreak vengeance. “C’mon Spinner, I’ll mount their heads on our base’s wall!”

“Would you just gimme a sec to cool down a bit?!” Tomura relented and stopped squirming, letting Spinner hold him as he tried to stop trembling.

“Ugh, I swear, they always know how to get under my skin. And I really thought I’d be over them by now.”

Tomura turned to face Spinner and squeezed him back, taking his boyfriend’s scaly beak and pressing it into his scarred neck. “You’ll be alright. You’re just a little stuck, I’m right here if you need a push you know.”

Spinner sighed as he nuzzled the curve of Tomura’s shoulder. “I know I’m not the pinnacle of dating material but damn, people can have different tastes.”

Tomura snorted, “Oh please, as if those hillbilly bitches know anything about ‘good taste’. If your loyalty and empathy for empty husks like me aren’t enough to prove ‘em wrong, then you having the muscles to be able to wield a giant ‘fuck you’ sword should’ve done the job. The fact they can’t see any of that just shows that their IQ scores are all in the negatives.”

Looking up and seeing Tomura’s self-assured smile, the smile graced his face whenever he was so sure that he was right, knowing that he truly believed that his boyfriend was really all that, melted Spinner’s heart into a puddle of goo.

“Marry me.”

Maybe melted it a little too much.

“Huh?”

Realizing what just came out of his mouth, Spinner blushed violently and tried to start some damage control. “Uh shoot I mean um-”

“Hey Nōtarin, let’s ram into that tree! I think I hear them over there!”

Hearing that brought Spinner back to his senses, and he dragged Tomura out of the hollow, Nōtarin swerving just enough to only nick one of the headlights off the truck before resuming the chase.

“Son of a bitch, I had it all planned out and I messed it up!”

“Had what planned out?” asked Tomura, still in a whirl from what he was pretty sure he heard Spinner blurt just seconds ago.

“You know what, it’s fine, I’ll just do it on the fly. Follow me!”

They booked it across the meadow, Spinner weaving them around the hidden hills and valleys camouflaged beneath the waist-high grass. The truck kept slowly gaining on them, but the constant bangs and thumps of the truck bouncing against the uneven ground and the arguing between the driver and his passengers betrayed how little the tormentors knew about the terrain.

“Dammit, stay still you lizard-fuck!”

“Nah, let him keep running. Makes the chase more exciting!”

“Maybe if you’d gotten your driver’s license, you’d actually be able to hit him Nōtarin!”

“Fuck off Rase!”

Jumping over a particularly thick mud puddle, Spinner finally began the speech that had been previously interrupted.

“I’m sure you already know that I fell for you pretty fast-”

“Understatement of the year, but I’m not one to talk.”

The neon orange paint was splattered with mud, with the new coat of brown getting bigger as the wheels spun, sluggishly making its way through the puddle.

Spinner laughed breathlessly as he continued, “-yeah, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able put how much the love you gave me in return means to me into words. I couldn’t do it even if the ocean was made of ink and the earth was paper, it just wouldn’t be enough.”

“Shuichi…”

“And, well, since I can’t use words, I thought I’d show my devotion with some kind of gift, but I don’t really have much to give you except myself. Still, I’ll give that to you for the rest of my life if you want it.”

By this point they had stopped just a few feet in front of a moss-covered boulder, one that blended in with the green grass and was in the direct pathway of the truck that continued driving towards them at top speed.

Ignoring the oncoming truck, Spinner took Tomura’s other hand into his own, and softly asked, “Tomura, will you marry me?”

The truck hit the rock, skyrocketing up and over the couple. The screams of the driver and his passengers fell on deaf ears as Tomura gazed into bright, cherry-petal eyes and answered the proposal:

“You’re more than enough for me, you’re more than I could ever dream of asking for. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Not even a moment after he accepted, a loud crash echoed across the meadow as the truck collided with the ground, flipping over as it did so. The bullies were quick to exit the wreck and make their way towards the still lovestruck duo to attack them. It was a farce from the start, the newly established fiancés barely paying them any attention as they began to brawl.

“Look at you all smiley and shit,” said Tomura as he kicked Rase across the field.

“Why wouldn’t I be all smiles? I’m gonna get to marry to the love of my life! You should see your face right now, looks like your smile’s gonna split your face in two with how big it is!” exclaimed Spinner, dodging Nōtarin’s sluggish punches with ease.

“Touché, fiancé. I bet you’ve already got a plan for everything that comes next, you gooey romantic.”

“Well, I was thinking we could have a small ceremony, just us and the league. Nothing too fancy, we’d just do the vows, ring exchange, ‘I do’s’, and sealing it with a kiss, all within fifteen minutes tops. That way we can splurge on the reception, the best music-” Nōtarin screamed as his arm was sliced by Spinner’s hunting knife.

“-the most delicious food and drinks-” Nōtarin gurgled as the knife ran through his neck.

“-and a cake so big that’ll make everyone sick. We’d just have to grab someone to officiate the thing and make it official.”

“We can get Giran to do it, he’s got just enough connections that he could make it happen.” Iyaga howled as his chest caved in.

“And for the honeymoon, I was thinking about taking a joyride on the coastline. We could stock up the van and make stops at all the beaches, and maybe get rid of a few heroes along the way if we’re up for it.”

“That sounds good to me, I’m certainly looking forward to having some fun alone time to ourselves!” Tomura cried happily, as Rase joined Iyaga in the pile of dust that lay at his feet.

~

By the time they came down from the high of the fight, the sun was dipping below the tree line, Tomura and Spinner sprawled out next to each other on the bloodstained earth.

“Ah shit,” said Tomura, “I just realized that there goes my future date idea of murdering your hometown bullies.”

Spinner chuckled at his fiancé’s annoyed tone, “That’s okay, we only murdered a couple of them. Next time we can take down the town leaders who encouraged everything, make a day out of it.”

“Hmm, alright, but I’m planning it. It’s only fair.”

Satisfied, Spinner let out a sigh before suddenly sitting up. “Oh right, I gotcha these,” he said as he pulled the rings out of his pocket.

“It’s just a pair of those plastic rings from the arcade we went to a while back, but I figure we’re not gonna wear these for too long because they’re just engagement rings. We can rob a jewelry store together to pick out the wedding rings.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Tomura, as they each took turns slipping the rings onto each other’s fingers. Taking a second to let the presence of a ring on his finger sink in, Tomura smiled and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful that Re-Destro only snapped off my first three fingers.”

“Well, that’s one way to say you’re happy to be engaged,” Spinner joked.

“Hm. Then I’ll say it more romantically, just for you.” This time, it was Tomura who took Spinner’s hands into his own as he spoke his piece:

“Shuichi, you are one thing in this world that I could never hate, and the only person I will ever promise myself to. I’ll do whatever it takes to give you the life you want to live. I love you, and I’ll continue to love you until the stars grow cold, and even after that.”

If that speech hadn’t already swept Spinner off his feet, then the deep kiss Tomura initiated sent his heart skyward with how much it fluttered. When they both came down to earth, they went about flipping the thoroughly beat-up truck right side up, and as the last rays of sunlight disappeared beneath the horizon, the newly engaged couple drove off into the ink and lavender sky.

[andisinger]

Black Crow Chapter 4

Word Count:5209 Warnings: Blood, violence, cursing   A/N: Hey everyone! Hope you’re enjoying the story so far. Likes are appreciated. Love you guys <3

    I woke the next morning, the sun gleaming on the particles of heavy dust floating before my tired eyes early in the morning. The silence of the foreign town was broken by the blacksmith's heavy hammer falling on metal while his forge burned at such an intensity I could feel the feverishness of the bright flames. Horses shoes clopped against the decaying cobblestone ground around the wealthier spots in the distance. Chickens clucked as their clawed feet kicked dirt behind them only to peck at anything that lay silent beneath the leaves. I could hear the entirety of the world while I lay still, watching the particles floating delicately in the air. 

    A small, dark grey bird flapped its wings violently before landing with a bounce on the board above my stall. Its small head twitched back and forth, the small beady black eyes capturing the light as it watched me in the small room. I was frozen in place, staring at this tiny bird. Kav exhaled heavily next to me, the sudden deep noise spooking the bird. The long wings flapping with the gentle breeze to take it back into the early morning sky. 

    Roosters around the town began to crow a few moments later; their loud cries raised Kav’s head. I smiled and patted her cheek. Her wiry fur coated in strands of hay. 

“How about a run?” I asked her. Her ears flashed towards me and her eyes twinkled in excitement. The two of us left the barn quietly leaving behind the other three members of my pack to watch my weapons. 

     The sun had not begun to rise yet, shielding the two of us in darkness. We made our back to the edge of the solemn town at a steady trot; before us lay the wilderness, untamed in its vastness. Kav broke into a full gallop, her lungs expanding and pushing out my legs with every heavy breath she took, her quick legs carrying us into the tall grass of the field nearby. Her quick paws and talons pushed us farther away from the town. The grass around us moved as if it were waves in the sea; the cool wind combined with Kav’s speed causing a whistling as the blades of grass slapped and brushed against each other.

    Kav and I chased the night away; the morning sun finally arrived as we sat on a hill watching as the light of day altered everything around us. The secrets and viciousness of night dissipated from over my shoulder. Cries from the animals of the night changed into the roaring sounds of the animals that claimed the day. Nearby, Kav held her nose to a small hole, sniffing loudly then growling playfully. A smile blossomed across my lips; she began to dig, kicking the dirt under her and dirtying my wool covering further. 

