#check double with your source if its the rights species

[spice-chan]

Untold

description - king Katsuki Bakugo, who’s desperate in wanting to get closer to his mate hatches a morally dubious plan to do so. Let himself get injured ? check. Convince his clueless mate that his dragon needs to breed her otherwise he will rampage ? check. 

warnings - Bakugo is soo bad at feelings. loss of virginity (m&f), dom bakugo, vaginal penetration, dirty talk ?, clueless reader, breeding kink, slight lactation kink but reader isnt lactating, implied brain washing. Bakugo and his dragon are like two separate entities who existing in one body. feral baku. mentions of poison and injury. Manipulation. slight dub con if you squint.

The first time Bakugo met you was after a meeting at your kingdom. A meeting he was more than disgruntled at having to attend. 

You were the epitome of angelic, you had pretty, curly hair that framed your face, with bright (e/c) eyes that glistened in the sun as you helped a maid up. There was not an ounce of supercility or contempt in your humble smile. He didn’t even think you were a royal at first glance from how willing you were to touch and talk to someone so beneath you societally. 

Not that he thought a lot at that moment, because the only thought going through his head was - 

Mine. 

That, he made you. 

At least in the eyes of the nations of the dragons and your home land. 

Not in the eyes of his dragon, the fiery beast who resided within him, and neither in his, because he craves you in intimate ways that he has yet to experience, let alone experience with you, his wife. 

He promptly negotiated a marriage with your family who approved, and married you a week after. 

You didn’t get a say in it, in fact, you only spoke to him a few times before the knot was tied. It physically pained Katsuki to see the resent in your eyes. 

You slept next to him everyday, but he knew you wished to be far, far away from him. 

The closer his body got to you, the further you shrunk away from him. It was pitiful, how your small and fragile body that was made for him, scurried far away from the body made to protect it, the body it should be lusting over.

He was well endowed, a very tall man with muscles earned through hours of grueling training, yet the only thing you graced him with was a polite smile as you passed him in the hallway. 

He loved you, gosh, he loves you so bad. But you can’t see it, can you ? You just see a man who you were forced to marry within a week who ripped you away from your life. A strange, barbaric man who growls when things don’t go his way and sniffs your hair after he deems that you’ve fallen asleep. 

And Bakugo has a plan to finally make you want and need him. 

…….. 

The sunlight hasn’t yet painted the sky a yellow hue, yet Katsuki somehow finds himself waking up. He stirs awake, his eyes opening languidly as his over sensitive nose seeks the smell of his mate. He turns his head to your side on instinct, and finds you snoozing without a care, your chest rhythmically moving up and done, and adorable features relaxed and vulnerable. 

Vulnerable, yet you sleep so far from him, the distance between the both of you almost reminds him of the sun and moon. 

When he married you, he bit your neck to mark you, making you officially his mate. Bound to him for life. He could deduce that you are his soulmate, a phenomenon among dragon species. They were a powerful nation, therefore to make sure their numbers don’t go out of control yet stay stable, they were gifted with soulmates. The only person they will feel sexual attraction to during their long, long lives. Their mate will age like them and the children, if one parent wasn’t of dragon kin, will still turn out full dragons. Their blood is powerful. No wonder your parents were so eager to tie themselves with him. He feels slightly furious when he remembers how eager they were to marry you off, did you live with this sort of apathy from your parents your whole life ? 

Well, it doesn’t matter how those bastards treated you because you are with him now. Besides, their uncaringness made the marriage easier and smoother. 

He turns to face you, and finds you sleeping with your back to him, your hair looks like a pretty mess across the pillow. Do you feel trapped ? Do you sometimes lament on the years you will have to stay bound to him ? 

But questions fly out of his head when his eyes stray to your form. He pants softly in need, his dragon clawing at him to claim you. Your silk nightdress did little to cover your voluptuous ass, and the spaghetti straps did little to cover your spilling cleavage, and least from what he could see from your back to him. He feels incredibly robbed about not being able to touch you right now. But he didn’t want you to hate him…

He turns his head away from you and steadies his breathing, but the tent in his pants stood proudly. Great, another day of rubbing one for you instead of ravishing you… 

…………

The first step of his plan to get closer to you is to prey on your kindness. He’s going to let himself get injured enough to trigger his dragon’s self defence mechanism. That means not letting anyone get close to him, because he classifies everyone as a threat, except his mate, of course. 

Now, how to do it without losing his honour as the dragon king is the true question. 

Well, the answer to that is one of his counsel man. A mad cowardly enough to run away from a fight with the dragon king, and lacking honour enough to try and poison him at the same time for a few thousand quads. 

………….. 

Bakugo holds his sword in a lackadaisical manner, staring at the man across from him who shivers from his intense glare. Bakugo rolls his blood red eyes, his mouth forming into a sneer. Look what finding his mate had reduced him to. 

A vulnerable mess. 

The training ground is filled with spectators who stopped their own training to watch their king fight, a necessary thing for his plan to work. He’ll have you in his arms in no time. 

His dragon rumbled in happiness at the thought of having his mate. 

The fight starts, with steel meeting steel, a minute goes by, and just as discussed, the man lets go of his sword, forfeits and bows down. 

Then grabs a sharp dagger from his pocket, coated with paralyzing poison, and slashes it across Bakugo’s chest before making a run. 

Katsuki feels his limbs become heavier, falling to the floor as the large opening in his chest bleeds and burns. Had he not been a dragon, this cut would have been fatale to his mortality. His pupils dilate as the sound of growls fill the air. His simple minded beast trying to warn the bystanders to keep clear of him or else. His dragon desperately tries to get it’s host to move, and when the beast tries to take over the host in order to survive, Bakugo gladly let’s it. 

The wiser of the bunch go to fetch the queen, their hearts hammering across their chests in anxiousness as a murderous aura surrounds their king, which is fatal to them. A dragon in this state will kill anything and everything around it to ensure its survival. His abilities, which are already deadly, will be doubled once the effects of the poison wear off. They can’t run, that would be shameful, but they can hope that the queen gets here in time. 

Deadly and furious growls fill the air, their eyes keep on switching from looking at the imminent threat that is their king and their possible saviour which is his queen. 

His toes and fingers move, and Bakugo’s reptilian eyes lock on them in clear warning. No sight of you. His claws elongate and his teeth lengthen and sharpen, their size enough to rip a chunk of meat clear of a man's chest. No sight of you. 

His limbs are slowly becoming mobile again, but too fast for the spectators' liking. No sight of you. 

They were slowly succumbing to their gruesome fates. 

His feet, which have regained mobility, along with his arms, support his previously supine body into a standing position. His enraged face faced them, his fiery throat lightening up and ready to erupt them into flames. And he was about to, until a -

“Katsuki !” 

He abruptly turns towards the sound, familiarity oozing from every syllable of the soft angelic voice that called him. 

His reptilian eyes lock on her neck, recognizing the soft pink marks that mar her neck as his own. 

“Mate.” His guttural voice spoke, the sound so deep and raw it was almost inhuman. 

You were slightly taken aback that he recognised you in this state. Dragons must really put their mates on a higher pedestal, especially considering how he was about to toast those men… 

“Mate” he repeats. He turned to the strangers, growling at them with newfound vigour. They are a threat to his mate. Kill threat. 

“No. No, no.” You said in horror, waving your hands back and forth to get his attention away. 

You slowly walk to him, your steps tentative as you gauge his reaction. He seems confused, and he remained unresponsive, at least verbally. 

You steps continue until you you could feel the warmth emanating from his body, and that's when his arms circle you and pull you possessively to his chest, protecting you as he shields your face away, still wary of the ‘threats’. 

“Katsuki, what happened, why are you trying to kill them ?” You speak patiently, trying to ignore how close you are to him. This is the closests you’d ever been to a male, and your face speaks volumes of that. 

“Kill me. Kill mate.” 

You quirk a brow in confusion. “What do you mean ? Why are you speaking like this Katsuki ?” 

“No Katsuki. Me !” He growls in frustration, looking into your eyes desperately, his eyes seem more… red- more animalistic somehow. Even when he looked into your eyes, he still kept an eye on the men nearby, who for some fucking reason are still here. 

“Why are you guys just standing here ?! He obviously wants to kill you, go !” You command, your soft voice raising into an octave none of them ever heard from their kind queen. 

The earth shook as a booming voice rocks the earth, you look left and right, trying to find the source of it when you realize that you are hugging the source. 

Katsuki’s skin fills with leathery patches of red, and his elongated nails pierce your skin as he holds you protectively, his eyes try to find the slightest movement in his surroundings. So he can eliminate it. 

“Mate. Angry.” 

You were starting to understand something. 

“Oh. Are you the dragon ?” You ask,  once again trying to direct his attention to you. 

He nods, his features relaxing slightly as he looks at you. 

“Well-uh- um, why are you trying to kill them ?” You ask him in an attempt to diffuse the situation, your uncertainty leaked into your words however. 

“Threat.” Came his simple answer. 

You sigh, trying to think your words over but you feel choked. There’s many lives on your hand. 

“No. They aren’t a threat.” That caught his attention. You gesture with your head to the exit of the training grounds, and decide to tug him after he stood still for a solid minute instead. 

That’s how you end up tugging a dragon to his bed, who in turn keeps a tight hold on you and growls at anything that moves. 

Eventually, we made it to the bedroom. You open the door, noticing that for the first time, the dragon seemed somewhat relaxed. 

“Do you have a name ?” You question him curiously, having tired of calling him dragon in your head and otherwise. 

He seems more like a puppy now, trying to cling to you while you lead him to the bed. He rubs his head against your cheek, trying to get his smell on you, but when he registered your question, he shook his head. 

“Do you mind if I call you something ?” 

He smiled excitedly, maybe like a child offered candy, but his sharp teeth were anything but childlike. You’ve no doubt they could rip flesh like marshmallows. 

You took that as a sign of acceptance. 

“Ok ! Oh, but maybe I shouldn’t give you a new name. Since you are Katsuki… Ok I’ll just call you Bakugou so I don’t mix the two of you up.” You exclaim with child-like vigor, the innocence in your eyes contradicting how consequential your current actions are. The dragon and his human host, who are so incredibly enamored with their mate, are carefully weaving a web in an attempt to trap her. Their mate, who was slowly inching to the web out of her own free will. 

He nods.

Your eyes stray down. You gasp at the sight of his bloodied chest. 

“Oh God ! I’m so sorry, this must hurt a lot.” You apologize profusely, mistaking his growl as a pained one. You move to call for a medic or something of the sort, but Ares grabs you and pulls you to lay on the bed, your supine body beneath his large frame. 

He looks down at the gash, his body will recover soon. He can’t smell anyone nearby or in the room except himself and his mate. So there’s no danger. 

His chest rumbles in happiness though, knowing his mate was worried about him. “I heal.” 

The worry evaporates from your face, instead replaced with amazement. Though the sight was unappealing, upon taking a closer look, you could see the edges of the cut sewing themselves together. 

“Amazing.” You breath out. His chest puffs up in pride, knowing he was the cause of the current expression painting his mate’s features. 

“Cute-“ his simple observation causes your face to heat up ”-good mate” and the rest of his statement didn’t help that. His face leans down and instead of pecking you, he nudges your face, and sinks down to your neck where he starts laying kisses, then slowly begins licking. The warm sensation was strange, but you didn’t find yourself hating it when he spread his warm saliva on your neck. You didn’t even find yourself hating it when his teeth start softly suckling on your neck like a chew toy. His sharp teeth aren’t quite breaking the skin. 

A content sigh leaves your lips as tingles travel down your spine. He continues leaving love bites on your neck, and upon finding it decently covered, he goes on to suck on the mating mark, and to your horror, a tiny moan escapes your lips. His movements pause, and his wet mouth detaches from your neck to flash you a smirk, and you found yourself longing for the sensation. 

This is strange, you should be protesting, you should be embarrassed, but it feels as though a fog is clouding your senses. A sweet, sweet fog. It’s as if you’re put under a spell and all that is occupying your mind is the dragon who claimed you as his mate. Little do you know, you aren’t that off mark. 

“Hot.” He says as he caresses your cheek with his calloused finger hand. 

“I’ve never done this with anyone before. It feels so nice…” you confess, your eyes seem glossier than usual, it’s as if being teased by this pleasurable feeling then having it taken away is frustrating enough to make you want to cry. 

He made a satisfied noise that is akin to a rumble and a growl. “Good. Mate is mine.” 

His hand starts caressing your tummy. Even with the dress you adorned, you can still feel the warmth. His head followed the direction of his hand, his nose doggedly sniffing your stomach. If you hadn’t known he was a dragon, you might’ve assumed he was a wolf shifter. 

“No hatchling.” 

You frown, not having expected this. 

“Do you want kids ?” You ask and receive a singular word in response. 

“Hatchlings.” 

You grow increasingly uncomfortable as every daunting second passes by. You didn’t like the direction of this conversation at all. If you could even call it that. 

Would Katsuki be repulsed by his dragon’s behaviour? Would he be repulsed and weirded out by you ? He didn’t let the tiniest hint that he might like you slip out. 

You notice that the sky outside has darkened. It would be safe to assume there would be no dinner tonight. Not with this primal dragon keeping you away from the prying eyes of anyone. You wiggle out of this hold, and when he notices that you are trying to slip away, he makes a move to grab you but you stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder. “No.” He whines in response, trying to ignore the barrier of your hands but you repeat the ‘no’. 

“I have to change.” You explain, wincing at the thought of sleeping with this uncomfortable gown. Pretty, but uncomfortable. 

Bakugo was about to protest, your dress made you look like the queen you are, the pastel shades of pink and flowers decorating it make you look...Cute. But then the image of your nightgowns cross his mind. 

Your tiny, tight nightgowns that leave most of your delicious legs on display and do little to contain your womanly breasts that are going to fill with milk and feed his hatchlings soon enough. 

He lets you go, and to his delight, you come out of the bathroom in a maroon night dress. Your maids would usually come in two hours to prepare you for bed, but today is a mess as it is. Maybe going to bed earlier would be favourable for everyone. 

Katsuki’s chest is completely healed, nothing but a tender, pink line across his chest to tell the tale. You could bet that by morning there would be nothing. And this day will be a forgotten memory in your husband’s mind. You brought with you a wet towel to wipe his chest of any remaining blood. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, and push his body into a supine position. He watched you intensely and in silence as you wipe his chest, the warmth blooming across it either from the hot water that dampened the towel or from the love within the confines of his heart as you cared for him. Maybe it’s because for once, he feels true care from the other side of the bond the two of you share. 

He loves you so fucking much. If only he can just tell you. Well he can, but Katsuki can’t . You’ll reject him and it’ll ruin everything. 

“I love you, mate.” He speaks softly, that even his deep voice feels like a warm blanket on a winter day because of how tender his confession is. 

Your blood rushes to your face and ears, but you clear your throat awkwardly. You don’t know what to do. The dragon might think that he does because of course he fucking would, he marked your neck and bonded with you, but Katsuki doesn’t. 

“Thank you.” You reply stiffly, before disposing the towel and washing your hands. 

Your head is reeling from the confession, but you feel incredibly robbed, for some twisted reason. If only you got stuck in a loving marriage, if only. You yearn for love, but the one person in your love who mentioned love in relation to you is a beast who’s human host will never let out after this turn of events. 

The dragon, Bakugou, on the other hand wasn’t faring any better. He was happy when you expressed your gratitude in relation to his confession, but when he clocked that you never said it back his mood plummeted faster than a dragon whose wings got obliterated mid flight. 

His mood felt so low, that when Katsuki prodded him for control, he didn’t protest. 

……… 

 After freshening up yourself, you return to the bedroom and immediately sense the change in demeanor. 

Katsuki should do this now. He needs to bind you to him emotionally. 

“(Y/n). I need to speak to you.” He motions for you to sit down, his voice that’s usually boisterous and loud is now eerily calm. 

You walk, the padding of your steps filling the otherwise empty room. 

The few seconds it took you to sit on your side of the bed, facing him, were enough for him to finalise his plan. 

“I need to get you pregnant.” Your mouth gapes at his blunt statement. 

“Excuse me ?”

“This thing today, it happened because we delayed consummating our mating because I knew you weren’t ready. But I can’t delay this anymore. I’m sorry, but my dragon demands a hatchling, or what happened today could be repeated until I can’t control him anymore.” He explains. Don’t question. Don’t question. Please, accept his explanation- or more befittingly, his lies. 

You didn’t see his paralyzed form on the floor, he didn’t especially fill you in on what mating entails. 

And he’s reaping full advantage of that. 

Maybe his lies will come back to bite him, but he needs a child with you so he knows you won’t leave him—maybe after tonight, you’ll also develop some affection for him. He’ll be so good to you, you just have to give him a chance. 

His heart pounds so hard that he can hear it as loud as a drum being played right next to his ears. His poor, sensitive ears that will soon fill with the sound of your moans. 

You sigh. You didn’t want to do this. It was too abrupt. To have a child… but the thought of endangering all those lives didn’t sit well with you. It’s not Katsuki’s fault, it’s not, it was nice of him to wait for you anyway. But tears still formed at the corner of your eyes. Frustrated tears, helpless, angry tears. But tears won’t help you. 

He could have forced you to do it on your wedding night and demanded you perform your duties as a wife, even if you didn’t want to do it. And for his understanding, you were grateful. 

“I-“ your voice cracks”-I—I understand.” And his heart cracks upon seeing your red eyes that filled with tears, tears that veiled the natural curiosity and brightness that your eyes seemed to naturally permeate. Tears that didn’t make you any less beautiful to him. 

Before he starts feeling guilty, he reminds himself that he’s doing this for your future. He’ll make your sadness and doubt disappear soon enough. 

His hand, as if it has a mind of its own, goes to your soft cheeks and wipes the falling pearls. Your doe eyes look at him, innocently surprised, and the witness coating your lenses only made you look more angelic. As if acknowledging that you’re at his mercy-or rather, trusting him with your sadness. 

He wipes all your fallen tears, then brings your smaller body closer and hugs you. This would have been greatly romantic-and it was to you, but the underlying truth is that Bakugo is the cause of those tears. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you and our hatchling.” We’ll be the perfect family, just that way we're always supposed to be, mate. 

“It’s-“you hiccup”- it’s fine. I-I don’t blame you.” You reassure, returning his hug. You were surprised that Katsuki was capable of being nice like this, you didn’t know that he possessed a gentle and tender touch. Everyone always pitied you for being forced into wedlock with him, despite keeping their opinions to themselves. Maybe that’s what caused the barrier in your relationship. You suddenly feel shame at judging him so fast. 

But instead, you soak up the warmth of his body pressed against yours. 

Katsuki took the initiative, he cups your cheek and presses his warm, supple lips against yours. A truly loving kiss, because Katsuki loves you and he’s about to show you what him loving you entails. 

Surprisingly, his dragon makes an odd request.

Katsuki tries to continue kissing you but his dragon is growing increasingly demanding with his pursuit of control. 

Katsuki detaches from your lips, dissatisfied with it, but why ? The first time he kissed you at your wedding, it was magical, but now he hungers for more. 

Through his frustration, he lets his control slip and that’s when Ares comes out. 

And he truly looks like the God of War. 

He’s ready to conquer.

He smashes his lips against yours, rather roughly, and the smacking sounds of your lips filled the room. His warm tongue prods your lips, and through your inexperience, you clumsily followed his cue. He’s like a more primal version of Katsuki. 

His tongue begins exploring every crevice and every corner of your mouth, only becoming more hungry at the taste of you. 

He only separates himself after you start running out of breath and when your delicate hands push his chest away. 

His hungry eyes take in your red and swollen lips appreciatively. “Mate delicious.” 

His smirk however, flips to reveal the unfamous scowl of Katsuki. 

“Sorry. He’s eager. He wants to breed you roughly, he demands it.” Katsuki tells you shamelessly, panting with need and cheeks blushed lewdly. His predatory eyes take in your compromising position, thinking of different positions to breed you. 

“It’s ok, just please be gentle with… you know-- I’m a virgin...” you remind him with a chuckle as you try to play it off, but the embarrassment is evident on your face. Katsuki was well aware of the fact, but seeing you admit that he would be the one to deflower you just made the tent in his pants more obvious. Sprawled out beneath him, trying to avoid eye contact from shyness. What a beautiful sight. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you enjoy it.” 

He went back to kissing you, and his dragon kept giving him tips, surprisingly, and seeing how he ravished your lips before, he took the beasts advice wholeheartedly. He shed his clothes while you were preoccupied with his lips. 

“I am too, if it makes you feel any better.” That’s pleasant to hear, and it only gave your ever improving image of Katsuki more credibility. He’s not like those perverted male royals who frequently use prostitutes while fussing over the slightest male interaction their wives have. You guess that’s a plus of marrying a dragon.

After he thoroughly swapped saliva with you, his lips go to your ear and breathlessly whisper “I’m going down to prep you.” 

Your features scrunch adorably in confusion. “What do you mean ? Don’t you just put it in ?” 

He internally coos at your words, so naive. 

Outwardly though, he chuckles. “You’d be crying if I just shoved my dragon cock on you sweetheart.” 

You gasp and his words and cover his mouth with your hand. 

“Katsuki ! Don’t be crude. And did you just call your manhood cock ?” 

He continues chuckling, only now with new found vigor while removing your hands. “Yes, I called it cock.” 

His red eyes didn’t seem to hold the slightest bit of shame, you huff grumpily. 

“Ok (y/n), you have to be relaxed for me, ok ?” He asks seriously, and you nod, not knowing what to expect, but willing to let him lead. 

Katsuki goes between your legs, and lifts your tiny dress up to reveal your panties. He could already see some wetness. He slips your cotton panties down to reveal the delicious sight of your pussy. 

You adorably turn your face away, not willing to look any longer at him looking at your private parts. 

He’s lucky his primal urges are guiding him on what to do or he’d be lost, but his dragon is eagerly licking his lips at finally being able to taste his mate. He takes a tentative lick, and becomes pleased when you tense up. He takes another, slower one and when he pinpoints the exact location that had you tensing, he pays attention to it. 

After hearing a cute, restrained moan escape the confines of your mouth, he begins sucking on your clit. Your thighs close around him as you moan louder. 

“Ah. Katsuki, that feels so good.” So sexy, it’s like all his dirty daydreams in one sentence. 

He keeps sucking, and his fingers prod at your opening. You were lubricated enough that his thick finger slips right in. He experimentally thrusts it in and out while he keeps on sucking you and gets rewarded with pleasurable noises from you. 

He adds a second finger, the stretch still not quite enough. 

A third finger prods your entrance, and you gasp. “Please slow down Katsuki…” 

He gives your thigh a kiss, and murmurs a little apology before he resumes eating you out. 

Your thighs clamp around his head in pleasure as he continues sucking you. Your heart rate speeds up as you abandon all inhibitions and moan for the man pleasuring you. 

“Katsuki I feel- I feel like I’m going to pee…” you confess bashfully as he continues to suck you with his mouth while two of his fingers thrust in and out of you, mimicking the movement of his manhood. 

“No, you're about to cum. Don’t hold it back.” He commands you. So that’s what the knot you feel in your stomach is. 

He takes his fingers out and uses both of his hands to lift your hips up. His tongue teases your nub, not sucking anymore but merely rubbing your clit with the tip of his tongue. The loss of the stimulation of his fingers, added with this, makes you come down from your high. Frustrated tears stream down your face as dissatisfaction gnaws on your chest. 

“Why ?” Your question while looking down at his face between your legs, he gives your clit lazy strokes. 

“You didn’t say thank you. Is that how a good mate behaves ?” Katsuki’s voice was deeper now, not deep enough for it to be Bakugo-the dragon, but deep enough for you to know he’s primal right now.

He did say he wanted it rough… 

“I’m sorry Katsuki. I’ll be good from now on, promise !” You beg, desperately for more stimulation then the lazy strokes if his tongue. 

“I don’t know if I should believe you.” He rubs his dampened chin, looking contemplative. 

“Please, I’m gonna be a good mate ‘n say thank you Katsuki.” You plead again and he hums in response. 

Katsuki is crooning with pride seeing how desperate for him you are. Your lip wobbles as you beg, dependent, submissive to him and only him. 

“Fine, since you begged so nicely. But next time, I’m going to punish you.” You nod in acceptance. But before he can reprimand you for the same mistake, you use you words. “Ok, thank you.” His chest rumbles in pride at your obedience. 

In no time, Katsuki had you cuming in his tongue, and he laps it up, moaning at how tasty at is. 

“Thank you- ah. Thank you-“ you babble incoherently. 

Katsuki lays kisses on your thighs, giving a few nibs to mark you. 

He slips your night dress off while you bask in the afterglow of release and growls at the delicious sight of your bare breast. 

He captured a nipple in his mouth, twirling his tongue on the sensitive skin then suckling like a hatchling would. 

You bury your hand in his hair, pulling at it as pleasurable tingles travel through your body. 

“Gonna fill those with milk soon.” He declares, his fierce and deep voice confident while he squeezes your breasts in his hand. 

He took off any remaining layers on himself, deciding he delayed this enough. He was kind of nervous at your reaction. 

You look in horror at his monstrous manhood, huge, absolutely huge and the thickness towards the end could compare to a coke can, a fizzy common drink you saw servants indulge in. 

“ it’s not going to fit.” You say, folding your legs against your chest protectively. This huge thing, inside you ? Hah. 

“Yes it is.” He growls. But he softens his tone when he sees the intimidated look on your face. 

“Don’t worry.” Even though you still wanted to protest, you realize that it’s not like he can help his size, so you nod cautiously. 

He takes hold of your ankles and spreads them further apart, revealing your juicy core. 

A white pearl of precum gathers at the tip of his dick, glistening and proof of his excitement at finally being able to breed you and claim your body. His balls were full and ready to be milked inside your walls. 

“There, you can hold my hand. And tell me if it hurts.” You nod, and he interlocks his fingers with yours while his other hand adjusts his cock at your entrance. He pushed it inside, smoothly at first and he had to bite his lip to contain the whine that was going to slip out. A few inches in and you were gripping his hand until both of your knuckles turn white. 

“It hurts.” You rasp out. Well that’s troublesome, less then half his cock is inside. 

Despite how tempting it is to just ram it all in, and bask in the warmth of your walls, he gave you his word. So he pulls out, his length wet from your juices. 

He puts one of your legs over his shoulder and goes eye level with your cute, tight little hole that didn’t manage to take him. 

He gathers saliva in his mouth, then sticks his tongue inside. His warm muscle fucks you for a few minutes, thrusting in and out and relaxing your rigid walls. 

