#even though my set crew was very very small and given very little freedom

[amateurghoul]

I desperately want to be involved in a production of Ride the Cyclone, I love the show so much but no connections to my University Theater or local Theaters 😢😢

[officialleehadan]

Training Dance

Hello darlings! Today’s story was brought to you by Stella! Darling, thank you so much for all your support! I hope you love it!

Prompt: Pirate’s Princess

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Talianora preferred skirts.

Oh, it wasn’t that she was uncomfortable in trousers like the rest of the ladies aboard the Monsoon, but she liked the heavy weight of skirts around her ankles. She also liked the way the thick cotton kept the sun off in the day and the chill off in the night.

It was a small thing to hold onto from her life in the castle, and many of the sailors thought it a little bit odd. Then again, many of the women in the crew had taken their place on the Monsoon to escape the obligations of their womanly ‘duties’. They sought freedom, and freedom from the often-impeding clothing was part of that.

Talianora liked them though. They were comfortable. Oh, she wore trews underneath of course, along with high boots, with a dagger tucked into them. It wasn’t her only blade, nor the only one she had hidden beneath the voluminous skirts.

As it turned out, they were also particularly good for hiding weapons of all sort.

More importantly, during weapons practice, it gave her an odd advantage. If her opponent couldn’t figure out where her legs were, they couldn’t hit them. It was a useful frustration and one that Talianora worked to capitalize on when she could.

“Move your feet!”

Raksha was a merciless teacher. Talianora didn’t expect her lover’s fondness for her to bring any sort of ease in training, and her expectation was absolutely correct.

She danced backwards across the Monsoon’s wooden deck as Raksha came at her, a short, curved sword in each hand. Talianora herself had  matching set, although she was nowhere near the pirate captain’s skill. Raksha was determined to change that as quickly as possible. They trained daily, and though Talianora was sore, she found herself quickly growing stronger.

“You’re a fine dancer. Stop forgetting to move!” Raksha snapped, still on the attack. She was more than skilled enough to pull her blows, which stung even though they were using wooden swords, not steel, but she only pulled them a little. The bruises smarted, but they also drove the lessons home. Talianora did her best to twist away from those quick blows, and only partially succeeded. “I’ve seen you. You’re all grace when you remember you have feet!”

“Ah, be nice to th’ princess, Cap’n!” one of the onlookers, a woman by the name of Slash, called to them. She took her name from the scars that crossed her face in a web. Given, she had told Talianora, by a bladed whip, moments before Raksha killed the slaver wielding it. That whip would have been Slash’s death, if Raksha had not been there. “We’re all a little slow th’ first few rounds!”

Raksha leveled Slash with a very unimpressed stare. Talianora tried to capitalize on her distraction. Raksha twisted, pivoted on one foot neatly, and tripped Talianora flat on her back. Stunned, Talianora coughed, struggled a little as her lover pinned her to the deck.

“Got you,” Raksha purred with a wicked grin. Talianora wiggled suggestively, struggled ineffectively, and gave up. “All done?”

“Yes yes, you win,” Talianora told her, not terribly bothered to have lost. Raksha was known to be a marvel in battle, and Talianora, although she was learning quickly, was not her match. “Are you going to let me up?”

“When you’re so lovely on your back?” Raksha teased, seated astride Talianora’s hips, one hand pinning both of Talianora’s, and the other holding the blunted practice blade to her throat. “Ah Princess, I’m but a humble pirate with simple tastes. I don’t like to let go of treasure.”

“I can think of a better treasure awaiting in your stateroom,” Talianora told her, more bold than she ever would have been if they were on shore. Of course, Raksha had discovered that particular treasure many times, to the delight of them both, but sparring always got them both worked up. “If my pirate cared to carry me off.”

“Suppose I’ve already got you onto the ship. Doing less would be a crime against my own nature,” Raksha said thoughtfully, and got to her feet all at once, grace and tanned skin and muscles. Talianora found herself entirely entranced long enough that Raksha laughed at her and offered a hand to help her up. “But another bout or two first. Tempting as you are, my sweet, you’re more tempting yet with steel in your hands.”

Talianora got up, shook out her skirts, and scooped her fallen blades off the deck, before she moved back to the ‘ready’ positions where they always started. The Monsoon was a large ship, but deck space was still precious. The time spent training her, and all the other sailors who also worked to keep their skill sharp while they were at sea.

Sworn to a rebellion or not, the Monsoon still took prey at sea. They were a working pirate ship, and they relied on the ships they took to keep the crew and her captain fed. Their skills kept them alive and in the gold they needed badly.

“Right,” Raksha said, instead of lifting her blades again. She circled Talianora with a critical eye. “You’ve been practicing and it shows. Now it’s time to start cleaning up your footwork. Let’s dance.”

+++

Pirate's Princess

Fly for Freedom (Subscriber Only!)

Rebellion Arrangements (Subscriber Only!)

Training Dance (New!)

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MASTERLIST

[local-triggerhead]

[Theory/Analysis] The Motives of Each Eugenicist

Wow, look at me rising from the graves and dusting off this account after 800 years like it's nothing. Your Trigger hype beast is back baby, if any of you still remember me.

This post contains spoilers for both Gridman and Dynazenon.

Ahem. I want to make this post to gather my thoughts and better understand the antagonists of the show, as they aren't heavily featured and explored like Akane. It's just my own analysis based on what I can observe in the show, so some parts would be more vague and generate different interpretations. This analysis may seem obvious to some and not so much to others, but I hope it'll offer some clarity regardless. Tl;dr at the bottom.

The General Motive

It's pretty much given in the show. The Kaiju Eugenicists wanted to destroy humanity and create a world where themselves and kaiju can live and be accepted. They believe that the world is a better place as you're no longer being tied down by human bonds, granting you unrestricted freedom beyond even the laws of physics. This is their shared goal. However, each of them have separated purposes and things they want to achieve along with this.

Onija

Let's start with the 2 more obvious cases. Onija clearly stated what he wanted to do - kill all humans. How many times did he yell this out? It's kind of shoved-in-your-face. No other Eugenicists expressed this desire as strongly as he did. At the base level, he simply wanted to live. He was brutally killed once and was determined to not let it happen again no matter what. This is why "I thought I was dead" was a constant running joke. It's also why Onija had a deep personal grudge towards Gauma and humans, who were the cause of his death 5000 years ago.

Juuga

Juuga had a deep admiration for Gauma and looked up to him. Unlike Onija, he didn't wish to oppose Gauma, but to make an alliance instead. When the Eugenicists first appeared, Juuga said:

It's clear from this line that he wanted things to be the way it was 5000 years ago, where they were a group of friends working towards the same goal. He missed and yearned for that carefree time. The original Eugenicist group was the most important thing to him. You can see that he never fought with any other Eugenicists, but remained calm and passive towards them at all times. This attitude only extended towards the Eugenicists, as he had no qualms about killing anyone else for his goal, including the Dynazenon crew.

Even when Mujina stole Dyna Striker, the first thing that came to his mind was using it to negotiate with Gauma and get him back.

Mujina

These last 2 Eugenicists are slightly more complicated to pick apart, as they process things more internally.

At first, Mujina was very indecisive and didn't buy much into this kaiju thing. All she wanted was to finish it quickly so she could leave. She was lost in life and just followed the other Eugenicists around because she had no directions of her own. Then Mujina found Koyomi, someone who also didn't have anything going for himself and just plainly a loser in his life. He was someone she could feel related to. Mujina's attitude supposedly changed after she was tackled by Koyomi, but I believe this just pissed her off and only played a part in her personality shift. The other cause, I think, was Sizumu's encouragement, where she "realized that kaiju is all [she has] got" and that she had to take responsibility for her actions.

Koyomi came to play a major role in episode 11, when Mujina witnessed him starting to look for a job. The only person who she could feel related to was unaffected by the aftermath of the kaiju and moving forward with ease. Meanwhile, Mujina, who had just found her purpose in life, lost it once again and was now completely stuck, as the future where the Eugenicists could live and be accepted was destroyed. When facing such a crisis, one would seek to put the blame on something for all of their problems, and Koyomi just happened to be the perfect target.

Sizumu

Toughest one to crack here, but I'll shoot my best shot. In the beginning, he opposed the Dynazenon crew the least among the Eugenicists. He suggested against killing them, had the most interaction with Yomogi and Yume, and suggested Mujina to return Dyna Striker for seemingly no reasons at all. His main reason for not killing Team Dynazenon was to see more kaiju, and getting close to Yomogi and Yume was for his kaiju to absorb their emotions. However, I believe there was another underlying reason that tied his actions together. He was looking for an alliance.

Contrary to Juuga, the alliance he was looking for didn't only include Gauma, but Team Dynazenon as a whole. To understand why he searched for this, we must first look at what he was. He had an ability that allowed him to hear kaiju voices, which gave him a much deeper understanding of kaiju compared to the other Eugenicists. Due to this, while the others more or less thought of kaiju as a mean to create a world where they can live and be accepted, Sizumu would consider kaiju as his own kind, so much so that he had a severe disconnection with humans. He distanced himself away from even the Eugenicists, almost as if he only tagged along because they shared the same basic goal.

He didn't seek to understand humans, but instead for humans to understand kaiju. His goal was to create a world where not only the Eugenicists were accepted, but kaiju themselves were accepted. He believed that the world was better off like this, because, from his perspective, kaiju could liberate people from human bonds and offer them unlimited freedom. To me, this is rather hypocritical as he never understood why people tied themselves to these bonds in the first place, so he wasn't in a position to say what was better and what wasn't.

Sizumu was the only Eugenicist to mention this kaiju power and express his distaste towards human bonds. He explained this very early on to Yomogi and Yume, and why did he do this, you may ask? Why, to help them understand his views and create an opening for a potential alliance, of course. If his only purpose was to absorb their emotions, then that's quite a lot of unnecessary effort to make himself look friendly and approachable to an uncanny degree, especially when being "friendly and approachable" wasn't his forte. No, he was testing the water to see if he could get them on his side.

Then came an unexpected opportunity for him to determine once and for all if Team Dynazenon can understand and accept kaiju. He let a failed kaiju run free and distracted the Eugenicists away from it (with a tactic he learned from Chise) to see what the Dynazenon crew would do. Some people said that it's to test if any of them were kaiju user, and while that's possible, I think it's a little unlikely. Sizumu only observed them at 2 instances, first was when they started the search for the kaiju, the second was when their beam destroyed the kaiju. Unless the kaiju voices could tell him, there would be no way for Sizumu to know if any of them used Instance Domination, until the very end when Yomogi used it on him. The likelier hypothesis would be: he saw them searching for the kaiju > he saw the kaiju being killed > he surmised that kaiju couldn't exist peacefully with Team Dynazenon, and didn't seem to be particularly happy about it.

From then on, Sizumu decided that they couldn't be his allies thus no longer approached Yomogi or Yume. It seems that he arrived to this final conclusion:

And this is where the series itself left off. Kaiju simply can't co-exist with humans. They are irregulars to the human society. Furthermore, the freedom that they offer can't be allowed to exist as running away from society and real human connections is wrong, even if reality is ugly and difficult to face. This is what make the series similar to Gridman. However, unlike Akane, the antagonists of Dynazenon failed to realized this and didn't get their happy ending.

(A detail that I'd like to mention is that Sizumu was silent during the entire final battle in contrast to the other Eugenicists who were pumping themselves up. It was like he was saying, "Didn't want to do this but I guess you left me with no choice". Though silence can mean anything so it's not a concrete evidence.)

TL;DR and Final Words

This is so much longer than I thought and I really apologize for it. I just don't want to make anyone do logical leaps when reading this post.

Tl;dr:

- Onija wanted to live and had a grudge towards Gauma and humans for causing his death.

- Juuga wanted Gauma to join them again and for things to be back the way it was 5000 years ago. He cared for nothing outside of the Eugenicists group.

- Munija wanted a purpose, found one, then lost it again. She envied Koyomi for regaining his sense of purpose and moving forward with his life.

- Sizumu wanted humans to understand kaiju and a world where kaiju can set humans free from their bonds. Initially considered an alliance with Team Dynazenon, but concluded that them (and people in general) couldn't understand kaiju after all.

- Final message of the show: Go touch some grass and talk to humans you fucking weebs.

Misc

When using Instance Domination, the palms of the Eugenicists always face towards the kaiju. The only exception is the last battle where Sizumu's palm faced towards himself, indicating that the kaiju was inside him. I believe that it was located at the center of his chest, where he shot out that weird magical light beam. Just a small thing I find interesting.

If we want to take it a step further, I believe the seed inside him had already grown into a kaiju, but it was still relatively small until he used Instance Domination on it. Eerie, huh?

And this is more of the theory territory and leaving the analysis, but this could possibly be why he was able to hear kaiju voices. Chise was able to understand Goldburn and translated for him at the end, so maybe having a kaiju inside of you would allow you to understand other kaiju somehow? If this is the case, he would probably have had the kaiju inside of him since 5000 years ago.

There's also this big brain moment from a 4chan user. The resemblance between Yume and Juuga is kinda uncanny considering they're both obsessed with the past.

That's it boys. I'm gonna crawl back into my hole until next century, or until Trigger drops Edgerunners. 8/10 show, VERY underrated gem. Trigger won't stop saving anime.

This post but on Reddit:

[short-wooloo]

For funsies imma just post all of Federation of Fear here

https://biosector01.com/wiki/Federation_of_Fear

Chapter 1

Vezon opened his eyes, astonished to still be alive. The last thing he remembered, he was surrounded by Zyglak, who seemed immune to his wit and charm. Then there was a flash, the sensation of being grabbed by someone far stronger than he, a weird sensation of travel, and darkness.

He looked around. The room he occupied was a large cell and he wasn’t in it alone. Vezon didn’t recognize any of the other four occupants, all of whom stood well away from the others. By reflex, he started calculating how long it would take to disable them and how quickly he could pick the lock of the cell door.

Vezon’s musings were interrupted by the appearance of a sixth figure outside the cell. He was tall, lean and strong, wore a domed helmet, and carried a wicked double-bladed sword. The newcomer looked over the five prisoners as if they were cargo-hauling Ussal crabs up for auction.

“My name is Brutaka,” the visitor said. “I know you have questions – I’m not here to answer them. Where you are, who I work for, what this place is – you don’t need to know. What you do need to know is that there are two, and only two, ways you can get out of here.”

A Xian female stepped up to the bars and said in a dangerously soft voice, “And they are?”

“You can walk out, Roodaka, under your own power, and carry out a mission for some friends of mine,” Brutaka replied. “Or I can carry you out, plant you in a hole outside, and we’ll see if anything grows.”

Brutaka turned his attention to the others. “All of you have something in common – you have all had dealings with the Brotherhood of Makuta. Roodaka, here, betrayed them to the Dark Hunters, then betrayed the Dark Hunters as well – now both sides want her dead. Takadox and Carapar over there are Barraki, whose armies were crushed 80,000 years ago by the Brotherhood. The Makuta in the corner is Spiriah, who fouled up an experiment on the island of Zakaz so badly that his own people marked him for death.”

Vezon timidly raised a hand. “Excuse me, oh brutal, blade-wielding, lover of gardening. I have never met any Makuta face to mask and wouldn’t know one if he stepped on me and ground me into the dirt. I think maybe you wanted someone else … I’m Vezon with an ‘n,’ you see, not Vezok with a ‘k,’ and --”

The crab-like Carapar loped over, picked up Vezon by the neck, and bounced him off the back wall. “You talk too much,” the Barraki growled.

“Oh, yes,” Brutaka muttered, shaking his head. “This is going to work out just fine.”

Chapter 2

Roodaka was furious. As she walked along the waterfront, clad in a cloak made of plant fibre, she imagined over and over again all the disgusting things she would someday turn Brutaka into with her Rhotuka spinner. One way or the other, he was going to pay for this.

Brutaka and his team – Roodaka, Vezon, Carapar, Takadox, and Makuta Spiriah – had arrived on the shores of the island of Stelt in a small boat. As soon as Roodaka recognized the skyline, she began to protest. Stelt was the home of the late Sidorak, her former comrade, and his people. Worse, Roodaka had set Sidorak up to be killed, and it was likely everyone on Stelt knew that. She would be about as welcome there as a Kikanalo stampede.

But Brutaka had insisted they would need a bigger boat to get where they were going, and this was the easiest place to get one. The only other team member to voice an objection was Spiriah, who believed Brotherhood of Makuta agents were waiting in every village to grab him.

“And just how are we going to purchase this boat?” Roodaka hissed. “We have no equipment, no arms other than yours, not even those ridiculous Matoran widgets. We have nothing of value to offer in exchange.”

“Of course we do,” Brutaka answered, as he pushed open the doors of a trading house. “We have you.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Carapar had seized her from behind. The team, along with the struggling Roodaka, stepped inside the dimly lit and foul smelling shack. The proprietor was one of Sidorak’s species.

“We’re here to make a purchase,” said Brutaka. “Your fastest ship, outfitted with supplies for a long voyage to the south.”

“To the south?” snorted the trader. “Meaning I will never see my ship, or you, again? Unless you can make me rich --”

Brutaka took the hood off Roodaka, who glared at him with murder in her eyes. “Would the reward you’ll get for capturing the killer of Sidorak be payment enough?”

The trader smiled and invited the party out to view his prize craft. So excited was he by visions of the wealth that would soon be his that he never noticed Takadox had slipped away. The boat turned out to be good-sized, well armed with disk launchers, and large enough to accommodate at least a dozen beings. A crew of large, blue and gray armored bruisers were at work on it now.

“We’ll take it,” said Brutaka. There was a loud splash from the ocean side of the ship, but no one paid much mind to it.

“And I’ll take the murderer,” the trader said. “Sidorak was no prize, but we can’t let Vortixx and Rahi kill our kind and get away with it, now can we?”

There was another splash, then another, and another. Brutaka ignored them. “Of course not. But if you want people to believe you caught this dangerous criminal, you will need to look like you’ve been in a fight. A light tap to your head would do the trick, perhaps. My colleague, Vezon, can handle it – you won’t feel a thing.”

“Ever again,” Vezon chimed in, smiling.

Splash. Splash. Splash.

The trader looked over Vezon, who was nowhere near as physically imposing as the rest of the team. How much damage could he do? “All right,” said the trader. “One blow – a light one! – just to look convincing.”

Vezon’s grin grew wider. Roodaka struggled against Carapar’s grip. Brutaka walked casually away from the scene, surveying the boat. Vezon drew his fist back. Then, in one smooth motion, Brutaka whirled and whacked the trader in the back of the head. The trader crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

“Hey!” said Vezon. “He was mine! I woudn’t have hurt him … much … and I only would have needed three or four hours and the right tools, just to make sure he would be no trouble.”

“That’s the point,” Brutaka replied. “You enjoy your work a little too much. Now everyone on board – that includes you, Roodaka.”

They climbed on the ship to find Takadox standing alone. The Barraki took a little bow, pointed to his hypnotic eyes, and said, “The crew decided to go for a swim, all at once. Imagine that.”

“Why all the trouble?” muttered Carapar. “We could have just stormed in and stolen the ship.”

“And had all of Stelt after us?” asked Brutaka. “Not to mention every Dark Hunter and Brotherhood member around, as soon as they heard Roodaka was here?”

“But what about the trader, you fool?” said Roodaka. “He saw me!”

Brutaka laughed as the ship moved slowly away from shore. “Who’s going to believe anyone stupid enough to stand still and get hit?”

Chapter 3

Brutaka and his bizarre crew had been at sea for three days when he called them all together. “It’s time to let you know our mission. And before you ask, you were all chosen for this trip for one very good reason: You’re expendable. No one is going to care if any of you live or die, which makes you ideal for this job.”

Carapar grumbled something unspeakably foul. Brutaka chose to ignore it.

“We are going to an island far south of anything on any chart,” Brutaka continued. “But it’s not uninhabited. In fact, it has one very special resident: a Makuta named Miserix.”

Now it was Spiriah’s turn to mutter something, though his words were more in shock than in anger.

“Miserix, for those of you who don’t know, was the leader of the Brotherhood of Makuta before the current holder of that title,” said Brutaka. “He was overthrown and wound up imprisoned on a volcanic island. He’s guarded by Rahi and the Great Beings know what else – things someone figured would be able to kill an escaping Makuta. And it’s our job to break him out.”

At first, none of the team members said anything. Then Takadox spoke up. “And what do we get out of this? Money? Power? Our freedom?”

Brutaka smiled. “You get to live another day.”

“And what do we do with him after we have him?” asked Roodaka. “Hold him for ransom?”

“That’s not your concern,” Brutaka replied. “All of you have a role to play in this mission. When we get close to the island, you will be given weapons and equipment. Try to run, at any time, and friends of mine will hunt you down – friends who make me look like a big, cuddly Ussal crab.”

It was Vezon who spotted them first. A small fleet of ragtag vessels was approaching from the west. They were about the ugliest boats one could imagine, slapped together from remnants and wreckage and barely sea-worthy. But he wasn’t focused on the look of the ships, but rather the identity of their crews.

“Zyglak!” he shouted.

The others rushed to the rail to look. Sure enough, the reptilian beings known as “the Great Beings’ mistakes” were manning the ships. Notoriously violent and destructive, Zyglak hated the Great Spirit Mata Nui and anything associated with him. It was doubtful they were paying a social call.

Brutaka tried to steer the ship away from them, but the wind and waves were not cooperating. After a few minutes, he realized why: Makuta Spiriah was using his power over weather to keep the ship in place.

“Did you really think it would be this easy?” said Spiriah. “I deduced our goal days ago and passed a message to my Zyglak friends through channels on Stelt.”

Vezon looked horrified. He had spent many days a captive of the Zyglak not so long ago. It wasn’t an experience he was anxious to repeat. “Friends? Zyglak don’t have friends... just meals they haven’t eaten yet.”

“They are outcasts,” said Spiriah. “And so am I. Now, Brutaka, I am taking command of this ship. We will be setting a new course, for the island of Zakaz. It was there that I met defeat and disgrace – there that my grand experiment failed, because the inhabitants were too savage to know what to do with my gifts. It is their fault I was cast out of the Brotherhood – and now they are going to pay!”

Chapter 4

It had been three days since Spiriah’s takeover of the team’s vessel. Since then, they had steered a course for the island of Zakaz, surrounded on every size by boats filled with murderous Zyglak. Spiriah had been acting every inch the captain of the ship, ordering the others about and being particularly hard on Brutaka. Through it all, Brutaka said nothing and made no attempt to strike at Spiriah.

“To think, we were beginning to feel a little afraid of him,” Takadox said, gesturing toward Brutaka.

“Speak for yourself,” Carapar replied.

“Home,” beamed Vezon. “True, I’ve never been to Zakaz... I’m not even really one of the native species... in fact, they’ll probably kill me on sight... or worse, tie me upside down over a spiked dagger plant... but at least I’ll die at home.”

Roodaka had abandoned any hope that Brutaka was going to act and concentrated instead on Spiriah. “The Brotherhood has overextended itself in recent years,” she assured him. “Warring with Dark Hunters and Toa... they are weak. If you struck at them now with your army, you could take over Destral and rule the universe. Of course, you would need someone by your side who knows all the factions and how best to use them...”

Spiriah looked at her as if she were something stuck to his boot. “I would sooner offer my neck to a dull axe blade than trust you, female. Your name has become another word for ‘treachery.’”

“Better that than being another word for ‘failure,’” Roodaka muttered.

The conversation was ended by the appearance of land off the port bow. It was the island of Zakaz, in all its ruined “glory.” A handful of Dark Hunter vessels could be seen in the waters nearby, on patrol. At a word from Spiriah, the Zyglak vessels attacked. Taken by surprise, three of the Dark Hunter ships were sunk immediately. The others beached on the shores of the island, only for the crews to be slain by a mob of Skakdi natives.

Spiriah laughed at the sight. “The Skakdi believe they know what savagery is,” he said. “But they have never met the Zyglak. And the Makuta believe they know all the colors and shapes of revenge... but I will introduce them to a shade darker than even they could imagine.”

The mini-armada surged forward, Zyglak already preparing to storm the beaches. They were still 500 yards from shore when the first Zyglak ship suddenly lurched and began to sink. This was followed by another and still another. Soon, Zyglak vessels on every side were taking on water, gaping holes torn in their hulls below the water line.

Takadox rushed to the rail. He caught a glimpse of beings just under the water, attacking the Zyglak craft. From a distance, they almost looked like his old ally, Ehlek. Whatever they were, they moved like fish underwater and the ships were no match for their claws.

Shocked by the abrupt annihilation of his force, Spiriah was unprepared for Brutaka’s attack. An energy blast knocked him off his feet, a well-placed kick kept him on the ground, and then Brutaka’s blade was pressed against his chest armor.

“Go ahead,” Brutaka said, coldly. “Use one of your powers. Think you can do it before I rip open your armor? And how long do you think your energy will last out here, with no body to occupy? Or maybe I should just throw you overboard right now.”

“How... ?” Spiriah began.

“How did I deal with the Zyglak?” said Brutaka. “Simple. You have friends; so do I. Mine are an species of water dwellers who were specially modified by my employers to kill Makuta. They live off the coast of Zakaz, and right now they are practicing their skills on your Zyglak. You don’t want to look... it’s messy.”

“Wait a minute,” said Takadox. “Not that I am complaining, but how did you manage to get in touch with these ‘friends’ of yours? You never left the ship.”

Brutaka hauled Spiriah to his feet. All around, the ocean was littered with wrecked ships and dead Zyglak. “Spiriah had his friends following us. And I had someone following us since we left Stelt, just in case of emergency... and here she comes now.”

The others turned to see a small skiff approaching from the east. Its lone pilot was a female, lithe and well-armed. As she came alongside and clambered above the ship, Roodaka noticed that her left arm was completely mechanical. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Spiriah.

“This is the last member of our team,” said Brutaka. “Treat her as you would me... and be sure she will treat you even worse than I do. Her name’s Lariska.”

Chapter 5

Lariska stood at the bow with Brutaka, watching the ship cleave through the water. Behind them, the other members of the team were keeping a careful eye on Makuta Spiriah – not that they could have done much to stop him if he tried to make a break. But Brutaka had done a little math and explained to Spiriah how many hours he was likely to survive once the Brotherhood of Makuta knew where he was. Then he assured Spiriah that if the ship and its occupants were all destroyed, the Brotherhood would be notified immediately where to start looking.

That was a bluff, of course. But Spiriah had spent a lot of his life fleeing from his former comrades, and running and hiding get to be habits after a while. As Brutaka expected, Spiriah bought it and backed off.

The ship had veered away from Zakaz and was on its way south. There was one more stop to make before they headed for their ultimate target. This was the one Brutaka dreaded – it was time to arm the team.

The island that came into view was little more than a piece of barren rock. It was not the original site for this meeting, but plans had changed. Two Order of Mata Nui members, Botar and the nine-foot tall warrior named Trinuma, had been dispatched with a cache of weapons for a rendezvous on a small, wooded island just off the mainland. But a Makuta named Icarax had spotted their appearance and attacked. The fight was furious, but brief. Botar was slain, crushed by the Makuta’s magnetic power, and Trinuma barely escaped to tell the tale. In desperation, he stored the weapons at the first place he came to before returning to Daxia with the tragic news.

The ship dropped anchor just off the coast. Brutaka warned Takadox and Carapar he would be keeping a careful eye on them on the swim over, just in case they got any funny ideas about diving deep and escaping. Vezon was the first to react when they set foot on the rocky shore.

“There is something... wrong here,” he said, his tone unusually serious. “Something beyond even my powers to cope with.”

“You don’t have any powers, freak,” Carapar roughly reminded him.

“I don’t?” Vezon said, seemingly confused. “Where was I when they were being handed out? Let me see... Makuta’s lair... Voya Nui... tunnels... prison... how could I have missed the meeting, I was always where the action was.”

“Quiet,” said Lariska, dagger drawn. “There is one true statement in your babble. There is something not right in this place.”

Brutaka approached, carrying the weapons. Takadox took a long, thin blade, while Carapar grabbed a broadsword. Roodaka pounced on a Rhotuka launcher. Brutaka handed Spiriah a projectile weapon and warned him with a cold smile not to point it at himself... or anyone else. Vezon got a spear, which he turned over in his hands with no real enthusiasm.

“What’s it do?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Brutaka answered. “But with your powers, you don’t need it, right?”

Vezon brightened. “Right,” he agreed, having forgotten once again that he had no powers. Carapar growled in frustration and stalked away.

“We have what we came for,” Takadox said nervously. “Let’s go.”

“There’s something in that cave up ahead,” said Lariska. “I can hear what sounds like breathing, but it’s a... wet sound, as if the being were inhaling through mud. And there’s something else... it almost sounds like... something slithering.”

Spiriah took a step back. “I know where we are,” he said, his eyes darting from side to side as if expecting an attack. “Mutran told me of this place, though it didn’t look like this ages ago. We have to go. We have to go now!”

But it was already too late. Vast walls of rock suddenly sprang up from the shore line, forming a 200-foot high wall around the island and cutting the team off from their boat. “Blast it down,” Brutaka ordered. But even the power of his blade was not enough to penetrate the stone.

Spiriah had shapeshifted himself some wings and was trying to fly over the top. A sharp spear of stone erupted out of the top of the wall and impaled one of his wings, sending him spiraling toward the ground. Lariska ran, leapt, hit the wall feet first, and propelled herself into mid-air to catch the falling Makuta.

There was no time to marvel at her athletic feat or make other attempts to escape. For now a voice was coming from the cave, but not a voice like anyone present had ever heard before. It sounded like the slimy, repulsive sound that comes when a nest of feeder worms is disturbed. Even Brutaka had to suppress a shudder.

“Visitors,” said the voice. “At last.”

“Who are you?” said Brutaka. “Did you imprison us here? I warn you, you don’t know the power you face.”

A massive tentacle shot out of the cave, wrapping itself around Brutaka and pulling him inside. The next moment, he was in the presence of something so horrible, so alien, that it took all his willpower just to hold on to his sanity.

“Now,” said the entity that held him in its grip. “Now tell Tren Krom of your power.”

Chapter 6

Brutaka tried to close his eyes. It didn’t help. He couldn’t get the image of Tren Krom out of his mind – a writhing, crimson mass of tentacles emerging from a gelatinous central core, with two dead yellow eyes that somehow followed every movement without ever moving themselves. At least, that was what he had seen at a glance – somehow, Brutaka knew to gaze for long at Tren Krom would be to invite madness.

