#go go prickle rangers

[silverequation]

More hedgehogs and chao

[justmightyshadows]

A Druid Walks Into a Bar with a Ranger

Was requested that I write more Jaheira smut. So here we go!

This is a post bar fight setting with some great hot ya know after. Tiny tiny bit of angst. lots of NSFW. Rated: Explicit

Getting into a bar fight was not on the top of your list after leaving Baldur’s Gate. Yet, after you beat everyone at darts, blindfolded, and Jaheira beat them at drinking games you found yourselves fighting off a couple of aggressive challengers - mad that you had ‘stolen’ their money. Your first thought had been to ignore them but once one had put his hands on you, you knew it was too late. Jaheira reacted before you could, slamming them into tables and throwing them viciously into walls until no one dared come near you both.

You walked away victorious but battered, your nose broken and your hands scraped and bloodied. Jaheira sported a small cut above her eye that was bleeding profusely. She grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close as she guided you through the crowd, up the stairs and down a small hallway to the room she had rented for the night.

Inside, the barely lit candles flickered against the wooden walls, your eyes took a second to adjust to the light. She had picked a pretty bare room but it had a bed, a chair and a random but very luxurious leather couch against the far wall.

“Sit down, little bird.” She said - her voice was thick and soaked into your ears gently. You obeyed, as usual, sat in the hard wooden chair and let her fret over your injuries, her hands cleaned the grime and blood from your wounds, taking extra care to heal the scrapes against your knuckles as well. Her body was so close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off it.

“I’ll have to set your nose. It will hurt. A lot.” She looked into your eyes as she gave the stern warning. In response you reached out to her, holding onto the back of her thighs for support and tilted your head up toward her, defiant. She grinned down at you, pressing her fingers hard against either side of the ridge until a satisfying click of bone meant she had pushed it back into place. The heat radiated like a small fire across your face, pulling tears from your ducts and down your face.

“You did well, I knew you would.” She kissed both of your cheeks softly praising you with whispers into your ear.

You didn’t even cry out. How strong you are. My little bird doesn’t even flinch at a broken nose.

She made her way toward the couch across from you, shed her shirt and poured herself a small glass of whiskey before sitting, her legs spread wide and her head leaned against the back of the seat.

If this was meant to turn you on, it did.

She smirked as she caught you gazing over her body, your eyes followed the trail of her neck down to the tip of her breasts.

You rose without thinking coming to rest on your knees between her legs, the night’s events replayed in your head as she undid your braid, shaking your hair loose until it cascaded down your back in dark sheets and massaged the base of your scalp.

“You were such a hot head tonight, aren’t you supposed to have outgrown that at your age?” You teased her as your hands found a large purple bruise on her side. She chuckled, looking down at you as you healed the wounds on her body with the little bit of magic you could muster.

“Yeah - some habits have only gotten worse in my old age. I’m more protective than ever, more jealous. Maybe I am just afraid to lose you.” She threw the drink back, placing the empty cup on the table harshly. Her hand found yours and she smiled into your wrist, her warm breath prickling against your skin before she planted a kiss. It set your skin on edge, small goosebumps rising along your body in response.

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaheira.” You said softly to her - she had been speaking about losing you so much since you were kidnapped month’s ago.

“I know, I won’t allow it.” Her eyes flashed dangerous shades of yellow and gold as she spoke. You could feel your head being guided forward to the space between her breasts, your lips meeting her skin eagerly, a hard suck earning you the softest of moans from her. She pulled you to her nipple wordlessly letting you decide how to please her. Your mouth opening around it as your tongue glided over the erect flesh, lapping it forward into a suck as you looked up into her eyes, the thin slits staring back at you showed you were on the right track. She moved you to the other one as her hands undid the buttons and ties keeping your clothing on until it hung limply from your body.

“Take this off, I want to see you bare.” She pushed you back a bit with the palm of her hand, your hands tore the clothing off easily, the thin fabric falling gracefully behind you. She unbuttoned her pants in front of your face sliding out of them slowly, revealing the silvery bush and wet center, teasing you with her closeness before going back to her place on the couch.

“You know where I want you.” She growled - the gravel catching in her voice as her hand led you between her legs by the back of your head.

“And you know where I want to be.” You whisper into her thighs. Your knees pressed into the ground as your mouth brushed against her. You inhaled - taking in the smell of her body, her want poured off of her - then you dove in. Your tongue spread her lips apart savoring the taste, you moaned into her and she dug into your shoulder affectionately with her nails. Her hand led you to every spot she wanted you, her personal toy to guide and control, until she shuddered, climaxing against your mouth, pressing you forward into her desire as she finished. She shed you to the side as she stood up and rummaged through her bag looking for what she wanted to play with next.

Her new strap was the same color as the last, fleshy, serious, just bigger - the harness end was made to fill her as well, just like she liked it. She slid it on, her mouth twitching slightly with pleasure as it entered her and headed over to you. Pulling you up by the long strands of hair she slapped your ass and ordered you to ride her.

“Put your youth to use.” She joked - you are far older than she will ever be but you smile along anyway lifting yourself to straddle her hips. You avoided her gaze as you lowered yourself onto her new favorite toy, your lips parted as you let out the faintest moan, the tense sensation of it rising into you was blissful.

Your body tensed so you glanced down to see that 3 inches or so still won’t fit.

Of course she picked this one, you thought.

Her face cracked into a grin as she smacked your ass again, your hips responded with experienced rolls, your hands shook out your hair as you showed off your body to her. Her hands met your waist and as always she tried to guide you, push you, into the positions that she thinks are best. Your body tried to sink onto it even further but your mind held you back. She watched you intently her hands pushing you down and her hips lifting upward to ease the rest inside to no avail.

“Ah - Jaheira. I’m full.” The strap wastoo big, it pressed against you roughly as she bucked her hips upward, again. She caressed your face, touching the bit of sweat that had started to bead there.

“You can take more. Here. I’ll show you.” Before you can protest she’s flipped you to be on your back, the cold leather couch a shock against your skin as she begins to work inside of you. Her hands pushed back against your legs, opening you up to her smooth, hard strokes. You feel yourself filling with it, more and more, far more than you thought you could take until her skin touched yours. Her hips flush against your thighs and ass. You both shudder at the contact - the warm feel of each other’s flesh is delightful.

“Look at you, so full. Ready for me.” She said with her head raised into the air, her hips thrust in and out with punctuated slaps of your bodies together. Your eyes fall back into your head, your mouth open and vocal to the pleasure you are feeling underneath her. You take your hands and find her nipple, the other grabbed hard against her flexed ass and she purred at you - the softest voice she has ever had falls down at your perked up ears.

“I need you to say my name.” You gasp for air and push it out of your almost useless mouth.

You know what she wants, where she this is goin.

“I’m here, Jaheira. I’m not going anywhere.” Her eyes close defensively as she slammed into you again and again - trying to make your bodies one.

You could tell she was close, but she held back, waited, brought her lips to your chest to send you over the edge, your legs shake involuntarily, flailing in the air and she moaned loud into you, closer to a roar than anything else. You both remain intertwined in ecstasy for what feels like far longer than you’d ever climaxed before. When she slid out your hole felt empty, it begged for more with gentle pulsing muscles, you pulled her onto you and kissed her deeply.

“That was..”

You don’t have the words to explain and she doesn’t try to give them to you.

Her own were unable to describe the sensation either.

It filled the space around you as you both try to catch your breath.

The sun peeked out over the horizon as she settled into you.

“We can stay here another night. I’m not finished with you yet.” She rest her hand on your entrance as she drifted off to sleep, muttering small praises in her dreams - assuring herself that you were right there with her.

[hismercytomyjustice]

Happy Wednesday-eve, my fellow Mind Flayers to-be!

Time for a(n unedited orz) sneak peek of Chapter Fifteen of my Bloodweave fic Ancient Books and Horror Stories!

We have finally escaped The Horrors™! °˖��◝(⁰▿⁰)���✧˖°

Hope you enjoy!

---

By the time they made it to the entry hall, Leon, Victoria, and Gale’s staff were there waiting for them. Victoria was grinning from ear to ear and eagerly waved upon seeing him. Leon smiled fondly after her as she hurried up to him.

“I want to hug you, but you’re really messy,” she offered by way of greeting.

“Yes, well, needs must and all that.”

Her eyes darted back in the direction they’d come from. “...he’s really gone?

“He is. Permanently. Are you and your father going to the Underdark too?”

Her face lit up briefly before falling. “No… Even though I really want to. Did you know that’s where Catti-Brie’s husband used to live?”

That startled a laugh from Astarion. “I do know that actually.”

Gale gave him a sidelong look. “You would know that, wouldn’t you?” Astarion froze. “...hmm?”

Gale’s brows rose in mock surprise. “Oh? You have no idea who Catti-Brie’s husband is?”

Oh, no.

“Ah… Well…”

“His name is Drizzt!” Victoria piped up. “I can never remember his last name though…”

Wyll arched a brow. “Drizzt Do'Urden? The Drow ranger?”

“Yes! That’s him!” Victoria insisted. Oh, hells. He didn’t even have Tav’s cannibalism or Karlach’s short attention span to save him now. He felt sweat prickling at the nape of his neck. Gale watched him knowingly, an evil smile coming to his face.

[darkaviarymc]

The Evergreens Enfold the Shrine, A recursive fic of The Incandescence of a Dying Light by @quaranmine

(I meant to hit Edit Chapter but accidentally hit Publish Chapter, so you get it a day earlier than planned)

Chapter 3

"Do you think he really saw him?"  

The silence was deafening in the O.R waiting room at West Park Hospital in Cody.  Gem had to break it somehow, and Etho's ghost sighting had been prickling Gem's mind ever since Etho had asked that chilling question.  

"Did'e lay there like this?  Knowin' he's never gettin' up?  Jus' waitin' t'die?"

Beef let out a long sigh and dragged the palms of his hands down his bearded face.  "I can't say for certain if ghosts exist or not, but what Etho saw, or what Etho thinks he saw?  Nah.  I mean come on Gem, he hit his head.  He was in pain and full of adrenalin, probably on the edge of shock, with a story fresh in his head about a mustached ghost who appears to injured hikers."

"When you see hoof prints, think horses, not zebras," Gem said.  It was something she'd heard medical students she crossed paths with in some of her classes say.  It was meant to remind them that the simplest, most likely explanation for something was usually the correct one and to not try to jump to a drastic diagnosis. Even so, Gem still had her doubts.  "I still can't stop thinking about it.  The crazy part is, even the ranger thought someone else was with us.  Doesn't that make you wonder?"