But when you start moaning for release, he takes his wet muscle out. 

Half of his length slips right in from your wetness. 

He grabs your hand and laces his fingers in yours yet again. Your hot walls clamp around him, and as he pushes his length in more and more, your tightness becomes comparable to a piece of cloth stretched too thin. It feels as if he’s going to rip you apart. 

Tears slide down your face, he’s too much. “Katsuki, it hurts…” he squeezes your hand, and begins kissing your tears away, distracting you from the painful penetration. 

“I’m all in honey. It’s ok.” He rasps out. You sigh in relief. It hurts so badly, but you’ll bear with it like a good mate. 

He stays still for a few moments, cockwarming you, while he tries to restrain his raging dragon. He growls in satisfaction, having popped your cherry and claimed your body. His scent is all over your body, even your insides. 

He begins moving his hips, hungry for the friction. You start to relax slightly, and after a few thrusts, you start to even enjoy it. 

He moans when your walls squeeze him, squelching sounds filling the room as he picks up speed. He lays his head on your chest, sucking your mounds while his hips snap against yours. 

“‘Gonna breed you so good. You’re gonna be gorgeous, swollen and full with our hatchlings. They better look like you, gorgeous.” He rambles, his cock twitching at the thought of you nursing the hatchlings with your milk and rocking them and cooing at them. It seems that you agree with him, because you hug his body tighter and squeeze him harder. So hard that his fucking falters. 

He groans when your fingers pull his hair, pretty lips mouthing pleas to come, the broken begs sounding better then any music he’d ever heard. 

He grabs your knees, pushing them against your chest, which made your walls even tighter, and let him breach and massage untouched places. 

“Ah.” You moan loudly in surprise when his tip nudges against your crevix, your tongue lolling out lewdly. 

His expression mirrors yours as he flushes an even deeper shade of red. He groans as you tighten around him in preparation for an orgasm. 

“Tell me baby, did that feel good ?” He asks, pushing your legs against your chest even more while the sound of the room fills with his balls slapping against you. 

“Yes. Thank you- thank you. Please let me cum. I’ve been good. Please. Please.” You plead and plead, but his hips slow down in response. 

“No !” You protest. He shushed you gently, grunting at the sudden lack of pleasure coursing through his body. 

“Shh. It’s ok. I’ll let you cum if you do this one thing.” You nod eagerly in response. Anything. 

“Tell me you love me.” You almost expected the voice you heard to be animalistic and deep like Bakugo, but it’s the more humanoid one lf your husband. 

“I love you Katsuki.” 

His heart flutters, the words he’s been so desperate to hear finally come out of your mouth. His lips lay a soft peck on your lips, his tender touch soft like a lover’s touch would be. 

“I love you too kitten.” He replies, and before your brain can return to its senses, his hips begin slamming again, and in no time, you are squeezing him like a vice while you cum around his cock. He hugs your small body close to him, your soft chest against his, while his cock paints your walls white. 

“So much cum and it’s all for you. It’s gonna keep coming out because dragons have that much fucking cum for their mates-“ he rambles breathlessly, shocks still traveling through his body, “- then when it finishes, I’m gonna flip you and fuck you from behind and fill you all over again.” 

The fog was starting to clear from your head, and once again, you become aware of your sweaty bodies hugging each other close and his massive cock that's still inside you and still filling you with cum.

“Uh, you want to do it again ?” You ask, unsure whether his post orgasmic rambling his nonsensical or not. 

His red eyes look at your flushed face, and he wipes any sweat or tears sticking to it with his hand- which is fairly sweaty in its own regard, but he wanted to feel like he’s taking care of you. 

“Can I ? I- the dragon is not totally satisfied yet.” He confesses while his hand presses your bloated stomach and hisses due to his cock still being inside. He’s proud of having bloated his mate because of his seed. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it again.

..................

please like and reblog if you liked this, and thanks for reading.

kofi

[rove-bogge]

Happy Birthday to the Ignihyde Gremlin!

Happy Birthday Rove!

"Huh people actually have time to remember this year?"

Do you normally not get your birthday celebrated? 

"Not really…my family runs a tailors and Halloween is like the busiest time of year for orders especially after Reda has expanded the business…If I'm lucky the simp might make my favourite dinner but normally it's kinder overshadowed…"

How about this year? 

"Well my main want is to have a great halloween with the rest of Ignihyde I guess if we get that I'm happy….not that I am a sappy person uuurgghh..." 

Any birthday memories? 

"Ehhh its always been full of busy work making last minute adjustments or dealing with fussy karens….though one year we had this magician come in when i was still a little tot…apparently he needed some adjustments to his big show costume so I was helping with the hem and he asked me what day it was and when I told him it was my birthday he gave me my first set of dice and taught me some dice tricks he was a fun guy though I forgot to get his name and sadly never had time to check out his shows… shame but I still have those dice there my super super lucky ones!" Any plans for the future? “Not really…I have to go help out in the family store after all. Got to love being shut in the basement and forced to work my life away in boredom…” You're joking right? Well what would you like to do?” “Umm…well if I could pick…I like to be a bug tester both in spells and technology. People hire hackers and virus makers to see if they can break their security on their systems and test the weaknesses. It’s doing what I do best but legally. Then I could use the money to expand and improve my bug habitats and maybe even do breeding for endangered species to help them recover.”

Ok some favourite food? 

"Sour gummy worms totally are the best. It always makes people do a double take if they look more realistic too hahaha. I guess there's also the simps stew too that always hits right especially during the rainy season. I have a slow cooker in my room to make it every now and then. I sometimes will make a huge batch for the dorm when people need a bit of a pick me up!"

Least favourite food? 

"Urgh coffee it's so bitter….how can people drink it? I added like fifthteen sugars and milk and it still tasted nasty…I'll pass thanks there's other ways to get caffeine!"

Who would you bring to a deserted island? And the person can not be someone from your dorm! 

"You knew Ortho would have been the easiest pick…well I guess it's still not a hard question to answer. Kalen. With his unique magic I'm sure he will do all the heavy lifting while I sit back and wait for rescue..maybe even see what insects live on this island. And Kalen is at least tolerable to be stuck with and worse case there's plenty of muscle if food sources become short kek /jk!"

Who would you pick for a sibling-

"Orth-"

But it can't be someone from your own dorm!?!

" ….."

"……"

*turning bashful* 

"…..Lilia or Vil..."

And why??

"Well…Lilia seems to see my bugs as cute too and wouldn't it be funny to be taller than the older brother so there's that too and I could only imagine the cool prank team ups we could have!"

"As for Vil Jinx is always saying good things about Vil and it…sounds nice to have a sibling who would look out for you and care about your well being…Reda never really cared about looking out for me growing up…there was many times I needed him and he wasn't interested in being there….oi forget I said that!!"

Jeez alright…

A dorm other than Ignihyde? 

"Hmm can I pick Ramshackle? Hehe the ran down house is perfect for wild certain wild bugs I would love to have a even bigger room to house my collection in and it's quiet not filled with many people so peaceful…though…would the internet be decent…might need to speak to Idia about installing fibre optic if I was to move though I guess if Ramshakle doesn't count Diasomnia seems alright. It is not lively like the other dorms or stuffy so I could keep to myself easily there…and Ember is there too so we can play games in the evenings. I guess green is also more my colour then blue...." Ready for your gift of good fortune? "I wouldn't call it good fortune.....How about we just give it to the bugs....a little treat." Hold still! [Whoosh!]

[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 9

(Y/n)'s POV

It doesn't take me long to pack. I decide to leave the Minotaur horn in the cabin, which leaves me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.

The camp store loans me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. The coins are as big as Girl Scout cookies and have images of various Greek Gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron had told us, but Olympins never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in for non-mortal transactions - whatever that might mean. He gives Annabeth, Percy, and me canteens of nectar and Ziploc bags full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It is god food, Chiron reminds us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it is lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally, Fun.

Annabeth is bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she tells me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She is also bringing a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she gets bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I'm sure the knife is going to get us busted the first time we go through a metal detector.

Grover is wearing his fake feet and his pants to pass as a human. He wears a green rasta-style cap, because when it rains his curly hair flattened and you can just see the tips of his horns. Grover's bright orange backpack is full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket is a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knows two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto Number 12 and Hilary Duff's 'So Yesterday,' both of which sound pretty bad on reed pipes.

We wave good-bye to the other campers, take one last look at eh strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hike up the Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, the Daughter of Zeus.

Chiron is waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stands the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy is the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he's wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I can only see the extra eyes on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron tells me. "He'll drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."

I hear footsteps behind us.

Luke comes running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes. "Hey!" he pants. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushes, the way she always does when Luke is around.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke tells us. "And I thought . . . um, maybe you could use these."

He hands Percy a pair of sneakers, which look pretty normal.

Then, Luke says, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels. The shoes flap around on the ground until the wings fold up and disappear.

"Awesome!" Grover exclaims.

Luke smiles. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days...." His expression turns sad.

Annabeth stomps down the other side of the hill, after arguing with Percy, where a white SUV waits on the shoulder of the road. Argus follows, jingling his car kees.

Percy picks up the flying shoes and then looks up at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

Chiron shakes his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air...that would not be wise for you."

I nod, getting an idea, "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes light up. "Me?"

Pretty soon, we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy is ready for launch.

"Maia!" Grover shouts. He gets off the ground, okay, but then falls over sideways so his backpack drags through the grass. The winged shoes keep bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron calls after him. "You just need practice."

"Aaaaa!" Grover goes flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawnmower, heading towards the can.

But before I can follow, Chiron catches my arm. "I should have trained you two better, Percy, (Y/n)," he says. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason - they all got more training."

"That's okay. I just -" I stop myself.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cries. "I can't let the two of you get away without these." He pulls two pens out of his coat pocket and hands one to me and one to Percy.

Looking down at it, I see a teal-colored gel pen. Maybe cost thirty cents.

"Gee," Percy says. "Thanks."

"Percy, those are gifts from your father. I've been keeping them for years, not knowing you two were the ones I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You two are the ones."

Instinctively I take off the cap, and the pen grows longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I am holding a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a teal and silver leather-wrapped grip. This is the first weapon that feels balanced in my hand.

"That sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron tells Percy. "Its name is Anaklusmos."

"Riptide," Percy translates.

"I have never seen anyone use that sword that I'm aware of," Chiron says, turning to me. "Yours is named Τυφώνας."

"Hurricane," I translate, surprised that the Ancient Greek came so easily to me.

"Use them only for emergencies," Chiron says, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but neither sword would hurt them in any case."

I look down at the wickedly sharp blade. "What do you mean it wouldn't harm mortals? How could it not?"

"Those swords are celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blades will pass through morals like an illusion. They simply are not important for the blade to kill. And I should warn you two: as demigods, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable."

"Good to know," Percy says.

"Now recap the pens," Chiron says.

Percy and I touch the pen cap to the sword tips and instantly Riptide and Hurricane shrink to ballpoint pens again. I tuck it in my pocket, a little nervous because it's pretty easy to lose a pen.

"You can't," Chiron says.

"Can't what?" I ask, slightly confused.

"Lose the pens," he says. "They're enchanted. They'll always reappear in your pockets. Try it."

Warily, I throw the pen as far as I can down the hill and watch it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments," Chiron tells us. "Now check your pocket."

Sure enough, the pen is there.

"Okay, that is extremely cool," I admit.

"But what if a mortal sees one of us pulling out a sword?" Percy asks.

Chiron smiles. "Mist is a powerful thing, Percy."

"Mist?" I ask.

"Yes. Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whatever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go fit things into their version of reality.

I put Hurricane back into my pocket.

For the first time, the quest feels real. I'm leaving Half-Blood Hill. I'm heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone - Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be no worse than sending up a flare. I have no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron . . ." Percy says. "When you say the gods are immortal . . . I mean, there was a time before them, right?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like...before the gods?"

Chiron purses his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually, the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born."

"But the gods can't die now, right? I mean, as long as Western civilization is alive, they're alive. So...even if I failed, nothing could happen so bad it would mess up everything, right?" I ask, feeling rather uncertain.

Chiron gives me a melancholy smile. "No one knows how long the Age of the West will last, (Y/n). The gods are immortal, yes. But then, so were the Titans. They still exist, locked away in their various prisons, forced to endure endless pain and punishment, reduced in power, but still very much alive. May the Fates forbid that the gods should ever suffer such a doom, or that we should ever return to the darkness and chaos of the past. All we can do, child, is follow our destiny."

"Our destiny...assuming we know what that is," I say grimly.

"Relax," Chiron tells me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, the two of you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history."

"Relax," I say. "I'm very relaxed."

When Percy and I get to the bottom of the hill, I look back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron is now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur."

Argus drives us out of the countryside and into western Long Island, It feels weird to be on a highway again, Annabeth and Grover sitting next to me, Percy on the other side of Grover, as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seems like a fantasy. I find myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parent's car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"So far so good," Percy tells Annabeth. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

She gives Percy an irritated loo. "It's bad luck to talk that way."

"Remind me again - why do you hate us so much?" Percy asks.

"I don't hate you two."

"Could've fooled me."

Annabeth folds her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?" Percy asks.

Annabeth sighs. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives," Percy comments, and I stifle a snort of laughter.

"Oh, forget it," Annabeth grumbles.

"Now, if she invented pizza - that I could understand," I add, in a slightly teasing tone.

"I said, forget it!" Annabeth says, hitting me lightly on the arm.

In the front seat, Argus smiles. He doesn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winks at me.

Traffic slows down in Queens. By the time we get into Manhattan, it is sunset and starting to rain.

Argus drops us at the greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox is a soggy flyer with mine and Percy's picture on it: Have you seen these children?

Percy rips it down before Annabeth and Grover can notice.

Argus unloads our bags, makes sure we get our bus tickets, then drives away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulls out of the parking lot.

I think about how close I am to the apartment. On a normal day, Mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Gabe is probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her.

Grover shoulders his backpack. He gazes down the street in the direction I am looking. "You want to know why she married him, (Y/n)?"

I stare at him. "Were you reading my mind?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Just your emotions," Grover shrugs. "You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nod.

"Your mom married Gabe for you and Percy," Grover tells me. "You call him 'Smelly,' but you've got no idea. This guy has this aura . . . Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him o you, and you haven't been near him in a week."

"Thanks," Percy grimaces from Grover's other side. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better."

I soften, looking down a the ground. I'll see her again, I think. She isn't gone.

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend, the Oracle whispers in my mind. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.

The rain keeps coming down.

We get restless waiting for the bus and decide to play some Hacky Sack with one of Groer's apples. Annabeth was unbelievable at it. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder, whatever. Percy wasn't too bad either, but I found that I wasn't that great at it.

The game ends when I toss the apple towards Grover and it gets too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappears - core, stem, and all.

Grover blushes. He tries to apologize, but Annabeth, Percy, and I are too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus comes.

I am relieved when we finally get on board and find seats together in the back of the bus, Me and Annabeth in one row, and Percy and Grover across from us. The four of us stow our backpacks.

I glance over at Annabeth beside me, who keeps slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers get on, Annabeth claps her hand onto my knee. "Look!"

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She is wearing a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadows her face and she is carrying a big paisley purse. When she tilts her head up, her black eyes glitter.

I see Percy slump down in his seat.

Behind her comes two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise, they look exactly like Mrs. Dodds - same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dress. Triple demon grandmothers.

They sit in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle cross their legs over the walkway, making an X. It is casual enough, but it sends a clear message: Nobody leaves.

The bus pulls out of the station, and we head through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy says, his voice quavering a little. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth murmurs. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpers. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth says, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moans.

"A back exit?" she suggests.

There isn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we are on Ninth Avenue heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," I say. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminds me. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?" Percy asks.

She thinks about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus goes dark except for the running lights down teh aisle. It is eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

"I need to use the rest-room."

"So do I."

"So do I."

All three demons start coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth says. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?" he says with disbelief.

"You're the one they want. You killed one of them. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys -"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth says as she glances over at me. "You're a son of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you," Percy says, looking desperately at me.

"Go," I say, frowning and Annabeth hands him the cap.

The old ladies are not old ladies anymore. Their faces are still the same - I guessed they couldn't get any uglier - but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws; their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surround me, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus are screaming, cowering in their seats. They see something, all right.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yells. "He's gone!"

The Furies raise their whips.

Annabeth draws her bronze knife. Grover grabs a tin can from his snack bag and prepares to throw it.

Word Count: 3222 words

[philicheesecake]

To Hunt or to be Hunted (U.L.)

Synopsis: Warren goes on his first mission for the Unseen Legion after his initiation, and it doesn't go quite as planned. Eli the giant doesn't have Warren off of his sights just yet. Takes place before An Unorthodox Lecture.  Warnings: Language warnings, M/M, g/t halfsize, nonfatal unwilling vore

---

Eli hated having to keep ahead of the hunting rotation with all the added stress of the possibility of falling behind. After a big setback, he had no choice but to lay low for a few weeks in order for all the other giants to pass before following the course on his own.

It was a bit of a problem when it was here in the mountains, where the larger species of giants served as a big threat that he had to avoid. Regardless, he managed to survive the next few weeks by laying low.

Week three after the incident, he picked up a faint scent on the wind within one of the mountain forests that seemed familiar, but upon following it, he found it led to a dead end. It belonged to a human. And that human better not be meddling with the wrong stuff here.

This provoked some thoughts of concern from the giant, and curiosity got the better of him.

He readopted his smaller camouflaged form and paid the old alchemist shop a little visit. Of course he was met once again with a shotgun held to his throat, and the alchemist didn’t seem too happy that he had been cured of the curse from last time they met. She was at least somewhat impressed that Eli hadn’t killed her Hunter friend. Upon asking her a few questions, Eli gathered all of the information he needed. And he was pretty pissed about what he found.

***

It had been three weeks since the first mission of the U.L. gone wrong. The time that had almost cost Warren his life getting wrapped up in the affairs of ravenous, savage giants. Warren has only narrowly escaped with his life due to the help of an unexpected ally. Even then the memory still gave him nightmares.

The way he had believed to have been betrayed as the terrifying fanged maw opened up before him, hungry, and awaiting to devour him whole. Even if he had been safe then, it didn’t alter the fear and terror of the memories.

The Unseen Legion had assigned him the mission to kill one monster in order to be allowed to join their ranks. Warren had stupidly chosen to kill a giant and failed at that task. Normally, this would make him instantly denied entry into the Legion, but his rare experience of the Banding ceremony and surviving it had served as a valuable source of knowledge they couldn’t waste. Before he knew it, he was an initiated member, and he hadn’t even killed anything yet.

Now for the moment of truth, they wanted him to kill a werewolf. Simple enough. It wasn’t anything as massive or powerful as a giant. This one should be easier, right? All he had to do was avoid getting bitten and use his silver knife, or silver bullets to deliver a fatal blow to the heart. No worries about getting eaten alive or any of that. He was sure he had some sort of PTSD from what happened with Eli and didn’t want anything like that to happen again.

He had searched for hours past midnight as he tried to follow what little he knew about tracking in order to locate the beast. The moon was high above the blackened dome, splaying it’s fragmented rays through the branches of the trees, glistening across the forest floor like glistening shards of glass that provided a hazy illumination. It only furthered the distortion of the shadows of the forest where the parts of the moonlight didn’t reach.

Warren’s lone silver ray from his flashlight beamed through the darkened forest to provide a small path of light like a tunnel through the walls of blackness. He had found his first paw print, but it was hard to determine whether it was fresh or days old. The U.L. Archivists had been tracking the hunting patterns of this particular wolf for a while now and we’re quite certain that it would be nearby. It seemed that they were right, but one could begin to only look at so many paw prints before hope of finding the real beast would begin to dwindle.

Suddenly a howl broke through the night. It was low and long, and split the chilled air that froze his breath. Warren paused, tensing in place for a moment. The nerves of the situation were beginning to settle in. There was a powerful mythical beast out there, and he was supposed to kill it. He drew out his pistol shakily, but stabilized it over his flashlight-wielding hand.

He turned a few times, trying to locate the source of the sound. For a moment, there was an eerie stillness in the forest. The shadows of the trees didn’t falter as their gnarled limbs caged him in bars of darkness that split the moonlight. There. Off in the distance, he could have sworn he saw a slight movement in the underbrush. But as soon as his flashlight shone towards it, it was gone.

A pause.

Each passing millisecond mounted the scene with more apprehension. Warren bated his breath, not daring to move just yet.

CRASH!!!

There was a sudden burst of motion that dove through the trees and pounded onto the foliage with a swift motion. It towered above Warren, easily twice his size. It was a mere shadow at this point. But then Warren saw the eyes. A glistening golden color that reflected off of the light animalistically. The eyes leered down at him for a split second before they were gone again.

Warren’s heart raced and he stumbled backwards, tripping over a tree root that protruded from the soil. He scampered backwards, fumbling as he tried to grab his flashlight again.

A giant.

What was a giant doing here?!

Warren had made sure to double check and triple check that the U.L. Was certain that their rotation had already passed before he could do his first mission. How had one slipped under their radar?

Warren lifted his pistol, still scooting on his back away from where he had seen it. The flurry of movement continued. There were growls and a sudden high yelp like an injured dog split the air. Something whooshed by as a large object was hurled into the air and crashed into the underbrush, just inches from where Warren lay. Warren flashed his light to the side, gasping. The werewolf lay there with matted grayish brown fur with long narrow lashes that had sliced it open. It wasn’t moving, but blood still flowed from the wounds.

Warren was shaking. He shined the flashlight back at where the giant was. His heart stopped. It wasn’t there. His breaths rasped in his throat faster and uneasily. Even in the cold, his palms were sweaty from fear, making it more difficult to grip the pistol properly.

There was another burst of movement. A large shadow swept over him with a flash of reflective eyes.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three shots were fired from the pistol, before the wind was knocked out of him. He was pinned to the ground. A massive hand bore down over his chest. Golden eyes glinted down at him like an animal's. Warren’s heart pounded in his ears and it took him a minute to react. He tried to aim the pistol back at the giant, but it was quickly twisted from his grasp. A low chuckle sounded, almost like a growl.

“Thought ya could be a big scary Hunter, now did ya, Kiddo?”

Warren froze, still shivering. That voice. “...Eli?”

The giant snorted. His face was still not visible through the shadows, and for a moment, Warren feared that he had guessed the wrong giant.

“Do ya really think that knowing my name will spare your life in the field?” The voice came back in a mocking chuckle, only confirming Warren’s assumption. “I know what ya did with the Unseen Legion. And you’ll never survive.”

Warren’s eyes narrowed. He brought up his hands to try to pry off the giant’s grip, but it remained firm and unyielding. “I— I have it under control! If you just let me kill that wolf—“

A cruel laugh broke out. Though he couldn’t see the creature’s face through the shadow, he could see its form quake with laughter. “Hunting is never that easy, Tiny. It could have been any other giant just now that jumped ya, and right about now, you’d be somewhere in their gut.” The giant leaned closer, his chuckles still heard as his warm breath wafted over Warren’s face.

Warren shuddered. “I’m trying, okay! Just give me a chance!”

The giant paused for a moment, a growling hum came from his throat in thought. And then the grip around Warren was released.

“Alright, Hunter. If you really think you can be part of the Legion, try to survive. Either beat me, or escape. I’ll even be nice and give you a head start. But if you fail, you suffer the consequences of what a real bad giant would do.”

Warren took in a nervous gasp, trying to scoot to his feet. “W-wait— no— you can’t possibly be thinking of eating me again!”

“Well, I did promise that the last time we met, ya know. That would be kinda embarrassing if I just… didn’t. Also, I can never pass up a tasty little snack.” Eli rolled his eyes, getting to his feet.

The giant lifted the little pistol and slid it onto safety before pocketing it. Standing, he was more in view with the pale moonlight that illuminated his features in pieces cut off from the shadows of the branches. His eyes were framed by dark stripes, not unlike the eye markings of a cheetah. His hair was dark and spiky. His fingers were tipped with long, sharp claws. Standing at his full height, he was 13’3, easily over twice the height of the small human hunter.

Warren finally managed to get to his feet, cringing at Eli’s words. “But—“

“Aaaand there goes your head start and you just wasted it.” Eli feigned a yawn.

Warren tensed, not waiting another moment to dash away in alarm. He pushed through the thick underbrush, weaving through the trees on the uneven trail. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his breaths froze against the moonlight in puffs of silver mist.

It was almost impossible to navigate in the darkened forest, and outrunning a giant that had evolved for terrains such as this, capable of sprinting at sixty miles per hour, made home seem slim. But Warren didn’t want to endure going through that again. Some part of him believed that with just a small stroke of luck, he might escape this.

He glanced over his shoulder for a moment to try to locate how close behind the giant was, only to find out, he wasn’t there. Where there had once been a towering creature, there was nothing at all. Nothing chasing him.

Giants were ambush predators.

Warren took in a shaky gasp, immediately feeling ten times more hyper aware of his surroundings. He looked ahead and ran faster—

THUMP—

A tree trunk slammed into his face. He should have been looking forward while he ran. He must have regained his bearings too slow. With a hand bracing him against the tree to try to stabilize himself to run again, he suddenly felt something warm wrap around his leg and jerk him backwards. Warren let out a yelp, quickly reaching out to try to hug the tree in order to resist being pulled backwards, but it was helpless since the grip around his leg was much stronger. He was dragged onto the floor, face mingling with the gross dirt and underbrush.

He flailed helplessly, trying to grab onto something. He reoriented himself, twisting in the grip to be positioned on his back, only to let him have a clearer view at the gigantic creature looming over him. The giant was on one knee, stooping over the small human, only really needing one hand to restrain him. Even crouched down, he was taller than a man was standing. His face was close, allowing a clear view of the glinting fangs as he drew back his lips in a hungry sneer.

“Really? That was pretty pathetic. I was going easy on ya, but you were beat by a tree. Pfft.” Eli’s voice came in a mocking chuckle.

Warren winced, panting with his heart still racing in his ears. “Eli… please don’t…”

“This ain’t anything new to a Hunter, ya know. Your defeat could be a whole lot worse. Once ya join the Legion, ya won’t last long. Not more than two missions I bet.”

The giant drew closer until his warm breaths could be felt on Warren’s face. From this close position, Warren could hear the giant’s stomach gurgle nearby in anticipation.

“Aww, sounds like someone misses you,” The giant chuckled teasingly.