The entity seemed over time to have merged with the stone floor and walls of its cave, so that lurker and place of concealment were one. The acrid stench of decay hung over everything. In vain, Brutaka tried to break free of the grip of Tren Krom’s tentacle. He could feel the strange being trying to probe his mind, but so far, Brutaka’s mental training had allowed him to resist. If that should fail, he knew, the secrets of the Order of Mata Nui would be exposed to this monster.

“What wonders have come into my universe in the millennia since my exile?” Tren Krom said softly, his voice as revolting as his form. “I must know!”

Hesitantly, the other members of Brutaka’s team had entered the cave, only to wish they hadn’t. It was only Lariska, protosteel dagger in hand, who kept them from fleeing.

“You think me an alien... an ‘other’...” Tren Krom continued. “But I am of the substance of this universe, and I walked here long before you or even Mata Nui himself. Have you not heard the tales?”

“There is a Tren Krom in legend,” said Brutaka. “But... the tales obviously left some parts out.”

Tren Krom laughed. The sound made the team wish death would come for them right now. “Before the Great Spirit Mata Nui was born, the Great Beings created one being who was purely organic. They taught me the ways of the universe they were creating and they placed me in its core. There I was to remain, maintaining the heat, the light, all the forces that made their creation whole...”

Brutaka had managed to work an arm partway loose. With a little luck, he would be able to get his hand on a dagger and cut himself free... all he needed was time. “So what happened? How did you end up here?”

“My time was always to be short,” Tren Krom replied. “I was to shepherd this universe until Mata Nui was prepared to take power. A Matoran of Light came to me and said the hour had come for me to move on... a crafter of canisters he was, whose sanity did not survive our encounter. I surrendered myself to my fate, only to be exiled here by the Great Beings and bound to this rock.” His voice tuned heavy with bitterness. “The universe, it seems, did not need two entities supreme.”

“What... what do you want with us?” whispered Vezon. “And please don’t say someone to hold your mirror for you.”

“I would know what has gone on in the universe in the last 100 millennia,” Tren Krom answered. “My visitors have been few in number. You seven will remain here and I will gain the knowledge I need from your minds... of course, sadly, you may have no minds left when I am done.”

“Why ask us?” said Lariska. “You obviously don’t really care.”

“Would you shut up?” hissed Carapar. “Rule number one: don’t annoy the giant, tentacled monster, or don’t they teach that one in The Shadowed One’s school?”

“Be quiet,” snapped Lariska. “Tren Krom... your universe is in danger. It’s our job to help save it. If you keep us here, you’ll be hurting the one thing you helped bring into being.”

Carapar edged slowly to the side, sword in hand. No one paid any attention – all eyes were on Lariska, who had been grabbed by one of Tren Krom’s many arms. Without the discipline Brutaka possessed, her mind was an open book to the entity. She screamed as a lifetime of memories were sifted through in an instant, screamed as she saw glimpses of the ancient mind of Tren Krom. When he finally released her, she collapsed on the stone floor.

“Mutran,” Tren Krom muttered to himself. “So long ago now, I entered his mind … and he mine … and so he learned how best to strike at Mata Nui. He and his kind have dared reach for power that fate chose to deny them. How... intriguing.”

“It’s more than that,” Brutaka said. “Tell him, Spiriah – tell him what will happen to him if the Makuta succeed in their plans.”

“If the Plan succeeds...” Spiriah began. He glanced around as if one of his former comrades might be somewhere nearby, listening. “A shadow will fall... Makuta will rule the universe, their will enforced by Rahkshi. Anyone with the power to threaten that rule will die... and that means anyone.”

“Impossible,” said Tren Krom. Suddenly, the minds of every team member were filled with nightmarish images projected by the tentacled entity, visions that would sicken even the mad. “No one can approach without my assent. No one can fight me. No one can kill me. I am eternal!”

Brutaka had his dagger in hand now. “Maybe not,” he said. “But I’m betting there was a time you said no one could bind you... and look what happened.”

Tren Krom paused in thought. Brutaka started to make his move, then caught Carapar out of the corner of his eye. The Barraki was raising his sword to strike the entity. It was too late to shout, too late to stop him.

Carapar brought his blade down, confident he had taken his enemy by surprise. Then a third eye suddenly appeared on Tren Krom, one gazing right at Carapar. The Barraki froze in mid-blow. A shaft of energy shot out from the eye, bathing him in its glow. The next instant, Carapar shattered into fragments as if he had been made of crystal. Then there was nothing left of him but a pile of glittering dust on the stone floor.

“I helped to birth a world of order,” Tren Krom whispered. “But from what I have seen in the female’s mind... you have turned it into a universe of madness and fear. It is not worth saving. But it is the universe you and your kind deserve.”

Tren Krom hurled Brutaka at his team. Spiriah used his magnetic powers to catch him before he could slam into the wall. The tentacles withdrew then, wrapping themselves around the core of Tren Krom’s being.

“Go,” the entity said. “Take yourselves from my prison... take your memories and plans with you... for the horrors already in your minds are worse than any I could visit upon you. I condemn you to your fate – life in the universe you and your kind have made.”

No one was going to take the time to argue. Gathering up Brutaka and Lariska, they fled the cave even as the stone walls that surrounded the island receded into the sand. Only Takadox paused to look back at the cavern where Carapar had died, wondering for a moment just what it would take to end the life of a being older than the stars.

Chapter 7

Brutaka and Lariska stood together, watching Takadox standing silently by the rail of the ship. “I worry about that one,” said Lariska. “He has not spoken a word since we left Tren Krom’s island, after the death of his friend Carapar.”

“Friend?” snorted Brutaka. “Barraki don’t have friends, just people they use – and Carapar was Takadox’s favorite puppet. Besides, don’t waste your worry on him – save it for us.” He pointed off the bow. “We’ve arrived.”

Looming out of the mist was an island of black sand and jagged rock, volcanic peaks and strange Rahi arcing and wheeling through the sky. Despite the bright light that played off the waters around it, the island seemed to be in perpetual shadow.

“Welcome to Artidax,” said Brutaka.

Vezon approached, chuckling. “Hope we survive our stay.”

Brutaka looked around at his team – a Barraki, half a Skakdi, a Makuta, a former queen of the Visorak, a Dark Hunter, and himself. “Well, if we don’t, who knows? The world might be better off without us.”

Brutaka and Spiriah, being the two most powerful team members, led the way to shore. As they trod on the ebon sands, all seemed quiet. “So you know nothing about the defenses here?” asked Brutaka.

“Only what Krika sometimes talked about. Ideas he had,” said Spiriah. “You realize this whole thing is a terrible idea.”

“What?”

“Freeing Miserix,” said Spiriah. “He can’t stop the Plan. All we will find here is an early death. Listen, we -- ”

What happened next was startlingly fast. The black sands began to swirl around Spiriah, forming a hand which grabbed the Makuta and started dragging him down. Brutaka grabbed Spiriah’s hand, calling to the others, “Help me!”

Lariska, Vezon and Roodaka rushed to his aid. Takadox hung back, occasionally glancing toward the ship as if contemplating escape. The pull of the sand was too strong and Spiriah’s mask had almost disappeared beneath it. Then Roodaka fired her Rhotuka launcher, the spinner striking the living sand and mutating the grains into a swarm of fireflyers. Unable to maintain its grip in this new form, it freed Spiriah. The Makuta crawled back onto the beach, cursing.

“I’m an idiot,” Brutaka said. “I should have realized – Krika rigged this place to sense the presence of a Makuta and react. He didn’t want Miserix escaping, or any other Brotherhood member finding him and finishing him off.”

“Then I would be insane to go any further,” said Spiriah. “I brought you here – you don’t need me anymore.”

“On the contrary,” said Lariska. “I think you would be very useful. Anyone ever hear of a stalking kinloka?”

Surprisingly, Vezon was the only one who nodded. When everyone turned to look at him, he shrugged. “Vezok. He saw lots of things, and since I came from him, I saw them too. Say, when we are done here, who’s up for killing him? I’ll even clean up after.”

Lariska turned back to Brutaka, ignoring their lunatic companion. “Kinloka are rodents, found in many places, among them Zakaz. When the Skakdi need to cross land that might be booby-trapped, they send the kinloka through first. The creatures set off the traps and the Skakdi can cross safely.”

“And the traps here are sensitive to Makuta,” said Roodaka, smiling. “I see, I see. And come to think of it, Spiriah is somewhat rodent-like.”

Spiriah, back on his feet, looked right at Brutaka. “No. Not even if you threw in the chance to eviscerate that Vortixx --”

“Watch your mouth,” Roodaka spat, aiming her launcher at him, “while you still have only one.”

Brutaka put his arm around Spiriah and led him away. “You’re not looking at the big picture here. When all this is over, the Brotherhood could still be a powerful creature, only without a head. It’s going to need a new leader... and the beings I work for will remember who helped them... and who didn’t. Trust me, they have long memories.”

It only took a few more minutes of whispered conversation before Spiriah turned back to the group and announced that he would be their guide to Artidax. He immediately set off inland, with the rest following. Lariska fell in beside Brutaka, saying, “You know full well he could never be leader of the Brotherhood.”

“Let him think he might get to be the head,” Brutaka replied. “It will distract him from the fact that he might well lose his own here.”

Their path took them right up to the slope of a volcano. A tunnel had been bored through the mountain at some point, the only way to directly traverse the island. Spiriah was striding on ahead when Vezon leapt in front of him, holding up his hands. Then he pointed downward, at a razor-thin vine stretched across the path. It led up to a pile of boulders poised precariously on the slope.

Spiriah stepped carefully over the vine, followed by the others, and went into the tunnel. It was only when they were already inside that Brutaka noticed someone was missing. “Where’s Takadox?”

Lariska turned. “There! Look out!”

Brutaka turned to see Takadox bringing his blade down on the vine. In the moment before an avalanche of rocks cut them off from the Barraki and trapped them in the tunnel, they all could see his evil smile.

Chapter 8

Brutaka pushed aside a pile of rubble and struggled to his feet. Around him, Spiriah and Roodaka were using shadow energy to blast themselves free. Vezon and Lariska were nowhere to be seen.

He glanced back toward the now blocked tunnel entrance. A few blasts of power would no doubt clear away the pile of rocks and stones, but Takadox would be long gone by now. There would be time to settle with him later.

“I’ve got him!”

Brutaka turned to see Lariska holding a squirming Vezon by the throat. “I caught him sneaking down a side tunnel,” the Dark Hunter said.

“Let us track down that traitor,” snarled Roodaka. “I want his shattered body beneath my heel.”

“We’re here to do a job,” Brutaka replied. “We keep moving. All of us,” he added, looking hard at Vezon.

The tunnel proved to be far more than a mere pathway. It opened upon a vast underground cavern spanned by a narrow bridge made of fibrous protodermis. Down below, the floor was littered with a massive tangle of what looked like dead branches intertwined with each other. Deep channels had been carved into the walls by lava flows over the centuries. Strange flying Rahi hung from the ceiling, their six eyes blinking slowly at the sight of intruders into their realm.

“Remind me not to let Makuta Krika arrange for my next pleasure trip,” muttered Spiriah.

“This whole island is volcanic,” said Brutaka. “Minor eruptions over the years, but nothing major. Tahu and Kopaka are supposed to have taken care of the problem. Otherwise, we would probably be flash fried by now.”

“No Carapar, no Takadox,” said Vezon in a sing-song voice. “Who will go next? Spiriah the Sullen? Brutaka the Boorish? Vezon the Vanquisher? Or Lariska --”

The Dark Hunter whipped out a dagger and flung it into the stone right at Vezon’s feet. The mad half-Skakdi turned to her, smiling, and said, “Or Lariska, the wise, wonderful, and gloriously homicidal.”

Brutaka led the way across the bridge. At the far side, light spilled through a narrow opening. The symbol of the Brotherhood of Makuta was seared into the stone beside that portal. Someone – maybe Krika, maybe Miserix – had marked their path, so long ago.

“What are we going to do with this legendary Makuta when we find him?” asked Roodaka. “What makes you think he will help the likes of you?”

“Miserix hates the Brotherhood for turning on him,” Brutaka replied. “He would ally with three Matoran and an Ussal crab if it would get him revenge on his fellow Makuta.”

“And so what will he be for you?” Roodaka pressed. “A general? A hero? A symbol around which to rally resistance to the Brotherhood?”

Brutaka shook his head. “Nothing quite so grand. He’ll be a weapon, like a Rhotuka launcher or a ghost blaster. And we’re going to aim him right at the Makuta fortress on Destral.”

Roodaka smiled. “And who, might I ask... are ‘we’?”

Brutaka smiled back, the grin of a Kavinika about to feast. “Now, now … what you don’t know won’t cut you in two and dump you off this bridge.”

“I hear something,” said Lariska. “Up ahead... it might be a voice... or the rumble of the volcano.”

“I hear something too,” said Vezon.

“Shut up,” replied Roodaka.

“And I see something as well,” Vezon continued. “But since you aren’t interested...”

“We’re not,” Roodaka snapped.

“Personally, I always find my comments and observations most interesting,” Vezon rambled on. “You haven’t truly lived until you have seen the world through the eyes of madness. Why, half the time I don’t know if what I see is what’s really there, or what I wish was there … or what I pray, I beg, I plead is not.”

“Why did we bring him again?” said Spiriah.

“He breaks up the monotony,” said Lariska.

“I’d like to break something much more satisfying,” hissed Roodaka. “I hear Skakdi make a most appealing sound when you snap them into pieces.”

“But, since you seem to have no interest,” Vezon continued, utterly disregarding his teammates’ comments. “Well, then, I won’t tell you that the floor is moving. You can find out on your own.”

“The floor is...?” Brutaka repeated. He looked down. Far below, the tangled growth of dead branches had indeed begun to shift. The reason why rapidly became clear: they weren’t branches at all, but the twisted limbs of thousands of crimson insects, now disentangling themselves from each other. Apparently, it was time to wake up and they were ready for their morning meal.

Swifter than anyone could have predicted, they began to swarm up the walls of the canyon on every side. In an instant, they had blocked the openings on both ends of the bridge. The surrounding rock was now gone, buried beneath a skittering sea of red and thousands of unblinking, predatory eyes.

“No, no, no,” said Vezon, shaking his head. “Too late to apologize. Much, much too late.”

Chapter 9

Brutaka scanned the cavern with narrowed eyes. The glowing eyes of the insects all around made it feel as if he were trapped in some lunatic starfield. Behind him, he could hear Vezon humming softly to himself, as if out for an afternoon stroll.

“Do we fight our way out of here?” asked Lariska, hand on the hilt of her dagger.

Brutaka’s answer was to turn to Spiriah. “Okay. You control Rahi. Make them clear a path.”

“On one condition,” said Spiriah. “Once I do, I go free. I turn right around and march out, take the boat – if Takadox hasn’t already – and leave. And I never see or hear from any of you, or anyone associated with you, again.”

“I wasn’t asking you,” replied Brutaka. “I was telling you.”

“I am a Makuta,” said Spiriah. “Disgraced, perhaps; a victim of jealousy and prejudice, most definitely. But I will not be dictated to by some obnoxious, insane --”

Brutaka hit Spiriah a solid blow in the mask, knocking the Makuta over the side of the narrow bridge. Spiriah caught on to the span, just barely, and hung in space.

“I think this is what they call ‘in no position to deal,’” said Brutaka. He triggered his mask power, opening a dimensional portal in space just below Spiriah’s feet. “If I move that opening just a little bit further toward you, you’ll find yourself in a dimension full of beings made of solid light. Know what they eat there? Shadow. You’ll be a food bank for them, Spiriah, but I have to warn you – they’re always hungry. And they don’t close their mouths when they chew.”

Spiriah said nothing. Instead, he reduced his density and floated up and away from Brutaka’s portal. Then he drifted back down to the bridge and turned solid once more. “I’ll do it,” he said. “Then I leave. I advise you not to try and stop me.”

The Makuta concentrated, triggering his power to control Rahi beasts. Nothing happened, other than restless stirring among the insects. After a few moments, Spiriah gave up in frustration. “They’re already under the control of a more powerful will. It must be Miserix.”

Brutaka gestured toward the wall of insect life that blocked the way they had come. “Then I guess you’re not leaving.” He turned to Lariska. “And we’re fighting. You stay back with Vezon. Roodaka, Spiriah and I will lead the way.”

On Brutaka’s signal, he and his two powerful allies unleashed their powers at the insects who blocked the passage way up ahead. As quickly as the crimson creatures fell, more came to replace them. Worse, the ones behind were now skittering across the bridge, closing in on Vezon and Lariska.

“I have an idea,” said Roodaka, summoning a Rhotuka disk into her launcher. She fired at the insects up ahead, the power of her disk mutating them into unrecognizable creatures. An instant later, the other insects fell upon the unfortunate victims of her attack. The mutated insects were dead in seconds, killed for being different than the rest of the species.

Seeing that her ploy had worked, Roodaka repeated the process, this time focusing on the insects blocking the end of the bridge. As the mutations took hold and their former allies turned on them, an opening appeared in the wall of living creatures. With a roar of triumph, she led a charge across the bridge and into the tunnel beyond. The team didn’t stop running until they were well away from the cavern.

“Are they following?” asked Brutaka.

“They don’t seem to be,” Lariska answered. “Maybe they don’t like to leave their nest.”

“”Or maybe they just know we have to go back out that way, so they can eat us then,” Vezon offered, cheerfully.

“Maybe there’s another way out up ahead,” said Brutaka.

“Or maybe we’ll get to like it here,” said Vezon. “A few grass mats, some cave drawings, the heads of my enemies mounted on the wall … it could be quite pleasant.”

“Brutaka!” Roodaka called from up ahead. “I think you had best see this.”

The team rushed through the tunnel to join Roodaka. She was standing at the tunnel’s end, looking out at another vast chamber. More specifically, she was looking at the largest occupant of the chamber, a massive dragon-like beast chained to the stone floor. All around it flew much smaller Rahi, darting and dodging the shadow hand that occasionally shot out from the creature’s chest.

“What … is that?” asked Lariska.

Brutaka shook his head in amazement. “Well, it’s about 40 feet tall, red and silver, with four legs, a tail, and a nasty disposition – and it’s who we’re here to rescue.”

“Miserix,” whispered Spiriah.

“All right, we can take him home,” said Vezon, “but don’t expect me to clean up after him.”

Chapter 10

Vezon looked from the massive, chained form of the dragon-like beast to his partners, then back at the dragon, then over to Brutaka. He opened his mouth to speak, but Brutaka cut him off.

“Don’t say it,” said Brutaka.

“We’re going to need --” Vezon began.

“A bigger boat. I know,” Brutaka said. “Anybody know what those... things... are flying all around?”

Small, winged creatures were indeed flitting all around the dragon. Now and then, one would let out a scream that shattered rock. “They’re called klakk,” said Makuta Spiriah. “Something Mutran created a long time back – their sonic scream is formidable. They must be meant as guardians.”

Brutaka frowned. Guardians, all right, but against whom? He knew the dragon was in fact Makuta Miserix, ex-leader of the Brotherhood. He had been ordered executed, but Makuta Krika had instead chained him up here on the island of Artidax. It was Brutaka’s job to rescue him so the Order of Mata Nui could use him against his former organization.

At that moment, Miserix suddenly took notice of them. His great eyes narrowed as he spoke and his voice rumbled like a distant avalanche. “Who... are... you?”

Brutaka started to say, “Friends,” then decided he didn’t really want to be considered a friend of that thing. “We’re here to free you,” he said instead. “Can you shapeshift to a smaller form?”

“Why would I wish to do that?” asked Miserix. “Do you know how many of these creatures I had to absorb to reach a size where their screams no longer pain me?”

“See, the size is a problem, your immenseness,” Vezon cut in. “We only have a small boat, hardly more than a raft, really, and if it sinks we have to swim. Personally, I am not big on swimming – some friends of mine went for a swim, I heard, and now they look like sea snakes, just a head and a spine. And I have no spine, so I would be just a head, and --”

Miserix’s eyes glowed red. A burst of laser vision struck Vezon, sending him tumbling backwards. “Gnat,” muttered the Makuta.

Turning to check on Vezon, Brutaka saw that Spiriah had backed way up into the shadows. Miserix noticed too and bellowed, “Tell that one to come forth.”

Spiriah took a reluctant step forward. At the sight of another Makuta, the dragon smiled. “Spiriah. I do remember you. When Teridax rose against me, you were one of the first to be by his side. I have so looked forward to meeting you again.” Brutaka tightened his grip on his weapon. He did not like Miserix’s tone at all.

“Do you know I have not seen one of my species since Krika left me here?” Miserix continued.

“We all meant to come,” Spiriah said hurriedly. “Teridax wouldn’t let us. We all knew we would benefit by your experience, your power, your very presence.”

“But you did not come,” rumbled Miserix. “So now I shall benefit from yours.”

A hand made of living shadow erupted from the dragon’s chest, grabbed Spiriah, and pulled him into Miserix’s body. There wasn’t even time for a scream.

Vezon, back on his feet, stopped dead when he saw the Makuta consumed. “I thought we were here to rescue him from captivity,” he whispered. “Not from that mid-day empty feeling.”

“You know, we could just leave you here to rot,” Brutaka said to Miserix. “Or wait for the next volcanic eruption to rain lava down on your oversized head. Or... you could have your chance to take revenge on your brothers. What’s it going to be?”

Miserix considered. Then he leaned forward as far as his chains would allow him and said, “Make your attempt, for what good it will do.”

“I have seen those kind of chains before,” said Lariska. “They grow and shrink with him. They feed on his own power and use it to hold him.”

Brutaka hefted his weapon. “Can they be broken?”

“Not without causing him great pain.”

Brutaka gave a grim smile. “I’ll cry tomorrow. Find me a weak link. Roodaka, we are going to need your help.”

The Vortixx had been silent since they had entered Miserix’s presence. Brutaka had no doubt she was planning something. But she dutifully stepped forward and stood beside him, her eyes never leaving the chained Makuta.

“There,” said Lariska, pointing to a segment of the chain that held Miserix’s right arm. “We concentrate our fire there.”

Brutaka and Roodaka took aim, he with his blade, she with her outstretched hand. Energy and shadow bolts struck the weak segment of chain, bathing it in a continuous stream of power. After several minutes, the substance of the chain began to flake off. After a few more, it began to crack. Then the link shattered to pieces. Miserix screamed, loud enough to crack the mountain itself.

The klakk reacted instantly, flying toward the rescue team and unleashing their sonic screams. Vezon and Lariska fought them off, while Brutaka used his blade to parry the streams of sound. Meanwhile, Miserix raised his arm tentatively. Seeing that it was indeed free of its bonds, he reached over with it and tore the other chain from the ground. This time, he did not scream, but only smiled.

The klakk were gaining ground now, driving the team back toward where the insects were still lurking. Miserix watched the battle for a moment in silence. Then he opened his mouth and unleashed a power scream that felled the klakk, along with Vezon and Lariska. Brutaka and Roodaka barely remained conscious. Crawling over, Brutaka checked on his two team members – both were still living.

“Now, then,” said Miserix. “Where is Teridax?”

Brutaka laughed. “And if I tell you, you have no reason to keep us alive. Gratitude is not high on the list of Makuta emotions. I’ll show you. But you are going to need to shrink down to make it out the way we came.”

“Your lack of imagination is disappointing,” said Miserix, in as close to good spirits as a Makuta ever got. He reared back and struck the side of the mountain with all his might, once, twice, again. The rock cracked and began to crumble. Miserix followed up with his fragmentation power, reducing the entire side of the volcano to shards of stone. Beyond it, Brutaka could see the sky and the sea.

“At last!” said Miserix. “After so many millennia – I am free!”

Before Brutaka’s startled eyes, the dragon grew wings. Then Miserix turned his crimson-scaled head to Brutaka and said, “Come. Show me where my enemy hides, so I may grind his armor to dust and feed on his energies.”

“No!” shouted Roodaka. “They want to lead you into a trap! Listen to me, I too am an enemy of the Brotherhood. Brutaka wants to use you, to sacrifice you as a pawn in a war against the Makuta. I want you for an ally!”

Miserix lowered his lead and leaned in so that his massive face was up against Roodaka’s. When he spoke, it was in a whisper. “Little one, I am Makuta Miserix. I am no one’s pawn. I am no one’s ally.” His next words came in a roar that drove Roodaka back into the rock wall. “And I am no one’s fool!!”

Brutaka watched, looking unimpressed. “Are you done?”

Miserix nodded slowly. “Let us go. I have a universe to rediscover.”

Brutaka loaded the stunned Roodaka and the now semi-conscious Lariska and Vezon onto the dragon’s back. Then he climbed on himself. Miserix unfurled his wings and stepped out into the open air. They soared high above the island, pausing only long enough for Miserix to make a muttered vow to come back and destroy the place one day. Brutaka noted that the team’s boat was gone – Takadox had gotten away after all, then.

Let him run. It doesn’t matter, thought Brutaka. A storm is coming to this universe, and when it hits, there will be nowhere for anyone to hide.

Miserix spread his wings and turned toward the north, carrying his passengers into the unknown.

The End

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

galaxies: what are three things you want to do before you die?Twisted Family and Pirate Au? Please?

(All right small side note for those who come across this, twisted Family au is an au set on where black hat and flug were in a relationship but Black Hat kept treating Flug like trash and so one day Flug tries to leave, Hat can't handle that Flug would try to leave him, he snaps like mentality wise.

Turns Flug into a life size marionette.

(usually dressed but this was for me to figure out a basic design for him)

He takes in abandoned children or sometimes adults and turns them into puppets, saying they're one happy family now.)

Black Hat pulled at the lace gloves embroidered with finely stitched top hats, placing them beside his tea cup, after all he did not want to ruin them with the wood varnish he was about to use.

Acylius’s head was tilted to the side, cheek on his shoulder.

“Amadeus…please…may I have some freedom to move? It would make it easier to apply the varnish would it not?”

Black hat paused, considering his words, nodding he gave him enough free movement to lift his head at the very least.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh darling, please call me Amadeus or Amy, I miss the fondness in your voice sometimes.”

The eldericht was sweet in his tone, to anyone just passing by you would think it was natural…but upon closer inspection you could see those hints, feel that unhinged ring in his voice.

Black Hat stroked his marionettes face, finger tips caressing over smooth wood, smiling as his doctor leaned into his touch.

“Did you get my favourite varnish Amy?”

Amadeus’s ears perked under his hat, which now donned a long pink mourning ribbon with a bow at the back, watching as Acylius shifted his jaw into a smile, wood tapping as the joints of the doctors ears shifted.

“Of course sweetheart, only the best for you!”

Black Hat replied affectionately as he dipped the cloth into the varnish only to be interrupted but Acylius clearing his throat

“Amadeus , do not forget our guest asked a question.”

“Ah yes, our new addition, well now let’s see…”

Black Hat began while applying smooth strokes over his lover’s cheeks.

“I would love to marry Acylius, but according to him we haven’t quite reached that point just yet…maybe have a few more children, I am trying to decide if we should go natural or wood shop it and well when one are two are true that will be enough for me.”

The demon was so happy and Acylius was practically purring as his wooden body was getting treated to an expensive…you had to wonder was it akin to a sponge bath with how Black Hat tended to him.

“Little one I will have to apply this to you next, after all you are new to our family and I should make sure you are properly treated.”

Amadeus chirped.

You only stay silent, you cannot move, unable to speak now, eyes unblinking, frozen in place, body conforming , changing to be another of the many child like puppets you see and realise are all watching you…were they ever children to begin with…were they once a child…faces become familiar heroes and villains that also once were can be seen there…and for one moment you can see past the illusion that made this place look so beautiful, so perfect…

The reality is , the manor is derelict , dusty, broken and strung with cobwebs, Hat’s dress is tattered and the doctor…god…the marionette is full of holes as insects scuttle across his face and into an empty wooden eye socket, perhaps once he’d been alive and if he was still…

“Time to sleep, baby doll.”

Hat whispers and once again you see the lie, lush rich and beautiful colours, full of such life…perhaps what you saw was a nightmare crafted by Black Hat to torment you…

Or was it?

Pirate Au answer

Acylius folded his arms on the edge of the tank, tail splashing lightly , water lapping gently as he moved.

Black Hat was at his desk going through pages of a book his merman had told him of, however he keeps a watchful eye on you to make sure you are up to no business he might disapprove of.

“So you want to know what three things I want to do before I die huh?”

Acylius smiled resting his cheek on his arm, glancing over at the Pirate king, ear fins flicking, oh he was so clearly in love it was bloody adorable, even if he didn’t say it out loud you could see it for yourself.

“Well one is to be free of White Hat…Amadeus I believe is working on that though so I suppose I am half way there on that one.”

Black turned a page without looking up

“Damn right, no self righteous brother of mine will get to lay a hand on Flug.”

You watch in awe as the merman’s scales turn from the iridescent likeness of a peacocks to hues of pink and yellow with glowing sky blue fins

You can't help but smile, awww he's blushing.

"Let's see, what else, ah yes another thing would be to spend more than one day on land every twenty ninth of February, it can really make keeping time quite difficult and sometimes one can be so busy the opportunity is missed.”

Black Hat listened to Acylius talking, he’d not actually turned his page for five minutes…his merman could transform once every four years?

That meant…oh no…

Pulling open his desk drawer, he recalled someone he’d once seen, a face human in appearance, similar to the merman’s, features hauntingly beautiful only , Flugs were far finer, far more beautiful…but what if…they were one in the same.

Setting the sketch on the desk, remembering how he’d paid heed only to their title and not their name…picking up a pencil that sat in the skull of the last crew man that had dared defy him he added ear fins and those scars, those delicate silver lines on white marble…

He stared at it , it was him, it was Acylius, looking up he found cold blue eyes staring back, he in his nonchalant manner had handed Thaddeus the Ocean and dethroned a king…if it were anyone else he would not care…but he’d done this to Flug, his Flug, was karma finally catching up to him, would the Great and Powerful Black Hat be torn down by the simple act of rejection…

Perhaps, he felt, perhaps he deserved it.