"Bdubs seems like an okay dude, but did you listen to how he talked?  The guy's nuts.  Too many days in the woods psyching him out." 

Gem hummed thoughtfully.  "You might be right.  I mean, you're probably right.  Maybe the woods are psyching me out, too."

Before they could say anything else on the matter, a doctor walked into the waiting room.

"Are you two Ethos contacts?"

"Yes," they said in unison.

"How is he?" Gem asked.

"The surgery on his ancle went well," the doctor began, "and I expect it to make a full recovery.  Of course, he'll need to follow up with an orthopedic surgeon back home and set up a physical therapy schedule.  He also has several small rib fractures, mostly on the left side.  They're more like minor cracks than major breaks.  Now, about those head injuries.  The bad news is, in addition to a pretty severe concussion, he also suffered two separate skull fractures.  The good news is that they're both linear, so they shouldn't require surgery."

"All in all," the doctor concluded, "He has a lot of minor fractures, and our biggest concern is the concussion.  I expect he's going to be just fine given time to recover." 

The two friends both felt a physical weight lift from their chest.  Gem relaxed in her seat for the first time in hours, and Beef smiled and rubbed Gem's back.

"How soon can he go home?" Beef asked.

"He'll need to stay here for a few nights for observation.  A concussion like his needs to be closely monitored for 73 hours to ensure there's no preasure or fluid buildup.  He also won't be getting on any plains for least a week.  We want to see him back here on the 21st for an evaluation, and at that point the neurologist will decide weather or not he's clear to fly.  She'll meet with you all later once Etho's awake and aware to discuss that part of his case in more detail."

Beef chewed his lip; the tension was back.  He nodded slowly.  "Thank you."

"Of course," the doctor said with a smile.  "You know, it could have been much worse.  He's lucky he has quick-thinking friends like you two."

As the doctor walked away, Beef groaned loudly and covered his face with his hands.  "A week.  At least a week."

Beef's voice was muffled by his hands, but Gem still heard him clearly.  "You go," Gem said without hesitation.  "I can take care of Etho."

Beef quickly shook his head.  "Not a chance."

"Beef, this is your bachelors degree on the line!  If you don't get to your classes-"

"If I don't get to my classes, I get my degree a semester later.  I won't lie and say I'm not bummed about it, but Etho's more important.  He'd do the same for either of us."

Gem leaned across the armrest of the chair and hugged Beef.  Though the position was awkward due to the barrier, it was one of the warmest, most comforting hugs Gem had ever had.  "You're a good friend, Beef," Gem said into Beef's shoulder.

"So are you.  Just look at you, ready and willing to deal with Etho on your own.  Heaven knows that man's a handful on a good day."

Gem laughed and sat back up properly in her chair.  "Oh, I know!"

"Do you?  Because you weren't around when he signed half the campus up for 'Shady E's Super Spy Mystery game' mailing list with letters written in 'invisible ink.'  He made almost five hundred dollars selling subscriptions to blank paper before the dean caught on and almost expelled him."

"Yeah, but I was around when he tried to extort the entire campus with exuberantly priced white-label 'royal maple syrup.'" 

The two laughed at their reminiscing for a while before Beef stood up and stretched.  "Oh, how are your knees, by the way?"

"What about my knees?"

"You hit the ground pretty hard when we got down to Etho back at Owl Head."

"Oh."  Gem rubbed her knees and shrugged.  "I mean, they're a little sore and probably bruised, but I'm okay."

"That's good.  I'm gonna go call Pause.  He's probably wearing a hole in the carpet pacing the living room waiting for an update."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want them to lose their security deposit on top of having to pay American medical bills."

Beef cringed.  "Ooh, yeah, even with the travelers insurance, that's gonna be... rough."

"He might have to start another mailing list."

Beef laughed again.  He waived goodbye to Gem before leaving the room to make his phone call.

Now alone with her thoughts, Gem looked out the window next to her.  She took in the sights of the busy tourist city before letting her eyes wander out further to the mountains of Shoshone National Forest that loomed over the horizon.  It was surreal to think that just a few hours ago, she'd been out there having the time of her life with her two best friends.  Now she was here, in a hospital waiting room, waiting for one of those friends to wake up from surgery.  

How quickly life can turn your world upside down. 

And how quickly reality can hit you like a splash of ice-cold water from a snow creek. 

He could have died. 

Etho almost died. 

He probably would have, had that ranger not been on the trail when he had been.

"There wasn't a fourth person with you, was there?" 

And then there was the ghost sighting.  Had it been real?  Had Etho truly seen Mumbo back there at the base of the hill off of Owl Head Trail?  Had the ghost of Pinnacles Trail lead Bdubs to them?  Or was it all a concussion induced hallucination and an extremely lucky coincidence like Beef suggested.

Gem might never know.  But, she supposed as she sighed and watched her breath fog up the window, perhaps not knowing wasn't so bad.  She knew Etho was going to be okay.  She knew she had the best friends anyone could ever pray for.  She knew that in two weeks time, she'd be back home in her apartment in St. Johns  with a bottle of wine and her beloved internet chat rooms.  The message boards were going to love this story, Gem thought.  She used her finger to draw a heart in the condensation on the window, then wiped it clean with her sleeve.  And her sleeve was, in fact, clean, because she and Beef had thankfully had a chance to change cloths while Etho was in surgery so they didn't have to sit there caked in dried blood.  They'd even let Gem into an unoccupied patient room and allowed her shower.

But when she looked down at her hands, just for a brief second, she could still see Etho's blood coating every finger.  How long, she pondered, would it take for those mental images to go away?  They probably never would.  Sure, they would fade with time and become less brain-rattling, but Gem understood that this sort of trauma had a way of clinging to a person like smoke.

 "And what he found at the base of the mountain was the thing the rangers had been searching for for over a year: the dead body of the fallen hiker."

How long would it take for those mental images to go away for that fire lookout who found a dead hiker's year-old corpse while running for his life?

They probably never would.

Gem closed her eyes and tried to picture the view the view of the St. Johns skyline she had from her apartment.  She tried to picture her neighbor's kitten, or perhaps the bouncing logo on the screen saver of her home computer.  Anything but Etho laying unconscious on the forest floor.

"You know, it could have been much worse.  He's lucky."

That doctor probably knew better than Gem how much worse it could have been.  Being the closest hospital to Shoshone, Gem was sure this place had seen countless injuries, big and small, brought in from that forest, as well as it's fair share of tragic deaths.

But Etho's wouldn't be one of those, Gem reminded herself.  She opened her eyes and returned to the present.

Life would go on.  Soon Beef would come back and tell her about the ear-full he'd gotten from Pause, than later Etho would be awake and they could finally see him.  

Life would go on for the three friends, just as it went on for the forest after the fire that had driven that lookout up the hill, just as it did for that lookout, who Gem imagined was out there somewhere, living to the fullest.

Gem was lucky.  She was blessed.  She was safe.  She looked down at her hands.

No blood.

She gazed out the window once more at the mountains in the distance.  Although she knew his ghost probably wasn't real, she couldn't fight what compelled her to smile and whisper towards the forest.

"Thanks, Mumbo." 

[neverhangd]

@accultant , anne, and other cat-coded things 🐈‍⬛

How long’s it gonna be until someone trusts Anne well enough to explain all of the weird bullshit going on in this little adventuring party? It’s getting harder and harder to extend these weirdos the benefit of the doubt when so much evidence points so sharply in suspicious directs. Prickling sarcasm had crept back in when Anne first arrived at the scene, but—absent an explanation still—she won’t deny she feels bad for this poor little fucker in particular. They so frequently seem so overwhelmed.

At the invitation, Anne cocks her head and closes one eye, using her hand to gauge the relative height of Iago in the tree. She’d employed similarly rudimentary measures aboard the Ranger and they hadn’t steered her wrong once!

“As ye will, then. Make it another few feet down to that branch and jump—I’ll catch ye. ‘Less ye’d rather sit there in yer gown and wait ‘til I can fetch a rope.” Anne had taken to wearing trousers (and only trousers) to bed, striking a delicate balance between fending off the heat here on land (nights being cold at sea) and being able to function if called upon.

[augment-techs]

Boom!Comics, what if Drakkon had actually died at the end of Shattered Grid??

....Oh, fuck this is gonna be hard. Lemme think.

It's so hard to pull on this thread and follow a single end loosed from it. There's so much to be addressed.

Kiya would have to be given consideration, because the writers fucked up with her in ways that are still ringing out in Darkest Hour. She needed treatment for her PTSD and Survivor's Guilt and killing the Blue Emissary. So I think Trini would have to actually tap into her Yellow potential WITHOUT Drakkon's goading.

The Eltarian Invasion would have to go through a speed run, because the Omega Rangers wouldn't make the incredibly stupid decision to nick Drakkon out of the Command Center and go galivanting about the universe based on his advice--more to the point, would the Red Emissary even be caught unawares by the Orange Empyreal if he wasn't checking in on Drakkon? No.

The bullshit with Zedd and the Dome Arc would have to still be gone through, because otherwise Matt wouldn't be revealed, and Zordon would still have to be proven wrong, so the stress would be even greater because the Omegas DIDN'T defy Zordon in this timeline and leave a crack in his ego, so the punishment for Billy would have been much differently handled...I think.

Tommy and Matt's dick measuring contest would have to be forestalled by Zack and Jason being unwilling to not look at things from Matt's POV, and I should like for Billy to have actually talked out his reasoning not just with the Stone Canyon Trio--though I still want that--but with Kimberly and Tommy. They've all been stressed out and under pressure and he needs someone who isn't new or hasn't been gone that could actually understand him. And possibly call him out sooner for keeping secrets from them when THEY aren't Zordon.

I would like to think that Zartus would make an effort to turn up the charm and use a charisma check to try and get Zordon on his side, but that means he would have to come to Earth while both the Red and Yellow Emissaries are alive and thus he only has control of the one Empyreal so he has to take care about sending it to particular planets to decimate.

Which means sending the Sentry Force Four to pick up Zelya and interrupt her dating Skull so she blew him off BEFORE she and Bulk had a heart to heart. BEFORE the Dome was placed over Angel Grove.

I think, for lack of any other way into understanding, the Rangers would contact the Coinless Universe in the hopes that THEY would have some idea what the Empyreal they met actually was.

Which, fun times for all, because YES, actually, TWO people from there do.

Ranger Slayer, Coinless Bulk, Sentry Skull end up popping over to the Prime universe to lend a hand. Skull happily dragging Finster-5 along with them because they're the two.

And Coinless Jason comes along, too, much to the distress of everyone there that was under the impression that he was dead. Kim thought he could use a breath of fresh air away from their world's rebuilding process and Jason was grateful for the chance to see a version of Billy and Angel Grove still standing.