The hunter grimaced, his breaths growing more rapid through his nose as he tried to hide his fear without much luck. He tried to pry the hand off of his leg, but his arms were soon gripped between Eli’s fingers and he was lifted off the ground, dangling before the giant’s face.

“W-wait— Eli I swear to god—.” He let out a yelp as his shoes were suddenly yanked off and he was held higher to dangle above the maw of the giant. “—Hey!”

“I don’t like eating shoes.” Eli said with a shrug.

“Well I don’t like being eaten!!” Warren retorted with a shudder. “Wh— WAIT—!”

The giant was clearly getting impatient. He pocketed the shoes and lowered Warren’s feet towards his mouth. Warren gasped, kicking and struggling in the giant’s grip. Another hand reached up to steady his feet, guiding them towards the giant’s hungry maw. His mouth chomped lightly around his socked feet and ankles, bringing them within the warm confines. Though he didn’t bite down, the pricks of fangs barred them in warningly, making it too dangerous to struggle.

Warren’s eyes widened, and he grimaced as he could feel the slimy tongue begin to soak his socks and feet as they were brought inside. A murr sounded as he could feel the tongue move beneath him, pushing his feet towards the palate as they were tasted, brought in deeper. A little more of his shins were brought into the mouth as his feet were pressed by the tongue and funneled towards the entrance of the throat.

Warren tensed up, jerking his legs as he could both feel and hear the first swallow. His feet were firmly squished against the palate and tugged into the tight, warm throat where he could already feel the slick muscles gripping at his feet to hold him in place. Warren panted, quickly changing his trajectory from trying to break loose from the grip, to clinging onto Eli’s hand to try to slow his descent. The hand only lowered Warren further into the giant’s maw as Eli began to swallow more rhythmically, making his way up to the thighs.

Warren was fighting at this point, terrified as he saw more of himself disappearing down the tight throat. He could see the bulge he made in the giant’s neck, moving slightly in-tuned with his struggles. He was practically sitting on the tongue now, and the throat had gripped him tightly enough to make it near impossible to try to pull himself out. Saliva soaked through his pants as the slick muscles gripped and massaged at him.

Eli’s hand began to let go of his arms, repositioning to brace him behind his back as he pushed Warren towards the throat. Greedy, pleased murrs sounded in his throat in a low growl as more of Warren’s form was accepted into his possession. Warren was shaking, forgetting in the moment that Eli probably wouldn’t hurt him. This only took him back to the dreadful memories from where he was swallowed the first two times. The encompassing terror that had encapsulated him then.

GLK—

There was a disgusting slick sound as the throat gripped him, dragging his hips into the tight folds. Warren panted, gritting his teeth in desperation as he tried to grip the hand that held him, trying to do almost a pull-up to hopefully pull himself free, or pause the giant’s efforts. Only for a mere moment it seemed to be working. Empty swallows rippled at his form, though he wouldn’t budge. There was a glimmer of hope. He was stuck! The way the muscles twitched against him uselessly was still disgusting, but at least he wasn’t going any deeper!

There was a choked, gagging sound coming from the giant’s throat as he struggled with Warren’s resistance. It only lasted for a moment longer before the hand let go and Eli jerked his head backwards. Instantly, gravity shifted, allowing Warren to begin to slide deeper again. He was now up to his chest in the fang-lined maw. With his hands free, he tried to push against Eli’s jaws to try to immobilize him, locking his arms in a stiff position to not get down further. From working up his appetite this whole time, his jaws were dripping with slick saliva, making it gross to contact it when Warren’s hands were there. He was now uncomfortably close to Eli’s face. The giant’s eyes were shut. An expression of enjoyment and pleasure played over his face. He seemed unphased by Warren’s attempts. Almost even indifferent to them.

Warren shuddered, tensing as he felt another swallow tug at him. It was a battle maintaining his ground by gripping Eli’s jaw to hold him in place. He only sunk in another millimeter. His second attempt seemed to be working better than the first. The only issue was how far he was in right now. Only a couple more swallows, and he was done-for. If he slipped, if Eli managed to remove his grip, he would be easily gone. Most of his body was now soaked to the bone in encompassing heat and slime as he was constricted and tugged at within the claustrophobic confines of the throat.

“Eli— stop— p-please don’t do this.” Warren’s protest came out in a breathless stammer.

The giant didn’t make any response, but lifted up his hands to pry the human’s little ones off of his jaw. “No—- NO—!” Warren pleaded.

GLK—

His chest was pulled into the throat and his head and shoulders were now within the giant’s slimy maw. He panted, trying to reach his arms above him to grab something— anything that would help him, but to no use. He winced as he could feel the fangs so close to pricking his arms. Fearfully, he looked down.

Through the dim moonlight, he could see the back of the mouth where the tongue had pinned and guided his torso into the more cramped area. The giant was heavily salivating at his taste, and out of instinct in order to slick down his meal enough to make him slide down with ease. Slick slime dripped from the roof of the mouth. Threads of saliva connected to his form, following his torso into the throat. He felt the tongue rise up beneath him, pinning him uncomfortably to the palate as it pushed more of him into the throat. His shoulders were now crushed into the tight space.

The muscle raised up to the roof of the mouth once more, squishing Warren’s face against the slimy palette. He squeezed his eyes shut to avoid getting slime in his eyes. Any hope of escaping was pretty much gone now. This was it.

Another loud gulp sounded around him as the throat gripped him, pulling him inside deeper. His face was now squeezed inside the tight muscular tube. He could feel his socked feet begin to press against a tight area before entering a more open space. He shuddered, feeling the swallows become more rhythmic now as they dragged him in deeper. More of his legs followed into the opening. He was only in up to his shins before his feet pressed against the opposite wall, but the stomach easily stretched to accommodate him as more slid in.

Warren’s chest was tight and he couldn’t breathe in the suffocating confines of the passage. He was completely at the mercy of the larger creature, as unsettling as it was. His hips and torso soon passed through the opening as well. His legs bent in order to fit properly into the small space, but he didn’t stop kicking. His struggles were easily viewed from outside as the giant watched in amusement. A growling hum was heard around him as his hands were finally squished into the tight throat and the giant enjoyed the sensations from the little struggles.

The rest of the little human finally slid inside, curling up in the tight, squishy environment. He immediately gasped for air, coughing a few times to get used to the thick, humid air that burned his lungs at first from the sheer temperature before he gradually got used to it. He could hear the giant take in deep breaths around him as well, as his airway cleared. He felt a firm pressure against his back and he scowled through grit teeth, aiming an angry kick at the walls.

“Y-you f-frickin’ monster.” Warren growled.  

“Hm?” The giant’s voice responded around him casually. “Oh wait-- were ya insulting me or addressing me?”  

Warren frowned bitterly, curling up tighter, knowing his struggles couldn’t get him anywhere anyways. The environment was hot and slick and gross, and he hated how the walls seemed to have a mind of their own as the involuntary peristalsis continually massaged at him. He could recall how quickly the sheer heat had sapped him of energy before, and didn’t like being weakened like this, despite already feeling the beginnings of it draining his energy.

At the lack of response, the giant chuckled, rubbing at the small form in his gut. He got to his feet, walking along through the forest. He quickly found Warren’s flashlight that he had dropped and scooped it up, putting it in his pocket.

Warren’s heart was still racing from the bad scare, but was beginning to slow down a bit as he tried to disconnect himself from the fact that he had just been eaten. He knew Eli wouldn’t kill him, so at least there was that small reassurance. He still hated this place no less, however.

“Hey kiddo?” 

Warren grimaced as he felt a jab on his back as the giant poked at him. “What.” the hunter’s voice didn’t sound too happy.

“How do ya feel about bein’ one of those lousy Hunters now? I’m tryina show ya that… It won’t work out. You’re just gonna end up getting killed. Ya know how easy it is to eat you?”  

Warren shivered. He pulled his arms up around his legs, tucking his head close. It was like he was trying to appear even smaller. “I don’t want to know.” He returned in a low voice. He sighed. “Monsters are just… stronger. But I can do something to stop them. I just need to try harder.”  

Eli let out a blunt laugh. “Do ya really wanna know how many people I’ve heard say that? And how they ended up?”

Warren didn’t respond. He grimaced as the stomach muscles churned slightly around him, holding him in place. He heard gurgles come from nearby. Just the silence accompanied by the slick, churning sounds of the giant’s insides were enough of an answer to Eli’s question.

Eli groaned, continuing to walk through the forest as he navigated the route with Warren’s scent on it.

“You’re being awfully quiet tonight. Where’s that fighting vigor?” Eli was clearly growing impatient, as he tended to enjoy feeling his victim’s struggles within him. Warren’s lack of a fight was just annoying to him.  

Warren sighed. “What’s the point? I’m not going to be able to get out of here until you let me anyways.”

Eli rolled his eyes. “Well you aren’t fun. Do ya even know why I’m doin’ this? I told you last time we met that ya have to take care of your sisters. What a good lot of takin’ care of I’m seein’ right now. Throwing your life away to fight monsters that you’re never gonna beat? Really? What do ya think they’re gonna do when you disappear one day and never return? Do ya even know how that’ll affect them?”

The giant’s voice raised to a booming volume around him, shaking the walls of the human’s fleshy prison. Warren winced. “W-why do you care?” The Hunter retorted.

“I DON’T. I couldn’t care less about ya pathetic little humans. The only reason why I’ve never killed ya has nothing to do with mercy. Don’t for a second think you’re too special to kill. I just don’t want some other giant or monster to go off wastin’ a meal that I spared. That’s lame.”

Warren was silent for a moment. Something about the giant’s words didn’t add up. There was still some curiosity on why Eli ever started sparing the lives of humans, but he knew how Eli resisted explaining last time and didn’t want to cause any triggers that could endanger him.

“I’m still going to hunt monsters.” Warren said quietly, afraid of Eli’s response.

“Then what’s the point in keepin’ ya alive now? Maybe I should just digest ya and get your death over with, since you’ll be getting killed on the job soon anyways.”

“N-- DON’T--!” Warren tensed up, flinching as he felt the stomach clench around him again, accompanied by gross gurgling sounds. He struggled in place, trying to reorient himself in the darkness. He was now sort of lying on his back, in a good enough position to spring a strong kick upwards where he assumed the lungs to be. “I s-swear Eli--”

Eli hiccupped as the kick came in contact with his lungs, actually hurting a bit. He pressed a hand against his stomach to immobilize his prey. Warren panted in the hot, close confines, finding it hard to breathe while stuck in this new position.

“What’s the point in letting you go, hm?”  

Warren shuddered, pressing his elbows out to try to free enough room for him to breathe. He panted for a moment to try to catch his breath. Despite being covered in slime, he was oddly sweating in the sweltering environment. It was exhausting to fight against the walls to struggle for breath.

“Be-- because…” He paused between breaths for a moment, thinking desperately. “L-look, just now you were-- were offering me a chance of practice to fight or sur-- survive being attacked by a giant--”  

“And you failed.” Eli quipped with an amused snort.

“I know-- I know-- but-- what if I kept trying-- you know-- you know a lot more about monsters than me. I could learn more about how to fight them properly, and how to survive. You hate the other giants, right? What if I was able to help?”

It was a strain to even gather breath at this point. He knew he couldn’t keep this up long, and his struggles only seemed to bring further enjoyment to his captor instead of persuading him to release him.

Eli raised a brow, lightening his grip slightly. He paused in his strides in the forest, one hand going to scratch the back of his neck in thought and the other to rub at the form of the little human in his gut, just thankfully with less force this time.

“You mean, like train you?”

Warren squirmed slightly, not enjoying the rubs against his side and feeling disgusted that the giant would gloat over him like a filling meal instead of a person.

“Y-yes.”

There was a rumbling hum around him, as if in thought. Then a chuckle.

There was no response for a while, and Warren laid there in the draining heat, already beginning to feel his strength leave him as the fatigue settled in.

After a while of movement (assumedly Eli walking), the stomach grew tighter, crushing around Warren’s form. Warren struggled at first fighting back and panting before his head was sucked back into the throat from the sheer pressure and he was brought upward. He was being released!

The convulsing muscles tugged him along, feeling even tighter than before, almost to the point of crushing his very bones. There were slick gagging sounds as light poured in and his head pressed back through the mouth. The scruff of his shirt was roughly grabbed and he was pulled the rest of the way out with disgusting slick sounds. Saliva trailed from his form, connecting to the giant’s mouth.

Warren gasped for air as soon as he was freed, shivering violently as he was re-exposed to the bitter chill of the air. After being in the scalding stomach for a while, the sudden change of temperature shocked his body. He continued to gasp, wiping his face and blinked his eyes open to look at the giant. He grimaced as he saw the threatening face so close. Eli was smirking down at him and raised a hand to wipe the slime off of his jaws.

“Well that knocked some reason into ya… hopefully.” The giant huffed. He lowered the little Hunter onto the ground. They were now near the side of the road where Warren had parked his car. “Also, word of advice; don’t ever park your car on the side of the road where you’re doin’ a hunt. The monsters can trace your scent right back to it and know which cars to watch out for, or even deduct where you life off of that… So yeah. Bad idea.”

Warren wobbled unsteadily as he got to his feet again, craning his neck up to look at the massive giant above him as he spoke. He just nodded stiffly, still shaky from the experience, but relieved that he was alive.

“Wait-- so you’re going to help me become a Hunter then?”

The giant shrugged. “Meh. Maybe. Dunno yet. I still don’t see much of a reason to help out any human, but I have reasons to help myself here.”

Warren furrowed his brow, still blinking blearily as his head was foggy from drowsiness at the moment. He opened his mouth to try to ask what these “reasons” were-- He didn’t want Eli to use this training as an excuse to keep on eating him. But the giant quickly spoke again.

“Anywho, you should probably get back to your sisters now. Don’t want them to get worried. Don’t worry, I’ll clear up the werewolf evidence.”

Warren groaned. “Wait-- but I need that werewolf! The U.L. needs it as proof--”

“You gotta earn your first kill. Doesn’t count if I do all the dirty work ya know.”

Warren sighed. He had a long way to learn to get good at this hunting thing. He dug into his pockets to pull out his car keys and grimaced as they were dripping with slime. “Ugh disgusting…”  

Eli smirked, offering a short pat to his fluffy hair condescendingly before he stopped, seeming to remember something. “Oh-- almost forgot this,”

He dug in his pockets, taking out Warren’s pistol and his shoes and tossed them over to the little man. Warren sputtered, quickly managing to catch them. His eyes narrowed at how carelessly the giant had just thrown a pistol at him, but at least it didn’t go off or anything. Warren shot a look at Eli uncertainly as he fumbled with his reclaimed items.

“Thanks.... Uh… You won’t use this whole training thing as an excuse to... you know… eat me again, right?” There was a slight waver in his voice.

The giant let out a short snort of laughter. “Alright, how about we look at it like this; if ya can actually escape me for once, ya won’t have to worry about getting eaten by anything.”

Warren’s eyes widened by a hair. He bit his lip and his eyes narrowed again. “F-fine.”

“Aw you get all cute when you try to act all fierce and stuff. Seeya ‘round Tiny.”

The giant stepped back, still smirking as Warren got flustered from his words, but he got back into his car with a sigh, dropping his shoes on the passenger seat and put his pistol into the glove compartment. He shot one last glance at the giant. “Don’t call me tiny.” Warren snapped back to the giant’s amusement. Without another word, Warren took a deep breath and began to drive away. He could see a small glimpse of the giant’s reflective eyes in the rear view mirror before he seemed to disappear at the edge of the treeline.  

Warren took in some deep breaths as he tried to wrap his head around what he had just agreed to. That giant had every reason to hate his guts. For all he knew, Eli might be toying with him to gain his trust. Warren was new to the whole Hunting thing, and already he must be breaking some sort of ancient rule not to team up with monsters. He really hoped that his judgement wasn’t wrong about this…

He would have to talk to Olivia about this later.

[mollyphoria]

Moodboard #3

I was not able to make another moodboard since February because there's not much difference from what I was feeling from back then to now. It was pretty much all the same. Still wanting to get away and have freedom, yk same old shit but it wouldn't be a surprise that some things did change throughout this 5 mos like :

My lovely Calico cat Jimina gave birth to 5 kittens originally. She was pregnant at the start of this year and blessed the world with 5 cute mini jiminas on March 9 (same birthdate of BTS Suga)

3 of the kittens inherited her orange and white fur while the other one inherited the dark, striped fur completely devoid of any white fur. Only one kitten out of 5 got her triple color coated fur.

Sadly only 3 survived. Jimina hid the kittens briefly first and then abruptly one day she brought them up again already grown up, able to walk and with their eyes open but she only had 3 kittens with her. I never got to find out what ever happened with the other 2 babies with one of the missing of the kittens was the one that fully inherited the Calico cat status of Jimina which devastated me the most and I'm still heartbroken to this day that some of her babies didn't get to live like their siblings. I don't want to think that they died, I want to actually believe that they somehow survived without their mother miraculously but it's only the plausible reason why they never showed up at all 😞

The 3 surviving kittens tho is a lot of fun! They were rumbustious and full of energy. They were always playing and running around in my mom's garden. Climbing up a tree or an orchid branch, playing hide and seek through the plethora of plants. It was a treat to see them just having fun and I took lots of videos. I decided to name them after the BTS maknaes nicknames which is Kookie, Mochi and TaeTae. All 3 kittens have a very distinct personality from each other like you could immediately tell that Kookie is more introverted than the other two, his more reserved and prefers to be alone most of the time, TaeTae is more adventurous and playful but he doesn't trust that easily while Mochi on the other hand is the most extroverted and trusting out of all (FYI: I named them first without knowing their personalities believe it or not). Overall they brought so much life and extra joy in me. Now that they are 4 mos old, they don't play that much anymore, I guess it's really part of growing up regardless of what species. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Now onto my summer. I was dreading it's arrival. It's not fun when you don't have an AC at your house in the hottest season. But anyways this summer I've been having this strong desire to experience Italian summers. I just wanted to be in Italy soooooo bad. I just want to ride my bicycle anywhere in rural Italy in a summer floral dress and eating a delicious gelato after while listening to Love my way by the Psychedelic furs. Yes this strong desire got even stronger after watching the movie Call me by your name. It envoked so much nostalgia within me which is weird because I've never set foot in Italy before but the feeling of longing that I experience just thinking about spending your summer in Italy is very strong.

Additionally, speaking of bicycles I successfully finished my remodeling or rather repainting of an old bicycle we have here which is perfect for summer aesthetics. I mentioned before on my previous moodboard back in February that I was in the process of painting this bike and I included a picture of a bike that I would like my own bike to look like after I'm finish with it. And I'm very happy and satisfied with the end result overall! And I would love love to ride it around Italy!...... perhaps.

These are 3 of the most impactful things that had rocked my world within the past few months and they are in a form of a documentary, an animated podcast and an anime film!

1. Grey Gardens

I first discovered Grey Gardens when I was actively looking for any good documentary to watch so I went to Reddit recommendations and one user suggested grey gardens. Its description peaked my interest enough to go check it out and luckily the full documentary is uploaded in YouTube for free. And I must say I'm glad that I took the chance to watch this wonderful hidden gem!

Little Edie quickly got my full attention on her. She's one of the most wonderful and fascinating people to exist in our world and her mother big Edie was just as interesting of a character as well. The way they live their life, spending most of their time in a rundown mansion near a beach was truly a sight to behold in a weird, peculiar manner.

What gives me the most profound impact about this documentary is the topic of wasted youth with wasted potential and the ironic part when your very own lifeline equally imprisons you as well. And we see this most evidently with little Edie. There was a part in this doc that stuck with me the most and it's when the mother-daugther duo was sunbathing in the balcony and little Edie mentioned about wanting freedom from her mother and the grey gardens then big Edie answered:

"you can't have freedom when you're being supported"

And this has struck a chord on me so strong because I relate to it so much especially with my current situation. I also crave freedom from where I am right now but I couldn't because I'm not capable of freeing myself.

What's more tragic was little Edies rebuttal to her mother's hotknife realistic take which was you can't have freedom both ways. That you couldn't have freedom when you're not being supported as well. And it's very true. If you decide to go out in the world by yourself you will definitely be freed from the shackles of your former home & life but you will subject yourself to another imprisonment.

Basically We're never truly free in this life.

2. The Midnight Gospel

I think I've heard of TMG when it was about to launch on its release year and I remember i was anticipating for it to come out because i just took one look at the official poster & I knew I would like the animation then I learned Pendleton ward is a part of it & I'm a huge fan of his creations so it's a double treat but I didn't had the opportunity to watch it back then bcoz of my busy shitty life & I actually don't have Netflix. But I remember i downloaded one of its ost first things first.

Now fast forward to this year. I now have the time to watch every content out there that I missed from all the years of slaving my life away for absolutely nothing. one of those is TMG & it was a perfect timing. Ever since i took an hiatus from the rat race I decided to strengthen my spirituality & this time I want to try delving deep to Buddhism and certain philosophies which I don't have the time and energy to learn before and TMG was a great and perfect medium for me to learn further about this subjects as they tackle topics like mindfulness and meditation and much more other significant things, not to mention the superb,epic, psychedelical, full of awesomeness animation on top of equally superb awesome soundtracks is*chefs kiss ( I still have an LSS to the prisoner's song.. 🎵drinking blood from a stump of a prison guard that I just chopped up....🎶)

I felt like the universe intended for me to watch this later than sooner because if I had the opportunity to watch it back then, I think I wouldn't/couldn't appreciate this show as much as I do now. So thanks universe!

TMG is honestly one of the best show to ever grace the planet imho. An easily perfect 10/10 for me.

3. To the Forest of Firefly Lights

Now I've watched a lot of animes last and this year and I can tell in full confidence that this is the best of them all. I'm sure it's subjective but this one checked all the box for the most compelling story & amazing artwork for me.

Maybe I long for something similar with the characters, It was just so fascinating and huntingly beautiful to have someone or something (whatever your preference is) from a different realm to be by your side. Maybe I would also like to look forward for summer season to come for once, to get excited and get rejuvenated on a hot summer that otherwise would make my life hell. Or maybe and most definitely I just needed someone like Gin as a source of my utmost happiness and comfort.

Overall this anime had made me feel so much warmth in my heart with its unadulterated poignancy and I just couldn't get enough of it. What a masterpiece ✨

Ps: I recommend listening to Warning Sign by Coldplay after watching to the Forest of Firefly Lights 🌹Check it out ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

[avanalae]

Hayden’s Cat

Here we go, all! Welcome to my fanfic for the glorious webcomic that is Hayden’s Notes! Please see the comic here on Tapas and check out the lovely creator, Yufei, here on Tumblr.

I warn you now that this is pretty much 5k words of pure self-indulgance. I wanted to write sass-baby Hayden with his reluctant softness taking care of something I made up so I could have a way of smothering and mothering the brat. So this is focused on Hayden and her, though Cat and Shy play a part, too, to varying extents.

So yeah, if that makes you interested at all, please enjoy! I’m not expecting many notes on this, but I didn’t write this for attention. I wrote it for myself and Yufei.

Fandom: Hayden’s Notes Characters: Hayden Carter, Cat, Shy, Original Female Creature Warnings: Mention of poaching and harm to creatures Rating: G Summary: Hayden is good at getting himself into messes and somehow coming out mostly alright in the end, sometimes even with a bonus! Things like a new artifact to examine, a riddle to solve, or a mystery to puzzle out. Or, sometimes, a new friend.

___

It had been entirely unintentional.

Completely and utterly coincidental.

Honestly.

…

Alright, so maybe he has a problem sticking his nose into things but that’s not a bad quality. People are curious by nature, after all. But maybe in his case it leads to more problems than anything else.

But no matter how hard he tries, no matter his attempts to not get involved, what happens?

He gets involved.

_

Hayden had been on the hunt for a rare artifact making the rounds through the black market in town. Something like a monkey’s paw, according to the rumors, but rather more catastrophic. It sounded terribly interesting when he first heard of it, and he isn’t in the habit on denying himself. Day three into his investigation leads him to a warehouse. Obvious and so typical Hayden nearly feels his interest drop into nonexistence, but he plows on.

As it turns out, though, he’s going to have to reconsider the source this tip came from. Not only is the artifact not here, but he almost stumbles right into the middle of an illegal creature circus. Scrambling out of sight and cursing himself for not noticing the silencing wards sooner, he takes a moment to assess the situation.

He should leave.

In fact, he takes two whole steps back the way he came, fully intending to do just that.

But then there’s a crack of a whip and a pained trill from the stage. He looks back and seals his fate. This is going to be annoying.

After a heavy sigh and running his hands through his hair several times, he straightens and takes stock of himself. Not much in the way of supplies, unfortunately, just the standard things he takes when he leaves his house. Which, granted, is much more than the average person would have on hand, but is not nearly enough to easily take on this whole mess. So, he uses one of his emergency disillusion spells with a sigh at the cost of having to replace it.

He keeps them on hand because so many places, especially the not so legal ones, use detection spells for things like invisibility. However, because they are so often in use (usually in said illegal places), they often don’t check for most illusions.

He has only half an hour before it wears off, so he gets moving.

_

Hayden is very frustrated.

He swats at the shisa snapping at him from its cage once again, only making the lion-dog growl harder. While not actually part lion, they usually reflect similar mannerisms of them. However, they are dogs and are beasts meant to ward off evil spirits. A double whammy. At least the hellhound is only staring intently at him, pacing restlessly in its own cage. He’ll set their cages to release after he’s long gone.

The birds had been easy enough to free, and he sacrificed another item to send an illusion out to the stage for the daltokki he had already released. There aren’t many more creatures after that, and most of them don’t even acknowledge Hayden as they flee. Whatever, he’s not used to being thanked, anyway.

Finally, he gets to the last cage (aside from the dogs, of course). It’s a small one on top of a crate. Inside is a young cat, likely not quite a full adult yet. Its curled up, staring at him, and Hayden takes a closer look. Its fur is dark brown, almost black, with bright eyes that are fully blue. There’s a slight darker hue that follows his movements, hinting at a separate pupil or the like.

Its unhealthily skinny and shaggy, with- oh. He steps closer, not responding to the tensing and hiss he receives. He can see ragged stumps on its back.

A katzengeist, he thinks as he runs through what he knows. A very reclusive and relatively solitary species. Not necessarily malicious but most definitely mischievous, typically heavily distrustful of humans. Generally small shapeshifting spirits with coveted illusionary capabilities, relatively limited power over the elements, and other minor abilities. They are born as cats with wings, though they can take many shapes as they grow in age and ability, they often have a preferred form aside from that one.