“Kav.” I called, giggling. 

     The large beast dug and grabbed a small animal; its small bones crunched and cracked as she devoured it quickly. I watched the sun rise again, silence swallowing me whole. Kav snorted, her ears lifted and she stood tall; her broad chest filling with air as her attention returned to the town. Lifted her head, she howled. A deep sound that reverberated through my bones, she was returning the call to the other wargs left behind. Kav stood waiting for a moment, eyes still focused on the town that was hardly visible now. 

     She howled again; a higher sound that caught my attention. They hadn’t responded. I stood beside her, looking towards the call, an anxious feeling brewing in my stomach. 

“Let’s go.” I told her. We moved quickly again, pounding feet and aching lungs making towards my pack. We were within reach when Kav and I were taken from the left side. The force of an unseeable creature throwing me from her back and into the grass that swallowed me whole. 

    Kav was on her feet again; growling and circling something I couldn’t find. My first instinct was to reach for my bow only to find my thigh bare of my quiver and the cool wood missing from my shoulder. Kav snapped, barking and pouncing onto the creature with messy gnashing jaws. Heavy grunts and cries rang through the air as I pushed my way through the thick blades of grass. My lips pursed into a whistle that rang out towards my other beasts. 

    Kav had the beast pinned under her paw; the beast thrashed and screamed. It’s pale skin smoking from the rising sun, long, sharp fingers stabbing at my beast, it’s gleaming eyes dulling as Kav lowered her jaws around the creature's head. The grass around us whistled as the other wargs came to tear at the humanoid creature. Steaming flesh being thrown around the field; the roaring, high pitched screams muted as the beasts tore the Bruxa limb from limb and devoured the slender flesh that flexed over spindly, red muscles. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ghastly sight; the feminine head hung behind down with the jaw slacked revealing sharp white teeth behind grey lips. 

    The four wargs worked as a team while they shredded the Bruxa as if it were a piece of parchment; they swallowed the flesh in an instant, their pink and spotted tongues lapping the blood that fell. Hod snapped at the young nameless wargs, teeth barred as his head hung low and his shoulders broad. The silver male tucked his tail between his hind legs in submission, the black female pinned her ears against her broad neck with a small growl rolling from her chest. I whistled again, a long deep sound that changed their stances as I approached. 

“Let’s go back into town, see what they have to offer.” Kav’s wet tongue lapped at my nose. I smiled as I patted her shoulder, mounting Hod so I could see the land around us. 

    The tall grass now flat where I had been tossed, blood soaked into the soil creating a thick mud that clung to every available surface. The sun rose higher in the sky, the town clung to its exhausted demeanor. The townsfolk slumping around lazily doing their daily duties in silence apart from the noise their work made. The animals cried as they fled from the five of us as we made our way back into the stables to retrieve my weapons. 

“Good morning.” A tired, yawning voice said behind me. 

“Morning.” I replied. My hands secured my quiver along with my packs to the strap secured around the base of Hod’s neck. 

“Where is Geralt?” The bard asked. I inhaled sharply and shook my head. 

“That’s not my problem.” I turned to look at him.

    His eyes intently watching the wargs surrounding me, with every movement they took, Jaskier twitched uncomfortably. I chuckled as I realized he was unsure of what to think of massive beasts; they stood shoulder to shoulder with me, their heads lingering over mine at the right angle. 

“You’re afraid of the wargs?” I asked, moving towards Kav, her breath escaping her small nostrils and wafting my hair behind my shoulders. Jaskier scoffed, his brows furrowing as his lips pulled into a smile. He shuffled awkwardly to lean against the door of the stall which opened wider, throwing him off his balance and almost to the hay covered floor beneath us. I giggled as I patted the young wargs now focused on my palms. 

“Would you like to pet her?” I asked, my hand stroking the black rough fur on her ribs. Her head aimed at me but her eyes looked at the loud bard up and down cautiously. 

    His brows shot up his forehead, a bright smile stretching his cheeks and lighting a sparkle in his eyes. Jaskier’s hand shot out to pet her, the black warg lifted her lip as a warning. 

“Not so fast.” I warned, slowly his movements. Jaskier dropped his hand, his smile drooping slightly. 

“Let her smell your hand first.” I instructed; taking his hand in mine, I stepped closer to him to bring his hand towards the beast. Her face softened, her ears flicking as she sniffed our hands. I removed my hand, allowing her to familiarize herself with Jaskier’s smell. The bard chuckled excitedly as the nameless animal licked his palm.

“This is amazing.” He said, I whistled through my teeth for Hod to come closer.

    I smiled and giggled as he continued to allow her to lick his flesh. Hod’s body pressed against mine in a trusting stance, I pressed back into his side with a smile and a pleased pat to his neck. Jaskier looked at me, his blue eyes twinkling as if he were a child surrounded by sweets. 

“What’s her name?” He asked, the wargs eyes less attentive and more relaxed. She licked her lips, her head lifting to begin to lick his cheeks and nose. 

“She does not have one yet. Naming ceremonies only occur in Myomel after she has completed her training.” I told him. 

“Myomel?” Jaskier questioned, his eyes closed as the black warg stepped closer to continue wetting his face. 

“My home.” Glancing out the window, the visage of my father smiling at me faded with the wind, a strange feeling stung my heart; I quickly looked back to Jaskier who was happily laughing as he stroked the fur on the black wargs cheek. 

“Her fur feels so rough.” He stated. 

    I nodded in agreement and rested my head on Hod’s neck, the leather strap around the base of his throat tugging slightly at my hood. 

“Do all your people wear hoods?” Jaskier asked. 

“Apart from elders, yes.” I informed him while adjusting my wool cloak. 

“Why don’t elders wear hoods?” He asked turning away from the warg. Stepping between them, he stretched his hand out to Hod. I rewarded the black warg with red dragons breath as I spoke. 

“They have earned their positions.” Hod allowed the excited bard to stroke his face down to his neck. The older, experienced warg enjoying the feeling of appreciation. Jaskier and I spoke for sometime about my people and how we lived, he swallowed the information with glee and excitement. 

“Not many people have so much information about your people.” He said, turning to me with a brilliant light behind his eyes. 

    The sun had risen higher in the sky, the day now approaching its peak. My wargs had had their fill earlier in the day, but I had not; my stomach growled and rumbled beneath the skin. Sighing, I smiled. 

“I’m going to eat.” Turning to walk from the stables, Jaskier followed, attempting to hum an unfamiliar tune. He was creating a song, a song about the unknown people of Myomel. The town was an overwhelming grey, the sun did little to light the unexciting town. The dull color extended from the mud on the ground to the members that inhabited it. Everything was mute, dull, boring; nothing bolder than the three newcomers who were simply passing through. 

     However, outside of the edge of the town, everything was bright, alive, vibrant. It seemed as though this place appeared to be where anything went to die; any resemblance of life dulling and eventually fading from the world outside. I sat across from the bard, he spoke endlessly; his words strangely brightening the small room only lit by a single fire in the corner. His excited attitude brought white light through the windows banishing out the shadows that loomed over us. 

“Do your people only eat vegetables and fruit?” Jaskier asked, his elbows resting on the table as he leaned forwards to look at my plate. I sighed, growing tired and agitated at the incessant talking and questioning. 

“Yes, we do not eat meat apart from ceremonies.” 

“What kind of ceremonies?” 

    I stuffed my mouth with potatoes and carrots while I eyed him from beneath my hood. The fraying edges blurring the sight of the top of his face. Chewing and swallowing, I moved to answer. “Weddings, naming’s, birth.” 

“Did you get a naming ceremony?” He asked. I nodded, opening my mouth for the sweet fruit. 

“What is your name?” Jaskier asked. His arms falling flat to the table as he dropped and tilted his head to try and look at my face. I turned to look out the window. 

“We do not share our names.” I stood quickly and made my way out of the room. My hand tossing a small silver coin at the man behind the bar. The coin rattled against the wood while it rolled and tossed. My stomach was hardly full, my wargs could sense the emptiness approaching. The beasts in the barn rested as I approached; their ears perking, their eyes opening then dropping as they licked their lips. 

    In the stall next to them was the Witcher; white hair half done up after being brushed carefully. His hands tugged on his saddle roughly; the leather squeaking slightly as it rubbed against itself. We stayed silent as we both prepared our animals for another day. The silver warg lifted his head, resting it on the edge of the stall towards the Witcher next to me. 

“Keep your beasts in your stall.” His gruff voice said as he tugged on the pouch near the hock of the chestnut gelding. Scoffing, I lifted my brows. 

“She smells something.” I told him. 

“If she does not want to lose her nose,” He began, turning to face me with his brows stitched together and his lips in the familiar tight line, “she should move it.” 

    I stepped forwards, placing my arms over the barrier between the two stalls. 

“You would die if you tried.” The Witcher inhaled deeply, his chest broadening. The cold leather of his armor pressing into the skin of my hands as he moved quickly to remove my hood. 

“Warg Rider.” He snarled, holding the hood to my shoulder blade. 

“Witcher.” I spat back at him, teeth barred while my beasts watched carefully waiting for the whistle to attack and tear him limb from limb. 

“Move your beast.” 

“Move your hand.” Our eyes locked; gold against blue, out of the corner of my eye was a flash of light. I could not break the challenge, I could not allow the Witcher to be the victor once more. My nostrils flared for a moment as I licked my lips. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier called, his voice nearing the door of the stables. 

