#foot and knee brace user here hi

[lem0n-a1d]

It's not the fact that I'm chronically ill that bothers me. That's fine. I wouldn't have it any other way. It makes me unique. It's how people treat me because of it. They always either tell me to suck it up and move on or treat me like I'm going to break if they breathe on me wrong. I'm not brittle or fragile. I'm not going to break. I just need to be treated more gentle. That doesn't mean people can't be energetic or a bit rough with me. It just means that I may not be able to return that energy or handle roughousing all the time. I'm not a vase. I'm a living, breathing, feeling person. I deserve to be treated like one.

!!Do Not Derail, This Is About My Personal Physical Health And It's Hurtful To Me When You Derail!!

[limerental]

ficletober 2022 day 30

Years after a devastating loss, Geralt manages to find someone important to him again.

content warning for suspected MCD

The cottage sank in a swathe of meadow, grass swaying along the stone path and up over the green roof. The gardens were hedged by wattle fencing and boasted a wild tangle of flowers and herbs, and a bevy of chickens pushed at one another in the dirt. 

A white cat stole under the fence, back legs stretched out and curled tail twitching as it yawned, but then, it caught sight of the stranger on the path and hissed a warning, running off puffed up twice its size.

A witch lived here, the locals said, but their voices had not held the usual vitriol toward strange magicks and aloof sorcerers. This was a friendly hedge witch, a local healer and problem solver, and in a few years, when public sentiment toward magic users grew steadily more negative, they would call her an herbalist and a medicine woman and overlook the thrum of sorcery that hung about her cottage.

The amulet on Geralt's chest buzzed with it, and he saw the little tells of folk magic everywhere. Iron nails and horseshoes and twigs tied together in auspicious shapes. 

He'd come to the right place, he knew, had followed all the directions perfectly, but now that he was here, his feet refused to move the last span of distance across the stone path. The air felt too warm, too fragrant. The leather collar of his worn coat rubbed against his neck, and the amulet hummed in a way that tickled his throat.

"This is stupid," he said to a chicken that scratched closer to him, and it tilted its head, shook its red waddle, and tutted in consideration of his boots. "There's no reason to hesitate. She's only an old witch. She's only–"

She was more than that. Of course she was.

He forced himself to approach the cottage and rapped at the weathered front door. There was a crescent moon peephole carved into the wood, but no eye appeared there, the cottage too shadowed to see anything within. Carved bones and feathers and beads hung on leather cords in the eaves above his head, clanking together in a soft breeze, but the crafter of those wards did not appear. 

Geralt was in the midst of considering whether breaking down the cottage door to investigate further would leave him with magical boils in unfortunate places, when he heard someone humming in the garden.

He passed through a handmade gate with a pulley system that would have clattered shut behind him if he did not grab and still it, and beyond a four foot high mound of squash vines and several trellises of beans, he found an old woman hunched in the dirt.

As she hummed a haunting tune, a large slug inched toward her, eyestalks trembling, and as it drew near enough, she snatched it and added it to a nearly-filled jar at her feet. Several more slugs oozed toward her leaving glistening trails, all held rapt by her soft humming, all meeting the same fate as the others.

The woman had long, heavily, curled silver hair that fell to her lower back, portions of it tied away from her face in looped braids, and she was barefoot as she kneeled, the upturned pads of her feet calloused and dark brown with earth.

Geralt cleared his throat, but the woman did not startle or pause in her work, just kept calling to the slimy garden pests until her jar was full. He waited, arms fallen still at his sides. Finally, she capped her jar, grabbed up her walling stick, and struggled up off her knees to turn to him. She stood hunched forward, braced on her staff, long hair spilling over her shoulders, and her face was lined and marked with liver spots around her temples, her jowls sagging.

Her eyes were violet, shrewd and angry.

"I could curse the eyebrows off that old bat for telling you where I am," Yennefer swore. "Margarita was under clear instructions not to–"

"It was Triss actually," said Geralt. 

"Oh, she won't be so pretty without eyebrows or teeth," the old woman spat. She shook her head and visibly aged further before his eyes, her wrinkles deepening and eyes drooping. "And what do you think of me then, Witcher? Still as beautiful? Everything you were hoping for?"

"Yen," he said and could say nothing else. He had not heard her voice in years, had not thought he would ever hear it again. "Yen, I… Yennefer."

He lifted a hand, cautious, but she let him reach to touch the pads of his fingers to her wrinkled cheek. It was easy to draw close, and she let him, easy to tip her chin up and duck low to kiss her. 

It was a familiar kiss, like coming home. Honeybees hummed above their heads, and chickens pecked at their feet.

He held the kiss for a long inward breath, and when he drew away, her violet eyes blinked glassy with tears. Beneath the cup of his palm, her cheek melted back into the face of a less aged woman, dark hair lightly streaked with silver and only a little wrinkle of crow's feet to show for her great age.

She remained hunched, spine curved down and jaw crooked under his hand.

"I did it," she said, voice wavering. "I managed it. Undid what was done when I was a girl. But I… it didn't change anything. Not really. All I can do now is hide from all of it. Pretend it happened to someone else."

It had been cripplingly difficult, the grief nearly insurmountable, after the disastrous events following the Thanned coup decades ago had stolen Ciri from them. They had searched for years, separately and together, and found no trace of her, no miracle. At last, they had been forced to admit that the explosion of Tor Lara had either turned their daughter's body to vapor or that the ruined portal had spit her out somewhere inhospitable to life.

Ciri was dead. 

Their love had soured in those years, could not survive it. Geralt buried himself in mindless work, endless hunts, and Yennefer disappeared like smoke.

Tracking her here to this cottage had taken him a very long time and no small amount of luck. Even after he had learned Triss still visited her and wheedled the information out of her, Geralt had waited to seek her out, uncertain he would be welcomed, unsure if he even wanted to find her, if they still belonged in each other's lives without Ciri.

But the world was desperately empty without Yennefer. His daily life was arduous and meaningless. Ciri's memory grew more and more distant, the father he had been someone separate from the aimless beast he became. The man who had loved the both of them disappearing the same way Yennefer had.

Geralt pressed his forehead to Yennefer's, breathed in her familiar scent.

"Missed you, Yen," he said simply. "It's good to see you."

"You won't drag me back with you, Geralt," she said. "This is my life now. I'm not the same as I was. I can't be."

"I know," said Geralt. "Me neither."

He barely recognized himself some days. That man was long dead, the one who had loved a little girl and sworn to protect her and failed horribly. He did not quite recognize this stooped and domestic Yennefer, who had laughed at his distant dreams of building a simple home for them, raising livestock, playing house.

"It can't go back to how it was before," said Yennefer, shaking her head. She adjusted her grip on her curved staff and rolled her aching shoulders. "It's impossible. I won't go with you."

"I know," he repeated and asked instead, "can I stay?"

The little white cat had crept up while they were speaking and sat a short distance away, blinking at her mistress and the ugly stranger with the unnerving emanations. Deciding something, she stalked over with her tail raised, meowing, and wove between the stranger's legs. When he stooped to pet her, she politely ignored the tingling of his mutated fingers and rubbed her head against his gloved palm.

The witch and the stranger went into the cottage and prepared for dinner. 

Geralt mumbled that he hoped the jar of slugs wasn't on the menu, and Yennefer threatened to dump it down the back of his shirt. They baked a meat pie with chicken and potatoes and flakey crust and ate a misshapen cake for dessert. 

Then, they turned in together and made love the way they used to, except slower now and quiet, with no artifice and no fumbling. When they finally slept, the white cat curled on the quilt at the foot of their bed and trod on their faces to wake them in the morning.

Their life was simple. Some moments were heavy and weary and pained, but in time, they spoke about her freely, their daughter, and honored her memory and lived on as they were now. Different, changed, but no less able to keep going and find joy and feel whole again.

And one day, a visitor leading a black horse came up the stone path toward the cottage, and a little white cat ran, purring, to greet her.

[tendertenebrosity]

Illiam and Helis on the road! Close sequel to here and here.  Masterpost for these characters is here. Mostly just some conversation and worldbuilding today; stay tuned for part 2!

Taglist:  @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doglover82; @top-hat-aye; @burtlederp; @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi   @thesleepysnapdragon @whump-cravings

Helis knew, from the conversations they had overheard at Illiam’s heel, that today they would pass into the south of Rosdan, the part the Toraldan army hadn’t taken yet. If they hadn’t, they probably wouldn’t have been able to guess; the countryside was the same as it had been for the past few days. Heavily forested hills, a dirt road that wound side-to-side between their peaks like the track made by a snake. The ground was rocky, any snow long since trodden into black sludge peppered liberally with gravel. Helis had an impressive bruise on the underside of their foot from trying to make their way through it, and the little downy feathers on their ankles hadn’t been either white or downy in days.  

“We have quite a large ravine to cross next,”  Illiam commented. “The town is just over the bridge; we should be able to see both once we’re around this next bend in the road.”

Helis made a wordless hum of acknowledgment. They wouldn’t be stopping for the night in this town; they might pause so that people could mill about, make a mess and maybe have another urgent, terse meeting. Or they might not. Helis supposed they’d be glad for a chance to stretch their legs.

The thick pine forest on some of these hills was a lot like the country that they’d spent a few weeks camping in with Reed. Had it been this tiring, going up and down the hills? Not for Helis, but maybe for Reed it had been. He’d never complained.

“I built some bridges, you know,” Illiam remarked.  

Helis blinked, roused from their reverie. “What?”

“Bridges. You know, big structures, usually made of wood or stone, they allow you to get over bodies of water… ”

Helis hunched their shoulders. Yes, very funny. “You… built bridges? Why?” It wasn’t something they’d ever considered him doing. It seemed… beneath him, or at least that he ought to think it was beneath him. They didn’t remember him ever showing the slightest interest in that kind of thing before.

“It’s the kind of thing I’ve been working on, the last few years,” Illiam explained. “Not just bridges, but… large engineering work. Repairing dams, roads. You usually do that with magic in Crestmead, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Helis said. Their friend Diamand had taken a job in that direction; another scholarship student, like them, he’d chosen to go into government service in construction. “It’s usually done with teams of mages…”

“It’s not been used much here,” Illiam said. “Most things like that in the North are built the old-fashioned way. Bricks and mortar and a lot of peasants with shovels. It can be difficult and dangerous work, not to mention slow. I had seen a lot of… interesting things done in the South, and I wanted to try and replicate them. Not just structures, either - I still wonder if I could get some of your irrigation and wind shelter techniques to work with our farms.” He paused. “You came from a farm, didn’t you?”

“Yeees…” Helis wasn’t sure whether to be surprised he remembered, or brace themself for him to say something derogatory. “We didn’t use any magic, though. I think you’re talking about bigger places than ours…”

He barely seemed to be listening. “I imagine the climate to the south is better, so you probably didn’t need much help. The land to the west of our holdings is harsh, and crop failures are common. It would make a big difference if I could increase yield even a little bit.” He sighed. “Bridges proved easier, at least to start with. Of course, I was somewhat hampered by the fact that, as you say, I don’t have a trained team. I only have myself. So a lot of the techniques needed… adjusting.”

Despite themselves, Helis found themself a little interested. “That’s a bit more than just an ‘adjustment’,” they said. “You’re trying to do the work of, what - four to six people by yourself?”

“Mm,” he said, dismissive.

“That sounds… dangerous,” Helis said. They’d had to design the kind of spells Illiam was talking about as part of their course; they couldn’t imagine trying to handle that much magic, in that many different moving parts, at once. It was overambitious to the point of being irresponsible.

Then again, in light of his current project, they shouldn’t be surprised.

“Oh, maybe if you don’t know what you’re doing,” Illiam said, airily. They could practically picture the smug tilt of his chin as he said it. “I had it down pretty well by the third attempt. Besides, it was unavoidable. Even if I’d managed to get four or five mages together, there’s no guarantee they’d have been able to work together in that way. It’s not a common skill here.”

Helis’ brow wrinkled. “But… I’ve seen other mages here, in the army ranks.” Mostly men, a scattering of women, their uniform marked out with a red scarf or sash or hat. The common soldiers deferred to them, but nowhere near as much as they did to Illiam. Helis had seem them performing heat spells, wind spells, stick-fast spells - the kinds of minor workings any large group of people needed.  Are they mages or not? they wanted to ask. Why ‘if’ you get four or five people? Aren’t they trained properly?

He hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, but the… culture, I suppose you’d say… amongst mages is different here. Much less collaborative. Much less standardised. A Northern sorceror works alone, or maybe with an apprentice or two if they’re inclined to that sort of thing.”

“Oh.”

“There’s nothing like the Academy here, or even the sort of smaller schools that teach people to read and write in Crestmead,” Illiam explained. “I learned my Northern magic from my master, Karlin, who learned it from his, and so on. I started when I was nine - that’s pretty normal. He didn’t have a second apprentice while teaching me, but I understand he often did. Some masters can get a bit… stingy, paranoid. They don’t like to share their knowledge too freely. Karlin was never like that.”

“Oh. You… always did seem like you knew a bit already, in the first semester,” Helis admitted.

Illiam was silent, just a beat longer than usual. “You could say that,” he said. “You know, I - ”

He cut himself off - the hands that had been fairly slack on the reins in front of Helis were suddenly moving, pulling the horse up to a sudden stop.

They had just rounded the curve of the hillside. As Illiam had said, they could look down and see the bridge - miles ahead of them yet, a squat and sturdy structure made from the same grey stone as the cliffs it straddled. The riverbed was a long way down.

They couldn’t see much of the town, though, because it and the forest to the east were obscured by a thick dark plume of smoke.

The soldiers in front of them were clogging the road, the whole unit that had been ahead of Illiam’s horse, pulled to an unplanned halt. Raised voices and curses reached Helis’ ears; people were pointing at the smoke, barking orders, shoving the people ahead or behind them.

“This town was supposed to be secured!” someone was insisting, harsh and strident. “Lord Garnier sent - ”

As the army milled, disorganised, there was a sharp whistle, thinned out by distance and followed by a crack. The light that flashed in the forest beyond the town was tinged pale blue, obviously magical in origin. People in the army flinched and swore as more clouds of dust and smoke rose up. As they watched, aghast, a wedge of stone split away from the cliff face and tumbled down into the ravine with a crash.

Illiam hissed wordlessly under his breath, and tapped Helis - more of a shove, really - on the shoulder.

"You’re getting off,” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“Get off the horse, lackwit, move!”

Helis let go of their grip on the saddle and drew their knees up slightly, uncertain of what to do next. Illiam lifted them unceremoniously around the waist, and they swung their leg awkwardly over the horse’s neck. They made it to the ground in an awkward, flapping fall, their legs nearly giving way under them.

The horse stamped and sidled back and forth, rolling one dark eye as Helis stumbled back. Illiam gathered up his reins. He didn’t even look down at Helis.

“Go back and wait with the rest of the camp followers,” he said, his voice raised over the commotion. “Do not come and find me. Do not cause problems.”

He kicked the horse into motion. Helis shielded their eyes from the dirt he threw up; they could hear him yelling something at the soldiers down the slope. By the time they had collected themself, the crowd of soldiers had parted to allow Illiam and his horse to canter down the hill in the direction of the smoking town.

“Well, now what?” Helis asked aloud, to nobody in particular. They watched the figure of Illiam and his horse, dramatic black cloak flapping, until it was out of sight. Helis didn’t know much about war magic. But they had a hazy, uneasy idea how much damage a single magic-user could wreak against an undefended force. Was he going to fight? Or did he think the battle needed him in command? It still seemed unbelievable to Helis, that men twice their age, generals and leaders, actually took orders from Illiam, who wasn’t any older than Helis themself.

The crowd of soldiers was forming up into some kind of order in his wake, the person who’d been yelling about Lord Garnier unloading a series of profanities and insults on everybody in earshot.

The wagons and the rest of the army had been following Illiam and the advance party, much slower on the hilly ground. Helis had no idea how far away they might be.

They sighed, picked a rock out from between their toes, and set off back the way they’d come.

[gospelofme]

Super Nova

Chapter 5: Well Hello There

“Well, looks like we got ourselves a little Trandoshan stand-off.” Varex quipped amusedly.

“That was stupid.” Sayr felt the need to note, Varex let out a long breath through his nose. The crew of Sidon Ithano had blasters drawn on Varex’s crew, who had their blasters drawn and aiming back. Neither side moved. Sayr reached out with the Force once more, searching for something. Anything. There was a small ping in the Force but it was hard to pinpoint. She accidentally brushed against the consciousness of the man in front of her, who didn’t appreciate that at all.

“Hey! Cut that out!” Kix warned her, keeping Sayr at blaster point. She raised one hand in an apologetic gesture, and then let loose with a blast of energy, shoving the man, Twi’lek, and Captain off their feet. Krev and Varex then opened fire, their targets taking cover behind large boulders. Ithano and his crew soon returned fire, forcing Varex, Krev, and Sayr to take cover as well.

“Should we call for Avi and Darr?” Krev asked, ducking a blast that was too close. Varex took a moment to comm Avi, who was with Darr.

“Avi, Sidon Ithano and some of his crew have us pinned! Check to make sure there aren’t more outside the temple and then come in through the roof!” Varex ordered.

“Where do I find you?” Came Avi’s reply.

“Follow the blaster fire!” Krev yelled into Varex’s comm. From what Sayr remembered, Sidon Ithano had at least 4 members of his crew unaccounted for, and she didn’t know who the man with Ithano and Reveth was. Fresh meat I guess, she mused silently. He was a good shot though, she had to give him that. The man nearly hit her twice, she was just barely able to deflect his bolts with the Force.

On the other side of the room, Reveth commed to Quiggold who had heard the blaster fire erupt from where him and Squeaky stood guard. With comm in one hand and prayer beads in the other, the first mate listened as Reveth relayed that they only see three members of Varex crew, but not the other two.

“Be on the lookout for a Rodian and a Wookiee. We got these three.” She warned, blaster fire could be heard in background.

“A Wookiee, great.” Quiggold replied, not sure how he and Squeaky were supposed to fight off a Wookiee. However, what the peg-legged first mate lacked in height and speed, he made up with in smarts. If Varex was half as smart as he claimed, he would’ve called his teammates for backup. If they’re out here, they may come right across their path. Quickly he and Squeaky hid amongst the large vines that swirled around the temple, blasters at the ready. They’d catch their rivals by surprise.

Avi and Darr had been leaning against a large vine not far from the crevice their comrades had entered. The jungle had been quiet until the sound of blaster fire erupted from within the ruins. Varex’s voice then sounded over Avi’s comm, followed by Krev’s. The two hurried around the ruins, each taking a side so they could catch Ithano’s crew in the middle. However, Avi and Darr only met up again on the other side.

“Maybe they’re not here?” Avi questioned, looking around, his blaster held at the ready. Suddenly a blaster bolt flew from the jungle and grazed Avi’s shoulder. The Rodian cursed and both him and Darr ducked behind some boulders. They would need to take care of the crew members in the jungle first before trying to climb up the side of the temple, as that would leave them pretty exposed.

“We’re taking fire down here! It may be a little bit!” Avi commed back to his boss. The Rodian didn’t know how many pirates were hidden in the jungle, just that the Crimson Corsair usually travelled with at least five other crew members. Varex said some were in the temple ruins, so Avi wasn’t facing five assailants. I’ll just have to assume at least four, he decided going for the highest number possible (even if unlikely) was the best option.

Varex narrowly missed another bolt, this one sending chunks of rock flying. He couldn’t wait for Avi and Darr much longer, and if his two men were facing four others out there, then they’d need back up.

“Nova, go help Avi and Darr and bring them back here!” he yelled to Sayr over the blaster fire. The woman nodded, and left cover. Using the Force, she leapt from the ground to the mouth of the opening above.

“Oh no you don’t.” Kix muttered as he shot a grappling hook at the Force User, the wire twisting around her right leg. He pulled as hard as possible, propping a foot on the boulder he used as cover for leverage. Sayr hadn’t expected the hook, the metal prongs digging into her thick boot sole after swinging around her leg a couple times. The sudden yank ruined her ascent but she was able to grab onto the edge of the opening. Varex immediately fired at the man trying to pull his comrade down. The man was able to duck behind cover, but he still pulled firmly on the line around Sayr’s boot. She tried to pull herself up but the person on the other end was strong. She fought against him, using all the strength she had and a bit of the Force, actually pulling the man off the ground briefly. However, the Temple was fragile and the rock gave way under her, sending her falling back to the ground.

She used the Force to attempt to break her fall, but the floor hadn’t seen this much foot traffic in years, much less a blast of energy. The floor fell away in chunks, a dark chasm opening up between Varex and Krev and Ithano’s crew. Sayr fell right through it, too quickly for Kix to detach the grappling wire from his weapon. Sidon rushed to grab Kix but he wasn’t fast enough and the former clone was yanked forward and dragged right into the abyss with Sayr.

Sayriel attempted to brace herself with the Force once more, but didn’t use as much energy as previously. She still hit the ground hard enough on her back for her diaphragm to spasm and get the wind knocked out of her. As she gasped for air, she narrowly avoided being landed on by the man who’d hooked her. She caught him with the Force, his face inches from hers, and tossed him to the side. She wasn’t too gentle about it. He landed on the stone floor next to her, but was unharmed. She found it impossible to breathe for a moment or two, managing a groaning sound.

“What is it? Are you okay?” The man was suddenly kneeling at her side, looking surprisingly concerned. Sayriel glared at him and shoved him away, and angled her body away from him.

“What are you, like a doctor?” She wheezed once her breathing had returned, she slowly started to stand up. The man tried to help her, but she once again shoved him off.

“Well, I was a field medic….before.” Kix replied, his concern startling him. He had almost forgotten what it was like to act like a medic again. He’d patched up his fellow crew members loads of times, but helping a stranger wasn’t the norm anymore.

“I guess in your past life huh, before you became that.” The woman noted, gesturing at him. He kept his face emotionless when she had mentioned a past life, but it made him anxious inside. He watched as she looked around the empty room, trying to figure out exactly what this area was.

“Well, have fun finding your own way out of here doc.” Sayriel said to Kix, bending her knees and preparing to leap back up into the fray.