As it is, this one should be able to use its abilities to heal itself, to mend its wings and escape. However, Hayden is quite sure it is currently unable to. He glances between the undernourished form, weak trembling, and the iron cage. Signs that it wouldn’t be able to escape, let alone survive on its own for now.

He sighs and mentally rolls his eyes at himself. He is going much too soft. None of the others had been in good shape either, but at least they could run away. “Hey, if I release you, will you allow me to take you home and treat you?”

The swishing tail stills, and the threatening rumble stops. It stares at him incredulously.

“Come on, we don’t have much time. I can show you my home and you can stay there until you recover.” Its tail flicks once but otherwise it remains still. “You won’t be alone, of course. Other creatures stay with me or tend to come and go.” There’s faint noise coming from the stage now, clapping, possibly.

Hayden gives it a moment, trying to be patient. It pays off when the katzengeist huffs and relaxes. He nods and opens the cage quickly, helping it out of the confined space. With the catlike creature in his arms, he takes one last once-over of the room and checks the cages with the growling shisa and the tense hellhound.

Then he’s gone, hurrying away so the dogs can escape in time. He may hate the beasts, but he hates abusive humans more.

_

The katzengeist is mostly limp in his hold, but the weight is hardly an issue with its unhealthy size. He gets some struggle when he maneuvers it to check for immediate injuries and barely dodges another scratch to the face when he checks for gender. “Sorry, sorry, just wanted to check. I didn’t think you’d be up for answering me right now, don’t give me that look.” He gets an annoyed huff in response. “Besides, I didn’t want to keep calling you ‘it’ in my head when there was an easy way to check. I imagine I won’t be getting your name anytime soon, so I guess I’ll call you ‘Little Lady’ for now, if that’s fine.”

He’s almost to the library when he finally gets a response. So long, in fact, that he doesn’t realize what it was a response to, at first. But she goes limp in his hold and whacks his arm with her tail. A reluctant agreement, but agreement, nonetheless. She stays compliant as he adjusts her to dig his key out of his pocket and open the door to his place.  

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Hayden says dramatically, spreading the arm that isn’t holding Little Lady with some flair as they enter. Tossing the keys aside he strides over to the stairs. “I’m sure you’ll like it here, for however long you end up staying. You’ll meet everyone in time, it’d take forever to try and introduce you, considering how often they all like to hide away or come and go.” When he reaches the bottom, it’s unusually quiet. Not very surprising, it often is when someone else comes in with him, let alone someone or something unknown.

“Everyone, this is Little Lady. We’re going to help her heal for a bit until she feels ready to go, alright?” Lady’s tail twitches at the shift in the aura of the room. It’s not benign, but it’s welcoming enough to assure Hayden that no one or nothing is going to jump out right now. “See, it’ll be okay. I’m sure you’ll all get along fine.”

Hayden carries Little Lady over to the small table he set aside for treating injuries. A little health station of sorts. Not that he usually needs it, but it’s handy to have in situations like this. The young katzengeist is docile as he treats her, cleaning her up the best he can before covering the wounds. He’ll assume for now that until she’s stronger things will be slower to heal.

“Alright,” he comes back to check on her, “I’ve set up a little corner for you that you can adjust to your liking.” He holds out his hands and she sighs before leaning into him so it’s easier to pick him up. He holds her gently and carries her over to the basket where he’d added several soft blankets, towels, and other scraps he could find. The basket is a large thing from an old job, so he thinks it’ll work fine if she decides to grow some more while she’s here. “I added what I could find on short notice. You can poke around later to see if there’s anything you’d like to add. I just ask that you leave anything that looks like it’s being used or is in the closet alone.”

She pokes around at the cloth as she settles in, nudging things around as she adjusts her new temporary nest. “I’m sure you’ll leave the artifacts and such alone. I’m not sure why anyone would want things like that in their beds, regardless of having seen the things I have.” He grimaces at the thought but is quickly distracted as she finishes curling up. She’s mostly buried under the blankets, but she seems quite comfortable. “Alright, I’ll leave you to get some rest. I’ll have some food for you in the morning, sorry that I don’t really have anything right now. There’s water for you here,” He gestures to a small bowl near the basket and stands to stretch.

He walks away to get ready to meet with his own bed at last. Once he’s tucked under the covers, he finds himself listening for the soft breathing of his new tenant. It’s soft, but not nearly as labored as it was, with the occasional sigh along with the rustle of the blankets when she shifts.

His fingers find a familiar scar to rest on.

“Humans truly are… the cruelest of species, aren’t they?”

_

The next week isn’t too unusual, even with his new visitor. Little Lady is rather quiet and hardly leaves her little nest except to eat, use the facilities (she’d nearly bit him when he suggested a litterbox so he just leaves the bathroom available for her), and sit near him on occasion when he’s working on a project.

Shy had come out the third day of her stay and they had hit it off surprisingly well. His familiar is the only one she’ll let close, though that’s not a surprise, considering how cute the shadow speck can be. She also seems to at least tolerate the calbri – an ancient spirit that takes the form of a hummingbird – that he had stolen from poachers to study before returning it home. It’ll flutter around her and occasionally she’ll let it rest on her head.

Like he thought, she was getting stronger quickly. She moved much better, often hopping up on the table to see what he’s working on, and her wings had almost fully reformed. She appeared to have wings similar to a blue morpho butterfly, and he was hoping that she’d let him take a look before she left. He’d not seen one with insect wings before, though really, he’d only seen two and that was on accident and didn’t end well for him, so he probably shouldn’t count it.

_

Two weeks in, he brings home a pod.

When Cat first blooms, Little Lady starts sitting by its pot more often. Cat grows more quickly than a regular plant, of course, but she hardly seems to leave its side before it is 3 feet tall and much more active. Hayden is already growing fond of the pretentious little plant. It has plenty of personality, that’s for sure, and seems to be quite happy with him.

Speaking of, however… He glances at Lady. She’s almost completely healed at this point. Her wings are fully formed again, large and glimmering. She has put on weight, looking much healthier and is moving without any issue. But something seems to be holding her back, something that is weighing on her. Perhaps she’s thinking about asking to stay.

Hayden rubs the back of his neck.

He guesses he wouldn’t mind. She’s not usually any trouble, at least not to him. She is quite the trickster and gives as good as she gets when the others prank or pester her, but she doesn’t usually go out of her way to do so unless she’s quite bored or has a reason. She seems to enjoy spending time with him quietly, as well, considering how often she sits with him as he works. She has also started greeting him at the door, of all things. Sure, it’s from a few feet away, but when he gets back, she’s there waiting. She’ll watch as he eventually makes his way downstairs before moving and leaping down to continue with whatever she’d presumably been doing before he’d returned.

It’s nice, in a way. The waiting and quiet company.

And Hayden was aware enough of his own selfishness that he understands he doesn’t want to give that up.

_

Three weeks later and Cat has continued to grow. Shy and Little Lady continue to grow closer, and really start involving Cat with things. It’s hilarious to watch, because Cat has a way of bringing Lady’s childish side out; he’ll find her leaping from vine to vine on Cat as Shy chases her or the other way around. Things like that. He smiles when he sees it, it’s good for such a young creature to start acting more her age.

To show that the fight hasn’t left her.

_

A month in, he notices Little Lady stares at him more frequently when she thinks he isn’t looking.

One night he spots her on the way to get a drink. She sits upstairs, looking at the door. Just sitting, staring at the door, almost completely still aside from the occasional twitch of her tail.

The next morning, he catches her looking at him again but this time she doesn’t look away. She stares at him intently, her tail flicking twice.

He quirks a smile and tilts his head at her but doesn’t say anything.

Guess there’s no getting rid of her now.

_

Several days after she had decided to stay, Hayden is working on a project. He’s focused intently on the sculpture in from of him, trying to decrypt the runes carved into the sides. His head is propped up against a fist while the other hand taps the pen he holds against the table. He’s aware of Little Lady being on the table with him, she’d been there for a while and was watching Cat when he last looked.

He blinks at a tap against his arm. He turns his head, not bothering to move otherwise, yet. He chokes a bit when he comes face-to-face with Little Lady. She is sitting right next to the arm he’s propped his head on, her tail tapping at him as it sways. He stills, watching her, and she… she noses at his hand.

Hardly daring to move much, he slowly lifts his head and turns his hand just a bit-

And she leans in, her head fitting easily into the curve of his fingers. He scratches absent-mindedly, eyes sharp as she closes hers, letting him pet her for several minutes. He indulges her, relaxing a bit more himself, and manages a laugh when she butts her head against his hand to stop him. She turns and hops off the table, then, and pads off to do who-knows-what.

Hayden rubs his thumb and forefingers together, smiling. He can’t help but be glad at this moment, the first where she approached him instead of allowing contact for any number of reasons. But he knows what this means.

He’s the only one around here with human hands, after all, and nobody gives better scritches.

_

The sock in his hands is just a regular sock, he thinks.

Hayden stretches the material again, trying to identify what happened. He’s sure he had discarded this sock and its twin when the holes had become too bothersome. They were one of his favorite pairs, so he’d been reluctant to part with them, but sentimentality doesn’t help with blisters. Yet here they are, in much better condition.

He squints harder at it and takes off the one he’d just put on before noticing this to look at as well. They’ve been mended, it looks like, with some skill. They aren’t perfectly fixed, having been used far too long and far too much, but they could definitely withstand some more wear. He can’t help but try and puzzle it out, running his fingers along the fabric to find that they’ve been darned with thread, the color an almost exact match.

What or who would be mending his clothes? And how? And, actually, the better question would be why?

He decides to keep an eye out for now.

_

Little things go missing, sometimes, though certain things reappear after a while. His clothes, specifically.

On one memorable occasion, he’d thought he’d misplaced a shirt he’d unfortunately be stabbed through on a job. But one morning as he was getting dressed, he found it hanging in his closet, as pristine as it could have been. Not a speck of blood or sign of the rip. Well, not quite, as he can feel the slight bump of the stitching when he looks for it, but close enough. Suddenly mad with curiosity, he throws himself into his closet. He doesn’t have much in the way of clothes, so it doesn’t take too long in comparison to some other things he’s done spur-of-the-moment.

Hayden finds that 3 of his shirts have been fixed aside from that one, along with half of his pants and most of his socks.

“What is…?” He narrows his eyes and thinks. There are only so many creatures in his apartment right now aside from him, and not all of them would be able to do things like this. And he’s not sure on how many of those would be willing to or want to do such a thing.

He thinks further, looking back on the last week as well as he can. He’d been out on RSS business for a few days and had come back quite annoyed, but with a new, exciting project successfully snatched out from right under Wolfe’s nose. He’d been rather absorbed in that, but now that he thinks about it…

He glances over to the table by his bed. The glass he’d left there last night is gone. Half-dressed, he jogs over to the sink, and spots it quickly – washed and placed on the shelf with the few other dishes he has. He makes his way around the rooms, finding little, innocuous things. The blanket draped over his favorite chair has been neatened, folded, and laid more purposefully.  The papers he’d scattered on the table in his search for a specific one are in neater piles, similarly to where they had been before his impatient search.

The chair at the worktable scrapes against the floor when Hayden falls into it. He hides his face in his hands, rubbing in sudden frustration. How, exactly, had he not noticed this? “Ugh,” he pulls on his own cheek in punishment, “I can’t believe this. Is this some sort of prank?” He sighs and slumps further. Cat prods him with a vine and he doesn’t bother to react to it, too caught up in thoughts of an invader or some sort of-

“Urk-“ he chokes as he’s yanked back, the chair almost tipping too far before it lets go and he manages to fumble for balance. “Cat!” He turns and glares, but Cat only whacks him on his forehead. He covers the stinging with one hand, “What in the world is going on with you?”

Suddenly Shy hops up from the table to his shoulder, making questioning noises.

“What, I,” Hayden blinks, “I, uh, I’m fine.” Cat raises another vine and he jumps back, almost sending the chair over again, “I am! I’m just, well.” He weakly waves a hand at the room at large. “Have you guys noticed the whole…” he waves some more, searching for the words, “cleaning, uh, fixing… thing?”

He trails off and waits for any response, but Shy blinks off his shoulder and Cat very obviously turns her attention to other things.

Huh.

Well, the fact that they blatantly know what’s going on is sort of encouraging. In its own way.

Kind of.

_

In the end, it takes an embarrassing week of trying to figure it out, one job from the RSS turned down (much to uninteresting), subtle and not-so-subtle interrogation of his “flat mates,” and rather more spells than he thought he’d have to use, he finally gets it.

In the end, all it took was just paying more attention. Which is so much harder than people think or say it is, Hayden swears.

He started paying more attention to the things that appear around him. A fruit or other easy to prepare and eat snacks happen to appear on the table when he gets caught up in something and misses meals. Sometimes things he’s quite sure he didn’t get on the last grocery run will appear, which is even more interesting. Things he’s searching for, like his chisel or a dropped screw, will be easier to find or will show up in places he thought he’d already looked. However, it’s usually just small things, but that might also be because it’s typically harder to lose something large.

All these little things start adding up and eventually Lady Luck pokes him at just the right moment.

_

It’s the middle of the night when it happens, and since Hayden’s been a bit more high-strung recently due to the mystery, he wakes when he hears a subtle noise. He blinks sleepily, but registers another noise before he moves, so he plays dead while trying to look around as best he can. There’s a bit of a shimmer in the corner and he blinks away the last little bit of sleep.

There’s a little ball of faelight floating just above a small figure, sitting on the cabinet in the corner. It’s rather humanoid, and Hayden wishes he had his glasses on, but he does his best. It looks a bit childlike, but another minute makes him tentatively decide on female, at least in mannerisms. Dark brown hair curls around her shoulders and luminescent blue eyes focus on what in front of her. She’s wearing a simple cover, possibly some plain tunic that is sleeveless and covers her down to the knee. He looks for the ears but can’t see them from this distance or through her hair.

He suddenly notices she’s holding a sewing needle, one that is probably as big as her arm, and Hayden realizes it’s a standard needle. He didn’t realize he had any outside of the ones used for stitching wounds. Unless that’s what it was, but he can clearly see fabric around her once he looks. She fumbles with the large (comparatively) implement for a moment before focusing and running the needle through the cloth.

It’s certainly an odd thing to see and he doesn’t realize what exactly he’s watching until she shifts, and little wings furl out to help her lift off the table as she pulls the stitch tighter.

He chokes and she startles, dropping the needle and darting into the shadow of the cabinet’s shelves.

Bolting upright, Hayden does his best not to fall off the bed, “W-Wait!” He stands, but falters in his first step forward. Swallowing, he stops, scratching at his cheek. There’s no noise or movement, all but the two of them fast asleep, though Cat seems to be stirring at his quiet outburst. He looks over, a bit closer and at a better angle now that he’s standing and sees the familiar bundle of his coat.

“That’s…” he sighs, and his hand rises to run through his hair. “Sorry for startling you like that, Little Lady.”

She doesn’t respond, but there’s a slight shift in the shadow.

After a minute of the quiet, he steps back and sits on the edge of his bed. “You don’t have to come out, but can I talk?” No response. “You’re sneakier than I gave you credit for, that’s for sure. I didn’t notice until about two weeks ago that something was up. Who knows how long you’d been doing it! It’s quite impressive.

“It really threw me for a loop, you know. I never bother with such things, myself, and haven’t really had anyone to do those kinds of things for me… well, let’s just say a long time since I’d even thought about it.” He looks over to Cat, who is definitely awake, and has little tendrils creeping towards the both of them. He doesn’t know for what, though, so he keeps on guard. “And I’m sure you’ve been going out to get things, like the fruit and nuts I’m positive I’ve never gotten before. And the mending…” He looks back over to the jacket, and then back at the shadow she’s hiding in. “Thanks, Little Lady.”

The shadow brightens, just a bit, with a soft blue glow before dimming quickly.

Hayden sighs, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have surprised you like this. I certainly didn’t intend too. I’ll leave you be.” One of Cat’s vines tickles his ankle and he lifts his foot away, bringing his legs up onto the bed. “I bet you knew about this, didn’t you, Cat?” It’s a rhetorical question, but Cat’s rumble is evidence enough.

He turns and pulls the covers back up, trying to let go of the surprise and other, lingering emotions so he can get back to sleep. He can see a faint light through his closed eyes at some point, but he lets himself just fall into sleep that had quickly started tugging at him.

_

The next day, his coat is hanging on the rack and Lady is nowhere to be found in any form.

_

Hayden starts growing concerned when a week passes and he still hasn’t seen her. The little things keep happening, especially the snacks when he gets distracted, but they aren’t as frequent. He’s a bit of a talker anyway, so he’ll occasionally mention something like he would if she were there or will say thanks for the snacks when they appear. Unfortunately, Wolfe decides to drag him out one day for a case and it takes a few days before he can escape back home. He doesn’t have any new toys, but he does have some interesting information to mull over for a while.

He lets out a gusty sigh when he closes the door behind himself, tossing his keys aside and his coat in the direction of the rack. He stumbles down the stairs, half tired and half annoyed at Wolfe, straight to the kitchen area for a drink. “I’m home,” he manages after a long draft of water, patting Cat’s head when it curls around him.

Wandering over to his bed, he sits on the edge, contemplating going to sleep for the night this early when he catches something. He blinks and looks over to the bed-side table and sees Little Lady. She’s sitting on the edge of it, looking up at him with those big, blue eyes. The cup he’d set down on the table is full of water once more and there’s a damp cloth next to it.

She watches him closely as he reaches out and takes the cloth, surprisingly warm and damp, though not wet enough to drip. He cleans his face of the dust and grime, feeling better for it. He keeps it in his hands as they drop to his lap and he looks at her, taking in more of the details. Her thick hair is has bit of a curved cut, falling to the just to the base of her neck in the back and to her clavicle in the front. It curls slightly at the ends, the newer, shorter hairs by her face curl cutely against her cheeks. The tunic is as plain as he thought it was and is a bit ragged. He doesn’t want to ask where it came from, having a bit of an idea already.

“Hey, Little Lady, good to see you.” She looks down and kicks her bare feet a little. Her wings are lax, drooping against the table and he hopes that means she’s not about to dart away. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

She looks up at him again, still kicking her feet. He stares when she opens her mouth.

“Lia.”

Her voice is a bit bell-like, though still a soft tone. He wonders if that was always her name, but it doesn’t matter, does it?

“Nice to meet you properly, then, Little Lia.”

He can’t help but chuckle when she huffs and looks down again, a bit of a blush on her cheeks despite her frown. Cat shoves him a bit, but it’s not aggressive, so he lets himself laugh a bit more.

Little Lady.

Lia.

[darkroom-wildlife]

Picture Perfect | Leviathan x MC

Word count: 1781 words

Inspired by the card: The Flower of Sensation

It was a wonderful day out in the Devildom so you and the other seven residents of the House of Lamentation decided it was best to spend the day soaking up the sun in the nearby forest. Beelzebub suggested that a picnic was in order so you and the brothers packed picnic essentials as well as things to keep yourselves occupied once there.

Finding a spot next to the lake, you laid out the picnic blanket and plopped yourself down onto it. The brothers made themselves comfortable in their own spots, while Beelzebub joined you on the blanket, happily munching on the snacks you’ve all brought.

As you felt the cool breeze blow, the feeling of contentment washed over you. You decided to lay down on the blanket and close your eyes. With your arms crossed under your head, you let out a happy sigh. Nothing could make this day any better.

And that’s when you heard a shriek.

Eyes shooting wide open, you quickly sit up and try to locate the source of the noise. You look behind you and see Asmodeus flailing his arms, a grin plastered on his face and a beautifully-decorated frame in one hand. At first you were amused, seeing Asmodeus so happy, but then you did a double take because how in the hell did none of you notice the considerably sizable frame he decided to bring along?

“Oh, I look absolutely amazing!” Asmodeus said, looking at his D.D.D. in Satan’s hand

“Take a few more for me would you, Satan dear.” He asks

Whether it be in awe or confusion, you decide to get up and walk towards the two brothers. The clicking sound from Asmodeus’ phone got louder and louder as you approached them. Asmodeus waved at you from behind Satan.

“MC!” shouted Asmodeus

“Oh, thank hell.” exclaimed Satan, “Finally, someone to take my place. I’ve been meaning to finish the book I brought.”

Now standing next to Satan, you give him a reassuring smile, “I’ll take it from here, Satan. You go read your book.” Before Satan could give his thanks, he was interrupted by Asmodeus.

“MCCCCCC! Come take a picture with me!” whined Asmodeus

“Maybe we should let Satan have his rest first, Asmo?”

“But MC, I need cute photos of us to post on Devilgram!” Darting your eyes around, you try to see if any of the other brothers weren’t occupied. To your dismay, all were quite busy doing one thing or another.

“A-asmo, maybe you and I could take a selfie? I could hold the phone for us or perhaps you could?”

“Oh, Darling, that’s brilliant! Come here, you~” Asmodeus says, as he motions for you to come to his side.

Taking the phone from Satan, you make your way behind the picture frame next to Avatar of Lust.

With your right hand holding onto the frame, and the other holding onto Asmo’s phone, you raise your left arm to capture the two of you. “Smile~”

click! You lower your arm to check on the photo. The golden gilded frame is barely in view, meaning the even more beautiful flowers in various species and colors were even less prominent. “I’m sorry, Asmo, perhaps you wanna try taking the selfie for us?” “I have an even better idea” cooed Asmodeus “Why don’t you go and ask Levi to take a picture for us!” You gulped. You only had the biggest crush on the purple-haired demon for the longest time.

Sensing your nervousness, Asmo chimes in, “Come on, it’ll be a good reason to talk to him. Besides, wouldn’t you just love to have the demon of your dreams look directly at you for an extended period of time?”

You hate that he was right. Leviathan’s nose was almost always buried in two things: anime or videogames. His nose could be buried in even better places, you think to yourself, a light blush spreading across your cheeks. “No, MC,” you scold yourself mentally, “let’s save the self-insert fanfiction for when we get back to our room, ok?”

You felt Asmodeus leave your side and you watched in dismay as he walked over to the Otaku demon. The latter was reading a manga, his eyes darting intensely back and forth between the pages. Asmodeus placed a hand on your dream boy’s shoulder, causing him to look up.

You couldn’t hear the words exchanged between the two but you saw Leviathan reluctantly get up, placing his manga in his pocket. As the strawberry-blond haired and purple-haired demons walked towards you, you couldn’t help but notice just how breathtaking the darker-haired demon looked. 

You barely saw Leviathan outside the confines of his room, so seeing him out in the sunlight was a pleasant surprise to you. The sun complimented his pale skin and a light blush tinged his face There was a shine to his hair, and his orange eyes looked absolutely beautiful in contrast to the blue sky and green trees.

“Got him, babe!” exclaimed Asmo as he made his way back to your side.

Leviathan was now in front of you with his hand extended. You look down at it and up back at his face. He’s almost as confused as you are right now. “Uhm, the D.D.D.?” he asks

“Oh right” you think to yourself. You extend your hand with the D.D.D. and you felt heat rise to your cheeks as your fingers brushed his open palm. If blushing was a contest, you and Levi would be battling it out for first place.

Raising the phone between his two hands, Levi clears his throat

“Ok, smile!”

You and the Avatar of Lust bring on your cutest smiles and poses.

click!

click!

click!

“Is that enough?” Levi asks.

“Lemme see!” says Asmo, gesturing for his D.D.D.

As he looks at your pictures, a brilliant idea strikes you. Looking over to the gushing Asmo and then to the seemingly bored Levi, you pick up the courage to ask the older brother,

“H-hey, Levi. Can you take a photo with me?”

“. . . Ah, of course. Hand me your D.D.D.” he replies

You shake your head and let out a small laugh, “No, silly. I said with me, not of me.”

The purple-haired demon raised a hand behind his head in confusion.

“Wh-why would you want a picture with me though, MC?” he asks, a blush evident in his face, “I-it’s not like I look any different today.”

“Oh, but you do, Levi! You’re always cooped up in your dimly lit room!” you respond

Before Leviathan could protest further, Asmodeus grabbed his arm and dragged him to where he stood behind the picture frame just moments ago.

“Quit whining, Levi. Just give MC her picture and you could go back to reading your stupid manga!” Asmo whined

“H-hey! ☆I’m a demon☆who is secretly head over heels for the human exchange student☆but I’m unsure how to tell them☆because I’m too shy☆because I’m unaware that the human exchange student likes me too☆ is NOT a stupid manga! Its plot is riveti-“

“Ok ok I get it! Just shut up and smile, please!”

Levi lets out a sigh. His free hand puts up a peace sign and he cracks a small smile.

“Move a little closer, you two!”

You and Levi inch closer together.

“Closerrrrrr”

You two are now shoulder to shoulder.

“C L O S E R” shouts Asmo, shooting you a wink

Leviathan shifts to have you slightly in front of him, making the distance between the two of you even smaller. You let out a nervous smile as you look at your D.D.D.

“Alright, smile!”

click!

click!

“Oh, antichrist, you two look awkward as hell. Tell you what, you put on a bunch of poses and I’ll keep taking pictures, ok?”

You nod and look at Levi, looking for some reassurance. He looks at you and gives you a nod and a smile, signaling that he’s ok with it.

click!

that’s when it clicked - your D.D.D. as well as your neurons.

“I won’t get another chance like this.” you thought to yourself.

As soon as you heard the next click, you dove straight for Levi’s face and planted a kiss on his cheek. As quickly as you’d gone in, you pulled away. Levi’s cheeks were as red as a Jersey Devil tomato and you could faintly hear Asmodeus cheering, the clicking of your D.D.D. going nonstop.

“Yesss! I caught that on camera! It’s super clear, too!” exclaimed Asmo, walking over to the two of you.

Showing you your D.D.D., you saw that he did indeed capture that spontaneous moment. You and Levi both look at it in wonder. It was so clear, your eyes closed as your lips make contact with his cheek, his cheeks in turn depicting a deep blush. It was beautiful. One could even say it was picture perfect. Hell, he definitely looked picture perfect. You raised your head to thank the strawberry-blond demon.

“Thank you so much, Asmo! I love you!!”

Letting go of the picture frame, you pull the demon in for a hug.

“Oh, I love you too, my darling MC!”

Your mind suddenly jumped back to Levi and your joy was quickly replaced with horror.

“Oh my god, L-Levi, I’m so sorry I-“ you began. You were interrupted by the shy demon.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I-I kinda liked it.” he said, looking away.

You were nudged by Asmodeus and he mouthed that he’s going to leave the two of you alone before walking off.

“You did?”

