#his mouth is actually from his beak cracking in animal form

[apricot-the-apricat]

This was for a specific rp scene but yknow. Good opportunity to draw Zeph's scars. And he's still wearing pants btw-

I've never drawn someone shirtless like that before and I was dying of cringe the entire time help

[thegayestandalite]

Chapter 2

—————

Ripping through the forest was a menagerie of ridiculously out of place animals. Mostly out of place.

The animorphs, a group of shapeshifting children fighting an intergalactic war with space slugs and with who your very future rested squarely on.

They were on the run before their morphs could even finish, tearing through scratchy thickets and leaping over rotted logs. The smell of forest heaving into their nostrils and lungs.

Tobias was first, a child in the shape of a red tailed hawk, he spotted the craft in his own domain - the open sky.

Ax, another - smaller- andalite, was at the relay point so he could communicate with though speak* and update his comrades with what Tobias was telling him.

Another andalite, male, injured, airily unhappy and Apparently

Making enemies - and then befriending? A squirrel.

*An essential form of speaking when you have no mouth

———————————————

Along with his wounded arm, he was also nursing an injured upper torso and was willing to wager with the absolute fire of hell streaking through his legs he had managed to break a few bones as well.

[You are my only friend in the world, hopefully harmless tiny creature,] he intoned sadly.

This wasn’t Harbringer of Death, she left a while ago. This new curious cutie was Baby Killer.

[Squirrels don’t have friends,] Tobias answered, absolutely correct, [Only malice.]

The alien - the blue one- ‘s head snapped up and his stalk eyes swiveled around.

He took a measured moment.

[That’s good to know,] he said carefully. [Are you the…squirrel?] He watched the tiny animal nervously twinge back and forth. Squirrel certainly felt like a good jumble of iterations to identify the creature.

[No.]

A feathered, winged creature with a dull brown coloring flapped onto a closer branch.

Baby Killer was displeased and fled in a chattering of disapproving sounds. She’d have her day.

[I’m the bird,] the feathered thing added helpfully. The Alien Noted the cruelly shaped beak and wicked black talon on each toe. No wonder the squirrel felt uneasy.

[Hello, ] he responded back, cordially.

[Sooo,] the bird hopped on one foot and ruffled his feathers, [Noticed you crashed your ship there,] the pointy bird said conversationally. He tilted his head over towards the treacherously crashed ship.

[Yes, I see why you’d make that mistake, perfectly understandable, but in reality the ship there crashed itself, despite my loudest protests.]

[Uh huh. Yep. So…just wondering here if you could use any help for, you know, the injuries and the- the blood?] He noted the blue blood smeared and seeping through his blue furry fingers that clutched and obscured an obvious wound. It was planted over firmly on the basis that he wasn’t going to be any happier actually seeing it.

[Could be, could be, and who are you?]

A distinct silence.

[Ah.]

Anyone who didn’t want to reveal themselves while using andalite technology, was likely not in fact, an andalite.

The cracking of dry foliage and rustling of plants caught his attention, and what he saw, precisely was, a large creature, a larger creature, a larger larger creature and hells help him an even larger creature than that. All compiled with claws and teeth. Seems he stumbled into something here.

The second Larger creature, the one with stripes he noticed secondarily - stepped forward from the pack.

[Who are you, and what are you doing here,] He demanded.

He scoffed inwardly, this one had all he bravery of a knock kneed artish.

[Ah, you see, what I’m doing here and who I am is, hm None of your business.]

Stripe jerked his head back, startled.

They all seemed to be staring at him in confusion, not that he was any judge of these particular alien’s expressions.

The first, smallest creature, still about 3/4 of his size, stepped up and looked at Stripe. [Look, he’s injured, let’s just get him back and take a look at these injuries.]

Ah yes, Good officer, bad officer. The oldest play in the galaxy.

But his hearts creaked to a halt.

A final, very familiar creature came into view.

Aximili-esgarrouth-isthill.

The injured andalite stretched to full impressive length along the grass and fallen leaves, his tail looped nonchalantly and narrowed his eyes in a hooded gaze.

A prickle of cold swarmed down his shoulders and backs, his fur bristling along the way.