“You do not need to be a land walker to be you Flug, don’t do an Ariel she soon found herself sick for the sea and fell deep into depression when her Father had not even given her the choice to decide when she could go back to her home.”

“Who said I wanted to be human, that would be crazy, they’re all dreadful messes though there are the few exceptional such as Demencia and 505.”

Acylius raised a brow and splashed him a smirk forming on his face

“Oh I see, someone is finally putting the pieces together, stop worrying you egotistical buffoon, if I cared about being king I would have bitched about it already, true I was a caring king who took care of his subjects but they quickly changed sides when an Eldericht came to take the throne.”

He settled on the sand, shoulder to the glass and sighing, you and Hat still being perfectly able to hear him despite his being under water

“How quick they were to abandon me…fuck them, I chose to talk instead of devouring humans to be always at my full power to show I wanted peace between worlds, they wanted destruction…however…”

He looked at you with the saddest eyes and Hat felt a twist in his chest

“There were those like me, deep sea in their breed, most of them were scattered for being devoted to me, Thaddeus and his soldiers hunted them out, slaughtering them to near extinction, oh they certainly got the monster they wanted and I believe perhaps they even regret their fickle loyalty.

You ask him softly

“What is the third thing?”

“Save what little of the deep sea merfolk that still remain.”

[dopescotlandwarrior]

Sinners & Saints-Chapter 14

               A special thanks to @statell​ for all your help

Previous chapters at AO3

Chapter Fourteen

The tender ride to the island had Claire’s last nerve in shreds. She was very afraid of having her chip taken out today, even though Jamie already tested the safety of the procedure the day before. The four of them split up at the front of the clinic, Darius and Maia would hang out at the back door of the facility just in case the good doctor made a run for it.

Jamie held Claire’s hand and scowled at the nurse during check-in. The doctor saw them and abruptly turned around but was soon escorted back by Darius. The nurse was decidedly unfriendly today which added another layer of stress to the procedure. Jamie just wanted it over with and pulled Claire to the treatment room when they were called.

The doctor thankfully started with a shot of Valium that put Claire out completely. It was a little unnerving. Claire was not a rambunctious mover when she wasn’t sedated, but this complete stop even unnerved the doctor, so he put a monitor on her heart. Jamie held a glass jar out for the doctor to drop the bloody implant into before closing the incision. He knew women had a thing about their upper arms looking nice, so he watched every stitch closely.

Jamie handed the doctor ten one-hundred-dollar bills and they left as soon as Jamie could wake her up. Claire smiled continuously and said hello to everyone they passed. She stopped to pet a lady’s purse and asked what its name was. Jamie was struggling to keep her walking in a straight line and if he stopped she would go off in another direction, so it took multiple attempts to call Darius.

Once Claire was in the tender, he searched for Darius and Maia, hoping they would hurry. The inebriated Sassenach needed to be locked in her room until the Valium wore off. Everything almost went south getting her onto the aft deck when she fell backward. Jamie was able to catch her before she slipped into the ocean. He was so rattled, he put Claire to bed and watched her from a nearby chair. Maia came in with a tray of food and agreed to sit with her so Jamie could get his sketch pad. He was intrigued by the locals, the tone of their skin, their gestures, and facial expressions. While Claire slept, Jamie roughed in the scene he wanted to paint and the remainder of the day was uneventful.

Jamie had given up hope that Claire would wake up that day. He wanted to talk about Danny and the extraordinary things she said and knew about his paintings, even those not done yet. It would have to wait until tomorrow he decided and slid his sketchbook into his bed table.

Claire’s eyeballs peeked out from under their lids at first light. She could hear the rhythmic breathing of her husband next to her, so she knew it was very early and after almost twenty-four hours of sleeping, she needed to get up. Adso had other ideas and did nothing but purr when she stroked him.

Sipping delicious coffee on the foredeck, the sun energized her to feel more alive by the minute. There was movement on Danny’s yacht and she watched the peculiar crewman standing on the foredeck holding a flat of flowers like a statue. How odd, she thought, until she saw Danny’s head pop up and take a handful of young Petunias before dropping out of sight again. She forced herself to stop looking and jumped at the vibrating cell phone next to her. Javier was the only person who called so she picked it up and said his name.

“Javier!”

“No darling, it’s Danny, do you remember giving me this number? If not, I’m sorry to intrude. How are you on this beautiful morning?”

“I feel amazing today, and you?”

“Very well indeed, but I could use a hand with these young plants if you have a moment.” She chuckled, “I apologize for being unacceptably straight forward, dear, please forgive me.”

“No, no, I would love to help, plant flowers? On your boat? I love gardening but never considered doing on a boat. Yes! I would love to help you, Danny. I see your tender is out, can someone come and get me in ten minutes?”

Claire left a note for Jamie and got into the tender waiting for her at the aft deck. She was excited to see Danny again and planting small flowers, however weird that was on a boat, was the perfect activity for her energized morning.

Danny smiled brightly when Claire walked onto her deck, removing her gloves to shake her hand warmly. The tender engines screamed away until it was clear of the yacht, then the crewman pulled the steering wheel harshly for a nautical-donut that launched the young man sideways, splashing down about twenty-feet from the tender.

“Oh my God!”

Danny held her arm before she could jump overboard and rescue the man. “Don’t worry about the cub my dear, he has a racer’s heart and can’t help himself. I had the tender engine modified so when someone let’s go of the throttle it stops moving. He’s fine,” she giggled. “Let me show you our chore for this morning.”

Claire followed Danny along the side deck to the other end of the enormous yacht and stepped down to the foredeck. She watched her step descending the six steps and noticed greenery around her feet and heard the most amazing music. Once on the deck, she looked around at the beautiful garden Danny had created. There were large trees, many bushes, vines, trellis clinging roses, a proper rose garden, and planters overflowing with pansies in every color that lent their sweet smell to the air.

“This is amazing, Danny! It is the last thing I would expect on a boat. It is beautiful but what happens during a storm?”

“If we can’t outrun it the planters are wheeled into a garage beyond that door. You just lift a bit on the end of the planter and the wheels pop out.”

“Oh! That is so clever! Well, I’m ready, where do I start planting?”

Danny showed her an empty planter and they discussed what levels and colors should be included then Claire got to work. When Danny came to check on her a bit later, the planter was done. She and Danny took turns watering the expansive deck full of flowers and talked as they worked.

“Have you always loved to sale or yacht?”

“No, I bought this yacht to get away from my son who wants to put me in a home. Turns out I really like the freedom, the people, and my crew.” She regarded Claire for several minutes and finally spoke to her about the joys of being nosy.

“My dear, I was raised strictly, trained in social graces at the best boarding schools, I was a debutante, and my family is at the top of the social food chain so to speak. I caught a fever in my early thirties that killed my husband and put me into a coma for a month. I had a lot of time to think before I woke up and I was a changed woman from then on. The first change was I spoke my truth, whatever that was. Let me demonstrate.”

Claire was delighted with her perky and fun attitude and listened closely.

“You, my dear, might spend the entire time asking socially acceptable questions and never get an answer to the question that burns in your mind. Give it a try, what do you want to ask me?

Claire watched Danny encourage her to speak up and she finally blurted out “how can you afford this boat and live-in crew? Oh God, it’s none of my business Danny, please forgive me!”

Danny stood straight and held her head high, “nonsense! When I tell you the answer, we will be friends and I want to be your friend so come inside, out of the sun for some refreshment while I explain.”

Claire pulled off her deck shoes and looked up as a glass wall opened to the formal saloon. She was struck dumb as her eyes took in the exquisite furniture and art in the massive room. There was a double grand staircase that went up to the second floor of living space and the boat seemed to go on for a mile. She was barely aware of Danny talking to her until she felt her hand slip through her elbow, leading her through the saloon.

“I can see that you like my floating home, and now there are two burning questions, are there not?”

“What…what does the rest look like?”

Danny chuckled and led Claire on a tour of luxury and abundance she didn’t know existed. The artwork was exceptional and they chatted about several of the artists. The formal dining room could serve twenty-four people comfortably with another dining room for everyday use. The floor to ceiling windows provided a stunning view with glass doors spaced to provide fresh air and an exit to the side deck. Beyond the double staircase were Danny’s expansive office, sitting room, private atrium, and bathrooms as big as Claire’s bedroom. All the flooring was Italian marble that also lined the walls of the shower, which you could fit a basketball team in.

“I don’t stay in these rooms, too big. I live in one of the staterooms and it’s just right for me.”

“What? Why? My God Danny, this is so beautiful it’s making me emotional.”

Danny showed Claire the private deck with a hot tub, full bar, outdoor shower, and lounges big enough for two. They continued the tour to the upper decks, four of them, a large movie theater, an upper saloon that was a bit more casual with flatscreen televisions that appeared when a button was pushed, a bar that looked fully stocked, and a foredeck with formal dining. Another level was dedicated to a full-sized gym with all the equipment, free weights, benches, a huge screen for watching aerobic videos, two saunas, a huge hot jacuzzi, and a running track that circled the enormous room.

They stepped into an elevator made of glass and went down to the lower deck with a large swimming pool and waterfall. The glass wall in front of the pool opened completely to the aft deck that was set up like a beach party with two bars, outside showers, lounges, and a closet full of towels. Danny pulled Claire’s hand and they were somehow back on the main deck walking through the expansive galley that included four of every major appliance needed for entertaining, four commercial refrigerators, freezers, and dishwashers, a two-hundred bottle wine cellar, and huge tables for food preparation.

Claire was in luxury overload and felt sad she would forget half of what she had seen.

“I wonder if you would accompany me for lunch and the second question you asked?”

Claire was delighted to spend more time with a woman she was really starting to like. Danny led her out to yet another private deck off the galley that was smaller and more intimate with a small table for two already made up for lunch. She picked up the phone and spoke to someone about a sore ankle, asking questions that made Claire feel she was really concerned about the person on the other end. Then she ordered avocado toast and tuna stuffed tomatoes with several side dishes and iced tea. Claire was overwhelmed by the experience and the calming water around the deck, about thirty feet down she guessed. When the food came, a muscular young man brought the plates stacked carefully up and down his forearms which were transferred to the table with no apparent effort. He limped away.

“You are very quiet dear Claire. Oh, you’re starving, poor thing, I don’t imagine you had much to eat yesterday.”

Claire’s head jerked up to look at Danny, smiling at her cheeks stuffed with food. How would she know about no eating as she slept yesterday away?

“Well, you eat while I tell you who I am and maybe what I hope to be to you sweet girl.”

“My birth name is Sepora Cornelius Meyer. My grandfather immigrated to America from Poland and worked in a small grocery until he learned to speak English. He purchased the store eventually, but I digress. Everything my grandfather touched turned to gold and he reinvested every dime he made in oil, real estate, and steel. The short version is he became rich and celebrated before he died, leaving a son to take his place, my father.”

The young muscular man came out with plates of cheese and fresh vegetables that were bite-sized. While Claire crunched on carrots she looked to Danny with anticipation.

“Things were different then. The household adopted the opinions of the father and never questioned. They had more money than could ever be spent but an idle life was not allowed, so my father worked, starting at the bottom, learning the business of steel, oil, and real estate. He was quite a man, my hero, never to be replaced.”

Claire waited and crunched celery while Danny took several tiny bites of her avocado toast.

“Before my brother died, poor Alfred, my life was positively glorious! Boarding school in France and Sweden, summers in various countries with my friends, and beautiful parties during the social season where we could be in the same room with boys our age. It was such fun. When we buried Alfred, all that changed. No more school, no more summers away, and parties became a new kind of classroom where I would learn from watching the men. I didn’t like it one bit so I stuck my nose in the air through the first season and won myself a stiff neck and a cross father, more determined to ruin my life.”

“What took the place of school?”

“I spent dreadfully long hours reading communications from my father to other companies, banks, businessmen, and political people. When the steelworkers refused to let me take an active role on the production floor my father set up a small desk and chair and that is where I read stacks of documents. When I could finally wash at the end of the day, I pretended I couldn’t hear my mother saying I was now deaf from the ungodly noise of the production floor. She smiled and told me to set the table when my hearing came back or none of us would eat. I recovered quickly.”

“Did it ever get more tolerable for you?”

“Father planted fake letters, several of them during my second year leaning the business. Brazen mistakes in accounting, materials, even which political party he supported. I missed them all because I was daydreaming of lovely parties or who I would marry. Father became distant and terribly unhappy and one night I heard him talking to mother about his shame over not having a qualified heir to lead the business. He was so sad and it broke my heart hearing his defeated voice. It took about a minute to realize I was an utter failure to the most important man in my life.”

“Oh, Danny, how could you know how important it was for you to learn?”

“He and mother both told me and I didn’t listen, until that night. After that, he would hand me a stack of documents and I ran back to his office for more, asking questions about certain decisions and correcting the math where I found mistakes. It took several days to convince him, but soon I was waiting for him to come down the stairs for our walk to the office and I pumped him with questions along the way. It seemed like he grew three inches but it was the weight of defeat getting off of his back, allowing him to stand straight and proud, beaming his smile to the world. I was never so happy, or relieved, to know I wasn’t a failure in his eyes. And that’s all there is.”

“What? How old were you when you took over? Did your family keep all three businesses? How did you survive the depression? What was it like to be the leader of that kind of fortune? What …”

Danny smiled at Claire and her eyes twinkled. “I would love to tell you more after we discuss my coma.”

“What?”

“I had become my father when I fell ill. My loving husband had succumbed to the illness and I didn’t know it for over a month as I was deep inside myself. I could see how I distanced myself from real life to free my mind for running the business and such. When I woke up I had a new burden to suffer because I could see things in people. Their happiness, sorrow, who they loved, and who they were deceiving. It was like living in a nightmare that never ended. Young people from the best families would shake my hand and I would see their hands around someone’s throat, choking the life out of them. It felt like I had gone insane, especially when my mother had me committed and took over the raising of my son.”

“Good God.”

“You are feeling my pain at the moment because you are an empath, dear Claire, and those that confide in you feel they are truly understood for the first time. It is a rare quality.”

“I think everyone feels the way I do.”

“Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

Claire heard a loud whistle and looked across the water finding Jamie and Darius standing in the tender holding spears up with two large fish impaled. She smiled and clapped a bit in the air, suddenly wanting to wrap herself around her husband.

“Thank you for spending time with me today, Claire. I hope to see you again, but it is time for me to rest. The cub has a boat race later and I will need my strength to endure it.”

Danny walked Claire to the aft deck and was truly surprised when Claire hugged her, thanking her for everything. Jamie helped her into the tender and she waved to her new friend who watched them smiling, until she disappeared into her own boat.

Jamie, Darius, and Maia, were asking about Claire’s morning making her uncomfortable with keeping Danny’s confidence about all she told her. She finally went to her room and drew a bath with bubbles to idle away part of the day.

“Everything alright, love?”

“No.” She looked at Jamie’s handsome face, “I miss you, although I don’t know how that could be.”

“I do, because I miss you too Sassenach. I came to ask you to go to the island with me today. I want to take some pictures of the five lads that will be in the painting. After that, we can play, have dinner, or drinks. But it is a date so look your best, like you do right now, mo chridhe.”

“What, here in the bath?”

“No, that wouldn’t be right unless we stayed right here.”

Jamie smiled and tried to grab her getting a wet sponge in the face for his efforts. Claire pulled the plug and stepped into the shower so Jamie could wash her hair.

When he came back an hour later, Claire was sitting on the deck in a pretty yellow dress that reminded him of something. She had straightened her hair and wore makeup to add the exotic dimension to her eyes. He slid his arms around her waist and asked if she was ready to go.

Once on the island, it wasn’t hard to find the five boys that hung out together. Jamie explained he was painting a picture and they were in it which caused quite a ripple in the calm of the afternoon.

Jamie took several pictures of each of them, close up of the face, one showing some mannerism, the other a body shot. He showed them and they laughed. Once Jamie sat down to sketch, Claire called them to her and when they realized how friendly, and pretty she was, they showed off for her trying to outdo the others. The sun was shining off her hair and shoulders and her smile was like a beacon on her tanned face. Jamie laughed at the playfulness of the boys he guessed to be fourteen to eighteen. Gentle, beautiful boys who had taken over his creative mind. Jamie packed up his paper and tools and they bid the boys goodbye to wander around town.

Jamie could see Claire’s shoulders getting red in the sun and pulled her into a dress shop that had a large section of hats, which he brought to her, five at a time. He chose a wide-brimmed hat and the shop owner was happy to wrap a yellow ribbon around it, tied in the back with the extra length hanging off the brim. They laughed and stole kisses and wandered aimlessly until it was time to find a restaurant and gorge themselves on local cuisine and whisky. Jamie slipped an arm around Claire when they left. If they had been more aware of the people around them, they might have noticed the stares, but they were in their own world.

Claire pulled her shoes off when they reached the sand. Jamie waited to be alone with her on the beach because the full moon provided all the light he would need.

“Sassenach, I have something for you.” He pulled her hand and she turned around with her tipsy smile and sparkling eyes. “God, your beautiful.”

“Do I get some sort of prize for something awesome I did?”

“Something like that.” He pulled a tiny box from his pocket and handed it to her.

She looked excited until she pulled the box open and her eyes fell on the diamond inside. She could not pull her eyes away from it.

“We can take it back and get something you like better. Just put it on, one time, and then decide.”

She handed him the box and never took her eyes off the ring. Offering her outstretched hand she watched him push it onto her finger, and then he pulled her to his mouth for a sweet kiss.

“Thank you, Jamie,” she whispered.

“Your welcome, love.”

Once in the tender, they moved slowly to the yacht, careful to keep the engine quiet as they passed boats and yachts with people sleeping inside. Claire moved to the floor of the tender and leaned against the inflated side and dropped her head back. She was looking up at the moon, directly above her, feeling deliciously happy, slightly buzzed, and ran her hand down her burning nipple. Jamie watched her tipsy arousal and wanted her naked under the moonlight.

When the motor shut off, she looked at him like he was all she needed for the rest of her life. Jamie crept toward her and pulled off his shirt and shorts. He wanted her to remember this night. The dress came off, as did the tiny thong she wore and he pulled her leg up and over the inflated side of the tender. He pushed into her body placing greedy kisses on her face and neck. He wanted it to last but seeing his naked wife and the way her breasts bounced with every thrust was his undoing. He couldn’t help himself, he let it go when her orgasm started and pumped his warm love into her body while she clung to him.

They laid in each other's arms and talked quietly, about love and what was ahead.

“Jamie, I want to buy a new tender. This is like an inflatable raft, so I suppose the previous owner had little use for it. It doesn’t feel safe, but it was a marvelous bouncy thing to make love on.”

“Of course, Sassenach.”

Jamie raised up on an elbow and looked around the tender in all directions. He pulled Claire up with a worried look and helped her dress before getting them back to the yacht. He held Claire with one arm and drove the tender with the other.

“Did you just turn completely around?”

“That I did Sassenach. Lay against me and rest, we’re almost home.”

When Jamie turned again she started giggling. “Sweetheart, are we lost?”

The motor started to sputter and lurch as the last of the gas was consumed. Claire could not stop giggling which calmed Jamie more than she would ever know. Claire dropped to the soft bottom of the tender and held her arms out to him.

“Come here, my darling man, and rest under the stars with me.”

Once she had twisted her arms and legs with his and laid against his chest, Jamie smiled at the moon and decided to relax. When they were dropping into sleep a huge noise woke them up and they clung to each other.

“What the fuck was that, Jamie?”

“It’s gone love, whatever it was. Rest now.”

Claire wasn’t relaxed and buzzed anymore, she was panting with fright and suddenly felt something very large push against her from under the water. Before she could say anything the horrendously loud noise was back and slimy cold water rained down on them.

“Jesus Christ, Jamie, what is that?”

Jamie suspected it was a whale that surfaced near them but had not formed a word before he felt something bump the tender. Claire started screaming as the bump came again, harder this time. Jamie pulled out his cell phone and prayed Darius would answer.

“Darius, thank God. We have a bit of a problem here.”

Something under the surface pushed on the tender again and kept pushing it until they were spinning around clinging to each other. Claire was screaming for all she was worth, and Darius was trying to sound calm for both of them.

“Do you see any lights, anywhere?”

“No, Claire sweetheart please don’t scream.”

“Do you have a flashlight? If you point it at whatever is beneath…”

“No.”

They were spinning in the tender pushed by something massive under the surface. Darius was running down the stairs as fast as his legs could go, worried they had drifted into the shipping lanes where they would never be seen before a gigantic cargo ship plowed over them, dragging them underneath it.

“Darius searched the water and saw nothing. “Jamie look up and tell me if you can see…”

“The sky is full of clouds now Darius, I can see nothing, it’s pitch black out here and something under the water is pushing us in circles. We need help!”

Darius noticed the lights coming on all over Danny’s boat and two bright searchlights swept the water for as far as he could see. He heard a tender approach and jumped in pointing a direction for the crewman to go. He had his phone on speaker and the young man was getting rattled by Claire screaming. He moved away from the throttle and told Darius to drive.

Claire was screaming the boat was going to tip over and Darius did his best to calm them down.

“Jamie! Hold onto Claire really tight and ask her to stop screaming, I’m in Danny’s tender and I’m coming to get you!”

When it was quiet Darius took a deep breath and played the only card that might save them.

“Be calm and don’t blow this, my friend. There is a flare gun in the water-tight compartment under the steering whflareIt is the only chance I have of finding you so ask Claire to sit perfectly still, take aim at the sky directly above you, and fire.”

A minute later the crewman pointed to a brilliant purple streak climbing into the sky, in the other direction.

“Did you see the flair from the water level?” The boy shook his head no, which meant they were very far away and Darius had only seconds before the flair extinguished.

“Sit down!”

Darius pulled back on the throttle and the dual engine tender launched in the direction of the flair. He noticed both searchlights were now directed at the ocean under the flair and hoped they could see the lights and know help was on the way.

Talking at that speed was impossible because the wind snatched your words away. Darius dropped the speed enough to tell the crewman to keep sight of the flair and then watch the smoke if it went out, then tap his leg when they were close. The tender jerked alive again, like a bullet shooting across the water. Darius was feeling frantic when the boy tapped his leg and he pulled up on the throttle. It was black as pitch above and below them and he knew his friends must be terrified. The boy put something in his hand, it was a flare gun!

“Holy shit, you just saved the day my man!”

“Jamie, are you there?”

“Well, I was about to hang up but decided to stay on a little longer,” said sarcastically.

“We have flairs, shooting one now, watch it for my direction.”

The bright red flair went shooting to the heavens. “Starboard, maybe half a mile.”

The crewman found an emergency box stored inside the bench seat at the back of the tender. There was a light that plugged into the battery port and it almost blinded them both. He held it high above his head and Darius shot another flair.

“Talk to me brother!”

“Portside, same distance.”

“What?!”

“We aren’t spinning anymore, it’s pushing us, a bit rough I might add.”

Darius could not wait. They had to take a risk if they were going to find them before the boat sank from something underneath.

“Your name.”

“Ethan, sir.”

“I’m Darius. It’s only right I know your name before risking your life. How do you feel about that..Ethan?”

“It’s what I came for, sir.”

“Perfect.”

Darius aimed the light a foot above the water and about 500 yards ahead. Once Ethan took the light, Darius pulled back on the throttle and kept his eyes glued to the direct path ahead.

Claire was on the edge of sanity after being bumped, spun, and pushed, by something large underneath the little tender. She couldn’t see anything in the dark black night except maybe a two-foot space that was lit by Jamie’s phone. She watched that space while Jamie talked to Darius and when an unexpected shape came up out of the water, caught by the dim light, Claire’s scream shattered the night and she fainted.

Jamie looked up at a large head shaped like a torpedo with an eye that regarded him before slipping back under the water. He held Claire on his lap and patted her cheek, begging her to wake up. Jamie was aware of another flare shot into the sky and realized he heard the gun go off this time.

“Darius! You’re close! Starboard and close!”

“Can you see my light, Jamie?”

Suddenly, there it was, like a hand reaching through the dark night to save them. He watched it until the white teeth of Darius’s smile materialized. Claire was rubbing her eyes and crying, waving at Darius in her filthy yellow dress.

Jamie pulled her to him, “thank Christ.” He reached for the rope and tied it tightly to the tow ring at the front of the tender. Darius heard the song of the Humpback whales in the distance and smiled at Claire.

“There’s your tormentor. Probably a female with a calf who had a bit of fun playing with the tender.”

Her ghostly white face peeked out from Jamie’s chest and he could see her shaking and teeth chattering. Jamie asked if she wanted to ride back on Danny’s boat. She moved to the side of her boat and looked down at the water before launching back into Jamie’s arms.

Darius slowly turned Danny’s tender around and moved the boat forward very slowly until the rope was taught and they were pulling the other boat. He turned toward them and asked them to lay on the floor of the tender and hold onto something. They were right in the middle of a shipping lane and Darius wanted to get them out of there pronto. He told Ethan to watch for bodies flying out and picked up speed gradually keeping the tow rope taught. Soon they were flying across the water until he gradually slowed down when the yachts were in view. Darius circled the boats twice, letting his wake provide resistance to slow the towed tender. Danny was waiting on Claire’s boat with Maia and helped bring Claire on board with teeth chattering and pasty white skin. The women helped her into bed and covered her with a quilt.

Danny sat next to her and pushed her hair out of her eyes. “I can’t imagine how terrifying that was for you. Luckily, your man is strong as an ox and would have beaten the sea thing off to save you.” Danny’s voice was soft and caring and Claire was so grateful for her help. Jamie is coming to warm you up and I hope you rest tonight dear. Goodnight.

Jamie and Darius thanked Danny repeatedly, not finding the right words to convey she had saved them tonight. Danny looked at Darius with a sleepy smile.

“You are rather good at what you do, don’t ever doubt that Darius. I saw your brave heart tonight and felt your relief when you found them. Quite extraordinary. Goodnight.

“Thank you for everything tonight ma’am.”

Darius helped Danny into her tender and watched until she was safely on board, the tender was resting in the garage, and the lights flicked off one section at a time. He knew the chance of finding them in time was zero without a fast boat and he felt the gratitude down to his toes.

Small arms circled his waist and he looked down at the incomparable Maia with her head tilted and her chin raised in a healthy come fuck me pose that threatened his very sanity. She would pull him back to earth and make him right again. He gave himself over to her.

[ronninoir]

Can I Steal You For A Second Chapter 34

Summary: Adrien is forced to participate in a new dating show, but becomes more excited when Ladybug says she’ll participate as her civilian self.

AKA: AU where Adrien doesn’t know Marinette, the superheroes are 22 and Gabriel is mean and ruthless but not Hawkmoth.

Read on AO3

Start from the beginning Chp 1 on AO3

The jump to the mansion was exhilarating. Chat had forgotten how much freedom he felt while flying across the rooftops, especially with how trapped he’d been these past four days. Chat inadvertently flinched when he thought of all that he’d done since the last rose ceremony.

The producers kept pressuring him to have dates and have Lucie meet his dad, but he couldn’t focus on anything besides the task at hand. He met with teams of lawyers, scoured through paperwork and legal documents relating to the show (and in the process he found out how much Chris Harrison was making... damn.) and anything else that could give him an edge over his father. Thankfully, he had it in with various employees at his father’s company, a plus side of being the nice-Agreste, and kept Gabriel busy and unaware of what Adrien was going through.

But Adrien had had enough. He needed a break, a breath of fresh air that wasn’t just sitting down to eat. He needed to see Marinette, and it was a need that he couldn’t resist.

That’s why, as Chat, of course, Adrien was running across the rooftops of Paris trying to remember which room Marinette slept in. Thankfully, Plagg remembered from the night of The Task and gently guided him towards the right window. Once he pushed open the window, however, he learned that Plagg’s guidance wasn’t necessary. Marinette was wide awake, staring at the window as if she had been expecting him. He dropped his transformation as soon as their eyes met and went to sit next to her on the bed, while Plagg joined Tikki off in the corner.

“Why are you sitting here with the lights off?” Adrien blurted, feeling the pressure of the silence and needing to break it.

Marinette, who’s gaze was locked on her lap, gave a small smile before responding, “Waiting for you, Chaton. I had a feeling you would come tonight.”

Adrien gave a small smile and scooted closer to her so he could grab her hand. She twined his fingers with hers and he was able to appreciate how well they fit together. “Why so somber?”

Marinette sighed, but still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You know why. Just get it over with, okay?”

Adrien blanched and glanced around the room for some sort of clue for what she was talking about. “What am I supposed to be doing?” He asked quietly, reaching out to stroke her cheek, but Marinette turned away.

“I figured it out, okay? It’s been four days since the rose ceremony and nothing has happened. The producers have been whispering and prepping Lucie and completely ignoring me. I put the pieces together, and the only conclusion I came up with is that we’ve reached the end. Your dad won and I’m being forced out of the show.” She let out a shaky breath and finally turned to look at him head on. “I’m sorry you couldn’t find any leverage, or anything to blackmail your dad with, but at least you tried.” Marinette smiled a smile that was almost a grimace.

But Adrien had stopped listening.

“Marinette you’re brilliant!” He said confidently, reaching over to kiss her. When he pulled away, Marinette just looked stunned. And a little hurt.

“Why do you sound so excited about that?” She asked in a small voice, but Adrien was already explaining his line of thinking to a newly curious Plagg and Tikki.

“You see, we’ve been going about this the wrong way. I should have known that Father is too organized about his formalities to leave any loopholes in the paperwork. I’ve been trying to work through this the legal way. What we’ve been needing is the illegal.” 

Marinette stood up then, and Adrien turned towards her, expecting her to be celebrating with him. Instead, she was incredulous, and Adrien took an inadvertent step back. “Are you telling me, that for the past four days, while I’ve been packing and unpacking and trying to figure out how to say goodbye to you, you’ve been searching for a way to take down your Father LEGALLY?!”

Adrien just shrugged, “What’s wrong with that?”

Marinette let out a small chuckle, “Oh my innocent little Kitty,” before pulling Adrien into a hug.

Adrien melted into her hug before her words registered in his mind. “Wait, why were you trying to say goodbye to me?”

Marinette just laughed and pulled him in tighter, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

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

 The next day, Lucie was whisked off by the producers first thing in the morning, and Marinette was given a sealed note. She kindly thanked the producer before running off to her room to read it.

Marinette giggled with relief when read her instructions and was relieved that it was finally going down tonight. Inside the note was a list of things she needed to do, and was grateful that she would have the whole mansion to herself today.