And--except for Kim--they're all wearing Colors the others weren't expecting. White for Jason, Purple for Bulk, and--much to the discomfort of the Omega Rangers--Orange for Skull.

The Orange especially leaving the Omegas with a prickling sensation in the back of their minds. A bad aftertaste from the Empyreal.

"Fun fact about those fucking things? You can get rid of them, but you have to find the corpse of the Emissary they were born from and find a Ranger with a correlating Color to punch the corpse," is Skull's first observation after Finster's creepy explanation about the origin of the Empyreals ("Yeah, there are three of them. Opposite of their Primary Color counterpart. But at least you can count on them to cut to the chase instead of pulling some metaphorical lyricist bullshit,") with a tiredness that nobody expected from one of the Coinless after they gained their world back.

It's a lot of talking, a lot of convoluted back and forth about why the Empyreal would seem like it was on a mission for job instead of fulfilling their divine purpose.

I would like to think that the Omegas would propose team-up with the Coinless until things got straightened out. With the elder Kim, Bulk, and Jason remaining on Earth in case the Empyreal came knocking and Finster-5 and Skull coming with them on the Spectrum II in the hopes of cutting off more planets being killed.

Skull takes them up on their offer without looking to the other Coinless for consideration, given that it feels like everything is an a time limit and it's not like he could have left the Command Center to visit the Juice Bar or anything, despite Bulk's protests.

"I look too much like myself. It's fine."

Finster-5 does not really have much of a choice in the matter since he's on eternal probation and will do whatever the Ranger Slayer tells him to do.

However, Slayer Kim would probably have to go back and forth between one Earth and another to keep the peace, and Coinless Zack and Trini would pop in here and there as the ball really got rolling with the Eltarians showing up, acting as if they want to forge a proper alliance with Earth JUST before Zedd raises his metaphorical finger and everything is way more out in the open than it ever had any right to be.

I want Zedd to get a proper body. I want Zordon to get his own proper body. I want Rita to get yanked back to the Eath and given to Grace Sterling because the Omegas and Skull found her Dumpster spinning through space and weren't going to take the chance that Finster-5 would do something stupid. I think Jason would trust her a little more and would want to curry favor with someone other than Zordon...just in case.

I am also going to use this as an excuse to cut out the middle man so she can't be called on by Vile and therefore bring about Dark Specter using Zordon's old body. Zordon's getting that back so he and Zedd can beat the crap out of Zartus and be MORTAL so they both have certain expectations of accountability when they fuck up.

I also want to use this as an excuse for Zordon still getting called out, but I want it to be by someone that he wasn't expecting: like Purple Ranger Bulk finding the "spare change" in the Command Center and taking Zordon to task about trust and destiny and how even if the Rangers are now soldiers, they're also children and it's really not right to mess about without consulting them.

"Because 'you said so' is not an answer."

There is still a situation where the Empyreal goes to wipe out the Hartunians, but because Skull is not Drakkon and they'd have no reason to leave him behind on the ship, age and experience would be on their side. All but 40 members of the population wouldn't have to die--Skull would merely tear out the the king's heart so the queen could either aid them or perish. Which works splendidly as during the evacuation process it becomes very clear that the Empyreal is under someone else's command, and that someone can be traced to the Celestial Shard that formed with the Blue Emissary's death from their heart.

Hartunia is still destroyed and rendered 'Anew' but the people are alive and under new rule and relocated to an unoccupied world where they can start again without weapons or the scavenging practices and under the rule of Evor Till who winds up swearing fealty to the Rangers, with the promise to aid them if ever they call.

It leaves the Omegas rather shaken that they didn't fail and actually have somewhere to turn to make things better, but it also leaves them feeling sick that there's a version of Skull--living on their ship until things pan out--that would kill someone without hesitation or even appearing remorseful.

I really, really want the home team Bulk and Skull to get at least a little consideration from either Zordon or Grace Sterling in this scenario.

....That's all I've got. I'm sorry. This was hard.

@skyland2703

[aurora-boreas-borealis]

those yellow eyes?

Okay this one is going to take some explaining!

This is based off an episode from Power Rangers Dino Charge where Chase is mind controlled by the monster of the week (his eyes glow yellow, hence the title). And, I’ve found out there is a canon divergent au where the episode left off on a worse note with Chase hurting the other rangers

So, I’m writing a oneshot based off that with the whumptober prompt ‘nightmare’

Honestly what I have is very much barebones in terms of writing, but I’ll try to add a lil snippet :]

—————

There are a pair of eyes watching him.

[Chase] can feel them on his back. They glow through the darkness, a warm yellow that feels cloying.

Staring at his back, staring into his soul.

‘Your fault,’ a voice murmurs, ‘It’s your fault,’ it’s says, louder and clearer.

Twisting and turning in his sheets with beads of sweat prickling at his forehead, he forces his eyes shut and forces his back to the shadow —and those bright eyes— with shaky breathes— begging for the staring to stop, praying for it to leave.

[undercover-roomba]

(yes i wrote something about fir and antler because they are my skrunkle guys. yeah. also i thought that ferric looked similar to ant. so here we go.)

  The soft light dappled the forest floor as the fox trotted across the leaves. He ignored the screech of some various animal being snuffed out behind him. Maybe by that weird mouse. It seemed to like him. But whatever, he had a mission. He needed to find his friend, the bat. He never really knew where the little creature went, but they were closer than he’d like to admit. He had found the thing in the hellscape plain, trembling and developing heat stroke. It was even snappy back then.

  He sniffed. The notable stench of blood hit his nose, and he recoiled. But there was a.. familiar scent coming with it. He noticed the smell of those Fire corporals. He actually respected them. A canine and a flying creature? He could relate. They had actually had some meaningful conversations as well. Ranger respected him, at least a little. He heard wingbeats, and looked up. The damned bat was hanging off the tree, still righting themself.

  “Little fucker. Get down here, Fir.” The fox growled.

  The bat chuckled, then flitted down and perched on his shoulder. “Cheer up, Antler.”

  “You know I can smell the corpse. Who is it?” He went for the calm approach- his go-to. But he made sure to add a hint of aggression to get the point across.

  Fir hesitated, then went with “I can’t tell you directly. You’ll have to see.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Antler murmured, but entered the small area in which the scent of rot was strongest. 

  Instantly, he had to take a step back. The stench was coming from a horrifyingly familiar fox, clearly dead, organs ripped out and all. 

  “...Ferric?”

  The single word was uttered before Ant could stop himself. His calm demeanor melted away in the fearful panic beating through his heart and the little prickles through his skin. His cousin. His only relative in Defiance. 

  “Holy shit.” Fir let out a shocked little chuckle. “I didn’t.. I thought she would be less brutally killed than that, but it is the murder cult.”

  “Fir, this is no time for jokes. Please.” Antler’s voice was strained.

  “..I know. I’m really so sorry. I heard that she tried to desert.” Fir sounded resigned.

  “..Fir, you’re a good friend. I hope you know that. My closest friend, in fact. But I need to be left alone.” Antler gently shut Ferric’s eerie, blank eyes with a claw.

  “Okay.” And with the simple word, Fir flew away. It hesitated in the air, turning back to look at the fox, then flew off.

  Silence was in the clearing for a while. Antler was burying the body for what seemed like hours. As he finished the mound, he sat down. “...Ferric. I hope you find a soft place to rest.” Of course he didn’t say much. But he had to let her go somehow. He shook his head softly. “Goodbye.” And with that, he turned away.

  “What did you overhear?” He asked his companion softly.

  Fir chuckled. “From the combination of it? There’s a shit ton- well, not a shit ton, but a notable amount of cats living in that hellscape desert or whatever you call it. They somehow have been surviving, for a while.”

  “So what you’ve heard Rainhaze mumbling is true?” Antler responded, tilting his head.

  “Oh, yeah.” It chuckled, “Being small has its perks. I don’t think he even knew I was listening.”

  “Everyone should have a little bat buddy.” Ant commented, letting out a small laugh. “To spy on animals who shouldn’t be spied on. Like Deepdark. Or the corporals.”

  “Aw, fuck you. You keep me around for much more than that.” Fir flitted away, then returned soon after.

 “Did Ferric try to desert?” Antler asked suddenly, suddenly a bit more subdued. 

 “Yeah. I asked Hacksaw. She confirmed it, she did attempt deserting. She also said that she didn’t care that the body had been buried. Hacksaw’s honestly really fucking cool.” Fir responded.

  “Absolutely. But anyways. It’s always a bad decision to desert. She could have told me. I could have tried to help her.” He whispered, sitting down.

  Fir made sure to flit around the area, checking for any prying ears, then whispered back: “You could have gotten caught, though. They wouldn’t kill you, yeah, but the punishments…” It huffed, making a frustrated face.

  “It’s fine. I didn’t, so we don’t have to think of the consequences.” Antler said, tapping his tail twice on the ground. “Should we check the hellscape? Maybe we could catch a glimpse of those weird cats.”

  Fir’s eyes widened and it grinned maniacally. “Oh fuck yeah.”

  It was always so hot in the hellscape plain. Heatstroke was a looming threat, as the sun scorched the earth so indefinitely you never know when rain will quench the thirst of the water-starved ground. He had only seen it rain once, passing through. He had the satisfaction of killing a skinny, starved little weasel thing back then. Now, of course, Fir flitted along with him.

  “Fuckin’ hate this place. Too hot, bad memories.” Fir sniffed, fanning itself with its wings. It went from flying to perched on Antler’s head, right between their ears. It was a move it had seen Ranger and Hacksaw do, and proceeded to copy. Of course, the coyote and the hawk didn’t mind Fir being a copycat. Everyone loved the little fucking murder air mammal. Including Antler, though he would never admit it. 

  “Have you ever encountered a little blue cat out here?” Antler asked, tilting their head, trotting across the plain. A day’s travel to the edge of the territory where, depending on where you were standing, you could see the blue cat, from Antler’s experience of checking the area.

  “Once, actually! A little blue cat, like Rainhaze talked about, with some white scruff on the chest, and yellow eyes. I mean, that’s what I remember. He was stalking a field mouse or something, and you bet I swooped down and took that little guy. I flew up pretty high, and dropped the mouse, right in front of him. I swear he went ‘A bat?!’ and then I yelled ‘You're welcome! Guaranteed free food, bitch!’ and flew off.”

  “Yeah, I kind of assumed you’d do something like that.” Ant chuckled softly. “When I’m out here, I observe the territory and watch any predator animal I see. Sometimes I see the little blue cat, and he almost always notices me…” He trailed off, thinking.