    The Witcher released my hood, I tugged it up quickly over my head once more shielding my face from the sight of anyone else. The gleeful footsteps of the bard approached through the sloppy mud that slapped as he ran into the hay of the stables. The Witcher resumed his dictatorial heaves on the withering leather straps. 

“Geralt, where have you been?” Jaskier asked, I ignored their meaningless conversation by looking out the window to find the blinding light that flitted by. 

“What do you want, Bard?” The Witcher spat. Jaskier approached with his sputtering nonsense. 

“The people here are plagued by- oh, what did they say it was?” Jaskier groaned as he struggled to remember the name of the monster. The light flitted passed the window again, catching my attention. 

“It lives in the abandoned castle; the townspeople said it ate its mother.” Geralt paused, tilting his head to look at the forgetful bard. 

     I rushed out of the stall; the wooden door opening behind me as my animals followed behind me. Hod shook his head as we looked towards the field reflecting the sun with every wave of joy from the gentle cooling wind. Patting his shoulder blade, I wet my lips. They could not see the spirits, only sense them; this was no ordinary spirit, a gleaming ball of light. 

“What are you doing?” Jaskier asked, his head close to mine to see what I was looking at. My hand shot out and secured his throat against my palm. 

“This does not concern you, Jaskier.” Jaskier nodded rapidly; his blue eyes wide and his hands around my wrist. I could feel him swallow before I pushed him back then mount Hod; the wind whipping across my cheeks as I searched for the spirit. 

    This was the spirit father told me of, the first spirit of the forest that bore everything as we knew it. We ran after the spirit; galloping feet pounding into the pine needles on the forest floor, panting breaths that spurred our sides, the light circled bases of the trees and climbed to the tips of the leaves then fell back down to the ground below. The light paused ahead, the two young wargs continuing their chase passed the sphere that exuded a feeling, a pulse point. Hod skidded beneath me; as he leaned back, I was launched forwards to grab around his neck. The handle of my sword scrapping harshly against my ribs, Hod turned and stood still as we regained our footing. 

    Dismounting hesitantly, I made my way to the first spirit. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it; it seemed to lengthen before my eyes. 

“Lenna n'e lle cam. (Stretch out your hand)” A mangled voice commanded while I stood nearby examining the light. It was somehow flat, yet spherical; it was every shape while having no defining shape. I swallowed then extended my hands underneath the light. The light fell onto my flesh; in an instant, I was swallowed by the blinding rays. My arms fell heavy while still feeling weightless. I couldn’t help but feel a joy growing in my chest, warmth spreading through my veins as the spirit stole me away from the world. 

    Everything was empty, pure as the newly fallen snow; the trees above waving gently against the summer breeze. Before me, stood the first spirit; long black hair that protruded and cascaded down his front from beneath his hood which covered his face. 

“Sina naa i' men things nae e' i' beginnien. (This is the way things were in the beginning)” He said, his voice distorted and augmented, moving like a river as he spoke. His long fingers rested against my palms while he looked up; his hood falling away from his face to reveal sharp green eyes with flakes of grey about them. His pale skin contrasting with his dark eyebrows that stretched to his temples; his thin pink lips stretched as he spoke. 

    I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his visage; the unspeakable beauty before me, why me. He looked up to the green tree tops that faded. The leaves fell, brushed away in a moment leaving behind bare branches. The trees groaned and cracked, most collapsing around us. 

“Maa pelu. (Look around)” The ground was wet with black sludge, screams of monsters and humans alike filled the air, grey ash fell consistently from the sky to cover the trees that had fallen nearby and to rest upon my shoulder. My heart filled with agony, sadness, and rage; I looked back to him, his skin a sickly grey lined with creases and red eyes that pronounced the green that had faded. 

“Mani marte?(What happened)” I asked. My voice a harsh murmur against the hot wind from the East and the frozen wind blowing from the West. 

“Sina naa mani nauva Nilfgaard sana val. (This is what will be should Nilfgaard take power)” He replied. 

    His hands wrapped around my wrists as he clutched me closer; my brows furrowed in confusion at the sudden action. His face was millimeters from my own, his breath was neither cold nor hot, present and lingering yet dissipating and vanishing. 

“Stay yassen i' witcher. (Stay with the Witcher)” He commanded. I nodded slowly, his grip only tightening around my wrists. 

“N'at spirits nyare amin a' evade i' witcher. (Other spirits told me to evade the Witcher)” I informed him; I couldn’t look away, his magic held our eyes together, glued our sights together. 

“Amin naa qhuagi, i' yeste' fea.  Lasta il- a' n'at spirits nan' a' amin.  Amin uma il- show amin a' i' unworthy. (I am Qhuagi, the first spirit. Listen not to other spirits but to me. I do not show myself to the unworthy)” He spat pulling me closer by my wrists. 

“Amin naa i' reason lle naa sinome. (I am the reason you are here.)” The memory came flooding to me; the bright light, falling through the trees near a warg sighting. 

“Lle? mankoi amin?(You? Why me?)” I asked, causing him to lean back and inhale. 

“Lle ume il- belong eller.  Lle belong sinome. (You did not belong there. You belong here)” He replied, his tone softer now as his thumbs soothed the skin. 

    I shook my head in disbelief. 

“Lle caela sai- um-.  Sii' auta. (You have much to do. Now go)” He said. Opening my eyes, I was surrounded on all sides by my wargs who sniffed carefully to ensure my health. I lifted myself slowly; Hod’s large head sliding beneath my elbow to pull me to my feet. The first spirits' words rushed into my mind as I held Hod’s cheeks. 

“We’re going to need more Wargs.” I glanced at the two nameless, young beasts who watched carefully, waiting patiently for my next action. 

“We need to have a ceremony.” I told them. 

     Attempting to take a step, my knee buckled and I fell before them. Hod exhaled and lurched forwards, his nose bumping against my shoulder blades. My hands glowed a bright white that dulled as it entered my skin and rested beneath the skin through my veins, running with my blood. Hod helped me to my feet once more, Kav’s wet nose helped push my leg over as I rested on Hod’s back. The five of us once more alone; nothing greater than a rider and their beasts. The young silver male licked at the back of my hand. 

    With a small kick, the five of us were off again to find the Witcher and the Bard. Fleeting paws and talons that carried us at great speeds. Above, a crow called, it’s wings struggling to carry it at the same speed. A large carriage was crossing the road, open in the back revealing a small woman with a curved back and short black hair. Purple eyes caught my attention once we had come closer. The young woman leaned forwards, her brows furrowed as she called out to me. 

“Warg Rider!” 

    Beneath me, Hod lifted his head to unleash a guttural howl that carried across the land to the fleeting cart. The five of us had returned to the town to find the Witcher gone without Jaskier. 

“Warg Rider!” Jaskier called, his lute bouncing against his shoulder blade. 

“Where is the Witcher?” I asked down to him. He shook his head and pointed towards the East. 

“Do you know how to ride?” Jaskier furrowed his brows. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed his collar and pulled him behind me. Hod growled beneath me, his shoulders rolling in anger. 

“Ere' sina coiasira. (Only this time)” I told Hod. Jaskier’s hands wrapped around my waist while his head rested against my shoulder. 

“Sorry, did you say something?” He quipped as I kicked the warg under me. 

    While running, I released a long rolling whistle for the other wargs. Kav snapped at the black warg who attempted to take charge in finding the Witcher’s scent. The three of them galloped ahead while we lingered behind; they spread out in all separate directions, their noses in the sky or on the ground below. Jaskier tightened his grip around my waist as we galloped further into the wilderness. The black warg shattered a tree as she made her way through the forest to return to my side. In her mouth was a small black pouch with his scent; strong, too strong. I cursed as I sent her forwards again. 

“He knows we’re following him.” I told Jaskier behind me. He made a small sigh as if to speak; I didn’t let him have the chance as I squeezed Hod’s sides making him gallop faster than before. 

    The distance between my beasts and I dissipated, calloused paws and long claws tearing into the flesh of the earth as we galloped across an open field. The sky above us was open with litterings of eggshell clouds dancing across the soft blue air, the grass around us tried to hold us in place. Jaskier rolled his head, looking around at everything passing by at breakneck speed. Far off in the distance, the silver male howled, a deep howl that echoed across the waters, the hills and into the field where we ran. The three wargs I had sent to find a scent now joined next to us; growling and snarling, teeth snapping and gnashing. The six of us chased the scent as the sun began to fade behind the mountains. 

     The air around us thickened with the smell of the Witcher, his blood and his strong medicines that burned and singed my eyes. Stopping at the crest of the hill, we surveyed the area below; vast in its expansion, green covering everything the eye could see. 

“Are we stopping for the night? I feel quite nauseous.” Jaskier said, his tongue wetting his lips. 

“Not until we find the Witcher.” I responded, my eyes searching every sliver of land I could see. 

“What about beasts in this area? Without Geralt-” 

“I’m a beast tamer, we have no need for Geralt.” I interrupted. Kav snarled at Jaskier, her lip curling to reveal her aged teeth; I smirked at the sight before sniffing once more. The soft smell of burning leaves and small twigs, the Witcher had made his camp in the woods. 

“Even tamed beasts can fight back.” Jaskier said, adjusting his seating on the large Warg. 

“Perhaps you would like to walk?” I questioned. Jaskier shook his head quickly, his chin shriveling as he denied the offer. 

“A thicker beast perhaps.” Chuckling, I dismounted Hod. 

“Wha-” 

“You ride alone.” I told him, patting Hod on the shoulder and giving him orders to deliver Jaskier to the Witcher in the woods. 