When she suddenly felt that ping again, this time much stronger. She looked suddenly in the direction of the feeling, just over the man’s left shoulder. Kix frowned and looked behind him, he didn’t see anything. But he knew that didn’t mean there was nothing there. He watched the Force User shake her head and prepare to jump again, but her head snapped back to that same location.

“What is it?” He asked, she shushed him. He doubted her feeling something was impacted by his speech, he glared at her.

Sayriel walked towards to the location. It was fairly dark here, the light from the hole she’d created only illuminated a small space. But there was an area that looked darker than it’s surroundings; this usually meant there was an opening. Walking past the former-medic-turned-pirate, she edged closer to the opening. She cautiously felt out with her foot and found a step, testing it carefully. She was about to feel out another step when she felt a nudge from the Force. Her Master would’ve instructed her to feel for the next step. She’d have to trust the Force that it was there and she wasn’t going to drop into a deep dark pit of nothing like part of her mind told her. She took a breath and closed her eyes and felt for the next step, and the ones after that.

Kix watched as she found a small set of stairs and began to follow them down. He wasn’t nearly as confident in his footwork as she seemed to be, of course she was a Jedi.

Force user he reminded himself. Keeping one hand on the wall, he followed her down the steps, his eyes slowly adjusting to the tiny bit of light available once he reached a small room where she stood. The room had tiny slivers of light falling through the ceiling where cracks had formed.

“What is this place? A secret room?” He wondered aloud.

“Not necessarily. All temples had a place to store ancient items when they weren’t in use. You didn’t keep an ancient text or a holocron on your desk.” Sayr replied quietly. Her tone implied that he should know this information.

“Yeah, okay then.” Kix shrugged, he really didn’t know what Jedi did. He could hear blaster fire going on still up top, the smoke from the bolts starting to filter down here through the tiny openings above them. He needed to get back to his group, but something had caught this woman’s attention.

Sayriel stood for a moment in the space, her eyes closed despite having someone who was essentially an enemy behind her. She currently didn’t feel much of a threat-like nature emanating from him, but that could change. She kept one hand on her holstered blaster, just in case. Suddenly she felt it again, in the wall, a whispering in the Force. With a wave of her hand, the rocks blocking the area the Force had indicated fell away, and there it was. The small cube, just barely glowing still after all these years. The link this place sits on probably has something to do with it, Sayriel thought to herself. She knelt down and gently picked the cube up, it felt lighter than she thought it would.

“What is it?” The man behind her said, trying to peer around her. Sayriel turned around and tossed the cube up once in her hand.

“Jackpot Doc.” She smirked.

Just then an explosion sounded from somewhere outside the temple, there was absolute silence from everyone. No speaking, no blasters, nothing.

“What the hell was that?!” Varex’s voice sounded over Sayr’s comm.

“I tossed a detonator at the pirates hidden in jungle, but it hit a vine and bounced back.” Avi’s voice came over. As if on cue, the ground and ruins around them started to shake. Bits of rock and dust fell down around Sayr and Kix.

“I’m going to kill that Rodian.” Sayriel muttered.

“Well, I’ll take this so you can go do that.” Kix replied smartly, snatching the holocron from Sayr’s hand and sprinted back up the stairs. Sayriel gave chase, tackling Kix at the top of the stairs. The man was stronger than she gave him credit for and fast. He put a boot on her stomach and, grabbing her wrists, flipped her up and over him. Sayr righted herself quickly and was about to strike at him again when a large rock fell from the surface and landed between them, shattering into smaller pieces on impact. They didn’t have time to fight. Moving quickly she grabbed his upper arm tightly, the man punching her square on the cheek using his free hand. Sayriel took the hit and, using the Force, tossed Kix back up to the level from which they’d fallen. The man gave a startled yell, which gave her some happiness.

“He has the holocron! He can’t get away!” Sayriel commed to Varex, who immediately opened fire on Kix. Reveth returned fire as Ithano pulled his crew member to safety. Sayriel herself then leaped to the next level, teetering on the edge until Krev could grab her shirt and yank her forward. Reveth had already begun to climb the rope they’d lowered earlier to the surface. She pushed Varex’s blaster down.

“We don’t have time anymore, this place is collapsing! We have to move!” Sayriel yelled, grabbing Varex and Force throwing the Zabrak up to the opening in the ceiling. Next she threw Krev out, much to his displeasure, and leapt out herself.

Once out of the ruins, she dodged a blaster bolt from Reveth who was shooting at Varex. Sayriel took ahold of Varex’s shirt and pulled him off the ruins. They didn’t have time to fight right now, that will change once they reach solid ground. She helped Krev away from the crumbling Temple, using the Force to pull him towards her and Varex.

“Stop doing that!” The Chiss exclaimed, shaking his arms and legs as if to rid himself of something unpleasant. Once away from the ruins, Sayriel turned around just in time to see Captain Ithano emerge from the opening. The famed pirate easily leapt down the side of the shifting boulders and landed safely. Kix and Reveth had taken off down the trail back to town, the former clone giving Sayriel a mocking wave as he did so. Glaring at him, she took off and gave chase.

Reveth shoved Kix in front of her, she’d cover him since he had the holocron in his backpack. She fired at Sayr who easily dodged the bolts. Soon they entered the town again, Kix and Reveth dodging crowds and vender stalls. People screamed and hurried out of the way, unsure of what was going on. Part of Kix felt bad when he accidentally bumped into people and they fell, he couldn’t risk stopping to help them up. Reveth just continued to push him forward. They needed to get to the ship. He looked back to see his comrade shove a vender cart in Sayriel’s path, the Force User gracefully leaping over it and continuing her pursuit without missing a beat. He had forgotten how agile those people could be. Soon they were back in the jungle, Kix could feel his face covered in sweat and his legs were starting to hurt. He had worked out fairly regularly since he was found, but he still had a little ways to go until he was back to prime condition. There was a roar and both he and Reveth turned to spot a Wookiee barreling after them behind Sayriel.

“Damn, I forgot she was friends with him.” Reveth said breathlessly as she caught up to Kix. If the Wookiee was close behind them, then the others couldn’t be far away. Reveth hoped her comrades could hold the others off. They rounded a corner and sprinted as fast as possible to put some distance between them and their pursuers. Soon they busted out of the jungle and found themselves back in the clearing. There was only one problem, they had to wait for the rest of the crew. They turned just in time to see Darr enter the clearing behind them, he was sweaty and panting. Darr made a b-line for Kix, who readied his blaster to fire. However just before the Wookiee made it to him, the creature fell down heavily and was being dragged back. Kix looked and spotted Reveth at the controls of one of the large construction cranes, she’d used it’s claw to snag the Wookiee’s leg and hauled the creature up into the air. She locked the controls and left him dangling and roaring angrily. Kix didn’t speak Shyriiwook but he could guess the Wookiee wasn’t wishing him a long and happy life.

That’s when Sayr ran into the clearing. Despite her clothing being soaked with sweat, she kept running full speed, her eyes were locked on Kix. He hadn’t fought a Force User in decades, and then he had multiple brothers backing him up, not just one other comrade. Not that Reveth was useless, far from it actually. It’s just that they may need more back up soon. Using the Force, Sayr shoved Reveth aside, the Twi’lek shooting at her as she tumbled. Sayr dodged those with an easy flip and ducked the ones from Kix’s blaster. Sayr grabbed the man’s blaster and yanked it out of his hands, tossing it aside. He grabbed her wrists and head-butted her in return. Both were visibly dazed by that, Sayr staggering back and blinking. Kix shook his head and blink a few times as well, but held his ground. He hadn’t head-butted anyone without a helmet on in a very long time. Taking advantage of the situation, Kix launched himself into Sayr, who recovered quickly.

“No you don’t.” She mimicked his action from earlier, propelling him up and over her with her foot on his abdomen. The holocron fell out of the backpack and landed between them. The whine of a speeder engine could be heard in the distance. Sayr started to pull the cube into her hand with the Force, Kix scrambling up to intercept it, when suddenly a cord shot out and wrapped around Sayriel’s wrists. She stared at the cord for moment like she didn’t know what it was, her gaze following it to it’s source. Quiggold and Squeaky had arrived on a speeder bike they’d commandeered from the town, they had fired the speeder’s small tow cable at Sayriel. Quiggold then gunned the speeder engines, yanking Sayriel away from Kix and the cube, dragging her across the ground. Captain Ithano appeared from the jungle, followed closely by Varex, Krev, and Avi. Varex fired at Ithano but Reveth covered him as he headed to the ship. They needed to start it up and get out of here. Sayr used the Force to pull on Quiggold’s speeder and was able to get her footing, the first mate fighting back by pushing the speeder forward. Sayr’s boots slid a bit on the ground, but she kept her balance and pulled back with her strength and the Force, focusing on the speeder’s engines. If she could get them to overheat, they’d explode. Kix watched the tug-of-war unfold, grabbing the cube from the ground and securing it back in his backpack. He had almost forgotten what Force Users were capable of. The engines of speeder sparked and little pops started to sound off from the innards of the machine.

“Cut her loose Squeaky!” Quiggold yelled over the screaming speeder engines. The Gamorrean swung a small axe from his belt and severed the cord. The sudden slack on the cord almost knocked Sayr off her feet, but she held the speeder.

Kix needed a way to distract her before she blew up his comrades. Tossing the backpack to Reveth, he ran to the crane that still held up the Wookiee, who struggled against the metal claw enclosed around his leg. Jumping into the operating chair, he unlocked the controls and swung the crane around. The Wookiee was now positioned directly above the woman called Nova. Darr called down to Sayr who glanced up and then over to Kix, who released the Wookiee from the crane. It worked. Sayr released the speeder just in time to catch the Wookiee before he landed on her. Quiggold and Squeaky sped towards the now running ship, jumping off the speeder and running up the ramp. Kix followed closely behind.

As the ship took off, the former clone turned and looked at the Force User, who was still holding the Wookiee up. She looked furious. He smirked and gave her a mocking salute as the ramp retracted and the door closed. Sayriel watched the ship fly away, and the holocron with it. She was exhausted, it had been a while since she’d used the Force to that extent. She gently set Darr on the ground and sat down herself, placing her head between her knees.

“Don’t look so glum.” Varex said, seemingly too cheerful about the fact they lost one of the holocrons. He seemed to read the look on her face easily, pulling out his datapad in response. Sayriel took it and looked at the screen, a small dot beeped with a set of coordinates near it.

“A tracker. You put a tracker on the ship.” She said wearily, Varex nodded and pulled his friend to her feet.

“Since we know where they’re going, we’ll have a bit of an advantage. We can search other possible locations and then retrieve the holocrons they find.” Krev said. The possibility of some sweet revenge made Sayr feel better.

Tag list

@jgvfhl @owls-spice-cabinet @leias-left-hair-bun @halzore @escapedthesarlacc @eyecandyeoz @kungfuslipper

[lady-wallace]

Blood On Sand (Febuwhump Day 8: “This is No Time to Sleep”)

For today’s @febuwhump​ prompt: “Hey, hey, This is No Time to Sleep”

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders

Synopsis: Tag to Wheel of Fortune arc: Jotaro was injured worse than he thought but they're stranded out in the desert. It's up to Kakyoin to watch over Jotaro while the others go for help.

Thanks to @bzr35​ for helping me pick this prompt!