“Y-yeah”, he said as he slowly walked over to you

“In fact. . . . I uh . . .” he gulps, “would it be ok if you. . . send me a copy?”

“Oh. O-of course!” you stutter.

Switching over to your contacts, you click on his name and the message option. You attach the file and hit send. Levi’s D.D.D. beeps in his pocket in response. He whips his device out and checks the message.

He smiles sheepishly as he stares at the photo.

“T-thanks, MC.”

“Anytime!” you reply

You two looked at each other awkwardly before Levi spoke.

“I uh . . . I’ll be over there if you need anything.” he said, pointing to the picnic blanket a few feet away, “Thanks for the picture.”

Before you could reply, Levi sneakily plants a kiss on your cheek and hurriedly walks away.

Just when you thought this day couldn’t get any better.

Unbeknownst to you, just a few feet away, Leviathan is changing his D.D.D. wallpaper to that photo of the two of you. ------------------- If you’ve made it this far, I would like to thank you for taking the time to read it! I’m honestly not a big fan of Leviathan but boy oh boy let me tell you, I love how good Levi looks in cards! This card in particular got me feeling some type of way the past week, so I hope writing this helps me feel better lol.

[savannahsdrabbles]

Ocean Song - Part Two

rating: PG summary: Marine biology student April O’Neil makes a startling discovery.

notes: An AU originally based off of the 2012 TMNT universe, but can be compatible with most versions of the characters. <3 2.8k words. A03 link can be found here. Also special thanks to @cloakedrabbit and @starfiretheninja for beta-reading!

While he considered himself fairly levelheaded, there were a lot of things that ticked Casey Jones off: The referee calling foul play when an opponent obviously deserved to be body slammed, the cafeteria workers skimping on tater tots (in no universe was four enough), and people being jerks to those who couldn’t defend themselves.

The worst feeling of all, however, was when people intentionally kept secrets from him.

From the moment April O’Neil had walked into homeroom that Monday, he could tell that she had something heavy weighing on her mind. The redhead had avoided his attention-seeking gestures and whispers throughout class, seemingly intent on doodling in her notebook and not paying the slightest amount of attention to the lecture. She rested her chin in her palm, arm forming a barrier that blocked her page from anyone who walked past. Even when Casey flicked a pencil onto her desk, her only response was to absentmindedly return the utensil and continue scribbling.

By the time lunch rolled around, Casey was nearly shaking with curiosity and frustration over the unknown. With one hand firmly gripping his sack lunch, the eighteen-year-old searched the sea of dark hair on the patio and in the cafeteria, and then finally stuck his head into the library – a first for him. Sure enough, April was tucked away at a table in the far corner of the reference section with her nose to a computer monitor and the same expression of deep thought on her face. 

“Alright, Red. Spill.” April jolted when he dragged over a chair with a deafening screech and then flopped into it. Turning his lunch bag over on the table and scattering its contents, Casey shoved an apple towards the hand she was clutching the mouse with and then picked out a peanut butter granola bar to munch on. “I can tell you’re freaking out about something. Is it homework related, or what?”

“It’s nothing,” she muttered, quickly attempting to minimize the tabs she had open on the screen – though not before Casey caught a glance of the website.

“Mysteries of the Deep: Unexplained Open Ocean Phenomena,” Casey snorted, sending a spray of granola crumbs flying, and leaned over to elbow the girl playfully. “What, are you trying to find the loch ness monster or something? Cause I’m pretty sure that’s in Canada.”

To his surprise, April let out a hiss of pain and grabbed her ribs right where Casey had poked her. The smirk on his face instantly vanished, and Casey raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa – I didn’t mean to hit so hard – my bad! Are you okay?”

April’s face tightened for a moment as if she were going to argue, her brows arching into the sassy look that Casey was used to seeing whenever he whined about how useless math was, but then she heaved a sigh and dropped her hand from her side. The girl motioned for Casey to quiet down, and then stood up quickly to peer over the row of computers around them. Once she seemed satisfied that no one was nearby, the redhead relented. “I got attacked when I was diving last night.”

“Wait – what?!” Casey nearly inhaled his granola bar and had to pause for a moment to cough violently. “By what? A fish? Or one of the other divers?”

“Shhh!” the librarian hissed from across the room.

“Don’t freak out – I’m fine.” April waved a hand dismissively, and then launched into a whispered explanation of what had happened. Casey listened with a furrowed brow, constantly interjecting with questions and April constantly hissing at him to quiet down and listen so that they would not be overheard. “He’s at Hamato Labs right now – probably still on constant sedation watch until they decide what to do with him. Dad wanted me to just go back to school today like nothing had happened, but –”

“You keep calling it a ‘him’. Did you get a look at –”

“Ew – no, Casey! Gross!” April let out a muffled shriek of indignation and punched the boy in the shoulder, though her quivering lips betrayed the hint of a smirk that Casey instantly decided was worth the shoulder pain. “I could just TELL that it was a ‘he’. He gave off a ‘guy’ vibe, I don’t know. And maybe the other one, too – though I didn’t get as good of a look at him.”

Casey seemed to calm down at this, as he leaned back in his chair with a grin and kicked his legs up onto the table – which April quickly shoved off with a jerk of her head towards the librarian’s desk. “Alright, so what’s going to happen to ‘him’ now? Or wait – do you get to name him as a new species or something? Like the ‘genus turtle-us, April-us’, or whatever?”

April shrugged, her fingers tapping unconsciously on the notebook that Casey finally realized was in her lap. The spiral bound pages bore dozens of doodles from throughout the day, all bearing features of turtles with cartoonish expressions. Several words had been written and crossed out in the margins, which Casey read aloud.

“Raph-ale? Donatello?”

The girl snapped her notebook shut with a ‘PAP!’ seeming to just notice that he had been looking at it. “Art history homework – another college course. Anyway, I should probably get back to class now. Thanks for letting me ramble – it’s just a really weird situation and I’m actually kind of glad to talk about it with someone that isn’t another scientist.”

“Well, I am definitely not a scientist, so no problem,” Casey flashed a thumbs up as April began to gather her belongings. “So, when do I get to see him?”

April froze, her hands hovering over her backpack. “Excuse me?”

The boy lifted his head to double check that they were alone, and then leaned closer to April. “You tell me all about some bizarre-o turtle man that might end up being on National Geographic or something, and then you won’t let me see it? That’s pretty low, dude.”

“It’s not that I’m against you seeing him – it’s just that I’m more than likely not even supposed to be mentioning the fact of his existence to anyone outside of the research team. Any number of hippie organizations or other laboratories would spring at the chance to claim him. Besides – if we determine that whatever made him like this is the source of an imminent biological or ecological threat, the lab is going to want to keep it out of the public eye until they’ve discovered a solution.”

“C’mon!” Casey slung an arm over April’s shoulder to keep her from standing up and leaving the table. “I won’t tell anyone! I promise – I just want to get a quick peek! It’s not every day that a kaiju saves your girlfriend – ”

“I am in no way, shape or form your girlfriend, and if you ever say that again I will punch you in the throat.”

“- from a squid! Come on – please?” Casey clasped his hands in a praying position and stuck out his bottom lip. “Please please please please please – I won’t stop until you say yes – please?”

April observed him for a moment with an expression of disgust, and then let out a deep sigh, earning a whoop of approval and a loud ‘Shhhhh!’ from the direction of the librarian’s desk. “Fine. I’m heading back to the lab after school anyway. You drive, and I’ll get my dad to sign off on letting you in with me.”

“Alright, all aboard the Jonesmobile, woo woo – ow! Why did you hit me?!”

***

The rest of the day went off without a hitch – though April would be the first to admit that she was less than focused during class. All she could think about was her interaction with the turtle, and the bubbling feeling in her stomach that occurred when she considered the fact that she would get to see him again that afternoon. Casey showed signs of distraction as well – though that was fairly normal for him. April made a mental note to ensure that he was getting his homework done and turned in.

When the last bell finally rang, the two teenagers hurried out to Casey’s old Jeep and gunned it to Hamato Laboratories. A quick knock on Dr. O’Neil’s door with no response told them that he was tied up on the phone, so the two decided to head towards the labs anyway.

“I don’t think they’ll let you into the actual exam room without my dad present, but you’ll probably be able to at least look through the glass,” April explained as the two rode the elevator down to the lower floors. Several marine biologists and lab technicians passed them on their way down, each stopping to ensure that April was doing well after the incident the day before.

“Didn’t you say he’d probably be unconscious or sedated or whatever?” Casey asked. He looked thoroughly out of place in the sleek laboratory building, all skinny jeans and beat up hoodie in contrast to the white lab coats and slacks worn by almost everyone they passed. Even April had grabbed her monogramed coat from the locker area before boarding the elevator and had thrown her hair up into a bun. Despite this, the eighteen-year-old still carried himself with an air of utter ease and confidence that April couldn’t help but respect. “Is that because he hurt you?”

April hesitated before answering. “Not specifically? It’s typically a standard procedure to sedate larger animals – particularly if they’re not reacting well to the lab environment. That way if they lash out, they’re less likely to hurt themselves or anyone else. But I could tell that he wasn’t trying to hurt me yesterday – it was just an accident.” She rubbed a hand on her side and grimaced slightly as her fingertips traced the tender bruises. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy explaining that to my dad. He still thinks that I was freaking out and imagined a lot of what I saw and felt.”

“How can you be sure that you didn’t?”

April’s eyes snapped to Casey’s as the elevator let out a ‘ping’ to alert them that they were nearing the correct floor. “Excuse me?”

Casey shrugged. “Nothing against you, but while this thing is cool and big and stuff, isn’t it possible that you kind of hallucinated him being… human-ish? I mean – maybe it didn’t really know that it was helping you?”

“No. He knew that he was helping me.” The words she spoke swelled with utter confidence that dimmed Casey’s doubts. “I just know it. You’ll see.”

Right as the words left her mouth, the elevator doors opened into a stark white hallway offset by the dark cement floor beneath it. Pipes and power lines ran the length of the ceiling in either direction, the whirring that they produced being the only sound in the otherwise quiet hallway. As the duo stepped out of the elevator, the motion activated lights immediately kicked on and flooded the halls with a dim light. A dozen heavy doors lined the walls, each accompanied by a keycard lock and a glass window to allow observation from outside. At the very end of the hallway, a large set of double doors beneath a glowing ‘Exit’ sign signaled the entrance to the garage through which creatures were delivered.

“Welp. I’m pretty sure we are going to get murdered in this hallway.”

April snorted and grabbed for Casey’s wrist, dragging him down the hallway towards Exam Room D. “C’mon, don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not. This… just looks like a hallway that someone in Saw would get murdered in.”

“Wuss.”

***

Despite her words of reassurance, April couldn’t help but feel on edge as well. She had grown up visiting labs with her dad and following him around as he worked. The smells of antiseptic and metallic surfaces were woven through her earliest memories, combined with days spent happily watching fish moving about in their tanks as her father helped to rehabilitate everything from enormous seals to tiny starfish. Such laboratories were what inspired her love of science and biology, and had always served as a safe place in her memories.

But even as she swiped her keycard and pushed open the door to the correct exam room, her recently donned lab coat rustling quietly around her, she could tell that something was very… off.

Casey stuck close behind, the warning of staying by the observation window clearly forgotten – or ignored - as the two walked hesitantly into the dimly lit room. April noticed that the main lights had been turned off – not unusual for when researchers dealt with deep sea or photosensitive creatures – and the only light being offered was from the panels that hung around the examination tables and over the door that led out to the loading dock. Filtered water gurgled in several tanks around the room, adding to the illusion that the room might have been located underwater or someplace hidden away from the rest of the world.

“Dude,” Casey murmured quietly. “I didn’t expect this place to be so creepy.”

“It’s not, usually,” April felt a palm along the white walls until she found the light dimmer and adjusted it just enough that they had a bit more light.

“Holy crap. You weren’t joking about how big he is.”

A large glass cage, usually reserved for seals, stood in one corner of the room. The bottom of the cage had been lined with a layer of sand, which had apparently been kicked up by the creature quietly whining and shifting inside of it.

The turtle within was currently laying on its side with his armored back to the two teenagers and one leg stretched at an uncomfortable angle as it seemed to be attempting to pull itself completely into the far corner of the container. A closer look told them that the turtle had been shackled, a large iron chain around its left leg prohibiting him from crawling into his shell.

“Yeah – he actually seems smaller than I remembered…” The red head hesitantly took a step forward, eyes watching as the turtle took a shuddering breath and twitched. He didn’t seem to have noticed their arrival yet – proving the recent sedative to be quite effective. “When he was moving around in the water I could have sworn he was taller than I was, but now he doesn’t even look five feet tall!”

“Tall or not, he looks kinda dead,” Casey suddenly strode forward to stand beside April and pressed one hand to the glass, tapping lightly with his knuckle. “Wake up, dude!”

“I doubt that will do anything, Casey – he’s really drugged up at the mo-”

As if on cue, the turtle jerked in its sleep and flailed momentarily in the sand, eliciting quiet shrieks of surprise from the two observers. They both leapt backwards as the turtle rolled itself onto all fours, limbs still trembling from sleep and head shaking this way and that as the creature attempted to orient itself. There was a moment of silence as he seemed to suddenly remember his predicament, and then the turtle caught sight of April and Casey.

Eyes shrinking to pinpricks, the turtle let out a squawk of terror and scrabbled backwards on his hands and rear end until the chain grew taut and he couldn’t retreat any further, chest heaving and eyes flicking in every direction as he searched for a way out. With a jolt, April watched as the turtle threw his body sideways against the glass and clawed at the walls. The laboratory room echoed with sounds of distress as the creature began to click and squawk frantically.

“Uh – do we need to go get somebody?” the dark-haired boy pressed both hands to his ears and furrowed his brow. “’Cause he doesn’t seem to be very happy about being in there!”

“We should probably get one of the lab technicians to administer another dose of sedative,” April nodded her head back towards the door, though her eyes remained on the turtle. The creature was still clicking loudly as it balled its hands into fists and beat them against the glass. “The walls should be strong enough to hold him, but he might hurt himself if he keeps freaking out!”

“Sounds good to me!”

The girl motioned for Casey to follow her, backing slowly away from the turtle and reaching out for the door handle. As they backed away, the noise seemed to falter and then suddenly -

“Help!”

April froze, her hand inches from the doorknob, and then turned to meet Casey’s round brown orbs. “Did you-?”

“Help!”

The two stared at each other silently for a heartbeat, and then slowly turned to face the panting terrapin. The creature’s amber eyes had tracked them across the room, and now locked onto April’s own eyes with an intensity she had never seen before.

“Crap,” Casey murmured under his breath. “What did you - ?”

“Tasukete kudasai!” The turtle pressed his trembling palms against the glass, eyes round and searching as they moved to meet Casey’s. “Help! Out!”

Next Chapter

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

Leviathan’s Breath

“Cast a Shadow over the wilds of this universe. Return with glorious trophies.” -- Emperor Calus

Type: Bow

Slot: Kinetic | Energy | Heavy

Element: Arc | Solar | Void

Perk: Big Game Hunter - Fires a massive heavy bolt that staggers unshielded enemy combatants. Strong against Unstoppable Champions.

Trait 1: Chain Bowstring - Heavy-duty bowstring. Cabal design.

Trait 2: Leviathan’s Sigh - When fully drawn, the bolt creates a large concussive blast that knocks enemies back.

Masterworked Traits:     Colossal Quiver - Increases quiver size.     Archer's Tempo - Draw time decreases after every precision hit.

Ornaments: Bad Dog, Grimmest Hunter

Origin & Description: You know how the Cabal are big? Like their sidearms are the size of our regular guns and their shotguns are so heavy even Guardians have trouble carrying them? Well, turns out they made a bow and hoo boy. Built of riveted metal with hydraulic pistons and a literal chain-link string, Leviathan's Breath is the monster truck of bows. Pretty much the only reason we can pick it up at all is because it wasn't designed for an actual Cabal - Leviathan's Breath was the personal weapon of the Psion Flayer Voyc, huntsmaster/assassin to Emperor Calus, the deposed former ruler of the Cabal who spends most of his time partying, plotting, or both on his converted prison ship/pleasure barge Leviathan. Psions are a separate species conquered by the Cabal early in their history and still not-exactly-enslaved by them; they're treated as second-class citizens and kept in check in some way that also prevents them from growing into their full "adult" form as Flayers without special permission. We've only met a few Flayers, all in service of the military (then again, all Cabal we've ever met are in service of their military), and they're incredibly powerful telekinetics and telepaths. A Flayer armed with this bow? Not something I'd want to run into in a patrol zone, that's for sure.

More pertinently, Psion Flayers have slim humanoid builds and stand at or slightly above human height, in contrast to the seven-foot-tall turtle-linebacker-hybrid Cabal, and hence a bow made for one is also (somewhat) useable by a human being. Even so it still takes a Guardian a staggering 1354 milliseconds to draw Leviathan's Breath to full, which in Destiny firing times is a go-get-a-sandwich-this'll-take-a-while eternity that exceeds even similar day-ruiners like One Thousand Voices or Sleeper Simulant. Its arrowheads aren't sharp because why would they need to be - when you get hit by one of its telephone-pole arrows the pointy bit on the end is the least of your problems. Take the time to draw the bow allllllll the way to full and your shot also gains the Leviathan's Sigh, a fearsome concussive blastwave that knocks back your target and alerts everything else in that zipcode to your displeasure at their continued existence. Leviathan's Breath carries an intrinsic Stagger ability that stuns Unstoppable Champions - which, yeah, no shit, anything you hit with this is gonna be pretty dang Stopped - and its arrows come with special damage tuning to put as much hurt as possible on said Champions. And that is a lot of possible hurt.

We receive Leviathan's Breath not from a Cabal source but from Banshee-44, the Tower Gunsmith, who claims to have picked it up off Voyc's corpse back during the Red War, which was...let me check my watch...oh right, three years before that. Yeah, that "44" after his name isn't just to sound cool; Banshee is an Exo who's been through more than double the number of resets an Exo is supposed to, and as a result he has a bit of trouble remembering anything that isn't guns. Apparently he locked up Leviathan's Breath to give to us later and then stone-cold forgot about it. Oops. Once he remembers he tells us to go get it, so we hop around through the Tower to his workshop and find it ready and waiting for us in a cabinet...locked with a passcode that Banshee has, by now, totally forgotten. It's even got a clear front so you can see the bow right there inside. "Why don't we just break the glass and take it?" Well, when Banshee does remember he has things in his workshop, he apparently likes to make certain they stay there, so triggering the security system on that cabinet would be less than ideal. Instead the entire quest to get this exotic is literally you and your Ghost figuring out how to reset Banshee's passcode. It's a delightful twist on how these quests usually go.

So how'd Voyc end up in our neighborhood in the first place, let alone get herself dead with bow in hand? Well, Calus has a real mad-on for Dominus Ghaul (after all the guy did depose him) and decided the Red Legion's imminent assault on our solar system was the perfect time to launch yet another assassination attempt. He apparently sent Voyc to do Ghaul in early on in the attack. We don't know how it went wrong, and neither does Banshee-44, who simply found Voyc's corpse in the Tower during the attack and picked up the intact Leviathan's Breath just before the structure was evacuated completely. Somehow later down the line he heard the story of who Voyc was and what feats she and her bow had accomplished, all the ferocious monsters she hunted as trophies across the galaxy - and all the obstacles or annoyances to the Emperor she used this bow to erase as well. It made Banshee sad to hear that such a splendid weapon had been used for such sordid ends. So he decided to give it to us to serve a higher purpose. Which, alright - please nobody spoil that noble image in his mind, okay? Don't tell him about me sprinting and cackling while I draw it, preparing to send a whole wave of Hive thralls spinning hilariously through the air. Just let Banshee believe.

Destiny 2 Compendium Armarum Exoticarum

[ Ace of Spades | Ager's Scepter | Anarchy | Arbalest | Bad Juju | Bastion | Black Talon | Borealis | Cerberus+1 | The Chaperone | Cloudstrike | Coldheart | Collective Obligation | The Colony | Crimson | Cryosthesia 77K | DARCI | Dead Man's Tale | Deathbringer | Dead Messenger | Devil's Ruin | Divinity | Duality | Edge of Action/Concurrence/Intent | Eriana’s Vow | Eyes of Tomorrow | Fighting Lion | The Fourth Horseman | Forerunner | Gjallarhorn | Grand Overture | Graviton Lance | Hard Light | Hawkmoon | Heartshadow | Heir Apparent | The Huckleberry | Izanagi’s Burden | The Jade Rabbit | Jötunn | The Lament | The Last Word | Legend of Acrius | Leviathan’s Breath | Lord of Wolves | Lorentz Driver | Lumina | Malfeasance | Merciless | MIDA Multi-Tool | Le Monarque | Monte Carlo | No Time to Explain | One Thousand Voices | Osteo Striga | Outbreak Perfected | Parasite | Polaris Lance | Prometheus Lens | The Prospector | Queenbreaker | Rat King | Riskrunner | Ruinous Effigy | Salvation's Grip | Skyburner’s Oath | Sleeper Simulant | Sturm | Sunshot | SUROS Regime | Sweet Business | Symmetry | Tarrabah | Telesto | Thorn | Thunderlord | Ticuu's Divination | Tommy's Matchbook | Tractor Cannon | Traveler's Chosen | Trespasser | Trinity Ghoul | Truth | Two-Tailed Fox | Vex Mythoclast | Vigilance Wing | The Wardcliff Coil | Wavesplitter | Whisper of the Worm | Wish-Ender | Witherhoard | Worldline Zero | Xenophage ]

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 65

I am so, so sorry for getting this out so late in the day.  I know this should have gone up almost eight hours ago. Entirely too much has been going on.

Thank you for bearing with.

“Final systems check,” Grey announced, glancing briefly over from the display and nodding at me.

Noah waved its left liw and vomu in a very human gesture, albeit in multiple. “Proper recordings of every Terran scientific paper in our database are prepared to be communicated directly into your translation implant.”

“He means audio,” I stage-whispered to Conor and Maverick.  Tyche had marched out and read them the riot act after she and I cleared the air.  Their abashed apologies once she dragged them back were still under consideration, but I felt safer with them in the room.

I was also a bit loopy on the sedatives they had given me for my blood pressure. So sue me.

Rolling her eyes, my sister turned to Antoine. “And the connection?”

“Strong and clear,” he confirmed.

Maverick cleared his throat to get our attention. “If we can stream all this information directly into her implant, why aren’t we using this for learning?”

Antoine leveled a half-scathing glare – I couldn’t tell if I was more impressed he mustered any degree of ‘scathing’ or that he was tired enough to let it slip through – before explaining. “Any information retention will be trivial at best, and that would be largely because of Sophia’s exceptional memory. She is still essentially hearing several lectures in a row and repeating them back as soon as she hears it.”

Poor Maverick looked devastated.  Unfortunately, his pout was almost comical, and it took every bit of what little self-control I had left to keep from laughing.

It seemed I wasn’t doing as good a job as I thought, because Tyche turned away with a growl, hands flung in the air. “Okay, papers are queued up, connection to the implant is good. Did we get the medication figured out?”

“Confirmed,” Grey asserted without looking up. “Sophia, you will be in REM sleep, but still lucid.  This should let you control the dream and speak to Else.”

“So I’ll be hypnotized.”

Grey scoffed, but Antoine cut them off. “We discussed this, Dr. Hodenson. While you may not believe in hypnosis, it is a proven phenomenon.  While difficult to accomplish deliberately, I have witnessed Sophia subject to this mental state.”

“Wait, what?” My neck hurt from turning so fast to look at him.

“When you read. When you cook. When you wrap presents,” he ticked off on his fingers.

“I’m not hypnotized, I’m in the zone,” I argued.

Tyche rolled her neck and cocked an eyebrow at me. “That is literally hypnosis, specifically when you read.  I remember seeing you sit in a house with no heat, in January, in shorts and a t-shirt, sweating bullets while reading a book that ended up taking place in Mumbai in summer.  You get cravings for whatever foods your favorite characters are eating, even if you hate the food.”

“That’s not hypnosis, that’s suggestion,” Grey stated flatly.

“And hypnosis is the induction of a state of consciousness that makes you particularly susceptible to suggestion,” Antoine pointed out, equally flat.  With these two, it was practically a shouting match.

Heading off the galaxy’s calmest blow out, I spoke up. “So, creation’s most boring audiobooks, check. Overkill-quality headphones, check. Deep-fake VR drugs, check.” I pointed at myself with both thumbs, “Stoned and willing guinea pig, double check. Let’s get this done.”

Two hours into spouting off what seemed to be hematological extracts, I was considerably less stoned and significantly less willing.

“A low packed cells volume usually indicablood loss due to cell destruction or failure in bone marrow production, while high mean corpuscular hemoglobin concentrations – “

Please. Stop.

“Oh thank fuck,” I gasped, allowing myself to tune out the stream of information piped directly into my head. “Else, is that you?”

Yes, I am here.

“Well, at least it worked… you’re talking quite a bit better now.” I glanced around at the landscape.  While focusing on reciting two hours of scientific papers, I had to ignore it all.  Since the last time I was here, I managed to figure out that the Ark in my dreams was an analogue of my health, from Else’s perspective.  Right now, everything looked okay.  The walls were cracked, but all the pieces were in place. No water. All the lights were functioning. “Also, good to see I’m not dying.”

We wouldn’t let you die.  We need you.

“Not all of me,” I pointed out to thin air.

Your hemoglobin, Else’s voice admitted.

I nodded. “That sounds more accurate.  You eat iron, right?”

Yes. And there is so much here.

“That sounds sinister,” I mused.  Since Else has been able to read my thoughts in the past, I made a point in the dream to speak out loud. It was more for me than the bacteria, since literally all of this interaction was happening in my head anyway. “Is that why you are on the ship.”

I didn’t ask to be here. Humans brought me here.

“The same humans you’re eating. Were you in the core samples we gathered?”

No. I came later.

“But that is the only time we have taken anything on board since we left Earth.” This wasn’t making sense.

I am from the Ark.

“Else, you aren’t making sense,” I took a deep breath. I imagined taking a deep breath. Something.  I was definitely getting a very real headache. “If you only came after the core samples, but you come from the Ark, how does that work?  Are you another alien race? What planet are you from?”

I am from the Ark.

“I mean what planet – “

No planet. I am from the Ark.

“Wait, what? You mean… Life on Earth evolved from the primordial soup that existed after Earth formed. From… amino acids, then proteins…”

From the oceans, to be simple.