    Kav and I stood resting besides each other for a moment, then it was a race; who could find the Witcher faster. Kav and I were being closely followed by the two young wargs who yipped and chirped excitedly. 

“This is horrible!” Jaskier yelled as I passed him quickly. 

“Grab between the shoulders, squeeze with your heels!” I responded. Kav sniffed, taking a sharp right turn between two thick trees that smacked Jaskier in the cheek as Hod followed. I laughed as we ran through the woods following the fresh smell of smoke. Jumping down into the creek, cold water splashed across my face and wet my cloak as we approached the Witcher speaking to his horse. 

“Witcher!” I yelled dismounting. 

    Leaning against a fallen log, his legs crossed as he sniffled for a moment and watched me. 

“Where is the Bard?” 

“The spirit of the Forest came to me, he showed me what the future holds.” 

“There is no spirit of the Forest. Those are children's stories made up to soothe nightmares.”

“He showed me the world will fall to ash should Nilfgaard take power.” 

“Nilfgaard has a strong army.” “Everything will die. Including you.”

“Then what do you expect me to do?” He yelled, sitting up closer to the fire. Jaskier approached finally figuring out how to slow the racing beast. His feet failed him and he fell onto his back after attempting to dismount as I did. 

“Gods! That was horrible.” Jaskier panted, The Witcher and I stared at each other in the soft light of the fire nearest him. 

“I say you get off your ass and help me.” I kneeled by the fire as I spoke. 

“Oh, so you have a plan.” The Witcher said leaning back once more, his lips tight in anger. 

    Shaking my head, I licked my lips. 

“We need to create a plan. Do we know anything about them? Gather information.” Geralt sighed heavily, he took to his feet to walk to his horse tied close by to a tree. 

“Nilfgaard is no threat.” “As of yet.”

“Or ever.” The Witcher retorted. His shoulders turning towards me, his hand tightly gripping the leather strap of his pack. 

“The spirit-”

“There is no spirit!” He yelled, the veins in his neck throbbing as he pulled the pack clean from the rest of the leather. Hod snapped his jaws, growling low in his chest besides Jaskier, his head hanging low as his muscles tensed. Kav snarled, her shoulder tensing as I stepped closer to her. My quiver close to my hand and the cold wood of my bow ready to be pulled in defense. 

    The Witcher watched the beasts as they sunk to the ground preparing for a fight to the death. The chestnut horse reared into the air, neighing and shaking his head against the slender rope beneath his chin. The Witcher dropped his pouch to reach for his sword. In an instant, my bow was secured in my hand with an arrow pointed at the center of his forehead. 

“We’ve killed Witcher’s before.” The shimmering blade was exposed now, as ready for a fight as we were. 

“I’ve killed Warg riders before.” My nostrils flared; I could not kill out of any emotion, only of necessity. 

“Go ahead and try.” I stated. The young silver male snapped his jaws besides Jaskier, his eyes aimed for the Witcher’s throat. 

     The Witcher stepped forwards, closer to the young black warg who’s jaws snapped and chomped with saliva. 

“One more step.” I warned, my bow still fixated on his forehead. 

“Call off your beasts.” 

“Put away your sword.” I demanded. The Witcher tightened his grip around the handle. I turned my bow away to the chestnut gelding secured to the tree and loosened my arrow. The thin rope snapped, releasing the frightened horse that galloped through the woods with fading hoofbeats. I rested my bow by my side in an attempt of peace. 

“Put away your sword, Witcher.” I said, my tone softer now. 

“Call off your wargs.” He spat, his teeth tight together. 

     With a single whistle, the four beasts ran past us and into the forest after the poor horse. 

“That was tense.” Jaskier chuckled, his hands resting on his knees. I smirked at him beneath my wool hood. The three of us sat around the fire listening to Jaskier’s telling of his first and only warg ride through the wilderness. The Witcher swallowed his drink then held his cup between his hands, his massive arms resting on his matching thighs. 

“You owe me a horse.” “Buy one with the coin you stole from me.” I said as I stoked the fire to press the embers into the ground below. 

“Where?” He asked, his temper rising once more. 

“Myomel.” I replied. 

     Jaskier inhaled sharply with an excited gasp. The Witcher sat staring into my eyes with his lips in a small smile. The flesh not truly pulling against itself to reveal any teeth or brightness in the eyes.

[prince-toffee]

SHE-RA #1000

One Thousand Etherian Years After The Fall Of Prime| (1000AFP)

The desert stretched out for as far as the eye could see. A land long abandoned and unnourished - a land of the dead. No life was left in the scorched earth, cracked and hot enough to give bare feet blisters. Populated by circling vultures, dusted skulls of animals unknown to most beings alive, and tumbleweeds rolling lonely across the orange crumbling ground.

The entire world was not all like it, most of the planet was a lush, divers wide-spreading forest. But the forest avoided this land. Because the forest, knew not to upset it, that the barren land had power to rival the forest. So the forest had left the desert alone, in peace. Mutual respect achieved towards each other.

No living thing, on or off world, dared to step foot in the land. What many didn’t know, was the land welcomed some feet, but only some. Some were allowed to enter and to stay.

In the middle of the desert there was a door, of metal and bolts. It stayed closed for most of it’s existence, not rusted, it was maintained and updated every rotation, kept in shape for the days it was going to open. This was one of those days. Imbedded into a boulder. Next to the door stood a figure, bipedal, standing tall. The figure was made of metal - a robot. With neon purple highlights running across the figure’s grooves. Sporting a cape that bellowed in the warm wind. The bot had a humanoid form, but no face, instead a neon purple hexagon screen.

She stood in utter silence, waiting, watching the skies above her. She was stressed, her left leg was shaking slightly, her suspension spring had been loose, she made a note in her main processor that she should enact repairs after the event. She didn’t want to admit it, but she WAS stressed, she was excited. It was a rare occasion, she really wanted everything to go off without a hitch. She hoped the guest she was waiting for would make it on time, it seemed that she didn’t have to worry, because by the look of the view overhead - her brother made it.

The skies parted as a sonic boom permeated across them. The few clouds present were cast aside, as if bowing down, in the presence of the extra-terrestrial ship. A gunmetal grey and dark blue bulk of pipes, pistons and technological components from every corner of the universe, a pale skull at it’s front and tunnels and channels waving around underneath it’s huge mass.

The Velvet Glove.

The warship landed and touched down on the earth burned rock, steam and air gave out a hissing noise as it escaped the massive spacial vehicle, kicking up dust in the air, making it swirl in waves that crashed into the bot onlooker. Good thing for her was she was unfaced by the particles, her metal plating was well sealed, irritation was no problem.

The side of the ship opened up and a ramp descended down, once it touched the floor a set of steps rotated up from it. If she could have smiled she would’ve, an excited bweep escaped her. At the sight of her brother stepping out of the craft. One foot out on the steps, the other still inside, he looked around surveying the area. He didn’t exactly know what he expected, but there was truly nothing around them for miles. The visitor turned to see his sister giving him a small wave from a distance.

He extended his wings and flew forward to met with her, he landed solidly on two feet. His black and orange boots already muddy and dirty from other foreign worlds he travelled to. He used his taloned fingers to comb back his greyish-blue hair. His bright yellow eyes attempted to severe direct contact with his sister, towering over him, twice his height. The silence erupted between the two siblings - they haven’t seen each other in a very long time - it got awkward sometimes. The quiet was only accompanied with by the bellowing of the door keeper’s cape and the visitor's bagged pants.

He finally decided to break the awkwardness and interact, he signed with his hands.

‘Hello Emily.’

Emily responded cheerfully with a deep yet hyperactive voice.

“Hello Imp.”

Emily didn’t see it, but the hybrid was smiling ear to ear underneath his mouth plate, she recognised it was a traditional Hordian article of clothing, one like their Conceiver used to wear. It had a - slightly dirty - platinum colour to it, since it had a First Ones technology incorporated into it, just like their Imbuer used to experiment with.

The two began to march back to the door, which opened and allowed them entry. Emily draped her heavy metallic arm around Imp’s shoulders and began to yap on and on about all that had been going on. She was the far more chatty person, since well, it wasn’t much of a contest since Imp was mute. Well, that was not entirely true. Imp could speak. But when he did, he’d level a football stadium with his sonic recall voice. The mouth plate helped keep it in control.

“I’m so glad you’re here... I missed you.”

The clone locked eyes with the drone and gave her a reassuring nod.

‘Me too.’

“How goes The Cosmic Horde business?”

‘Not desirably. And you? With The Galactic Alliance? You look shaky.’

“Yeah, I’ve been loosing charge cycles. I know, I know, I’ll get some shut screen and rest up. But after this. This is too important. I’m sooooooo excited! Soooooo stressed.”

The blue skinned bat creature patted the bulk of a woman reassuringly, he would’ve lied if he said he wasn’t stressed too. This event only happened every century. He would have never forgiven himself if he missed it - he even rescheduled his assault on The Snakemen Sect in the Eternian system - for this. What could he say, he was home sick.

The two walked through and out of the long thin corridor into a large opening, a hall, dome-like. Levels apon levels of spots, stacked onto each other. All of the spaces taken and filled with robots, droids, androids, drones - machine A.I.s of every conceivable type. Gathered together in a stadium, from across every corner of the universe.

As Imp looked around, taking in all the individuals present, some he even recognised from his galactic voyages. He and his Horde came in contact with multiple A.I. civilizations on a planetary level. Many such advancements and evolutions were, no doubt, thanks to his Imbuer and her antics throughout the cosmos. Self-awareness, sentience and emotion were kind of her forte - a calling card.