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

If you’re enjoying my stories, check out my ko-fi! (I also do art and fic commissions) Or, if you just want to buy me a coffee, feel free to request a doodle :)

~~~~~~~

The sun was pounding down mercilessly, and Kakyoin watched tensely from the backseat of the car as Joseph and Polnareff tried to fix the decrepit engine which had given out on them about half an hour earlier. From the sound of it, Kakyoin didn't really think that they would be going anywhere else in this car.

What was more worrying, however, was his companion sitting in the seat next to him. Jotaro slumped against the door, head tilted toward his chest, hat pulled down low. His shallow breathing hitched every time he shifted, telling just how much pain he was in. Jotaro may have won the fight against Wheel of Fortune but he'd taken twice the amount of hits as the rest of them, and had suffered burns on top of that.

Kakyoin's attention was returned to Joseph as the older man sighed and reluctantly lowered the hood. "It's no use. There's only so much tinkering I can do. This car is shot."

"So we're stranded out here?" Anne screeched.

"Of course not!" Joseph grinned at her. "You have legs, don't you?"

Kakyoin pressed his lips together, glancing toward Jotaro again, who didn't even seem to register what was happening. Normally this would only be an annoying set-back, but he wasn't sure Jotaro could even walk to the nearest civilization.

"Come on, boys!" Joseph called.

Jotaro startled and blinked, looking confused for a second before he clumsily reached for the door handle and opened it.

Kakyoin was already out of the car by the time his friend stumbled to his feet.

"Jotaro, are you okay?" Joseph asked him.

"Yeah," came the terse reply.

"Let's go then."

Joseph took the lead and Jotaro followed, but only managed a few steps before he swayed. Kakyoin hurriedly ducked in and grabbed his elbow, accidently gripping a burned patch of skin. Jotaro grunted, face paling slightly.

"Mr. Joestar!" Kakyoin called. "I don't think Jotaro's going to make it walking that far right now."

Jotaro grunted and tried to pull away from him. "I said I'm fine."

But another swaying step, proved differently and this time it was Joseph who caught and steadied him.

"No, I think Kakyoin is right," the older man said worriedly. "You got hit harder than I thought."

Jotaro was breathing heavily as he still attempted to push himself upright. "We don't…have time for this!" he panted.

Kakyoin felt his chest tighten as he saw something akin to panic in Jotaro's eyes. Not for his own sake, but for fear of his mother's condition.

"Well, what do we do then? We still need a car," Polnareff said.

"Not to mention some better medical supplies," Kakyoin stated blandly. They hadn't even had burn cream. He stepped forward. "I'll stay here with Jotaro. The rest of you go to the nearest town and see if you can find a car."

Jotaro shot him a look before turning back to his grandfather. "Jiji, come on…I'm—"

"No, Jotaro," Kakyoin cut in firmly. "They'll be quicker walking alone. We'd have to slow down for you anyway. It will probably be about the same length of time for them to get there and drive back. You know you're not going to get far in that condition."

Jotaro glowered at him for a long moment, but Kakyoin stood his ground firmly, lifting his chin, and finally Jotaro glanced away, pulling his hat down as his body shook from the obvious strain he was feeling just keeping himself upright.

"I do agree that it will be better this way, but are you sure you'll be okay here alone?" Joseph asked worriedly.

Kakyoin didn't like the idea of splitting up either, but considering they had just defeated a Stand user they might get at least a little reprieve. "Hierophant will be able to tell if someone is coming."

Joseph nodded, if not a little reluctantly. "Okay. Stay off the road, and keep safe."

Kakyoin nodded and took a firmer hold on Jotaro, leading him back to the car, propping him against the side as Joseph, Polnareff and Anne started off down the road. Jotaro grunted, raising a shaky hand to pull his hat down further over his eyes. Kakyoin squinted in the sun, feeling it beating down on him and knowing that it had to be even worse for Jotaro who had lost his coat—and with the burns…

Kakyoin looked around, but there was no shade anywhere nearby this time of day. The rocky cliff face to their right wouldn't offer a shadow until hours later. He was going to have to do something though, because Jotaro had lost a lot of blood, some of it still seeping from the bad patch job they'd done with little more than band-aids Polnareff had had in his bag, and he was looking worse and worse by the second, face pale, sweat dripping off his skin.

Then he swayed, knees shaking and Kakyoin caught him quickly around the waist, trying to steady the taller boy. Jotaro let out a sharp gasp, stiffening.

"Sorry," Kakyoin said, wincing as he realized he must have grabbed one of the burns. "Come on, you should sit down."

Jotaro grunted, but didn't protest when Kakyoin dragged him around the car and settled him down. This was the only place that there was any sort of shade, just a couple feet of it, but it was better than nothing.

There really was something deadly about the desert sun though. It wasn't like the muggy heat of summers back in Japan; it was merciless, pounding into your head.

Jotaro landed heavily, legs sprawled out in front of him, still bared to the sun. Kakyoin winced as he saw a patch above Jotaro's knee where his trousers had been burned through, revealing a pink patch of skin. There were more on his arms and neck, and a couple that had gone through his shirt. Jotaro leaned his head back against the side of the car, eyes closed.

"Hey," Kakyoin said suddenly, really starting to get worried by Jotaro's unresponsiveness. "How about some water?"

Jotaro grunted, giving a small nod. Kakyoin hurriedly rummaged through their supplies and found a couple canteens. He took one and handed it to Jotaro but the other teen's hands were shaking too much to open the cap. Kakyoin swiftly retrieved it and untwisted the cap, then held it for Jotaro to drink from.

"M'fine," Jotaro muttered, reaching up to grab the bottle, only to spill it down his chin.

Kakyoin sighed and took it back, helping Jotaro drink. He took several large gulps before he settled back, closing his eyes, shifting uncomfortably on the rocky ground. His skin was starting to tint red and not just from the injuries and the burns.

Kakyoin worried at his lip, he really needed to get Jotaro out of the sun before he burned up.

Suddenly, he had an idea. He took his uniform coat off and tucked the tail into the car's door before stretching it across Jotaro and anchoring it to a large rock that sat a couple feet away, making a sort of tiny sunshade. Jotaro glanced up at it briefly, and seemed to relax a little now that the sun wasn't beating onto him directly.

"Thanks," he murmured. "But you…"

"I'm fine," Kakyoin assured him. He still had his long-sleeved shirt to protect him, and there was enough shade to cover him a little bit at least. "I only have a couple shallow injuries. Two of those gasoline bullets went right through you, and I know the burns must be bad, especially in this heat."

Jotaro grunted non-committedly, slumping further against the car, tucking his long legs up fully into the shade, bracing his feet against the rock.

Kakyoin sat in silence for a couple more minutes, noticing Jotaro's clenching fists, before he said. "They'll be quick. You know we all have the same goals, Jotaro."

Jotaro refused to look at him, but his hands seemed to loosen just slightly. Kakyoin set his jaw, knowing how he would feel if it was his mother in danger. That was part of the reason why he came along to begin with.

Jotaro shifted as if seeking a more comfortable position and his back slid against the side of the car, causing him to hiss in pain. Kakyoin glanced over and saw a smear of blood, more drops falling into the sand before.

"Jotaro, you're still bleeding!"

Jotaro glanced down, blinking at the drops of blood. "Said I'm fine."

"Not if we don't stop that bleeding," Kakyoin put his foot down in exasperation and reached into the car again, pulling out a scrap that had been left over from earlier bandaging. He pushed Jotaro forward and pressed hard against the still-bleeding hole through Jotaro's shoulder.

"Dammit, Kakyoin," he growled, the first real reaction Kakyoin had gotten out of him.

"Sorry, but I have to put pressure on this. I'm not going to let you bleed out."

Jotaro gritted his teeth, and Kakyoin caught a flash of something in his eyes before he looked away. Was it…fear? Kakyoin wasn't entirely sure what he'd seen, but it was definitely not something he would expect from Jotaro Kujo.

Jotaro shifted again and Kakyoin checked the wound before pressing harder. Jotaro bowed slightly, another choked off sound escaping his throat. Kakyoin felt him trembling too, more sweat beading on his skin, dripping down to join the drops of blood.

The amount of blood that had soaked into the back of Jotaro's undershirt was not something that gave Kakyoin a good feeling. The other boy really needed stitches for these wounds.

He was able to get the bleeding down to a trickle again, and grabbed more of the scraps and the last of the gauze.

"I'm going to try to plug this," he said. "It will hurt, but it will stop the bleeding."

Jotaro grunted non-committedly and Kakyoin removed the wad of bloody cloth, pulled Jotaro's shirt away from his shoulder and shoved the gauze into the wound.

Jotaro stiffened, a sharp gasp escaping him as his hands clenched in his lap. Kakyoin hurriedly pressed the cloth back over the wound and began tying it off tight against Jotaro's shoulder, hoping that would keep him from bleeding too much more.

He was just finishing up when Jotaro started to sag, and then slumped completely to the side.

Kakyoin's eyes widened and he reached out and grabbed him, hurriedly propping him back up. "Jotaro! Hey!" he shook him. "Hey, this is no time to fall asleep! You hear me? You need to stay awake!"

Jotaro's eyes slit open with a moan, blinking. "Too loud," he grunted.

"Sorry, but you need to stay awake. You're going into shock from blood loss and that's not a good thing," Kakyoin said, trying to keep from panicking. "Just don't pass out on me!"

Jotaro let out a long breath and slumped back against the car, looking like he was fighting to keep his head up, squinting. "'S really hot," he murmured, more sweat dripping down his face as his body shook.

Kakyoin pressed his lips together and reached for the canteen again, offering it to Jotaro to take a few more swallows before he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wet it. He reached out to press it against Jotaro's face.

Jotaro jerked back. "What're ya' doin'?" he slurred.

"Keeping you cool," Kakyoin said firmly. "You might want to take off your hat."

Jotaro ducked away again, turning his head away. "No way."

Kakyoin sighed, but worked around it, dabbing the sweat and blood from Jotaro's face and neck before refreshing the cloth again, settling it against the back of his neck.

Jotaro sighed and started to slump again. Kakyoin nudged him. "Come on, don't sleep."

"Trying," Jotaro murmured and he sounded so tired and worn down that Kakyoin felt something twist in his stomach. He hadn't once seen Jotaro lose his cool though he knew that he had nightmares and would bury his head under the pillows at night, sometimes shaking with pent-up emotion. The fact he was slipping now when he knew someone was watching told Kakyoin just how badly he was hurt.

"Talk to me," Jotaro suddenly said, startling Kakyoin.

The red-head resumed his ministrations, feeling suddenly at a loss for words. "About what?"

"Anything," Jotaro said. "Just…keep me awake. You've always got a lot to talk about."

"Well, okay," Kakyoin said and thought about it, looking around for inspiration. "You know, I read this really interesting article once about the desert ecosystem…"

Enough time passed to give them more shade, and though Kakyoin could tell that Jotaro was still only barely hanging on, he was hanging on and that's what mattered. He talked about whatever came into his head and Jotaro listened, nodding or sometimes giving a small sound of acknowledgement. Sometimes even a mumbled question or comment. It was kind of nice actually. Kakyoin had never had anyone to talk to like this besides his parents and though they were always patient and showed interest in what he was interested in, there was something different about talking to a friend who genuinely seemed to enjoy listening to what he had to say. He would never have suspected that Jotaro was so interested in nature and biology and such, but he didn't think that his friend's attention was faked either. It wasn't like he really had the capacity at the moment.

Still, Jotaro was hurting, sure enough, and Kakyoin felt a huge relief when he heard the sound of an engine and saw a jeep pull up next to their car.

He stood up from under their tiny lean-to as Joseph and Polnareff jumped out of the car.

"Kakyoin!" Joseph called, hurrying over.

"Mr. Joestar," Kakyoin sighed in relief.

"How is he?" the old man asked.

"I was able to keep him conscious, but I had to stop the bleeding in his shoulder again. He really needs more attention," Kakyoin said worriedly.

Joseph nodded and knelt to see to his grandson as Kakyoin pulled his coat down, folding it over his arm.

"Jiji," Jotaro murmured as Joseph put a kindly palm to his cheek. The fact Jotaro didn't even pull away was telling.

"We're back, Jojo. Kakyoin, help me get him to the car. It's only a half-hour's drive back to the town."

Kakyoin and Joseph pulled Jotaro to his feet and mostly carried him to the car. They got him into the back and Kakyoin folded his coat around Jotaro's shoulders. It was small but would do a little bit of good at least.

Polnareff and Joseph grabbed the rest of their stuff from the other car and then they were on their way.

Kakyoin glanced over at Jotaro who was slumped against the door, but his eyes were open, meeting the other boy's gaze.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

Kakyoin nodded, a small smile on his lips. "No problem." He paused then said. "But you still can't sleep until we get you proper medical attention."

Jotaro huffed something like a frustrated laugh.

"I know what will keep you up!" Polnareff announced. "Singing!" And he launched into some raucous French song.

"Good grief," Jotaro groaned, ducking down as Kakyoin stuck his fingers in his ears. "You should have left me to bleed out."

They all laughed as Polnareff got offended but they were safe for now, and that was all that mattered.

[paceprompting]

Climbing into Chairs Pt. 1

John puttered around the kitchen, talking softly to Rosie who was watching him with rapt attention, a yellow teething ring held in one hand. 

“I’m sure Sherlock wouldn’t mind some lunch. You think, darling?” Rosie babbled her agreement, leaning forward over her legs to stare at Sherlock in the living room. She very quickly recognized Sherlock as a figure in her life, and often watched this strange man who she and her father now lived with.

Seeing Rosie quite content to stare at Sherlock while he sat, fingers steepled at his lips, and staring into his mind palace – in reality at nothing – John paid full attention to his cooking on the stove, humming under his breath.

In a way quite quietly for a young child, Rosie crawled across the kitchen, teething toy abandoned behind her. Her hands slapped softly on the hardwood, but John remained cooking. Her eyes were fixed on Sherlock and she only moved from her path of a straight line when John’s chair ended up in her way.

She stopped directly at the base of Sherlock’s chair in the space between his long legs and stared up at him. Normally, even Sherlock would give her some attention when she decided to come to him instead of John. 

Since John and Rosie had come to live at Baker Street, Sherlock had not had very difficult cases. Barely worth the effort most of the time, but a newly-widowed John Watson was not a John Watson even Sherlock would make completely responsible for rent and groceries. 

A locked-door homicide and kidnapping, with no sign of a struggle and very little blood, however…required the mind palace.

Rosie scowled at Sherlock. He could at least give her his long and spindly fingers to examine. Possibly gnaw on.

Unused to this, Rosie stretched and reached out to grip the edge of the chair cushion, grunting as she leveraged herself onto her feet. Still, Sherlock stared ahead.

Her scowl deepened and Rosie made a soft sound to herself. She reached out again and curled her fingers into Sherlock’s pants, and attempted (though she had never before) to pull herself up onto Sherlock’s chair purely by her own strength. 

Sherlock, deep inside his own head, still didn’t notice an almost-toddler trying to climb him like a jungle gym. 

Inhibited by the little space available for her and her developing muscles, Rosie ended up stuck with her arms around Sherlock’s knees, one foot braced on the front of the chair and her diapered butt sticking out behind her. 

“Seryok!” she cried.

He blinked and his hands fell away from his lips, eyes now right on Rosie. John cursed in surprise, dropping his stirring spoon on the floor with a clatter. 

Rosie grunted and readjusted the grip of one of her hands, eyes big towards Sherlock.

“Help.” she said.

As John hurried to get everything off to stove and avoid burning, throwing pans and ingredients all over the kitchen, Sherlock lifted Rosie out of her uncomfortable position and stood her on the cushion in front of him. She hummed pleasantly, and when Sherlock adjusted her pink dress, she copied him, brushing her hand down her front.

John strode into the living room, a streak of sauce on his jumper. His chest was heaving a bit and his brows were arcing up toward his hairline, but upon finding his daughter perfectly content examining Sherlock, he stopped and let out a long exhale. 

“I’m sorry she distracted you.” John cleared his throat and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. He started forward again toward Rosie and Sherlock as he continued, “I know you have this case and if she’s being a bother-” 

“It’s not a bother, John.” This stopped John in his tracks, arms outstretched to retrieve Rosie. Sherlock brushed a blonde curl from her face, which made her scrunch up her nose when it tickled. “Not a bother.”

After a quiet moment, and John lowered his arms, he cracked a smile and fell into his chair across from Sherlock’s. He cocked his head while watching Rosie compare her hand to Sherlock’s, letting out little ah’s and hums.

“Seryok…” he murmured. 

At the word, Rosie laughed and poked a finger at Sherlock’s nose. He returned with a light tap on hers.

“Believe it’s my name, John.”

Sherlock’s eyes flicked up and met with John’s, a small smile across his face. John’s chest lifted at the sight

She was a little early in picking up real words, but even that was quite the word for a barely-one-year-old. He stood from his chair and stepped over behind Rosie, resting one hand on her back.

“Who’s this, Rosie-dear?” He pointed over her shoulder.

“Seryok.” She replied, turning and frowning at her father for such a question. It was a very Sherlock tone she was using – an obvious answer that John had been unaware of. He chuckled and pressed a kiss into her hair.

 “Weren’t you preparing something?” Sherlock asked as Rosie began poking him in different places, then wait for him to do the same.

John smiled at Sherlock and Rosie.

           “Not important.”

First part of my Johnlock 5+1 Things Fic: Five times Rosie loves Sherlock, and the one time John does too (even though he does all the time). You can find the fully up-to-date fic on A03, or find each part on tumblr as I post them.

I also take prompts! They can be Johnlock, or any other ship I’ve written before. If you’re not sure, just ask! You can send your prompts into my tumblr or on my A03, which is the same user as here.

[yandere-daydreams]

The Sun And Moon (And Anonymous Submission)

It was a monumental day for the Kingdom of Blessings, Halcyon. The kingdom was known for its magical blessing that was passed on through generations. A brand-new princess had received the blessing of tides from her mother, although the new heir’s blessing would be different. The blessing of tides ensured safe trade and would curse any pirates who would attempt to pillage the kingdom. Calling the blessing powerful is an understatement.

The new heir, Princess Lyria Astra Halcyon, was given the blessing of the sun. It would ensure that every harvest was massively successful, and that her people would never know famine or hunger. The people rejoiced, or almost all of them did.

Young Nox, born into the house Canis, Halcyon’s loyal wolves, was not at all thrilled about the situation. He had a perfect seat to view the princess’ squishy and pink face. ‘I am to be this tiny thing’s thrall? What a joke.’ House Canis raised the strongest knights in the entire continent, and they had been serving the royal family since its inception. Each member of the royal Halcyon family was assigned a personal guard. Nox’s father was within eyeshot of the queen at this very moment, eyeing suspiciously for threats.

Nox was only five, but the brutal training regimen had already begun. By the end of it, his stamina would allow him to give up sleep entirely in favor of light meditation so he could be on guard 24/7. His bones would be as strong as forged steel, and he’d be able to wield the iconic Canis zweihander one-handed. The impressive blades were nearly as long as the users were tall. It was perfect for the monsters in house Canis who could all singlehandedly mow down entire invading battalions. It would take years before Nox could get to that point, however.

And years had indeed passed. A lot of things had changed since that faithful day, mainly Nox’s opinion on the princess. Nox was expecting his life of duty to be an unpleasant one – one filled with the endless whining of a spoiled princess. In truth, it was the opposite. Princess Lyria was warm like the very sun. She stopped crying almost as soon as she could communicate her feelings. Tripping would prompt a laugh, or so Nox recalled between long days of training.

When he finally finished the brutal process, the Princess was thirteen, and it was then that he never left her side as dictated by tradition. He was there for her lectures, her meals, and as she slept. He was barely seen and even less heard. For all intents and purposes he was furniture.

It was the Princess’ thirteenth birthday. All of her gifts had been sent to her room in the middle of her meal. It was his duty to open all of them first to make sure there were no traps. The Princess never complained even though it was most certainly more fun to open your own presents. She made a note of all of them, and made a list of all the people she needed to thank, but then she turned to him.

“Nox,” he lowered himself to one knee. She had addressed him before to make light conversation, but he kept his distance due to his lack of warm upbringing and his lingering skepticism. “Why do you always do that? You don’t have to kneel before me.”

He rose to his feet. It wasn’t exactly an order, but he didn’t mind listening to the tiny heir. “I don’t know when your birthday is.”

“I don’t have one.” It was the truth. House Canis didn’t do trivial things like celebrate one’s birth. Their entire duty was to serve. He honestly didn’t know what day it would fall on.

“I figured you’d say that.” The princess was always observant of her surroundings, and she was pretty sharp regarding social situations. She was smart enough to avoid getting involved in anything political at this early age. There were plenty of nobles who would want to get their claws into the princess early, but Nox hadn’t needed to council her on that front. She was good enough at taking care of this herself despite her age.

“So, I figured now was as good a time as any to give you this. I’ve known you for so long, and we’re always together now. I wish to be good friends with you.” She headed to a corner of her room looking for something.

“I am but your faithful servant.” He replied. To be honest he was shocked, but his face remained unmoved like a marble sculpture. Years of training and his upbringing made him really apathetic and cold. But he never expected anything like this. Nox never received presents from others and he wasn’t sure what to expect from the princess. 

She approached Nox with a dagger of immaculate steel. It was patterned, made from meteorite. It was expensive but also practical. Daggers from meteorite were top of their class even if they looked ornate.

“You should know by now that I don’t even treat the other servants like servants.” It was true. She treated the common people like they were kin. “We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, so try and smile every once in a while.”

“You wish to see me smile?” The warmth swelled within him threatening to consume him. This was the first request she had ever made of him. Princess Lyria extended the gift to him, and his first instinct was to drop to one knee. He remembered the princess’ words.

“More than anything.” Nox accepted the gift and braced himself. The warmth had come to a head, and he best convey what he was feeling internally for his first request. He gave her a faint but unmistakable smile. 

He would definitely enjoy protecting this one.

More than five years had passed since then. Princess Lyria had come of age and she was on her first trip outside of the kingdom. She was to spend a month in a neighboring kingdom to make acquaintance with a potential suitor. Nox was in full armor accompanying a squad of five other Halcyon knights as entourage.

True to her word, he became the princess’ closest friend and confidant. She would share all of her insecurities and fears with him, and he would advise her as best as he could. Every once in a while, she would call him into her room and they’d spend the nights talking until the sun came up. Princess Lyria would, of course, feign illness the next day, too exhausted to fulfill her duties.

By this point, Nox had fallen hopelessly in love with the princess. He had also come to terms with the fact that he’d never have her. She was the sun, and she blessed everything she touched with warmth and prosperity. He was the moon, barren and cold. They were from different worlds, destined to never share the same sky.

He glanced at the princess who seemed not to notice his gaze. She was riding alongside him in her most extravagant dress. Stars, she was beautiful, like no one else. His heart rate rose and she noticed he was looking at her. She smiled warmly, and he had smiled back until he could no longer keep his composure. He looked forward. They’d be in the neighboring kingdom by nightfall.

Or so Nox thought before a flurry of arrows fired from the forests around. His horse had fallen, as did the lesser knights. He had managed to catch three arrows in one hand, and a fourth in his other – ones that would have hit their mark. In the very same instant, he jumped from his horse so he wouldn’t be caught beneath it when it fell. Bandits on horseback leapt on to the road and grabbed the princess’ reigns before swatting the horse. The horse took off, with the princess unable to escape.

How could he have been so distracted that he didn’t notice them walking into such an obvious trap? The king would pay a hefty ransom to have his daughter back, and this was probably what the bandits were aiming for. The other bandits had fled. No one was dumb enough to attack someone from house Canis even if they outnumbered him 100 to 1. Nox took off after them on foot, but he’d lose sight of them shortly superhuman strength and speed or not.

He didn’t see any distinguishing markings so he wouldn’t be able to discern which troupe they belonged to, but it didn’t matter. House Canis had one ace in the hole that he had spent these last years preparing for. Royal family Halcyon wasn’t the only family with a blessing. As a member of House Canis, he had the blessing of wolves. This would allow him to sense the location of the person he spent the most time with. Without stopping to think, he ran after the princess.