[ In actuality, your assistance is not needed here or anywhere,] he said Coolly.

Stripe gaped.

[ Dude, in case you haven’t noticed, what choice do you have? I’m willing to bet you can’t morph or you wouldn’t be hemorrhaging to death right now.] This was from the walking torso.

Bor’ij, the injured andalite, snapped his head and glared with the intensity of all four eye. Inner truth time, he had yet again, forgotten about morphing. He had gotten that ability a bit late in the game.

[What choice do I have? I have plenty of choices, I have so many fucking choices right now, Up to my tail in them, so kindly Fuck Off.]

A moment of shock.

A moment of private silence as the aliens conversed with each other.

He ignored them, opening his hand held telecommunication unit. He knew his cell wasn’t going to be very pleased about the crashing and..the injuries…he quickly typed out his message and hit send while very pointedly ignoring the band of..morph..creatures. Meatures? No, putting two words together to make a new one was stupid.

He fiddled with his device, signing into the encoded extra-military network, that had turned more social rather than utilitary

The creatures…crearphs? No…Had still not gone away. He scrolled down his screen, still keeping a wary but observant non-Chalant eye on them. Some stories on friends’ adventures, signs of depression and anxiety from this wearing war, pictures of interesting and terrifying flora and fauna, obligatory check ins so your friends still knew you were alive and his personal favorite - awful dishonorable lewd pictures that no decent andalite- he paused to press and save into his collection- would ever associate themselves with.

The large striped creature with entirely too much tooth in Bor’ij’s opinion, stood awkwardly unsure of what to do with this clearly injured alien that was actually dead set on ignoring them.

[Who are you waiting for?] He hazarded.

[Who are *you* waiting for,] he snapped back, [I’m waiting for somebody to mind their own damned business, start stepping off the other way. You have the ability, I believe in you.]

Just then, his communicator blipped. He took a look at his screen and smiled. Predictably his cell, his friends, where cursing him to pieces, haha. His hearts started to beat faster and he put on his best straight face he could to avoid looking like an idiot when he read how close they were. Well..how close he was..they….but also him.

*Just keep from dying before we get there*, they scolded.

[Ok,] Strippey said, [Ok. Everyone. Let’s go.] The earth aliens looked at each other uncertainly.

Bor’ij smiled to himself, they were a social animal, they looked to a leader for direction. Intel was so easy.

The smallest furry animal seemed to stare urgently at Strippey. He’ll call her..Legs. The one most dedicated to her altruistic instincts that a social animal needs to protect their group to survive, he made a note of it.

But the leader, Strippey, the metaphorical knock kneed foal, will win out, because he has a clever plan to Not Leave. Probably even sneak inside cruiser should he decide to stumble into it. The pain radiated from his side as he accidentally reminded himself off his injuries.

Bor’ij flipped his comm back on and preceded to ignore their existence . He barely registered their leave, but for the briefest ting in his hearts that Aximili had not even attempted to talk to him.

[ducknotinarow]

[87]

They're supposed to be quiet, on a stake out, watching out for the general lawbreakers. It's supposed to be easy, if not boring. But Casey had a one track mind and was ready to smash skulls, and the plan could be followed without an issue...

Until Raph began cracking jokes.

He'd love to blame the fact he was tired, or really anything, but he couldn't. Casey snickered at one of their damn puns, and though he was quick to cough it off, it gave Raph what he needed. Casey could feel the grin on his own face, hidden by his mask, watching as Raphael grew more animated as they just kept going.

And even Casey, stone faced as he is, couldn't hold back forever...so he started to laugh. Really laughed. Loud and hard and boisterous. He bent over, holding his stomach as he kept going, shaking his head as tears formed in his eyes. He couldn't remember the time someone got him to laugh so much!

"St-stop!" He manages to yell, "We're supposed to be hunting lawbreakers!"

It takes a moment, but Casey does calm. He stands up, having to pull up his mask, revealing his smile and reddened face, a hand wiping his tears away. Shaking his head again, he calms fully, but something soon settles in. Something he may never be able to voice. He's glad he puts his mask back down, before Raph can see that realisation,

"Since when did you become the 'funny one'?"