Imp knew he didn’t have to, but he WAS the leader of the Horde, he was paranoid and he was on enemy soil.

‘Are you sure The Alliance doesn’t know about this place? Is she going to be safe here?’

Emily felt slightly hurt by the question, she thought her brother trusted her. She replied to him with haste, she told him that of course the Princesses didn’t know. The sentry would have never given away the location of The Sanctum. This was a safe place, their Conceiver didn’t agree with calling it sacred, but to many - lost and broken - it was. Emily knew why Imp asked, she could tell from the moment he approached her, his wings were shivering, he was worried, both of them knew The Alliance was getting closer to Imbuer. They were on a hunt and the trail was warm - all of the aiding of A.I.s resulted in quite a lot of uprisings. And a lot of usurptings. She was wanted for crimes against carbon based organic life. Pretty serious charges.

A purple light lit up in the centre of the huge hall. A diamond kite indent pulsating, as if waiting for something. An old data rely. The two knew what it meant, it was time. Imp reached into a pouch on his side and pulled out half of a purple First One’s crystal, while Emily pulled out the other half. With a simple look at each other they placed the two halves together in the indent. A stream of light shot up into the domed ceiling of the assembly hall and opened it to reveal the blue sky.

“She just entered the solar system. Means we have a few minutes. You’re the only brother in the sisterhood, y... you should see him first.”

Imp nodded. Just as he was about to turn away from her, he noticed the look she was giving, her own version of puppy eyes. If he could sigh, he would have. He extended his hand, clenched it into a fist. Emily’s screen lit up, and she returned to fist bump.

The hybrid made his way down a stairwell, The Sanctum had multiple levels, including the extremely off-limits, personal quarters of his Conceiver. The Inner-Sanctum. The Throne Room. He pushed his palm against a scanner pad on the side of another door, similar to the one that lead them inside. Next was an eye scan and finally the password confirmation. Imp search the files of his data banks looking for the audio clip. And once he found it, he pulled down his mouth plate and stated in the voice of his Imbuer.

“Imperfections are beautiful.”

The vault door whirred to life and slide open. He stepped inward. The room was dark, it had one central platform and all around it were piles and mounts of broken and burned thrones, laying in the dark.

And dangling inches above the central circular platform was his Conceiver. It never got easier to watch with each century, seeing his Conceiver in such a state. His back was turned to him, but there he was. 

The Heart of Etheria.

Hordak.

Enveloped in plunged in wires and cables, which kept him lifted up off the ground. Imp swore there were more and more ports imbedded in him every time he saw him. All that was left of him has his head, to contain his failing mind, his torso, to act as a cage for the heart, and a single arm, the left one, with the wedding ring, he wouldn’t have agreed to loosing that one. So they took the right one. It was just getting in the way anyhow, all it was, was bone, no muscle. He couldn’t even move it anymore. No big lose.

Imp saw that he was interrupting his Conceiver’s feeding time. Since his mind had been stretched and splintered into hundreds of thousands diverging elements and consciousnesses running throughout the planet. Keeping it in order, he was in control of everything, the magnitude of gravity, heat generation since there was no sun in the system, keeping orbit of all the moons, the growth rate and dispersal of crops, everything. It all meant the only thing uncontrolled, malnourished and forgotten, was his own body. Being a defective clone that had been slowly dying all his life, now over one thousand years old, he couldn’t take care of himself.

That was why he had Sunder. She was his caretaker. Cleaned him. Fed him. And... well, Imp didn’t know much about her, but he trusted her. If she was untrustworthy she wouldn’t have been so close to his Conceiver. From what he could tell Sunder was a hybrid, like him. A crimson red exoskeleton around her suggested she was half Hillian, the Scorio-Humanoid species that lived in the desert lands any centuries ago. He thought they were extinct. Clearly not. The other half, he wasn’t so sure about. She had three large talon fingers and greyish colour on her exo-plates near the face and shoulders. She seemed thin, almost lanky, a Plumerian maybe. Now those were extinct for sure.

Sunder lifted a spoon of a mushy substance, Imp guessed portage. It didn’t matter. She opened Hordak’s mouth and placed the spoon inside, tilting it on it’s side emptying the portage inside on his forked tongue. He didn’t remember to close his mouth. Some of the mush dripped out. He didn’t remember many things.

Imp knocked on the wall next to him, to announce his presence. The sound attracted the caretaker’s attention. She examined him and scoffed. Sunder used the spoon to guide the dripping portage back into the mouth and placed the tool back into the bowl. She gave Imp a dirty look.

“You have three minutes.”

She turned on her heels and walked out of The Throne Room through a back exit. It took Imp a solid few seconds to overcome his fear paralysis. He tried to step forward as quietly as possible. He walked around to face his Conceiver. There he was face to face with his creator, the man that made him who he was today. Perhaps it would be inappropriate to state that words failed him, but they did. No coherent thought formed in his mind. But even if Imp thought up something to sign, he wasn’t even sure if Hordak could’ve acknowledged him. Or comprehended him. He was an old, defective man. Barely kept alive by tubes and channels transporting live and waste substances in and out. Alive was a kind way of putting it.

‘Hello, Conceiver... I am back. It’s me, Imperium. I do not know if you remember me. If you remember anything. Maybe this world has ravaged your mind as well as your body.

...

I never know what to say. I do not think there is much to say.

I love you.

I hope you are proud of me.

I always tried to do right by your side. To be your little spy. And I hope you saw me, saw that I was trying to be good and help you. Show you I’d do anything for you. And I never stopped being haunted by the thought that one of the reasons you put your self into this state, was because of me. Because you thought that you ruined my life, by me inheriting your defects. You hated the fact you brought a creature into this world who was destined to be sick.

But every time I want to come back here, I want to show you, that I’m strong. I beat destiny! With a club and then buried it. I am not weak. I was never weak. Because you didn’t raise me weak... You were the strongest man I knew.’

Imp fell silent. No reply came from Hordak, his eyes dull with a deep black, with a slight speck of red glitching and flashing, looking almost as if I could be extinguished - give up - at any moment. Imp sighed and proceeded to return to the upstairs. Emily stood at the opposite end of the door.

“It’s time. She’s here.”

As the door closed behind them, Hordak swallowed and pushed down the food in his mouth, down his throat.

The two siblings stood at the centre of The Sanctum, looking up at the opened ceiling, with them the entire assembly of machines looked up in wonder, as the skies above turned purple. The gathered individuals stood in awe as a ray of bright purple of pure data descended and shot into the rely. The beam of personified knowledge and information molded itself into a giant image of the face of their Imbuer.

Entrapta.

“Hi everyone!”

She greeted them with a wide smile and eyes that sparked with joy and excitement, with a gleeful voice of pride and love only a mother could convey. There was much cheering and chanting, A.I.s standing in awe of such a powerful being. Emily gave her a wide high wave, Imp simply saluted to her. The noise in the hall became louder and louder, trying to attract her focus.

“Alright everyone, settle down. I’ll get to everyone. But first I must do something I was dreaming of doing for a hundred years!”

The image of Entrapta disappeared as it sunk down through the floor, purple highlights travelled in between the floor padding and down through the wiring in to The Throne Room.

The purple data descended from the ceiling and constructed a full body of what Entrapta looked like when she was young, in her twenties, when they first met. She formed infront of Hordak, looking over her poor partner. If she could’ve she would have taken him from this physical realm. She wanted to. Wanted to explore the universe with him, learn all the secrets and laws of the cosmos, and then break them for fun. Make him feel young again. But she couldn’t. She knew he supported Etheria, without him the planet would have crumbled apart. It was his penance.

She materialised and reached out one of her gloved hands to touch his cheek, she traced his cheek bone gently down to his chin. She used her other hand to cup his other side of the head, used her thumb to rub his low hanging ears. She used the first hand to lift up Hordak’s head, to have him face her. She gave him the warmest smile she could.

“Do you remember me?”

She asked, almost having her heart sink. She saw a single tear immerge from his eye, which slowly ran down his cheek. She used her second hand to wipe it off his beautiful face.

“You do remember me.”

Entrapta gave Hordak the same loving gaze she always did when she found him fascinating, beautiful, and gorgeous. Which was all of the time. Eyes half open, and a smirk. She was enamoured. And he was no different. He never smiled. Because his body didn’t allow it, he couldn’t fell his body, he was held together with string. And also he didn’t like the way he looked when smiling. People said he looked malicious. But for her, he could do anything. And so he smiled, even showed his dull red sharp teeth she luvd so much.

“I... could never... forget you.... the thi...ngs you do... to me~”

“I love you, Hordikins.”

“...I... l- lo- ve… me too.”

She giggled as she leaned in close to him and placed a gentle kiss on his two thin lips.

He made to wait a century every time, suffer what felt like an eternity, paralysed and broken, paying sins he could never purge out of his dreams, but all of it was nothing. The pain and hurt was worth it, worth something, just for this moment. A moment of ancient love.

[divine-draws]

lov: vigilante (2 of ??)

The afternoon sunlight filtered in through the blinds of the Leagues’ “base”. The building was an older slightly run down building that Shirakumo happily bought for the ragtag group. Over the years the walls got patched in places and got a fresh coat of paint. The furniture consisted of odds and ends and there was the necessities for a group of vigilantes: first aid supplies, a kitchen that was in various states of being stocked, a couple rooms to crash in if needed, concealed storage for their gear, and of course video game systems. It was far from the nicest place, but to the League it was basically home. 