  “Observant pointy animal.” Fir chuckled, then paused. “Wait. Movement over there. I hear something.”

  Antler squinted, creeping forward. In the distance, near a small patch of some sort of plant. There was some movement, but the shape was blurry from the heat striking off the ground.

  Fir huffed. “Can’t see the bitch from here. I’m goin’ over.” It shot off Antler’s head, leaving the fox making a cross face, a slight pull to the lip. He saw the little shape flit over the bigger shape, then return.

  “Sure as hell is a little blue cat. He’ll probably come over. Good thing our settlement is close to the hellscape plain.” It chuckled, flitting around and then landing between Ant’s shoulders.

  “We are really inspecting this cat. He is like a little bug to us. You know those isopods? The little rolly guys?” He sniffed, watching the little shape, which was moving towards them warily.

  “Of course I do. You literally collect them. I wake up and there are like thirty of them scattered around sometimes. I’ve seen them fully cover the floor of the den sometimes. The den is big. How are you even fucking achieving that.” The bat chuckled. It flapped its wings a couple of times, as if shaking the bugs off of it.

  “I get help. Some of the deeplings and a surprising number of general Defiance members like them and want to collect them with me.” Ant said, watching the shape come close enough to properly see the color. “That’s definitely a blue cat. You weren’t lying.”

  “..You’re saying that Defiance members, animals part of the murder cult, like little bugs enough to fill a den with them?” Fir murmured.

  But, of course, the cat was creeping over to them, so Antler ignored the bat, and gently moved towards the cat. He stared in fear at the fox, who stared back, emotionless. Fir flew around the cat, watching, silent for once. The two had a moment, then Antler broke the tense atmosphere by taking a little isopod from his neck fur and gently setting it down in front of the cat. 

  “HOW MANY OF THOSE DO YOU FUCKING HAVE?!” Fir yelled from their overhead flying. 

  Antler didn’t respond, and instead beckoned Fir down, and turned away, leaving the cat prodding confusedly at the little bug.

-

afterthoughts: literally love that i made defiance like little bugs. my 1 crowning achievement.

also plot twist fir eats them sometimes out of spite

the doc is called "live antler reaction" and i think that's funny. thanks me from 4 days ago or wheneever i wrote it

(@barrenclan for the @)

[griefology]

it's been going on for a few minutes now. the ranger knows the telltale feel of a gaze on her, the way it prickles the hair at her nape. aradin's fucked off somewhere, as has barth, and the archer was left to hold fort at this shitty little tavern.

the patron watching keeps her busy, though. she isn't even trying to hide the judgement in her gaze as some smarmy human hits on a tiefling woman far out of his league. what she does pretend, however, is that she isn't thinking her friends are doing the same.

❝ out with it, then. i know you're not looking at me for my beauty. ❞ remira sighs, annoyed and put out about having a conversation. her gaze slides to where the other woman sits at her right.

❝ i wasn't staring at you. ❞ @streetsrot counters, but remira's not buying it. she levels her with a gaze that says as much. ❝ look, argue with a wall. are you gonna tell me why you were watchin' me, or not ? if not, i recommend you take your little gaze elsewhere. stool's open at the other end of the tavern. ❞

[adventures-on-foster-island]

Saturday night, Ellisa began receiving emergency alerts from Hoenn. Some kind of storm, bad enough for a region-wide evacuation. "Maybe Kyogre and Groudon are at it again," she thought, "but better safe than sorry."

She gathered the staff for a meeting. "Act like there's a hurricane coming. Get all visitors and Pokémon indoors, do not let anyone leave. Pull down the plastic tarps over the garden beds and secure them well, and close the rainwater collection system so it doesn't flood. Be prepared to take in refugees. Lets also make sure our supply inventory is up to date in case we need to ration." As the island staff hurried off to help prepare for the worst, Lynn rubbed Ellisa’s shoulders from behind, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

"I need to go help on the mainland," he whispered.

"You are needed here, and I will not have you risk the lives of your Pokémon like that. They've barely had time to recover from your last trip," she reached up to squeeze his hands on her shoulders, "Walk with me to the docks?"

Lynn begrudgingly followed his partner outside, only to be hit in the face with a putrid odor. The sky was dark and stormy, wind howling in their ears, and they could see waves crashing high against the cliffs as they made their way to the docks where a few passenger ships remained. Captains and crew huddled together on the pier, looking out at the treacherous sea. One Captian stepped forward as the couple approached, "There's reports of a terrorist attack, some kind of acid rain across Hoenn and Johto. Ships are not to attempt to dock at either region."

"Well come on inside then, get warm and dry. Hopefully it will miss us," Ellisa ushered them up towards the main building, but returned to the docks again. Through the binoculars on the pier, she could see several other passenger ships approaching at great speed. "See, my love? I need you here. We've never had this many visitors at once," she turned her vision side to side and could see a wall of rain falling several miles out, and flocks of wild flying and water type Pokémon rushing to get out of it. "Oh Arceus, those poor things. Help me set up shelters please?"

Lynn grumbled but obliged, knowing he wasn't going to make it out past the storm. Their shared time at the ranger academy had given them the necessary skills to make quick work of dozens of shelters, both over the water and on land. As they finished, they began to hear shouting on the radio.

"Ellisa, you need to get back inside. The news reports... you have to see it for yourself but get back inside before you get caught in the storm, over."

The caretaker looked to her ranger and rolled her eyes, believing her staff to be over reacting. "I'm coming, I'm coming, calm down don't scare our visitors, over." The acrid scent on the wind was strong as Lynn and Ellisa made their way back towards the main building. When they arrived, the tension prickled their skin. A quiet murmur ran through the crowded building, eyes fixed on the television screens on the walls of the welcome center.

"Team Snagem leader Victoria holds the world hostage, demanding a battle circuit and Pokémon Centers for Orre. Sources say that she has captured and Shadowfied a Ho-Oh, and it's Shadow Sky is causing the acid rain. Please stay indoors, it is too late to evacuate at this time. Contact with the rain will cause severe chemical burns, and may cause death."

Things were far worse than Ellisa had imagined.

Late that night, once most guests and staff had gone to sleep, Ellisa poured over the books for the day. "At least my grant money is doing some good," she mumbled to herself. The staff had brought her a comprehensive list of every resource and every guest taking refuge on the island. Unbelievably, despite being near max capacity, they had an abundance of water and food to go around. Satisfied with her paperwork, but too anxious to sleep, Ellisa turned on the weather report to watch the storm move. "Lynn, Lynn wake up, you have to see this." She gently shook her partner's leg. After a few moments of fighting to go back to sleep, Lynn gumpily rubbed his eyes.

"What in Groudon's name could possibly be urgent enough.." he stopped talking when he saw the screen. The angry storm moved completely around Foster Island, avoiding it entirely, as if some kind of barametric force were pushing it away. "Well... at least everyone here is safe then. Please come to bed." He crawled back under the covers, pulling his partners arm as he urged her to rest.

When daylight broke, Ellisa checked the news before coming down to the main floor. Everything was awful. The death count was high, and images of the damage were unfathomable. They had to do something.

It only took a few hours to sort out who was willing and able to help and what skills they could use to their advantage. They found some seamstresses to stitch specialized raincoats for flying types, fighting types and stronger humans carried supplies, water types and their trainers filled and sealed containers with stored water, gardeners and grass types harvested fresh berries from the garden, everyone working together as one. By Monday morning, dozens of Flying types had been fashioned with protective gear and GPS trackers, and saddled with baskets of supplies, and sent off to find those in dire need.

To be continued??

[silverequation]

[wisheduponastar]

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « Whumptober Day 7 »

Wordcount : 2.2k / Read on Ao3

Only for emergencies | unconventional weapon | magic with a cost | “it’s us or them”

Summary : It's been almost three years (two years, seven months, and sixteen days later), and Faramir is doing better around fire. Good enough for most of his life, good enough for almost every event that he can think of. What Faramir does not think of is an ambush. Or an ambush with fire.

Or, Faramir is hit with a burning arrow. Aragorn is quick to help.

TWs : PTSD elements, injury

Almost three years later (two years, seven months, and sixteen days later) Faramir can say he is almost all better. In a way, he was lucky with the fire. Or at least that is what he tells himself. The flames burnt only on the first layers of skin, skin that could regrow. The only lasting (physical) damage being scarring - an occasional twinge of pain. A look of pity at him, at everything the steward has been through. But he can survive such things. He must.

His mind is better, as well. Most of his nights are now spent dreamless, and when he wakes up it is because of the chiming of a bell - not because he feels rings of fire enveloping him and burning him alive. Faramir can fully abide candles, putting them out by pinching the flame between two thumbs - in a way that always worried Boromir - and does not mind their presence. (A small part of him still prickles and causes his hand to freeze once he has touched the fire, but that is more of a pain instinct. A natural one.) He can even stand larger fires, one as big as the pyre he… When he stands near them he cannot smell burning flesh anymore, or anything else that used to happen when Faramir would gaze upon it. Yes, he does not like standing near them - but that is only a small concession in what is otherwise a victory. Besides, he has never abided by fires anyway - they make him clammy too quickly, especially in the dressier robes he now so often wears.

Gripping the reins of his horse, Faramir stares at his hands once again. He doesn’t usually see them like this - white against something and in dusk - and for some reason his brain is endlessly fascinated by what his body has become. Never mind that these are the hands that have stuck with him for so long, or that surely he’s seen them in this position before.

“Faramir?” Aragorn is beside him, or as close to that as you can get on horse-back, and he too is holding the reins in his hand. Positioned to speed his horse up. Instantly Faramir gets into the position, nodding his assent and trying not to feel too guilty. They’re just hands, just his hands. If Aragorn had noticed the situation, which Faramir rather suspects he has, the king keeps quiet and allows them to keep riding. Or perhaps he wants to draw attention to it when they are not with other rangers.

The ride continues to be uneventful, and Faramir begins to set his sights on the road they are to travel ahead too. When his eye catches something else, always drawn to it. The strange flickering of fire, recognisable to him even in dusk. Even when concealed within trees, and with shapes standing around it and bearing ill intent. Faramir realises what is about to happen just as the fire illuminates a bow, and an arrow begins to fly through the night.

“Ambush!” His horse instinctively rears at the noise, and Faramir splits his attention between staying on his mount and making sure that his king is not hurt.

The arrow directed at Aragorn does not hit him, the arrow directed at Faramir does. He turns just in time to see an arrow go through the night, somehow ablaze and perfectly illuminated. He can see the fire soaring towards him, its tip perfectly pointed, and yet Faramir feels he cannot move. He cannot look away from this sight, from this pain. The memories of burning pain are just taking hold when they are replaced with a tangible cause. His mount begins to flee from the fire, and so Faramir does not take it to the chest.