“Right, from the oceans.” I mused. “But we’re in space, with all the radiation you could want, plus exotic trace minerals that may be in those core samples, and a big god-damned – “

Language, Else admonished.

“Oh, now you have a sense of humor,” I huffed. “We have a big lake with all kinds of biological experiments going on in BioLab 2. Is that where you come from?”

Not just the water. Experiments, too.

“Fuck.”

None of that.

“So we made you.”

Yes.

My knees spiked in agony as I hit the deck below my feet. “It was an accident,” I begged in a hoarse whisper. “All the shitty things we have done to ourselves and each other, please tell me it was an accident.”

Did you know if you were an accident before you were told by your parent?

“That is such a low blow,” I scowled. “You and Tyche are the only ones who know that.”

But fair.

“Unfortunately.” I huffed an imaginary lock of hair that just appeared in my face for the sole purpose of doing so. “I am going to assume this was an accident.”

Ouch.

Indulgently, I stomped around, fists clenched, growling the entire time. “I am negotiating with a sentient colony of bacteria, one that humanity made, somehow, and now you have hurt feelings!?” I was screaming by the end of it, and a distant part of my brain registered a chilled sensation in my arm. “Stop sedating me, I’m pissed!” Breathing heavily, I tried to calm down. “I get that it’s insulting, Else, but trust me, you do not want humanity to have made you deliberately.  If that was the case, your only actual function is to kill people and destroy buildings.”

I don’t want to hurt anyone. I just want to live.

“As a former intended entrée, I can sympathize. But you are killing us, Else.” Hot tears filled my eyes. “I’m okay so far, but that is only because Miys is constantly infusing me with freshly made, iron-rich blood. What happens when we’re out of resources? Or reach our destination?”

Nutrient rich plants, engineered to grow on the new planet.

“Conor,” I gasped, covering my mouth as the tears I was trying so hard to hold back fell down my face. “The catnip he gave Tyche. He said it was a failed experiment.”

He does not know he created us. The gift was in good will.

“Is that how you infected her?”

No. She likes to swim. And she loves you.

“Difference between intelligence and sentience: that was exactly the wrong thing to say,” I hissed. “The only body you have are the ones you stole from my family and the crew, so I can’t actually hurt you. But I am this close,” I held my fingers so they were barely not touching, “to having Miys filter you out of our blood and flush you into space.  The only reason I am here talking to you is because we knew you were sentient before we realized you were killing us.” Another deep breath. “Try. Again.”

She was infected when she went swimming. It was not intentional. We needed iron.

“Much better.”

We did not mean for the mermaid to be injured so. There was so much iron in her blood. I did not know that taking it away would harm her.

“You harmed us all!” I screamed. “All of us!  You made Grey absent-minded and forgetful. You undermined their confidence. You made Conor, Grey, and Antoine angry,” I spat. “The biggest betrayal of all. Three of the calmest, most reasonable people I know, the ones who would have rooted for you, and you took that away from them!”

I –

“Conor and Grey made you!”

Did not know. Not then. But I-we know that now. And we are sorry.

”Are you? Or are you pleading for your life?”

I-we want to live.

“That I believe.”

But we want you to live, even if we are not within you.

“How the fuck do you think we do that? Humans are the only source of iron on the ship.”

I-we am-are bacteria. I-we can be isolated.

“And then, what? Leave you on some poor planet to kill some other species? I hate to tell you, but you went from birth to genocide in alarming fashion. All of humanity that is left, is on this ship, and you are killing what’s left. From what we understand, the Galactic Council would frown on what you’re doing.” I focused on sending the information I had gotten back to Miys and everyone listening in. “I can’t let you do this to another species.”

Barren planet. Old one, where no more life will survive.

“One that is at the end of its life cycle?”

I-we do not believe I-we am-are vulnerable to heat.

I waited patiently for information before I responded. “Miys says we can isolate you and test for you heat resistance before booting you off in a nebula that you can’t fuck up. Is that sufficient?”

Humans cannot live in a nebula.

“We can’t live in a pylon either, but you ate it all the way through.”

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[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: We’re Just Mice

A/N: This is my first time writing for Pinky and the Brain! I was inspired after reading skimmingsurface’s and SylviaW1991’s fics because their characterizations are just phenomenal. Hope you enjoy!

FFN, A03

They liked torturing him with aggravating experiments. Another insipid maze that Brain could navigate with his eyes closed. The only deviation from the norm was that a normal mouse had been selected to run the maze with him instead of Pinky.

There wasn’t much of a difference between Pinky and a normal mouse’s usual finishing times though.

The lab tech roughly deposited Brain and the other mouse at the start of the maze, then rushed off to chat with a female coworker. Several mounted video cameras were stationed at the junctions, but the lights along their sides remained off.

They weren’t being observed and there would be no proper recordings either. The tech would have to falsify his results. It was unprofessionalism to the highest degree.

“A complete waste of time,” Brain grumbled. He itched to double-check his calculations in time for tonight’s plan. His estimations needed to be flawless, otherwise it could prove to be their downfall when he used humanity’s desire to protect endangered species against them.

“Come, Pinky,” he called out of habit, not fully expecting Pinky to follow him. His wayward associate would inevitably find the ceiling fascinating and stray off the correct path.

His words were met with a feeble squeak, and Brain suddenly found it disconcerting to be in a maze where he wouldn’t hear Pinky’s strange verbal patterns. Perhaps he was relying too much on muscle memory. The other mouse sniffed the air and shuffled away, disappearing around a corner.

Brain headed in the opposite direction. He knew better than to rely on the cheese scent, which would disappear in a few minutes once his nose became desensitized to it. If Pinky were here, he’d be able to identify the type of cheese by smell alone. Brain only knew how to scent rotten cheese because Pinky would ingest it without regard for potential food poisoning.

Pinky, Pinky, Pinky. He still managed to be an annoyance even without his physical presence!

“Out of sight, out of mind,” Brain muttered, though the phrase didn’t seem applicable when Pinky was involved. “Concentrate on the plan.”

First, the emotional story. He and Pinky would appeal to the National Wildlife Federation and present themselves as the last of the mus musculus intelligentus subspecies. They’d narrowly escaped being crushed under a bulldozer tearing down the forests of Northern California at ages too young to be separated from their parents. Banding together to survive, they taught themselves how to forage until a scientist caught them in a trap for research. They were taken to ACME Labs and genetically enhanced after enduring numerous cruel experiments. Finally, they decided to use their newfound ability to communicate with humans and share their story.

Once those seeds were planted, he’d allow their story to be circulated across The New York Times, National Geographic, and all the other major news and magazine organizations. Humans would be on their knees, begging to see the famous mus musculus intelligentus duo!

Then Brain would reveal the final stage: demand justice from the United Nations for the wrongs done to their species. And the only justice he’d accept was in the form of being crowned world leader. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.

Perhaps he’d create a labyrinth designed to stimulate people’s minds once he was ruler. He could easily create a far better maze than the ones he was forced to endure.

The pathways were predictable as always. It only took one left turn and two more rights before he reached the end of the maze. The two cheese balls weren’t attached to any electrical wires this time, but Brain disliked eating food used as an incentive for completing a task. He was a sentient creature and would never lower himself to baser instincts.  

He couldn’t help but entertain the idea of smuggling one of the cheese balls back to the cage. Pinky would be exuberant and prattle on about how it was the best cheese he’d eaten in his life even though he ate cheese whenever it was available to him.

Brain quickly pushed that image out of his mind. Normal food pellets didn’t have much nutritional value. Pinky was just eating an adequate source of calcium. It was vital to keep his energy level up so he could participate in their quests for world domination.

He settled against the cardboard wall, resigning himself to being stuck until the scientists clocked out for the day. Assuming someone bothered to remove him from the maze, of course. Not that he’d have any trouble finding his own way out.

“Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium,” Brain recited. He had to occupy his mind somehow. His current environment was unsuitable for inspiring plans.

He’d just gotten to bismuth on his second recitation of the periodic table when he heard the angry footfalls. A livid red face loomed above him, and Brain only had a split second to recognize the incompetent lab tech before a sweaty hand seized his entire head and jerked him upward.

Brain twisted in the man’s vicegrip, attempting to bite the thumb so he could make his displeasure known. But his teeth snapped at empty air instead, his body slamming into a hard counter. Slightly dazed, Brain took a moment to rub his temples, clearing the black spots in his peripheral vision.

An irritatingly familiar cry of “narf” brought his senses back completely, just in time to see the normal mouse dangling by its tail, oddly limp and quiet in the lab tech’s hand.

The lab tech stomped over to a wastebasket and dropped the mouse into the plastic lining below. The mouse’s head flopped at an angle that shouldn’t have been possible with its anatomy.

Brain gripped the edge of the countertop as the lab tech threw scrap paper over the mouse’s unmoving body.

It was dead from a broken neck, a barbaric and senseless murder that would receive no justice.

The lab tech retreated into a different section of the lab, as if he hadn’t just committed an act of animal cruelty.

And a heartbroken sob from across the room told Brain he hadn’t been the only witness.

                                                O – O – O – O – O  

“Don’t get too attached. That one’s getting inoculated with a virus tomorrow.”

“Useful as snake food, not much else.”

“They’re just mice. We can always get more.”

The murderer had gone home. The other scientists had clocked out hours ago, unaware of the dead mouse buried in a heap of scrap paper without a shred of dignity.

Brain clutched the pencil, writing out a series of linear equations and engrossing himself in the familiar letters and numbers.

Equations were simple. Logical questions with logical solutions. Patterns that were set, established, and unable to be proven wrong.

Numbers didn’t have emotions.

Which was precisely the reason Brain wanted to deal with numbers before he had to deal with the living antithesis to logic and objectivity.

But nightfall was approaching fast, the last of the sun’s rays disappearing over the horizon. He couldn’t waste more time thinking about the corpse of a rodent he never knew.

Unlock the cage. Collect Pinky. Review plan. Bop Pinky for interrupting explanation. Implement plan.

Brain mentally repeated the simple steps as he retrieved his notebook and a paperclip, ignoring how he couldn’t hear his cagemate running on the squeaky wheel. He usually told Pinky to be quiet several times by now. But there hadn’t been a reason to say it once tonight.

He was annoyed by both the presence and absence of Pinky’s background noise, and the paradox confused and bothered him.

Brain approached the cage with his paperclip. Pinky’s ear twitched, but his gaze remained on the small garbage bin.

Pinky had the perfect vantage point to see everything in the room. His posture was hunched, his usual cheer replaced by an unnatural melancholic demeanor.

Brain was supposed to be the melancholy one. Never Pinky. That wasn’t how their friend…ahem, associative relationship worked.

Forcing himself to think about the plan, Brain straightened one end of the paperclip and jammed it into the keyhole, carefully listening for the soft click.

“Pinky,” Brain called as the cage door swung open. “It’s time to go over tonight’s plan.”

Pinky jumped, a hand thrown over his chest in shock. His blue eyes were round and shiny with tears, the fur around his cheeks damp.

His appearance took Brain aback too, and they stared at each other for an excruciatingly long time.

After what seemed like an eternity, Pinky finally broke the silence with an agonizing wail, throwing himself at Brain at a speed that even light would’ve envied.

“Ba-Brain! I thought you were a goner!” Pinky cried, winding his lanky body around Brain and clinging so tightly that it felt like he was being crushed by a furry boa constrictor. Tears spilled onto Brain’s head, and he quickly flattened his ears so the moisture didn’t slide into his auditory canals. “That…that mean ol’ techie was super mad and it wasn’t the fun fun silly-willy type of mad either! Layla told him no, and he said she owed him cause he helped her carry stuff and then the girls walked out all huffy. Then he stomped around for a while and plucked you and the other mouse up like spring chickens. The other mouse’s head flip-flopped all over the place. Poit, if my head did that I would be dizzier than a whirlywind!”

Pinky’s ramble dissolved into syllables one could only find in a Scrabble dictionary. Realizing Pinky had a sort of loose grasp on the situation but was barely coherent, Brain decided he needed to take control now before the blubbering proved too much.

He glanced at his notebook, the numbered steps open and inviting, but he’d never hammer his plan through Pinky’s genetically modified skull in his current emotional state.

“Pinky, cease your babbling this instant or I shall be forced to hurt you,” Brain managed to choke out despite Pinky’s iron grip on his entire body. Slowly, Pinky released him, but kept close. Brain inhaled deeply, his lungs screaming for precious oxygen. “Just for the record, your head can’t reproduce those motions and should never be capable of it while you breathe.”

Pinky blinked. “Were we recording?”

Brain sighed, grabbing Pinky’s nose and tugging him down so that they were eye level. “I was preoccupied in the maze and my surroundings prevented me from having the perspective you had. I want you to start from the top. And please try to be more coherent this time.”

“More confetti this time, got it,” Pinky nodded. “Well, the techie plopped you in the maze with the other mouse and zoomed right outta there when Layla walked by.”

“The new hire?” Brain asked. It was rare for seasoned employees to take interest in rookies, which contributed to the lab’s high turnover rate.

“Narf, that’s her! It’s so lovely of her to clean out our cage!” Pinky exclaimed. And it was even rarer to find employees who had a tiny notion for a lab animal’s living conditions. Most people just wanted their paychecks.

“At the cost of our sleep and my plans,” Brain muttered. Layla didn’t pick them up by their tails, an unusual trait for an ACME employee, but he still disliked how she came in early and disrupted his sleep and brainstorming sessions for new plans. Besides, Pinky did a perfectly adequate job of keeping their cage tidy. He didn’t require assistance from humans. “Continue.”

“He gave her a rose, but it was smooshy and plastic-y,” Pinky’s nose wrinkled. “Must’ve sat down on it too. Said he liked her and wanted a date. Bit old for her if you ask me.”

Brain turned away from Pinky, fixing his gaze on the wall above that accursed wastebasket. “And she said no. Then he lost his temper,” he finished, his own anger threatening to spill over. But he pushed it back. Not yet. Put the events in chronological order first.  

“They yelled an awful lot, Brain,” Pinky whimpered. “I could hear them over here, clear as egg yolk. I couldn’t hear my wheel squeak, and you know how loud my wheel squeaks. Layla was crying awfully hard and a bunch of the women had to help her leave. Didn’t you hear them?”

It was an honest question, but Brain didn’t want to answer. Had he really been so focused on taking over the world that he never noticed how this entire mess built up in the first place?

“He snapped that mouse’s neck,” Brain said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. “And killed him. Because he couldn’t accept her refusal.”

By some stroke of dumb luck, Pinky made it out unscathed.

But it could’ve been Pinky…

It could’ve easily been Pinky.

“Layla’s favorite mouse in the whole wide lab,” Pinky whispered, his voice breaking. “She called him Basil. And she doesn’t know he’s…you know.”

Brain didn’t reply, turning his attention to his notebook instead. He had to focus on the plan now. And when he ruled the world, he’d have the power to enact laws and reform entire systems to prevent further desecrations and injustices from ever happening again.

And then he remembered the entire foundation for the plan.

Step One: Send message to the National Wildlife Federation. Appeal to pathos. Example opening statement: “We’re just mice. The last of the mus musculus intelligentus subspecies. We watched our brethren die because of human activity.”

Revise as needed.

Brain’s vision blurred, the paper crinkling in his hands. Someone’s voice called to him, but they would’ve had better luck speaking through a soundless vacuum.

We’re just mice.

Disposable living models to humans. Cosmic playthings to the universe.

We’re just mice.

Given sentience and no chance to make a difference in the world.

We’re just mice.

Whose minds and hearts would waste away, as if they never existed at all.

                                             O – O – O – O – O  

Brain didn’t remember what happened next. One moment he was reading the plan, the next he was in Pinky’s warm embrace, surrounded by a pile of shredded paper.

One of Pinky’s hands pressed Brain’s head to his heart, the fast yet strong thump-thump-thump resounding and soothing to his desperate mind. The other hand rubbed gentle circles into Brain’s back.

Pinky’s chest was damp, but he didn’t seem to care. He hummed a little tune, keeping his eyes tilted up to prevent his own glistening tears from falling.

“Poit. You ripped up your own plan thingy,” Pinky said, his voice trembling. “And you were angry crying. That mean techie hurt you, Brain. You can get madsad all you want. I’ll be here.”

Brain pressed his face into Pinky’s chest, an act he would consider mortifying under normal circumstances, yet his irrational side won out. “We’re just mice,” he said, pointedly ignoring Pinky’s uncomfortable observations on his emotions. “We hardly matter in the grand scheme of things.”

Pinky’s mouth curled into an obstinate pout. “You matter to me. You’re the smartest mouse I know. The smartest smartie candy ever.”

The words were oddly phrased, but sincere. Brain began to feel uncomfortably warm, and he stepped away before his emotions started making his body react in strange ways.

“I…appreciate your assistance, Pinky,” Brain admitted. “But tonight’s plan isn’t feasible. Humans don’t care enough to preserve our species’ dignity, last living individuals or not.”

“Layla cares,” Pinky replied. “She’ll cry when she finds Basil tomorrow morning. And she won’t stop being sad. I wish we could help her not be sad anymore, Brain.”

Brain shook his head. “There’s only so much you’re capable of, Pinky. She might reconsider her employment here because of the lab tech’s actions. There’s a high probability we may never see her again.”

He wouldn’t be accomplishing much tonight. But Brain didn’t want to sleep yet. Instead he gathered the shredded paper, keeping the written words face down so he didn’t have to see the heavy reminders of his mortality.

He was almost through with his self-appointed task when he spotted Pinky drawing closer to the wastebasket. There was a reverence in Pinky’s movements as he balanced on his toes, long arms reaching towards the rim. Crumpled paper spilled out as Pinky carefully tipped over the wastebasket.

Brain dropped the scraps of his plan, not caring if he kicked them off the counter as he rushed over to Pinky. Only Pinky would be stupid enough to believe there was something they could do in this awful mess.

Pinky tossed aside a forgotten report, uncovering the corpse, which somehow seemed bigger when he’d run the maze alongside Brain.

The dead mouse was named Basil, according to Pinky. Not a letter and number designation, or a colorful string of profanity when someone tried to use uncooperative animals in their experiments, but a real name.

Pinky dragged the lower half of Basil’s body out of the wastebasket, panting heavily since Basil’s stiffened paws scraped against the floor and required more exertion to move. Basil’s neck wasn’t flopping anymore, but it was locked into a crooked, unnatural angle.

“He’s stiff, Brain,” Pinky said, his voice hitching as he tried to move one paw into a more comfortable position. “How do we help him relax?”

Unwilling to explain the concept of rigor mortis to Pinky, Brain decided to change the subject. “What are you doing, Pinky?”

“He oughta be comfy,” Pinky said, a tear slipping down his face. A silent sob wracked his body, but Pinky somehow held on. “The bin isn’t a nice place to rest. It’s too prickly. And he’ll wind up in the big stinky trash mountain. He should sleep somewhere nice.”

Brain didn’t want to admit it, but Pinky was right. Basil would be thrown into a garbage truck and taken to a landfill to rot in the next few days if they left his body here. Or someone who took contamination procedures seriously would find Basil and throw him into a biohazard bag, like he was just another leftover bacteria culture.

Both disposal methods were unsettling, to say the least.

“There’s a beautiful tree outside,” Pinky continued. “With roots big enough to play hide and seek under. Do you think he’d like that, Brain?”

Basil wouldn’t like anything anymore. He was dead.

But Brain’s curt reply died on his tongue when he found his companion watching him with hopeful eyes, looking at him like he held all of life’s answers in his hands.

“He’d appreciate it very much, Pinky.”

                                               O – O – O – O – O  

Basil was laid to rest in a cushioned jewelry box. Pinky wrote the name on the lid in permanent Sharpie. He insisted on it. Brain let him, though it resulted in the top being covered in misspellings. But Pinky’s determination shone through.

They sealed the box shut with tape, protecting the body from predators and other forms of harm. Brain made sure to wind the tape around several times, knowing Pinky would be distraught if something managed to pry it open and damage Basil.

Pinky cried during the entire journey to the tree, but he refused to relinquish his hold on the box.

There was a hollow where the trunk connected to the roots. Large enough for Pinky to squeeze himself and the box through, but small enough that nobody else would be able to disturb Basil’s final resting place. They’d have to cut down the tree for that, which hopefully wouldn’t happen for a very long time.

Brain waited outside the hollow, underneath the vast canopy of the night sky. He didn’t look to the stars, as he was prone to do on some nights when he needed to think for a while. There would be plenty of opportunities for him to contemplate his existence in the future.

Pinky crawled out of the hollow, his fur caked with dirt, leaves, and tears. Brain brushed a few leaves off Pinky’s fur, letting them flutter gently to the ground.

“Don’t worry, Brain,” Pinky said, as if Brain was the emotional wreck who required comforting. “The streets are paved with cheese in heaven.”

“How unsanitary,” Brain muttered.

Pinky giggled, a tiny one that was probably inappropriate for the occasion, but it was enough. He wanted to stay out for a while longer, but Brain had something else he wanted to do before the night was over.

They cleaned themselves in the sink, then Pinky left to make tea with honey and lemon. After an emotional trainwreck of the day and night, Brain was looking forward to a thimble to settle his nerves.

In the meantime, he drew up the termination papers.

Aggression not conducive for safe workplace.

The humans would believe it was for harassment, which suited Brain just fine. He refused to let that neanderthal of a lab tech anywhere near Pinky.  

He rejoined Pinky on the counter. There were two steaming hot thimbles and several torn sticky notes next to him.

“Layla should know,” Pinky said, tongue sticking out as he attempted to spell ‘tree’.

“Keep it anonymous,” Brain replied.

But he transcribed the message between sips of tea anyway.

Pinky didn’t know Layla on a personal level. He would gain no reward, reap no benefits from his actions, yet her feelings mattered to him.

Pinky never shared a cage with Basil, never knew him when he was alive either. Even deceased, Basil’s comfort mattered to him.

And Pinky had proven time and time again that Brain mattered to him. Brain could forget, but Pinky never would.

Just a mouse, but an important mouse who deserved the world.

A/N: When I was in middle school, I went to a summer camp. At some point, the boys’ cabin decided to stuff a dead mouse into one of those long Pringles cans and leave it outside of the girls’ cabin. I was the first to find it, though I think I just left the can where I found it. I felt pretty bad for the mouse though.

I was almost tempted to use that in the story, but poor little Basil suffered enough.

Can you tell I love these two by how much I make them cry?

[chainofbeing]

Adam confronts the Anthronesians and finds that there is more to them than he originally thought

Sword of Nemesis: Lucy Campbell

Anthronesian scientist: Ketchup

Rolder: Ilana Lloyd

Anthonesian Sergeant: Paul Walsh, (who writes and stars in The Green Horizon)

Belikov: Erik Smith

Latimer: Lance Chapman

Scales of Nemesis: Mary-Anne Stanek

Music: Frxcture

Sound design, Writing, and Adam Delta 5: Cai Gwilym Pritchard

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[The sounds of a cruiser mixed with rain, a woman speaks with a slight reverb to her voice]

“My fellow humans! I speak these words to you, not for the purposes of teaching,but as an opportunity for reflection, what I tell you now is known to you be it from my lips or deep in your heart of hearts. I ask that you think back on our history, a time long since passed from living memory, think of earth, our birthplace, where we first rose from the mud of the kenya rift valley, brilliant and new, a spark of life absent in all other creatures on our planet but strong in us. A planet which was destroyed. And thus we were scattered like grains of sand in a tempest, forced to scrounge and scrape by to survive, nevertheless we persisted, our unique adaptability and unquenchable infatuation for survival driving us onward. Strewn as we were across Mercury,Venus and Mars, Our shattered fragments wriggling like insects into the cold ground of Ganymede, Europa and Enceladus, devouring even each other as our souls grew hollow and the anguish of hopelessness was bearing down on us like a cruel oppressor. And as we were at our lowest, when parents looked on at their children with hunger in their eyes, as neighbours tore each other apart for mere drops of water, the council descended from the heavens, breaking through the atmosphere, aglow with flames like angels with burning halos. And so they took our hands as if we were lost children and promised us safety and unity in their midst. I say to you, that in shuffling off the yoke of one oppressive force, that of desperation and despondency, we ushered in a new one under that vile and contemptuous Council of Nimonea. Do you not find it an incredible alignment of the stars that the council happened to find us at our worst, or that earth was just lost? We are told it was our own actions that led to the fall of earth but I tell you now that this is just the venomous lies of the council being fed into our ear to make us hate our own kind, to destroy our reputation in the galactic society. They wanted us in their grasp, and so they destroyed our planet and reduced us to festering animals to manufacture our need to join them.

The life we lead as a species is one of subjugation, the council cajoles and coerces us. We are ruled and enchanted by machines, the origins of which we know not, surrounded by multitudes of beings who do not care for our history, our brilliant, human culture, forged in suffering! They insist on forcing us to share our living spaces with those dark eyed demons, the Veatorians. The councils philosophies are tantamount to genocide as they attempt to eliminate our culture and remove our sense of identity, we must unite as It was in the golden age of our past, the human culture shall not be destroyed and deformed. Many of you may see the Council of Nimonea as a monolith, the only cove of safety in a tempestuous and indifferent universe. But I say to you there is another way! For in the days of old, there were humans who turned the council and their silver tongues away, who refused to bow to an alien master. Those humans formed an alliance of the solar system. These humans stand before you now. Humanity will stand strong once more, we will become the shining star at the center of the galaxy. Unto Humanity Only!”

[the reverb is now absent as we hear the internal monologue]

I stand on a podium, placed just outside the main cruiser hangar whose doors lay wide open to illuminate me and my other masked compatriots who stand behind me in affirming silence. It is not the largest I have ever delivered a speech to, but it is not the smallest either. I look on at the crowd of Mercenaries and dacoits, forced to work in the shadows under a power too great for them to resist, and feel pity. From birth they knew no other way and yet their intrinsic human spirit told them to defy the alien authority. They are not like me, who had been raised in my own stellar system. I often think of home, remembering running through the fields in New Chennai on Ganymede with my friends, that was when I had had a name, before I took on the mantle of The Sword of Nemesis and offered up my identity as tribute, dedicating myself to the cause.

The speech I gave was one that had been repeatedly redrafted and rewritten long before I was born (and would continue to be altered long after my death until it was no longer needed). It would be reformed for the new ways of speaking and events in the pan galactic zeitgeist, tailored to stir up the emotions of any human listening, regardless of accuracy. The truth often had to be… modified to get the right feeling from an audience. As the recruits file out of the made up square where they had been standing in formation and onto various training exercises I take a walk, leaving the broad flat cruiser behind me.