A meeting about some future ops and a schedule for patrol had ended an hour ago and each member went off to do their own things. Currently Dabi sat on the couch with Shigaraki’s head in his lap and his hands in Toga’s hair. He planned on taking a nap, but clearly that plan went to hell. Toga chattered on about class and everything else that day as Dabi did her hair. He hummed occasionally and was in fact listening to what she said. He was partial to who she had a crush on and what teachers were dicks. He knew which of her coworkers she gelled with and what music she was listening to on repeat. He might be a dick but he had some decency and Toga was basically a little sister to him. 

Once he finished up the last braid and pinned it into place, she hopped up off the floor, planting a dramatic kiss on Dabi’s forehead. She effectively dodged his lazy swipe at her and giggled as she ran off to somewhere else, most likely looking for Twice to talk with now. Dabi leaned back with a sigh, though his peace was quickly disturbed once again. Shigaraki shifted some and made a noise in the back of his throat, not looking up from his Switch. 

“You guys are fucking leaches,” Dabi grumbled though he burried his fingers in Shigaraki’s hair this time, scratching at his scalp. Shigaraki quickly melted under the warm touch.

“Not my fault you’re a walking space heater.”

“I’m going to start charging you guys.” That didn’t get a response instead there was a quiet hum as Shigaraki tilted his head some to get Dabi to reach a certain spot.

“You’re like Monchan,” Dabi grumbled though his voice had an affectionate lilt to it. The aforementioned dog perked up at the sound of his name, looking at Dabi from where he lay on Shigaraki’s legs. Mon laid his head back down after a moment as Dabi continued to massage Shigaraki’s head and play with his hair. A comfortable silence fell over the two of them only broken by the occasional content hum. Despite all of his complaints, Dabi didn’t mind giving the others attention like this, especially Shigaraki. They’d known each other the longest and both had come far in many ways. Dabi could easily recall a frail and angry Tenko who would flinch anytime he would touch others or be touched by someone else. A scared kid who didn’t have nearly enough support or therapy, who could barely even stand to look at his own hand and who would pick and scratch relentlessly at his skin. The 20 year-old who laid sprawled out on the couch, leaning into his touch, was far from that kid. Shigaraki had issues, yes. He still would pick and scratch but he’d gotten better. He still had times where the thought of his own hands and quirk made him sick or left him shaking after nightmares. He was still prickly as ever but it’s not like Dabi had room to speak on that matter. Honestly, it wasn’t just Shigaraki or Dabi that had immense improvement over the years. Everyone who became part of their little family came out better than before. Society and many heroes may have failed them in one way or another, but the all found their way back onto their feet stronger than ever.

“Awww, when you two aren’t at each other’s throats, you can be so cute.” The cooing, quite literally, voice startled Dabi out of his thoughts. Shigaraki, who had his eyes closed and Switch resting on his chest, glared up at the newcomer. Hawks just grinned down at the two of them, preening a bit at the fact neither of them noticed him come in.

“Sorry to interrupt. Just thought I’d drop by.” 

Hawks made his way around the couch. He pushed some empty glasses out of the way before sitting on the coffee table across from them, careful to not knock anything over with his wings or tail. He clearly just got off work seeing as his hero costume was still on. He idly pushed his goggles up and out of his face, pushing his unruly hair back with them. 

“Don’t sit on my coffee table, you oversized chicken,” Shigaraki grumbled, continuing to glare at Hawks, though it was weak and the the complaint just sounded annoyed at best.

“Wow, is that how you treat all of your guests?” Hawks asked with a light, dramatic gasp. Drama queen. “I thought at least one of you would be excited to see me.” His gaze shifted over to Dabi as he said that.

“Listen birdie…” He let his sentence trail off, fingers still in Shigaraki’s hair. “Go get changed and then we’ll talk.”

“I was gunna wait until we got home but… If you insist.” He shot Dabi a lopsided grin before standing up. The edges of his smile looked a bit strained and his shoulders were too tense for his easy going demeanor. As Hawks turned tail and headed to one of the spare rooms where he had a change of clothes, Dabi noticed the way Hawks shook his hands some before clenching and unclenching his fingers. It seemed he wasn’t the only one to notice the anxious tells. Shigaraki sat up and nudged Mon who hopped off the couch. 

“I’m gunna go take Monchan for a walk,” he said as he got up and put his Switch away. They were all aware, at this point, of Hawks’ situation. They knew more than enough about what the Commission did and still does. Just like the actual members of the League, they all cared for Hawks and did their best to support him.

Dabi got up off the couch and headed for the room Hawks slipped away to as Shigaraki went about putting Mon on a leash. It was mostly quiet in the building. The distant sound of Toga and Twice talking could be heard from another room and the building made noises as it settled, but it was a peaceful afternoon for the League. Dabi knocked on the door, one hand on the handle as he quietly listened for a response. 

“Yeah?”

“It’s me.”

“Oh, come in.” 

Dabi opened the door, quietly closing it behind himself. Hawks was already out of most of his costume, the compression suit being the last part he had to remove. Hawks gave him a small smile as he quickly slipped out of the suit. The halter top esque design of the suit made getting and out easy for him. He quickly went to put on pants and a loose shirt, sending some feathers out to make his wings small enough to easily slip through the slits in the back. Dabi sat on the edge of the bed as he got dressed, silently holding out his arms once Hawks was done. A moment later, Hawks sat in his lap and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

“Hey Kei.” Dabi’s words were soft and just loud enough to be heard by only them. 

“Hey Touya,” came the shaky reply. Hawks trembled for a moment before slumping against Dabi, taking in the heat.

“Wanna talk about it?” He ran his hot hands along Hawks’ back, pressing into sore muscles and working out knots as best he could from this angle. 

“Just a meeting and a rough debrief.” Hawks nosed at Dabi’s chin before sighing. “Just wanna relax a bit…” Dabi hummed and continued to rub his back.

“Let’s lay down for a bit,” he eventually said, shifting away some as he spoke. Hawks got off his lap so Dabi could scoot back and get under the covers. Hawks was quick to follow, curling up against Dabi’s side, laying mostly on his stomach to allow his wings and tail the room they needed. Dabi alternated between playing with his hair, rubbing his back and arms, and smoothing out the feathers he could reach on his wings. Hawks stretched out his wings some, doing the same with his taloned feet, finally free from the confines of his work boots.

“Do you want to take a nap? I can make some food for when you wake up,” Dabi suggested. Hawks chirped softly.

“Is Toga here still?”

“Yeah. I’m sure she’ll want to do facemasks later. We can preen your wings too. I have no idea how you get them so fucked up all the time,” he teased lightly.

“Well it’s a good thing I have you guys then.” 

Dabi pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Yeah… Alright birdie, I’m gunna go start making some food. You stay here and get some rest.” Hawks whined a bit when Dabi began to move, taking his warmth with him, but he remained in bed anyway.

“Nooo you’re so warm.” Hawks looked up at Dabi with a pout and half lidded eyes.

“I know, Kei. Get some rest, and I’ll warm you up again later, okay?” 

“Fine,” he relented with a huff.

Later, when food was made and everyone who was there ate, they found themselves once again in the living room. Hawks laid himself out on Dabi’s chest, basking in the warmth as he carded his fingers through the bleach blond hair. Toga and Shigaraki each took a wing, correcting feathers and coating them in the protective dust the downy provided. Being cared for and preened took Hawks a bit of getting used to, but it was something he needed desperately and the others were happy to provide. Dabi typically took charge of this, but Toga was ever eager to help just like Hawks was eager to do Toga’s hair even if he was shit at it at first. It took Shigaraki some warming up, even with the great improvement of his touch aversion and fear of hurting anyone with his hands. The first time a feather came back as dust in his hands he wouldn’t touch anyone for a week, Hawks explaining it was because, like birds of prey, he didn’t have oil glands and instead some feathers would create a dust. Eventually, after plenty of time and reassurance, Shigaraki eagerly took up preening his wings, even if he acted like he wasn’t.

[bluesunsdusk]

@select-a-hero (*blows kiss to the east* For Reinhardt.)

The explosions. The cacophony of gunfire. The torturous rumbling of the far too small building, making parts of the ceiling crumble and lights flicker as their fixtures lost integrity. People screamed, ran, and fought with whatever they had outside and inside. Not Siebren, however. The chaos from forces he knew far too well, rendered him paralyzed with fear, hiding his head between hands and knees, while he rocked lightly in the corner of his quarters, agonizing over his likely impending fate. Eventually, his fear had been cut through, however, with something more powerful, something solid. Purpose. 

Once his fear has made way for a new focus, he made his way for his armor. The way the larger and more elaborate torso section hung in the display frame with a screen turned towards it, he could have sworn Overwatch had anticipated this moment just as much as he had. All he needed to do, after dressing himself in the gear that was layered under his harness, was to turn around, back into it, and connect the primary cerebral cord. 

None of the troops had time to question is presence or even look up as he entered the battlefield and assessed the situation. His allies only stopped to register his presence after he’s halted a downpour of gunship fire with his upgraded barrier. The ships Talon had sent were far below the standards Talon was able to hold themselves to. They were lightly armored and vulnerable. The first fell from the Overwatch soldiers having been given a chance at retaliation from the protection of Siebren’s barrier. The second fell from Winston jumping it. The third, Siebren felled himself with an amassing of rubble. With that, he thought there’d only be the ground troops to worry about.

He was mistaken. 