Arrows are also not designed to be set on fire - at least not often - and so this one dips, embedding itself in his forearm. The pain is not too bad, not for an experienced soldier, but it is the burning. Letting go of your horse as it rears is not a logical move, but Faramir is not governed by logic. He is governed by fear - fear and pain. And the innate knowledge that he must get this fire away from him. Fear makes him grasp hold of the arrow and pull, although thankfully the arrow doesn’t come out.

The brief clarity given to him by pain is enough for him to change tact, instead snapping off as much of the flame as he can and throwing it away. His hand is burning, burning enough that fear makes him immediately discard it. Near his mount. Unsurprisingly the horse rears again, and this time Faramir thinks he is falling. He isn’t entirely sure. He can still feel the heat on himself, can begin to smell burning flesh. Faramir is only sure that he is being burnt alive.

Aragorn hears Faramir call out that there is an ambush, instantly beginning to turn his horse so he can see the full extent. He sees the first arrow coming towards him, and he bends slightly to the side - watching as others come from the treeline. Aragorn acknowledges the calls from fellow rangers in a way a soldier does, not focusing on the individual but rather the collective. The fact his troops are quick to go to the enemy and return fire. Fire their enemy has quite literally attacked them with.

He has seen fire arrows a few times before, but generally in sieges or against wooden structures. The weapons themselves are impractical, and he wonders who is actually attacking them. If they know they are attempting to ambush the High King. Blazing through the night another arrow is illuminated, and this time Aragorn watches its path as he urges his horse forward and towards their attackers. And that is when he sees it hit Faramir.

The flames lick up towards his face, and Aragorn can see the frozen expression. The terror in Faramir’s eyes as he instinctively reaches for it, desperately clawing to try and get the flames off him. Just as the arrow vanishes, flames begin to spread to his tunic, catching on the cotton, a fact Faramir does not recognise as he is quick to throw it away.

“Faramir, the flames-” In the second it takes for Aragorn to begin to call, he sees Faramir fall off his horse and to the ground. The steward rolls once, twice, both to avoid his horse and dampen the flames, but then seems to almost give up. Confident in his companions, Aragorn turns his horse back to Faramir - instructing it onward and dismounting while in motion, going as quickly as he can to him.

Once Faramir has stopped rolling he seems almost catatonic, curled in on himself and not moving if not for the ragged breathing that makes his body shape. The slick movement of blood that dribbles down his arm onto the earth, open flesh occasionally shining in the moonlight. It has been a long time, to his knowledge, that Faramir has had one of these episodes - and even when they were frequent he would never let anyone deal with them. Aragorn would take the fire away, hold him and reassure him that any threat he sees is gone now. He cannot take the fire away this time.

But he can still hold Faramir close, try to reassure him. Looking up, Aragorn checks to see what the ambushers are doing - if this is safe. The noise of the fighting is dying down, and he can hear Faramir in pain. Even if the fighting was ongoing, he still isn’t entirely sure if he’d care. Because he immediately drops down to his steward’s side - assessing the situation.

The bleeding isn’t as bad as he’d thought, it’s slower and sluggish up close. Although the arrowhead is still embedded in there, splinters of wood both sticking from the broken shaft and into the wound. As the wound flexes again more splinters are shown, the wood flaking into his skin, and Aragorn tries not to wince. It’s better than having it be on fire, he supposes, for many reasons. Gently, Aragorn places his hand above the wound - bracing incase Faramir tries to struggle against it.

Instead Faramir lets out a feverish moan, like he did when he was on pyre all that time ago. He’s not moving in the same way, and so Aragorn begins to press more firmly, both to stop the bleeding and to bring Faramir out of whatever evils plague his mind. “Faramir. Faramir, it’s me.”

“I-” Something in Faramir is more lucid, and when his eyes turn to look at Aragorn there’s recognition in them. The next words are only a whisper, “Don’t let me burn. Please, please don’t-”

“I’m not.” Aragorn pulls his steward closer to him, taking care not to jostle the wound while still making sure they’re close. “See, you’re next to me. And I’m not burning, so you’re not burning. You’re okay here, I won’t let anything happen.” He doesn’t say they’re safe, there’s always a chance of something, so he only says what is true. Because he will not let anything happen right - when there are the two of them. Faramir takes a deep breath, more steadying, and he looks more aware as he looks around. Aragorn moves a finger to hide the wound from sight when Faramir tries to see it, rewarded by the slightly exasperated noise his steward makes. It’s jesting, but he can still hear the tension in Faramir’s voice.

“I promise there is no fire, Faramir. You can check.”

It’s a small, simple routine the two had established. Of Faramir’s hands meandering to wherever the fire had been, whatever is around him, taking in the coolness of the flesh. He can feel the simple cloth and leather of Aragorn’s chestplate, the gentle spun of the trousers - a little more suited to a king, if not entirely. The dagger that sits on his belt - showing a ranger. He looks for permission to unsheath it, which Aragorn grants with a nod, and he feels the metal. It is cold, not branding level of heat. Not any level of heat - if you do not count the residual warmth of humanity.

“No fire?”

No matter how many times he’s said it, Aragorn’s voice always remains steady and never judgemental. It makes Faramir safe to respond, however he feels. Today, he’s better at it, “No fire.”

“So just the arrow wound to your arm.” Aragorn smiles slightly as he sees his steward start, almost as if he’d forgotten about it. “I apologise for not doing anything with it beforehand, I just wanted to make sure it would be safe for me to touch you.”

“Thank you.” As soon as Faramir says the words, Aragorn tightens his grip on the wound - watching as the blood slows a little. Working together, Faramir gives Aragorn the bandages and tries not to make a noise of pain while Aragorn ties the wound.

Getting closer to the arrow shaft, Aragorn looks at the splinters together. “Do you know how far we are from Minas Tirith?”

“Only an hour more, your majesty.” A voice answers from behind, “It was simply bandits. If you wish, the two of you can ride on. We can follow with the survivors.”

“Were there casualties?” Much to Aragorn annoyance, Faramir pushes himself to stand - at least not putting any weight on his injured arm.

“None on our side.”

“You should ride.” Aragorn stands up as well, holding the bandage and trying to refrain from tutting like a worried mother. “Gently, as not to aggravate the wound. Get it treated quickly.”

“You need not treat me like a child, Aragorn. But as a-”

A slight hiss of pain escapes him as Aragorn wraps the rest of the bandage around, feeling the wooden splinters digging into his skin before settling again. Aragorn simply gives a nod as he ties off the bandage, “Ride, and inform the healers of wooden chips under the bandage - get them to take them out as soon as you arrive.”

“The roads are hardly safe to stay on.” Faramir looks back to the grove where the other rangers are, “It is not safe for our king to be on.”

“I would not abandon troops, nor would I keep an injured soldier on the field.”

There’s a second more of silence before the ranger speaks again, “Sires. It might be worth… it might be worth both of you travelling together, with appropriate guard, of course.”

“I don’t want to slow you down.”

“You won’t.” Aragorn’s voice is steady, “Very well, if you are sure. We will ride together, at an appropriate speed. One that will not aggravate your wounds.”

Something in Faramir, conditioned by so many years, wants to protest that he doesn’t need any of this. That he will be able to keep up with the rest of the riders, before he realises why Aragorn is saying it. This offer is a genuine one, and not a belittling one. The same he would offer any of his troops if needed. And so Faramir lets himself breathe, and prepares to mount his horse, “I’ll try to keep safe.”

[2plottwist]

Spin Off - Chapter 1

Pairing: Astarion x Female!OC (Kynna)

Characters: Kynna, Astarion, Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart

Warnings: none

Author: Kenna:)

Word Count: 1.5k

Series Masterlist

The rain patters against the window. The small droplets highlighted by the soft lamps and fairy lights illuminating the room. A candle wafts, the smell of bergamot and rosemary, through the dimly lit room. The brightest light in the room comes from the computer, way too overheated, due to the length I’ve been playing this game. 

The Baldur’s Gate 3 video game has been out for well over a year and I’ve never stopped playing. The amount of time I’ve played this game is concerning. The line of characters I’ve made goes out the door, each race and class mix matched among themselves. My favorite so far? Kynna, a wood elf ranger, completely in tune with the nature and animals around her.

On nights like these, where the rain and wind move past my window in bursts, the darkness of the house is finally silent. My stresses and worries of work and bills slowly disappear. The anxiety that creeps into my brain as I scroll through endless “for you” and discover pages of social media platforms dissipate into nothing. My world calms when I enter this adventure-filled, magical video game. It kind of sucks that it’s fake. 

Failing a critical role after using the rest of my inspiration to re-roll, I decide to call it a night. I have to be up early tomorrow and I could easily play this game until 3 am. I bring my party back to camp, making sure to check in with all the characters and have enough camp supplies to “sleep”. 

As I bring the game to its menu, a small purple spot appears on my screen. As it grows, the glowing light fills the room, exerting white sparks that prickle my skin. I jump at the contact, What the Fuck? My stomach drops and my heart races as I forcefully press the power button of my computer. I can’t ruin another fucking computer with this game.

Fear like I’ve never known envelops my entire body. My legs go numb and my eyes burn causing tears to drop to my cheeks. Shit, Shit, Shit! My incessant pounding of the power button does nothing to lessen the increasing light and heat coming from my computer. I yelp once burn marks appear on the tops of my thighs. 

I jump out of my bed and throw the laptop on the sheets. Cowering as far away as possible, I panic, dropping my head between my knees, and wait for this nightmare to be over. My cries are drowned out by the whirring and whooshing of light racing around my room. The last thing I sense is the pounding of bright purple light behind my eyelids, then silence. 

Crickets and a crackling fire replace the silence. Tears still soak my face when I look up. A night sky, stars shine when I finally open my eyes. Goosebumps rise on my skin as a light breeze moves past my body, bringing with it an absence of the candle I’ve been burning. 

Oh my god, my computer exploded. It blasted me outside.

My thoughts race, but my body stays as still as a statue. My muscles begin to scream with the amount of tension that coils through my arms and legs. I drag my eyes from the sky to take in the rest of my surroundings. 

Thinking I would see the tan sidings of my house, my eyes widen at the fact that I’m surrounded by large trees and grass as tall as my knees. The smell of dirt and pine move through my senses as a small butterfly quietly floats across my vision. Where on Earth am I?

My body gains the strength to stand. I look down and see that my pajamas were replaced by a worn leather top and green cotton fabric. My legs are covered in leather pants and boots that reach my knees. My stomach drops, fear continuing to rack my body. I wimp my head around, nearly throwing myself off balance to see familiar tents and bed rolls circling a burning fire. 