“Okay Tikki, I’ve done everything he asked. Do you really think this is going to work?” Marinette’s eyes were sparkling with excitement and thankfully, Tikki’s were too.

“If everything goes as planned, then this should work flawlessly.” Marinette giggled at the idea. She could be engaged to the love of her life by the end of the week. All that stood in her way was tonight.

Marinette dressed in pair of black pants and a black shirt and pulled her dark hair up into a messy bun, hiding it in the red ballcap that she had stolen. Besides her obviously feminine face, she looked exactly like an intern that had been itching to get behind a camera all season long. As long as no one looked too closely at her face, she was golden.

Right after Lucie got back, Marinette snuck out. She found the band of producers that had taken Lucie home and followed them to what she could only assume was production headquarters. No one looked twice at her, but Marinette didn’t dare speak. The hardest test was yet to come. Once inside the hotel, which Marinette realized with a jolt was the same one that Adrien was staying in, she broke off and followed the map that had been delivered to her by Plagg. She followed the long hallway, and, after making a handful of turns, stopped at an unmarked door. She knocked confidently and counted to fifteen before the door opened.

“What is it?” Gabriel Agreste asked glancing down at the red ballcap but not at her face.

Marinette threw her voice an octave lower, “They want you for an interview in room three.”

Marinette could still feel Gabriel’s eyes boring into her head, but she finally heard a swift “Fine,” before the door was closed and he started walking down the hall. Marinette smiled to herself and followed.

“I don’t know why this wasn’t put on my schedule. You all have become sloppier as the show has gone along. I’m grateful this is almost over and I’ll never have to work with camera crews and ignorant producers ever again.” Gabriel snapped as they walked. Marinette just stayed silent, knowing that’s how most of the producers treated him anyway.

When they arrived at the door, Marinette unlocked it, with a key that was also delivered (and most likely stolen) by Plagg earlier that day. She held the door open for Gabriel and quickly shut the door behind them before ducking behind the very large camera that had been set up in here. Someone had done a great job, as the room truly looking like an interview space. Marinette pretended to fiddle with the camera as Adrien, who was not disguised in any way, slipped into the shadows and shot her a wink.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Marinette said, throwing her voice again.

Gabriel frowned but started. “Meeting Lucie today was such an enlightening experience. She was such a pleasant girl and I truly hope that Adrien chooses her. She would be a wonderful addition to the family.”

“Even though I don’t love her?” Adrien asked, stepping out from the shadows.

Gabriel did a double take and put one hand to his forehead, as if he had a headache. “Adrien, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to discuss something with you, Father.”

“Can it wait?” Gabriel snapped, removing his hand from his face and gesturing to the camera, “I’m trying to get this interview over with.”

“No. We’re talking now.” Adrien said firmly.

Gabriel glanced at the camera and then back at his son. “Fine. Stop filming,” he instructed the camera before turning back to his son. “Speak.”

“I’m through with the lies.”

“What in the world are you talking—”

“You know what I’m talking about! I’m done with lying to the cameras, to you... no, for you. This ends now.”

Gabriel let out a humorless laugh. “Very funny, Adrien. Let’s go.”

“No.” Adrien responded. “I’m serious. You have to butt out of my personal life.”

“And I will, as soon as you and Lucie have been engaged for 6 months. By then the company merger will be final and you can break up with Lucie and marry that other girl—”

“Marinette,” Adrien nearly growled her name and Marinette shivered behind the camera.

“Yes, that one. Once you’ve done what I need you to, I will happily leave you alone. But for now, you’re mine.” Gabriel stood up and straightened his suit. “Now, we’re done here.” Marinette gently shifted the camera to follow Gabriel, slow enough to where he didn’t notice the movement.

“Sit.” Adrien commanded, but Gabriel ignored him. He was halfway to the door when, “Father, I’m quitting the company,” finally got his attention.

Gabriel turned around slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! I’m done. I refuse to be your perfect model son anymore. I’m going to get a degree in something I actually want to do and sue you for the use of my face. You’ll be out millions and a spokesperson. Plus, I doubt my lawyer would find it a good idea to still have you in my life, so you’d never get to see your son again.”

“Why would you say something so—”

“But,” Adrien cut him off, with a new sense of hope evident in his voice. “You can stay in my life. You convince me to stay at the company. Under one condition.”

There was a long pause. Adrien was standing tall and so sure of himself that Marinette beamed with pride. This was so much more than the boy who, in the beginning of the season, was hoodwinked into keeping Lila for eight weeks. He was standing tall with his head held high, and Marinette could finally see her wonderfully brave partner without the suit on.

Finally, Gabriel replied, “What’s your condition?”

Adrien breathed a small sigh of relief before replying, “Marinette.”

“No—”

“You’re not listening,” Adrien cut him off once more. “You have two choices. You either stay in my life and keep me in the company, but Marinette gets to be the winner. Or, you lose me, my face, and everything else and I still run off to marry Marinette without you and this stupid show.”

“Is that all?” Gabriel asked sarcastically, and turned on his heels towards the door. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you. That camera has been filming the whole time and as soon as you walk out that door, I post this on the internet and ruin the show and your reputation.”

Gabriel’s eyes shot a furious look at Marinette, who finally made eye contact, smiled and gave Gabriel a wave. Recognition crossed Gabriel’s face before he turned back towards Adrien. “If you think that you and your little bitch will get away with this—”

“We already have.” Adrien spat, anger coloring his voice.

Marinette could see Gabriel working it out, looking for loopholes, something that could still get him everything he wanted. Slowly his face got redder and his eyes began to narrow as he realized he was cornered. Gabriel was about to open his mouth to speak, when Adrien cut him off again.

“You know what? I’ve changed my conditions.” Adrien was still angry, and he slowly started stepping towards his father. “Not only will you butt out of my life on the show, but you’ll also train Marinette to take over your company. God knows it could use better leadership than what it has now and Marinette is perfect for that job.”

Marinette let out a little gasp, which caused Gabriel to once again look at her. “You,” he hissed. “You’ve hoodwinked my son into handing over his fortune! You are just a little gold digger! I knew it was a mistake not to take care of you and your poisonous ambitions myself!”

“Do not talk to her like that!” Adrien yelled at the same time that Marinette stepped out from behind the camera and yelled, “Why do you think so little of him?”

Both Agreste men froze and stared at her.

Marinette made eye contact with Adrien, who’s eyes were wide with shock. The look on his face broke her heart, but she turned to Gabriel, knowing she needed to get this off of her chest before they continued.

“Why do you still treat Adrien like a child? He is a grown adult, who is smart, kind, polite, and so aware of his actions and the consequences they could have on you it’s insane. He only looks out for you and your company. He cares about this company even though he hates working for it, but he’s too nice to leave because he knows that if he does, there wouldn’t be a kind-hearted Agreste left to smooth over all of the problems you make with everyone. He is the first boy to notice me, my flaws, my mistakes, my over-thinking everything, and he still gets me. This sweet, amazing boy that you raised doesn’t care about his own dreams in life. If he can help me accomplish mine then he will drop everything to do so. I love him more than words could every express, and I know that you’re too heartless to understand this, but Adrien could be poor, and dirty, and homeless, and have no visible benefit to me, and I would still choose him every day.” 

There was a long pause where both men just stared at Marinette. Adrien with tears in his eyes, and Gabriel quizzically. Finally, Adrien cleared his throat and addressed his father once more.

“I’ve presented you with your options. Marinette deserves to run your company, and she deserves your respect. You’re free to leave, Father, just know that camera footage will be kept in a secret place until the show has finished filming.”

Gabriel stared at Adrien for a long time before turning on his heel and walking out of the room.

No one dared to breath for a solid minute. “That went better than I expected,” Plagg announced as he flew out of the corner where he had apparently been hiding. Tikki joined him and flew next to Marinette. “Are you okay?” She asked, placing a gentle hand on her cheek.

Marinette just looked up at Adrien. “Why did you ask your father to make me the head of Gabriel fashion?”

Adrien, who was beaming at her from ear to ear, just engulfed her in a hug, “Because no one else in this world is more deserving than you. Plus, I want to keep the company in the family, and this seemed like the best way to do it.”

“We really did it, didn’t we?” Marinette breathed, resting her forehead on Adrien’s.

“Yes, we really did.”

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

 Marinette didn’t have much time to enjoy their success the next day, before the producers were grooming her for her “meet the family” date. Marinette didn’t know what to do, what to say, what to think about how Gabriel was going to react to this, but thankfully, Adrien knew her well.

“He’s going to behave.” Adrien reassured her on the phone minutes before she got out of the car to see him in person. This conversation was happening off the record. “I’ve talked to him since and he knows that in order to make this seem like a normal day filming the show that he’s going to have to act civilly.”

“If you trust him, then I will.” Marinette whispered, aware of the producer who provided the phone sitting next to her. She was sure that he didn’t know what the phone call was specifically about.

Adrien laughed, and even through the phone, the sound made her heart skip a couple of beats. “Oh, I don’t trust him. I just know that he’s very good at compartmentalizing, considering he’s done that with me my whole life. This date should seem completely normal to an observer.”

“Understood.” Marinette turned towards the window, as the producer slowly started to lean closer to the phone. “I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon, Bugaboo.”

Marinette handed the phone back to the producer and thanked him. He didn’t ask any questions.

A couple of minutes later, Marinette was out of the car before it even fully came to a stop. She knew the cameras were watching her, but part of her didn’t care. They had defeated the big bad wolf, what was stopping her from diving into her new life with Adrien at her side? If they didn’t have to play by the rules, they would have already moved in together and started planning a wedding. Sadly, Lucie was still madly in love with Adrien, and no matter how much she loved him herself, she didn’t have it in her to hurt Lucie more than she already was going to be.

She managed to walk towards Adrien calmly, smiling like an idiot and playing her role very well. Thirty-six hours between us and forever. Marinette could survive today. 

“Hey, beautiful,” Adrien said as Marinette got closer. He wrapped her up in a hug and he gently kissed her. When he pulled away, the smile on her face wasn’t faked.

“I’ve missed you,” Marinette gushed, bouncing on her toes with excitement. Their time after Gabriel had left the night before was not long. They had enough time for words of encouragement before Marinette had to get back. Thankfully, Tikki helped her slip into her bed right as the first producer came looking for her, so no one noticed she was missing. She did have enough time this morning to give Lucie one last squeeze and for her to give a whispered “Good luck,” before Marinette was rushed out the door.

“I’ve missed you too. Are you ready for today?” Adrien asked, casually taking her hand and leading her to a bench nearby. Marinette, who was just now becoming aware of their surroundings, realized they were at the actual Agreste Mansion. She’s always been curious as to what lies beyond those gates, and today seemed to be the day she’d find out.

Marinette breathed in a shaky breath, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Adrien gave her hand a squeeze, “They are going to love you.”

“They?” a strangled cry left her lips, but Adrien had already stood her up and was leading her for the main gate. Marinette was able to appreciate the grandness of the mansion once more before the gates opened and she was led down the long driveway towards the looming front doors.

Funnily enough, the only thing that Marinette could think of while walking towards the mysterious people in her future family was how grand this place would look all dressed up for a ball. Like she was a princess in a movie, walking up to the castle for the first time. She could imagine the people in Victorian dresses and tall wigs and powdery make-up and a beautiful 25-piece orchestra playing the waltz as the doors slowly slid open, reveal the hidden prince. Her illusion shattered however when her real-life prince charming squeezed her hand one last time as he slowly pushed the door open.

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

Marinette had to admit, Gabriel really was being civil. As soon as they arrived Gabriel had been cordial, acting as though nothing major had happened between them in the past 24 hours. He addressed her directly and asked a couple of surface-level questions, and they were able to carry on in front of the cameras well.

Thankfully she was spared the one-on-one conversation with him, when Adrien’s bodyguard, who Adrien introduced as Gorilla, whisked her away first. They had a nice chat about Adrien, and she felt as though he was asking her more dad-like questions than Gabriel would have. “What are your intentions? What did your parents say to you about Adrien? Will you be comfortable adapting to Adrien’s lifestyle?” Marinette answered every one calmly and truthfully, hoping that the Gorilla accepted how much she really cared for him.

After Gorilla came Natalie, who was stiff and clearly just there as a diversion so she wouldn’t have to talk with Gabriel. Although, right as Marinette was about to be taken away, Natalie cleared her throat and said, “Whatever he decides, I hope you love him enough for this to work,” and Marinette detected a hint of actual feelings in her statement. 

After Natalie, Marinette was preparing herself for Gabriel, when a different Agreste showed up. “I want to show you something,” Adrien whispered, grabbing her hand and leading her up the grand staircase in the main foyer.

“Mr. Agreste, if you’re taking me away to take advantage of me, you should know that I know how to defend myself,” Marinette joked as they ran up the stairs. Adrien’s laughter almost gave them away as they slid into a room off of the hallway.

The first thing Marinette noticed was the view. It was gorgeous. There were at least 6 sets of floor-to-ceiling windows that showed off all of the beauty of Paris in one glance. Once she tore her eyes away from the view, though, she was caught breathless again. It was clear this room had everything a little boy could have dreamed. From the latest video game console to the half pipe and basketball hoop on one side of the room, to the entire balcony full of what Marinette could only assume were movies or video games. But, there was also evidence in this room that a young adult had lived here as well. The desk took up almost the entire corner of the room, three times bigger than a normal desk, and on it was stacks of papers and textbooks, as well as three computer screens and a laptop. On the couch was some sort of science project that looked much too complicated for Marinette to understand. And standing right in front of the gigantic bed, looking abashed and red in the cheeks was the young adult himself.

“Adrien this room is—”

“Too much, I know. It has evolved throughout my childhood and there is even a piano hidden out of sight that will appear at the touch of a button.” Marinette just felt her jaw drop, but Adrien continued as if nothing unusual had happened. “That’s not the reason I brought you up here, although I did want to show you a piece of my childhood.” Adrien grabbed her hand once again and walked her towards the crazy mess of a desk. He came to what seemed to be a random drawer, and pulled out something dark and square. “I want you to meet the most important person in my life.” Adrien said as he passed the object towards her. 

It was a picture frame, and inside of it was a woman. She was blonde and green-eyed like Adrien and absolutely stunning. Marinette could tell that the picture was slightly old, but it was a great picture, and only one person who this could be. “This is your mother,” Marinette told him, and he gave her a bright smile and nodded. “She looks just like you,” Marinette smiled, the love obvious in her voice, as her fingers caressed the glass.

“I get that a lot.” Adrien beamed back. “I just didn’t think that my family would be complete if you didn’t at least see her before you left.”

“Can you tell me about her?” Marinette asked, offering the picture frame back to him.

“She was the most kind-hearted person I’ve ever met. She loved me more than anything else and brought the best out of everyone, including Father. He was happy when she was around, and he acted like a true father. She was pure light, and everyone who interacted with her could see. She starred in a movie, right before she passed, and I watch it every year on the day she disappeared, so it feels like she’s there with me. Next year, you can watch it with me,” Marinette blushed and she was overwhelmed with love for this woman she had never met. But, if there was someone who could very clearly make such an outstanding impact on Adrien, Marinette couldn’t help but love them as well.

“She sounds wonderful, Adrien.” Marinette pulled him into a hug and he squeezed her tight.

“She was. I wish you could have met her, she would have loved you.” Marinette made a happy humming noise in response, and the two just stayed locked together for a moment. When Adrien started to pull away, he was smiling so sweetly that Marinette almost melted to the floor. He rested his forehead on hers and asked, “You wanna know how I know?”

“Sure.”

“You have similar energies. You both bring so much joy to those around you and put positive experiences out into the world. You never cause someone to be upset and if you do, you find a way to fix it, and she was just like that. She made friends with Audrey Bourgeois, for goodness sakes!” Both of them let out a giggle, although Marinette felt her eyes tearing up at his words. “But most of all, even without all of that stuff, she would have loved you because I love you. She would have seen the way I look at you and known and that would have been enough for you to be a good person in her book.” Marinette felt a tear slip down her cheek, but Adrien wiped it gently off her face.

“Thank you for sharing her with me, Adrien.” Marinette said in a thick voice, feeling more tears threaten to slip out.

“Always.” Adrien’s lips found hers and they shared a deep kiss for a moment, until a knock came at the door.

“We’ve been discovered,” Adrien whispered, reluctance to walk away clear in his voice.