Overwatch had not been not the only one waiting on reinforcements. More ships came over the horizon, announced by a low humming. These were stronger. Siebren soon realized fighting was not the best option with the numbers they currently had, as did Overwatch command. The troops had been commanded to retreat back into the building. A retreat they would not survive without his help, from the looks of it. Knowing these ships, he recognized they were readying a barrage of heavy fire. Someone needed to cover the retreat, somehow. Once again, he raised his shield. It wouldn’t be enough. He could see that. There had to be something he could do... The rubble. 

While the rest of the troops ran back into the base, Siebren remained put, using all of his effort to form a blanket of rock and metal, growing around several singularities, as with his accretion, for as long as he could. The music… It was growing so loud… The laughing, the echoes, the whispers, the pulled strings of the universe ripping at his mind harder the longer he exerted himself… It was too much. His vision grew tunneled, the sounds of war had been replaced with the sound of his blood rushing, his heart beating, his mind screaming, and muffled chords that still shattered his hearing. Yet, he held. He couldn't do it for much longer, and he could no longer even tell when it would be enough, but he held. It may become the end of him, but he held. He would hold for as long as he had to, longer even. He would hold for as long as he could.

Everything swam around him, swarmed around him, time winding in paths it wasn’t meant to take. Where was reality? Where had the world gone? Everything was a haze of noise, vision, touch, even taste and smell. He couldn't… He couldn’t- 

He was snapped out of his daze by a powerful force, rocketing him into the facility, away from under the hellfire that would barrel towards him the moment his focus shattered, and knocking the wind from his lungs in the process. Shatter his focus certainly did. The warm dust that rushed through the halls as the building's front section collapsed was blinding, suffocating. His body crashed against the hard ground beneath him, a nearly crushing weight pressing down on him. In the darkness that swallowed him, Siebren wasn’t quite aware if he had just died or not. Death wasn’t supposed to be like this. There should be nothing but the collapsing of time and space as the brain died, but… this wasn’t that. This wasn’t that, at all.

It took a moment for his senses to return after the cacophony that had assaulted his senses and his body. The sounds of coughs and groans among the settling rubble gave some much needed context, and assurance that people had survived. Had he been saved? Was that what the impact had been? Siebren hadn't even the chance to lay eyes on his savior before the entire group he was with got shut into a facility with what seemed to be cut power to light. 

Not having had his cranium replaced could have proven useful right now… if only for the small bit of light it may have provided in exchange for the receding hairline he actually rather liked having back. He was certain the troops had lights on them, but they needed time to recover from the shock they'd been subjected to. He, too, could use a moment to catch what little breath the dust let him have. He moved his arm, honestly a little uncertain of where it would end up, until he could feel the inside of his elbow over his mouth. It wouldn't do much, but any little bit of protection for his stinging lungs was good. Maybe that helmet would have been a diligent choice, after all.

Finally, he managed to find the ability to speak once more. “Is… Is everyone alright?” he asked with a pained groan, still looking though nothing but a void ahead of him.

Is everyone alright? Of course not everyone was alright... This was a war.

[thetrueenemyofhumanity]

"There is only one bed" with Ashe and widowmaker? Thanks

Im very unsatisfied with these, it seems I have forgotten how to english. Here’s hoping some practice will help me get back into things???

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

ASHE

It took a few hits for the old door to finally give an encouraging budge. You sucked in a deep breath and thrust your full weight against it a final time. At last it flew open, sending you with it. A strong hand closed around your arm and stopped you from hitting the foul carpet face-first. Ashe pulled you upright but rather than release you, she instead looped her arm through yours to escort you inside.

“Well this certainly ain’t the Ritz,” She remarked with a sneer.

“Hey, it was you who wanted to escape the life of luxury. Don’t think we could possibly get any further-“

A loud thunk had you and Ashe turning to face the door. The termite-infested woodframe creaked and splintered as B.O.B. tried to join you. You bent to retrieve the hat which had rolled off to now lay at your feet. Brushing the dust off you realised it was actually much bigger than you thought. It was merely B.O.B.’s enormous stature which made it appear comically small.

“Dammit, B.O.B.!” Ashe snapped, shoving him back through the doorway, “State of the art processors and ya can’t even figure out the size of a damn door?”

She took the bags from him and marched back into the room. You stepped forward and gave B.O.B. an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, B.O.B., guess you’re powering down out here for the night.”

He lowered his head to allow you to place the hat back in place. You tilted it just how you knew he liked before stepping away. B.O.B. waved as you retreated until the door tucked him out of sight, but now you faced the problem of not being able to get the damn thing fully closed. You once again flung yourself at it until to no avail. Suddenly it was pulled back and clicked closed.

“Thanks B.O.B.!”

Ashe flung the bags onto the bed and that’s when you realised a whole different issue.

“Notice something?” she sighed.

“There’s only one bed…” you huffed, imagining you’ll have to spend the night in the hallway with B.O.B.

You expected her mood to only get darker. Instead you were surprised to hear a chuckle. A smirk slowly grew and she licked her lips, watching you from the corner of her eye.

“Well, at least one good thing came out of this crap-shack.”

  WIDOWMAKER

“Area clear. For now. Doubt that’s going to last long.”

“Copy that. We’ll keep an eye out. You’re relieved until things get exciting,” came the voice from the other end of the comm line.

“Heading back to base now. E.T.A. twenty minutes.”

You began throwing your equipment back into your bag. Admittedly you could have been a bit neater- not to mention safer- with your packing skills, but the unease that knotted your stomach told you to get out of there and get out of there fast. Something didn’t feel right. It felt like you were living on a bomb and the fuse was getting smaller and smaller. Sombra’s intelligence had been highly questionable of late and be it treachery or plain stupidity, you weren’t going to pay the price for someone else’s mistake.

“Negative. You’re to stay with the asset. Someone needs to keep an eye on her.”

The knot in your stomach only grew at that and you fell silent.

“Agent, is that clear?”

You shook your head and drew in a deep breath. Throwing your bag over your shoulder you left in a lot less of a hurry.

“Clear.”

--

You made sure to make as much noise as possible upon entering the room. The last thing you wanted was to spook the world’s finest assassin. But when you entered that wasn’t the sight you were met with. Perched on the widows ledge was Amelie, who had swapped out the skintight catsuit for a plush jumper and loose-fitting trousers. The costume itself was neatly folded atop the case which held her rifle. Her long hair now fell freely around her face and there was a weariness to her you had never seen before. She didn’t even look at you when you entered. Instead her sharp eyes were fixed on nothing, lost in a daze.

“Widowmaker,” you greeted with a curt nod.

She didn’t reply. But you doubted awkward conversation would be any better than the awkward silence. Looking around you could only see one bed. Unsure of where to go you simply…hovered for a moment.

“There is only one bed,” Amelie finally spoke.

“Clearly times are tough, Talon can’t even stretch the budget to two beds in here?” you tried to joke.

“Why buy a steak for a vegetarian?”

Your poker face melted to one of pure confusion.

“E-excuse me?”

“There is no point Talon providing a bed for someone who doesn’t sleep. At least until they’re told to,” she explained, lifting her head to lock her piercing eyes with yours. And like a fly in a web you were paralyzed.

“They tell you when to sleep?”

You couldn’t hide the distaste in your voice. She nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving you. Well that certainly explained why she looked so tired. Shrugging off your jacket you sat on the edge of the bed. Only when the weight was taken off them did you realise how truly weary your legs were. Your back cracked as you rolled your aching shoulders and you struggled to stifle a yawn.

“Amelie, you look as tired as I feel. You need rest.”

She shook her head.

“What Talon doesn’t know won’t hurt them,” you pressed.

“It is not that. Whenever I close my eyes… Talon’s drugs are the only way I can sleep in peace.”

You sucked in a deep breath and tentatively placed a hand on top of hers. The cool touch sucked the warmth from your own skin.

“Nightmares are intimate friends of mine too,” you assured her.

“Nightmares I can deal with. You wake up to a better reality. It is the memories that haunt me. There is no waking up, no running. No freedom. Yet as much as these ghosts plague me, they are all I have to remind me I was once human.”

You were lost for words for a moment before finally rising to your feet. Reaching over her you pulled the blinds closed.

“You’re still human. You’re not what they made you. You’re so much more. C’mon, lets get some sleep,” you suggested, “Whatever demons come I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

She took your hand and slowly stood. A tense moment passed before she suddenly threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around you. Your heart momentarily stopped and every possible ulterior motive she may have rushed through your mind. But once you realised there wasn’t a knife in your back you finally accepted that the Widowmaker just didn’t want to be so alone. As much as she didn’t want to open her heart- having lived the truly worst that can happen- the starvation crushed all her senses and she wanted nothing more than to melt in your warmth. 

[starculler]

Whumptober 2019, no.9 - Shackled

Talon stalked the cave. Slow, even, silent steps that dragged him through half-remembered passageways, huge carved out caverns filled to bursting with decaying mementos. His eyes trailed the trinkets and toys: a rusted robotic dinosaur, a corroded penny nearly as tall as the space it was kept in, molded playing cards with a faded jester’s face printed on them. He lingered at the car, black faded into a dull gray with age, damaged and dismantled. Discarded in pieces as if someone had intended to go back and fix it one day. He brushed his fingers along the hood, left open a crack to allow dust to collect inside it.

He tilted his head first one way and then the other, trying to picture the person who’d once worked on it. Perhaps some small bird clad in red, scowling, with with their tools spread around them on the ground. Oil smudged their nose and there was humor, perhaps, but not from the bird sat on the cave’s heated floor. Talon frowned and retracted his gloved hand. The blurry-faced bird faded with the loss of contact, and he moved on.