My entire body goes numb, “Oh. My. God,” I grab my face and shake my head, “No,” I whisper. 

My fight or flight kicks in causing my feet to move without intuition, I run the opposite way of the camp. Before I can make one step, my face slams into a wall, bringing my feet out from under me and my back to the dirt. My head spins with the impact, my vision blurring but catching a glimpse of bright purple reminding me of the glowing light that I saw just moments ago. 

“Kynna?” a low voice breaks my blurring vision. The name of my character, my nickname, hits my ears and brings my body back to the present. 

I open my eyes again to see Gale? “What the fuck,” I whisper, narrowing my eyes, trying to get a better look at the figure towering in front of me. 

The figure rolls his eyes, “Language,” he sighs, extending a hand towards me. 

I flinch at the action and dig my heels into the soil, confusion racing through my head and fear still willing my legs to run in the opposite direction. 

“Kynna? Are you okay?” Gale asks, tilting his head in confusion. 

I shake my head. This isn’t real. This is a dream. 

My hand moves to my neck and I pinch, hard. Pain pricks my senses leaving me with the horrid thought that I’m not on Earth anymore. Taking in a deep breath, I rest my hand on my throat, feeling divots in the skin there. 

My eyes widen again as my fingers quickly run over the two holes gracing the skin, “No way,” I whisper as I dig my fingernails into the small scars. 

“Don’t act surprised,” Gale huffs, finally grabbing my arm and pulling my body upright, “He has you wrapped around his cold, half-dead finger,” 

My eyes are dry with the length of time they have been bulging. “W-what?” I whisper.

“Astarion,” he says quickly, “Don’t act dumb, we all know.” 

“Did I hear my name?” a sultry voice sweeps across the air. Silver hair peeks out of a red tent across the clearing. A bright smile and red eyes breaks through the darkness of the night, fangs protruding from his lips. 

Astarion. My breath hitches in my throat, and I step back, quickly tripping over a bedroll conveniently placed on the ground. My back meets the soil again, “Gods,” Gale snaps. 

“What in the hells is going on over there?” a booming voice radiates from the woods behind us. Bright red skin moves through the leaves soon bringing Karlach into focus. 

“Oh God,” I whisper rolling over on my stomach to see the large tiefling. 

“Kynna, come on,” Gale huffs again, grabbing the back of my arms. 

Fire erupts from his touch. Fear finally reaches every inch of my body bringing violent shivers and bile rising in my throat. “Don’t touch me,” I snap, pushing myself off the ground. 

Finally finding my strength, I quickly step away from the light of the fire and into the dark brush surrounding the clearing. 

“I can’t do this,” I whisper, moving vines and branches out of my way, “There’s no fucking way this is real.” 

I stop once I feel like I’ve made a safe distance between myself and the fake video game characters. I drop my hands to my knees, focusing on bringing my breathing back to normal. My head spins, thinking of the sequence of events over the past few minutes. 

Game. Spot. Purple. Heat. Gale. Astarion. Karlach. What the fuck?

Bile finally reaches my mouth and I empty the contents of my stomach. Violent shaking and whimpers overtake my body. Tears spill over my face. I drop to my knees in front of my waste, hair falling in front of my eyes. 

I take in my appearance. My hair is long and wavy, small braids scattering through the locks. My hands are gloved, except for my fingers. The green shirt is folded to reveal my forearms. My ranger clothes. 

Kynna. I remember Gale calling me. My avatar in Baldur’s Gate.

My name is Kynna. I’m a wood elf ranger from the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate. I’m in the forests of Faerun. My companions are camped out for the night after a day of adventure. I have a mind flayer parasite crawling around in my head. 

My eyes move back and forth through the dirt, trying to sort through my racing thoughts. I could feel the leech moving behind my eye. Another wave of nausea rounds my body and I heave more of my insides to the ground. 

Lifting my head and wiping my mouth, I lean my back against a tree, chest still quickly moving with each breath. What am I going to do? How did I get here?

No matter how many times I ask myself that, the answer won’t fall out of the sky. I decide there’s only one thing left to do, the one thing I know I’m the best at. Play the game until I wake up.

[savageshadows]

shdwtouch asked: Send "accident" to accidentally pull on the tail (from shade, please know she is immediately apologizing)

the chimera leapt to massive paws as pain shot up her spine. with a spin, teeth bared and ears flat, be'lakor snarled loudly. it was a reaction, quick and without thought. perhaps if she remembered that she was traveling with others, a rare occurrence, then the reaction might not have been as violent.

shade was supposed to be out and about in the town near. be'lakor didn't want to go in to trade but gave some goods to the other hoping they'll be able to replace the dirty backpack or hole filled sleeping bag. stupid! be'lakor cursed at herself for allowing to nap, to let down her guard.

as soon as the chimera breathed in the ranger's scent and took in the smaller form cowering below, there was slight embarrassment. she lowered her prickled fur around her shoulders, swishing her short fluffy tail and huffed particularly in shade's face.

maybe... that was an overreaction.

[lpmurphy]

Spring in Tchakova Park

Read on AO3

Master List

Chapter Playlist

Summary: Green was the color of the grass where he used to walk in Tchakova Park.

In which John meets a stranger in the park, Violet learns of the care and keeping of Spartans, and Cortana offers dating advice. (Complete 5/7/24)

Chapter Summary: Violet gets a glimpse into John's area of work and receives chilling instructions from Kai.

Chapter Thirty One: Incursion

Violet sat upright in bed at the sound of the second explosion. Purple-white light glowed on the walls before dissipating with the sound as quickly as it came, leaving her squinting in the darkness for the source of the noise. She could hear shouting beyond the window of the small room, but could not make out what was being said as she tossed back the blankets. The skies were still dark beyond the window panes. The only light that illuminated the base was of the too bright floodlights of the south guard tower that sat just beyond the greenhouses. She grasped around for her pad on the bed and tapped the screen awake to find a series of party hat and confetti cannon emoticons from Kai sitting underneath the date and time. The too early hour above the date announced that it was well past three in the morning on November 23rd; her 31st birthday. 

Violet rubbed her eyes and crossed the room to the door to poke her head out into the hallway. She found Meredith doing the same, the blonde’s face shadowed in the dark as she stood in her door frame. Violet looked around the darkened shared space to find the same bright colored birthday decorations they used for every celebration over the years strung up around the room. The team must have snuck out of their rooms to put them up when she returned from the greenhouses, she thought. She tried to make sense of the noises and the continued voices that cut through the night, chalking it up to another one of the team’s elaborate birthday surprises that they would bombard one another with each year. She turned to Meredith and yawned.

“Are you guys doing some dumb firework stunt again? You got in so much trouble with the Rangers when you did that on my 28th; I can’t imagine that John’s team is going to be much happier about it. Well, Kai might. Call it off before you get me in trouble and go to bed,” Violet rubbed her eyes again and started to turn back towards her room, but Meredith remained planted in her doorway.

Another loud boom rattled the windows. Both Violet and Meredith jumped and Violet gasped at the sound, her heart pounding as she wrapped her arms around herself. The thunder of gunfire followed after and took with it any exhaustion that had still lingered within her and replaced it with a roaring between her ears. Both women straightened up to listen, heads snapping to the windows over the kitchen sink. Meredith looked back to Violet, the flash of purple light illuminating her panicked face as she shook her head in response to Violet’s statement. Violet could not recall a time she had seen fear on her friend’s face as she did now. She still remembered the expression on Meredith’s face during the climbing accident that had left her scarred. Meredith hadn’t had time to be afraid as she fell, Violet could only remember a flicker of shock as she grabbed her friend’s hand. But the way Meredith stared back at her, gaunt and afraid, left Violet’s own body prickling with fright. 

“That’s not us,” Meredith breathed. 

Violet glanced back at her before turning back into her room for her shoes. Greg had warned that the insurrectionist cells that occupied the region had become active since the famine when they arrived. Violet had experienced several coordinated attacks during her time at the base, but none had ever been as close as this sounded. She assumed it was no different as she crossed back out of her room into the kitchen. Meredith followed her to the kitchen window as they looked out into the dark. Violet held her breath as she pressed her hands against the counter and leaned over the sink to watch as shadowed silhouettes darted about, her teeth gnashing at her cheek.

“What's going on?” Meredith whispered beside her.

“I don’t know,” Violet replied shakily. She watched between the greenhouses and guard towers, recognizing Greg’s stature in the dark as he barked out orders that remained unintelligible from where she stood. She had heard the tone he used enough times for it to tighten her chest and knot her stomach with worry. “I don’t think it’s anything good, though.”

Her instinct was only confirmed by the shriek of emergency alarms. Red lights flashed in the dark room. Door knobs turned behind her as the team started to emerge from their own rooms, their faces illuminated in the eerie wash of light. Jin blinked at the harsh flashes with wide eyes and covered her ears with her hands before shouting over the cry of alarms, “What’s happening? Are we under attack?”

Saul slipped out from her room behind her and wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him and covering her hands with his own. He looked to where Violet stood at the windows, the team erupting into a chorus of the same repeated questions that she didn’t have the answer to, watching the same fear that dizzied her flash across the faces of her team. She watched Greg, still shouting and gesturing to teams before they would run off in different directions, gunfire still an angry pounding of light in the distance.

“I don’t know,” Violet muttered. She peered through the kitchen window as she tugged on her sneakers, searching through the chaos beyond it for the source. She took a final searching look before she turned and started towards the exit and called over her shoulder, “I’m going to go find out. Stay here. Follow incursion procedures and lock down while I’m gone.”

Meredith tugged on her shoes as well and followed, pulling her hair back as she jogged after Violet, “I’m coming with you.”

“No, stay here until I come back.” Violet shouted down the hallway, breaking through the doors in a jog. The pound of her feet against the ground sent up a cloud of rest dust that stung in her nostrils as she batted it out of her face with a cough. The same dust clung to the air and made it thick and heavy, disturbed by the motion that sprung from the base. The roar of gunfire and shouts were deafening as each shot rang through the still night air. Meredith ran out beside her and set the red into the air again. Both women blinked it out of their eyes as they scanned the chaotic scene ahead of them. 

“I told you to stay inside!” Violet shouted over the noise, pointing back at the door. 

“And let you have all the fun without me? Are you crazy?” Meredith laughed weakly and Violet noticed that her smile quivered as she looked back at her. “What are you doing, Harris? Get back inside! We should wait for someone to get us!”

Violet ignored Meredith’s request as she glanced around wildly, searching for someone who could clue her into what she needed to prepare her team for. She searched in the long shadows stretched by the flood lights that illuminated Nomad in a bright white glow and her eyes fell to where she saw Greg’s team. A familiar flash of green among them caught her eye. She saw John and started running, desperately hoping that he could tell her something.