“We better get it, we need to finish filming,” Marinette’s voice was a whisper too and he leaned down and kissed her one last time, before grabbing her hand once more and leading her towards the knocking and back downstairs.

~~~

Sorry for the late update!! My sister was faster than me in getting it out but I finally did lol! We are nearing the end of this lovely story and I sure do hope y’all stick around for it all! 

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[c0mmander-rex]

The long and the short of it….

OR

Rex's musings over the life of a clone

I didn't really consider how different we were from others until I spent some time among the natives of Khalclax-I. It was a rather obscure planet, farther out on the outer rims than most. Not necessarily strategically import, I suppose that's why it escaped the worst of the war. 

I had a flight crew of three and about half a dozen troopers; we had been tasked with safely delivering a deligate to her homeworld and with forces stretched so damn thing, when General Skywalker received the request while we were in the middle of a grind elsewhere I thought he might crack a tooth the way he ground his jaw.

Not having the manpower to spare for a proper escort, we decided to send a small, fast moving ship with a crew of my best to get the job done. I took personal responsibility for it. Myself and a few of my ARCs would suffice.

We'd made it almost to the honorable lady's planet before the Seps took notice of us. A quick drop off and a hasty exit had them chasing us like hungry massifs. A good time it was - not certain if they thought we still had the delegate or if General Skywalker was with us, but either way they were persistent.

We led them on a fine chase, backtracking through nebulae, hiding amidst asteroid fields, perhaps more entertaining than it should have been. They did get a lucky shot off and damaged our engines, so we set down on Khalclax-1 to wait for extraction. 

Unfortunately, half a dozen clones doesn't warrant haste in the scheme of the GAR, so we would have to hunker down and wait until a carrier could break away from conflict, which turned out to be eighteen cycles.

The natives were friendly, peaceable people. They lived humbly, but didn't suffer from their meager lifestyle. They strongly valued their connection to the dirt under their feet and what it could provide them.

Artax, a high ranking male, was very eager to get to know us and show us their talents.He led many hunts to feed his kinsmen, a grand time - it made the wait a rather pleasant one. 

I was most fascinated by their ability to train feral creatures to hunt with them. He favored a magnificent bird, called a "Connaraptor" in basic, who would drop out of the sky like a fighter and pulverize its prey mid air. Artax warned me against making eye contact and never to approach her. 

"She's wild, sir. I've worked hard for years - she doesn't belong to me. Its more like a partnership."

I asked that if she was so feral, why did she return to him after the hunt and not just fly away on her great wings?

Artax explained that his people represented an alpha animal on the planet. When they captured these predatory beasts, they trained them to understand that the humanoid was the one to provide them with food. Obey the humanoid and be fed and kept alive. A wise handler keeps his hunter dependant on him. Feed him, but not enough to sate his hunger. Give him rest but not enough that his mind turns to other tasks. Hungry and sleep deprived, the creature can only think of what the handler has to give, and so returns to him again again. A foolish handler is too lavish with his charge, and then the beast is sated and can think of other things, like seeking his freedom.

I was intrigued. It was a fascinating dynamic, but I also saw a great truth in his relationship with his bird. Handler - hunter. Or GAR - Clone.

The reality was a little shocking when I recognized it. But really… 

The galaxy at large would be terrified of us if they knew what were capable of. On the holonet they just see men in plastic armor. Men like them. But that couldn't be farther from the truth. We were engineered with all the prowess and grace of a mature Nexu. From the time we were conscious we were trained to hunt, track, trap, kill, and destroy. Our every waking moment was devoted to perfecting these skills. We were living weapons, profoundly athletic, running off of piss and testerone. Realistically, the brutal potential of the clone army was a point of pride for the Kaminoans. The cloaners had taken genetic superiority, combined it with the cold and calculating efficiency of mandalorian war culture and delivered it packaged and programmed to the Republic.

Yes we were trained to obey orders, 13 years of conditioning is not easily changed, I know that for a fact, but there is more. We are kept at a fighting weight around 175 - 185 lbs. The idea is that this weight range reflects a balance point that our bodies can fuel and perform at its peak efficiency. Our diets are even planned out for a specific caloric intake to support different intensities of operation. We are given enough to function. Fed sparingly to "preserve our efficiency" and rested for 5 - 6 hours for "ideal operation". In reality it is not so comfortable. The result of this program is millions of Connaraptors. Hungry. Exhausted. We fling ourselves in to battle for the joy of the challenge,  the bloodrush of the fight. To feel alive and free, doing what we did best. Then after everything, we crawl back to our masters, starving and exhausted, because that is where we find care and comfort, reward given for a job well done. 

This realization was sobering, if not entirely depressing. Many brothers had likened our existence to enslavement. Most just shrugged it off, content with the idea that this was our purpose and questioning the status quo only disrupted the reward. But it was what Artax had said… she is wild…

That lay within all of us. The rules and regulations and training were our leashes and harnesses, which allowed the GAR to make use of us. I thought about my own existence. With Anakin.. and Ahsoka. Later, as I observed the General, I realized that he must have come to the same conclusion as I. He had been a slave as a boy. He knew what it was to work your fingers to the bone and then go to your bed hungry and beaten down. I suspect that was why the 501st had become the most capable legion in the GAR. We were known for getting results. That and our amazing feats of strength and skill. The secret was… he was a poor handler. He indulged us, ovefed us, gave us more R&R than the Kaminoans ever would have allowed. Man for man we were the heaviest troopers on average. Many of us operated at well over 200lbs. The extra nutrition allowed us to swell in size, and his prowess allowed him to argue for more versatile armor (because we were becoming fat bastards all around, we needed armour that our bulk would fit, thus Phase II had much more forgiveness than the phase one). Now, his well fed men were able to focus on other things, like strategy, and it was a large group of Lads were able to offer up novel solutions while in the middle of the shitstorm. This really set us apart from the rest of the GAR. And Torrent especially had become known as "The fist". 

How long would it be, though, until Skywalker's raptors began hunting their own food? How long would it be…. before I chose to fly? 

[taylorroger-s]

the great pretender [2] // billy/four x reader

a/n hi!!! here’s the second part of “the great pretender” and the third 6u fic ive posted. i have so many wips right now (because i have no self control and keep on starting stories i dont have the time to finish). i sat down like 4 hours ago and this is what came out of it. i’m kind of vibing with this story ngl. sooo here's part one, please reblog, etc.

masterlist!

warnings: none!

enjoy :)

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the address the blond man had given you led to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. you tentatively stepped out of your car, eyes scanning back and forth across the area. it suddenly occurred to you that you could have been led there to be murdered. you could walk back to your car, drive back home, and forget you ever met the british man. but you didn’t, and continued to walk towards a set of steel double doors. 

it was unusually warm for that time of year with not a cloud in the sky as the sun beat down. you drew closer, searching the surrounding lot for some sign of other people. nada. the building stood about twenty feet high, a few small windows placed at even intervals on the concrete walls. definitely felt like a prime murder location. aren’t i here to “die”? you mused, hand closing around the door handle. you breathed in, out, then pulled the door open and stepped inside the dark warehouse. 

it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and you flinched when the heavy door shut behind you. taking another deep breath, you started walking around the room, eyes tracking the catwalks hanging overhead. the only light streamed through the small square windows, dust drifting through the air. the light all joined in the center of the room, one spot free of shadows.

“hello?” you called out, hands clenched into fists by your side. for a moment, there was only silence, and your anxiety was steadily mounting by the second. your heart nearly stopped when you heard a set of footsteps from the other side of the room. then another. someone sounded like they jumped from one of the catwalks. another set of footsteps. and another, until you could tell that there were six people in the room besides yourself. you were frozen, waiting for the mysterious group to make the next move. your eyes were glued to the circle of light as a tall man stepped into view. 

“well well, looks like four was right. you did show.” his voice was relatively neutral, and he spoke fast. he had close-cropped, light brown hair, and a short beard; a few gray hairs sprinkled throughout. he gave off heavy egomaniac vibes. you automatically were suspicious. some part of you was struggling with vague recognition of his frustratingly handsome face. had he been on the news at some point? but you couldn’t put your finger on it and let the question slide. 

“i did. might i ask why you wanted me to come here in the first place?” he tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms over his chest. you could just barely make out the outlines and shadows of more people lingering behind him. you unconsciously readjusted your stance to feel more confident, lifting your chin to look him in the eye. 

“in the simplest of terms, you’re an asset,” he spoke without letting through a whisper of emotion, a small, cold smile on his lips. his light tone was mildly irritating, and you were eager to get to the chase as to why you were there. but you already knew the answer, of course. piles of money and classified statistics would make you useful to any illegal operation. yet you decided to play dumb. letting out a breath through your nose, you placed a hand on your left hip. 

“oh? to what?” you did your very best to fill your words with a mocking lilt, though it wasn’t necessarily convincing, as his eye roll betrayed. the flicker of a scowl crossed your lips before you slid back into a poker face. you heard a faint snicker from behind the man, and then a subsequent hush. they were listening. 

“our crew. we’re just like you. tired of the bullshit. and we decided to do something about it,” the dangerous vibe you found on the group on a first impression seemed to be confirmed. it made you wonder what made each of them an ‘asset’ to this group, and if it was a bigger operation than just an agreement between the people in that room. 

“and we know you do too.” they certainly remember my outburst last night, you thought, cringing at the memory. once you stepped into the cab, it was impossible to think of anything else but what you did and what you were thinking of doing. the rest of the night was spent on the couch in your apartment, analyzing the piece of paper the british man gave you, even dipping into the fbi database with your account to dig up any other information. you were surprised to find there was nothing you came up with except for the location and ownership of the place he wanted you to find. apparently, it had been owned by some big tech company but was later abandoned and left to fall into disrepair. besides that, your hands came up empty of all information and you ended up falling asleep while watching tv, still holding tightly to the note. 

“what exactly am i in for if i say yes?” curiosity from the night before still simmered in the back of your mind, and you were becoming more and more willing to take the leap you spent the last twelve hours considering. ‘death’ in exchange for a life of freedom. it dawned on you that this man must have faked his death to avoid the very government you were employed by. 

“well, this is less of a request and more of an opportunity. you can take it or leave it.” now it was your turn to roll your eyes. your original assumption that the man was egotistical came to mind again. he certainly sounded like some boys you had known in college: rich from daddy’s trust fund, filled with unearned confidence, and owner of a severe superiority complex. 

“wow, you really know how to make a lady feel special.” a louder laugh sounded from the shadows behind the man, and you instinctively flicked your gaze to where it came from. an annoyed, whispered curse (in… french?) followed the laugh, which only made the person laugh harder. 

“ooh, she’s got a mouth on her. nice choice quattro.” the man’s voice was rich and warm with a slight accent to his words. quattro meant four. was that a name? nickname? 

“ANYWAY, you’re gonna be dead in every way, except physical. without the law to hold us, we can do anything.” the man sunk back into a slightly patronizing, dreamy tone, trying to paint a picture of the future you left your boyfriend for. freedom from your earthly responsibilities. but the cynical analyst within you won over. 

“as someone who works for the government, that is highly irresponsible.” you felt almost like a mom scolding her children for cooking up a dangerous activity. the man’s smile looked sharp enough to draw blood, brown eyes growing a shade darker. you had to stop yourself from taking a step back. 

“didn’t bring you here to lecture me about my poor life choices, i hear enough of that from seven. this is your chance to make the mark you have been dreaming of. now, what do you say?” another number. you had to admit, he was highly convincing. he had such sheer charisma it was hard to resist, but you drew together the best argument you could think of and forced it past your lips. 

“i’m not sure… it seems like you are up to some questionable vigilante justice,” you were about to continue your motherly scolding when you felt a person move to stand behind you. their body heat sent a startling chill across your skin. they leaned in closer, mere inches from your ear. 

“love, this is what you have been looking for, right? i promise you won’t regret it.” your breath hitched at the british man’s voice. he didn’t sound as confident as he had the night before, somehow seeming younger without his gorgeous features clouding your thoughts. you tried to fight back against the part of you completely convinced by the two men, but it grew stronger by the second. oh god… am i really going to do this? you took a deep breath in, out. there was no more debate. you knew exactly what you wanted, needed. 

“what do you need me to do?” you breathed out, pressing your lips into a thin line as soon as the words left your mouth. the blond man behind you relaxed, and you could almost see the smile he was most likely sporting. the man in front of you nodded approvingly, rubbing his beard with his left hand. 

“excellent. first step, your name is now eight. i’m one. take a wild guess as to what everyone else’s names are. second, fake your death…” eight? what? the two numbers mentioned before made sense. they were names. your name was now eight, something that you had not expected in the slightest. but you didn’t had time to argue. you listened carefully as one explained how you were going to fake your death, along with finer points about your new fellow ‘ghosts’. a few minutes later, you were caught up. you turned around to greet the others, forgetting that the blond man was standing right behind you. you stumbled, the man’s strong arms keeping you from falling. you could feel the embarrassment rise as he looked down at you. 

“glad you joined up… eight.” your cheeks grew hot with every passing second he had a hand on you. clearing your throat, you reluctantly stepped out of his arms.

“that’s gonna get some getting used to.” you laughed nervously, inwardly cringing at the obvious worry in your voice. he just smiled, raising the ambient temperature by 2 degrees celsius. his gorgeous green eyes were locked with yours, and you couldn’t help but offer him a shy smile in return. you were usually much stonier when it came to complete strangers, but the man’s casual confidence was annoyingly attractive. 

“you’ll catch on quick. you’re family now.” you softened a little at the care in his voice. you broke eye contact and glanced down at your shoes. a beat later, you looked back up, smirk on your lips. 

“then what’s your name, casanova?” 

“four,” he matched your smile, reaching out a hand for you to shake. you took it, praying he wouldn’t notice the sweat on your palm. his hands were rough with callouses, skin hot to the touch. 

“pleased to meet you, four.” you responded, doing a mock curtsy once you let go of his hand. he smiled, winking at you playfully. 

“likewise.”

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yayayydufaysudf it’s done! hope ya liked it

[iwritethat]

Tim Drake: Belonging

A/N: Alrighty, links to Rogue One but can be read seperately of course. This is how (Y/n) and Tim met, set a few years before...

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Another day, another gala to attend in order to promote Drake Industries despite his parents constant travels, they made time to appear at Gothams’ formalities on occasion. This was one of those times.

Only his usual plans of being bored and wondering around aimlessly were unexpectedly sabotaged by her. By a beautiful wealthy guest who radiated class and elegance beyond her years, a complete newcomer in his eyes, a youthful presence that would effortlessly attract undivided attention in her future maturity. By you.

Tim was swept away by an enigma, the only word prominent enough in his scramble of thoughts to describe the character, with the band playing a slow dancing melody it made it easier for him to focus on the mysterious beauty in front of him.

"You don't belong here, do you?" Came your calculating yet pleased tone, your fingers gently dancing on his shoulder.

"Who- of course I do, my parents run a successful industry."

"I said you, not your parents. You just seem to stand out to me, that's all." You were so carefree, offering an aura no else in the proximity ever possessed and he’d be lying if he hadn’t already been lured in.

"Is that why you whisked me off, oh strange one?" It made him feel relaxed, his better judgment warning him of mesmerising strangers but the small threads of personality he’d been entangled in so far encouraged him to ignore it.

"Yes that, and I needed to blend in momentarily but that’s a completely irrevelevant topic. So to thank you for your unwitting aid, let me tell you a secret: I don't belong here either." You whispered the last part in his ear, causing him to become noticeably flustered - you were both young, probably the first female to ever get this close to him by your deductions.

"I'm Timothy Drake..." The young man started, assuring to meet your gaze once you'd pulled back.

"(Y/n) (L/n), great to stumble into you."

"You too, so what brings you here?" Now it was his turn to inquire, and a complicated conversation ensued - one that left you both eager to learn more but after your brief disappearance it became apparent your first meeting was to be cut short.

"Call me!" He registered your voice before your sudden rushed appearance by his side, a kiss placed on his cheek as you briskly checked your surroundings.

"I don't have your number!"

"Check your phone, I stole it when we danced and added it whilst I was gone." You smugly shot back, tossing the young man his phone before swiftly making an exit and it was moments later that outraged shouts echoed from the top floor - who exactly were you?!

.

Tim assumed that would be the last he saw of you, a welcomed abnormality that was a breath of fresh air in his otherwise predictable life. The name you'd given provided very little - if anything - in his online research but your number had proven valid and became his chosen method of communication. However, in all his carefully constructed scenarios, the last place he expected to stumble across anyone of the like would be in the rundown rings of Gothams back alleys when inspecting a rumour he'd overheard from the rebellious seniors at school.

The atmosphere was rowdy yet electrifying, alcoholic beverages littered the area, attendees wore too little clothing for the chilling breeze of a Gotham evening and recognisable Hip Hop tracks blared from the boasting speakers inbuilt into the boots of various strikingly customised cars. Anyone of his stature would be out of place here, thus grateful for his hoodie which allowed him to blend in a little better - he swiftly dodged cheering onlookers as engines roared through the streets and it was almost overwhelming to the senses but at the same time intoxicating, crews hovered around their vehicles to prepare it for the next race all whilst endorsing the flirtatious antics of fans but through all of the commotion a constrastingly gentle tug of his hood caused him to hesitate.

"You're the guy I met at the gala yeah?" You casually chimed with a soft smirk and raised brow, arm resting on your hip as he turned to you after releasing his red hoodie. He had no prepared answer, looking you up and down with a cracked “Yes.”

You shook your head with a quiet but amused chuckle, smoothly entwining your fingers to pull a still semi unresponsive Timothy away from the delinquent crowd to speak more freely.

"What are you doing here?" The teen finally manged to ask once regaining his composure though upon reflection, Tim shouldn't be here either but since it was only a tiny detour he saw no harm in indulging his curiosity of the vigilante lifestyle. Was it so bad to want to see Batman in action? This is something he'd want to intercept right?

"Same thing as you, accidental wrong turn." You smugly commented obviously lying and sassing Tim whilst glancing back to the 'entertainment' briefly with a smirk.

"Maybe I chose to come here." Tim was more confident this time, almost as if trying to impress you but instead you only snorted.

"Mmhmm, I doubt a richboy like you would be at a drag race rally by choice so you must be following some lead."

"Don't call me that, and you're right - I was. I wanted to see if -" Before Tim could elaborate, an ear splitting skid of breaks were heard as well as the uproar from attendees which wasn't uncommon for you.

He'd noticed your natural instincts in the situation, the way you'd located an escape route in almost 2 seconds flat and had interlaced your fingers to take him with you once more. It dawned on him then, that this was your scene despite how effortlessly you'd merged into his world of upperclass diligence - maybe that was your origin and this your choice, he'd never know nor would he be able to ask under the current chaotic circumstances.

"Have you ever driven one of these before?!" Tim shot as he slid into the deserted Lamborghini you'd practically shoved him toward, yourself more concerned with hot wiring.

"Not legally..."

"Then we should - crap!" Before he could even propose a safer alternative you'd ignited the engine and sped through the streets leaving the sirens and Batman behind.

There was something about it, as new as the adrenaline and excitement were it felt right - even Drake noted the natural gift you possessed and the way you seemed to come alive at the wheel. Tim didn't ask where you were headed, nor did he particularly care so long as you both emerged scathe free whilst you drove through the barrier of an old abandoned multi-story carpark and raced straight to the top, parking rather carelessly across the parking spaces but it served your purpose.

Tim followed as you got out of the purple Lamborghini, strolling over to the edge and sitting atop the wall peaking at the 7th story.

"C'mon richboy, this is my favourite place in the city." You beckoned him with playful wink, turning your attention to the neon lights of skyscrapers, vehicle headlights that seemed to leave a glowing trail as they sped down motorways and street lamps that blended together to create a cosmos of multicoloured stars amidst Gotham's dark skyline.

"It's - it's so beautiful." The boy breathed, soon cautiously joining you on the ledge allowing the wind to grace him with a sense of what could only be felt as weightless freedom.

It made him briefly forget the fact you'd just stolen a car to save the two of you from the rain of rapid fire gunshots, forget all of the questions he'd held regarding your mismatched past and present, and more importantly the persistent stress he always carried in his shoulders. Because of you. A woman he'd encountered twice but felt as though he'd known for years.

"I know right, it helps me think and I thought it'd help you too."

"Why?" Your thoughtfulness caught him off guard, so much so that his tone sounded disbelieving. No one usually gave this much thought to his well-being, his parents mainly too concerned with travels to properly delve into his life.

"Because you need to know what freedom feels like, to have the weight lifted from your shoulders. For you to be Tim Drake rather than an heir to a fortune. I've seen it all before but you're different, I can feel it and this is the world Tim, you can be whoever you want." There was a sincerity and softness to your voice that he wasn't expecting, like you knew exactly how he felt because you'd experienced it too once upon a time. Maybe you had?

"I want this, to see sights like these and I want to make the city a better place but I’m not sure where to start. I admire Batman who does it in his own way, but he's wavering now, he needs a Robin." Over text you couldn't read each other's emotions or disclose personal desires like you were currently and feeling Tim trust you in such a way eased your self doubts.

"Wait - you came to the rally for a potential Batman sighting, ah you’ve got to be kidding me! Not surprised though, you strike me as an undercover nerd.” You cheerfully laughed to yourself, taking a brief glance at Tim who now wore a deadpan expression.

“Thanks (Y/n), I’m so glad I ran into you again.” He playfully pushed your shoulder in mock offence before issuing his sarcastic reply.

“Sorry sorry, but if that's the case why don't you be his Robin?" The way you’d said it made it seem like a possibility, like something he could easily achieve and not once had he felt that way - it wasn’t enough to completely nullify his doubts however.

"It's not that easy, I'd have to know who Batman is for a start."

"So find out. You're definitely smart enough, I know you have the detective skills to do that - it's why we ended up here tonight after all." In contrast to the less than ideal situation, you remained calm and carefree whilst Tim only felt guilty for being a hindrance.

"Sorry about that."

"It's not a complaint, if anything it's a thank you, I hope our misguided adventure helps to find where you belong. Besides, there's no one else I'd rather share this spot with." Now you diverted your gaze from the city, furrowing your brows at his apology before nudging your side against his as a form of friendly comfort alongside your words.

"Agreed, but what about you? Have you found where you belong?" The atmosphere was dripping with meaningful contentment so you weren't surprised by his inquiry but it was much harder to answer than you'd anticipated. Considering you’d been trying to find the answer to that very question for many years now.

"Me? I never thought I'd fit anywhere but, maybe there's hope..." Subconsciously your gaze drifted to the fine technology behind you as you trailed off. It was almost a natural gift, something you could nurture into masterful skill if built upon meticulously.

.

It was both by accident and on purpose, maybe a subconscious need to see one another that lead you to the same place hoping you'd cross paths. You did - multiple times, leading to deep conversations, meaningful gestures and frivolous takeouts under the stars. You'd developed a covet friendship, one that no person would put together just by looking at the two of you - in fact you were rarely seen together at all. Individual reputation and associates probably inspired that ritual.

Tonight, he'd caught the chip you'd aimed at his mouth with a proud grin and fist pump, yourself admiring the casual side of the Drake heir with bemusement - it was one shielded from the public eye to refine an image of a future heir but that pretence was disregarded at times like these.

"So this is a congratulations for finding out Bats' real name, don't worry I'm not gonna ask." You waved him off, though he seemed mystified with how you could read him so gracefully.

"Thanks (Y/n), for being respectful about it and setting me on the right life path. I would honestly love to tell you, but there’s still some work I’ve gotta do. Hey, what about you? Any updates on where you think you're headed?"

He expected your silence, the way you took your time as you gazed off at the vibrantly lit skyline with a look of concern which lead him to continue.

"Or who with?"

This snapped your attention to him immediately wearing a shocked expression, almost offended at the thought of it being someone rather than something that would bring you fulfilment.

"Hah! Relying on someone only gets you hurt, I'm not that stupid Tim, not anymore - which is why I'm so determined to find my place in the world. It'll be my decision with no one to take it from me.” It was a bitter subject, but Tim could hear the emotion in your tone and offered an understanding smile, one you gratefully returned.

.

After that your paths began to separate, you didn't need anyone and that was a fact Tim was reluctantly forced to accept, but with his extracurricular activities and adoption distracting him, it made the whole ordeal easier. Although a silent pact was forged, from the fragments of 'what could've been' if you will, whether you chose to vocalise its existence or not. No matter how far apart, you would always be there for each other - it would only take one call to reunite as though you'd never left another's side. And you’d hoped it remained intact.

.

Now, 2 years had gone by, and you'd found yourself caught in the crosshairs of a police raid where the latest local race was, strategically deciding not to compete but instead scope your next competitors. Though you knew what took place behind the scenes to attract such attention, as a result you'd been prepared for the cops - but not for them. In an instant you'd used the commotion as a distraction, ducking out from the back of the bridge and onto the street where you’d be home free.

Until you saw him waiting for you.

"You finally found it." You cross your arms, leaning back against your custom motorcycle with an expectant look directed at the new vigilante standing before you.

Robin offered a smirk at your calm behaviour, you knew exactly who’d been wearing the mantle and you didn't see Tim Drake as a threat.

"I did. Although I'm not so sure about yours..."

"Because we're on opposite sides of the law now?" You quipped, tilting your head rather bemused with the untimely reunion.

"I never wanted to fight you (Y/n)."

"Neither. But this is where I belong Tim, and it's not a serious felony - a few drag races here and there, no harm done. A woman has gotta earn a living, and I happen to be very good at it." You playfully shrugged now only centimetres between you both.

"It's not just races though, is it." Tim knew, obviously, and he deduced that it wasn't news to you either but that didn't disguise the genuine worry in his voice.

"No, but I'm okay richboy. Don't worry about me, and if you ever need me you have my number."

"You got a new private line remember?" He recalled, having once slipped up in his contemplations to call you only to find the number out of use. Most likely because it was too easy to trace, in your world - a potentially fatal mistake.

"Yes I did, and I've already inputted into this." Came your nonchalant reply as you handed over his communicator, fingers lingering a little too long against his own as if holding on to each other for a few more seconds would convey everything.

"I'll have to arrest you eventually."

"Then catch me. If you can that is." You stepped backwards, a hand beckoning him to dare to follow as you hopped on your bike and sped off with a wink.

Robin mirrored your movement, starting up his own engine as he watched you round a corner but shut it down again with a soft smile.

"Why didn't you go after her?" Batman's voiced sternly echoed in his ear, the dark knight perched on an overlooking rooftop as Robin turned to face his direction whilst speaking into Comms.

"My bike stalled, she was already gone." Bruce furrowed his brows, the motorbike was in perfect condition before they'd left but regardless he felt there was a deeper meaning to Robins leniency, one that was out of his understanding.

With one call. No matter the distance or time that passed.

He'd come.

And so would you.

[fyrapartnersearch]

Looking for some sci-fi shenanigans!

Obligatory long post ahead warning: this post is quite long and I know it may be intimidating to some readers but please don’t let it put you off if you’d still like to rp with me :)

Hello ladies, gents and fellow rpers. After having a writing blast and seeing how I’ve got room for some more partners I’ve decided to come back in search of some partners who are interested in what I’m looking for.I’ve got a good ten or so odd years of rping experience under my belt but any potential partners do not necessarily have to have the same experience, they simply need to fit under these three things:

-third person only with correct spelling, grammar and punctuation.

- at least one small (no less than seven lines) paragraph per post as well as being willing to write more if the situation calls for it. Please do not contact me intending to give me only small paragraphs with each response as the above is simply the bare minimum I’ll accept if there’s not much going on in the rp that warrants a full paragraph.

-no one liners, one worders, script talk, poorly written sentences or just laziness in general.

This isn’t terribly much to ask for as picky as it sounds.

An important thing I shall mention is that NSFW (i don’t fade to black nor do I care when the smut happens. Just please don’t leave me once the smut has happened like lots of people seem to unfortunately do) and dark themes are a thing that occur in all my rp’s so I require you to at least be eighteen before you reach out to me. I will not accept anyone younger than 18 since I myself am in my early twenties. Underaged characters are also a no go as well. Please know that I’m in the eastern Australian time zone but almost any time zone Is compatible for me as I am awake at very odd hours. Another important thing I shall add is that you must be able to post at least once or more a day and if I don’t get any response after two weeks then I shall simply move on (only exception is if you notify me beforehand as to why you may not be able to post for a while. I’m not that vicious).

I only rp as male characters, as it’s simply my preference, I do MxM or FxM pairings. I will not double and I do not play multiple characters. I don’t do sub/dom dynamics when it comes to any aspect of the relationship. My characters are also non human (they’re aliens since this is a sci-fi rp after all) but what species your character is doesn’t matter to me at all as long as it’s not some god modded Mary Sue. Please remember that alien simply means a creature not from earth. Aliens can have fur, scales, feathers, etc, depending on where they come from. An alien with fur or scalies is not a furry or a scalie and please do not refer to them as such as it’s rude to label someone’s character as something they’re not. I will not write with someone who will insist that the theory of chimpanzees and humans unable to crossbreed should apply to hybrid characters regardless of whether they’re alien/alien or human/alien. This is fiction, not reality. Please also do not control my characters or dictate their actions. My characters are also premade and only have descriptions, I don’t do face claims or pics. I also do not care if you make a character up on the spot.

Please remember that this is a sci-fi rp and that I will not accept requests to do fandoms or any genre that doesn’t fit within the category of sci-fi. i will not accept a character that has no place in a sci-fi rp either like a dragon,harpy,demon, elf or some other fantasy creature.

First day on the job:

Everyone at the space academy remembers graduation day. The day where they became recognised as the very things they strived to be whether it’s a pilot, an engineer, mechanic, a simple Jack of all trades or even a commander if they worked hard enough. Everyone also remembers the few days after the big Moment as well. Days where one is expected to take to whatever rank they’ve had bestowed upon them almost immediately and the responsibilities that came with it as if they’d been born to do it from day one. Some things are easier said than done though, especially when trouble finds ways to manifest in forms that many would not suspect to be of any cause for concern.

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the newly graduated commander of a small crew. You are free to play as either a crew member of any rank or even a trouble making character like a criminal or something similar that gives my character a run for their money. Possibilities are endless)

Runaway royalty:

The life of a Royal was simple yet complex at the same time. They were weighed on hand and foot and never had to lift a finger to do anything provided there was a maid or servant nearby willing to do whatever task it was the royal had for them. They were expected to grow into decent, respectable leaders who could ruler a planet fairly without struggle. For many royals, they were content to follow this regularly repeating path of “destiny” that their ancestors had set them on. All but one it seems. What happens when a sheltered prince/princess takes their chance on the world beyond the walls of their castle for a chance to see the universe itself?

(Important point of notice: you will be playing the prince/princess. I’ll be playing the non Royal character they run into.)

Worlds apart:

War. War was a terrible thing that brought nations to their knees and saw many people lose their lives and freedom. Many people and aliens liked to think that all the major wars were over and done with, that they’d never have to relive the horrors that once fell upon them. To put it simply: if no one hears about bad happenings, then it’s not their problem that needs to be taken care of nor does it exist. Sadly, it does not seem to be the case for everyone. A stranger from a planet so far away that many do not believe it to exist turns up on the doorstep of an alien who is forced to realise that war could very well be just around the corner once more.

Forced:

“there’s no such thing as a bad person. Only bad choices.” Is a saying that is older than time itself. For many who are forced into a position where they have no other choice but to put their morals aside and do as they’re told, this is all too true. A space farer is captured by criminals and forced to choose between death or working as the criminals captain’s personal assistant. That means every order has to be obeyed and every rule must be followed or consequences will be dealt by force. As time passes and life go ons, the captured spacer starts to see his predicament in a different light.

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the captured spacer. You will be playing the captain.)

Forbidden romance:

aliens and humans are forbidden from associating with one another in any way that isn’t political. Whilst the two races have put aside enough of their differences to coexist in their own little pockets of space, not everyone is accepting of the idea that the two different species could live together as one, let alone ever simply just coexist peacefully together without insisting that alien planets and human planets are to be kept seperate. To trespass on the strictly human or alien occupied planets is a crime that few dare to commit. What starts out as a simple act of one sided rebellion and show of courage turns into an unanticipated adventure.

(Important point of notice, I shall be playing the alien. I’m open to this also being an alien X alien pairing.)