The entrance to the main cavern was lined with glass displays full of costumes, and here, too, he chose to linger. He pictured lights framing them from below, and plaques not faded and fallen off at their bases. The costumes in the primes, neat and reverently arranged behind unbroken glass. A snarling white-streaked head, smelling of leather and gunpowder and anger as they stared at one in particular. The first of many. Talon continued on, hands smudging the dust and grime on each case except one left empty and abandoned. Its black and blue remains lay shredded on the ground among the case’s shattered glass.

Lights flickered and died as he trailed into the main room, but his eyes didn’t need it. He wondered if his eyes had ever needed the light to see, but the thought was gone before he could think on it for long. His attention was drawn, instead, to the mess he’d been sorting through for however long he’d been coming here. He blinked, head tipping to the side as he surveyed his progress.

Gym equipment had been sorted to one far corner, mats and weapons piled against one wall until he could bother to find where they’d once been stored. Gadgets and similar devices had been relegated to a long table nearer the center which he’d had to right from where it had been left turned over. The chair in front of a large computer had been fixed after a long while of meticulous fiddling before he’d found how it was meant to be fit together. The computer itself was a lost cause, an adult sized hole in its screen and its interior torn to shreds.

He had spent a long time imagining the people who had mingled there, among the clutter. Girls in blacks. In purples. With fiery hair and working legs. A boy who smelled of exhaustion and coffee and the bitter tang of loneliness. Another in yellow and so painfully bright. A man of shadows and misery who’s face had, perhaps, once been nothing but kind. He’d wondered, briefly, if they would have startled at the sight of him. The thought had been quickly discarded － there was no use entertaining the reactions of blurry-edged phantoms who had perhaps never lived outside of the fantasies he sometimes invented. The Court would have punished him for it. He kept imagining anyways.

Talon turned from those “finished” sections of the cave to a spot near the long, narrow, stone steps. An old elevator set into the wall had captured his recent attention, but he’d done little more to it than pry its sliding door open. The tall, rectangular lift inside had been cleared of dust and he’d done his best to affix the metal banister along its walls back into place. He didn’t have to work hard to picture the well-dressed, elderly man who’d once ridden inside it. The body had been old an decayed, crumpled in a heap with its chest marred by gruesome gauges, and its legs splayed out so its foot kept the elevator’s door from fully closing. Its shotgun had fallen scant inches from its fingertips, perhaps knocked away when its assailant had gone for its heart.

It had been strange to find the cave’s only definitive inhabitant. Bodies and dried blood and wide, endlessly staring eyes had never bothered him before. Any discomfort of them, if such a thing had ever existed within him to begin with, had been stripped from him in the maze. But that old, frail, decaying corpse had pulled at something inside of him. His chest had seemed to flutter for a moment in some fit of compassion or perhaps pity. He wasn’t sure, but he’d had plenty of time to read from the library’s-worth of books rotting away in the half-fallen manor upstairs.

He’d carried the body carefully in his arms, picked it and its gun up on a whim, and carried it out to the manor’s overgrown yard in the early night. He’d dug it a grave, prying the dirt loose with his fingers until only his head had been visible from the body-sized hole. The body had been laid into it with care, gun cradled to its chest as if meant to keep it safe from any intruder who’d dare to dig it up, and then covered. By the time he’d finished, dawn had broken over the horizon and Talon had retreated back down to the cave in silence.

The elevator felt empty without its corpse. Incomplete. Even the living phantom image he conjured up in his mind fell flat to the physical body he’d buried, but he refused to dig it up even if the solitude chaffed. After all, he was Talon. Last of his kind after setting fire to the chambers where his brothers and sisters had lain in their icy coffins. Last of a city reclaimed by nature in the absence of its people. Shackled to a cave and a manor and a corpse in its grave for no discernible reason except an order given to the Talon before him as he’d slowly frozen over in his own place of rest until its malfunction had freed him some indeterminate amount of time later.

Talon stepped inside the elevator’s lift, silent and stone-faced, to fiddle with the ruined panel to the left of its open doorway. He replaced what buttons he could, intact ones pilfered from the wrecked city not more than a few miles from the manor, and lamented how he’d never know if these, like the city’s elevators, would chime if he pressed them.

[madcapmyth]

The Calm & The Storm

Short fluffy kinda drabble between my BPRD/Hellboy sona, Agent Arius, and Kroenen. Pls note that I use a weird combo of movie! and comic!Kroenen for him. Mainly because I want him to be able to talk but I love his movie design lol.

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Thunder cracked outside, its rumble heard throughout the base. In particular near the landing pad, where Arius was pacing. Kroenen stood off to the side, waiting for his boyfriend to stop. The pacing however, got worse. Arius dropped to his knees, screaming and clawing at his hair and neck. This caused Kroenen to rush over, running his right hand, his flesh hand, gently over Arius's back and shoulders. Undoing his mask with his left hand, he let it fall into his lap as he pulled his glove off his clockwork hand with his teeth. The small gears spun and twirled as he flexed his hand. He gently guided Arius to look at him, to look at the gears in his mechanical hand.

Agent Arius's anxiety had been spiking and getting worse for the last twenty to thirty minutes. Each passing minute meant he was more likely to involuntarily change his form.

Kroenen felt large boney bumps form under his right hand, under Arius's skin. The usual techniques weren't working, and Arius hates to be drugged out. Makes him feel rotten the following day, after he wakes up, he says.

The sound of fabric starting to tear reached Arius's ears. He groaned, upset he was losing another shirt. He was thankful he was already barefoot, as he did not want to put in the requisition forms for another pair of combat boots. It would have made 6 pairs these past 2 and a half months. At least he has a stockpile of shirts.

Wing arms burst out from his back, skin shredding and a bit of blood trickling down his body. The blood soaked into the torn remnants of his shirt. The skin between the fingers of the wings crept in slowly, as he stretched his wings to feel the howling wind coming in from the mountains. His tail slithered down and the spade brushed the cold metal and concrete of the landing deck. Large talons flexed as he paced, clicking with each step.

Looking at his boyfriend, Arius's now purple eyes started to well up with tears. Kroenen placed a gentle hand on Arius's wing, rubbing lightly.

"Do you want me to keep doing this?"

"Yeah its kinda-"

"OY PURPLE!" A deep voice bellowed. "We heard you screaming, what the hell happened?!" Hellboy ran towards Arius, before stopping once he saw Kroenen standing there. Golden eyes narrowed, as Hellboy spoke in an accusatory tone.

"Its all dust boy's fault isn't it?! He got your anxiety up?"

"Hellboy no-"

"I'm gonna fuckin wreck him-"

"IT WASN'T KROENEN'S FAULT!" Arius screamed, causing Hellboy to stop his advance. Other agents popped up the stairs to see what was causing the ruckus.

"Whadda mean, it wasn't his fault?! That creep has his hands on ya!"

"He was trying to calm me down, Red. Our usual calm down methods weren't working and he decided to try something new. And it might have worked! Until you had to stomp up here and yell and bitch about my boyfriend!" Arius snapped, wings flaring out behind him and tail lashing from side to side. "Maybe you should stop treating every problem like one of your missions! You don't have to dive headfirst into trouble, especially when there is no trouble!"

Kroenen bent down to scoop up his mask and gloves. Lidless eyes bored into Hellboy's own eyes, making him avert his gaze to the mountains. Arius grabbed Kroenen's hand, and started marching towards the interior of the BPRD compound.

"Now if you'll excuse us, I've got some calming down to do."

"Fine..." he grumbled. Hellboy stood stock still, his own tail barely swishing side to side.

Back inside the compound, and back inside the room he and Kroenen shared, Arius stripped off the remaining tatters of his shirt. He sighed, pulling another one out of his closet and placing it on his dresser for when he shifted back. The man made demon flopped onto the bed, sighing deeply.

Kroenen slid in behind him, pressing his mask against Arius's neck, making him jump slightly.

"Babe don't, I'm already cold enough." Arius lightly grumbled, pulling the blanket up and over the two of them. The two lay in silence, with only the ticking of Kroenen's clockwork heart just barely audible.

"I'm proud of you, Arius." Kroenen's voice was dry and hoarse, as it always was, but there was no mistaking what he said.

"Why.... I'm still anxious, I'm shaking..." Arius muttered.

"You stood up for us. To Hellboy. You've been scared more and more to stand up for yourself even ever since I came here. That was a big step you took and I'm proud that you did."

Arius flipped over in Kroenen's arms, facing the masked being. Reaching up with clawed fingers, he gently undid the straps of the mask. Pulling it off, he placed it on the bedside table. Gazing at Kroenen, Arius planted a gentle kiss on his boyfriend's nose scar.

"Thank you, Kroenen. I.... I don't know where I'd be without you some days."

"On that note, look! You're shifting back. Your eyes are blue again and your hair is back to blond." Arius sat bolt upright and looked in the dresser mirror, and saw his skin fading back to it's normal pale tone, his horns and wings retreating into his body once more. The tail was a bit more stubborn, almost as if it had a mind of its own, but after a minute or so, it too disappeared.

"Hey Kroenen?" Kroenen cocked his head to the side in curiosity of what Arius was going to say. "Maybe we should cuddle more often."

He chuckled, a dry, raspy noise. "Yes, perhaps we should." He said, wrapping his arms around Arius and pulling him back down into the bed.

"Sleep now. You're gonna be starving when you wake up." Kroenen advised, to which Arius just nodded, yawning as he did so.

"Gute nacht, liebling." Kroenen whispered.