“You can’t run out into a firefight, you fucking idiot! Get inside!” 

Meredith broke into a sprint behind her to follow her friend as Violet ran towards John. Gunfire cracked around her. Local militia rushed the barrier wall to protect against the threats that approached. A strange humming turned her eyes overhead as she kept towards John and Violet felt her blood chill at the sight of what glided above her. The strange small ships she had only ever seen in news footage and propaganda commercials circled the base and Violet knew that her hopes of insurgents were tame compared to what she knew was carried by them. Meredith shouted beside her, her words lost to the noise as they neared where the Master Chief stood.

Gold caught sight of Violet as she neared. His head snapped towards her as he turned to point back where she had come from and began to shout from where he stood with weapons drawn. Greg looked over to where the Chief pointed and Violet skidded to a halt with a shriek as the barrel of Greg’s weapon turned towards her for a moment before he identified her.

“Get inside!” The Chief roared, his voice cutting through the noise. 

Violet only continued in her run to where he stood with Meredith trailing behind her. The Chief’s repeated order did not have the chance to meet the botanist’s ears as a flash of green struck a guard tower and sent the structure up in a crack of light and debris. John grabbed Violet by the waist and pulled her to him, turning his back to where debris rained from the explosion and leaning his body over her. Violet clapped her hands over her ears and snapped her eyes shut, fear pounding through her as John closed her in his embrace. He straightened up again and Violet cracked her eyes open to find Meredith bent with arms over her head. Greg straightened up from where he had done the same and put himself between Meredith and the tower. 

“I told you to get inside, Violet. Now!” John’s voice boomed through his helmet. His hands gripped her arms as he surveyed their surroundings, watching the banshee turn overhead, “Vannak, you on that one?”

He nodded to whatever response he received. Armored hands closed over her ears to block the crack of heavy artillery from nearby, sending a blast to the ship that sent it spiraling downwards. Violet watched her surrounded in horror; gunfire cracked as it was returned to whatever was kept contained beyond the walls. People she had befriended over the years ran about. Lazy buildings she had walked past for years sprang to life around her in shouted commands. 

Violet turned to where the village would be visible once the sun rose and felt her stomach clench at the sight of the orange glow of firelight that existed where her neighbors should sit. Dread flooded into her, nauseating and thick as it settled into her gut. She held back the scream that threatened to rip through her. She had seen sights like this on the news. Had watched the digitized dramatizations in the video games that Saul and Lief played mindlessly. She had imagined them from the stories John would tell her from the safety of their living room where she could pretend that they were just stories and not the horrors he was sent out into in an attempt to hide her own fear. But she couldn’t pretend any longer as she watched the Covenant descend upon her former home and her love standing tall against them.

“Get Doctor Harris and Doctor Powell somewhere secure,” The Chief shouted to Greg. Mullins nodded as he called to Violet and waved her over, reaching out his hand to her. Meredith called for her as well. 

John let go of her arms, “I’ll find you when this is done, Goose. Go with Mullins. That’s an order.”

Violet lurched forward to grab his hand and the Chief turned. Violet found herself staring at her own reflection in the gold; tank top and sweats smeared with dust and sweat, panic wild in her eyes as she grasped his fingers. The fear, the panic, the rot settled into her bones as she looked up at him, knowing that this time she would be forced to bear witness to the horrors he took a piece of her into every time he went.

“John, wait.” 

The Chief turned back to her, his hand gripped in hers. “I have to go, Vi,” he said. Violet could hear the finality in his words through the helmet, but he squeezed her fingers gently. “I’m going to go. Every time. I need you to let me go and find somewhere safe. Please.”

Violet clung to his hand and looked to where the village burned in the distance. The dread of losing more than one home to the same force paralyzed her. Medics rushed by with stretchers, shouting to one another as they treated both villagers and soldiers alike. Violet saw a familiar face running behind a medic. A bloody gash stained the forehead of the young girl as she cried. Violet had known her since she was a toddler, played with her while her mother harvested in the greenhouses; Sophea. She had grown up tall and beautiful just like her mother in the months Violet had been gone. Sophea spotted Violet and ran to her, gripping Violet’s free hand as she cried. Violet spoke to the girl in Khmer, offering soothing words as she looked back to John, still caught in the gilded gaze.

A medic grabbed her arm as he passed and pulled her focus away from John. Sophea still gripped her hand tightly as she cried. Violet pulled the girl to her, stroking her hair and whispering words of comfort as the girl clung to her middle. 

“You speak local, right Doctor?” the medic shouted. She struggled to hear him over the noise, her ears still ringing, but she nodded. The medic pointed towards the mess hall. “They’re taking all of the wounded to the mess. Villagers and our guys- we don’t have all of our translators available. They’re going to need all the help they can get.” 

She turned her eyes back to John, his hand still gripping hers. She looked between him to the chaos around her and knew that he would always go. She would always wish he would stay, but she would never ask it of him. She looked to the need around her before she brought her eyes back to the Master Chief. 

“I love you,” she breathed. 

John touched the cool metal of the helm to her forehead, “I love you, goose.” 

She nodded and tightened her arm around Sophea. She squeezed his fingers a final time and dropped his hand, “Go.”

“I’ll find you.”

His fingers slipped from hers as he turned from her. Violet watched for a moment as he ran off towards the chaos. Sophea’s arms tighten around her. Violet leaned down and hoisted the girl up onto her hip with a final look to John. Sophea tucked her head into Violet’s shoulder as she cried and Violet brought her hand to the girl’s hair as she whispered to her, telling her to keep her eyes closed. 

“Violet,” Greg called again. “Let’s go!”

“I’m going to help,” she shouted back, starting off behind the medics as they moved towards the mess hall. “I’m not going to sit inside while you all do your part. I need to do mine.”

Greg cursed as Meredith pushed past him to follow Violet, shouting out that she was coming to. Greg followed behind the two women, shouting his disapproval, but Violet continued after the medics. They pushed through the doors of the mess and Violet stepped in after them. Meredith was beside her a moment later, both women watching in horror as they took in the space around them. Violet had shared meals in this space, had flirted with Greg over coffee in the mornings before she left. But the cafeteria-like space had succumbed to the horrors beyond the doors as medics and surgeons volleyed between cots, assessing and triaging the wounded. 

Violet had only had a handful of injuries in her lifetime; the broken leg she had suffered during her fall being the most visceral of them all. Splintered bone had jutted from her flesh, puncturing her skin in a grotesque display of blood and viscera that had made her ill. What she saw within the walls of the bustling field hospital made the break look like a paper cut. Her stomach churned as she looked over the wounded that lay on cots around her, bodies mangled and bloodied. The metallic stench of blood hung thick in the air, mingling with the nauseating reek of singed flesh. Violet swallowed down the sob that bubbled in her throat and set down Sophea as a medic passed, grabbing his arm. 

“She has a cut on her forehead,” Violet explained. “She needs stitches.”

“That’s low priority right now. I’ll get her some gauze, but we have bigger shit to deal with than a kid with a cut.”

Violet eyes returned to the wounded. She watched as a sheet was drawn up over the face of a young blonde woman, her eyes staring blankly up as she was covered. Violet recognized her; she had been stationed at Nomad the year before Violet left; Anderson. She had only been 21 when she arrived. Lief had a crush on her. Violet realized then that she had never seen a dead person before. She nodded to the medic and instructed Sophea to follow him before the man led her to where those with less pressing injuries sat. 

“We need translators,” he informed Violet. “None of us know what the fuck they’re saying.”

“We’re both fluent,” Meredith stepped past Violet. “Where do you need us?”

“We have a guy whose wife isn’t going to make it. Can one of you help the doctor break the news?”

Meredith nodded and gave Violet’s arm a squeeze as she passed, following the medic to where the surgeons had set up impromptu surgical suites. Violet watched her weave through the cots. Pained cries and weeping cutting through the beeps of medical equipment and the short. Clipped jargon she had only ever heard on medical dramas was exchanged between medical staff. Greg grabbed her shoulder and turned her to face him.

“What the fuck were you thinking running out there?” He hissed, concerned etching his features beyond the anger that laced his tone. “You know exactly what to do if the base is compromised. Have you lost your damn mind?”

Violet sputtered, eyes still darting around the room. Worry and panic settled into her as she looked beyond him to where gunfire flashed beyond them. Her thoughts swirled around John; around her friends. Around the destruction that ripped apart her home. He had told her that he would find her and she clung to the notion that this would end and she would see him again. She forced out the thoughts that crept in to fill her with the terror that kept her frozen to the spot. Greg stared back at her, his hand still gripping her shoulder, and she opened her mouth to find that only tears came. 

“I needed to see him,” she whispered, a wet hiccup bubbling from her. 

Greg’s eyes softened as she wiped her eyes, “You’re going to be fine, Sunshine. So is he. You hear me? Just don’t fucking run outside again. Stay here.”

She nodded, sniffling as she took a steadying breath. Greg squeezed her arm a final time before he turned towards the door. He paused and turned back to look at her with her name on his lips. Violet straightened up to hear what her friend had to say, but he stopped. Greg offered her a tight smile and a nod before he turned a final time and pushed through the doors. 

Violet turned back to the field hospital and took a final steadying breath before releasing herself from where she stood. A villager clung to the hand of a passing medic, pleading for her to help his son as the medic shook her head and repeated adamantly that she couldn’t understand him. Violet crossed to them and quickly began translating between the two. The man pointed towards a surgical suite where surgeons hovered over a teenager, his abdomen open and innards exposed. The medic turned to Violet and shook her head solemnly. Violet’s heart sunk as she gripped the man’s hand as he wept, knowing the motion needed no translation. 

The doors of the mess burst open again and Violet looked up, bracing herself for whatever familiar face would roll in next. She instead found a flash of turquoise as Kai entered and scanned over the room. Her eyes fell on Violet before she trudged to her. Violet straightened up as Kai neared her, her heart racing as she regarded the determined way her friend moved. She started towards her and met her halfway as Kai began to speak. 

“Arms up,” Kai instructed. Violet’s brows rose in confusion, but Kai didn’t give her a moment to consider the request before she grabbed Violet’s arms and threw them up to drop a heavy armored vest over her head. Kai strapped her in quickly, pulling straps tight and adjusting the position in which it sat on her body. 

“What are you doing?” Violet gasped out as Kai pulled it tight again.

“Chief’s orders,” Kai replied simply. “A plate carrier isn’t going to save you from a direct plasma blast, but it might keep a needle out of your heart if it comes down to it. Pull your hair out of the back.”