The hunter and the hunted:

bounty hunting was one of the few illegal professions in the galaxy that made any trouble you got into for participating in the act of killing or kidnapping someone for worth it depending on who it was you’d been given the task of tracking down. Many bounties were more profitable alive of course since it cut back on many of the legal troubles one could face if caught with a dead body. A galaxy renowned bounty hunter has been tasked with taking down one of the roughest and most wanted criminals known to man and alien with the orders to return them dead or alive. Will they succeed or fail like many before them have?

(Important point of notice: I shall be playing the criminal. You shall be playing the bounty hunter.)

Space criminals and the law:

humans and aliens have been living amongst each other side by side ever since humanity dared to venture beyond the Milky Way and made first contact with aliens. With the solar system no longer being man’s only playground other planets were quickly colonised under the new alliance between extraterrestrials and Homo sapiens. Whether you were an alien, human or a hybrid did not matter in the known galaxies. All that mattered was who you were. Not everyone took to the integration very well (there were numerous protests on both sides) but most people were willing to share in the hopes of peace. Not everyone had good intentions though……

Trouble in the alien kingdom:

the planet of (insert generic planet name here) was one of prosperity, hardship and wealth. The kingdom of (insert generic kingdom name here) was ruled by a king and a queen whose heir was betrothed to a rival planet in the hopes that a political marriage would prevent another war from happening. Only problem was that no one could see the rival planets true plans….all but one. Unfortunately no ones going to listen to a deranged commoner who probably may not even be telling the truth. What’s one to do when no one will listen?

Exile:

The wind howled as thunder crashed and shrieked all around the abandoned cargo ship. Rain pelted the metal hull, turning the ground into a cold, treacherously slippery and muddy shallow river. The ship itself had crashed into the planet countless centuries ago and was slowly being reclaimed by the environment. Plants grew from cracks in the floor as moss and vines decorated the walls. A figure sat miserably hunched in what was once the cockpit of the ship, their only shelter from the raging elements outside but not from the storm that raged inside of them. The figure leapt to their feet as the sounds of footsteps in the mud drew closer and they held their breath. Who would dare to venture out here on such a miserable night?

War of the worlds:

humans and aliens were never meant to coexist peacefully with one another. There was too much fear, Too much misinformation and too much bias on both sides for such a thing to have ever been successful. It was the humans fault that the war had started. They were the ones who’d shot down the alien ship that had been packed with specially chosen diplomats that represented each alien race known to the galaxies they dwelled in that had been on their way to earth to negotiate a truce and a plan for peace. They hadn’t even hesitated to shoot the ship full of aliens yet they’d been surprised when war had been declared on the spot. Two races. Two worlds so different yet the same fighting one another for what was either a mistake or intentional murder.

Rehab:

The UGWP alliance (unite the galaxies for the protection of all worlds and for peace alliance) portrayed themselves as calm, charismatic and kind men and women who held only the thoughts of a life together with all species living happily together. They advertised campaigns for inter species jobs, provided information to the public about human/alien interactions and encouraged diversity amongst planets. Their rehabilitation program for troublesome fellows was considered to be a god send to try and cut down on the amount of space related crimes. No one ever questioned what went on beyond the closed doors to the facility, if they did, the UGWP would have their darkest secrets revealed. Something they strove to keep under wraps. When the arrival of a particularly wild prisoner occurs, the threat of their first failure and first escaped prisoner is lurking around the corner.

(Important point of notice: in this rp idea I’d be playing said prisoner, I don’t mind if you choose to be one as well.)

Academy days:

the galaxy alliance and military defence force academy was one of the most respected training academies in the known galaxies. Men, women, aliens, humans and all of those who were in between went there to study, train and, one day if they passed the mentally, emotionally and physically gruelling years of tests, fly and be put in their own squadron. There were approximately six spots to fill on any team and the cadet who suited that spot the most would be given the title of pilot, squad leader, second in command, engineer, gunner and navigator. Each team was similar but unique in what they did. Not everyone gets along though and rivalries grow high during that delicate time between graduating and being put on a team. What happens when the top student and the lonesome outcast with a temper clashes?

Captured:

Space criminals have been around ever since advanced technology allowed others to travel and live in space as if they were living anywhere else. They’re often cunning, tricky to catch and more often than not are clever at disguising themselves whenever those wanted posters come up. It takes skill to be on the wrong side of space law and true talent to get away with it. The galaxy’s current most wanted man has finally been captured by an alliance captain and his crew. Will he beg for mercy? Will he be given a trial before being thrown into a cell to rot or will he be given a chance to turn himself around with some hard labour?

(Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the criminal for this one. You will be the alliance captain)

Enslaved:

imagine living the life of one of the most successful people on the run that could exist. Galaxies trembled at your name. You and your crew swam in wealth and the going was good. Mutiny, sadly and sometimes not sadly, exists on its own accord. One man reflected on this as he was forced to his feet. A collar attached to a chain and electromagnetic handcuffs prevented his escape as he stood for all those who cared to glance as they walked by in the market to see. No one wants to have their only life’s purpose to be to serve another……only sometimes people don’t get that choice.

(Important point of notice: I’ll be playing the slave/servant. You’ll be the master/mistress.)

Betrothed:

for as long as there has been civilisation and leaders, there has been arranged marriages. Arranged marriages, or betrothals as they were more often called, consisted of pairing two people together and making them get married in order to secure ties to another land or another planet. Political marriages benefited everyone but the married pair it always seemed. After all, you couldn’t possibly be happy being married to a complete and utter stranger? How does one who is betrothed build a life of love and prosperity when the one who bears the rings of their union is not the one who also bears their heart?

(Important point of notice: this can go two ways, either our characters are betrothed to each other or one character is betrothed. The idea has endless possibilities)

Invasion:

march 18th in the year of 6079 was the day that the aliens invaded earth. They’d been planning the take over for some time as they came prepared and easily took out Earth’s defence forces. No one knows exactly why the extraterrestrial beings from the outer worlds came to the humble blue and green planet the humans had existed on for millions of years nor did they seem to have any true intentions known other than conquering the planet and taking it for their own. This has led to the belief that all aliens must be the cruel monsters the humans stories have made them out to be. What happens when the actions of one alien puts that to the test?

(Important point of notice: I’m open to having this idea turned around and having the humans invade an alien world to take over.)

The chosen:

The galaxy alliance had chosen its newest crew to serve and protect the known galaxies. Five young cadets who’d graduated at the top of their classes and would hopefully mark the start of a new generation of spacers and heroes. The leader of the new crew has yet to be decided and tensions are high because of this. Can differences be put aside and acceptance shown? Or will nothing but chaos ensue?

The Walking wounded:

when one worked as a galaxy defence force member, they were on the frontline of everything. Every battle. Every loss. Every victory. Every struggle that the force went through they had to be there and follow the rules. You could not kill an unarmed person regardless of whether they were hostile or not. You could not turn down a plea for help even when there was reasons to suspect something was amiss. In simple terms: you simply couldn’t do anything that would make your morals be questioned. What happens when even the captain says to leave all those rules and everything you were taught by the door when faced with someone who seems to be the exception to the rule. What’s the right thing to do not by them but the entire galaxy?

Stowaway:

the galaxies were once a place of freedom and exploration. A place where you had no limits as to where you wanted to go. Now thanks to new laws, permits are required to access certain systems, quadrants and galaxies. Problem is, this permit is unobtainable by the average civilian so many have taken to learning the art of boarding another’s ship and hoping for the best. Discovery is more or less a matter of life and death. What happens when someone is unfortunate enough to be discovered?

Monster:

aliens. Aliens were terrifying beasts that were the monster in every bedtime story the humans told their children to keep them home at night. Many mothers wept when their sons and daughters applied to the space military in order to keep the extra terrestrial scum away from the galaxies they’d claimed as their own. When a human ship crashes on an alien world so far away from human civilisation it may as well not exist to the aliens and a crew member is found lost and alone by a wandering alien, will their fate be decided by a monster? Or a benevolent being?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the alien in this scenario. I’m also open to the characters situations being swapped around so it’s the alien who crashes.)

On the run:

even on the most modern of planets, life on the lamb can be difficult. There’s authorities to avoid and even more rules to break in the game of survival. No one takes pity on those who have done wrong to the point that they have their face in the paper. Even if it’s not your fault will anyone give you shelter from the harsh cold winds of reality and a biased opinion. What happens when someone does take a chance on a poor wayfaring stranger? Will the wrong doer be turned in or given a new lease on life?

Disgraced:

when one entered the royal guard they took upon themselves an oath that bound them by blood and courage to the dedication of the protection of their king, queen and the kingdoms heirs. They were sworn to protect them from any harm whilst at the same time not allowed to use their position or power to hurt anyone else. When one breaks that oath, they are sent away in disgrace and branded as a traitor who must swear to never return. Life on the run changes people, sometimes for the better…..or for worse.

Space pirates and nobles:

space was a vast starry and endless sea that many voyaged across for the purpose of research, leisure or finding ones destiny. Like any real ocean, it was filled with dangers. The most feared of all was space pirates. Bands of blood thirsty cut throats and scandalous troublemakers whose sole pleasure in life was to steal, kill and take others prisoner against their will. Only pirates dare to do what other criminals would not. When a merchant ship is robbed by pirates what fate will befall the nobles onboard?

Healing wounds, growing love:

winter on the planet of malgor is one that is feared for its extreme weather. Snowstorms could appear out of nowhere and many a traveller had frozen to death whilst trying to make their way from one village to another. It was also a time where people were at their most vulnerable, relying on the winter harvest to feed every mouth that had been born and raised in the kingdom meant no mercy was spared for poor wayfaring strangers. When a kind soul finds a wounded outcast and decides to bring them home, they discover a threat that’s lurking just beyond the borders of their place of protection.

The knight and the heir:

royals could be spoilt. There was no denying that. A life of good food, wealth, the knowledge that they’d be pampered and weighed on hand and foot by servants was more than enough to turn even the most well mannered child into an insufferable brat. The knights tasked with the protection of the future royals knew this all too well. What happens when one particularly gruff, no nonsense knight refuses to bow to the whim of their future ruler and shows them what it means to be a true leader?

The last of a dying breed:

long ago, in a time when nobles, governments and space Pirates ruled the starry seas of space, there was a terrifying race of aliens that were considered to be the most dangerous creatures to have ever lived. When the great wars started up again due to rising tensions, the humans destroyed the planet these aliens lived on to ensure the battlefield was even. The aliens were furious at the death of an entire race and very quickly turned each and every human occupied planet into a warzone littered with their bases and encampments. Only in very small pockets of the universe does this war not exist. What happens when the last member of the species shows up on a small backwater planet?

(Important point of notice: I will be playing the alien who is the last of their kind, you are free to play as a human or the story can be made to suite a scenario where you are also an alien.)

Harden my heart:

once upon a time, there was two friends who were the best of friends that anyone could have ever seen. Two people who had each other’s backs through thick and thin. Two people who supported each other endlessly even if their morals weren’t entirely inline with each other’s. Two friends who swore to never leave each other’s sides. Alas with the time of great growing came changes, the two friends bond had severed and they’d gone their separate ways in life. What happens when they run into each other many years later?

(This idea is one open to brainstorming, anything is possible.)

captain on deck!:

captains weren’t meant to fall in love with their subordinates. They were supposed to be well refined leaders who only mingled with those of a similar status. They represented the people they worked for after all, therefore they had an image that had to be strictly maintained towards the public in order to not be disgraced in any form. Behind closed doors however…..feelings were allowed to be a little more free. Secret lovers were frowned upon but one could take the risk if they were careful. After all, the captains word was law.

yes sir!:

order.serve.fight.lead.mourn.sleep.eat.rethink your life choices and repeat. Such was the ways of a military lifestyle on a world where war seemed to be a permanent occurrence and the leaders of every world trying their best to outspite one another with their relentless attacks that it made one think of how they could improve the boring daily routine they endured each and every day. In the army, you have to be tough if you want to be a leader. You had to be charismatic, strong, cold, incapable of doing anything that would sway you to possibly turn the other cheek and let your comrades be hurt. However, even the most stoic and battle hardened leaders can get lonely despite the fact that attachments to ones comrades outside of anything but friendship are forbidden by an unspoken law.

I need you:

space is a cruel mistress to even those who are experienced with charting her waters. Space, although beautiful, is often the grave of many brave explorers, soldiers and other space faring strangers. When a stranger comes to scavenge parts from a newly crashed ship in the hopes of finding something useful, they come across a familiar face. Old feelings stir and clash with one another when the crash’s survivor awakens and finds out who their rescuer is.

Sooooo….. about those pairings. What has two stars next to it is what I’m going to play if we choose the scenario:

1: enemies to lovers or rivals.

2: **captured criminal** x prison guard or other prisoner.

3: two soldiers from seperate sides falling in love.

4: **academies bad boy/outcast** x top student

5: **low ranking ship crew member/second in command/captured space criminal** x captain.

6: **commoner/rogue/knight/street rat** x prince/princess/king/queen

7: **slave/servant** x master

8: army superior x **lower ranking soldier**

9: married person X unmarried person

10: stowaway x captain

11: nurse x **injured soldier**

12: human x **alien**

PLEASE DO NOT APPROACH ME IF:

1: YOU GHOST AT THE DROP OF A HAT.

2: YOU ARE NOT WILLING TO PUT EFFORT IN TO MEET MY REQUIREMENTS.

I’m open to discussing and potentially mixing these ideas up till we get something that we both like. If you want to learn more about a certain idea tell me the name and I shall expand on it.

The only platforms I rp on are discord,telegram and google hangouts. I will not rp on any other platform other than the ones listed. If you do not have any of those then unfortunately we cannot rp. When you reach out to me requesting for an rp via one of the below platforms In the opening message tell me what idea you liked, why you liked it, give me a little introduction about you and you must put 123 somewhere in your message so that I know you’ve read all of my post, don’t just put “hi wanna rp”. Make it interesting.

My contacts

Discord: crankypurplespacecat#6187

My telegram: Tiberionwars

My hangouts: lleo52560@gmail.com

I look forwards to meeting potential partners.

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, PAYTON! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE TOWER with the faceclaim of RODRIGO SANTORO. What poetry could I write about Feivel? He is, at his core, a worldly man, has seen much, knows plenty, and still finds himself entrapped in a world which he feels he cannot possibly belong to. There is such a human quality to him in the way he shifts and turns just to keep himself alive; your concept with the mirror was especially fascinating -- he has a charm to him, but is it a charm that he’ll be able to stomach later on down the line? I also vastly appreciate your willingness to step out of the box and explore a character you’re not as familiar with; I can really see your affection for him here, and I’m excited to see what you bring to us with him!

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

NAME: Payton or Paypay

PRONOUNS: She/her/hers

AGE: 27

TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: My timezone is GMT-7. I anticipate being active on the dash (as in posting starters/writing responses) typically between 4-6 days a week, with 4 being more typical. Writing is a pretty big component of my self-care and allows me a creative outlet to use some of my energy, so I will be on frequently. 

ANYTHING ELSE?: I know this is a second application picked from a small handful of skeletons that still remained, but I wouldn’t be applying for another skeleton if I wasn’t just as excited and dedicated to what I could bring to the group with this skeleton as I was with my first application. At first I was pretty bummed and told myself if I couldn’t get back into a very excited state I would just kind of let it be, but the more I worked on this application the more excited I got about the skeleton and the character I was building out from it.

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: The Tower

NAME: Feivel Asturias

FACECLAIM: Rodrigo Santoro, Chris Hemsworth,  Joel Kinnaman

AGE: 42

DETAILS: What about this character interested you? Who are they to you? This can be as long or short as you want it to be, in whatever format you prefer.

I suggested this to you during our conversation during which you gave me feedback for my previous application, but The Tower’s skeleton is a big old jump away from characters I’m used to playing. Out of the skeleton’s that were left, I found The Tower’s to be quite compelling and likely the most challenging role to play for me. But I like challenges! Challenging is fun. I think in terms of my own development as a writer, playing a character that feels like such a departure from what I’m used to is a great way to stretch my creative muscles and really push myself to think deeper into the choices I’m making for my character.

Another component I like about The Tower is their history as an explorer. I would like to see story-telling be a strong component of their characterization because they have so many lived experiences. Given the setting, it’s likely he would be one of the most if not the most well-travelled roles in the group. His lived experiences would take him to the ends of the earth that his contemporaries only dreamed of, and I imagine he would be all too eager to recount the stories of his youth (only slightly editorialized… okay, fine, with some pretty significant embellishments). I imagine his life has led him to present as rough around the edges, as a survival tactic, as a leadership strategy, and as a mode of self-preservation… but when he gets to talking, when someone really gets him in his lane of story-telling he takes on an air of slight warmth and overwhelming nostalgia. He also absolutely adores young people, which is discussed a little further elsewhere in the application (one of the plot points if I’m not mistaken).

I am also very interested in toying around with his current role as an antiquarian--because who doesn’t want to make up a whole bunch of mythical items and historical artifacts and lore? I feel like not only would I be able to use him as a method to contribute to the general story line, but it would be a great way to explore some world building within the parameters you’ve set for the group.

I also think that the skeleton suggests that The Tower would be willing to take some risks, which would be interesting to play out. The fact that they were willing to play dumb in front of the king until it was clear playing dumb meant certain death, they take a chance: they try to bargain for their life, and it works. As an unofficial advisor, they view their stakes as being slightly less high than someone officially in the post, so they take risks: they combine a healthy amount of tact with speaking their mind. They see a monarch unhappy in her marriage and desperate for release, so they take a risk: they stand a little too close, brush the back of their hand against hers as they pass in the hallway, and find themselves in a full blown affair. I think taking risks would be an inevitable character trait of The Tower, who likely feels lonely for adventure and too big for their body now that they find themselves land-locked.

The actual card of The Tower also relates strongly to the history I imagine for Feivel and what I would assume could be a turbulent future given his affair with the queen and potential shifting alignments. I see “Tower upright: Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening” relating to his arrival in Tyrholm and the killing of his men and consequential end to his way of life/loss of freedom. “Tower reversed: Personal transformation, fear of change, averting disaster” makes me think of his need to navigate the court and avoid what could be certain disaster if the affair with the queen became known to the wrong people as well as his perceived need to tiptoe around The Sun.

Something of interest to me regarding the typical depiction of this card is the image of the card itself. One website’s information on the card stated: “A stone tower is struck with lighting and lit in flames, two people jump from the tower presumably to their deaths. An image of chaos and destruction is painted.This lightning/subsequent fire enters in through the top of the tower and knocks off the crown. The people jumping accept that they do not know what awaits them when they fall - but it is certainly better than burning in the rubble of the tower.” I find this really compelling because I think that if Feivel was present for the event Mini wrote for Kithri’s para sample (and Mini makes that headcanon) or if Feivel sees or perceives Septimus mistreats his wife or perceives King Septimus as cruel in other ways it would be relatively easy to radicalize Feivel. Feivel knows he’s coming in hot on his expiration date, and even if he isn’t on the brink of death and he’s just feeling a little run down, I think he would really struggle to accept a land-locked existence where he’s essentially prisoner in Castle Tyrholm, and might, as the card depicts, run headlong into certain doom rather than accept the alternative if he found a cause worth self-destructing for.

BACKGROUND:

You are born on high seas, the ocean so ingrained in your identity that you could scarcely tell the difference between the waves of a storm battering your ship and the untamed beating of your own heart. Your childhood is composed of tangled memories of stern looks, rope burn, aching muscles, calluses, stolen goods, and the sound of splintering wood. The smell of gunpowder from the cannons found a permanent home in your nostrils and you lived with a constant sensation of breathlessness between the battles and seascapes that colored your days.  Your early years are like the ocean itself; ever-moving, unforgiving, and constantly threatening to pull you under in its cruelty if you so much as dare to be still for even a moment.

As you enter your teenage years, the treatment you receive only becomes harsher. You are no longer only responsible for chores around the deck, but you are brought into roles of responsibility where a misstep can be the difference between life and death of a crew member. You participate in your first ambush, and it terrifies you how easy it is to drive a blade into another body and how hard it feels to draw it back out. But letting that deter you is not an option. The stakes are high, and the sting of every slap and lashing’s meaning is two-fold. Corporal punishment is a daily reality of your life, the best way a motley crew of pirates knows how to instill discipline. And beyond discipline, you know you’re the next in line for leadership and as a leader you must be unyielding. Your father is preparing you, and the way you see it the crack of his leather strap against your back is the only way he knows how to say he loves you.

You are seventeen when you inherit your father’s ship, his death a sudden and brutal blight that stains a corner of your mind you avoid with vermillion and a mix of pain and resentment. Your mother died long before, when you were no older than six or seven. The closest thing you have to any memory of her face is the memory of her running her fingers through your hair to soothe you to sleep. every time the sea breeze rustles through your hair it evokes her memory. You keep it long and unkempt for that reason alone, though if anyone asks it’s a matter of convenience. It is unbecoming of a captain to display such vulnerabilities as sentiment and weakness—or at least that’s what your father before you conditions you to believe. You quickly realize you see leadership fundamentally differently than your father. Where he asserted authority by means of dominance and violence, your approach values brotherhood.

You find yourself establishing a Brotherhood of Asturias. You name your clan in honor of your ship. Later in your life, you will name yourself in honor of your clan—not as a badge of honor, but as a reminder of your shame. No one would accuse your clan of reformation. To anyone outside of your fold, you’re just as ruthless as your father. You’d still burn the world to the ground for the promise of glory when the flames died down. But within your kinship, you develop a sort of honor code. Your commandments are as such: honor those who honor you, betray no other lest your life be on the line, help the needy if it helps yourself, to kill an innocent is the most mortal of sins, and you shall not advance yourself at the harm of others. Your reputation does shift, but only slightly. Rather than pillagers and barbarians, you are seen as a ruthless treasure hunter.  

For the next fifteen years, your reputation precedes you. You travel to the ends of the earth in search of the relics of the old gods and to reclaim the wonders of the world. It isn’t easy work, but the payoff makes it worth it. You accumulate wealth with nowhere to spend it, but the sense of power of merely possessing the rarities and finery you have is enough. And you love the camaraderie and catharsis. By your mid-thirties, you are grizzled and scarred. Your body aches from the strain of your journeys, but your mind is somehow light under the sheer weight of the stories you have to tell. Your life is spent fast, but if anybody asks it is spent well.

Finally, aware of your limitations and content with your life of misdeeds, you select your successor and one final mission. You view it as a training exercise to cement your decision: both to lay down your arms once and for all and that you’ve chosen the best and brightest to take your place. You set sail to the remote island of Calamity in search of an item of lore, so simple that the common man would pass it over without a second glance: the Mirror of Ouroboros. The mirror is a small, handheld curio of impossible value. The reflector itself is a small, obsidian mirror that upon first consideration seems harmless if not impractical. However, upon looking in the mirror its magical virtue presents itself by revealing three truths about the user, each of them as destructive as the next if the user is without fortitude of mind. You recover the mirror with little consequence along the way, and you are reassured that your decision making was sound. You are resolved to your fate and wary from travel, you drift off to sleep easily after your final ransacking.

You are dragged from your bed by a pair of hands as cold and harsh as death itself. The mere touch is enough to pull the breath from your lungs. You don’t recognize her at first, but The Sun will haunt your nightmares for the next several years, and in a much more present way haunt your days as well. You are thrown before the king, your crew not far behind. But it is toward you who the king directs his ire. He demands the mirror, and you bite back at his entitlement. You tell him you don’t have any such item, and he knows you are lying. You tell him the mirror is no creation of his god, the Undying One, and as a result it shouldn’t be any interest of his. It’s the wrong answer. You realize it’s the wrong answer when you hear a squelch from behind you, and the sound of a body drop to the floor. The groaning is easily recognizable as your second in command, slaughtered as result of your folly before they even had their real chance to carry on your legacy. The world mutes, but you’ve seen this scene before. There is nothing but a loud ringing in your ears, but you know The Sun is working down the line of your men behind you.

Your hands shake as you pull the mirror from your breast pocket, and you consider looking into it. Surely the madness is a better fate to resign yourself to than to live with your indirect responsibility for your brotherhood’s death. For another moment, you consider allowing the king to look into it, to exact your revenge without needing to so much as lift a finger. Instead, you slide the mirror across the floor, still safely contained in its cloth shroud. You hear your voice warning the king of the mirror’s power, that with patience and research it could be the key to turning his kingdom into an empire. You tell him that more relics exist across the span of the globe, some of them here on the continent of Markholm. You’re bargaining for your life, despite the fact that according to your very own honor code you no longer deserve it.

For some reason, the king lets you stay. You know this is more a strategic move on Septimus’ part than an act of mercy. You are hardly a free man. You yourself know that not all prisons have bars. Yours doesn’t, but you’re locked in a cage all the same. Your wild heart rails against your fate at first, but your tired body cannot keep up. You slowly resign yourself to your circumstances. You spend your day lamenting and licking wounds for months, giving Septimus advice through gritted teeth and refusing to recognize kindness from anyone around you. You are like a cornered dog, but you damn well know better than to bite the hand that feeds.

Slowly, the dagger in your heart loosens and you move through the stages of mourning your freedom, your crew, and your former life.  This doesn’t mean that your life in Tyrholm is easy, but you start to recognize areas of comfort. The Empress shows you a modicum of kindness, and you cling to it. The way you see it, the pair of you mean little more to each other than a pair of warm bodies at first, but it’s a momentary distraction the both of you welcome. The way your rough, calloused hands catch on the silk she seems herself to be spun from reminds you of your place, it stops you from being careless enough to leave fingerprints. You stop yourself from getting emotionally attached--no one ever accuses you of being a wise man, but you know better than to shit where you eat. The Moon gravitates in the perimeter of your attention, and you wonder what she wants from you, though she never seems to ask for much. The Sun also exists within your gravitational pull, though you wish she wouldn’t. You have nothing but enmity for her, an emotion you know is futile but that you can’t seem to put away.

The one thing you take seriously is your role as advisor. Septimus strikes you as mad and simple, a ruler grounded in dualism and individualism. Your belief in brotherhood and the collective clashes with Septimus’ harsh reign, but you can stomach it given your years spent under your father’s thumb. You yourself are never treated with particular cruelness after you are added as a member of the court. A part of you cares how everything shakes out, even though your body tells you it might give out before you see things through. Another part of you only cares about slowly convincing Septimus to give you a longer leash to try to convince him to dispatch you for one last adventure or two.

PLOT IDEAS:

You’ve Got Your Reputation and Your Good Intent (The Emperor): Feivel was not exactly a willing addition to the court. With death as the only alternative, joining up with Septimus looked like a good choice, but in the skeleton it doesn’t suggest that The Tower ever develops any sense of loyalty or admiration for King Septimus. In fact, in the connection section with Judgement, it suggests that The Tower finds the world they find themselves stuck within to be “horrible”. Given I want to incorporate captaining a ship as part of Feivel’s past, he would chalk up the state of the world to mediocre leadership. Further, The Tower is smack in the middle of the triangle depicting attitudes and loyalties. He doesn’t have much skin in the game, but he kind of gives a shit. I have to imagine that given their travels, The Tower would have a stronger concept than Septimus of how the other side lives, how people perceive things, of even surface level diplomacy, who seems to make decrees and decisions at a whim. Knowing that The Emperor is the next in line for the throne, I imagine The Tower would want to see the heir equipped with more of a holistic outlook rather than a self-interested, dualistic approach. While it sounds like Septimus is the one who likes to be regaled with stories of adventure and daring, I imagine Feivel might try to impart some sort of wisdom about different perspectives, universal truths, and interest in the plight of fellow man. The Emperor has probably never experienced life outside of the castle walls, certainly never outside of Tyrholm where many valuable lessons for a future ruler wait to be learned. But Feivel struggles with putting his meaning into words, he isn’t some educated member of the court, he’s a rogue in nice clothing. There is no underlying agenda aside from expanding the young heir’s worldview--but the danger of saying the wrong thing, of the slightest slip up in the tone of voice being read as a criticism of King Septimus makes the line between good intent and treason a tricky one to walk.

Suffer the Fools (The Moon): Feivel enjoys young people tremendously. Youth tends to couple with ambition and vigor. This is also part of why he even wants to bother trying to impress some of his lived experiences on The Emperor. Based on the connection written in The Moon’s bio, it seems like The Moon would be eager to listen to those very same stories. The Tower is depicted as a cache of information regarding other civilizations, the old gods, history, antiquities, magic, and tales of their own youth. I think in talking to The Moon about these stories and being listened to, a friendship would be forged and from that friendship, trust. Feivel understands thieves' code, he can pick up the dynamic in most any room he walks into, he knows history, he recognizes value when he sees it, navigation and survival in the wild is a given… but all of this was learned through oral tradition. Books were of little value on a ship, education wasn’t valued in his lifestyle. In his previous station, Feivel couldn’t have cared less, but now it’s developed into a soft spot. What does it say of a king if their antiquarian and unofficial advisor is illiterate? I think that if Feivel developed trust with The Moon, he would be willing to share this vulnerability asking them to write correspondence for him in a pinch and potentially how to read and write. I think this vulnerability might help lead The Moon to ask the questions they have about magic as discussed in The Moon’s connections.

All’s Fair in Love and War (The Empress): I am interested in exploring the connection listed in The Empress’ bio depicting the affair between The Empress and The Tower. It is not really mentioned in The Tower’s bio or in the main body of The Empress’ bio. I am interested in exploring Feivel’s motivations in this affair. Is there genuine affection that Feivel feels for The Empress, or does he see her as a pretty treasure of the king’s that makes for an interesting conquest? If there is genuine affection, how does he deal with the jealousy or perceived mistreatment of The Empress as a wife? Additionally, there could be a number of interesting consequences for the affair to deal with as far as jealousy, not being able to bit his tongue regarding Septimus’ attitude about his wife, or even the secret of the affair becoming more widespread. I think the affair could also complicate the way that some members of the court and group see Feivel. They could potentially misread the affair, whether it’s a matter of the convenience of the two just acting as warm bodies for one another or if it develops into a full blown emotional affair, as Feivel tries to step into a role of power or exploitation. It’s also some pretty damaging ammunition against him if he crosses the wrong person.

Mirror of Ouroborus (The Sun/The High Priestess): One of the things I would look forward to adding to Feivel’s character and the group as a whole is sort of building out the world with some mystical items. In this case, I think it could be fun to toy around with the item that landed Feivel on King Septimus’ agenda in the first place. This is a plot I would build out with either of the two more experienced necromancers. The item I have in mind for this plot point in particular would be called the Mirror of Ouroborus, an ancient, magical artifact the most of the world either doesn’t believe exists or has already forgotten. The mirror itself is a small, obsidian mirror that upon first consideration seems harmless if not impractical. However, upon looking in the mirror things begin to complicate. When looking in the mirror, it shows its user three truths. The first truth is easy to swallow: the reflection morphs into the user at the epitome of their potential, in their greatest state of glory. The second, the reflection morphs into what it is that stands in the way of those accomplishments, whether its an internal or external force. And third, it shows the essence of the user as they really are. Each of these reflections manifest as a simultaneous, momentary vision, but the mirror itself is dangerous. The lore surrounding the mirror depicts the third reflection driving everyone bold enough to stare into the mirror mad, incapable of swallowing the truth about themselves and the inherent flaws of humanity. However, who better to look into the mirror than someone numbed to even the most base emotion? Though it’s unlikely Septimus would put something as valuable as a master necromancer on the line for anything less than a guarantee. I would imagine in this plot, Feivel and either The Sun or the High Priestess would be tasked with unraveling the mystery of the Ouroborus Mirror for its eventual use.  