He ran for countless miles. They were definitely off the beaten path, and without his blessing he would have never found princess Lyria. He charged right into the cave, and drew his sword. He could hear the echoes of voices from within.

“So, we only need to get her back to the king alive?” A voice said.

“Yeah doesn’t matter what we do as long as she lives.” Another voice replied.

His grip around his sword tightened. It looks like he made it just in time. He entered the main hall. “Princess Lyria, close your eyes!” He yelled.

There was clamoring, and then confusion. Countless men filled the cave, at least 80. He charged straight past the ones at the very entrance and aimed for the ones who had their filthy hands on his precious princess.

“How the fuck did he find this place? And this fast? He doesn’t even have a horse.” A voice yelled

“He must have ran all the way here. He’s probably exhausted. Kill him, it’s just one man!”

Nox was surrounded before he could reach the two he was really aiming for. With a whirl of his sword he cut the lot who surrounded him in half. Another group took their place, and another swing knocked them down. Attacking in groups was futile, but so was attacking one at a time. The morale of the group plummeted, and the rest was hesitant about approaching.

One of the bandits with his hands on the princess spoke up. “Whoever brings me his head gets the first go at the princess. Don’t any of you want to deflower the fucking princess of Halcyon” That one’s the leader, he assumed. He narrowed his eyes. The remaining bandits’ morale spiked and they all attacked in a flurry. He’d cut one down, and then crush the skull of the next. He’d kick the one after that so hard their neck broke. It didn’t matter how many came at him, he’d just kill them all.

Leaving a trail of corpses in his wake, he had almost arrived at the back of the cave. The bandit leader looked on in horror as half of his men had been massacred, and the rest had fled. Now? It was just him, the wolf, and the princess.

The bandit leader drew his knife. His hands shook so much that he could barely hold it. This man was barely worth killing – or so he’d say if he were dueling him. He was the mastermind who took the princess from him. He took a good look at her. He wasn’t worried about what the bandit would do.

The princess’ wrists were bound in rope. Her wrists were red, and her face had the faint wetness of freshly shed tears.

She cried?

She was so scared she cried?

The first time she had cried was because Nox had failed to protect her.

Nox’s eyes narrowed into a look of absolute rage, and he directed it at the bandit leader who squealed in fear.

“Don’t come any closer!” He flailed the knife wildly in the air.

Nox was considering all kinds of execution methods. Before he could settle on one the bandit leader had buckled. He stabbed himself in the throat, ending his own life.

Well bleeding out is definitely not an amazing way to go.

Nox picked up the princess who yelped in surprise.

“Fear not princess Lyria, I have rescued you. Oh, but keep your eyes closed. This isn’t something you should see.”

“Nox! I knew you’d come!” They walked in silence until they were out of the cave. Nox undid her bindings and gingerly inspected her wrists.

“I’ll put something on that when we’re home.” Princess Lyria threw her arms around him.

“I was so scared.” Yes, she was. She was scared enough to cry. Remembering this Nox bit into his lip. He felt the princess shake. Why? Was she okay?  He pulled her back to see that she was crying again with the biggest smile on her face.

“I knew you wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. I’m so happy you’re okay. That was really dangerous.” She was crying?  She was crying because she was happy to see him.

Suddenly Nox could feel his heart hammering in his throat. And he slowly began to spiral.

The princess cried tears of happiness for him. This was a face only he had seen… He would make sure he was the only one who’d ever see this face. This was a feeling beyond simple love and devotion. It was something deeper. What would he do to keep it? Well… He’d burn the entire castle down and kill everyone in it if it meant he could be the one at her side.

Yes. That’s right. He was the one meant to be at her side. It was him and no one else.

“Nox?” The princess asked worried. He had been lost in thought. He picked her up.

“We don’t have a horse. The sun’s setting, but we’ll be back at the crack of dawn. I’ll carry you.”

“What about you?” She asked. Of course, she was more concerned about him than herself. He suppressed a shudder. Oh, how sweet she was. He took a deep breath and inhaled her scent. It was part sweat from being out in the sun for most of the day and part flowery perfume so she could be presentable. To the princess it would look like a sigh.

“I could walk for…. Hmmmm.” He playfully mulled it over. “A week perhaps without sleeping?” He flashed her a smile.

“Wow Nox you’re amazing!” Princess Lyria ran her hand through his hair. Her dainty fingers were his reward for his slaughter. She could never know about this darkness swirling deep inside of him. She would never know.

They had arrived at the castle. Princess Lyria had been returned to her room. She was sleeping on the way back, but she was very tired after her ordeal. Nox left her side for the first time since he could remember.

He was summoned by his father and grandfather.

“How could you let this happen, worthless boy? You have only one job to do, so do it right. You’re a disgrace!” It was the usual punishment, a whipping. Nox zoned out. The whips weren’t reaching him in his stupor. His mind was on the princess – her weight and form that he held for the first time. The cracking of whips filled the dungeon.

More suitors would come… probably to Halcyon to avoid a disaster like this happening again.

Should he kill them discreetly? Make it look like an accident?

That would only work so many times.

How?

Was there an answer to the question he was looking for?

Could they ever be happy together?

Do they even need to be happy?

These thoughts rang inside Nox’s head through out the duration of the whipping. There was one climactic, dark conclusion he came to.

If he can’t have her… no one could.

[ashiversary]

Adaptability

Adaptability:

1. A pokemon ability that increases the power of moves of the same type as the user. Common species with this ability include porygon, basculin and eevee.

2. The ability to acclimatise efficiently and fast to changed circumstances

◊

The umbreon tent at the Opal City Eevee And Evolutions Event is a good place to be, Go thinks, even though it’s early. The darkness means it’s refreshingly cool compared to outside, the ‘dark night’ coffees sold by the door are both delicious and immensely caffeinated, and the newly-evolved Instinct umbreons are sleeping (for once) in relative silence. It’s so early, in fact, that there’s only one other guest in this row. They’re pretty short, with red hair, lots of piercings and wait a minute-

“Uh, Amelie?”

Her eye flicks briefly towards him.

“Hello, Go.”

Oh. Great. He turns to look at what she’s eyeing.

It’s a good specimen from a show perspective, Go can tell. The eyes are bright and cheri-red, the coat ink-black and glossy, and the thick gold bands from evolving under a full harvest moon have a soft but powerful glow. It’s a pretty attractive pokemon for a team who deal in stolen goods, so Go braces for a knee to the stomach and hopes someone will call for security before he hits the ground.

When a minute has passed with no attack he dares to crack an eye open to look at her.

“Picking good ones to steal later? They’re all tagged and chipped you know-”

“No.”

“Planning to steal the prize money?”

“Not really.”

“Then why are you here at an eevee convention?”

She fixes him with a look and- oh.

He’s suddenly very glad Spark stayed behind. Arceus only knows the carnage that would result from him, her boss and hundreds of eevee all in the same place.

Anyway, Go, focus.

There’s no members of the public admitted right now, but there’s still a handful of breeders primping their umbreons before the gates open, and although he’s got over a foot of height on her Go doesn’t think for a minute that’ll stop him from being handed his ass if things get dicey. (Amelie did focus solely on his uninjured side when they met after the last big fight though, so that was… thoughtful? Less brutal than the majority of Rocket?)

The point is, it’s early, there’s no high-level trainers anywhere nearby and a member of Team Rocket is next to him at an Eevee Exhibition. So what should he do?

Go shrugs.

“Want to get breakfast?”

“So,” Amelie asks when they’re sat near a food stand fifteen minutes later, “Why are you here?”

He shrugs, chasing the last pieces of tamato berry around the tray.

“Some of the special entrants in the main exhibition are from Instinct Hatcheries, like that flying-type eeveelution, the dual-type vaporeon and, uh… Dumpling the shiny kit? Do you know about him?”

She nods and - wait, of course she’ll know about Dumpling, given who her boss is. Go’s certain that despite the frequent recorded visits from Mystic One on file at the kit’s hatchery, Leader Blanche themself has never actually set foot in the place.

He continues, regardless. “Because of the ties Instinct have with a lot of the organizers, we- as in, high-ranking Instinct Trainers – got special passes for the event.”

Go’s not entirely sure why he got one, really. Okay, yes, his name is down on paper as Instinct Two, but he’ll be the first to admit that compared to any of Spark’s Elite Four he’s way behind. Why is he here again?

He’s always been good at rolling with the punches, though, literal or otherwise. He’s adaptable.

(In this job, with his boss, you need to be. Otherwise you just might not survive.)

◊

The theory goes:

A standard, purebred eevee with no external influences will evolve in accordance with its environment - one who lives wild by a lake and hunts for food in the water will tend towards vaporeon, habitats of warm homes as cherished pets create sylveon, those raised on spiritual sites or alongside psychics evolve into espeon (and everyone knows not to leave kits near the psychic Gym Leader of Saffron City unless, for whatever reason, you want a rambunctious feline unable to manage its considerable newfound strength back right after).

Even amongst the same species there are further physiological variations. The rare wild leafeon studied in arctic tundra environments have stubby near-black leaves with a waxy finish, slow metabolisms, and a secondary ice-typing. Amongst professional breeders and co-ordinators different leafeon with unusual foliage, such as delicate ornamental leaves or chubby cacti greenery, are a hit. The reigning Kalos Queen making an appearance even has an exquisite rose leafeon as her signature companion - far too finicky for the average trainer, too fragile for regular battling. And yet, much like a wild eevee and its evolution, it’s perfectly adapted for its current environment. 

(Go figure, Go thinks as he takes a high-speed rose to the face at the front of the crowd, Amelie looking suspiciously like she’s trying to hide a smile).

But the environment is only half the puzzle. If exposed to a standard water stone, a wild eevee will undergo rapid evolution into what most would consider a ‘classic’ vaporeon – neck frill, aqua blue colouring, finned tail - even if its habitat is a frozen plain or an electrified cave.

So, as Annie had explained to him over one of the few dinners Spark or Zapdos (is there a difference, really?) hadn’t been able to crash and burn, the leading theory is that the eevee ignores its previous adaptations and rapidly adjusts in order to cope with a sudden influx of energy the stone contains - similar to how other species can go years with no sign of pending evolution but then once exposed to the right conditions, boom, a distressed golem is now stuck in your bathroom. 

“Look,” she’d said, dragging out a tablet from her purse, “The main idea is the stone itself is a strong energy source – the eevee suddenly adapts to this exposure and the energy drives the evolution to completion in seconds, but because most of these stones are similar in chemical composition the final vaporeons are also pretty identical.”

Huh, he’d thought, so that’d been why Mystic had requested a large number of eevee kits a few months before, and why so many of their high-rank trainers had similar vaporeons on their teams now. He’d assumed it was just for the team aesthetic, really, but they must have been adopted out once the research programme had wrapped up.

Annie had continued, nearly knocking over her glass as she’d gestured at the screen.

“But then we’ve got to consider that items such as Razor Fangs and Claws are similar energy sources, or possibly catalysts. We now know certain stones and trading systems count as an energy source because of the thermodynamic profiles, but how does that link to items such as Reaper Cloths? Wild dusknoir and escavalier have to come from somewhere, Go!”

It had been interesting when he’d read over it later, after walking her home – or at least, back to Mystic HQ. Aside from cases such as nidorina and nidoqueen, Instinct typically ignore the evolution status of the pokemon used for breeding to focus mostly on IVs and moves, so browsing Annie’s notes had helped show a whole new side of the story, and they’re a lot easier for a novice to read than Leader Blanche’s, that’s for sure.

There was something similar to this topic in one of his college classes actually - a certain level of energy is required to allow a reaction to occur, catalysts open up different reaction pathways with lower energy requirements, if energy isn’t available from an external source then internal energy will be used instead, and so on. Currently known sources, according to Mystic research, include electromagnetic waves during trading, certain geological features, and – if the ongoing research on eevees is any indication - evolutionary stones as well. So now Annie’s research involves looking at possible wavelengths emitted, triggering the use certain items and further analysis of evolutionary stones. (He winces on Professor Willow’s behalf. Those items aren’t cheap, after all, and Go may no longer a completely-broke student but he won’t be casually dropping ₽10,000 on a stone that will never be anything but powder for a lab experiment.)

Annie always looks so animated when she talks about her research with Mystic One. Guess it helps to have a Team Leader who you really care for.

(Then again Spark, at least, doesn’t need constant reminders to eat or sleep.)

Speaking of which…

“Uh… Leader Blanche and Annie are supposed to be here today. Could you and your boss maybe not blow up the exhibition while we’re all here? Or start a fight? Or steal anything”

Amelie doesn’t even look up from the stall she’s examining. Out of all the locations to spend the morning at, personally Go wouldn’t have picked the shopping village – it’s not even ten in the morning now and it’s already a struggle to get through the crowds. Amelie, however, is both determined and terrifying - so here they are. 

“Mystic One is currently at their headquarters having overslept. Mystic Two is with them.”

Well that’s not at all creepy.

“How do you know that?” He demands.

“Carl told me.”

“Carl, as in-”

That stuck-up dick? is what Go wants to say, but his mouth finishes, “-Valor Two?”

“Yes. We’re acquainted.”

Typical. All said stuck-up dick apparently needs to drop the snobbish attitude, even for someone like Team Rocket, is a terrifying attitude and an above-average bra size. 

(That’s probably unfair, he reflects. There’s one key reason why the two of them will never get along and it’s five-foot-ten, host to a lightning titan and drinks Go’s milk straight from the carton.)

“It’s in everyone’s best interest for there to be no fighting today, don’t you agree? Three of each, please.” Amelie directs the last part at the hovering sales assistant, guarding the stock with the tenacity of a stoutland and the attitude of a houndoom.

Honestly, Go thinks, simultaneously watching the assistant bag all the items and trying to read the labels upside-down at the same time as they’re packed, Carl and Amelie knowing each other well isn’t a bad thing. Especially given the animosity between her boss and Leader Candela - and their combined talents at causing significant property damage.

“Limited Edition Eevee Family… are these socks?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

 “You came all the way to a massive eevee exhibition… to buy yourself socks?”

He looks back at the packaging, the front home to a model in frills sporting sylveon thigh-highs and not much else.

Don’t think about her wearing them, don’t think about her wearing them-

Too late. It’s an amazing image though.

“They’re not for me. I’m here to get them for someone who couldn’t make it.” Amelie says, like she can read minds. Or maybe it was pretty obvious what he was (completely involuntarily!) thinking of.

Hang on, given that there’s one person he knows of who can make Amelie get up at the crack of dawn and wears eevee paraphernalia obsessively…

“So… your boss isn’t here today?”

There’s an unnaturally long pause.

“No,” Amelie finally says. It’s hard to tell with someone as serious as her but for a moment, Go thinks, it looks like she wants to say something more. “No, they’re not.”

“So you did come all this way just for socks?”

She shrugs.

“Lief is also thinking about breeding an eevee-cross meowth at some point, so he’s looking at possible studs as well.”

“Lief?”

“You’ve met him. Green hair, crossbred persians, kicked you in the face last month at the pier?”

Oh yeah, he remembers now. He really needs to try and run into people who are less violent, he thinks.

Amelie takes her receipt and turns to face him. “I’ll see you around, Go.”

“Uh, is it bad if I hope that’s not any time soon?”

He gets a whole smile for that.

[beatricelarson]

January 10th&11th. #3 Ravens Way, Founders Row, Old Edgewood.

tw for brief mentions of injuries, negative thoughts, anxieties, and a brief panic attack

Something is wrong, Beatrice can feel it in her gut. Charlotte should be back by now. Should have been back last night. She worries at her thumbnail, bouncing her knee anxiously. She’d been on edge since the previous afternoon. She had wanted to go for a walk, clear her mind, reassure herself that nothing was amiss within the woods. But it was getting too close to sunset, and the woods weren’t a place for anyone to be on a full moon, even a warlock as in-tune with nature such as herself.

But knowing that didn’t leave her any less on edge, and her worries only grew as afternoon turned into evening turned into night. There was only so much Wyatt could distract her, only so much she could learn from him when she was this antsy. Only so many times they could play Sorry and Trouble. She’d tried all manner of distractions as the night wore on: reading, dancing, playing games, organizing her socks, cleaning the bathroom, singing along loudly and off-key with her playlist set to shuffle.

If she knew what was causing her to be so anxious, she wouldn’t be been so restless. But she didn’t know why she was so on edge. It wasn’t like she was normally like this around the full moon. Eventually Wyatt, unable to put up with her restless energy anymore,  had excused himself to bed, telling Beatrice that everything was fine, Charlie would be home safe, she just needed to go to bed, they would both see her in the morning when they woke up.

Beatrice had lost count of how many times she’d picked up her phone and navigated to her contacts, only to lock her phone and discard it on the blanket next to her. It’s not that she didn’t have anyone she could call, she had some friends. But she didn’t want to bother them. She was just being paranoid. Even Wyatt thought so. Everything was fine, she didn’t need to bother anyone else with her worries.

But as the night grew later, as she grew more restless and worried, she sent off a few texts to Charlie, just wondering when she was going to be home, if she should wait up for her or not. She didn’t like not having everyone she cared about home when she was on edge like this. She liked to know that everyone was safe.

Eventually she told herself that she was being ridiculous and turned in for the night.  It was a restless sleep, full of tossing and turning. She woke up countless times over the course of the night, straining her ears to try and see if the sound of a car was what had awoken her. She resisted the urge to check her phone, knowing that seeing the hour would only make her anxieties worse.

Eventually Beatrice woke up to find that it was morning, the sun having risen. She scrambled to pick up her phone where it was sitting on her nightstand. There were plenty of notifications, but not the ones that she wanted to see. There were no texts from Charlie. She would have texted if she wasn’t going to make it back last night. Beatrice knew that she would have, Charlie knew that she got anxious sometimes, liked to know where her loved ones were, if they weren’t going to make it home. Beatrice always texted when she was going to be late, and Wyatt and Charlie were learning to return the favor.

Determined to do something instead of just sit around, Beatrice hopped up from where she was laying in bed. She threw on her bathrobe, tucking her feet into the fuzzy slippers at the foot of her bed. She grabbed one of the books stacked neatly on the edge of her desk, flipping through it until she found the page that she wanted. Scrying. Scrying would reassure her that everything was fine and she was just being paranoid. That she was getting herself worked up over nothing. That happened to her sometimes, it wouldn’t have been unheard of. Her phone died, that’s all. She reassured herself. But even still, she was going to go through with the magic, just to reassure herself.

Checking her phone one last time, she slipped it into her pocket and got to work. She made quick work going around gathering all of the supplies that she needed, thankful that she lived with other magic users and this everything that she would need was readily available. She knew that she was more than welcome to all of the supplies, but she felt weird going through them without Wyatt or Charlie at her side. It was nice, to be so warmly welcomed by other magic users for once, but she couldn’t get over her insecurities. Old habits die hard, and she had ample reasons for behaving how she did.

“Okay, come one. It’s scrying. You’ve done this before. It’s not hard. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re going to see that she’s fine and then you’re going to take a shower and have breakfast.” Beatrice finished her pep talk by taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes, licked her lips, straightened her spine. Slowly exhaled. Cleared her mind of any stray thoughts, focused on Charlie.

Beatrice opened her eyes, staring into the bowl set out in front of her. It took some time, but she could feel the energy humming underneath her skin, feel the magic take hold. White. A tiled floor. Cabinets. A sink. Blankets. A monitor showing a steady pulse. Charlie, lying prone in a hospital bed, pale and bruised. Beatrice was thrown from her trance, gasping as she came back to herself. She sank to the ground, curling into herself, knees pulled tight into her chest. Her heart was pounding, her breathing becoming shallow.

Her fault, this was all her fault.  She felt tears welling in her eyes and squeezed them shut. This is why you can’t care about people, Beatrice. This is why you don’t have any family, everyone who loves you gets hurt and leaves you. She wanted to shout, to tell the voice that it was wrong, but she couldn’t. It was true. She had a shitty track record with family and here history was, repeating itself. Things had been fine, but then she’d started to see Charlotte as Charlie, as the sister she never had. And look where it got her. In the hospital.

Beatrice wasn’t sure how long she sat there crying, but she eventually stopped. She shakily got to her feet, leaning against the table for support. Seeing the scrying bowl on the table brought the images that she’d seen back to her mind. Yes, Charlie had been in the hospital, but she was still breathing, still alive. She’d didn’t seem to be in any life threatening danger. Wyatt hadn’t woken her up, so it can’t have been too serious. Oh god, Wyatt. Did he know? Did Bridgette? Beatrice didn’t want to be the one to have to break it to them, but she couldn’t not tell Wyatt. Beatrice sniffed and wiped at her drying tears with the sleeves of her robe, bracing herself to wake Wyatt and ruin his morning. Hopefully he would be willing to give her a ride after she told him.

[someonestole15]

Spectral being

Last of November.

Even amidst all these spotlights, I remain in the shadows, the skies above hard to see with all the buildings. No signals now, the area is quiet but we can’t stay here. A missing node from any map will cause suspicion and there is no way they will just ignore this. Radar still empty, not a lot of time to spare.

The vehicle outside was useless, most of the internals had failed after being left out here against the elements, the liquids inside leaking out as I turned the key. Getting out on foot seemed like a good plan, but where to go?

The Crimson would follow, and here, there was no risk of civilian casualties. Amidst my thinking, I noticed my radar getting jammed, but could not pick up on any signals around the area. No radios, nothing. Valkyrie had set herself up on the roof of the outpost, but her radar seemed fine as I asked her about it. A weird disconnect, I kept my weapons ready and eyes wary as I kept watch into the night. The streetlights flashed to black, the entire street plunged to darkness as I prepared. Pistol in hand, I took place next to a window overlooking the street.

Something buzzing behind me, I turned around to see a swarm of Nanites flying at me. Too late to run away, the window before me was too well armored for me get out of and the door was behind the Nanites. Raising my weapon, I emptied the magazine with little hope of getting rid of the swarm; a bullet would only pass through harmlessly as they moved around it, covering my frame as the pistol from my hand fell to the floor. I felt my mind darken as warnings flashed on my HUD.

>Connection denied! >Connection denied!

Vision gone, I could only see my code. I was trapped inside my own mind again, my body having lost connection after the Nanites covered me, likely designed for this exact purpose. My comlink disabled, I could still see Valkyrie attempting to connect to it but her cries for me to respond would remain unanswered. Struggling against the protocol keeping me in, I managed to get a sight of my radar. A whole platoon worth of soldiers was advancing towards the outpost, Valkyries signal weakening as I lost access.

Such a simple trap, yet I had missed it.

My mind kept blacking out as the troops advanced, the Nanites holding my body hostage, I needed a way out of it. Memories of me jumping into this body, could I do it again, perhaps to an enemy?

Another blackout, I woke up staring at a wall, outside of my mind. Hands appearing spectral, they would pass through each other with no resistance.

What…is this?

Strange lettering appearing on my HUD as I struggled to get up. Still in the room from before, my body missing. Looking closer into my module list, I could see the hundreds of nanomachines scouring around my body. The same Nanites that had trapped me, had kept my AI secure within, but the security had not been enough to keep me from taking over.

I am a ghost, a specter, the walls still hold me, but no bullet can stop me. Weaponry missing from my belt and sling, I would have to find a way to get my chassis back.

Valkyrie stepped through the door and sat down next to it, rifle in her hands; she dropped the magazine and drew her pistol. She glanced at me and shook her head.