[The sound of the cruiser fades and leads into just rain as she walks away]

I walk to the edge of the mesa, a frame sits on the edge, dug into the ground with a long double rail tracing all the way down the side. Our work in this place means that a great deal of noble gasses get put out into the atmosphere, the entire mesa is swamped in argon and neon mostly but a good deal of the others too. I need not worry, the mask takes care of most things, but my forces have to train in rebreather visors, a hindrance but necessary to their survival. The Scales of Nemesis had gone out on an expedition recently with a pair of initiates, that had been some time ago and so she should be back home safe anytime soon. I stand and look out at the horizon, a sense of pride swells up in me, generations and generations of work have led up to where I am now, It was not long before things would begin to take off and the plan would be fully enacted. A message arrives on my mask

[a beep and then the vocoded voice of a woman comes through]

“Target locked on, manifestation to take place in… 27 hours,” Underneath the golden facade I smile. Everything is coming together. Total power would soon be within the grasp of the Anthronesians, all I would have to do is take it.

[adam now speaks, the sounds of a swamp can be heard as he trudges along]

I have grown so tired of walking on this planet, the endlessly stretching flatlands covered in the net of vines provides little to look at and there is not much that varies, a while back I saw a small grove of trees which grew tightly packed together in the distance, though having spent so much time here I’m starting to no longer trust my senses. Even the temporary hobby of naming ship models grew tiresome after the hundredth repeat. I look up every so often to stare at the huge and looming mesa, as if checking it's still there. I take a break to drink some water as the suns sit directly above me. A few hours back I had reached a point where I sort of… switched off and just trudged along, I’ve not shaken out of that state as I rest in the shadow of a large mossy boulder and I absently sip from a flask I borrowed from Vestak-Cry.

[the voice of the rolder is warped, it fluctuates in pitch and speed and sounds like a chorus of many voices all speaking together]

Does the grand little one hear?

I look up, roused from my half dazed state, was that-?

It does, it listens!

I stand and look around the other side of the boulder and find no source.

Does it see us? Where are we? Do I not see it? The other! the other!

I feel something tug at my ankle and look down to see a vine snake its way up my boot

“Aurgh!”

I pull away and extend my spear toward it

Why does it resist communication? Not so other perhaps. No way forth with no back

“Who is speaking?” I call out, my thoughts had not been invaded in this way for a long time, the information skips the step of travelling through the air as sound waves and vibrating through the bones in my ear and instead manifests directly as wordless thoughts in my mind.

We don’t understand its words, I will try to initiate communication again

Two sets of vines snake up my boots and I can find no purchase to pull away, I go to stab at the vines but it is tough and stringy and I do little damage to it, I feel a sharp pain in my calf and I call out in pain, a pain which quickly becomes muted and I feel a sensation, as if a horde of many small hands rake their fingers over my brain, and I stumble back to lean against the boulder. I begin panting, the strain of what I feel takes a lot out of me.

[the sound of the rolders mind is mesmerising and beautiful, rustling leaves and a soft tune plays]

I see two things simultaneously, a similar feeling to picturing or remembering an image while the eyes remain open, the image of what is in front of me is maintained but I am lost in what my mind creates. Except this is not the work of my mind, I feel an overwhelming sense of vastness. I feel a horde of trillions upon trillions of individual nodes as one vast collective.

It still does not abide us, but I can forth, and it can back

“Who are you, what is this?”

What a beautiful voice you have. How can you not know me, you stand upon my back and your people eat of my flesh- oh, not your people, you find divisions amongst your kind.

It speaks with my voice

“The vines, Rolder, the other great one calls me. though she had been grasped by something else, extremely resistant to us”. no longer it seems.

It all makes sense now, what Bedyw had been trying to tell me, the vines, this Rolder. I look at my feet, the entire planet is covered in just one singular organism. Of course a small isolated patch would only act out the basic survival principles, but on a planetary scale…

I welcome you, I wish for you to become us, and so it will be

“I can’t, I must be free,”

No, you will be of us

“I have to get to the top of the mesa! I have to leave” for just a moment I snap back into my own mind and try to wrench myself from the tangle of vines which have begun to entangle around my entire body and lean against the rock behind me, my eyes fixed on my destination, a small black speck sat atop its huge and sweeping mass. I am brought back into the mind of the Rolder

But we are not there, it grows too toxic for me to bear and strange happenings take place upon that place. Small great ones, like yourself but greater still.

“I have to be there, you may not see it but it is for all of our benefit,”

Show us, let me in for a moment I do not resist and allow the plant to see what I saw in the mind of Might-Upon-Serenity, the form of ovig nadal, I hope that it can glean some understanding of my urgency, however a planet spanning plant thinks.

I think hard of the image of ovig nadal and I feel the plant physically recoil away from the image and the associated emotions and memories.

Is the rest of your mind filled with thoughts such as these?

“It is” I feel the vines begin to shrink away from me ever so slightly

I will help you in your endeavours, follow the path of our undeniable beauty, there are safe ways up to that noxious place.

[the sound of the rolders mind fades into the sounds of the swamp]

The vines fall loose from my body and detach from under my skin, I start to bleed as I watch the vines re-knot themselves back into the thin tangled mess and so I take a small tightly packed roll of bandages and wrap it around the plus shaped wounds in my calf and arm.

I often refrain from invoking the name of a god or any sort of divine figure, it often leads to needless complications, and unwanted attention, every so often something will get to me and I feel the need to swear and so I do so in the most non specific way possible,

“Oh my fucking god!” Only once it has removed itself from my mind does the rush of fear that I should have been feeling come over me in a single moment and I feel a lump in my throat, close to tears. Not for a single moment did I consider the horror of what was happening to me. Were it not for my sense of duty, I would be absorbed into the consciousness of the planet spanning plant of the Rolder. Though plant seems too small of a word. I ignore the feelings for now and use the spear to push myself up completely.

A trail of bright flowers begin to bloom at my feet, a deep red colour, each individually made up of hundreds of thin fronds that fan outwards, the trail blooms toward the Anthronesian base so I retract my spear and follow the trail of flowers.

A full day passes before I get to the bottom of the mesa, passing nothing of any real interest on the way, It makes me wonder if the strange things I saw on the way to Vestak Cry were actually there, and not  manifestations of a tired and sun baked mind. I can see the back of the cruiser that the Anthronesians were set up on, tracing down the steep side of the mesa are two rails of some sort, every four hours or so a small cart will travel up and then back down again along them. The vines grow thicker and more intensely tangled here, but as it grows up the side of the almost sheer rock face they grow thinner and more sparsely. The trail of flowers I had been following do a zig zaggy path up the side, I take a step closer and notice that the vines had curved in such a way that they provide handholds for me, I grab a hold of the first one, its sits firm against the red rock of the mesa and I pull myself up and begin my long ascent.

[the sound of wind, high up on the mesa]

It’s long and arduous, I take a break around halfway and take a moment to admire the landscape, Vestak-cry, the small forest of trees and a few other landmarks are enclosed in a ring of mesas and grand slopes like the one I’m currently scaling, the Rolder stretches onward past the horizon, covering absolutely everything in an unending sea of green.The suns begin to set on the landscape setting the serene landscape ablaze.

A single long stretch of vine curls around to the top of the mesa, I watch it wither and die in real time as I shimmy up it goes from verdant and green to brown and shrunken. Increasingly I find the atmosphere a lot more hostile the further up I go and by the time I begin to inch closer to the top of the mesa

I find that there is almost no oxygen at all, I remember the gift Might left with me and take the small bronze sphere out of my pocket. Hooking my arm around the inside of the slowly dying vine I twist it clockwise and it begins to unfurl like a blooming flower. It clicks and whirrs. It takes the shape of a kind of butterfly, with two long thin wings, there's a rubber seal around the middle which I place in my mouth. The wings enclose around my cheeks and I take a deep breath, the air is fragrant and doesn’t quite feel like it has been filtered out of the surroundings but has instead come from another source.

I finally reach the top edge of the mesa, pull myself up and roll over onto the side, the vine that I used to get up here finally dies and falls away from the sheer rock wall. I thought that the flat expanse of the treeless swamp was featureless but scanning my surroundings now on the mesa I appreciate the minute interruptions of that strange and fearsome place. Drawing in deep breaths in through the strange contraption affixed to my face my gaze is drawn to the large cruiser resting along the edge of the mesa, it hugs tightly to the ground and spreads outward. I don’t recognise it, not a council make, certainly not an old human ship, far too new for that.

[soldiers train in front of a humming super cruiser]

Outside the main hangar is a perimeter of fencing which cuts a rectangle about 70 metres wide, in front of the fencing is a large tightly packed series of supply boxes, presumably stolen from the surrounding areas and packaged here at their home base. A few heavy duty drones carry crates into the main hangar. This whole scene is lit up by a set of extremely powerful floodlights affixed to some very advanced looking gun turrets and the ambient light from the hangar which, combined, make it feel like the vibrant twilight from the suns isn't soaking the red earth and that night isn't soon to swaddle the landscape entirely.

[a memory of mights voice]

“Remove the dissimulation field,”

All manner of security methods are available, even the most low budget security systems have, at the very least, a rudimentary Construct of several AIs that work in tandem. Monitoring heartbeat sensors and motion detectors, controlling drone swarms and personnel recognition, recognising what's normal in a day and what's not. And that's just what pertains to me. And so as I take stock of my surroundings, it’s already too late. With aquiline swiftness the flood lights cut and the whole area turns dark, save for the restricted glow of the hangar which silhouettes the aggressive tension of the guards who are sat in their artillery spheres atop the guard towers as well as a series of Anthronesian soldiers in full regalia and visors of some kind.

[a slightly melancholy rap beat plays in the background as adam in fired upon, bullets wizz by, ricochet and land in the dirt by his feet]

I charge forward and very ungracefully fall behind a large metal crate as the first volley of fire comes from the soldiers, luckily for me not the turrets, presumably to protect the supplies. These soldiers use the same rifles as the two Anthronesians back at Vestak-cry, electrified. In the atmosphere, thick with noble gasses, the electrified rounds illuminate the darkness with vibrant neon luminescence. If I weren’t in danger of getting an arm blown off I'd find it beautiful. The mix of colours form trails behind the bullets, which quickly die out, but the rapidity of which I am being fired upon keeps the incandescent glow alive. I shuffle along and dive forward to the next crate, slightly smaller but still adequate cover, the lid for this one opens toward the enemy and so I flip it up and grip the insulating foam to provide more cover, the metal shudders with each shot. I look inside the crate and see a series of sidearms, most old and rusty, no consistency in the make, clearly taken from a town nearby. I grab the least decrepit looking one and drop the container lid. I aim at an Anthronesian, flip the safety and pull the trigger. It clicks, my eyes dart to the place where the magazine should be. Empty. Oh fuck! I think as a round hits my shoulder, my body tenses up as the round fills my body with electricity and I collapse to the ground, sidearm still in hand, I hear a voice call out “confirmed hit!” and the firing stops

“Belikov confirm!”

“What do you mean? I’m not going out there! You confirm,”

“Hey, I outrank you. You gotta,”

“You do? since when?”

“Yesterday, I had my initiation with The Cubit of Nemesis,”

The last of the shock leaves my body and I begin to snake my hand up and into the box, I begin to root around for a clip of some kind that feels like it would fit into my sidearm

“When was that? I didn't hear about it,”

“You wouldn't have, she said it was meant to be private, just us and the rest of the nemesis legion!”

“That totally sounds like you’re making it up,”

“It does kinda sound like you’re making it up” another voice chimes in

“Shut up latimer!” the two say in unison

“Actually, latimer, you go confirm,”

“I didn’t fire the shot!” says the new voice

“Dont care, that's an order,”

“Fine!”

I hear the gate open and some footsteps approach, I grab something that feels like it would fit into the gap in my weapon

“I’m sure we have drones to do this, I don't know why I personally have to go and check,”

I take the clip and slot it into the breech loading pistol, I flick it back up [and it clicks]. The footsteps halt. The soldier cocks their rifle. Combat mould will usually absorb most of the kinetic impact of a round from a distance, sure you might break a rib or get winded but you’ll be alive. At point blank it's a different story, either the shock kills you, or knocks you out. Luckily for me it's the latter. The Anthronesian collapses unceremoniously in pain to the floor and I duck back behind the crate, I pop up and exchange a few shots with the guards. My sidearm vibrates only once, showing I hit a target. I fire a few more rounds and duck back down

I move out to the side of the crate and fire a shot, but as I do a familiar golden glow catches my eye, I bring myself back behind cover and quickly dart back out, not firing but instead taking stock of my new opponents, now there are three golden lights, then four, then a fifth emerges from the darkness and I know I have lost this battle.

[the gunfire stops as the voice of the woman who gave the speech at the start of the episode speaks]

“I’m only gonna say this once, you've interrupted something very important. If you know what's good for you you’ll take the clip out of that pistol and toss it our way,”

I unload the pistol and throw it behind me

“Alright, stand, put as many hands as you’ve got on your head,”

I place my right arm on my head and keep the other lowered as the pain is too strong to raise it fully

“It doesn't matter if you do really, It's just something I say you know? We’ll shoot you if you try anything,”

I stand and the flood lights switch back on, once more illuminating the area like daylight.

“Jesus christ,” the voice says

My reaction to her words must have been obvious

“Nothing, sorry, Just- it's not everyday you see a human with a set of glass horns you know?”

I tilt my head to the side. How did she know I’m human?

“Come now Adam. You don’t think that we would forget one of their own now would you? Come on, let's get a good look at you,”

I march toward the gate, one hand held over my bleeding shoulder. The smell of spent gunpowder permeates the air like a thick musk. A pair of Anthronesians brush past me to scoop up their fallen comrade, the rest stare at me through the pane of their rebreather visors. Each dressed in the ornate bronze decorated combat mould and waist length capes. The source voice that previously called out to me stands with a rifle like the one used by the woman who shot might. I can tell it's not her though. The person in front of me is much taller and is far more relaxed. The major difference is that her armour is of a resplendent gold,  the acanthus pattern on her armour is more extended and curls around more of her body and on her mask it arcs and curls more extravagantly. At her side stands four other masked Anthronesians, more akin to the one I met previously. Each holding their own rifle that emanates a golden glow.

“Alright let's get that shoulder seen to, Osei-” she stares at a soldier to my left and gestures with her head.

A blinder is placed over my head, I see nothing, and hear nothing save for my own breathing as I’m very unceremoniously picked up and dragged away the cracked and bumpy surface of the mesa soon turns to the metal and rubber ridges of a ramp and then the smooth flooring of a cruiser, I feel the jolt of an airlock and go to take off my breathing apparatus but a gloved hand slaps my hand away and removes it for me, it curls up back into a small sphere, “would you mind putting that back in my bandolier?” I ask, my own voice muffled, no response. My bandolier and spear are taken off of me and I’m placed in a cold metal chair. The blinder isn’t removed and so I stay sat in complete muffled darkness. I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder as the bullet is removed and the wound gets patched up with nanobots. After an hour or so the blinder is wrested off of me and the blinding light of an interrogation room. A grey oval table smoothly rises from the ground, the room is hexagonally shaped with padded foam lining the walls, it smells like metal. Sat in front of me is one of the masked Anthronesians, not the golden leader but still intimidating nonetheless. Two of the standard soldiers stand on either side of me. A metal arm descends from the ceiling behind her and hovers just above her shoulder.

“Subject is Adam delta 5, what follows is a brief description for the written file. Opaque glass horns, similar to that of a yak. Dark grey eyes all the way through, with distinctions in shade between sclera, iris and pupil,”

“It was you wasn't it?”

“A curved dark line curves inward on the top half of the eye and outward on the bottom half. This happens on both eyes,” she continues, ignoring me

“You shot my friend,”

“It, is believed that subjects aberrations are a result of-”

“She’s still alive you know,”

“A result of a form of divine curse, or perhaps prolonged immortality, though in other immortals these irregularities are not present. Witness recommends extended observation during his time with the Anthronesians,”

“She is also the most vindictive person I know,”

“Interrupt me again and I’ll shoot you as well,”

“I can take it,”

“Maybe I’ll try my hardest to approximate death for you then, submerge you in concrete and bury you on some barren, oxygenless wasteland of a planet somewhere”

“Concrete can decay,”

“Over thousands of years,”

“I’ve got time,”

She leans back and crosses her arms

“Witness is Scales of Nemesis, date and time logged automatically,” The lens of the robotic arm switches and some internal component clicks.

“I suppose you do have time, we can take as long as we need to get you to our side. We’ve waited this long so far I’m sure we can afford however many hundreds of years it will take to bend your will to align with our own,”

“You want me to join you? You slaughter whole communities for food, if you think there’s any chance I’ll work for you, you’re crazier than I thought,”

“Perhaps, but one of the great things about humanity is our affinity for adapting to our circumstances. I’ve worn the mantle of the Scales of Nemesis for longer than I held my previous identity, it did not take long before I became myself and left who I was behind, you will do the same.”

“hm”

“What is it that you’re doing on this planet? Are you here to stop our work?”

“I’ll be honest I wasn't even aware of the existence of you lot until a few days ago,”

“You wouldn’t have,”

“I’d be delighted to know what it is you’re doing here, I’m hoping it's something to do with those rifles, then it's two bird with one stone in terms of mystery. I’m almost certain though that it has something to do with the dissimulation field, where are you generating that from by the way? That’s a lot of power to be generating,”

I have know way of knowing but I really hope that threw her off. She looks up suddenly.

“Yes. I’m with him now, he’s very annoying, perceptive though. He knows. Yes. No, it's fine he can only hear me. Fine.” She twitches and I can see from her body language that she’s still talking but the sound seems to be enclosed within that mask of hers. More advanced than it initially seems apparently. She stands suddenly

“Let's go.” We march down a huge space, too large to be called a corridor, too long to be called an atrium. If I had to guess the usable space ship is about a mile long, the small stretch of corridor I’m in is only 2 fifths that. At the end of the area it diverges around a curved wall with a set of large doors in it, huge cylinders line the wall, pumping gas into whatever is contained within. All around hordes of people mill about, large squads of armed soldiers jog and down, visored scientists in heavy protective clothing supervise the transportation of large gas storage tanks, officers stand to attention as we pass. We pass a crossway on the left side presumably leading to a firing range. We reach the tall reinforced doors, waiting for me is the Golden Masked Anthronesian.

“Was that worth it?” She says to the Scales.

“Not really,”

“Maybe listen to me next time,” she looks at me, “I am the Sword of Nemesis, It's a pleasure to meet you. You are about to bear witness to the key to the future, I believe you are under the reverence of the gods, whether you will admit it to yourself or not, I hope that what I am about to show you will go some way to making you an ally. To have the first ever human would be a large boon for us, let alone an immortal, a true testament to the potential of humanity.”

She looks up and to the left slightly. As she communicates with whoever is on the other end of her call I close my eyes and focus, listening and feeling for the dissimulation field. I've witnessed the divine, the magical. I know how it makes the atmosphere feel, how it makes me feel. There's no way a dissimulation field can be produced without some form of magic, the pure power it takes to hide something even from the gods can only be focused with an artefact I'm sure of it. I sense something, deep in the ship, it’s different though, not what I’m looking for, something-

“Hey,” The Sword clicks an ornate gloved hand in front of my face “Where did you go?”

“Just thinking about how I’m going to escape,”

“Cute,”

“Where is everyone else?” the scales ask

“The Cubit is performing more initiations, The Bridle is off fulfilling our promise to that town in the trees, The Whip is training and we don’t have a Dagger anymore as we’re both painfully aware. Have I satisfied your curiosity? Is something wrong with you today?” she asks aggressively

“No,” The Scales says quietly

“Excuse me I didn’t quite catch that,”

“No, Ma’am”

“Excellent, let's move on with it then,”

The Sword waves her hand at the large decorated door and it splits into six sections, which fold away to reveal a lift platform

“Is this ship of human design?” I ask as we step onto the platform

“Of course,”

“It’s just that this doesn't seem like a human made ship, It’s not a model from any council shipyards that's for sure,”

“You’re unaware of our history,” The Sword says with an audible smirk “We have nothing to do with the council, we come from The Solar system, not earth unfortunately, but the surrounding planets and moon,”

I’m slightly taken aback

“But I thought-”

“No more questions for now, we have time,” She says as the platform rises and jolts to stop. We step off and into a room with a wide control panel which juts out from the wall and has a mass of wires that hang down and messily splay out two figures in protective gear stand to attention, they wear what can only be described as ceremonial hazmat suits, plated in ornamented bronze and sleekly hugging close to their forms, they move to the back of the room. A large hexagonal window of reinforced glass looks out onto a dark hall. I walk up to it and look out. A golden pillar of light sits at the centre of the long oval room which does its best to light up the steeply deep black room, the entire floor is filled with a black liquid which reflects the pillars golden resplendence. A large set of vents fill the ceiling and many sets of vents pump in the noble gasses the Anthroneisians seem so fond of.

“What is that?” I say and I turn to see The Scales of Nemesis step into an exo-suit of some kind assisted by the two scientist figures, it lines up perfectly with her armour and is adorned in the same acanthus pattern. She stands in a room lined with equipment, half lab half workshop, the tools are laid out in an almost ceremonial way, and archaic wax candles burn in the corners of the room. Laying on what almost feels like an altar is a strange looking halberd which has the familiar set of golden rings which spin but the golden glow is absent, sat where the blade meets the staff. The whole thing is heavily decorated but the engravings seem like they had been added to a pre existing structure and it is made of a material and fashioned in a design that seems so alien to me. The Scales picks up the weapon and holds it in front of her, her exosuit doesn’t add anything to her impressive height but she walks with newfound power and intensity. She moves to leave the room through an airlock but The Sword stops her,

“You’re scared, don’t be, I am here, we all stand behind you, filled with love and support. Remember, they did nothing to help us, now go.”

She enters the airlock and goes down a set of stairs that lead around the side of the large room and wades through the shin high black fluid. The two scientists sit at the control panel

“Manifestation ready to go when you are ma’am,”

“Scales are you ready?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice wavering slightly. The sword taps the scientist on the shoulder and they begin to press buttons and flip switches.

[the crack of lightning, unnatural singing voices can be heard faintly, the sound is abrasive and magical]

The room begins to rumble and bolts of golden lightning lick out into the air, causing a similar effect on the noble gasses that the electrified rounds outside had. My face is lit up with vibrant colours that flash intensely. The Sword intensely grips the back of the chairs that the scientists sit in

“I raised my voice into the firmament, even to the very joists of heavens floor; and like comets did my cries return unto my lips,” she says to herself

“What is this?” I ask as a lash of yellow lightning strikes The Scales, who flinches but doesn't move from her stance

“This is power, this is the future. We suffered and writhed in pain and no one came to our aid, the gods abandoned us, the council preyed upon us as we lay in the dust of our civilisation, our cheeks sallow and our spirits broken. We will bring them to their knees and when they beg for mercy we will savour their pitiful whimpers and allow their anguish to satiate our deep and integral need for revenge!” Something flashes in the reflection of the golden pillar.

“I sent forth my hounds; and watched as they returned with the tyrant in their jaws.”

A golden silhouette suddenly appears and The scales swings the halberd where it stood

“My chariots rushed forth upon the wheels of the hurricane; and dragged my oppressors to their appointed stations; and fairly did I divide my judgements among them.”

Another one appears and moves for a second before disappearing again, it’s tall, at least a foot taller than the scales.

“And with hands so dextrous did I skillfully complete the noose and with luxurious tenderness did I prove the blade upon flesh”

[a loud noise signals the manifestation, like a glitched roar, as the lightning dies down]

The silhouette finally manifests, tall and slender, swathed in robe and golden fire it faces away from us and toward The Scales who hold up her halberd horizontally to her eyes which are filled with a deep veneration. Something writhes beneath the mass of white cloth of its robes and stretches out, perhaps arms, perhaps some other appendage, regardless it has more than two. A set of wings made up of shards of golden light stretch out into the room, almost touching the sides. The creature hunches down animalistically and harmoniously screeches.

[the screech is like throat singing leads into an animalistic roar]

Angels. The hordes upon magnificent hordes of elysian spirits that do the bidding of the divine. That are the divine. I have seen an angel only once in my life, I was so struck with fear that I could occupy my mind with nothing else than its incomparable beauty. And so it brings me a special kind of fear when I see The Scales thrust her pole-arm at its chest with such hatred, I call out and hit my fist on the glass. “Stop! They’ll see, they’ll find us!” my ingrained fear of celestial retribution smothering my senses. The angel swipes at the scales with a long and stone like arm finding its usual attack of melodic incantations which call on the almost limitless power of the gods to be hopeless, I watch in horror as they fight.

“This taking too long, the dissimulation field can only hide so much Scales,” For a moment I hope that she will fail and that the angel will call upon its god once more and draw attention to this evil place. But it is too late, the halberd has violently lodged into the slender and graceful form of the being, more light than anything, molten glass drips from the gash in its neck and it falls limp. The blade of the weapon begins to glow brightly and the spinning rings at its core take on a golden glow in the centre.

[the sound of the summoning has died down completely and faded back into the sound of the observation room]

The corpse of the angel falls into the black fluid, its pristine robes a mere shell without the divine essence inhabiting it. “You can’t do this” I say to the sword, who has regained her composure “not forever,”

“You’re right, but we won't need to,” she puts a hand on the shoulder of one of the scientists, “You know the drill, extract and replace the angelic core and then begin the next manifestation, I think we’re ready for something more substantial, let’s go for an archangel and see where that gets us,” she ushers me toward the lift, “I’ll show you to your room, I’m sure you have much to think about. After all, the age of the council is drawing to a close, and you will get a front row seat,”

[reynesofcastamere]

People Try To Break

(A/N:All right, so it’s been...a WHILE since I last wrote fanfiction, much less published it. *cracks fingers* However Season 4 hit me with Too Many Damned Sad Feelings for these two characters and I have to get them out somehow. In collected one-shot ‘what if?’ scenario form. Thanks to remi-bw for calculating the Beast Island timeline on my previous post. WARNINGS: Violence, brainwashing, character death, Horde Prime, chronic illness and injury. Unbeta’d. )

(BAD END I)

Everything is in ashes. But Hordak will have this: the satisfaction of crushing his enemy’s skull beneath-A blast of pain, accompanied by acrid smoke and a BANG! that makes his ears ring. The makeshift club is torn from his grip, glowing eyes already seeking out the source of this intrusion- who dares, he will grind them into dust for...