If You Stand For Nothing, What Will You Fall For (General): Check out the triangle of alignment and who is smack in the middle but The Tower? I think this presents a few interesting concepts. There are so many different components of the skeleton that could suggest many different ways for his allegiance to be pushed and pulled. If he has a personal rather than transactional relationship with The Empress, her alignment of general tolerance of King Septimus might pull him toward anxiously waiting out the king. Then again, it might have the opposite effect if Feivel ends up having very spiteful feelings about the Empress being stuck in the marriage. I envision most of the connections listed on the bio slowly dragging Feivel’s alignment toward the bottom left of the chart. I want to explore Feivel’s character with a moral alignment of true neutral as well, which I think would create a lot of interesting dynamics given Feivel seems to be starting from a place of general neutrality as well. I would be very interested in seeing what, if anything, could radicalize Feivel given his starting point.

Through Terra Incognita: Feivel is not exactly a member of the court by choice, but rather quick wit and Septimus’ whim. I would argue that Feivel sees himself more as a prisoner of the court than actually free. He was brought to the court by force, and he’s essentially kept there out of fear of the Sun. Sure, there are perks. He probably is all about that food, a nice bed, fancy clothes, and a comfortable place to rest his tired bones… but just because he wanted a rest doesn’t mean he isn’t restless. It might be interesting to have Feivel be dispatched by Septimus to retrieve some sort of treasure or antiquity with another character or maybe even two. This item could potentially be central to the plot if it interests you to invest in the plot in that way. I think this could be an interesting way to interact with Judgement (religious relic?), or potentially The Hermit or Strength. However, I’d be happy to make this plot work with whoever might be interested even if they aren’t listed there. Fievel is probably incredibly eager to go on any sort of adventure and get out of the city, so he would jump at the chance to go on such a quest, even if he clashed with his travel companion every step of the way.

Brave, Intrepid, and Then Some: If you do not recognize the lyrics used as titles (here and the plot point above), the song “The Trail We Blaze” from Dreamwork’s masterpiece The Road to El Dorado is big inspiration vibes for Feivel and his adventurous side. He knows he is never going to be the marauder he was before his years in Tyrholm, but there’s a spark in him that can’t quite go out. I think something to feed into this, and his general world knowledge, would be to develop a sort of “wonders of the world” for Markholm. Something I think that might be interesting to do is to pick a few characters and try to create artifacts, locations, etc. that are sort of drawn from or inspired by these characters. Perhaps they would not be significant to the plot, but I think it could be a fun concept to build out Feivel’s experiences.

CHARACTER DEATH: I think given some of the pies he’s stuck/will stick his finger in there’s a pretty real chance he might piss off the wrong people eventually (Septimus, Reynaud, Naenia given his fear of her) whether that be by him making a false move or his affair moving from a bit of an open secret to a full blown scandal. Also, he’s lived a rugged life, which I’m sure has taken a toll. Given the parameters you’ve set up to support players if there’s a character death and the context of this character I’m comfortable with it.

WRITING SAMPLE

Another restless night, and Feivel found himself roaming the halls of Castle Tyrholm with the company of his faithful hound, Gunport, at his side. It was the sound of the wind whistling outside his sleeping chamber’s window that kept a good night’s sleep at bay, the sound reminding him of those wind whipped days out at sea that built him into the man he was now.  He lobbed a ball down the corridor lazily and got some mild entertainment watching the hairy beast chase after it with gusto before bounding back to its master’s side and pushing the slobbery toy into his hand. But even the momentary distraction couldn’t hold back the feelings that he was now more a ruin than a man.

His father had died valiantly in battle, though the skirmish itself could have been avoided by better planning. Even so, his father had died with his reputation intact, ruthless to the end. Feivel himself had quickly built his own mythos around himself, even if it was not as cruel as his father’s. He knew the Clan Asturias had gained a measure of renown, enough for King Septimus to know of their accomplishments, and as the captain of the ship Feivel himself was the figurehead of the legend. On nights like this, he would retract his steps and try to pinpoint the exact moment he had gotten too far ahead of himself or too comfortable. He knew what his father would say, that his downfall was the direct result of trusting anyone but himself. Some nights, Feivel felt that conclusion was correct. On other nights, he surmised that his fate was inevitable. For years, he had wondered how legends were brought to their knees. Now he knew he was little more himself than some exotic game King Septimus had cornered and would eventually mount on his wall like the other trophy animals in Castle Tyrholm’s gun room.

The candlelight flickered from further down the hall, and both Feivel and Gunport stood aware, their two sets of wild eyes pointing in the direction of the disturbance. He wondered vaguely if someone else was being kept awake by the ghosts of their past, or if perhaps it might have been the growing sense of restlessness that had been building behind closed doors and in whispered conversations throughout the castle. He had only been a member of the court for a handful of months, but he knew what the early stages of insurrection looked like. This was something he altogether aimed to avoid, more than convinced that the king would be able to put an end to any treason before it truly started.

It surprised him to see the queen passing through the hall, and for a moment he felt his presence was inappropriate. Life in Tyrholm had come with a healthy dose of culture shock, to say the least. He had cleaned up well, this was true, but he knew he was far from noble. His manners had provided ample fodder to mock him in his first months in the court, and the stiff clothing he had been given felt like it choked him. Perhaps it was his station in his office that made him feel most like the butt of a cruel joke, the books that lined the shelves and his pot of ink and paper virtually useless. He had wondered for a while how long King Septimus would humor him after he realized his master of antiquities couldn’t so much as write his own name. Luckily enough, he had proven himself entertaining enough to listen to that when he was called upon it was almost exclusively in person. Whenever the need to write was unavoidable, it was no trouble to intimidate a servant or page into writing it for him. It took little more than a menacing glare and the simple lie that he preferred to dictate his response rather than be saddled with the chore of writing his message himself.

As The Empress approached, Feivel bowed. It was practiced to look natural, as if he’d been bowing to monarchy all his life rather than copying the other members of court over the past few months. He also took grain pains to make the motion as fluid as possible despite the strain it caused his lower back. “Your Majesty,” he greeted, “I apologize for disturbing you this evening.” He tossed the ball away again, figuring someone of her stature had little interest in being near such a creature. The dog took off again after the ball, springing clumsily down the long hall.

“It’s quite alright,” Queen Calliope responded in a muted voice. She lifted a slim, graceful hand that caught the moonlight as she gestured before them. “Perhaps you would walk with me?”

Before Feivel had much opportunity to respond, Gunport had asserted himself into the situation. The dog pressed the ball into the palm of the queen’s hand, wet nose, slobber, and all. It was the habit of a well trained dog to return whatever it was fetching directly into the hand of it’s master, but Gunport was friendly and apparently wanted to extend the invitation to play to the queen herself. Embarrassed by what he assumed was poor manners, Feivel became somewhat nervous and hoped to escape the interaction without insulting Queen Calliope. He turned his attention from her hand to her face to respond, but his answer was delayed slightly as he observed her unassuming beauty; the smoothness of her skin, her piercing dark eyes, the way her silk-like dark hair framed her face and swept against her shoulders, and the delicate shape and hue of her lips. He was a man who recognized finery when he saw it, and what held more value than the wife of a king?

“Another night,” he mumbled, staring at the toe of his boot rather than in her eye. His voice was gruff, a bit terse as a force of habit. “When I don’t have the hound with me.”

Accepting his answer, the queen lifted her hand to pass the ball back to Feivel. He extended his hand, accepting it from her, unintentionally brushing his fingers against the back of her hand. The contrast between the two did not escape him, his own hand rough with work next to her unmarred skin. Her skin was smooth and cool compared to the warmth and calluses of his own hand. He let the touch linger for a moment before his eyes met her own. She didn’t seem disturbed by the touch, which even if unintentional was an insult to her station. Queen Calliope placed the ball in his open hand before bidding him goodnight with a soft, amused smile. “Another time then, Feivel. May the Undying One bring you safely to another day.”

“Another time then,” Feivel repeated, holding the ball up as if it were some secret known only to the pair as he walked backward toward his quarter. He tossed the ball over his shoulder with a roguish grin, his eyes trained on Queen Calliope. Only when she turned his back on him to continue on her way did he turn away from her.

EXTRAS

I want to plot out what the affair looked like, from start to current state, with The Empress’ player, so I’m not taking my writing sample as gospel. It just seemed like the most natural thing to write because I think the connection with another person in Tyrholm he established with The Empress was probably a turning point in his mourning process/ability to accept his current station as basically a glorified prisoner in Castle Tyrholm and to engage more with others.

Inspiration Blog (There are three pages, you gotta click the last little dot with a sort of square to get to the next page)

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 38 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 38 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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“Lady, your watch is over.”

“Oi know t’at, Forst Officer Karas.  We ‘ave special orders from t’e Ca’tain.  Send a runner t’ assemble t’e wotch.”  She seized the wrist of the watch-drummer as he was about to beat ‘Assembly.’

“We are still under silence.  Go, bring t’em all.  Quietly.  Nae so muckle as a shout.  Lookoots t’.”  One look at the cold gray eyes lit by the shielded watch lamp convinced him.  He went swiftly and silently.  Only a bit more creaking from the rigging told of sailors going up to get the high lookouts and bring them down.  Men and women were assembling before the quarter-deck.

Shortly, the entire watch was assembled.  They had got the idea that silence was needed and waited for her to speak.

“We are changing t’e protocol o’ orders.  T’e drums’re t’ be silenced.  Nae shouting.  Orders’ll be delivered by runner.  We are doubling t’e lookoots.  Ane’ll run messages.  Utter silence’s essential.   Does ever’ane understand t’is?”

A nervous sailor, nameless in the crowd said, “Clear, Ma’am, but for one thing.  Why?”

“We ‘ad a mutiny.” The shocked looks that this simple statement caused made her clarify, “Direct orders were willfully disobeyed.  An innocent person, nae o’ t’e Grandalor wa’ murdered in circumstances t’at implicate most o’ t’e ship. Soon t’ere’ll be a ‘unt up, ‘ence t’e silence.  Anyt’in’ more’ll ‘ave t’ come from t’e Ca’tain ‘imsel’.  Oi understand t’at ‘e’ll address t’e ‘ole crew tomorrow morning.

“Lookoots: rig bosun’s chairs from t’e ‘ighest points o’ masthead t’at can be reached.  We need all t’e warning t’at we can get.

“Each mast crew an’ t’e jibs, choose runners t’ stay ‘ere an’ return t’ yer stations.  Be ready for a major course change. Go!”

The course change was done with only the sound of rigging creaking and protesting as the sails were set for the new course.  The Grandalor heeled over on her new tack and the rhythm of the waves driven asunder by her bows changed.  Tanlin pointed out a constellation to the helmswoman.

“Make due for t’at group o’ stars.  We Arrakans call t’at constellation ‘t’e Fangs.’  W’at do ye folk call ‘t?”

The woman did not pause from hauling on the steering tackle to set the course exactly as she answered, “Near enough the same.  That’s the Dragon’s Jaws.”

“T’ank ye.  Let t’e next wotch know t’at Oi’ll be up t’ tell t’em o’ any change or even t’at t’ere’s nae change.”

“Very good, Ma’am.”  The helmswoman finished trimming their course and added, “Permission to speak frankly?”

Tanlin scanned the tidy decks and rig of the big square-rigger to be sure of their privacy before answering.  “Speak, an’ t’at wit’oot fear.  Ye are Dragon safe in m’ ‘ands.”

“Strange expression that.  Arrakan?”

Tanlin checked their course and, satisfied responded, “Aye.  W’at ye say ends ‘ere.  Oi’ll neither reveal ‘t wit’oot yer permission nae ‘old ‘t against ye.”

The helmswoman made a minute adjustment as the wind changed a tiny bit. “I saw you look about the ship before answering.  What did you see?”

Mystified, Tanlin answered, “W’at should Oi see?  A neat an’ well run ship. I’ t’ere a point t’ t’is?”

“It will be clear in a moment.  The Grandalor has always been a ship of last resort.  The refuge of those in need of a last chance.  Few of us came eagerly.  Many of us, myself included, owe our very lives to this ship.  We were not a happy crew and she has not been a happy ship.  That changed some Wohans back.

“You’ve never seen the Grandalor as anything but shipshape.  Do you know when it became a neat, well run ship?  It began when your cousin was chosen as Barad’s cabin-girl.  She was one of those who dove to survey the wreck of the Princamorn.  She was made Captain’s cabin-girl only a few weeks after your ship was wrecked.   Nobody expected her to live for very long after that, or ever to see her again.  Barad’s cabin-girls used to disappear.

“While you lay in that coma, Kurti had an effect on the Captain that nobody else ever had.  It was a good effect for all of us, in small ways. We started to be more ship-shape because she got the Captain to pay more favorable attention to our work.

“She was allowed freedom of the ship, and to go armed.  No cabin-girl and few of the crew ever before had such freedoms!  Only she, Barad and Doctor Corin knew that she was dying.

“Kurti got a treatment resistant case of lung parasites when she dove on the Princamorn.”  The helmswoman shuddered at the memory.  “That’s an awful way to go.  Barad himself carried her to sickbay the morning of her final attack.  We’re pretty sure that he loved her even though they could never have married.   We really thought he’d go mad from grief.

“I was right here at the tiller tackle when the Orca Whale came and sang for her.  It was so weird.  It sang and jumped for over two hours.  I guess that Dark Iren sent it to give you to us when he took her.  

“You know how the Captain watched over your recovery.  What you don’t seem to know is that you continued the good that Kurti started. That’s what is important to us all.  We in the crew are glad for you both.

“You and Kurti looked so much alike that you were mistaken for her when you were brought aboard,” Darkistry paused and admired the rising of swift little Dorac, setting the sea to glittering orange flame with it’s early light.  “Nobody that knows you for ten minutes can mistake you for her.  It’s been discussed, gossiped about and dropped.

“I did say that things were better in small ways.  Happiness doesn’t come from a big thing.  It’s the pile of little things.  We’re happy now and proud of our ship.

“The whole Night, all three watches, voted to tell you this.  We’d reserved the main square at the Gathering so that we could all do this for you both.  In public for all to see.”

She dropped to one knee, held out her hands, palm up.  Tanlin, guessing what was coming, held out hers, palm down and clasped the woman’s hands.  The helmswoman said steadily, in spite of obvious emotion, “I, Darkistry Colm Grinna, now of the Grandalor alone, pledge myself to the Captain, Barad, the Lady Tanlin, and the Grandalor, my Ship.  Behind me in this oath stand the whole of all three Night-Watches.  We shall bear no other name but Grandalor.”

“Oi hope ye forgive m’,” said Tanlin, near choking on the lump of joy in her throat, “but Oi must say t’at Oi donnae belong in such an oath.  ‘T should be t’ t’e Ca’tain alone.”

Darkistry said thoughtfully, “We considered that.  You can’t navigate without both sea and sky.  It’s the two of you who make this ship work.  It must be both or naught.  We have not forgotten that even at his worst, Barad stood by us and gave us a ship and a chance.  With your coming we got pride as well.  We will not let the two of you down in your need.  We will stand by you to Iren’s Halls.”

Tanlin took a deep breath and said, “T’en Oi must take yer oath as tis dune in t’e Arrakan fleet, ‘oose custom Oi know,” and she took Darkistry’s hands into a different grip, so that neither had a hand above the other.  “For m’ Ca’tain, Barad Maks Grandalor an’ m’sel’, Tanlin Miken Princamorn, Oi take yer oath.  Yer life’ll be as safe in our ‘ands as t’e Dragons allow.  Ye are now adopted t’ t’is ship, nae only signed on as crew, but given an’ freely taking ‘ts name.

“T’ese ‘ands are equal, Oi nae ‘igher, nae ye lower.  Toget’er, we are ane ship.  Stand wit’ m’.”

Darkistry looked into Tanlin’s face and saw tears of joy limned by the pale light of Dorac now clear of the horizon.  She stood.

“Oi must tell t’e Ca’tain, an’ Log t’is event.  Oi’m glad t’ know ye, Darkistry Colm Grandalor.”

“Will you go find Mister Karas first?  Just say, ‘It is done.’  He will know what you mean.”

“Oi’ll do ’t.  ‘E’s up by t’e mizzen mast,” said Tanlin, going forward.  She found First Officer Karas in conversation with his second officer, Mikalat.  She touched his shoulder and said, “Tis dune.”

He began to kneel but she stopped him with a gentle hand.

“Give yer oath t’ t’e Ca’tain ‘imsel’, tomorrow.  T’ere’ll be a general assembly o’ t’e crew t’ explain w’at’s ‘appened. ‘E’ll be glad o’ t’e support.”

Back in their cabin, Barad noticed that Tanlin was not coming to bed.  She was busily preparing papers and striking names from the watch-book and Log.

“What are you doing, Tanlin?  It is far too late to be faking papers. Falsehood cannot get us out of this mess.”

“Ye ’ave been t’e master o’ t’at art,” she smiled at him. “‘Owever, t’ere’s nae false ‘ere.  Only trut’.  T’will gladden ye t’ know t’at all t’ree o’ t’e night-wotches ‘ave just been adopted an’ sworn t’ ye and m’.  T’ese parchments are t’ confirm t’e fact.”

Barad’s brow furrowed.  “All of them?  That’s nearly a third of the crew. How did it happen and how did you get into their oath?”

“Luve,” she said gravely, “t’ey were goin’ t’ do ‘t in public at t’e Gat’ering.  Wen t’at became impossible, t’ey deputed t’e ‘elmswumon, Darkistry, t’ swear for t’em all.  Oi protested bein’ in t’e oath but t’ey wad ‘ave ‘t nae ot’er way. Said ‘t wa’ t’e twa o’ us ‘ad made t’em a ‘appy ship.”

“Perhaps I have undervalued their happiness.  I have never had anything like this happen before …” he trailed away in thought.

“‘Appiness’s a ‘ard t’ing t’ calculate,” she responded calmly turning back to her documents.

TO BE CONTINUED

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[ixchel-sketch]

TITLE: Palehuiloca / Ayudar 

GENRE: Crime & Romance

FANDOM: Mayans M.C.

SHIP(S): Coco & Original Female Character 

STATUS: Complete

LENGTH: 5,291 words

Set while Coco is still a prospect. One of his first orders is to help newly full patched members Angel and Gilly locate a corrupt drug dealer at a local music festival. He never expected to meet Maya.

It was early in the evening when the headlights of bikes cut through the light of the setting sun and three members of the local motorcycle club were waved into the festival without so much as a second glance from security. All manner of people were attending, most of them on their way towards inebriation in some form of another. Johnny “Coco” Cruz looked around at the various stages set up in the large canyon, the sounds of whatever concert was currently playing blasted through the state park. Competing for the attention of the crowds of people weaving their way from one set to another. A couple that looked to be barely out of their teens stumbled by and nearly bumped into Coco had he not been hyper focused on his surroundings.

“Jesus, would you look at this place.” Angel’s dark eyes followed after them, noting the way the couple wove and leaned on each other in support. To the average attendee they seemed to be in the depths of young love, laughing and showering displays of affection no matter how inappropriate. To anyone with experience it was obvious they were high off their asses.

“That’s why we’re here isn’t it? Marcus said that we needed to smoke out some dealer. “ Gilberto “Gilly” Lopez adjusted the thick leather vest that all three of them wore, squinting out at the crowd in observation.

“For selling on Mayan terf?”

Coco finally came back to the conversation, a little bit confused on why they would be put on something that seemed to have nothing to do with the club. As a prospect, there weren't many orders that he was in a position to question. It helped that he and Angel had roomed together right before he'd patched in. He trusted him, which was something he hadn't experienced much before.

"There's been an uptick in overdoses. Someones cutting their shit and it makes the M.C. look bad. Since most assume that's where it's coming from." Now it made sense. It would definitely hurt their business and possibly gain unwanted attention from authorities if the main take away from the music festival was the amount of narcan used.

But how the hell were they supposed to find that needle in this shitshow of a haystack? The longer they stood idly by the entrance the worse that he began to feel about this whole thing. There were only three of them there and too many unknowns. They had no idea how serious this guy was or if they had their own crew. Paranoia leeched some of the stoic strength that usually radiated from Coco. No, crowded and booming festivals were definitely not his thing.

"We should split up," Coco scowled at Gilly's suggestion but all of them nodded in agreement nonetheless. "Cover more ground that way. Look for anyone buying or dealing. "

Maya had been attending music festivals since before she knew how to talk. She’d grown up dressed in tie dye onesies and been lulled to sleep by the sound of amature drum circles. It was a lifestyle that she knew like the back of her hand and the road between each destination felt just as much home as the stops between. All she really needed in order to be happy was the RV that she’d inherited from her father and enough gas and savings to keep making her art in comfort. Not many people seemed to understand her need for near constant travel and freedom, much less stick around.

Today had been different though. Slow, and while the general guests were perfectly content with the food vendors and alcohol sales, not too many had stopped through her booth and made actual purchases. Only in the last hour had there been a wave of people walking around and buying different trinkets and goods that she’d made. The increase in sales usually took up all of her attention. Mental energy split between being conversational and likeable as a vendor and keeping an eye out to make sure no one lifted anything. She supposed that was another reason for not wanting to be tied down --- maintaining a fake sociable mask for longer than a couple hours at a time was down right exhausting. With a heavy sigh Maya got up from her chair and stretched as tall as she could. It wasn’t very tall.

Finally she noticed a man standing with his back to the corner of her booth and steeled herself to once again paste on a fake smile. It wasn’t unusual for a potential customer to spend time just staring at a piece… but with a hint of concern she realized that wasn’t what he was doing. Dark eyes were focused intensely out at the crowd and she tried not to flinch when that gaze was turned on her. “Hey, can I help you?”

“What? No, I’m uh- good thanks.” He didn’t look good, warm brown skin having taken on a slightly pallid complexion. The man looked spooked, bordering on shaken and even though she knew better than to reach out something on Maya’s face must have given away her confusion and he rushed to explain. “It was just really loud, I couldn’t even hear myself think.”

“ You want some water?” Before he could answer the brunette was ducking behind a table to grab a metal thermos that was still chilly from her ice run earlier. He accepted it and she couldn’t bring herself to look away from the way his adam apple moved when he took a drink or the stray bead of water that escaped the corner of Coco’s lips. Maya licked her own subtly and subconsciously before adding, “Yeah, festivals can be a lot. I lucked out this year and my booth got placed opposite of the concert field. Shitty for sales though.”

When he handed her back the thermos her fingers brushed against his, releasing butterflies in her stomach and Maya tried her best to brush it off. Coco seemed to finally notice the different posters and jewelry that decorated the tables and his eyebrows rose, fingers ghosting over the designs pressed into leather bracelets. “All this stuff is yours? You made it?”

She nods, a natural grin spreading across full lips. There were few things that she carried a fair amount of pride about, her art being one of them. “Claro que si, Well, except for the bones, those I get from hunters and collectors. Same for the crystals.”

His hand fell away and Coco nodded. Something about the way that he was looking at the merch had Maya relaxing a bit, casting a glance back towards where people were clearing the man made path that separated the music from the vendors to herd themselves into a new performance. There probably wouldn't be anyone else wandering through her booth for a few hours at least.

“ It’s really tight, the detail in the designs is crazy.”

“Thank you. My name’s Maya.” She expected the blink of confusion that followed.

“Sorry, what?”

“Just call me Maya.” Another nod and from the way that Coco’s shoulders sag just a bit she can tell he’s starting to relax too. Whether it's because of the compliment that he’d given her work or just a sudden craving for more substantial human interaction, Maya made up her mind and opened the canopy flap that led to where her RV was parked behind the booth. “I was planning on taking a little break -- para fumar. You wanna join me?”

Finally a genuine smile touches the other’s eyes as Coco replies “I’m always good for a smoke.”

She led Coco back to the small table pulled under the awning and sat down in a rusted lawn chair, motioning for him to do the same. It creaked under his weight and she couldn’t help but offer a slightly embarrassed smile while retrieving the glass jar from a leather satMaya hanging over her shoulder. The inside of the glass was so coated in crystals and weed dust that it was hard to make out the details of the small buds jostled within. “So is this your first festival in awhile?”

“Yeah, you could say that. Probably my first.”

“No shit?” Maya passed Coco the ornately blown glass piece she’d been gifted some time back. It was surprising to find how easy conversation was to have with him as the two began to talk about their interests. Music was the easiest shared denominator, with Maya’s tastes being basically anything that isn’t outright offensive or problematic. But slowly the two started to talk about more personal stuff as well. They came from vastly different backgrounds but somehow nothing seemed to get lost in translation, the time passed faster than either had realized and before she knew it the light was just starting to fade from the sky. Their shadows stretching out in the grass before them and tinting the campsite in a pretty orange.

“So you like to go it alone?” The conversation had circled back to her and Maya rolled her shoulders in a relaxed shrug.

“I’m still only twenty fuckin�� three. And I’m picky as hell, hanging around musicians all the time you know. I’m not just some fuckin’ groupie.”

Coco held up his hands and hissed as if he’d touched something hot, “I got you, my bad.”

She deflated and ran a hand through messy dark waves. As much as she loved the freedom, sometimes loneliness did creep into her life and forced Maya to examine what she really wanted… but she wouldn’t know how to settle down even if she tried. “No it’s on me. My shit. Sorry, dude.”

He nodded, accepting the apology for her snappy response before his cell phone went off and drew Coco’s attention away from the company. With a sinking feeling he realized he’d missed out on the reason they were originally there. All he could do was hope that Angel or Gilly had found something to take back to El Padrino. “Yeah? I’ll be there.”

Maya waited a moment before speaking up, unable to hide the curiosity in her voice. “Those the guys you’re here with? Tus hermanos?”

Coco stood up and fixed the lawn chair, which had sagged so that the seat of it was brushing the ground. She moved to follow him and he offered her a hand to help Maya to her feet. They stood close for a moment while she regained her balance, so close she could smell him and it caused the hair to rise on the back of her neck and heat to coil in her stomach. Shit. Taking a step back, she brushed off her clothes and tried to meet his eyes when Coco replied; “Yeah , sort of. Better than any family I was born with. Even all that shit they say about brothers in arms in the military ain’t nothin like what the M.C. is.”

Dark brows furrowed and Maya pieced together what he meant, not having much experience with bikers outside of slightly unpleasant gas station exchanges. “So you’re here with guys who are also in your...motorcycle club?”

That seemed to make Coco laugh and shake his head while grabbing a cigarette from the box in his vest pocket. Before he could fumble around for his lighter she managed to fish hers out of her pocket, holding it out to him. “Yeah,” He took a drag and made sure to blow it away from where she stood. “We’re actually here trying to pick up. I don’t know if you use anything harder..”

A deep frown creased her face and she gave Coco a subtle once over, as though potentially seeing him in a different light. “Oh...No I uhm, I don’t. That shit’s gotten kind of dangerous.”

He looks equally relieved and she can’t help but be a bit confused. “Good, I mean, I don’t neither. Not like that.”

Coco’s done his share of hard partying and drugs, been addicted and managed to come to terms with his limits. Something in the way that he holds himself lets Maya know that she can believe him, that he’s not just back peddling in order to save face. She nods and goes to untie the opening of her booth to let people know she’s once again open for business --- and to allow Coco to exit into the main crowd.

“Because I’ve seen some people be taken off the grounds for OD’s...it’s depressing shit.” Mostly it was just people who attended but every once and awhile a musician or vendor would end up getting an ambulance called. It was always sad, especially if it was someone that she’d see at a few different venues and become somewhat friendly with.

“See that’s why we’re trying to find the guy selling this shit... stop it from getting into the community.”

Her expression changed to one of surprise before a full bottom lip slipped between her teeth in mild indecision. She was sick of seeing people taken advantage of in her community, at least Coco’s gang was doing something about it. “...I could help, maybe? Talk to the other vendors and see if they’ve seen anything. Are you guys camping out or are you coming back tomorrow?”

She hoped that they were, handing Coco one of the cards that she kept on display so that he might be able to get in contact with her again. Dark eyes tracked the motion of him slipping it into his pocket, her own hands fumbling awkwardly. Coco’s phone buzzed again and she could tell from his reaction it was probably his guys asking where he was.

“We’ll be back. I’ll hit you up.”

He returned to where their bikes were being looked after with a much lighter heart, both from the conversation and finding a potential lead. Gilly was tempted to stay a bit longer and as much as Coco wanted to agree it was obvious to both him and Angel that had much more to do with the actual festival than the club’s interests. Angel was disappointed in the lack of concrete evidence and it showed in his scowl and furrowed brow.

“Damn man. Everyone’s high but it just seems like a bunch of fuckin hippies.” He grumbled, looking either Coco or Gilly in the hopes that they found something of more use.

“I saw someone get carried out but it could have been heat stroke. No one else around.”

Angel turned to Coco, “ What about you? Any luck?”

In no rush to admit that he’d wasted most of his time blowing off their orders to talk to some chick, he kept his answer clipped. “Yeah...maybe.”

The internal conflict caused him to stiffen when Angel’s hand landed on his shoulder in camaraderie. But the other Mayan only seemed encouraged by Coco’s admission, wrinkling his nose before stepping back to mount his ride. “Shit, you smell like skunk.”

The night went by uneventfully despite Maya’s best attempts to find any of her connections that might have an idea what was going on or who was dealing. None of her artisan contacts had any interest in exploring those kinds of narcotics and had a similar reaction to the one that she had earlier. Only after explaining why she was looking for the illicit substance did their judgement lessen. Eventually, after making sure to put the word out that she was interested in trying something different (as a ruse to lure out the dealer) Maya was forced to give up and go to sleep with the hopes that the next day would bring better luck.

And whether it was her own self manifestation or the will of the gods, after spending most of the next day with her attention split between selling her goods and looking out for any nefarious activity her first lead appeared. Half way through the day someone was taken from the medic tent looking half dead but no one seemed to know much about it. Coco messaged her, checking in to see if she had found anything. All of the texts were very...Friendly. They joked back and forth just as much as talking (if not more) than about what was happening at the festival. By the time she did hear back from one of her contacts -- a time and place to meet the person who was selling smack, Maya was too excited about having a legitimate reason to see Coco again than to think through all of the potential consequences of going to the meet.

With her booth closed up and cellphone slipped into the back of her pocket, Maya headed to the spot in the back of the general campsite. It wasn’t too far from her where she was vending but definitely far enough from the security spots and exits to be inconspicuous. The man waiting for her was tall and spindly, the dark cliche hoodie he wore nearly hung off of him with how loose it was. His greeting smile felt lewd, red rimmed eyes focusing on the naked skin of her legs for far longer than she was comfortable with. A sinking feeling started to build in her gut but Maya decided to ignore it.

“So I heard you were looking to pick up ?”

She froze, a small frown working its way onto her face. Even when she wanted so hard to play it cool.“Well, not me, my friend was interested…”

“And where’s your friend?”

The tone of his voice made the hair rise on the back of her neck and Maya looked around to see if there was anyone else nearby. The sound of music playing could be heard even from the distance of the campground and she knew better than to hope there would be anyone loitering there instead of watching a band. “He’s meeting up with me later.”

“Your boyfriend?” The man took a step forward, reaching out to pick up a strand of her long dark hair. At this distance she could make out the details of his pockmarked cheeks and nearly gasped at the memory of his face disappearing into the crowd after the EMT’s had taken away the person hours earlier. Maya’s heart started to race and muscles froze into place with the rise of panic. It was a challenge to take the answering step back, only to find that there was a tent flush behind her back.

“No, just a friend. So can I uhm, can I get the stuff?” Her anxiety to leave was building but Maya didn’t want to take off without at least getting some proof to show Coco that she had found the guy.

“Of course baby, why? You in a hurry?” She watched as his hand made contact with her arm, the other one going to grab her hip almost forcefully to try and drag Maya closer. The grip should have been strong enough to bruise but she couldn’t feel anything beyond the shock. Her dark eyes go wide and it takes a few quick breaths to work past the fear.

“Yeah actually I just need to… can you-- Hey!”

The sun had already set by the time that the Mayans rolled back up to the festival. Coco once again had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach though this time it was for a different reason than being triggered by the crowd. He’d been texting Maya most of the day but in the last hour she had stopped without warning. And when they got to her booth it was closed up and deserted, most of the vendors having shut down by then. Gilly gave a look around before sending Coco a sympathetic shrug. “You sure she was supposed to meet you here bro?”

“It looks pretty empty.” Angel agreed.

“Yeah man this is her spot.” He didn’t like this feeling at all. Like a coil of stress winding tighter and tighter at his core, a rubber band stretched to the breaking point. What he wouldn’t give for it to just be his fucked up mind playing tricks on him again. Just when he was about to finally dismiss it a feminine shout echoed through the space. “ Shit!”

Maya had her eyes pressed tightly closed as the heat of the stranger pressed against her caused sickening chills. Her heart raced so loud that anything that was coming out of his mouth was lost to the rushing noise in her ears. A spell or curse that was caused by paralyzing panic and only when his hand moved from her back to ghost over the curve of Maya’s ass did it break enough for her to scream.

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, ASSHOLE!” Her arms came up to push him away, gasping in surprise when at the same time someone grabbed him by the back of the neck and yanked him back. The motion was too quick, but the line of Coco’s back could be seen as he pinned the dealer to the ground and laid blow after blow to the man’s face. After a few minutes Angel pulled him off, pushing Coco away so that he could catch his breath and pull himself together after unleashing all that rage.

Maya jumped when she realized there was someone standing behind her with their hand on her shoulder, large dark eyes looking up at Gilly and he released her and took a step back to give the shaken woman some space. “You good? “

Her answering nod was a little too quick to be believable but no one called her out on it. “ Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

“Is this the guy?” Angel nodded towards the bloody heap on man on the ground, still standing between him and Coco though Gilly moved closer to help lift the suspect.

“I don’t know, I know he sells. And he was hanging around someone who OD’d earlier.”

Their expressions went tight and she received a nod, Coco finally walking back over to them and muttering something in Angel’s direction. “ We’ll talk to him.”

While Angel and Gilly dragged the unconscious man back towards their bikes, Maya turned her attention back to Coco, finally noting the way his lips had pulled down into a sour scowl. She had a feeling that a large part of it had to do with her and a knot of guilt formed in her stomach. He started to turn back towards the exit of the festival, about to leave without saying a word and before she realized it Maya was reaching out to gently wrap her hand around his bicep. “ Do you wanna come back to my RV? Get a drink?”