“You aren’t real, stop haunting me. I TRIED TO SAVE YOU.” She screamed, tears forming in her eyes.

I placed one finger before my mouth and shushed her with a slight smile on my face, stepping forwards and out of the door. If these machines can keep a form, surely they can shape into what I wish of them.

>Sending commands… >Complete. Nanites fully under user control.

Endless possibilities, but several that would prove useful here. My lack of combat capability in this form meant I would have to make use of mobility and provide a distraction while Valkyrie would keep the path behind me clear. Words proving hard to form without an actual mouth, I turned back to see her looking out of the doorway with her rifle braced against it. Lack of words, I recreated a simple reload gesture, magazine out and new one in. She nodded and loaded her rifle, walking forwards towards the exit of the outpost. She moved slowly as she took a knee near the door.

“There are too many out there, there is no way we can fight our way through them.”

I placed my hand on her shoulder; I could suddenly see my comlink open up.

“Can you hear me?” My voice metallic and compressed, her eyes lit up.

“Yes, yes I can. What the hell is even going on?”

“Good, I will distract, you locate cover.”

“What? No, I am not leaving you.”

“Find a flanking position, locate my chassis, and send the information over.”

“Understood.” She cleared the tear from her eye and checked her rifle. A clack from the bolt, she was good to go. She took position next to door and placed her hand on the panel to open it.

Three fingers up, count them down, she opened the door.

Let loose the shadow of a man scorned, allow him to regain his spirit and never look back. Pushing myself out of the slightest slid on the door, the soldiers standing guard opened fire as I moved towards them, cutting out the lights around me, siphoning the electricity from them. Glowing bright amidst the darkness, their aim was focused on me as Valkyrie started her assault, the first two soldiers down with accurate shots to the head, the third dropped with a shot to the knee and one to the neck.

“Ye, I can work with this. Keep moving.” She said, grabbing the magazines from one of the soldiers, dropping the empty ones out of her vest.

Hood formed of Nanites; I ran out to the streets and saw a glimpse of my body being loaded into a dropship around 300 meters away.

Body formed of Nanites; I changed my shape as the soldiers outside spotted me. Lowered stance, as obstacles became a problem; I shifted my way past them, closing in on the dropship. 200 meters… 100 meters, the ship started taking off as I leaped towards it and ran myself across the fuselage, forcing myself in between the slightest gap I could.

Past the armor plating, the insulation and protective parts, I made my way inside. The ship started speeding up as I scattered myself to get around easier, finally forming inside the cargo bay where they had my chassis. Placed on the floor like a corpse, I silently injected myself back inside through the nano holster still attached to my hip, leaving the nanites to fill it up.

>Reforming system… 2%...9%...25%... >Basic functions enabled.

Eyes open, I waited for my other systems to reactivate as the two guards in the bay were looking directly at me, wondering if they should do something. One grabbed onto his radio and started talking.

>55%...67%...79%...100% >System ready, encaging.

Pulling myself up as fast as I could, I grabbed the grip back into my hand and took down the first guard, the weapon disintegrating in my hands as the second one stood up and got his hand around my neck. A sharp jolt of electricity on my waist, I planted my elbow against his stomach and pushed him off, one hand on his vest, I pulled him past me, his head hitting the wall behind me, shattering his visor.

A knife from his vest, struck directly into his forehead past the shattered glass, silence. No weapons left on my sling nor my holster, the nano holster had taken the brunt of the impact against the shocker they had tried using against, and the container within swarming with fully activated nanites.

A smart person would have likely gotten out without making more noise, but I think just leaving would leave them with more than enough to come back after me, there is a whole bunch of soldiers still down there. A door to the cockpit, cracking it open wasn’t too hard with the key codes I pulled from one of the soldiers. Pulling it open, I found the pilot, gaining altitude as he flicked a few switches above him.

“This is Harrier 2, mission complete, returning to base.” He said, tightening his grip around the stick. Blade out from my hand, I stabbed it through the back of his seat, directly into the back of his head. No helmet would be enough from this close, blue liquid starting running back along my blade as the ship tilted back.

Hand on the stick, I pulled the ship out of a dive and removed the now dead pilot from his seat, taking his place. Seatbelt attached, I turned the ship around and looked over the weaponry.

I have grown my wings, watch me soar.

Hello, it’s me again.

You know, the voice who randomly comes up at the bottom of these texts, the writer himself. I would say I am late, but I am thinking of going with this new plan of writing every 3 days instead of every 2, giving some extra breathing room as my spark seems to be slightly dying from forcing myself to keep them coming with such a hectic timing. Who knows, I might even start doing it weekly with writings as long as this one.

Anyways, hope you all had a good Thanksgiving if you celebrated that. Good night Fifteenth_

[buhfoonery]

Fictober19: Day 3; Now? Now you listen?

A Divine Visit

Trigger warning: Mention of Abuse

What an excruciating day at the Office. The Market kept on its course and the firm, to put it bluntly, was in a downward spiral. Keep in mind the business wasn't ever going great per se. Little income here and there with Stagnation being the status quo most of the time. Recently however it's like watching a plane take a nosedive toward certain doom in some reef off the coast. After the Nijimura family's matriarch passed on from a mysterious cause nothing seemed to go right.

Disgruntled the Patriarch of the family fiddled around with the bundle of keys he kept on himself. Carefully looking at each one to check if it had the shape of the Key that Unlocked his Middle class home in the quiet town of Morioh. The house itself looked extraordinarily impressive in Comparison to the humble abodes littered throughout this part of town. Time and time again he chuckled, it was a brilliant idea to buy land in this district then have a Victorian looking villa built upon it. The Nijimuras surely did look like the biggest in town. Safe to say he needed everything he could chuckle at right now.

Really he was sort of lucky the Yoshikages still had a monopoly up there in the hills, that old man might have just saved the Father's self-confidence.

He'd prefer not to think about returning to his two kids, Keicho and Okuyasu. He's not feeling too swell right about now, learning from past situations…he just hoped that neither would try to talk to him. He's gotten sick of relieving his Anger upon those two. They're good kids, he shouldn't…it's just so difficult to hold back if they constantly ask about how he is. Can't they see he isn't in the best of Positions right now having to work for his two kids who do nothing at home?

With a satisfying click the door Unlocked, swinging open by itself to reveal the entrance hall in darkness, a purplish haze crawling across the floor. Carefully the man closed the door behind him looking puzzled at the state of his pride and joy. Those Rascals couldn't have done such a thing could they? Upon further investigation he realized that the smoke rolled down from the staircase, this doesn't make sense at all to him.

"Keicho? Okuyasu? Are you playing around again?" Dropping the Keys into a Handcrafted bowl he decided to investigate. He's a man, the patriarch, if not him who would defend his property. Maddened he stomped up the wooden staircase, the creaks of the old material giving in beneath his heavy feet filling the entire entrance hall with that nasty noise.

Once he reached the upper floor everything stopped, the sound of his steps was drowned out under a heavy sense of Tension. The furrowed eyebrows raised along with his eyelids. The once angered man but a few seconds ago had crumbled down, no matter how much the Patriarch went over the facts in his mind this situation was inexplicable. He didn't own anything that created this sheer sense of dread at home, he would have known. What if Keicho or Okuyasu found it and got hurt? He as a father should be the last person to have anything like this.

Out of the Dark a heartful chuckle emerged, posh in Nature. Slowly the man's eyes slid over to the source, his office. A bright glow was leaking out from under the door, the smoke from earlier seemed to flow out of there like a calm sea. Not menacing in itself yet fear inducing at the thought of what lies within.

"O-oi! W-who do you think you are!" It's what he had to do. On a moment's notice he lowered his stance and broke into a sprint toward his office door. He'll use his shoulder to break the door open, hopefully knocking that smug prick behind it out. Mere inches before the door he closed his eyes, bracing for the impact.

The door was sturdier than he thought, on impact the recoil went throughout his entire body. His burly body dropped to the floor instantly, the shock of actually having done it and charging into furniture he paid oh so much for was torture. When he wakes up he better not have suffered a concussion. He has to work tomorrow there's no way around it.

"My, my. What sheer determination to weed out the intruder. Seems like you're just flowing over with pride, no?"

That taunting voice was not the thing he wanted to hear the moment he woke up, slowly but surely he placed his hands down to push himself up. Looking around to find himself in the Office…yet the Door was closed. There were no signs of a near 6 foot man comming through and throwing his entire weight against it. As opposed to the wall on his left. A clear indentation showing the supports keeping the Walls uptight. Paint having crumbled down onto a pile infront of him. With his nice suit stained he got onto his knees…but couldn't go further.

He's scared straight. There was a man sitting in his office chair with one leg crossed over the other giving off an Aura of calmness, all he was clothed in were yellow trousers with a provocative cut. A crotch window which luckily didn't expose anything lewd as he was decent enough to cover up in a sort of Dark skintight singlet. Shadows shrouding his facial features. The man chose not to let the person who's home he invaded answer, instead he took charge. Getting out of the chair, putting a hand on his hip while gaining the posture similar to a candle, standing tall and unwavering. As he moved to stare down at the Patriarch a slight grin forming on his curved lips revealing a pair of fangs within his mouth.

"I do believe we can come to a deal Mr. Nijimura."

Of course Nijimura wouldn't just take a man barging into his home demanding a deal kindly. He had to stand up for himself! Quickly he began to come to his feet, aiming toward the Man in the shadows.

"Just wait you god damn bas-!"

Before he could think about a way to pummel the intruder he found himself back on his knees, clapping comming from the opposite side of the room.

"You're welcome to try as much as you like. It really won't get your oh so precious family business back on the market."

Nijimura froze. How did he know about his business? It wasn't international yet and from the looks of this fellow he's Probably European. Foreigners almost definetley don't know a lot about Japan! Especially Morioh!

"My Business is doing just fine thank you."

Admitting defeat infront of this stranger is the last thing he's going to even consider as a possibility right about now. The man shook his head and reached into a pocket in the inside of his pants, a hand grasped his face as he pulled out an Envelope. An Envelope Nijimura remembers having thrown away once.

"I can tell this Message did arrive as you seem to be in awe about it. Go on, take it."

With that the Envelope lazily fell to the floor like a stone, the humps on the cover only confirm his theory that it's that weird letter sent to his own address from Egypt. Colorful crystals and gems were inside, undoubtedly going for a lot of money on the open market. Nijimura was too stubborn however to accept it. He viewed it as a joke by some enemy he made along the way.

As Nijimura slowly got up he still couldn't look the man in the face without looking up, his physical frame really just added to the immense presence of this person. Not to forget the psychological toll this is taking on him.

Just infront of the Man Nijimura stopped, balling up his hands. His mental fortitude is diminished, yet he's not easily taken down.

"Fuck. Off. A Nijimura doesn't take bribes." He absolutely had it. He stomped forward and thrusted a finger at him.

There it was again, this weird feeling and now the envelope was balanced on top of his finger.

"I believe that a Strong ruler repays his folk for their efforts. The folk on the lower end are glad. Not just because of the reward. But for the Blessing of being able to operate under a powerful leader."

Now, as a reasonable man Nijimura did what any sane person would do. He freaked out, screaming in frustration

"Get out! Get out of my House now! Take your stupid magic tricks away from me you door to door mediocre Trickster!"

He's completely had it. He's going to be absolutely livid, hopefully lay in bed all day so he won't do any harm to his angels. To everything above just let them not meet him right about now, today or tomorrow because he needs to get his frustration out.

"…Dad's screaming again…it'll be alright Oku." Keicho. Nijimura looked over to the closed door in shock. Now this looney knows he's got kids.

"Hm. You're looking sick to death over poor Okuyasu and Keicho, ironic don't you think?"

"How…how do you know their names. Answer me-!"

"Do you really believe you're in the position to order me around? Oh well... I'm kind enough to humor your request. Let's just say in pursuit of my goals I have to do some digging. I have to know people's strengths, their interests…their weaknesses."

"Weaknesses? Wh- what? You have nothing against me!"

"Need I demonstrate my point. I'm not really in the mood to clean blood from my garments."

"N-no please don't hurt them!"

"Now. Now will you listen?"

"Yes! Just don't get them involved alright?"

He's won. Just by mentioning his offspring he managed to turn a proud man into a little bitch quivering at his feet clasping at his Fashionable suspenders. A satisfied grin formed, laying a hand on the other's shoulder.

"All I need from you is Intel. Intel on any Stand user you encounter. In return I will repay you handsomely with gold, gems…maybe even friendship?"

Still puzzled about the whole thing Nijimura looks up, a stand? The man just talked about it as if it were a common occurrence. Was he talking about night stands.

"Oh right, how clumsy of me. You have no clue what a stand is." At that moment a Golden fist appeared over the man's neck and tore out a piece. A tendril comming out from the piece and straight into Nijimuras forehead and into his cranium. It's like a drill at full speed breaking through a piece of cardboard. It was too quick to perceive any pain on the was in but now that it stuck there the Searing pain took over. Immediately he clutched at his forehead and rolled over screaming in agony. Picking at the bud only to have it tighten it's grip, amplifying the pressure inside of his head.

"Call me Lord Dio. Remember the name. Don't you dare mention this event to anybody. I'll make sure your business booms if you keep up your end of the bargain. That's everything you need to know."

Dio stood there, towering over the utterly broken shell of a man. Seemingly relishing in Nijimuras screams of agony. He couldn't surpress a sincere giggle. How amusing that person was. Thinking he could've done anything against the presence that is DIO.

Sending some cronie to take some revenge on this poor sod for ignoring the message was a brilliant idea. The woman wasn't intended to die but really that detail is as important as the knowledge of a Rat shitting on the road in some Backward village in Australia.

Australia…there were tons of Criminals who'd just be heads over tails to join his cause before he went into the casket. Maybe he should go and explore that place next. Just to see what Britain has done in their time with that Filth.

For now though it's time to retreat to America. He's in the mood to visit a good friend of his.

[bedlamsbard]

I always like to post fic on my birthday, but I don't have anything new ready to go this year so I thought I would post a sequence that was written as part of the flashbacks for On the Edge of the Devil's Backbone. This was meant to directly follow the flashbacks in Backbone 17, but I ended up not using them because I thought they weakened the present-day narrative. I was going to use them for Down in the Devil's Lair, the sequel to Backbone, but I don't think they're going to work there either, and it's a sequence I've been asked about posting a lot. This is Kanan's first Hunt -- the occasion on which he earned his name. About 5K below the break. (Also cross-posted to DW.)

*

From above, the savannah below looked like a rippling purple sea. It was such a striking difference from Mustafar that for a moment all Kanan could do was stare at it, shocked beyond words at the way the wind felt on his bare skin, at the cool, clean air and the waves of purple grasses stretching out into the distance. He had been at the Crucible so long that he had nearly forgotten that places like this existed.

As the gunship slowed to a hover, the other three Inquisitors stepped up beside him to judge their height and current position. Kanan didn’t look at any of them, intimately aware of the Hunter’s presence on his left and Patience on his right – one of her droids clicking quiet protest before she closed the face plates of her helmet and took a flying leap out of the gunship. The wind blew away the sound of its shriek. Kanan didn’t want to be prompted and he didn’t want to be pushed out of the gunship by the Hunter, which he suspected would happen if he hesitated, so he backed up a few steps and then followed Patience out, spreading his arms and legs to slow his initial descent as he fell. The wind streamed past him, raising goosebumps on the bare skin of his shaved head and flowing past the black mask he was wearing, which covered the lower half of his face. The Hunter hadn’t been joking about having him muzzled. Kanan kept his eyes open despite the pressure of the wind, layering the Force over them as protection. He tucked himself into a showy roll as the ground rose up towards him, bracing himself with an outstretched hand and the Force as he hit the ground and came up on his feet, one hand dropping to his lightsaber before he saw that there was no one else around besides Patience. A moment later the Hunter landed a few feet away, then the Hangman, the fourth Inquisitor with them. Kanan glanced up to see the gunship angling away, leaving them alone in the savannah. One of Patience’s droids – presumably the one that had been shrieking – had wrapped itself around her neck and shoulders, clutching desperately at her. The other two were already moving purposefully away, red lights flashing on their domes. “She isn’t here,” the Hangman said. He was some species that Kanan didn’t recognize, a big male with rocky gray skin and a disapproving expression. He had spent the journey here looking at Kanan like he was thinking about throwing him out of the nearest airlock, though the Hunter’s presence had kept him from doing anything of the sort. “Obviously,” Patience said, reaching up to stroke a soothing finger down the back of the droid clutching at her. She pried it loose with some difficulty, holding it between her hands and murmuring to it like a pet. “She hides herself in the Force like a coward.” The Hunter flicked a glance at the Hangman and laid a hand on the back of Kanan’s neck. “Can you find our renegade, my Hound?” The Hangman and Patience both turned their heads at this. “What good is your Jedi supposed to be, Hunter?” the Hangman sneered. “Do you believe he will have any more luck finding the traitor?” The Hunter turned an unimpressed look on him. “The Jedi manipulate the Living Force as we cannot. He will be able to sense the renegade no matter what tricks the Fisher uses.” He stroked a proprietary finger along the line of Kanan’s throat. “Won’t you?” Kanan bit his lip, his breath rasping against the inside of the mask. It was the first time anyone had used the rogue Inquisitor’s nickname. The Hunter loosed his grip enough that Kanan could sink down to his knees in front of him, his vision of Patience and the Hangman suddenly obscured by the tall purple grasses. He shut his eyes, forcing himself to filter out the feel of the Hunter’s hand on his neck, the soft whirring of Patience’s droid, the sound of the wind in the grasses, the distant cry of some bird – It left him with the Hunter’s rough affection, the Hangman’s disapproval, and Patience’s focus on her upset droid. Kanan forced them all aside, letting his senses spread out. There were dozens of Inquisitors on the planet at the moment; Kanan found and identified all of the ones he remembered from the Crucible, even if he hadn’t seen them as anything other than a face in the crowd. This was an inhabited planet, though not a heavily populated one; Kanan was vaguely aware of each population center, most of which were unaware of the predator in their midst. Most of them. Not all of them. He tilted his head a little to one side, his eyes still closed, and licked his lips again. He could feel the tremor in the Force, like a rock thrown into a still pool – the ripples still radiating outwards. Kanan followed them back to their source, the shadow growing the closer he got to it. The backlash knocked him out of his trance. The Hunter caught him as he jerked to his feet, gasping. Kanan was in too much shock to protest or pull away and let the Hunter take his full weight instead, regaining his footing after a moment. He tried to wipe a hand over his mouth, but his gloved fingers brushed against the smooth plasteel of the mask instead and Kanan stopped, his fists clenching and unclenching. He looked up to find both Patience and the Hangman staring at him. “She killed them,” he mumbled, the words lost in the mask. The Hunter was close enough that he might have heard, but the other two Inquisitors were too far away. Kanan dropped his head, now more aware than ever of the Hunter’s grip on his neck, and waited for the Hunter to speak before he said anything else. “Well?” the Hangman said eventually, sounding irritated. “Is your new pet actually any use, Hunter?” The Hunter flicked an irritated glance at him, then bent his lips against Kanan’s ear. “Where is she?” Kanan pointed. He had to raise his voice and enunciate each word for his voice to be heard through the mask over it, and what came out didn’t sound like his voice at all, harsh and alien to his ears. “She killed everyone in the village.” “The child?” Patience asked. Kanan hadn’t known there was a child involved, since his briefing on this op had been limited to “an Inquisitor has stopped responding to comms and all signs suggest that she’s snapped and gone insane.” “Everyone in a thirty kilometer radius is dead except her.” The Hunter gave Kanan another of those fond little shakes, making Kanan clench his teeth. “Good,” he said. “Let’s go kill her.” They weren’t so far from the remains of the village that the distance couldn’t be covered on foot, so the four of them loped easily through the high grasses, reaching the outskirts of the settlement by the time that the huge orange sun began to sink below the horizon. There they stopped, Patience sending her droids ahead to scout out the village. Kanan crouched amidst the grasses, breathing hard as he scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his fingers. For all that everything around the village was tainted by the dark side – he could feel the murders of the residents resonating through the Force – it still felt cleaner than Mustafar did, unpolluted by the vergence there. Even though he couldn’t smell anything clearly through the mask, he could feel it in the Force: clean air, clean land, happy people. It had been a good place to live. Had been. Why was an Inquisitor sent here? Most of what Kanan knew about the duties of the Inquisition had to do with hunting Jedi and the members of other Force traditions, though there seemed to be a fair amount that had to do with internal policing of the Empire. But he couldn’t sense another Force-user here; the planet wasn’t even important enough to have an Imperial complex, just an outpost in the only major city. So why send an Inquisitor? He started to voice the question, then thought better of it, wiping the dirt off his fingers and glancing up to find the three Inquisitors studiously ignoring each other. Kanan sat back on his heels, enjoying the feel of the setting sun on his face and bare head; he had no idea when the next time he would be allowed out of the Crucible would be, and chances were that it wouldn’t be anywhere like this. Not somewhere that felt so…alive, even amidst the death that had occurred in the village. The rogue Inquisitor, the Fisher, had only killed its inhabitants. Kanan could still sense the livestock and pets that lived in the village, some of them hungry after long hours without food, others miserable because they hadn’t yet been milked. A few herd-beasts had gotten loose of their pen and into their owner’s feed store; Kanan could sense their satisfaction in the Force as they glutted themselves on grain. He hadn’t been this open to the Force since the Republic had still stood, not somewhere…normal. The Crucible was the Crucible, but this was a place where people lived, a place where neither the dark side nor the light held sway. The murder that had been done here was only a faint shadow on the surface of the Force: in time, it would pass, and life would recommence as it had been before. A tragedy, yes, but not the kind that would reverberate outwards on the galaxy the way some would. Not like the Force-echo on Mustafar, whatever it really was; not like the slaughter of the Jedi, which Kanan could still taste if he meditated too deeply, even in the depths of the Crucible. He froze as a familiar hand settled on the back of his neck. “Enjoying yourself?” the Hunter said, leaning down so that his breath tickled Kanan’s ear. Kanan bit his lip on a response. He didn’t protest as the Hunter dragged him back up to his feet, Patience and the Hangman only flicking disinterested glances in their direction. “What do you feel, Jedi?” the Hunter asked. Kanan squeezed his eyes shut, his breath rasping against the inside of his mask, and shook his head. He hadn’t been trying to find the Fisher. He had just been…being, forgetting for a few minutes that he was an Inquisitor and an abomination and the Hunter’s property. They both looked over as Patience’s comlink suddenly beeped. She raised her wrist, her shoulders tightening as one of her droids reported in. “What is it?” the Hangman demanded. “They are dead,” Patience said. The face plates of her helmet slid back, revealing her scowl. “The Leviathan, the Songmaker, and the trainees they brought with them. They encountered the Fisher and she destroyed them.” “You did not sense this?” the Hangman said, turning on Kanan. “Hound,” he added, his lip curling. Kanan spat the words, unsure if they would be discernible through the mask. “I wasn’t looking.” “Then what use are you?” said the Hangman. He turned away dismissively, reaching back over his shoulder for his lightsaber. “Let us go and kill that traitor.” “Then you will die like the others,” Patience said. “We gain nothing by waiting,” the Hangman said, and strode off in the direction of the village