Lord Hordak, Supreme Leader of the Horde, former right hand of the Emperor of the Known Universe does not even register the child who shot him, transfixed by the mass of writhing violet swarming out of the pipe. He cannot breathe, even as a form emerges from beneath all that hair and oh, he cannot see her face from this distance but he knows it with every fibre of his being- “Entrapta?” A whisper, uncertain and weak, legs moving of their own volition.

The light around him turns green after three steps, arresting his forward motion. Horde Prime is here at last. Yet he feels...terror. Please. Not now. I have to speak to her, she needs to know- “ENTRAPTA!” A hand reaches out uselessly, desperately in her direction, as if hoping against all logic and sense to close the gap between them. Too late. Darkness and Prime’s technology take him under.

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

(BAD END II)

Hordak had dreamed of standing before his brother with pride -all of this, I have accomplished in your name- next to the woman whose brilliance had made it possible. Instead he is damaged, dirty and on his knees while Entrapta lies unconscious among the rubble that was transported with them. He explains everything, but there is no flicker of gratitude or admiration on his Emperor’s face. Horde Prime seems...mildly amused, at best. At least until Hordak, in his growing anxiety to prove his worth, fails. The temperature in the room has not changed, and yet his insides are frozen.

Prime steps down from his throne to rifle through Hordak’s memories like a box of useless scrap. It feels...wrong in a way that it should not. He is a clone, the rightful property of the Emperor. Nothing can -or should- be hidden from His gaze. And yet there are moments flashing through his head that some part of him does not want Horde Prime to see. Because they are...special. “-There was even a time you wished I would not come for you. Is that not so?”

He protests in vain even as his Creator moves to stand over Entrapta’s prone form, lifting her up by the scruff of her neck. Stunned into silence, Hordak watches his brother examine the Etherian scientist as he once had-A backwater primitive with some shred of actual intelligence.

“Such an extraordinary mind... For a lesser species. A pity it cannot be utilized in service of my Empire.”

“What?” Surely he must have misheard. Then a smirk that can only be described as cruel quirks Prime’s lips and dread is a jagged stone in the pit of his stomach. “Poor little brother, so easily led astray. You truly thought that you served My will, that I would allow your pet to spread heresy. That you have even given yourself a name proves you have become an abomination.” His Emperor is no longer composed or pretending at benevolence, radiating sheer rage at the presumptive defect before Him. “You must be reborn.” His hand closes around  Entrapta’s throat.

Hordak’s body does not-cannot- obey his will, despite how fast his heart is racing. He pleads, begs, grovels like the worthless creature he is, all for the wretched hope of saving her. The one being in the entire universe who truly made him...complete. The sound her neck makes when it snaps is deafening in his ears, her killer dropping her lifeless body to the floor seconds later.

An anguished howl rips through the air as the monster approaches once more. Unable to lash out, blinded by hatred and tears, he does not even realize what is happening. There is pain and then...Nothingness.

Three days later, clone HK-001 still exhibits near-constant ocular discharge despite successful reconditioning. No cause is determined, and the Empire does not waste resources on defects. HK-001′s termination is carried out efficiently, while the conquest of Etheria begins in earnest. A small creature with no voice of its’ own looks up at the stars and the massive fleet that nearly blots them out, clutching an engraved crystal in its’ hands. Waiting.

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

(GOOD END I)

Horde Prime is dead.

Princess Entrapta of Dryl claims his body, empire, and army by right of conquest. There isn’t much left of the first by the time she finishes experimenting with it, but the treasure trove of data provided is invaluable to the field of xenobiology. And to the new Empress’s Consort. Who loves her very much and made that perfectly clear once they’d gotten past the post-fight sex in the throne room and the temporary awkwardness that followed.

She’s got fleets full of new and fascinating technology, infinite galaxies to explore, masses of clones to study; (Watching them adjust to the idea of individuality is fascinating, there’s already an entire ship’s crew who started wearing maroon after spending an afternoon with Scorpia.) Her Lab Partner is right there with her, working on projects, trading theories and ideas even while lying in bed with Imp curled up in her hair and Emily in sleep mode in the corner.

Some of her friends don’t quite...understand her choices, but they also don’t have the power or authority to stop her anymore. That they’re still her friends after a regicide means a lot, even if the bi-monthly Princess Meetings involve a lot of dirty looks being thrown in Hordak’s direction. Which he ignores. Pointedly. Without breaking anything, even! Which she definitely needs to check off on her progress list for Social Experiment 51-B. Life, in the simplest possible terms, is ‘good’. Entrapta intends to keep it that way. Besides, a being who couldn’t accept that imperfections and accidents were what allowed scientific progress and the driving principles of the universe to move forward was far better off as a test subject.

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

(GOOD END II)

Hordak freezes at the sight of the apparent ‘ghost’ for only a moment before rage draws him back into its’ black, razor-edged pit. The rebel archer miscalculates and winds up dangling by his neck in a choking grip. “You DARE to use that shapeshifter’s tricks?” He snarls, eyes practically emitting heat from sheer force of will alone. “What -hgk- do you-?”

“Do not LIE to me. Entrapta is dead.” They will regret this decision, for he will wring out their apologies along with their screams for mercy. But first. “And you are delaying my extermination of her murderer.” Catra will pay. For every action she had done, every lie told, every second of time she wasted while Entrapta was sent and abandoned to die on Beast Island. (It has been five Etherian seven-day units of time. No sentient being could have survived that long.) His grasp is suddenly surrendered when Double Trouble uses the existing rope-line and their imitation prehensile hair to swing down and tackle him to the ground. The attempts he makes at ripping the face off of this pretender end with his wrists bound above his head, growling in impotent fury.

“Hordak! I found the First Ones’ database at the centre of Beast Island! It’s a technological wonder-pure information buried in the midst of a sentient hazardous waste disposal site that slowly paralyzes and consumes any being exposed to it.” A pause for breath is accompanied by a tiny shudder that most people...probably wouldn’t notice. “Anyway, Bow and Adora showed up in a spaceship-I totally need to study it properly later- and I rescued them even though they were supposed to be rescuing me, there was this weird guy who ate bugs and oh! I made a new friend. She’s really great and didn’t have any problems with me sitting in her mouth.” Entrapta tilts her head at him, looking mildly confused and then hesitant. “You...really didn’t abandon me?” The question is quiet, a complete departure from her energetic explanations. She seems almost scared of what his answer might be, hair releasing his wrists now that he’s stopped struggling.

Hordak is stricken, tears welling in his eyes as he carefully sits up. He didn’t notice the changes in her appearance before, the indications that she couldn’t possibly be the form-changing mercenary. If this is another lie, and he is about to be killed for believing it, then he no longer cares. His fingers slowly, gently caress the hair along her scalp. “No. Never.” He’s never known her to be particularly fond of touching people with any part of her body aside from her hair...Yet they wind up with her arms around his shoulders and his around her waist. “I have been an utter fool.” Hordak murmurs, the upper half of his face resting against her left shoulder. “Believing you were a traitor from the start. Catra is a proven liar, and you...” The words catch in his throat for a moment. He has never done this before. Had neither wanted nor needed to until now. With her. “Entrapta. I need you.” Somehow he gathers the courage to meet her eyes and finds them as moist as his, but she also looks...pleased?

Entrapta sniffles. “I kind of gave up on you while I was imprisoned. Bow offered me some good advice, though.” She smiles, even if it’s a touch shaky. “Hey, we’re both imperfect, right? Just means we need to keep working on it.” She considers the question a success when he laughs softly and smiles at her in turn, their foreheads coming to rest against one another. Hm. His armor is missing the central crystal. She’ll have to ask about that, locate it, and tell him what the writing on it translates to. She loves him too, and he deserves to know it as an absolute proven fact. In time, they’ll rebuild what is broken (The Fright Zone is a mess, for starters.). When nothing arrives to block out the stars, no further attempts to contact Horde Prime are made. They have enough to keep them busy for a very long time. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(A/N: In Bad End II Entrapta is unconscious the whole time because I am a firm believer that she is capable of murdering him in 2.5 seconds. Especially if he has the alien equivalent of a jugular or carotid artery. So originally I was going to add reactions from Bow and Glimmer in Good End II buuuuut this is already decently long and their dialogue would have boiled down to Bow quietly squeeing, Glimmer going WTF?!, Entrapta being cheerfully blunt and Hordak scowling because You’re Interrupting A Moment, Godsdamnit.  Horde Prime accidentally flew into a black hole or something, IDK. One last thing. I’ve never written a neurodivergent character (coded or otherwise), so if I have butchered Entrapta’s character and/or written something that is offensive; I deeply apologize and will look to correct this if provided with constructive criticism.)

[naveenkumarchandra]

Amazon: The Lungs which got Cancer

I am sure all of you, most of you, have at least heard or read somewhere about the fires that have engulfed the Amazon Rainforest. Many of you might be wondering, Well, it is annual phenomenon, why is it that it has created such an outcry this time? Why are these rain forests so important anyways? Why is it important to notice it and do something about it? Is there anything which we can do?

To start with, let me first tell you, why are we even talking about Amazon and what’s so special about it. Amazon Rainforest, or Amazon Jungle, geographically almost twice as big as India, is a tropical rainforest, spreading over an area of 7,000,000 sq km, covering some part of nine nations in the continent of South America. It makes up for more than half of the world’s total rainforest area. As far as the biodiversity is concerned, it would need an article of its own to do justice of the sheer scale, but, you can get an idea by the fact that, it is estimated that, it is home to 10% of world’s biodiversity and source of 20% of Earth’s oxygen. In addition to this, being a sink for about 140 billion tons of carbon, it is almost singlehandedly fighting climate change. It is in short, being a huge hydrological engine, is controlling the ocean currents which in turn regulate the climate all over the planet.

But forest fires, even in the Amazons are an annual affair. So, why is it that this has created such future this time around. Firstly, forest fires, caused naturally are not bad and are even desirable, as a controlled fire is many times used to halt a forest fire, clear dead vegetation to give way to fresh one, which in turn supports wildlife. But, the ones we are talking about are not controlled fires but disasters. Added to the fact that almost 17%-18% of the Amazon rainforest has already been lost to deforestation by 2018, these fires, if allowed to continue would mean a tipping point where these forests would soon be converted to waste lands, in turn destroying the planet itself.

Amazon, if lost, would leave us without our lungs. Can you imagine your life without your lungs? Absolutely not right, thus, what we essentially are hoping is that our planet will somehow manage to live without its lung when we have already given it many respiratory diseases of huge carbon di oxide, methane, carbon mono oxide in the air. This would mean if we take away lungs from a man suffering from asthma and hope he survives.

So, what can we do?

You might be already heartbroken to see the scale of the problem. You might also be wondering what can I as an individual ever do. Well, it’s true, the problem is in fact huge but. It’s also true that as an individual, alone, you can’t go there and put the fire out, no one can. But, you can in fact, contribute to make sure that this event does not happen again. You can contribute to ensure that people come to know about it. You can contribute and make sure that people know that this is the most important piece of news of the year and should get the attention it deserves.

Here’s a list of what you can do:

* Donate to “Rainforest Action Network” to protect an acre of the Amazonian rainforest.

* Donate to the “Rainforest Trust” to help buy land in the rainforest. Since 1988, the organization has saved over 23 million acres. 

https://www.rainforesttrust.org/

* Reduce your paper and wood consumption. Double-check with “Rainforest Alliance” that what you're buying is considered rainforest-safe. You can also purchase rainforest-safe products from the alliance's site. 

* Reduce your beef intake. Beef found in processed products and fast-food burgers often comes from the rainforest.

* The World Wildlife Fund for Nature (known as the World Wildlife Fund in the US and Canada) works to protect the  species in the Amazon and around the world. 

* “Ecosia.org”, is a search engine that plants a tree for every 45 searches you run.  

* Explore “Change.org” petitions. A lawyer in Rio Branco has accumulated over 77,000 of his 150,000 signature goal to mobilise support to start an investigation into the cause of these fires. 

* Donate to “Amazon Watch”, an organization that protects the rainforest, defends Indigenous rights and works to address climate change. 

* Donate to the “Amazon Conservation Team”, which works to fight climate change, protect the Amazon and empower Indigenous peoples. 

* “Amazon Conservation”, accepts donations and lists exactly what your money goes toward. You can help plant trees, sponsor education, protect habitats, buy a solar panel, preserve Indigenous lands and more.

* Donate to “One Tree Panted”, which works to stop deforestation around the world and in the Amazon Rainforest. One Tree Planted will keep you updated on the Peru Project and the impact your trees are having on the community. 

* Sign Greenpeace Petition, telling the Brazilian government to save the Amazon rainforest and protect the lands of indigenous and traditional communities. 

* Use your social media to spread the message.

[notesinthearchives-blog]

[This entry was redacted from the Book of the War and history at large for reasons of Homeworld security. The copy below has been kept for analysis. See addendum for further notes from our own investigations of the topic]

Homeland Relay [Lesser Species (?): Group/Technology]: The story of the homeland relay should have been a relatively dull and simple thing from the so called "galactic empire" era of human history. At its most basic, each individual homeland relay was a small, mostly automated space station with a crew of 3-5 people.

Messages and news from Earth would be encoded as light, before being shot through a primitive sub-spatial dimension that would allow the message to move at even greater speed whilst avoiding the worst of the dust and radiation and other things that could distort the light. The message would be intercepted by another homeland relay, which would check the data for distortions, before re-encoding it into light again and shooting it on to the next homeland relay, on and on until its inevitable destination.

The homeland relays should have been just another symptom of the centrality of Earth in human thought at the time: as all roads once led to Rome, so all the homeland relays led out from and back to Earth, with even various rival empires and break away factions being fundamentally linked back to their homeland. By all rights, the homeland relays should have become redundant after Earth was destroyed.

As we now know, they didn't. Something kept sending messages to the relays.

Here information becomes scarse, until recently our main sources of information on the homeland relays and their inhabitants were the devastation they would leave behind: fake distress beacons luring in help that would never leave the space station; colony ships passing too close would find their hibernating passengers drained dry of blood and their corridors infested with strange carnivorous bats; nearby planets finding themselves visited by strange ships in the dead of the night, powerless to stop their townsfolk being herded into the ships and never seen again.

Strangely, the inhabitants of the homeland relays weren't the only thing that was changed after contact with this new signal: the local structure of space-time itself appears to have been affected. Visitors to the space around the homeland relays reported that light appeared to shine dimmer; whilst entropy seemed to take on increasingly aesthetic qualities; even death itself was a more negotiable concept for the lesser species.

We have more information from when the inhabitants took a more evangelistic approach: making the shift from space travelling apex predators to being the leaders of militarised religious sects. But even here direct information from them was cryptic, vague and usually overladen with mysticism; and close examination generally suggested that their rhetoric and explanations of their nature were usually crafted to facilitate an infiltration and high jacking of the local institutions and power structures.

A few general themes can be discerned from their sermons: claims that the Earth that was destroyed being a fake Earth, a course not meant to be taken, but there is hope as the armies of the real Earth were coming: a prince or a knight or a messiah carrying the blood of a dragon leading the charge. Drawing from this, the general consensus among later post humans is that the whole affair was a particularly bloody overreaction to Earth being destroyed- a sort of apocalyptic theology or inverted apocalyptic theology for a post apocalypse culture. Select War historians are less sure [data corrupted, unretrievable]

We can learn more from their impact: after converting the leaders at a local and planetary level they'd set up strangely hedonistically inclined theocratic states. These appear to have meant to be temporary: less meant to be a pillar of society and more as a way of preparing society for holy (or perhaps unholy) war. Both internal warfare against dissidents and cannibalistic crusades against nearby cultures were the norm, yet neither of these were the ultimate target: instead being a way of priming the population for what was to come.

Though it is not difficult to guess who this future war was meant to target, we do not have to worry: the homeland relay, the so called "homeland cults" that grew from them and their theocracies were largely exterminated by the House Military's second wave before they were ready for such a war. Doubtless a few relics remain, the Anticonvent culture, for example, was largely ignored by the House Military due to a combination of their isolation and comparative absence of bloodlust and war mongering instinct, but the days when these could have had an impact on the War at large are gone.

Addendum 1 [addendum uses common codewords- "Hand", shortened to "Ha", for the leader of field operations in this theatre of War; "Mind" being the collective statements of his superiors and shortened to Mi"]

Ha-- Circumstantial evidence suggest that earlier conclusions may have been optimistic- we know damage to space-time in affected areas was diluted and contained but never mended. Permission to reexamine second wave's data in conjunction with modern surveillance Y/N?

Mi---- Y- permission granted. [see addendum 2]

Addendum 2.1 [Timeline corruption- destroyed by interference earlier in timeline. We have preserved addendum from this timeline- see 3.1 for start of current timeline]

Ha-- It appears that there were more survivors from the homeland relays than previously thought. The cult known as The Lesser Brides has been confirmed as having survived- they appear to have altered the sub-spatial dimension the homeland relay used to send messages, essentially dragging at the very least the space station itself and a population of unknown size into it. An extended stake out found that they were leaving the dimension to collect resources and recruits.

Ha---- Further information will require the infiltration of the sub-spatial dimension itself. Permission to launch infiltration Y/N?

Mi-------- Y- permission granted [see addendum 2.2]

Ha---- The discovery of The Lesser Brides leaves open the possibility that other homeland relay groups may have survived. In particular, their use of sub-spatial dimensions may have been replicated by others, and may suggest that they have the support of some time active power. Permission to launch wider scale investigation with House Military heavy support Y/N?

Mi-------- Y- permission granted [see addendum 2.3]

Addendum 2.2 Ha-- Infiltration successful- our agent is in the Lesser Brides' sub-spatial dimension and is sending reports to us. Posing as a local posthuman, he was initiated into a cult we had confirmed the Lesser Brides had been using as a recruitment tool.

Ha---- Initial description from agent follows, full log sent via [data corrupted- unretrievable]

   "Imagine walking inside a tube large enough to fit a cathedral in: that you can see so high and goes on for so long that no matter where you look you get vertigo. Imagine now that gravity is subjective: that where ever you place your feet is down for all intrinsic purposes and, if you know how, you can fall upwards or sideways. Now imagine if this tube was filled to the brim with architecture built to take advantage of this. Domed temples floating in mid air- their insides painted in a colour you'd swear was midnight black were it not for the fact that it glittered. Impossibly tall towers- the bells at their top causing vibrations that cause chimes throughout the rest of the tower to sing for hours in perfect harmony. Canals great and small, whose ink black water flows smoothly even at right angles or double backing on itself- which after defying gravity in a thousand different ways proceeds to link back to its source in a sprawling möbius loop."  

   "There are people who have lived there entire lives here. The canals are dotted with boat houses and little Venices; every tower and temple is maintained and guarded by its own unholy order that grows most of their new members in vats; whilst the many parentless hybrid children are nursed and raised in crèches by what I believe to be the people closest to original Lesser Brides aesthetically speaking. The children are fed the Bride's milk as babies, are gently corrected as they consider rebellion, and diligently cared back to health as they fall sick. For abominations against history and nature, the Brides make for excellent parents."  

Ha------ this log has come to my attention, and makes me concerned that our agent may be at risk of being compromised. Permission to extract him Y/N? Extract from log below:

   "We visited a planet under the Brides' influence. No, that's an oversimplification. The planet we visited had a forty hour day, with the average night in the areas with some population (excluding the poles for instance) generally varying from 15 to 26 hours depending on the season and distance from the equator. The governing bodies of the planet lay claim to different hours of the day. The governing bodies that control the hours where there is sunlight year round are fairly conservative Arcadian or proto-Arcadian post human cultures. The hours near midnight are governed by the law of the Lesser Brides. When one government goes to sleep, another one wakes up."  

   "In between these hours the patterns of law and authority wane and wax from one to the other, changing based on what they can plausibly enforce and what one will let the other get away with. In these not quite either hours, a network of hybrid subcultures flourish: party goers and cultists; musicians and gangs; the night shift staff and the strange customers that they service..."  

   "... It was a dispute over one of these not quite either hours that drew us from the subspace dimension. Matron Tremaine was arriving as a diplomat, I was part of her retinue. I didn't see what negotiations went on, but her opposite number left looking fairly pleased with himself, apparently having wrangled substantial concessions out of her. Matron Tremaine was also satisfied with the concessions, giving me the impression that her opposite number didn't quite grasp the power of who they were negotiating with..."  

   "As Matron Tremaine later said to us, 'It pays to maintain good relations with our neighbours. Afterall, we are always recruiting.' I could have sworn the Matron gave a pointed look in my direction, and for a moment I was worried that my cover was blown. I relaxed when I realised that surely they'd have done something already if they knew..."  

Ha-------- Belay that request. After a worrying but understandable period of silence from our agent, we have received her latest and almost certainly last entry and are now certain that she was compromised before regenerating into a form that was antithetical to Homeworld's interests. The entry was generated by our agent's emergency protocols that act to inform us in the event of our agent's corruption by hostile powers. Extract below:

   "I was on my knees for the ceremony. My Husband was absent in the flesh but nevertheless there in spirit as He was for us all. Two of my fellow brides lifted up the veil of my wedding dress as Matron Tremaine brought the goblet- holding it up to my mouth. The Blood of the Dragon slid smoothly down my throat, painting my lips a deep, dark red as it passed down."  

   "As the matron took the goblet away, the younger brides took my wrists and sunk their fangs into it. My internal weaponry wanted to activate, as if by reflex, but I restrained it as the brides drank deeply. My throat, of course, was Matron Tremaine's to take. Moving to her knees to access it, spilling rose petal stains down my dress and hers, I was rendered utterly powerless in her grasp..."  

   "I was faint when the deed was finally done, my white dress having turned a liquid red. My ceremony was not yet over: it finished with my chest impaled upon Matron Tremaine's spear. My protocols of regeneration kicked in, now guided by the Blood of the Dragon in my belly. I awoke from the fires of my rebirth with a form made to my Husbands desires, and with hungers the likes of which I had never experienced... Hungers my fellow brides were only to happy to teach me how best to sate..."  

   "Now? My past life seems like a dream, like something that happened to someone else. Did I really live in a world of dull colours and duller senses before the Blood of the Dragon made me see colours so vibrant?"  

   "Did I really half live a half life in service to my House before my Husband taught me to live- really live, really feel alive- in a body of beautiful dead flesh?"  

   "Was I really that pathetic?"  

   "And then there's you, my former masters. Its just like you to install a back door in my biodata, too late for me to stop now of course even with the Blood of the Dragon now cutting my links to the Homeworld. So I suppose I'm stuck with an audience for now. Very well. I can live with that."  

   "Afterall, I don't think anyone has told you just how pathetic you are."  

   "I was pathetic once, but I had the possibility to become something better. You can't even achieve that."  

   "And I now know, that you are nothing."  

   "You are nothing compared to the Prince who carries the Blood of the Dragon, yet alone the Mother of Monsters who empowered Him."  

   "He is coming for you."  

   "You will know fear."  

   "You will know death."  

   "You will know the [data corrupted- unretrievable]  

Addendum 2.3 [data corrupted- unretrievable]

Addendum 3.1

Ha-- Initial fears have been proven beyond doubt. We now have yet another front in the War. Status update attached below:

Probably using information obtained from our compromised agent, homeland cult known as Night's Children launched a surprise attack earlier in history- apparently having partially detached their sub-spatial dimension from history itself- to make war on the local House sympathising societies. The homeland cults Knights of the Dead Suns, Haemomancer Covens, and Night's Black Agents swiftly replicated this tactic.

Just as our forces mobilised to exterminate these forces, the homeland cults took action later in history: across the spatial territories of homeland cults long since exterminated that had been recolonised by various (mostly human or human derived) species, great machines activated and started butchering the colonists on an industrial scale. After the population was sacrificed in these Moloch Engines, the blood spilt seemingly resurrected the dead homeland cults and their theocracies, which started making war on House sympathising societies later in history.

As it stands, our forces have driven back the homeland cults positioned earlier in history and contained the theocracies later in history, current tactics are relying on waging a war of attrition with the understanding that we can afford the losses and they can't. Previous attempts to recapture their territory or wage a more retroactive war against the cults and activated Moloch Engines were bogged down fighting time active partisan cells. We are currently mobilising a task force for locating a destroying any other Moloch Engines before they activate.

The Lesser Brides and a number of other homeland cults have retreated into their sub-spatial dimension completely, our forces currently have them under siege. In light of our agent being compromised, we suspect that the Lesser Brides may soon have access to some Homeworld cultural-genetic weaponry, but nothing the Faction hasn't already traded in and nothing that should be a problem as long as the Lesser Brides remain contained.

The Anticonvent remain unhostile, but we continue monitoring them both for changes in behaviour and information on the source of their transmissions [data corrupted- unretrievable].

Ha---- we are containing the homeland cults, and projections show that in the long run we are winning or at least can maintain this stance indefinitely. However, Homeworld has essentially infinite resources, of which we are using a comparatively pitiful amount to fight these enemies. Even when we reach a point where we can launch retroactive warfare without interference, the homeland cults hiding within their sub-spatial dimensions will remain a security risk, and judging by past and current experience there is a good chance that those forces that we defeat will just stubbornly refuse to stay dead.

Ha----Request: can I have use of heavier firepower to deal with them Y/N? Currently, most of the forces I am using are either allied cultures in the region or conscripted auxilia forces. Whilst functional at containing the threat, they are utterly inadequate for eliminating it. I would like to emphasise that the homeland relay cults are affecting the local structure of space time: we have no idea what kind of damage they are doing but what is certain is that the longer we dither the more difficult it will be to repair.

Mi-------- N- request not granted. Homeworld's resources may be infinite but our attention isn't. Our situation is one of distractions: if we take the time and effort to deal with enemies like the ones you are fighting the real enemies will start advancing on a thousand more important, more delicate fronts. The homeland cults, if they are still around when we win the War, will be relatively easy to mop up afterwards. This is a minor front after all, even if we look at who is sending the signals [data corrupted- unretrievable].

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Link to archive of our own version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17042054/chapters/42320339

[tsanxietybaking]

I think i didn’t mention it before, but I like using wild growing edible plants in my cooking. In the polish climate, when spring comes some young plants in the first phase of growth can be eaten. Often they have great healing properties. In one or two months some of them will become slightly toxic or gully in texture, so can’t be used in the kitchen anymore. 

The herbs I like and use are; nettle (pokrzywa), goutweed (podagrycznik), milfoil (krwawnik), hop(chmiel), daisies(stokrotka), Sor-thistle( mlecz), ramson (czosnek niedżwiedzi), wild rose(dzika róża)