He looked at her hand for a long minute, still not able to meet her eyes even after she let go. “...Okay, sure.”

Neither of them spoke on the way back to where her RV was parked. The tension was nearly palpable and she pulled out a beer from the cooler typically reserved for guests and passed it to Coco. Her eyes lingered on how his fingers were wrapped around the neck of the bottle, knuckles red and bruised from impact. While he opened it she went about unlocking the 1990 Winnebago so that they might be able to talk with some semblance of privacy. The comfort of her mobile home was a soothing balm against all of the excitement and chaos she’d been involved in. Maya deftly opened some cabinets and removed a half finished bottle of tequila and dusty shot glass.

“You know what you did earlier? Was pretty stupid.”

When she looks up from preparing her drink Coco is staring at her intently. “...Excuse me?”

The incredulity in her voice sets him off and Coco pushes away from where he’d been leaning against the narrow counter to loom over her. Now she can tell that she’d seriously misunderstood something earlier as he looks...actually angry. The bottle is forgotten behind him and his chin raises, a defensive posture if she’d ever seen one. “That guy could have pulled a knife, or a gun. Then what?”

She hadn’t thought about if that had happened, but she had a feeling saying that out loud wouldn’t help her case. In an attempt at levity, Maya forced a smirk and tilted her head in faux innocence. “Get shot, I guess?”

It doesn’t help. His brows draw together and his tone raises which causes her to reel back. It only now occurs to her that she doesn’t actually know him that well or what he’s capable of in anger. “What the fuck kind of thinking is that? Eres una pinche idiota?”

Maya’s gaze drops to the floor and her shoulders sag in defeat. She can tell that the reaction is one out of concern for her wellbeing but she doesn’t have a clue on how to fix things. With a heavy sigh she rubs a hand across her face. “I just wanted to help,” Coco continues to look at her, and his expression softens just a bit in acceptance. “ ...You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

Coco is still standing close enough that if she were to lean forward it wouldn’t take much effort at all to place a kiss on his chin. The thought taunting her almost as much as the way that his voice dips an octave and ridiculously long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. “ Next time just call me, yeah?”

A hopeful smile pulls at full lips and she rocks forward on her heels so that their chests are nearly touching. “Next time?”

“That’s not what I ...shit, I just mean,” His eyes are locked on her lips and the atmosphere of the confined space in the RV has changed with their mood. The air is heavy and she closes the distance between them in an obvious invitation, one of her hands splaying flat on his chest where the patch meets the leather of his vest. Coco’s eyes grow even darker if possible.

“It’s cool. I got you.” There are no expectations as he wraps an arm around her waist and pulls Maya into a hungry kiss. It’s not soft or gentle and she matches his pace eagerly. The hand on his chest snakes around to stroke over the hair at the base of his neck and one of his rakes up the tank top she’s wearing in order to cup her breast. His other arm is pulling her closer still, passion completely unleashed and Maya is forced to break away in a gasp of pleasure when Coco’s leg parted hers and pressed the lines of their bodies against one another until she could feel the tent forming against her hip.

In an act of rare dexterity she managed to turn them so that her back is facing the hallway. It’s far too great a sacrifice to pull away from him or the way that Coco is running his hands along her body. He follows her until the back of her knees press against the mattress and helps to lower her down, wet kisses trailing from her mouth to the column of her throat.

His touch lights her nerves on fire and Maya sighs into the kiss, opening her mouth so that he can take advantage and wind his tongue against hers. Once the heavy leather vest is dropped on the corner of the bed she removes her shirt and pulls Coco back down on top of her. His hands roam and grope her torso while the warm weight of his hips pin her down and roll against her. “Que quieres?”

“Don’t st…keep going.” It’s all the encouragement that he seems to need before Coco is slipping her jean shorts and underwear off her legs and placing nips and kisses along Maya’s hips. It’s a quick tease before her returns to place a kiss on her swollen lips. The fabric of his button up shirt rubs against her chest and she manages to slide her hands beneath it and the thin wife beater under that. They're both in too much of a hurry to really focus on removing each other’s clothes entirely. It’s a \victory just to be able to get a few of the small buttons undone as Coco unfastens his belt to slide his pants down his hips.

“Oh...fuck.” The unbidden whine slips from Maya when he presses two fingers inside of her, whispering a compliment into her ear before replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. It’s been awhile since she’s been with another person, and when he thrusts his entire length in with one quick motion she can’t help but lock her legs around his waist to hold him in place. Coco senses her tense and takes a couple of deep breaths, panting against her shoulder before placing kisses on her chest.

“Relax, mi cariña.” Coco groaned, gripping her ass and pressing Maya closer. He waited until she moaned and rolled her hips against his before picking up the pace of his movements. Once they find a rhythm it doesn’t take long before Maya is coming undone. She cries out in pleasure and tenses around Coco, arms tightly wound around his neck and face pressed against his shoulder. Just a couple of uneven thrusts later and he’s following close behind, groaning and rolling off of Maya so that he’s facing her on the mattress. They both have to catch their breath and she savors the look of pure relaxation on Coco’s face. The lines of stress fall away and he looks years younger.

Maya wants nothing more than to reach out and brush some of the dark hair off of his forehead, but when she does she’s pinned with that same intense stare from earlier as he flinched away from her hand. The connection that was there between them suddenly feels dulled. Coco rolled onto his back, staring up silently at the roof of the RV.

“So… you said something about next time.” She had a sudden sinking feeling in her gut and joined in the direction of his gaze. It was dark out now and the small amount of daylight had charged the old glow in the dark star stickers so that they set off a subtle glow. The longer she looked, the easier it was to pick them out against the faded roof material and ignore the embarrassed burning of her cheeks.

Coco sat up and fixed himself into his pants. From the angle she was at it was nearly impossible to tell exactly what his expression was. “...Yeah. I’ll give you a call.”

That certainly didn’t sound reassuring.

“Right.” Maya’s tone turned flat and cold, earning a glance from the other before she followed suit and sat up to pull her discarded tank top back over her head. Her shorts had been shoved off of the bed in their earlier activities however her underwear lay crumpled near by and she slipped them on to put off meeting his eyes. “Well, I’m only going to be in the area for another couple of days then I do a show up north. If I hear from you it’s cool but if not...it is what it is.”

The warmth of his palm spreads over her cheek and Coco pulls her up so that he can place a gentle kiss on her lips, far softer than she ever would have expected. “ Hey, querida… I’ll call. I got you.”

A soft smile spreads across her face as he slings his kutte over one arm and she pulls him back for one final kiss, happy to get to know him and already excited for the next time they would see each other.

“Ride safe.”

[hjbender]

What foods is pregnant mer!loki going to crave? Human foods that make thor set up treaties with humans? Or just sea foods? And will thor build a sea shell bra for Loki? Bc its pretty and I imagine he would be jealous of other fish looking at Loki.

Take a deep breath, anon, ‘cause we’re diving in 💦

Tagged: underwater domestic fluff, mpreg, pregnant sea snakes, ambisexual merfolk, interspecies sex, lemon, pregnant mersex, worldbuilding, merfolk biology, large cock, hemipenes, lactation kink, humor; 2090k words

After the discovery of Loki’s pregnancy, Thor began preparing in earnest for anything and everything leading up to that momentous day. His people, the dolphin folk, were prone to strange symptoms when they were pregnant, and food cravings were a common occurrence. He vowed to do his best to keep Loki comfortable and happy during this time.

Loki was unconcerned. He was a sea snake after all, not one of the Dolfolk, and he fully expected to bypass all of the odd behaviors Thor described. Considering how well-developed his babies looked when he first saw them swirling in green mist above his cauldron, he was probably well past those stages anyway.

But that wasn’t the case.

“My people carry their offspring for over a year,” Thor explained, stroking Loki’s belly as they lay tangled together in a soft, comfortable bed of sea ferns. “Considering how extraordinary ours will be, it might take even longer.”

Loki sat up with wide eyes. “An entire year?”

“At the very least.”

His pupils shrank into horrified slits.

Over a year being pregnant? He couldn’t possibly last that long! The six little hybrids he carried in his belly already appeared to be full term. He was expecting this to be a short pregnancy followed by a quick, easy birth. A few good pushes and splish splash sploosh, out pop six wriggling tadpoles who instinctively knew how to swim and scavenge and survive on their own. Not that Thor planned to let them do that. No, the Dolfolk raised their young and lived with them for most of their lives, Loki knew. They had large extended families and their social structure was close and complex.

Loki, on the other hand, had never met his parents or any of his siblings. The Serpenians were a solitary, self-sufficient race who came together only during mating season once every few years. Pregnancies lasted a mere couple of months, then they birthed their snakelets in shallow waters and promptly abandoned them, allowing them to make their own way. Some of the young fell prey to the many predators and dangerous things that lived in the sea. The survivors endured and reached maturity, forming the new generation. Serpenian babies were born tiny but they were hardy and full of instinct. There wasn’t cruelty or malice behind these traditions. It was simply the way of Loki’s people, how things had been done for millennia.

But the babies Loki carried weren’t entirely Serpenian. They were part Dolfolk and they certainly shared their father’s gift for harnessing electrical energy, even at this early stage in their development. It made Loki wonder; if his babies were already this developed, then what were they going to do until they were born?

The answer was grow. Grow, emit occasional bursts of bioelectric power, and make their mother’s hormones fluctuate more times per day than the tide.

At eight weeks, three-quarters of the way through a typical Serpenian pregnancy, Loki’s sex drive suddenly increased tenfold. Thor was tremendously pleased by this and was ready at any given moment to offer his body to appease Loki’s needs. He had always admired (and envied) Loki’s hemipenes, the impressive pair of organs that everted when he was aroused, but it was the sweet little slit below them that he truly loved to lavish with attention. It wept for over a week, constantly producing a slick mucus that aided their lovemaking and allowed Thor’s pointed, 18-inch prehensile cock to seat itself completely inside Loki, causing his belly to bulge with its mass.

In this state of carnal euphoria, Loki would remain coupled with Thor for hours at a time, his tail wrapped around Thor’s while his sheath clenched tightly and milked Thor’s seed from him, eliciting as many as a dozen orgasms in a single hour. Because Thor could move his penis at will, he was able to selectively seek out Loki’s many erogenous spots and repay the pleasure. It was especially titillating to see Loki’s belly shift with his organ’s movements. Loki both praised and cursed Thor for his beautiful, beastly anatomy, weak moans of ecstasy on his quivering lips.

But even in the throes of intercourse, he still managed to retain a maternal concern for his unborn offspring.

“Oh, Thor, the babies,” he panted, heaving lungfuls of bubbles into the water as Thor’s cock writhed ruthlessly inside him, hitting all of his sweet spots at once. “Don’t hurt the babies!”

“The babies are safe,” Thor murmured. He stroked Loki’s back soothingly and nuzzled his neck as they lay belly to belly with one another, rocking against the sandy seabed. “They are sealed in your womb, and your womb will protect them. Do not fear. I cannot harm them.”

Loki pulled back a little to look down at his stomach, his small bump tingling with electrical activity. “But I can feel them moving. They’re jumping and wriggling and there’s so mu—ah! So much energy they’re producing!”

“They are simply excited that their mother is excited,” Thor said with a breathless smile. “After you climax, they will settle down and sleep once more.”

Loki smirked breathlessly and pulled Thor close. “Perhaps we can rock them to sleep.”

Thor growled in agreement and slowed his thrusts, rolling his hips in smooth, serpentine motions, just as Loki had taught him.

They made love in this way for another half hour until neither could last another minute. They climaxed together, Thor coating Loki’s overfull sheath with his seed; it leaked out around his softening cock and turned into cloudy white tendrils in the water. Loki collapsed into the sand, sated and happy, and the stirrings inside him gradually quieted.

At sixteen weeks, Loki was possessed by cravings. Soon Thor spent more time out hunting for treats than in his mate’s company. He worked tirelessly to bring Loki anything he wanted, often robbing fishermen’s traps and stealing from their nets. It was dangerous, Thor knew. The alliance between men and merfolk was tenuous at best and treacherous at worst. If he were caught, there was a slim chance he would be released. He would be forced to fight for his freedom and possibly his life. Though he was getting better at controlling his powers, he knew he could shock only a small crew to incapacitation. A larger crew armed with poles and pikes and clubs… that worried him.

And Loki worried for him as well. “Whatever you do, stay away from the Sandmaster. If you’re caught by him, you’ll never escape.”

Thor frowned. “The Sandmaster?”

“You’ll know him by his ship.” Loki’s knuckles popped as he wrung his hands. “It’s called the Sakaar, and it’s painted gold and blue and red. His nets are unbreakable. His traps bear the name of Gast. Stay away from them, Thor. Don’t even go near them. Promise me.”

Thor nodded slowly after a moment. “I promise.”

Loki continued to fidget. “It’s not just the Sandmaster you need to watch out for. I hear his brother keeps merfolk prisoner at a place called Knowhere Island. He collects them like trophies. He’s always looking for rare sea creatures to add to his menagerie. His ship is the Tivan and it has a black hull with white trim.” He placed his hand on his growing belly and gazed at Thor seriously. “I cannot raise our children alone, Thor. I need you. Our babies will need you. Please, stay away from those humans. I can do without lobster but I can’t do without you.”

Thor smiled at Loki tenderly and swam over to plant a kiss on his forehead. “Do not fret, Loki. I give you my word I shall return to you.” He passed his hand over Loki’s swollen midsection and sent a warm, comforting pulse of electricity to his sleeping babies. “To all of you.”

And he always did.

Thor never saw the Sakaar or the Tivan on his hunts, but he did come across a line of traps on the seafloor bearing the name of Gast. The contents were exactly what he was looking for—giant crustaceans that would feed Loki’s cravings for the next four months—but he recalled his beloved’s warning to him and the promise he’d given him. And Thor turned and swam as fast as he could.

There would be other traps. Nothing was worth risking his life over. Very soon he was going to be a father; he would have a family to take care of, a mate that would need him, little ones to raise. He wanted to be there for them. And by Aegir’s scales, he would be.

Sometime around the six-month mark, Loki returned to his lair after a day spent browsing the reefs to find Thor waiting with a grin and a curious garment to bestow him.

“It’s for your comfort,” he explained, slipping the beautiful sea silk and abalone-embellished brassiere around Loki’s flat chest. It was unusually loose in the front. “We call it a brace.”

Loki was puzzled by the oversized fit. “It’s very lovely, Thor, but what in the Seven is it for?”

Thor blinked. “It’s… for when your milk comes in.”

Now it was Loki’s turn to stare. “I beg your pardon?”

“Your milk. You”—Thor’s smile flickered weakly—“when your breasts swell and begin to produce milk. You will surely be sore from feeding six babies several times a day, and this will prevent you from moving about too much. And, er”—a slight blush crept across his cheeks—“it will deter unwholesome gazes. You are sure to be engorged as your date approaches, and certain males are aroused by the sight of a mother’s full breasts. The brace will offer a modest cover if you attract unwanted atten—what is so funny?”

Loki stopped chuckling and took a breath. “Oh, Thor. Serpenians don’t give milk!”

Thor’s excitement deflated faster than a popped blowfish. “Wh… but.” His eyes drifted down to Loki’s chest. “But you have nipples.”

“So do you. And like yours, they will yield nothing, I’m quite sure.”

To say Thor was sad would be a hilarious understatement. He was devastated. “But… but our babies,” he whimpered. “What will they eat? How will they survi—”

“Oh, Thor, Thor.” Loki smiled patiently and glided forward, wrapping his tail around Thor’s and resting his arms on his shoulders. “Dear Thor, fretful father-to-be. Our babies are sea snakes. Or at least part sea snake. They will be born with teeth. They will survive as I did, eating small creatures and plants. You worry needlessly.”

The heartbroken look on Thor’s face did not fade. “But I was… I was looking forward to taking care of them. Of you holding them close and feeding them. That bonding. I didn’t think. I never knew you…”

Loki snickered as Thor struggled for words, stroking his fingers through his flowing golden hair. “They shall be cared for. You and I will hold them and feed them by hand, and they will develop the family bond that is so important to your people. They shall know both our worlds and yet belong to one of their very own. Don’t despair, Dada. Everything will be fine.”

Thor grinned meekly as Loki kissed the corner of his bristly mouth. “Well, I… was also rather looking forward to playing with your breasts. I mean, er, massaging them, of course. Making them feel better. And I could help you get rid of any, um… excess supply.”

Loki arched a brow, already intrigued. “Hmm,” he purred, “so you are one of those awful, unwholesome males who is aroused by the sight of a mother’s full breasts, are you?”

“Only yours, Loki,” he answered, but his smirking face was a red as a boiled crab.

Loki laughed and locked his hands together behind Thor’s head, flicked his tail, and pulled Thor toward the dark bower of his kelp bed. “Why don’t we give it a try, then? Milk or no milk, you could still make a meal of me.” His tongue darted out and playfully brushed against Thor’s lips.

Thor went cross-eyed for a moment. He shook it off with a brilliant smile and slipped his arms around Loki’s waist, feeling the six products of their love press warmly against him.

“No, I will make a feast of you,” Thor rumbled, reaching down between them and palming Loki’s genital slit, finding it already slick and engorged.

Loki grinned sharply and pulled Thor backward into the waving stalks of kelp. They disappeared with a flash of blue and green tails.

[sanders-sanctuary-au]

"I- If you are g-going to kill me, please-" The borrower sobbed once. "please just make it quick."

Meeting Maddie

Sanders Sanctuary Masterlist

Word Count: 2,702

Content Warnings: Cages, treating a person as a pet, allusions to abuse

———

Sometimes, Maddie wished she had been born in captivity. In one of those breeding farms she’d heard whispers about, or to a pair of “lovebirds” in a pet shop. If she had been, she probably wouldn’t have ended up here, gripping the bars of her carrier to keep herself from tumbling around helplessly while her master slipped through the crowd. She had half a mind to yell up at him to be more careful with the cage, but thought better of it.  The bruises she got from being jostled in her cage were far more preferable than whatever punishment her master could come up with for her insolence.

“Okay, little fly, we’re here,” said the human in question.

Maddie barely had time to brace herself before greasy fingers wrapped around her and she was pulled out of her enclosure. She forced herself to remain still; her master didn’t like it when she squirmed.

“This is where the Scorpion crew is outfitted. Their shipment is set to come in sometime in the next month. You know the drill.”

“Get in, get the info, get out,” Maddie replied listlessly.

“Don’t disappoint me, little fly,” her master warned, giving her a sharp squeeze for good measure.

Maddie bit her tongue to keep from crying out, letting out a sigh of relief as she was finally set down. With one last glance at the human behind her, she turned and slipped into the Scorpion crew’s lair.

Yeah, she definitely wished she’d been born in captivity.

Sure, if she had been, she’d have spent her whole life belonging to somebody else, to someone that would treat her as a lesser being. She never would have known what it was to go where you wanted when you wanted to, or eat and sleep and live on her own terms.

She never would have known freedom.

But she also probably would never have been caught by a gang of drug dealers on a borrowing trip gone wrong or be forced to spy on some of the most dangerous people in the city’s underground. She wouldn’t have spent the past two years wondering if she’d done good enough work to be fed, or hoping that the gang members would decide to ignore her for the night rather than push her around for their amusement. Being a pet was bad, but almost anything had to be better than this, right?

Maddie poked her head around a corner, and sucked in a breath. There they were, the Scorpion gang. Her master’s current biggest rivals in business. And it was likely they’d stay that way, unless he could figure out how to get ahead of them somehow, which was why Maddie was now here, skirting around the edges of an abandoned warehouse, trying to catch the drop-off location of their next shipment of product so that her master’s men could get there first.

From the tone of their voices, Maddie could tell they were talking about something important, so she slid up behind a crate near the group and hunkered down to listen.

“-do you mean not on schedule?” a man Maddie assumed to be the leader demanded. “Martin knows our timetable.”

“Well, the flooding upstate doesn’t care much about the timetable. The truck won’t be here ‘til Friday, Martin says there’s nothing he can do.”

Anger flared in the man’s eyes, and Maddie found herself ducking even lower. It wasn’t often she was glad to be so small, but now, anything that could keep her out of the gang leader’s gaze was a blessing to be sure.

“Somebody better have good news for me today,” he growled out. “Because if one more thing goes wrong, then I am gonna-”

“Boss,” a new voice cut in, and all heads turned towards the entrance. “Some man is here to see you. Says he’s here to deal with the “little problem” you’ve been having?”

“Oh, yes,” the boss sighed, sounding bored. “Send him in then.”  

Maddie peaked out from her hiding place to see a tall man wearing dark clothes. She’d seen a lot of odd types in her time working in the underworld, but this had to be the first time she’d ever seen someone wearing an actual hooded cloak. His face was hard to see under the folds of fabric, but his very presence made her feel somehow uneasy.

“Good afternoon,” he said in a smooth voice, inclining his head slightly towards the leader.

“Let’s skip your pleasantries, shall we?” the gang boss said dryly, then waved a hand at one of his men.

The goon stepped forward, and Maddie realized with a start that he was carrying a cage that held a trembling tiny inside. As they drew closer to the man, the tiny whimpered, trying to press themselves against their cage wall and further away.

“P-please,” Maddie heard the tiny beg. “Please don’t! I can do better, I promise! Don’t send me to the Shadow Man!”

Maddie’s heart skipped a beat. She knew about the Shadow Man, how could you be a tiny working in the underground and not? The threat that hung over all of their heads if they failed to please their masters. The mystery man who collected broken, worthless tinies. Anyone who was given to the Shadow Man was never seen again.

“Don’t bother anymore,” the gang leader said, rolling his eyes. “You’ve proven that you’re worthless to me. I don’t want to deal with you for another second.”

Maddie watched helplessly as the poor thing was passed over, the Shadow Man pulling a cage of his own from beneath his cloak and unceremoniously dumping the shaking tiny inside. The Shadow Man slipped the cage back beneath the folds of fabric and nodded to the gang again.

“It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen,” he said, turning and heading back towards the exit.

“Now then,” said the boss. “Let’s get back to–”

”Wait, what the hell is that?” one of the men interrupted, and Maddie yelped, realizing that the thug was staring right at her.

She didn’t think, she just turned and ran, knowing even as she did so that it was no use. Sure enough, she’d barely made it a foot before a hand clamped down around her, knocking the air out of her lungs and pinning her arms at her sides. She kicked and struggled, but it was no use; she was well and truly caught.

“What the hell?” the boss repeated, staring at her. “Where did that thing come from?”

“I dunno!” the human holding her insisted. “It must’ve been hiding behind the crate here.”

“Really now…” The leader narrowed his eyes, and Maddie squirmed under his gaze. “Now why would it do that. Anyone could see there’s no food in here.”

He leaned close, then suddenly plucked the borrower up by the back of her shirt, eliciting a sharp yelp.

“So that begs the question. What are you snooping around for?”

“I-I’m not snooping,” Maddie gasped out. “I swear, I’m not, I-”

“No…no, I know what you are,” the boss said with a snarl. “You’re Tony’s little “good luck charm,” aren’t you? I should’ve known he would try to cut into my profits.”

“N-no, I d-don’t belong to anyone,” Maddie tried to protest, but she could see in the leader’s eyes that he didn’t believe her.

“I’ve had enough of this,” he grumbled, almost to himself. “I’ve told him to back off so many times, I warned him there’d be consequences. But he just wouldn’t listen.”

He hoisted Maddie up higher, so she was eye level with him, and she did her best to bite back a whimper.

“Maybe losing his precious little fly will send the proper message.”

Maddie began to well and truly panic then. Anything that gang leaders came up with for “sending a message” was something she wanted absolutely nothing to do with.

“P-please,” she started, not even sure what she was going to say to convince a man like this to let her go. Though as it turned out, she wouldn’t get a chance to say anything more.

“Excuse me,” the silky smooth voice from before said, and all heads turned to see the Shadow Man, still hovering at the edge of the room. “If you’d like, I could take her off your hands.”

No, Maddie thought desperately. No no no, anything but that.

“Why?” the boss asked, narrowing his eyes. The Shadow Man simply smiled his chilling smile.

“Oh, come now. You know how I conduct my business. I am always willing to take unwanted tinies. No fuss, and no questions asked. And it sounds to me like that one is very unwanted indeed.”

The leader hummed thoughtfully, then frowned down at Maddie.

“Unwanted, for sure. But we need to send a message to its owner. We won’t be tolerating this kind of behavior.”

“I understand that perfectly,” the man said with another of his slight bows. “But don’t you agree that sending your rival’s tiny to the Shadow Man is about as strong of a message you could send?”

For a few agonizing moments, nothing was said as the boss mulled it over. Then, he gave a curt nod, and held Maddie out towards the Shadow Man.

Maddie was dropped into his waiting palm, and before she’d properly registered the change, she was dropped again, this time into the cage stowed beneath his cloak. The landing hurt less than she’d expected it to; to her surprise the bottom of the cage was padded, but it was a small comfort. She glanced at the other tiny, unsurprised to see them still trembling in the corner. They were in the same boat now, the two of them.

Completely doomed.

———

Deacon sighed in relief as he buckled his cage into place before starting up his car. That had been a close call with the kid in the gang’s hideout, it was lucky for her that he’d happened to be there just as she was discovered. He shuddered to think of what might have been done to her if he hadn’t been able to get her out of there.

He glanced into the cage as he drove, frowning slightly at the sight of the two borrowers huddled inside. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how to make this part less uncomfortable. He’d tried talking to those he rescued from the shadier parts of the world, but the change in demeanor only seemed to terrify them further. He wanted them to know that they were safe, but he just didn’t know how until they set foot in the sanctuary for the first time.

After an unbearably quiet drive, the awkward trio finally arrived at the entrance to Thomas’s farm. Deacon smiled to himself before reaching over and unbuckling the cage, sliding it out of the car as gently as he could.

“Okay,” he murmured as he walked the borrowers up to the front door of the farmhouse. “Welcome to your new home.”

He made his way into the living room and set the carrier down on the coffee table. He bent down to open it, then gasped at what he saw. One of the borrowers was lying unmoving on the cage floor, and Deacon quickly scooped them up and hurried out of the room, carrying the small figure close.

“Larry!” he called as he rushed into the infirmary. “I just brought this one in. Some drug dealer had them before, and I don’t know what he did to them, but now they’re unconscious. Can you-”

“Here,” Larry said, holding out his hands, and Dee ever so carefully eased the little borrower into the vet’s waiting palms. He hovered for a moment, making sure Larry had things under control, before heading back out to the living room. The other new borrower had to be pretty confused by now, and Dee wanted to make sure she was okay too.

“Hey, I’m back,” he said as he entered the room. A quick glance revealed the girl was still crouched in the corner of the cage, and he sighed to himself. “Didn’t mean to run off and leave you like that, sorry.”

He crouched down so he’d be closer to eye level with the small girl, and was sadly not too surprised to see her crying softly.

“Hey,” he said again, trying to make his voice as gentle as he could. “Look at me for a sec. Can you do that?”

She raised her head, her eyes puffy and red and her cheeks stained with tears.

“I- If you are g-going to kill me, please-” The borrower sobbed once. “please just make it quick.”

“Oh…no, I…no one’s going to kill you, I…” Dee sighed as the girl sobbed again and buried her face in her arms. “Okay. This is what I’m going to do. I’m gonna leave, alright?” He stood up and backed away. “You can come out of the cage, or stay in it if you want. It’s up to you. But I’m going to go away, and send someone else in to help you. And don’t worry, it won’t be a human.” He smiled softly. “It’ll be a borrower like you.”

And with that, he stood back up and left the room once more, smiling to himself as he caught a glimpse of the girl’s surprised face as he left. Maybe he wasn’t the best at comforting them when they were new, but he didn’t need to be. He just needed to make sure they were safe. And Deacon knew for a fact that there was nowhere safer they could possibly be than here.

———

“So let me get this straight,” Maddie said slowly, her hands wrapped around a little clay cup of tea. She’d never had tea before, and she was rather enjoying it. “This Thomas got a big house and a bunch of money from his aunt. And what he decided to do with it was…build this place?”

Maddie looked around at the room, taking in the blend of human and borrower sized furniture arranged so that the two groups could sit together comfortably.

“Yep, that sums it up!” Patton responded with a grin, taking a sip from his own cup of tea. “He’s been running it for close to four years now! The Sanders Sanctuary is a place where all borrowers, regardless of upbringing, are welcome to live free lives if they want to stay!”

“So…the Shadow Man…” Maddie said slowly, and Patton smiled.

“…is our friend,” he affirmed. “Deacon goes out and he finds borrowers who are especially at risk in illegal operations and he gets them out. The whole ‘Shadow Man’ thing was really an accident, but it meant that people started approaching him with borrowers they wanted to get rid of, so we all sort of just went with it.”

Maddie stared at him, trying to wrap her head around it all. Less than an hour ago, she’d been convinced she was going to die. Now, she was sitting on a borrower sized chair, across easily the most cheerful person she’d ever met, a cup of tea in her hands and a plate of cookies in front of them, being told that she didn’t have to worry about being safe ever again?

“Kiddo, you okay there?” Patton’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she nodded.

“Yeah, I…it’s just a lot to take in,” she admitted. “This morning, I woke up in a locked desk drawer and hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday morning…I think this is gonna take some getting used to.”

Sympathy was written all over Patton’s face, and he pushed the plate of cookies towards her, urging her to eat another.

“I understand,” he said quietly. “Most of us here, we’ve all had hardships. We’ve each got our stories to tell, some like yours, some different. But there’s one thing we all have in common.”

“What’s that?” Maddie asked around a mouthful of cookie, and Patton smiled.

“We’re safe here, kiddo. I promise, no matter what else happens, you’re safe here. Okay?”

Maddie swallowed, then glanced around the room again before her eyes fell back to Patton. Slowly, carefully, she returned his smile.

“Okay.”

———

A/N: SO! I hope you all enjoyed my completely self-indulgent fic about how my OC Maddie arrived at the Sanders Sanctuary. If you’re at all familiar with my fic Our Own Villain, then you’ll have noticed several nods to Maddie’s origins and her life in Roman’s realm. I’ve had a blast putting my sweet little child (she’s 13, btw) into this universe. And yes, Patton basically is going to adopt her, bless him XD. Credit for the idea of Dee as the Shadow Man of course goes to @ukaia, from their fic for this verse The Shadow Man, read it if you haven’t, it’s very good! Thank you guys for reading!

Sanders Sanctuary AU: @imtoobiforyou, @ever-after-aaa, @bunny222, @scorching-scotch, @depressed-alone, @virgils-hoodie, @wildhorsewolf, @everphantom, @herequeerandreadytokickass @a-valorous-choice @paint-in-flames @the-angel-devil-anon @whizzie72 @the-office-cat @royalnerd829 @happysingingturtles @spindlewig @thegaypasta @a-different-s1de  @nugs-and-hugs-not-drugs @dracoventus  @notall2gether @kylie-with-purple-hair @moonfang03  @daflangstlairde 

Sanders Sides Taglist: @lizethemotherlycat,  @coffeestudylive, @sugarblob0, @logically-asexual, @sir-sanders, @migraine-marathon, @sirkawaiipotato, @princeyssash,  @idontevenfreakingknow22, @tree4life25, @spacevirgil , @virgiltheanxious , @thebaagelboy ,  @msu82 , @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 , @alexthechaotic , @thesleepyraziel , @bobolovesoze ,  @littlemiracle05 , @pattson,  @nerd-in-space , @thesides,  @stay-in–place, @ravenclawunicorn1, @at-least-seven-pretty-potatoes, @michealawithana, @anotherfandomtrasher , @fandomsofrandom,  @a-deliciouslyfadingcollection, @nightmarejasmine, @xxfoxit, @quoth-the-sparrow, @katatles-the-fish, @misty-the-mysterious, @alyssadashrub, @punkassplonker, @noctisvalex, @i-sold-my-soul-to-thefandom, @funsizedgremlin, @vigilantvirgil, @nonamefightergirl, @thomasbemyfriend, @starsinger , @milomeepit, @justabookworm39, @shortandfantastic, @thesilentbluesparrow, @royallyanxious, @mirror2thespirit, @coffee-stains-paper-and-ink, @silverrhayn, @mooksie01, @backatthebein, @nye275, @anastasialestina, @callboxkat, @a-lexicon-of-words, @dramatic-and-young, @emeraldfoxface, @mytrashlifeistrash,  @peachie-keeen, @llamaly , @witch19 ,  @heythereprincey , @bring-it-on-perra , @nienna14 , @bubblycricket , @thomasfandersunite , @slightlyobssesive , @miathefangirlwriter , @logicallyanxious , @apologetically-anxious , @keys117 , @digitally-analog ,  @thnksfrthpinof ,  @ocotopushugs , @warping-reality , @thisandthat22255 , @grey-lysander , @your-username-is-unavailable , @hikariyukino , @theresneverenoughfandoms , @virgil-sandersss , @violetmcl, @thatfandomfollower, @nothingelsemattersme, @cdragontogacotar, @narniasfinestavengingsociopath, @absentmindedproff, @im-bi-myself, @fantasyandfairfolk, @virgilsblogofanxietys, @your-average-outcast, @sanderstalker, @galaxy-warping, @queen-of-all-things-snuggly @a-little-bit-of-ace, @faithfreedom-art @therealhmmlingle @xxladystarlightxx, @morgan-the-art-girl, @stormcrawler75 @wowitsmyblog, @romanssippycup, @lunalikesgamesandstuff, @lamp-calm-sanders, @musikasworld @cyberpunkjinx, @mauvelavender @samathekittycat @black-out-wonder @i-read-by-lamp @ravenclawicecream @nashiraneko @lucifer-in-my-head @ladyartemisia28 @awesome-and-unique-username @zoalis @entpscarleharrrr 

@raygelkitty @zeldahadasword @gubbalupagus @musicphanpie-b @virgilssweaterpaws, @faacethefacts @a-simple-fryingpan @pinkeasteregg @punknerdmusings @imantisocialgetoverit @adventurousplatypus @anuninspiredpoet  @awkward-avocado-of-death, @poison-lyra @modcarbz, @thisrandomperson102,  @skydiamcnds @just-another-starfish, @thepoolofthedead,  @theinvisiblespoon, @charithecherry @dreamsshadowwashere, @broadwaytheanimatedseries,  @bitten1ce,  @madly-handsome, @cats-with-blogs,  @itsvirgiliacoriolanus @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl @fanderrawr,  @starjames-pma @crownswriter123 @stars-sunsets-and-oliver, @akiraaria, @thilb0burrit0, @dragonangel-funandfire, @painterman-bobross @galaxymindedindividual,  @sassy-in-glasses, @vergeangst, @iaminmultiplefandoms,  @thedundundunnnsong, @podcastsandcoffee, @bosmeri-alyd @anyay666,  @celinethotwrong,  @poorlittleanxiousbaby, @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @chaloopa12 @lastbeginning @readeatfightlove13, @girlwthanxiety4ever @entpscarleharrrr @jani-bunny54 @logically-emotional @i-am-asha @punsterterry @fluidityandgiggles @gatlily @stupidfangirl107 @axahi-bitxh @sharkkittem @thesocialbookwormishere @amuthefunperson @lunareclipse-524 @purplesoul-at-hogwarts @asymmetricalgarbage8888 @basically-trash5 @maxiswriting   @bluebloodstains @savage-fox-cacti  @skitari  @iridescentglassflowers  @immortaldystopia @satanblessi  @iloveeverytjing123 @the-average-loner @therealpeterpan  @theunoriginaldaisy  @para-keat @today-only-happens-once @03-30-am  @why-only-have-one-fandom @analogical-mess @twilight-trix @silverjay520 @purpleandblacknightmares @anxious-fander-bean  @felicianoromano @idioticsky  @storytellerofuntoldlegends @naw2702 @lesbianturtle @fight-or-flight-reflexes @brownie-aunt

@jimprotectionsquad, @somber-fae, @splatoon-jim, @simon-seppa, @kinkiestcoconutaround, @nyxwordsmith, @hannahisnottalented,  @thefamouszombiebouquet, @jordandobbertin,  @la-fandom-freak, @freepaperie081, @tormentist, @mollycassmith, @pleaseletthisjimbetaken,  @littleteenblog, @of-chaos-and-flame, @monstermemories, @simplelittlestar, @sander-fander, @jenni-with-an-i, @superawesomeamazingname, @randomcrystals, @the-gilbird,  @alextheodd,  @desolate-darlin, @alwaysmy-lilith, @look-its-meme, @sigma-time-lord, @toreen-m, @samthekoalabear98,  @thewinterunicorn,  @miss-meg1710, @itsjustkota, @justanotherproblem, @redone0-0dreamer,  @mltcp,  @jiiiimmmm-with-dyed-hair,  @jse-fandom-protection-squad, @edible-napkin, @helpmeimjim,  @slim-jims, @didsomeonesayprince, @kittyboof8,  @fanofyoutubeandmore,