without another word. Patience shook her head in disbelief. “I’m not hauling his body back to Mustafar,” she said, following him. Kanan expected the Hunter to do the same, but instead the Pau’an remained still, his hand tightening on Kanan’s neck until he suddenly said, “Go fetch.” He released him with a shove that made Kanan stumble forward, catching himself on the ground as he fell. He pushed himself upright, looking back over his shoulder at the Hunter. The Inquisitor just smiled. “Bring me her head, my Hound.” * Kanan found the first body when he was barely five steps inside the village walls. They weren’t much to speak of – a man-height barricade of thickly woven grasses that looked like it wouldn’t have kept out a particularly lazy nerf. But Kanan had felt electricity sparking through them before he had vaulted them; the woven grasses concealed a security system that would have given most intruders a painful surprise. It didn’t do more than sting the palm of his hand. He landed in a roll and came up in a crouch, his hand falling to his lightsaber as he looked around. When nothing moved, he straightened upright, moving through the vegetable garden he had landed in. There was a dead man just outside the gate. Kanan pushed it open as gently as he could, trying not to disturb the body, and squeezed through the narrow opening to crouch down beside the corpse. He was a Feeorin, a young man not much older than Kanan, and there was a single burned-looking cut down his torso that had clearly been made by a lightsaber. Kanan reached out to close his open eyes and then stood again. He found more bodies the further he ventured into the village, passing pens of hungry animals and others that were roaming free – a tooka that came up to his feet as he pushed through an open door to find a mother and two children slaughtered at their dinner table, an anooba lying in front of a nerf-pen that growled at him. If he had been ten years younger, he would have gone to feed the animals, but as it was he merely gripped the hilt of his lightsaber and kept walking. The Fisher was here, he knew. He could feel her, though she had hidden herself within the Living Force, layering her presence amidst that of the confused animals and the dead here, and it made it difficult for Kanan to narrow down her exact location. But she was here. He paused as he saw another pair of bodies in the street ahead of him, these ones not matching the settlers he had seen before. He slowed his pace as he approached them, his hand on his lightsaber, then let it drop as he got close enough to recognize the Imperial symbols on their black armor even in the twilight gloom. The trainee he knew, a Togruta male whom Kanan had fought with in the Crucible before; he had been bisected and his legs lay a little apart from his torso. The other Inquisitor, a Trandoshan, was a stranger, but he knew from what Patience had said that he had to be either the Leviathan or the Songmaker. Their lightsabers lay on the ground beside them, one cut clearly in half but the other intact. Kanan couldn’t see a wound on the Trandoshan, but even though he couldn’t feel a spark of life in him he reached out to feel for a pulse anyway, his fingers resting against scales hours cool. “You,” said a female voice from behind and above him, “I don’t know.” Kanan rose slowly to his feet and turned around, looking up to see a black-clad human-looking woman standing on the roof of the nearest building, her arms crossed over her chest. The white Imperial cogs on her pauldrons caught the moonlight, as did the black metal hilt of the lightsaber on her hip. “You’re the Fisher,” he said, but he had spoken too softly and the mask made the words inaudible. She leapt down from the building and landed in the street in front of him; from here he could see that the lower half of her face was covered by some kind of cloth, leaving only her eyes and a strip of dark skin visible. “Is the Whip just sending trainees after me now? Where’s your master, apprentice?” Kanan stiffened. “My master’s dead,” he said, this time managing to make the words clear enough to be audible despite the mask. “Your masters killed her.” The Fisher hesitated for an instant, her eyes narrowing, before she said, “I can feel the Hunter on you. He’s been looking for a pet for a long time now. I’m sorry to deprive him of one.” “I’m no one’s pet,” Kanan said, pulling his lightsaber off his belt. Her gaze flicked to the hilt before he ignited the blade, bringing it up in front of him in a salute before he shifted to the opening stance of Form Five. “And no one else is dying today.” “Now that,” said the Fisher, igniting both blades of her own lightsaber, “hardly sounds like something an Inquisitor would say.” “I’m full of surprises,” Kanan said, watching her eyes, not her blade. He shifted his position, his steps soft on the packed earth of the street, and saw her gaze flicker as she tracked the movement. “Did they name you yet, apprentice?” she said. “Do you even remember the name you had before?” “I remember,” Kanan said. “Do you?” “Why do you think I went mad?” “I don’t know,” Kanan said. “Why does anyone kill this many innocent beings? They never did anything to harm you.” “They’re better off where they are now. This galaxy isn’t kind to innocent beings.” “This galaxy’s not kind to anyone,” Kanan said. He licked his lips, glad for a fleeting moment that she couldn’t see the nervous gesture. “Did they name you?” she said again. “Did you earn your name?” “What does it matter to you?” Kanan snapped, irritated, and in his moment of distraction she attacked. He swung his lightsaber up to parry the blow, darting under her outswept blade as she disengaged and drew back, her lightsaber behind her. Kanan flipped his hilt around into a reverse grip, his free hand clenching into an empty fist. For a fleeting moment he wished for his blaster, but that wouldn’t do him any good against an Inquisitor. It would be a hell of a surprise, though. The Fisher’s head went slightly to one side in something that might have been surprise, then she flung her free hand up. The Force sent Kanan flying backwards, crashing into the wall of the nearest house. He dropped his lightsaber as he hit the floor in a wild tumble, but he was already reaching for it when the Inquisitor’s foot took him in the jaw and everything went black. * Kanan came to an indeterminate amount of time later, blinking blearily until the world swam into focus. He was still alive. Somehow he hadn’t expected that. When he put a hand down to push himself upright, he found that he wasn’t bound either, his fingers pressing against coarse-grained wood – he was in one of the houses in the settlement. Grimacing, Kanan pulled himself into a sitting position, looking around for his lightsaber and spotting it on a table on the opposite side of the room. The Fisher was perched beside it, her legs folded in front of her as she watched him. There was a lamp on the table beside her, illuminating the room with soft yellow light. Kanan looked at it, at his lightsaber, at her lightsaber sitting on the table next to the light, and said, “What do you –” The words came out clearly, and he was so startled that he clasped a hand to his mouth. The Fisher held up his mask so that he could see it, then put it down beside his lightsaber. She hopped down off the table and paced towards him, reaching up to pull down the scarf wrapped around her face. “Hello, Caleb Dume,” she said. Kanan stared at her. “Tai?” Tai Uzuma crouched down in front of him, resting her hands on her thighs. “I thought you were dead, out there with that jinx and her clones, until I saw your name on the list the Crucible keeps. But they caught you too, Dume. I’m just surprised you survived this long.” “Yeah, you thought I’d be killed in my first battle,” Kanan said automatically. “You were in the Temple. Why aren’t you dead?” He had been so certain that everyone in the Jedi Temple had died, from younglings in the crèche to the Temple Guards that renounced even their own souls to the defense of the Order. Everyone said that every Jedi in the Temple had died that day; Kanan had never heard of a survivor. And he had been the only member of his cohort chosen as a padawan. Tai and the other member of their cohort, Sammo Quid, had both been in the Temple when Darth Vader and his clone troopers had come for them. “We ran,” Tai said. “There are tunnels in the lower levels that lead out into the city, do you remember? Sammo and I were down there exploring them when it started. There was nothing we could have done,” she added, with the air of something rote. “We had to run.” “What happened to him?” “He went back to check on the Temple, walked straight into a clone trap.” Her lip curled. “He was the lucky one.” It was on the tip of Kanan’s tongue to ask how she had ended up in the Inquisition, but she would probably turn the question around on him, and Jedi or not, he didn’t want her to know about Hera. Not if there was any chance that he wouldn’t be walking out of this room alive. In the Temple they taught that there was nothing more dangerous than a fallen Jedi, and this close to her Kanan could taste the dark side in the Force, the way she had lost herself in it. He had seen what was left of the villagers. He couldn’t chance turning her loose on Hera. If Tai noticed his hesitation, she didn’t show it. “I threw out my lightsaber in the nearest trash disposal,” she said. “I couldn’t get off Coruscant, though. Do you have any idea what it was like on Coruscant then?” “The closest I ever got to Coruscant was the airspace, before I got Master Kenobi’s message,” Kanan said. “I never made planetfall.” “Hmm. Lucky. How did you survive, Dume?” “My master,” Kanan said. Tai looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. She straightened back up, pacing in front of him. Kanan watched her, rubbing at his jaw for the first time in what felt like days, even though he knew that it truly hadn’t been that long. She turned back to him so suddenly that he flinched. “So they sent a Jedi to hunt a Jedi,” she said. “You know it’s a test, don’t you?” “Wouldn’t be the first time this week,” Kanan said. “And I’m not a Jedi, not anymore. No more than you are.” The corner of her lip curled. “Tell that to the Force.” She hopped back up onto the table, kicking her heels. “We’ll always be Jedi to it, Caleb Dume, to the Force and our masters. No matter how much we pervert ourselves for their amusement, they’ll never see us as anything but Jedi.” “They told me all the Jedi were dead,” Kanan said. “That all the others before me had died.” “That’s true,” Tai observed. “From a certain point of view. I wouldn’t really call this living.” Kanan blinked slowly. “How many of us are there?” “A few,” Tai said. “Most of the others really are dead.” She tapped the side of her head. “What we are, what they made us, no one was ever meant to be. You can’t be the Force made flesh and an Inquisitor and stay sane. I didn’t.” She grinned at him. “You won’t either.” Kanan glanced down. “Why kill the villagers?” She shrugged. “Because I could. Still asking questions, Dume.” She picked up the mask and wagged it at him. “The Hunter doesn’t like that, does he?” He looked aside, hearing the soft click as she dropped it back onto the table. “Better that I kill them than anyone else,” Tai said. “Because they would die. Them and the child I was sent here for, sooner or later.” “Child?” “Hasn’t your new master taught you anything?” Tai grinned without humor. “In another life that little boy might have been a Jedi. Now he’ll never be anything – not the weapon of the light or the dark. He’s free in the Force now, along with all his people.” “Tai, that was murder.” She kicked her heels again, leaning forward as she said, “Murder’s what we do now, Dume. Murder is what we are. Haven’t they taught you that yet?” Kanan gritted his teeth and looked away. There was a small round window set high near the ceiling, and through it he saw the gleaming red eye of one of Patience’s parrot droids. He looked back at Tai, swallowing, and said, “What are you going to do to me?” “What we are we cannot be,” she said, slipping down off the table and stepping over to him. “The Force won’t allow it.” Kanan pushed slowly to his feet; feeling the ache in his body from everything he had been doing today. He was taller than Tai now, he saw. The last time he had seen her, less than a month before Order 66, he hadn’t been. “You’re going to kill me,” he said. “We’re both dead already, Caleb,” Tai said. “You just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet. Believe me, this will be better.” She held out her hand for her lightsaber, but as it came flying across the room to her Kanan was already moving, throwing himself sideways into a roll and grabbing for the Force. Tai was swept backwards and Kanan grabbed for his own lightsaber, the hilt slapping into his hand and the blade igniting even as Tai launched herself at him. Her blade glanced off his and she flipped over his head, already spinning as she landed to thrust up at him. Kanan parried the blow, moving backwards as she straightened up, forcing her attack, their blades a red blur between them. “Tai, this isn’t right!” he said. “Tai –” “Tai Uzuma is dead, Caleb Dume,” she spat, rearing back as Kanan dodged out of her way and hooked a chair with his foot to knock into her path. She swept it aside with a slash of her blade and moved forward, circling to cut Kanan off from the door. Kanan backed up, keeping his blade in front of him. “What are you trying to do, kid? You think your master will lift a finger to save you?” “He’s not my master,” Kanan said, sweeping aside another stroke of her blade, wary of the place the unignited second blade on her ‘saber could erupt at any moment. “Tai, listen to me, we can –” “What? We can what?” A shift in the Force sent Kanan stumbling backwards, straight into the wall. Tai was there in a second; he barely got his lightsaber up in time to keep her off him, the red blades sparking between them as she pressed forward. “There’s no we, Dume. The Empire saw to that. There’s just you and me. And what you and I are cannot be.” “Tai –” He shoved forward with his greater strength and forced her backwards, slamming a kick into her stomach as soon as he had the space to do so. She turned a little so that it caught her across the ribs, stumbling aside. Kanan followed it up by slamming the hilt of his lightsaber into her wrist, making her drop her own lightsaber. He kicked it aside the moment it hit the floor, though that couldn’t keep it away from her for long. Her gaze flicked to it, then back at him. She rubbed her hand over her wrist, watching him with yellowed eyes. Kanan felt the shift in the Force, looking at the door even before it started to slide open. He wasn’t looking at Tai as she leapt suddenly at him, his lightsaber coming up automatically. It went cleanly through her chest and out her back as Kanan yelled in pure shock. Tai’s mouth had gone wide, but all the amber leached out of her eyes as Kanan deactivated his ‘saber and caught her, lowering her to the floor. “Tai, no, Tai –” She lifted her hand to her wound with what seemed like great effort, her breath rasping in the air. Distantly, Kanan was aware of footsteps, of more presences in the room, but he didn’t look to see who it was. Tai looked at the blood on her fingers, then touched his cheek gently. “Thank you, Caleb,” she breathed. “Thank you –” Her hand fell back against the floor as her body went limp, her eyes staring empty at nothing. Kanan bent his head to her chest, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and laid her down as gently as he could despite the way the Force was screaming in his head. I killed a Jedi. I killed a Jedi – When he lifted his hands from her, they were shaking. I killed a Jedi, I killed Tai, I killed another Jedi – He was barely aware of the steps that crossed the room to him, not until he felt the Hunter’s hand on the back of his neck. When he raised his head, it was to see Barriss standing in the doorway, watching them with something unreadable in her eyes. “Now,” said the Hunter, sounding pleased, “you’ve earned your name, my Hound.”

[soartfullydone]

“Come on, now, love, don’t be naive.” you/Hisoka

Melody Kurta sprang, head over hand back to feet, trying to avoid getting bludgeoned to death by a vacuum cleaner that had a horrifying, gaping mouth for an intake port.

This was not how she thought this day was going to go.

Shizuku Murasaki—number eight of the Phantom Troupe if Hisoka’s word could be believed, which Melody halfway doubted—let out another war cry as she slung the vacuum by its long hose. “Get her, Blinky!”

She named the damn thing Blinky, Melody thought, dodging back. The body of the vacuum went flying past where she’d been standing, colliding with a tree hard enough to split the wood. Melody knew barely anything about Shizuku—there was no record of her anywhere, physical or digital, that detailed her as anything other than a Troupe member—but now she could add freakish strength to the list on top of being a Conjurer.

So far, Greed Island was swiftly becoming less the fantastical virtual reality game experience she was promised and much more like business as usual:

Find a way to help her cousin. Avoid the Spiders. Try not to die.

Well, it looked like she was currently failing orders of business one and two. At least the vacuum’s creepy mouth wouldn’t be able to eat her until she was dead. Melody knew that for a fact, and it did nothing to assuage her.

“What are the Spiders doing here?” Melody asked as Shizuku advanced, dragging the vacuum on its wheels behind her. “Shouldn’t you be busy looking for a new leader?”

“We’ve already got a leader,” Shizuku pointed out in that cool, even way of hers that betrayed no emotion. The woman could be described as soulless if you were feeling less than generous, and right now, Melody certainly was. “If I capture you, we can force the chain user to remove his Nen. Then things can go back to normal that much sooner.”

“Aw, it’s sweet that you think Kurapika would take his Judgment Chain out of Chrollo just for lil’ ol’ me. He’ll let me die first before he sacrifices that,” Melody bluffed, or at least, she hoped she was bluffing. Things between her and her cousin were not… fine, right now.

Shizuku merely blinked, her plum eyes owlish behind her large glasses, and assured Melody matter-of-factly, “Yes, you’re definitely dying either way.”

“Oh, okay, good. So long as that’s clear.”

As Shizuku wound up for another swing of her vacuum, Melody flung herself forward and witnessed a muted sense of surprised flash across Shizuku’s pixie-like features. Netero had once told Melody that one of her greatest assets was being able to get in someone’s space and stay in it, forcing them on the defensive. Of course, being in close range had its own drawbacks.

Particularly if your opponent was faster than you were.

Shizuku blocked every punch Melody threw, no matter where the latter aimed. Melody would find her knuckles grazing off Shizuku’s arm or, worse, the vacuum hose, and wasn’t that humiliating? She didn’t need Gyo to tell her that the Nen accompanying her attacks hadn’t done any damage. Shizuku’s own Nen shield was effortlessly active and intact, neither using too much Nen nor too little as the shield fluctuated to account for the differing strength behind Melody’s attacks.

It was expertly done, a result of both Shizuku’s instinct and experience.

Melody was busy admiring it with a twinge of envy as her own Nen shield was broken and the wind was knocked out of her. The world tilted sharply. She caught a flash of the vacuum’s cartoonish mouth and its razor-sharp teeth as she landed on her hands, dirt scraping her palms. This will not be the last thing I see before I die, she thought wildly as she fought for breath.

In a whip-quick move, Melody balanced herself on her knee and kicked out with her right leg, taking a much-needed lungful of air at the same time. Following the slicing arc of her foot was a bursting line of orange fire.

There was something almost sickly about its color. Something off. It didn’t have the bright flare that fire was supposed to have, appearing more muted, darker. Melody had expected this—it was part of this specific ability—but Shizuku hadn’t.

At the sight, Shizuku’s brows lifted, her dark hair bouncing around her shoulders as she pivoted away, but her vacuum trailed behind. The instant a lick of flame touched it, Shizuku dropped the hose as if it scalded her hands, and the entire thing vanished.

Not vanished as if Shizuku had dismissed it. It wasn’t there and gone in a cloudy poof or a flash of light. Instead, it faded in pieces, as if it was being burned out of the world.

“What did you do?” Shizuku demanded with the first real emotion she’d displayed since running into Melody. Awe and curiosity lifted her tone, but something darker was bolstering the foundations. The promise of retribution if she didn’t get answers; the promise still holding true even if she did.

Melody had no intentions of talking about her abilities with a Spider, but with the fire fading as quickly as it had come and her mid-section feeling like a bus had crashed right into it, she wasn’t in good shape. She could transmute her aura into fire, and that fire could burn through flesh and Nen alike if certain conditions were met. While the former was more permanent and easier to accomplish, the latter was all-too temporary and never a guarantee. Melody couldn’t even perform this specific technique, Burning Touch, without being harmed in some way, such was its nature. Taking the hit from Shizuku had been a sacrifice she’d had to make for her fire to eat through Nen, and right now, she wasn’t sure it was worth it.  

She hadn’t been thinking straight. Too late, she realized she should’ve focused more on attacking the woman instead of her conjuration. Shizuku could do much worse damage to her now that her hands weren’t full, and they both knew it.

Melody staggered to a stand, wincing as she held a hand to her stomach, her entire middle protesting in pain. As Shizuku pressed forward, the golden St. Peter’s cross resting against her black shirt flashed white, the sunlight glinting off its surface. Melody braced for the attack.

It came from behind, two sharp sounds whistling past her on either side. What’s— she thought, her senses rushing to put everything together. Oh, no.

Where the Spider had been standing, a playing card jutted up from where it was embedded in the ground. The other had been caught between Shizuku’s hands, the woman glancing over it with acute disinterest.

Melody remembered, then, what her fourth order of business was supposed to be while on Greed Island.

Find Hisoka.

Instead, he’d found her.

“Yo,” Hisoka’s smooth voice floated to them, saturated with amusement. Melody risked a glance over her shoulder and found him leaning against a tree, saluting them both with a card between two fingers.

Melody decided to play dumb. “Oh, great. What are you doing here?”

“It looked like you both were having such an interesting conversation,” he said, his gaze on her matching the sharpness of his smile. “I was feeling left out.”

Shizuku hummed, tapping her chin with the card. “I’m confused now. Didn’t you agree to help us?”

Melody’s sense of apprehension spiked. She turned the full force of her glare on the magician, willing him to be eviscerated where he stood. You traitorous little bastard. The only reason why the rest of the Troupe wouldn’t attack Hisoka on sight was because of Chrollo, likely because Hisoka claimed to have a way to restore his Nen. She knew this with the same surety as knowing that Ging Freecss was a Class-A asshole.

What made her furious was that it had been Hisoka who had convinced her to come to this damn island to begin with.

Blacklist targets are sure to be there, his text had read. It’s a game for the rich, after all.

Privately, she’d agreed, had already humored finding a way to access the game. Kurapika wanted to locate their clan’s eyes, and she was determined to help him whether he liked it or not. The problem was, Hisoka knew that part of her mind, too, and he’d given her the final push to pursue the option.

What she needed confirmed now was if Hisoka had learned enough about her Nen ability to use her as the solution to his Chrollo problem, because if he had—if her arrival on Greed Island and this ambush was planned—then she was about to find herself in some deep shit.  

Hisoka pushed himself off from the tree and approached their standstill. “I do recall that,” he answered Shizuku, his eyes glittering with the mirth of some joke only he was privy to. His Nen wasn’t hostile, but that could change in an instant. At his side, he still held a card between his long fingers with the same deterring intent as a knife.

Or maybe, in his case, it was more of an invitation.

“Then, help me capture her. You wanted to fight the boss,” Shizuku replied, pointing at Melody with the corner of the card. “She’s your quickest way.”

As soon as Hisoka arrived at Melody’s side, he stopped. Melody had all but stopped paying attention to Shizuku at this point; she wasn’t the biggest threat anymore.

Not when Hisoka was standing this alarmingly, possessively, close.

Everything screamed at her to shift away with how he was considering her, as if she was primed for the sacrifice, a tool he could just reach out and take with no resistance. But Melody would resist, even though every scenario flashing through her head led to the same end result. If he used Bungee Gum against her, she could burn the Nen away—but unless he harmed her in the process, she’d have to hurt herself for the trade. He was already faster and stronger than she was, and the more damage she suffered, the wider the gap between them would grow. She was caught in a lose-lose scenario no matter how she looked at it.

What Melody didn’t know was that Hisoka had watched the skirmish between her and Shizuku unfold long before he’d chosen to interfere. Shizuku’s ability was one he was familiar with and uninterested in; nothing about it intrigued him, despite its rarity.

Though Shizuku was a decent fighter, he’d only had eyes for his latest unripe fruit. Melody Kurta had proven Hisoka’s suspicions (and desires) about her potential true in Yorknew City. Like her cousin Kurapika, her ability was deliciously destructive. Unlike her cousin, she was still discovering its capabilities and limits. But like Hisoka—he’d noted at the time in Yorknew City with no little satisfaction—she was a Transmuter through and through, down to the fact that she had lied to his face about the scope of her ability.

He’d had no idea her Nen could dispel that of others.

Hisoka found himself then with a decision to make. He could either save her and continue grooming her into someone worthy enough to kill, or he could snuff out all that fire and determination now by handing her over to the Spiders, bringing his little tryst with Chrollo that much closer.

Even now, facing both choices head on, he was still mulling over what to do. If he captured her, it would be fun watching her and Kurapika fall apart over it. He wondered which Kurta would break faster if Feitan tortured her. Either way, Hisoka would ensure Kurapika’s hatred—and that of the other fruits by association—and the thought was intoxicating.

On the other hand, if he didn’t listen to Shizuku and chose to do nothing, he didn’t foresee himself losing anything. In fact, now that he thought about it, giving his little hunter up might be the worse decision, especially if something went wrong or Kurapika proved difficult during negotiations. Meanwhile, somewhere on this island, there was a very real Nen exorcist who would likely do as Hisoka asked without fuss.  

What to do?

Hisoka crooked a finger at Shizuku. “Try to summon Blinky again. I want to see something.” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Melody tense.

“What?” Shizuku said. “Oh.” She flicked Hisoka’s card aside and cradled her hands in midair. Blinky appeared between them with a pop, looking its usual if disarming self. “Oh,” the Spider said again, “I thought it was gone.”

While Shizuku inspected the vacuum cleaner from top to bottom, Hisoka wrapped a possessive hand around the nape of Melody’s neck. She went rigid as a board under his touch, causing his smile to widen and encouraging him to lean closer.  