Violet gathered her hair in her hands and pulled it sharply out of the back of the vest. She watched Kai check over the gun she held before thrusting it into Violet’s arms. Violet recoiled at the weapon as it was shoved into her hands and Kai turned her focus to a handgun as she looked over it. 

“That’s a M7 SMG,” Kai stated. The jumble of letters meant nothing to Violet as she stared down at it. She may as well have been speaking a different language to Violet as she continued, “If anything makes it through, you point this at that door and light it up. Understood?”

“What?” She gasped. She held the gun back out to Kai and shook her head vigorously. “No. I don’t do guns, Kai. Tell him I don’t want that.”

“He figured you would say that,” She replied, the effervescence of her friend hardened as Violet looked up at the turquoise that covered her eyes. “You do today, Violet.”

“No, I can’t,” Violet repeated. “I’ve never held a gun before, much less shot one. I have no idea-.”

Kai interrupted her and thrust the gun back into her arms again. She gestured to the parts of the weapon as she instructed, “You pull this, you point it, you press this and hope like hell it hits something. If you do, make sure it’s dead.”

“Kai, I’m a botanist. I can’t-.” 

“You think that matters to them?” Violet stiffened at her tone, having never heard the blonde speak as fiercely as she did. “The Covenant doesn’t care, Violet. None of that matters today. They get through the doors and you’re dead. This is war. This is how you survive. Do you understand?”

Violet swallowed and nodded. Kai held the handgun out to her and Violet stared down at it. “This is the only way that will give you a chance,” she explained. She took Violet’s hand and placed the handgun into it. “And if it doesn’t give you a chance, it gives you an escape plan.”

“What do you mean?” Violet stared up at her friend and hoped that Kai’s words did not carry the weight she feared they did. 

“If the Covenant gets through those doors, you don’t want to find yourself as a prisoner. This is the way out of that,” Kai closed her fingers around the cool metal and pushed Violet’s hand towards her. The chilling gravity of her implication settled into Violet. She swallowed hard and nodded as Kai thrust the gun towards her again, this time more pleading than the first.

Violet looked up into the turquoise that masked the eyes of her friend and nodded, taking the gun from Kai. Kai’s voice dropped as she squeezed the botanist’s shoulder. “I hope it doesn’t come to that.” 

Kai turned back to the doors and left her standing between the cots. Meredith watched her from where she stood over a bedside, Violet recognizing the fear in the blonde’s eyes as she helped a medic bandage the arm of a soldier. 

She looked down at the weapons she held, the masses of metal foreign under her fingertips, Kai’s statement chilling her still as she looked back to the doors. Behind her someone called for a translator. Violet took a final look at the door before she turned in the direction of the call. She hoped it didn’t come to that, either. 

[twstedstoryshop]

VR AU: Savanaclaw

Your next destination led you outside your keep and into the night air. Countless stars twinkled overhead, a sight you never really got to see in the city you live outside this game. To be able to see such a sky, even if it wasn’t truly real, was a gift really. You continued on, following a pathway that soon brought you to an ancient structure. It resembled a colosseum, made entirely of sandstone that shifted between bands of dark red to pale yellow. It was far from pristine though as sizeable cracks and chunks marred its exterior. It looked more like ruins than anything, but you liked the way it looked. It gave a sense that whatever battles took place here was enough to rock this great building’s foundations.

You made your way inside. Your augmented reality made your skin physically prickle from the coolness of the shadows that were cast. You could hear the sounds of a scuffle bouncing between the stones. In the light of torches that illuminated the stands, you would lay your eyes upon the vast training grounds. Kicking up a cloud of dust, you saw a pair of figures exchanging blows. Animalistic growls and barks resounded into the night air. For any normal person, they would have mistaken it for wild beasts viciously going at each other. But you knew better. There would be breaks in the dust where you saw flashes of fierce golden eyes meeting with mirthful gray ones.

Jack Howl Moonlit Warrior Level: 45 Classes: Fighter, Paladin Jobs: Outlander, Mercenary Race: Lycanthrope (Wolf) Main Weapon: Twilight Blade

Ruggie Bucchi Smiling Glutton, Friend of Fools Level: 88 Classes: Rogue, Phantom Thief, Ranger Jobs: Charlatan, Jack-of-all-trades Race: Gnoll Main Weapon: Whispering Knives

Jack was training hard as ever, wood shield and sword in hand, standing his ground fiercely. Even in combat, the proud and stubborn wolf didn’t want to tuck tail and back away. Even to the likes of an older guild member. It was a trait in Jack that either made him great in combat or a weak link in your formations. Ahh, but that’s why you’ve been idly training him in the background. To keep grinding and hoping those level-ups will cover up for his weaknesses.

On the flipside, you glance over to Ruggie, your menace of a rogue. He didn't pull punches as he mercilessly pushed Jack further and further into a corner. Like the hyaenidae he represented, he persisted in chipping away at the larger man’s defenses as he merely bided his time in Jack’s exhaustion. Suddenly with a great leap, he jumped at Jack. The wolf brought up his shield and was nearly kicked back with Ruggie’s hyena-like legs and claws forcibly knocking against him. Ruggie smirked and cocky laughter piped from him.

“C’mon now, Jack! Ya can’t keep hiding behind that shield of yours! Sooner or later, you need to be on the offense! Or else, I’m gonna getcha!” Ruggie taunted.

Jack huffed and shook himself from that stun of a blow. “Not gonna happen!” He growled before giving a mighty swing that had Ruggie backflipping away with a slight yip. 

You couldn’t help but to chuckle slightly at the two jabbing at one another as the two continued to clash. At the sound of your quiet laughter, a pair of lion ears perked up and you instantly felt someone’s eyes on you. Immediately, you glanced up to where usually the emperor would observe the colosseum fights. There, reclined in his own lounge chaise draped in the hides of his kills, was another one of your Wings.

Leona Kingscholar Gold Wing of the Night Ravens, Prince of the Dying Sun, Plague Bringer Level: 100 Classes: Monk, Blight Druid, High Tamer Jobs: Noble Race: Leonin Main Weapon: Ancient Baobab Staff

Leona’s sharp green eyes honed in on you before slowly he shifted upright. He moved like a great big cat, taking all his time in the world to fully wake himself before glancing down to the raging battle. Suddenly, a quick but powerful roar bellowed from deep within his chest that instantly had Ruggie and Jack stop in their tracks. Wordlessly, Leona gestured to you and the others followed his lead. When they saw you, the two quickly scampered to the edge of the training grounds.

“Guild Master, I didn’t realize you were here…! Please, excuse us. We were in the middle of training,” Jack said sheepishly.

“You should have said somethin’, Guild Master. If you were watching, then I really woulda gotten serious in that fight, shihihi!”

An offended look came over Jack as a light smile curled on your lips. As always, you take a moment to admire your lovely guild members. Jack looked quite dashing in his more casual get-up outside of his full armor. Atop his sleeveless shirt and trousers was a mix of leather armor and pieces of metal armor being on his shins, boots, and his entire right arm. Resting on his right shoulder was an intimidating pauldron shaped as a wolf’s head and along his arm was a silvery gauntlet that ended in wicked claws. On his left bare shoulder was a heavy strip of wolf hide, thick with icy white fur that lightly caressed his jaw line. Then of course were his wolf features being his tall pointed ears and swishing tail that denoted his lycanthrope heritage. 

Ruggie was more evident of his features compared to Jack. Where normal humanoid legs were supposed to be were instead agile hyena legs and a tail. Ruggie’s clothing slightly sagged on his lean and slender form. His shirt hung loose on him save for the leather belt that hugged his hips, dangling with all sorts of tools and baubles for his tricks. Wraps were half-hazardly wound along his forearms before coming to a stop at his fingerless gloves that accented his clawed hands. Finally, there was his oversized hood and cloak which probably has seen better days with how battered and frayed the edges were.

You felt a familiar presence approaching your character and you turned your view over to Leona who had decided to finally join you in a gust of hot air and sand. Leona didn’t have much to hide, proudly showing off his physique by being shirtless save for the ring of black fur he wore around his shoulders, coupled with a necklace of golden teeth. In a way, it almost looked like his own take on a lion’s mane. On his forearms, leather bracers were tightly bound as bangles of gold lightly jingled on his wrists. Around his waist, pelts, claws, and teeth of fantastical beasts hung alongside cloths of intricate tribal print. Similar to Ruggie, Leona had feral features in the shape of powerful, tawny brown lion legs and a tail.

“Guild Master,” he said with a slight rise of his brow, “you know I’m handling these cubs’ training. I didn’t ask for supervision, if that’s what you’re trynna pull.”

> [Refute]

Leona crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Then what are you doin’ here? You actually have a mission for us or what?”

> [No]

Leona sighed heavily. “See, I knew it. You’re hovering over us like an annoying buzzard. We’re fine, so go ahead and meddle with someone else.”

A grumble escaped you at the leonin's words, but you couldn’t be too mad at Leona. After all, this was a deeply integrated part of his personality and you allowed his programming to be haughty as much as he wanted to be. Other players probably would have edited his speech patterns or just shut him up altogether, but you kept him the way he was, wanting to see him fully shine through as a character. Nevertheless, you heeded Leona’s words and soon departed from the colosseum.

> [...]

 Leona watched as your form disappeared into the distance before he leapt back to his usual napping place. Jack’s ears lowered slightly after the Guild Master left, then turned to Ruggie. “Hey, why did Leona have to chase away the Guild Master? Is he even allowed to talk like that to them?”

Ruggie blinked and began to speak in a hushed tone. “No, no, you got it all wrong, that’s the tamest Leona is ever gonna be. Compared to how he talks to others, Leona with the Guild Master is like watching a kitten mewl up at their owner. Also, between you and me, Leona only ever wants the Guild Master ‘round if they’re serious in stayin’ around compared to just quick check-ins, y’know?”

Ruggie pulled back from Jack, a smirk on his lips. “In a way, I get him. You wished the Guild Master stuck around longer too, right?”

“I guess so… I mean, I wouldn’t say no to it,” Jack mumbled shyly.

“Oi.”

Ruggie and Jack jumped at the sharp voice that growled at them and slowly they turned to see Leona glancing over his shoulder in annoyance.

“If you have time to chatter like that, then you must have time for me to add 100 laps to your training regimen…”

“Ack, no, no! We’re focusing, we’re focusing, okay! C’mon Jack, let’s keep working on that endurance of yours!”

As the two scampered off, Leona would flop back down, and his eyes fluttered shut. He didn’t like staying awake without a purpose. The only time he only felt such a drive to be functioning was when his Guild Master called for him…