“That’s quite a detail you left out,” he spoke into her ear, indicating her ability. “It’s getting me excited.”

“Nice to know we haven’t skipped the foreplay,” she said dryly, though her body betrayed her anxiousness.

“It’s not true exorcism, then,” he noted. “How long does it last?”

“A few seconds,” she admitted, “long enough for a possible killing blow. I intend to lengthen that window.”

Hisoka assessed her with half-lidded eyes. There was still something she wasn’t telling him. He felt something inside him begin to stir restlessly, an itch that demanded to get scratched until it bled, and then he’d make it bleed some more. Not yet.

To distract himself, the magician decided to focus on what she had told him. “So if you’d taken the chain out of Chrollo…”

“It would come back like that,” Melody affirmed, snapping her fingers, “possibly killing him instantly for violating Kurapika’s order.”

Meaning Hisoka would lose any chance of fighting Chrollo and killing him himself. That was not a desirable outcome, meaning his choice was now clear.

The little Kurta’s smirk said she knew it, too.

It was almost endearing that she believed being left alone with him was the better option.  

“Run along, Shizuku,” Hisoka said, straightening. He began massaging the back of Melody’s neck with a hard pressure, nails pricking her scalp. “You’ve played with my toy enough. Be glad you didn’t break her, or I wouldn’t be letting you walk away like this.”

Shizuku dismissed Blinky. “I can’t do anything about your Bungee Gum, anyway, so I guess it’s fine. I’ve forgotten what I even came out here for.” She sighed and propped her hands on her hips. “Don’t forget. As soon as this business with the boss is over, we’re coming for your head.”

“How could I?” Hisoka said sweetly. “Take care.”  

Melody watched as Shizuku departed through the trees. Only when the woman was out of sight did she feel at ease enough to move.

Hisoka didn’t let her.  

“Come now, love, don’t be naïve,” he purred. His hand was wrapped in her hair now, forcing her head back and steering her until the only thing separating them was Melody’s hands braced against his chest. Their gazes locked. “Shouldn’t I at least get a thank you for saving you?”

“Saving your toy, you mean?” Melody snarled. She tried to push him away, but she might as well have been trying to shove a mountain out of her path. Nen could truly make too much of a difference. “You didn’t save me. Know what else you didn’t do? Answer my fucking texts.”

“Oh, how cute. Does it bother you that much?”

“It does when you’re the one who’s been harassing me with them for months!” God above, he was infuriating! Melody fought to calm down. “Blacklist hunters, my ass. You wanted me to help you track down this Nen purger of yours, didn’t you?”

“It’s the least you could do.”

“Forget it.” She’d come here to help Kurapika, not undo everything he’d risked and accomplished in Yorknew.

“This kind of thing plays out differently in AiAi.”

Melody didn’t know what to make of that offhand comment or what fresh hellscape AiAi was in Hisoka’s world. He didn’t give her much chance to puzzle it out.

Hisoka released her hair only to capture her chin, his thumb sweeping across her lower lip. His voice was husky, the words thick with eagerness. “You need to stop doing that, though. Those defiant eyes… You’re making me want to ruin you.”

The hair on the back of Melody’s neck stood straight up, her heart pounding like an incessant drum throughout her body. Each pulse made her aware of every ache from where Shizuku had punched her, but drowning that out was the hyper-realization of Hisoka. Where her body touched his, all legs, hips, hands, and chest. How much space was left before they reached total impact. The glint of his golden eyes, bright with hunger.

Something shifted in his gaze. It was the only warning she had before Hisoka pulled away and stepped around her, actually giving her space. Melody could only stare after him, stunned. She tried to take stock of time. There’s no way they’d kissed and she’d just blacked out and missed it, right?

Hisoka’s nowhere near that nice. He’d make sure I’d remember.

His back was to her, and she couldn’t gauge his mood or expression. The hand he’d touched her with seemed to rise to his face. His shoulders started to shake. He was laughing.

“Hisoka?”

Melody’s spine straightened as he turned, eyes flashing to hers, a terrible idea taking shape in their depths. His smirk was wide and feline.

“Show me how you dispel Nen,” Hisoka demanded, “and I’ll call us even, for now.”

Before Melody could respond, she was yanked forward by the chin, as if from some invisible hook.

No, she thought with mounting dread.

A quick usage of Gyo was all it took to confirm it. Hisoka had stuck goddamn Bungee Gum to her chin, the end stuck to his own, and he was reeling in his aura, dragging her closer with every second. Her shoes slid against dirt and grass, unable to find purchase.

“You goddamn wretch! I swear I’m going to kill you!”

Hisoka’s eyes danced, smoldering with heat. “Let’s hope it’s with tongue.”

The distance between them was growing rapidly. Her eyes and mind flew, trying to figure out what she could use to hurt herself badly enough to burn through Hisoka’s Nen. Punching herself in the leg wasn’t going to cut it.

Wait—cut! Cut!

Her gaze darted down and she found it. Hisoka had been toying with her with his right hand this entire time, but his left still held that knife-sharp card of his. He’d never discarded it. A good magician always has more tricks up his sleeve.

Melody surged toward it, the taut line of aura between her and Hisoka going slack, just for a moment. It was with an icy sort of shock that Melody found she’d misjudged the distance—or maybe Hisoka had taken advantage of her momentum—because a second later, her body was pressed against every hard inch of his—no space left—and Hisoka’s mouth was on hers, hot and demanding and punishing. His heat suffused into her with each brutal scrape of his teeth and every masterful stroke of his tongue. She’d threatened to kill him, but he was the one who was attempting to devour her whole.

She wasn’t prepared at all for him to moan into her mouth, the sound guttural, needy, and desperate. Like he couldn’t decide if he wanted her to destroy him or be the one to undo her, piece by piece. Probably both.

If every cell in her body hadn’t been awake before this, they certainly were now, and with that sudden feeling came a rush of cruel clarity, swiftly followed by a biting burn against her skin.

Melody wrenched herself out of the kiss, annoyed to find stepping back would be a wasted effort. Not just because Hisoka’s hand held her in place by the neck, but also because one of her own was fisted tightly in his shirt.

Her other hand was stinging with pain by the card impaled on its palm, bright red blood seeping down its papery edges.

Hisoka realized what she’d done a beat after she did. She watched grimly as he put it together. The card. The blood. Her pulling away. No burns on his mouth but his Nen being gone.

“You have to absorb pain.” His voice dragging with awe was chilling. His dark laughter was worse. “Dear little Kurta, you might have been made for me.”

He claimed her mouth again, and Melody didn’t stop him, didn’t want to stop him. She’d been avoiding Hisoka getting too close beyond the expected innuendo and the occasional touch, but now that the line had been crossed, slashed, and burned, she found her resistance to be negligible. Nonexistent. She wanted this; she wanted him. She wanted whatever they could and would do to each other, even though there was that still small voice deep down screaming at her to run.

“Mmm, you’re so good, Melody, love,” Hisoka was praising against her lips, pulling the card out of her hand. With a practiced swipe of his tongue, he licked a trail of her blood off the edge of the card, and that sight should have alarmed or disgusted her. She felt none of those things. (What was wrong with her? Why was nothing ever right with her?) All she felt was hot and reckless, her body coming alive as Hisoka moaned in tortured pleasure. “You’re going to be so good.”

[shadows-echoes]

The Logic of Emotion - Pt. 7

(This beautiful gif doesn’t belong to me!! Gif source here!!)

Pairing: Connor RK800 x fem!reader

Summary: Connor’s just trying to complete his mission but he keeps running into the emotional roadblocks of those around him. You’ve been assigned to the deviancy investigation along with Hank and Connor, but you’re starting to ask questions no one seems interested in listening to. The investigation becomes more difficult for everyone involved as it progresses, and for vastly different reasons.

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: *finger guns*

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 8 // Masterlist

The room is three degrees colder than it should be, the air staler, and the lights dimmer.

The muted overhead lights created long, blurred rectangles on the semi-reflective, spotted beige tiles that covered the floor. The rooms had been sterilized since its last user but traces of them still remained: their handprint lingering on the windowsill, a strand of hair in the corner of the room. Even the nurses and doctors, as rigorously clean as they tried to be, had left their mark. Scuff marks and thin, dark streaks from faux non-marking sneakers dotted the ground along with barely-there footprints.

With his elbows braced upon his knees, Connor cataloged them all as he absently tossed a coin between his fingers. He picked out every possible piece of evidence scattered along the floor and followed them, found what they were from and who they belonged to. He hadn’t found anything of interest over the last three hours and fourteen minutes since he and Hank had been allowed entrance into the hospital room, but his mind needed to work.

He needed to process something or he would go insane sitting here. Doing nothing. Waiting.

You had become his mission in an instant, but now there was nothing he could do for you.

Connor had wanted to track down Martha himself; it would be another mission. It would be objectivity. It was what you’d wanted him to do in the first place. But Hank had been… insistent that he stay.

And so he had.

At first, Hank offered some distraction from the misery of the slowly passing time, but he eventually fell into an uneasy sleep in the chair next to Connor’s. Connor contemplated entering stasis mode himself, just to pass the time, but he was worried about what he would find there. He wasn’t sure if he’d come back.

Connor had a vast arsenal of questions pestering his mind and a list of objectives he needed to meet, but the two people he most desired answers from were both asleep and his targets had been as unreachable as they always had been.

Every so often, his gaze would inevitably be drawn back to where you lay and he would quickly resign himself to staring at the floor once again. It was safer that way.

Twenty-seven minutes and ten seconds after he last looked up, the rhythmic beeping emanating from the machine monitoring your heart rate broke its steady pattern. 

It was accelerating.

Connor was out of his seat and standing beside your bed before your eyes finished adjusting to the light and your unfamiliar surroundings.

Dark crescents sat beneath your eyes and your skin held a sallow tone to it, but you were out of surgery, beginning the healing process, and unrefutably alive.

Your shifting ceases as your disoriented gaze catches on him. “Connor?”

It was barely a croak, nearly inaudible, but there was a probability of zero that he would miss it. He was too highly attuned to you.

A wave of- of something, of multiple somethings, washed over him. He didn’t particularly care to name whatever it was, he had better things to ponder at the moment, but he felt like he’d been restored. Like his key biocomponents had been switched out and upgraded versions had been installed. A shroud of darkened, heavy thoughts still clung to him, but at least now he felt he could properly function again.

The corners of his lips curl upwards fractionally. “Hello, Y/N,” he greets, the words acquiring an unexpected softness he hadn’t consented to.

Connor watches as you attempt to blink away the daze from your eyes, a squinting grimace crossing your features.

“What happened?” you rasp, eyes sluggishly darting from him, to Hank’s sleeping form in the corner of the room, to your own stomach in confusion. “I… I don’t remember coming here.”

He doesn’t know the correct procedure for this, he’d never done it before, there had never been a need for him to visit someone in the hospital. But a question? A question he could handle.

“We were investigating a deviant named Martha. She was hiding out in a different apartment as we searched through hers and you found her,” Connor informs, an unknown weight forming over his chest at the memory. “She stabbed you twice. You passed out from the blood loss shortly after we reached your car, that’s why you don’t remember arriving. It was difficult getting you here alive but even unconscious you were quite stubborn. Upon arrival, you were rushed into a successful surgery six hours ago. The doctors said the prognosis for your injuries was-”

The back of your hand tiredly brushes against his side and what’s left of the sentence dies on his lips.

You’re shaking your head. “I meant- wait… Were you… rambling?”

“No,” he refutes, the barest hint of defensiveness entering his tone and posture as he straightens his shoulders. “I was just answering the question.”

The fog must be lifting from your mind for the look you give him is more observingly shrewd than should be possible given the quantity of drugs being fed into you through the IV in the crook of your elbow.

Connor waits, unsure, as he watches the result of the synapses firing in your brain. Confusion was etched into the hard, tired lines of your face as you stared at him. He could see the question forming, dawning in your mind, and he had a high suspicion he knew exactly what it was you were trying to work out.

“But you… Didn’t I…”

The full question is left unsaid but he can see it in your eyes, he can hear it in his head. He’d assumed it would take you longer- hoped it would take you longer- to reach, but it seemed even in an incapacitated state you could find a way straight to key turning points. To questioning the foundation of things and the reasoning behind them.

Didn’t I order you?

“It was the only way,” he quietly relents. Closely observing the further furrowing of your brows. He wondered whether his explanation was too vague or if you simply didn’t want to accept it. He grew increasingly uncomfortable with the uncertainty as the seconds ticked on.

It wouldn’t take you long to figure out, he may as well help, but the prompt felt thick leaving his mouth. “You ordered me to leave you behind, Y/N.”

The confusion gradually drained away from your face. As your expression went slack and you paled, Connor realized his mistake. Perhaps uncertainty was preferable.

“Are you… Are you saying-”

You couldn’t finish the breathy question; there was too much dread pooling in your stomach.

Dread and guilt and hope and pride and delight and something that warmed your heart a dangerous amount. 

But worry came out of the hailstorm victorious and clear.

Because if Connor was- if he- then Cyberlife would-

Connor says nothing, his gaze holding yours as resignation filled his eyes. 

An unspoken confirmation.

As you stare up at him, agape and speechless, some idle, non-spinning part of your brain registers the tightening of his jaw.

Whatever painkillers you were being given were certainly doing their job, there was only a slight soreness radiating around your stomach. Though, your body did feel like it hadn’t moved in days. Every part of your arm felt heavy as you reached out to grab Connor’s hand in a speechless thanks, in acceptance, in a small act of comfort.

But you stopped short, hand hovering centimeters from reaching his, as another realization hit you like a semi-truck.  

Your hand falls. 

One of the machines beside the bed unhelpfully announces your once again spiking heart rate. It made you more nervous than you already were. “Connor, there’s- there’s something you should know.”

The smallness of your voice isn’t lost on him. The resignation is quick to fall to calculation; a speculating look overtakes his features and you swallow back the lump in your throat.

You were covered in blankets and a stiff blue hospital gown, almost completely covered, but you feel wholly bare before Connor.

Would he hate you after this? For the lies you had been feeding him? For the cases you’d made him fail? For the suspects lost? Or would he begrudgingly accept everything you’d done now that he too was a-

You look to Hank’s form for assistance, unsure whether you're praying for him to awaken of remain asleep, but he remains hunched over the side of his chair. Sleeping.

You force yourself to meet Connor’s now concerned, wary eyes.

If he was- if he was a deviant now, then... Then there were things he needed to know. 

You steeled your resolve. “I… I’ve been working with them. With Markus.”

-

Connor watches from across the hall as a friend of yours climbs onto the foot of your bed, finding a comfortable position there while animatedly speaking about something. The tone was slightly chastising from what he could hear, but he noticed a small smile creeping onto your face regardless.

It had been difficult enough for Hank and Connor to skirt the regulations regarding visiting hours. So, when your wild-eyed friend had practically busted into the room after somehow making it past the now hissing receptionist, they both respectfully excused themselves.

“Have you told her yet?” Hank asks, glancing at you through the room’s open door before turning back to Connor.

“She knows I’m a deviant,” Connor states. The firm words are quiet enough not to be overheard by the few staff members pacing the long hall.

Hank scoffs. “Not that. That you like her.”

Connor turns, his brows furrowing as he looks up at the man beside him in confusion. Hank’s shoulders were pushed against the wall he was leaning into, a cup of cheap, vending machine coffee in hand, exhaustion lining his features. 

“Hank-”

“Look, I don’t know jack shit about the technicalities,” Hank interrupts, cutting Connor off before his dismissal is even voiced. “But I do know that androids don’t deviate over nothing -even if it was a stupid fuckin’ order.”

While the last sentence was grumbled with frustration and lingering disbelief, the rest of the statement was spoken with a knowing tone.

Connor pauses.

Before, back at the apartment building, Connor had been startled out of his processing when he first heard the muffled gunshots being fired on the floor above him. He’d been worried for your safety as he charged out of the room and through the building, and he’d been terrified when he saw you slumped against a wall, bloodied and far too still.

Panic had overridden his systems.

Warning signals flared and roared to life before his eyes, but he’d shoved them all aside. He knew he shouldn’t have, he knew it was wrong, but he did it anyway. Without hesitation.

He didn’t care about his system instabilities. He cared about you.

And the one thing he knew with an alarming amount of clarity was that he couldn’t abide by your command, he needed to ensure your survival.

When the wall of coding appeared, listing his instructions, his mission, Connor had taken one look at you -at your bloodied, fragile human body and your eyes that were so desperately clinging to determination and resolve like a lifeline- and tore it down. He had kicked and punched and pulled until the wall between him and you, between his mission and saving your life, fractured into pieces.

Was that what it meant to like someone? To disregard what should be done for what emotion dictates one should do? What a… human notion.

Though he had had his suspicions about your commitment to solving the investigation long before today, he had severely underestimated the scale of it. Of you. Despite what he had erroneously assumed to be poor detective work and interfering, trivial emotions, however, he had still enjoyed your company. To the extent that he could, at least. 

You were one of the few who had always treated him as an equal, even- especially through his screw-ups. Only now he knew the lengths you went to for his kind, and the rather stupid risks you took considering who you were partnered with. 

In hindsight, it was painfully obvious what you were doing. Your skittish nature, your drained eyes, the oddities in your reports, the number of deviants that had gotten away when he was so close to catching them. It was so obvious, in fact, that it made him wonder...

No matter what he felt about everything else and how much it ate away at him, you seemed to be ground zero. He couldn’t deny the emotions you were able to conjure within him. The relief, the happiness, the affection, the additional guilt, the nervousness, the want to protect… It all swirled around him in a cloud.

But is that what it boiled down to? That he liked you?

Emotions were new, overwhelming, and far more disorganizedly irrational than he’d assumed, but the term didn’t feel particularly accurate.

Not that it mattered.

“I… I might be a deviant, but I am still an android,” Connor reaffirms, a fixed reminder to both himself and Hank. “Even if I completely understood what I feel now, nothing could ever come of it.”

Hank hums, nestling into the wall. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

Again, Connor pauses. The words catch him, a small, precise lure. Something in him begs to rise to the bait, to inquire, to learn more-

But it doesn’t matter.

He had fulfilled Hank’s request by staying as long as he had. Now, Connor has places to be. Or rather, one place in particular.

You’d divulged Jericho’s location; it was time he went there.

-

A/N 2.0: To everyone who was worried: Ily but it had to happen.

But guys. Guys. This is like… the second to last part??? There’ll one more part after this and I’m not entirely sure how to write endings so we’ll see how it goes   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I hope the POV switches came out alright. I rewrote this scene so many times to try and make it work.

Let me know what you thought!! Hmu with that feedback! I’m not even joking when I say it gives me life. It’s what I most look forward to <3 

Tags: @aya-fay @mamamemequeen @layinglonely @robin-rokossovsky @simplysaying @superanonymousreader @aririna1412 @marinettelafayette @purpstraw @tinycyberhacker @lunarlexycon @littlemsrantsalot @bibbo-boggerns @lost-and-found-jc @fuckthatfeeling @avispate @audiblehush @grievance-s @i-resent-this-hellsite @kylobien @fandomfreakgod @colddeadeyes @ctvrty @fineactually @wadeyouwitch @dragonempress123 @queerfandomtrash @mldivers

[cryptidofthekeys]

Schneeplestein x Tiny!Reader

You were wandering around the home of the SepticEgos, humming quietly to yourself as you surveyed the scene.

Anti was scaring Chase, all while getting scolded from Marvin. Robbie was sitting there, watching Jackieboy-Man, occasionally talking to him and having a very confused look on his face.

Angus and Shawn appeared to be arguing over god knows what, its best to stay out of they're way when they are arguing.

Bing (no, not Bingiplier sillies, Bingsepticeye-- cause the boy needs more attention tbh) was standing there, his arms folded behind his back as he watched over the others, he saw you and gave you a small wave.

You smiled, waving back to Bing, he was the main protector of the group, sure him and Anti haven't seen eye-to-eye but, nonetheless, Bing is the one who stops fights when they happen.

Just like now... Shawn threw a punch at Angus... Bing immediately rushed over and grabbed them both by the wrist [ Dear Users, it is not wise to engage in combat, acts of violence such as this is an extreme danger to your health. Cease this useless aggressive behavior and apologize to each other for whatever caused this. ]

Shawn and Angus sighed and nodded at Bing's words, its not wise to argue with a robot, especially not one like Bing.

You rolled your eyes, Shawn and Angus always had a few arguments here and there, nothing TOO serious, they always settled things in the end.

Finally, Schneeplestein... He was actually walking over towards you, you looked at him curiously, wondering what he wanted, he usually never came out of the lab, well besides for food and such. "(Y/N), I need your assistance, come vwith me."

You nodded at his words "Okay then." It beats being up there with all the noise, the lab was very quiet and peaceful, you followed him, sighing in relief when you got into the lab, finally some peace and quiet.

You looked to Schneeple and tilted your head "So, what did you need exactly doc?" You watched him walk over and grab a vile of some sort.

"I vwas vwondering if you vwould... erm, try zhis little... serum out. It's supposed to enhance ze body's immune system."

((Shhhh--yes, boost the body's immune system, best excuse-- no one would fall for that, he could literally just say 'hey, drink this' and it'd probably work better haha-- I didnt have anything else so improvising lol))

You blinked, looking a little concerned by this "Are there any bad side effects? Or anything harmful?" You had a skeptical look on your face now. "I dunno Schneeps... Couldn't you get Chase to do it?"

Schneeplestein sighed "Chase... izn't here at ze moment, I believe he vwent back to see his kids for awhile und ze last time I tried to azk za ozers fo' help ....Anti didn't vwant to. Marvin vwanted to enhance zis serum even more with hiz ''magic''... Jackie vwas scared, Robbie ...not much can be done zhere... Angus und Shawn? ....They'll probably try to punch me und Bing is technically a robot."

He did have a point... ...Well shit... You sighed "Fine... It... doesn't have to be in needle-form does it?" Schneeple shook his head, much to your relief "Vwell it can be done eizher vway, drinking it or needle."

"DRINK DRINK DRINK!" You quickly spoke, not wanting ANY part of the needle, at this, Schneeple nodded and gave you the vile. "Only drink half fo' now. Just to be on ze safe side of zings."

You nodded and looked at the serum, sighing, you braced for the taste of bitter and sour, quickly gulping down half of it, it actually tasted sweet in a way... Strange, afterwards, you gave him the vile back and looked over at him.

Schneeple curiously looked at you "Do you feel any....different?" ...A few moments passed, before suddenly, you fell to your knees and winced "Ugh... Well... t-that's new... S-Schneeple..." You looked up at him, concern written in your face.

Schneeple had a panicked look as he knelt by your side "(Y/N)? Vhat's wrong? Vhat do you feel?" He asked, panic lacing his tone.

You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut, you felt weird, really weird... A few more moments passed, you slowly opened your eyes.... Everything was now so bright, the lights almost hurt to look at and-- wait.... They seem a lot larger than last time... You blinked, then glanced over at Schneeple who wore a look of curiosity and yet worry.

Oh god... Schneeple was huge! He was way taller than previously, your instincts immediately took over and you sprinted for a place to hide, of course to no avail, Schneeple quickly scooped you up before you could get away.

"(Y/N)...! Calm down, its only me!..." He began whispering some soothing words in German, something about his tone made you instantly relax into his hand. You took some shaky breaths, glancing at your now gigantic surroundings...

"S-S-Schneeple... What.... What was in that serum? That.... That WASN'T anything normal! What did you do to me?!" You screamed, yelping however when you felt some shifting, you were then plopped down on the desk.

"Calm down! Liebling... I'm sorry, I didn't know somezing like ZIS vwould happen, I don't even know vhat could have caused zis. I thought I had created za perfect serum, one that could help everyone... So zhey vwouldn't get sick so easily. I guess all I done vwas create somezing zat can turn people teeny tiny."

You recognized Schneeple's tone, his voice, laced with defeat and failure, you sighed and looked at the giant doctor "...Schneeps... Your a great doctor, honestly... Not EVERYTHING can turn out right the first time around, maybe it'll take a bit but you'll perfect that serum eventually. Or maybe make something even better than that, your a great doctor! You've saved Chase and Jack a few times ya know."

Schneeple looked at you, smiling a little at those words, he gently scooped you up again and hugged you carefully "Zhank you liebe... Zat means a lot."

You hugged back, well, as best you could anyways "You know being tiny isn't all.... THAT bad.... It's... interesting to say the least..." you admitted, looking up at Schneeple.

"Really now? Vwell... To be honest, you do look razher... adorable, meine Kleine..." He had a blush on his face now, like he had blurted out something and was embarrassed by it.

You had heard him say liebe/liebling before, you knew what those meant but meine Kleine was a different story "What does that mean?"

Schneeplestein sighed "It means 'my little one'..." He mumbled out, which made you smile and giggle "Aww, that's cute. I like that nickname..." You had a red tint on your face.

Schneeple smiled, he then shook his head and had that serious look on his face "I vwonder if Marvin haz anyvway to turn you back to your normal size..." He stood up, holding you in hand carefully "Do you vwant to come vwith me?"

You bit your lip, realizing how loud it'd be now up there... You quickly shook your head "I'd rather not..." This made Schneeple nod and set you down on the desk "Alvright, I vwill be right back und please, don't stray to far from ze desk here..." He said with a stern tone which you giggled at.

"Yes sir" You then watched as he walked back upstairs, and then you sighed, sitting on the desk casually...

You heard the door slowly creak open from upstairs, you curiously looked over and you instantly froze when you saw Anti approaching... You quickly looked for a place to hide, noticing there was some books, you quickly dove behind them.

"Ńo̸w wh̛ere̕ the f͢uck ̨di҉d̨ t͡ha̸t͏ ͞do̶ct̡or̶ ͜pu̢t ͢i͠t҉..҉.͠.?̷" That glitchy, distorted and layered voice made you shiver, you curiously peeked from behind the books, wondering what he was talking about.

You watched him rummage through the doctor's things, not caring if he broke something or not, you glared at him but its not like you could stop him or anything... Not right now anyways.

You quickly ducked back into place when you saw him approach the desk, you then froze in terror, praying he didn't look behind the books... Unfortunately he did, he pushed the books aside, almost knocking you off along with them.

Your eyes widened and locked with Anti's, he blinked in disbelief then got a little too close for comfort "(̵Y/͜N͏)҉? Wh̶at̨ t͝h̵'̀ fùc̷k͞ ̛ar͜e ̕y͡a d͘o҉i̸n̛g̷ ̸'̷e͞re̢? An' ̨w͢h̴y̕ are ya͟ ͜so.̀...̸ smal̷l͞?͢"

You opened your mouth but all that came out was gibberish, you then began sprinting away, of course you didn't get very far before you were scooped up in the glitchy demon's iron fist.

Anti smirked and brought you closer to his face "̧Hey c̛'mon̵ ńow̧.̵.͟. I̴ts r͘ưde t̀' just͡ ͞u͟p n ̀ru͘n li͏kę t̡h͞a͡t͠.҉ I ͝as̵k͠e͏d̸ ͟ya ͟à s̛i̢mple q̶ùe҉s͝t̴io͢n͝,̨ s ͜h o ̧r͘ t͢ y~"

You struggled in his grasp and stared up into his black eyes "Let... Let me go Anti." You said shakily, now dealing with Anti was already difficult even at normal size but being tiny? This was going to be worser... Worser than ever.

Anti merely sneered, baring his sharp canines "̷Aww~ ́W̢hat͠'s ̢w͘ro̧ng ̸(Y͟/N)͜?̧ ́Y̨'̵ s ̨c̛ a ̛r̸ e̕ ͝d͞ ͜n͞o̴w?̢~"

You grumbled and glared at him "I'm s-serious Anti, this isn't f-funny... Put me down, or else..." You tried to sound threatening which was difficult.

Anti merely laughed and dangled you by your foot, which made you shriek in horror "O̸r͜ ȩls͜e ͢w h͏ ̡a̛ t?~ Whądd͝ya̛ '̵t̢iņk ͜y͡er ̛gu͜nna d͏o?̡~ ͟Huh? ́Ì d҉o̕n't '̴t̴i͘n̷k̸ y͝er̵ ͢in ̵A̶ N͢ Y͢ ͏p͏osit̢ion ͢t'͞ ͠b́e ţellin'͠ ͠me what͟ ̷t̸' ̴do͘ ̨rig̡h҉t ͜no͢w~̶"̸

You struggled against his grip, grumbling lowly "Why do you have to be such an ass?..." This just made Anti smirk and swing you, which of course made you scream.

"D͢o̢n't ͡b͡e͘ s̛o r͝ude~!̕ M̧' ͘ju͝s͝t͞ ͜ha̶v̧i̸n̵' sơm̀e͢ fųn̶~̢"̵ He cackled, his voice being way too loud for you to handle.

"ANTI, GET ZE FUCK AWAY FROM ZHEM!" You winced and covered your ears at Schneeple's yelling, but a sense of relief flooded over you to hear from him.

"Let (Y/N) go Anti... Don't make me get Bing down here... You know how he gets vwhen you mess vwith his users." Schneeplestein hissed lowly.

Anti rolled his eyes and plopped you down on the desk rather harshly, he simply grinned "͝I͡ ͡ẁas̕ ónly̢ ́h̴av̵i͠n͏'̀ so҉mę fu͠n̸~̕ ̡Ye̕r ҉a̛ll͢ ́b̕o̵r͡i͝ng͟ y̵a̶ ̵knơw̶ ̴tha̴t̴?̶"

Schneeple growled and pointed to the door "Get ze fuck out of here." Surprisingly, Anti listened for once and left.

Schneeplestein rushed over and gently scooped you up, sighing "I'm so sorry Schätzchen! I vwish zat door vwould have been locked..." He grumbled, looking over you for any bruises.

You looked at him and sighed "It wouldn't have done any good you know that, but don't worry Schneeps, he didn't ACTUALLY hurt me... He was just being an asshole."

Schneeps sighed "Vwell... Zat's good at least... I'm glad I got here vwhen I did." He glared up towards the door, making a mental note to give Anti a good scolding later ....Actually, he had something better in mind...

(( That'll be revealed in a lil bonus at the end~ ;) ))

You nodded at his words "So, did Marvin have any way to turn me back to normal size?" Part of you wanted to stay small actually... but the other part knew it would be very dangerous with the others around and how loud they were.

"Vwell, ja, he does but, he said he needed some time to study ze spell und get it vright." Schneeple finished, adjusting his glasses.

You nodded, you couldn't hide the smile on your face, you get to be tiny just for a little while longer "Well, at least he HAS a spell ....Let's just hope he doesn't mess it up" You shivered, remember a few spells he messed up before.

Schneeple cringed as well "True..." He didn't have much room to talk, Schneeple knows he's had his fair share of fuck-ups in the past, but he tried not to let that bother him.

You yawned slightly "I'm tired... Schneeps, do you have a bed down here?" You asked curiously, he practically lived in the lab anyways so it wouldn't be surprising if he had a bed down here.

((he doesn't just live in the lab/basement-area like some kinda hermit-person trust me, he's 50% in the lab and 50% outta the lab ...kinda-- just shh the man loves to work))

Schneeple nodded, of course he did.... He then walked over and plopped down on the bed with you in hand, he then placed you on his chest "To be honest meine liebe, I'm a bit tired myself."

You smiled up at him, laying down and then curling up on his chest, your smile grew when you felt his warm hand over you, it felt like a blanket... a really warm and comfy blanket.

You yawned again and closed your eyes, snuggling into Schneeple's chest "Sleep tight Schneeple.... ...Love you big guy."

Schneeple smiled and closed his eyes, for once he seemed to relax which was a rare sight, he usually overworked himself "Sweet dreams meine Kleine..."

You both drifted off into a peaceful dreamland, being tiny did have its perks, even if it was dangerous, you honestly didn't mind at this point if you stayed tiny or not... You could get used to giant doctor cuddles.

Bonus: Schneeple smirked upon seeing Bing and walked up to him "Bing, I need to tell you somezing"

This made the robot blink and turn to stare at Schneeple [ Yes User 3? ] Bing awaited, making weird beeping noises.

Schneeple leaned close to Bing and whispered "Anti was messing vwith (Y/N) earlier und zhey could have gotten hurt because of him... You may vwant to deal vwith him later~"

Bing made a loud beep noise and nodded, a glare suddenly appeared on his face [ Duly Noted dear User, I will see to it that he gets what he deserves ]

Schneeplestien chuckled and patted Bing on the back "Zank you very much Bing" Oh yes, this was perfect... Although, Schneeple wondered if he'd pay for it later, Anti could be vengeful... ....Nah. It was worth it.

((I wanted to add some lab-work n stuff but tbh I feel like Schneeple would be too hesitant and worried for your safety while working, after all he DEFINITELY doesn't want you hurt. And Bingoboy never gets hardly any attention, sure he's not really canon technically but I love Bingsepticeye-- heneedsSomeG/Taswell*COUGH*-- anyways @pizsospa here’s some Schneep G/T for ya IfeelLikeitsnotpacedasgoodasIwantedBUTohwellI’llgetpacingrightonedaylmao

[hiruma-musouka]

Of Magic and Masonry

@fandommaniac2401​ asked me almost two months ago for my thoughts on a HMC/Naruto fusion. I hadn’t replied because after reading her post and remembering past discussions on @blackkatmagic​‘s blog about just such a verse, I had a lot of thoughts of my own and I meant to sit down to write it.

Well, I finally made myself do just that this week, so here’s a late Winter Holiday or early New Year’s present to everyone.

Title: Of Magic and Masonry [AO3 link] Series: Naruto, Howl’s Moving Castle fusion Summary: In which the Royal Witch Mito Uzumaki has a professional request for Wizard Madara and sends four of the king's retainers to convey it.(aka: In which Kagami can be partly faulted for their presence on this expedition, and Torifu begins to understand why the man is never taken aback by any tale of eccentric relatives.)

"I've heard that he eats people's hearts," Torifu said bluntly.

The four blue-clad soldiers stared up at the castle sitting near the northern mountains of Folding Valley.

It should have been almost picturesque really. A gleaming river wound its way through the foothills of the fertile valley. Trees were just beginning to turn gold and red with the advancement of autumn. Upper Folding sprawled across the land downstream, straddling the river at a sufficient distance to obscure the less lovely facets of a human town. Market Chipping was even farther off, barely visible as chimney smoke on the horizon, and the castle overlooked it all from its pride of place, settled high among the hills like a bird of prey alighted delicately on a branch.

Of course that perception required one to overlook the unnatural facts that this castle belonged to no lord, had none of the proper roads which a functioning castle would rightfully require, and, oh yes, had been twenty miles west of its current position this very morning.

It had certainly been something to witness a fortress made of countless tons of stone and masonry raise itself up under the influence of some black-orange hellfire which permeated the mortar and streamed from some unseen chimney. It was only made more unnerving by dint of its manner of relocation - which had involved four semi-translucent legs spontaneously manifesting from that same magic and carting it off. Even as they warily eyed the castle, its legs shifted slightly as if seeking greater comfort where they were folded sedately along its foundations.

The sight explained quite nicely why their horses had hours ago rebelled a mile past Upper Folding's outermost farmland and refused to carry them further.

"In fact," Torifu continued in a casual tone, interrupting the second round of Hiruzen and Danzo's lowkey disagreement over whether it was chicken or fox legs attached to the castle, "I've heard the wizard embeds his name on people's hearts, manipulates them as puppets, and then eats them."

"I'm certain he can't be as bad as rumors portray," Hiruzen said from the front of their group, standing next to Danzo and staring consideringly at their goal. He had thus missed how Torifu (who was standing behind him) had made all his statements while staring unwaveringly at the side of Kagami's head. "You know how gossip among the working class gets out of hand. They don't even get the gender of the Wizard of the Wastes right and he has occasionally been present at His Majesty's court."

"We should go up in a smaller group," Kagami suggested from his seat on the ground, panting heavily from the long climb. "We wouldn't want to- to give the wrong impression and cause offense if Wizard Madara mistakes us as a show of royal force."

"He has a patriotic duty to the country," Danzo said disapprovingly, glaring up at the enchanted stonework. "He is bound to offer his assistance when called upon."

Kagami and Torifu exchanged a look built on long familiarity before Kagami waved a hand towards their companion, smiling winsomely up at the older Akimichi. The other man sighed soundlessly but refocused on Danzo.

"It would be more diplomatic to politely request that he add his skills to the attempts to locate Prince Indra," Torifu advised. "If you'll recall, Witch Uzumaki was quite clear that we were to secure a solid agreement for that assistance before pursuing Lord Nara's alternative order. And nothing good comes out of making a great magician feel like they're being pressured, Danzo."

Especially when we are trying to conscript them into a service contract to the Kingdom.

Not that anyone would bother saying that to Danzo. He and Hiruzen both believed, from the bones outward, in personal service to a higher cause and the value of sacrificing for it. Which wasn't to say that Kagami and Torifu didn't value public service —Kagami had been the first of his family line to join the Royal Military Academy in decades and Torifu's noble house had valued military service for longer than many cities in Ingary had existed— but Danzo in particular found it difficult to accept that other people held to standards divergent from his ideals.

It made him something of an asshole at times.

"That's a good point," Hiruzen affirmed, turning halfway towards them. "Kagami, if you'll wait here along with Torifu, Danzo and I will make our way up for an initial introduction. If things go poorly, hopefully the two of you will have more luck speaking with the wizard or letting His Majesty know there's been a complication."

Kagami gave a wordless salute from the ground while Torifu nodded.

The two men watched their fellows climb up the steep hill. Coincidentally enough, as soon as they'd moved far enough away to be outside easy listening distance, Kagami stopped breathing so heavily.

Torifu sent him an unimpressed look. "Finished recovering are you?"

Kagami rolled his eyes, bracing his arms on his knees before wincing, stretching out his spine, and leaning backwards on his elbows. "Did you want to traipse up the hill with the friend I personally vote most likely to offend a magic user into cursing us? Oh, and Hiruzen too."

"Speaking of which," Torifu said, knocking a foot against Kagami's outstretched ankle, "and I mean this in the most platonic and offensive manner possible: fuck you and your big mouth sincerely, Kagami."

"Torifu! You're breaking my heart here." Kagami frowned with false hurt and genuine annoyance. "Besides, I wasn't the one who lost track of our thick-headed friend and his weirdly specific inadequacy issues in time for it to all bite us in the ass once again. You were supposed to keep Danzo out of my curls and away from Witch Mito long enough for me to get Hiruzen set up for this assignment."

"You don't have any curls; you have a mop," Torifu countered, ignoring Kagami's blithe claim of blasphemy at the insult. "And it would have been helpful to know that in advance if you had actually wanted Danzo distracted rather than shoving him at me with a 'introduce him to women for me before he gets married to his own sword.' I am never forgiving you for that mental image."

Kagami stared at Torifu blankly until the Akimichi raised his eyebrows meaningfully. It was obvious when Kagami finally got the euphemism too because he snorted with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose. "That's your own terrible fault not mine, ugh. Ugh. Oh that's wretched. You have just— You have ruined so many things for me, damn you, Torifu. You owe me good liquor for this."

"I owe you nothing. If you hadn't tried to set up Hiruzen so he would be landed with this duty, we wouldn't be here alongside him."

"Hey," Kagami defended, pointing accusingly up the hill at the distant figures. "That is entirely Danzo's fault for butting in unexpectedly. I had told Witch Mito —rightfully!— that Hiruzen was the most charismatic among us who had any experience with magicians. Danzo somehow persuaded her to send the lot of us instead of just that guy and Homura!"

"Did you happen to wax poetic about Hiruzen while speaking with Lady Uzumaki?" Torifu asked rhetorically.

"Why did you have to phrase it that way? We are supposed to be friends, Torifu. Never say that again and what do you think I did?"

Torifu sighed, shaking his head and sitting down on the grassy hill next to Kagami. He removed his cap and gloves and ran fingers through his hair, welcoming the slight breeze from the east. "Well that explains why Danzo felt the need to involve us in this endeavor. Now why were you so determined that we do otherwise?"

"Look at this," Kagami gestured grandly, arm outflung to indicate Upper Folding and its environs. "Look at this quaint, charming, backwater beauty filled with nature and quietude, countryfolk, cow pies, and curses! And all for the very reasonable price of far too long on bloody horses and a guaranteed blemish on our reputations when we fail the King's request. What's not to love?! Especially in comparison with remaining in the capital where we could enjoy Kingsbury's accommodations while pursuing an investigation into that murder spree of minor practitioners. Why, I'd even rate it above traveling to Porthaven to make the same request of Wizard Jenkins—" There was an oddly cynical emphasis on the name "—and that's also bound to failure. However, I suppose being consoled by days on horseback while listening to our dear friends is much preferred to visiting a few of my hospitable relatives who've settled in that seaside village."

"I take your meaning," Torifu said, slapping his cap against the buttoned front of Kagami's wool uniform, stopping the torrent of drama. "Now without prevarication, explain why you're certain we'll fail."

A slight pause. "Well you can't expect success when the man's ignored all messages from His Majesty's Royal Witch before, now can you?"

Torifu yawned, fanning himself with his blue cap and bracing an arm on his knee as he stared at Kagami.

It took a few minutes before Kagami sighed, glancing over his shoulder towards Hiruzen and Danzo's position before looking skyward. "He might... be a cousin of mine."

Torifu considered that. "You are related to Wizard Madara of Folding Valley's Moving Castle?" he asked, seeking confirmation. Kagami shrugged, rubbing the nape of his neck. "You inherited a remarkably modest portion of the family sense of drama, haven't you?"

"Oh ha. You haven't even met any of my family outside my mother. We definitely don't have the same drama surrounding us that perfumes your noble house's politicking, Heir Akimichi," Kagami countered. "Madara's mostly an outlier. He, his foxfire demon, and his new freaky live-in tenant don't count."

"You do realize that Hiruzen at least will notice your family resemblance immediately once the man answers his door?"

Kagami looked terribly unconcerned as he laid down fully, arms folded behind his head. "That requires Madara to actually be there to answer the door, doesn't it?"

"Kagami," Torifu began slowly, temper beginning to surface. "Did we just journey across half the country because you wouldn't tell us the man is traveling elsewhere?"

"Exactly how was I supposed to let you know that without Witch Mito - and the royal family through her - learning that my extended family produced a wizard of Madara's caliber?" Kagami asked skeptically, unperturbed and unrepentant.

"There's no shame in that. Magicians are of great status and use to—" Torifu cut himself off, realization dawning as Kagami stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "Ah."

" 'Ah', indeed!" Kagami exclaimed. "You are perfectly correct that magicians are of great use to the crown! They have such respect and influence that King Hagoromo had to entice the Uzumaki to immigrate to Ingary in order to find a magician willing to take his endorsement as Royal Sorcerer after he finally locked up his lunatic mother!"

Kagami shuddered, blanching a bit at the thought of what his grandmother —frail or not— would do to him if it got out that the Uchiha still had magicians sprouting up here and there. It may have been forty years since the crazy Queen Mother had last had a magician disappeared to do... whatever horrors it was she inflicted on them before their murder, but she was only in seclusion, not dead. The backstreets of the capital still had persistent rumors started by frightened maids that Kaguya looked as young as the day her sons had dethroned her.

If Kagami ruined all of his grandmother and her siblings' past work at getting the magic users of their family to bend to using pseudonyms, he'd be up a creek without a paddle. At best, he'd never hear the end of it. At worst, he'd end up ostracized or turned into some sort of farm animal and left to an undignified life in a pasture or pen owned by one of his mess of cousins.

Kagami had too much to live for to end up as poultry or pork.

"Anyway!" Kagami said, waving a hand and hurrying to move on from the unpleasant topic. "What's done is done. We're all here, Madara is safely off visiting a newborn niece or nephew, we've got some fresh air and sunshine, you'll please never mention this to anyone, and all will be well."

"Fine, but you're getting your lazy self up," Torifu informed him, rising to his own feet. "I'm not clear on why you faked exhaustion to avoid knocking on an empty door but..." Torifu shaded his eyes with a hand and squinted up at the castle. "I thought you said the wizard was absent? They just entered through the front door."

"He is," Kagami confirmed, brushing off his pants. "The creepy cursed tenant must have stayed behind as I expected he would. And for your information, that's why I didn't want to knock rather than laziness - the hill isn't that steep, thank you."

"Cursed?"

"That's what Hikaku says and my cousin's apprenticed under Madara." Kagami shoved his hat back on, folding his arms. "Apparently it's some nasty piece of work - woven through every last wrinkle and hair on the elderly man's body. Lord knows how the fellow actually hiked his way up to the castle. Anyway, Hikaku's got a deft touch and Madara's, well—" Kagami motioned to the enormous, bespelled castle "—he's Madara, but neither of them can pry the curse off the guy or even off his voice box. The first attempt sent him into heart palpitations serious enough that Hikaku's pretty sure it's a death curse twisted from its purpose. Although it's beyond me how a mutated death curse could throw Hashirama Senju back out the door from twenty feet away."

Torifu frowned at that. The Wizard of the Wastes certainly wasn't a lightweight by any means. Torifu had only met him the once when the man had started paying court to Lady Uzumaki, but no one who's trying and beginning to succeed in the ludicrous endeavor of recovering The Wastes into fertile, arable land could be minor hedge wizard. "Could it be related to the Kingsbury murders?"

Kagami started to shake his head but abruptly stopped, licking his lips. "We're halfway across the country," he said slowly, "and the man's supposed to have red eyes which would throw out eye color as a second commonality among the victims. But that's all I know of the case from Homura and Koharu unless they mentioned more details to you...?"

"Just that they all had a touch of magic," Torifu said as he started to climb. "This tenant has magic, right?"

"He has something creepy at least," Kagami muttered behind him. "Hikaku doesn't start drinking so he can falsely complain about reanimated spines crawling up the stairs and dead mice walking themselves into trash bins while teacups instantaneously transport to the creepy man's elbow. I have no idea how he and Madara live wiTH—"

Kagami choked on his words, grabbing the back of Torifu's jacket and shaking him violently. Torifu spun, caught sight of Kagami's aghast expression directed towards their right, and then looked for himself.

The... thing that was squirming up the footpath might have been a scarecrow once upon a moon. Might. Whatever it qualified as now was some bastardized melding of that and something living. Unnatural shifting lumps were half hidden under its tattered, royal blue suit jacket. Vines swung and curled from the cuffs of its ripped shirtsleeves. Thick mobile roots emerged from its jacket in place of a scarecrow's wooden shaft, carrying it swiftly towards them in an undulating movement.

And in horrifying pride of place, replacing the hay-stuffed sack that should have served as its head, a twisted pink bud grew, sharp leaves engulfing its base and wrinkled petals contorted into a distorted face.

The stink of cursed magic wafted off the warped sapling-scarecrow like a chamber pot as it ran at them. They both lunged off the path and out of its way, nearly falling down the hill in their urgency.

"What is that?!" Torifu demanded.

"Why are you asking me?! I don't have magic!" Kagami yelped.

"Your cousin—"

"Distant cousin, distant! And Madara sets things on fire and triggers dramatics with gunk and shadows when he gets aggravated! He doesn't do whatever thoh shit..." Kagami breathed, eyes widening.

Madara's Moving Castle, regardless of the absence of its master, had apparently taken note of the approaching malicious construct. It didn't look too happy about it either, which was not a thought Torifu had ever imagined having about a building before. Numerous windows on the upper levels of the towers had lit up blindingly with the same unnerving magic that was propelling it up onto its crouched legs once more. However, the windows were backlit by a bleeding luminous red glow rather than a black-orange shade, and two openings were left dark in the centers of the glass clusters like gigantic pupils on artificial eyes.

The castle door opened onto sheer nothingness.

"DOWN!"

They both dropped flat to the ground as a fiery tongue-like protrusion shot out of the entrance. It wrapped around the scarecrow and then hurtled back inside with its captive, recoiling at lightning speed. The door slammed, reopened onto the vague image of an entryway, illuminated by the same black-orange light, and with a malicious inhuman cackle that echoed among the hills, three balls of magic were catapulted across the sky.

Two of the fireballs were screaming as they flew towards the horizon. They sounded familiar.

The castle door stayed open for a brief moment as Torifu and Kagami stared wordlessly. There came the faint sound of an old man yelling disapprovingly from inside —something about hospitality and respect— but it was barely audible over the laughter that seemingly emanated from the stonework itself.

Eventually the door snapped shut, but the snickers continued, an undertone of foxlike yips and crackling wood in its voice as the castle casually meandered away.

With caution, they stood up.

"I don't suppose," Torifu started calmly, still staring at the departing castle, "that the sibling your wizard cousin is visiting happens to be nearby?"

"Izuna, uh, Izuna lives nearby in Market Chipping to the south," Kagami replied numbly, staring after the fading smoke trails, two of which had to have been Hiruzen and Danzo. "But it's one of the others having the babe. I don't remember which but they're not here. Do you... do you think it would be faster to return to the capital and ask Witch Mito to borrow those Seven-League Boots prototypes she's working on?"

"Can we track them through the sky?" Torifu asked, pulling his uniform straight.

Kagami eyed the castle's previous location, traced the path the different magic spheres had taken through the sky, and squinted into the distance. "... probably," he conceded.

"Then we'd be better off getting started. You start walking; I'll fetch the horses."

 (Review and reblog if you enjoyed yourself - AO3 link)