...And since when did Casey fall in love with them.

| Muse interaction

Eyes were fixed up on the dark sky over his head, staring out at stars that littered the city sky. Such a nice deep dark color, not that Raph was really admiring the sky over him. Once more he shifted around on his perch on top the monkey bars of the park he and Casey seemed to make their stake out spot pretty often actually? Sure maybe he should be on the ground or in a bush more hidden out of view. Like a ninja would do, but they had been out here for hours and haven't quite noticed anything going on. Police scanner seemed pretty quite as well that they had as the only noise to fill the quite between them. Raph just sighed and laid back over the bars drawing out the sigh he gave for all its worth, expelling all the air out from his lungs. Letting a arm fall over the side and idly left it to swing a little.

The night was a bust safe to say, it had been about three hours going on to four here soon and just nothing seemed to be happening. Hell Raph felt he and Casey were the only souls awake at all in the city said to never sleep. There was barely any cars out and about Raph had started keeping track of the ones that passed by, a whole total of three. Beak quirked a little shifting it left and right, eyes fixed up on the sky but he couldn't keep the restless feeling in him at bay for long. Soon moving to sit up at last

"Think I gotta get my eyes check," he remark suddenly and randomly "Seems my burglarzie. just ain't working tonight Case. I haven't seen a crook all night!" He slightly complains "I think the nights a bust, Heck I settle for a guy stealing a calendar!" he huffs a bit swinging his legs over to hang over the side of the bars. "think he get about 12 months for it but still." Theres a slight huff as Raph sets his hand down ready to jump off from where he been resting this whole time.

"Eh I think we should call it in Casey-" cut off a moment when he heard something. He knew what it was. It was a snicker, a small tiny little laugh. One you don't even know is about to slip out of your own mouth. Near snaps g his neck when he looked over towards Casey who was trying his best to cover that up with a obviously fake cough.

"uh, do my ear deceive me? Or is it possible that the Casey Jonas is actually able to get his funny bone tickled?" Raphael moves on to ask more teasing if anything really.

Casey seemed to stick to the quiet act, pretending nothing happened. Raphael just crinkled his snout at that. As if he was gonna play along and act like he didn't just hear what he knew he heard. Hadn't even phased him yet that Casey had laughed at his joke, but more he laughed at all. Hey, the nights a bust, but Raphael wasn't going home empty handed he decides moving to hang over the bags a bit as he started searching his mind a little. Oh, Raphael had plenty of amono to break out even at that. What with the hours spent watching all the comedy shows and late night talk shows he loved so much. Raphael also knew the basic rules of comedy, which was known as your audience.

You can tell jokes all you want, but not everyone's gonna like the same joke. Looking casey over a second, green eyes settled over their usual weapon of choice theri bat. Raph crossed his arms over his plastron. Casey was going to laugh, and Raphael was going to make it happen. They barely spoke but now he was curious and his interest was suddenly sparked back. Sure, not on the right thing, but what does that matter?

"I need a change of base, don't you?" He starts with eyeing the silent vigilante wanting them to know what he was up to. As he firmly sets his smirk thier way. "We could just hang out, I heart baseball players are great at hitting it off after all. No ones breaking any rules tonight only bunting it." Swinging his arms around to try and explain his joke just then.

He contuines on just eyeing Casey as he speaks on and on. Honestly, this was easy Raph could drop baseball puns all night. "How about a movie I tots bet you like Star Wars, cause the Umpire Strikes Back is clearly your favorite right?" He swears he sees them near about to break. As he mines out being a umpire. Hanf moving let he was setting the mask over his face and then puched his hand to shiw the glove. Lowering him self a bit where he sat to look more like on even.

"Glad ya don't play outfield or these baseball puns might go over your head." He says letting a hand fly over the top of his own head. "Maybe we should check the fields I hear there's a real issue switch players stealing bases. Sure itll be fine cause hit and runs are allowed in baseball at all if we smash their skulls in long as we aint in a car when we do." He contuies on moving around as he talked and cracked joke after jokes towards Casey. "Gotta feel sorry for them fellas though, even a lofe a crime ain't earn them no diamonds." He knows how dumb these are but that's kind of hid point and aim "eh pitches be crazy though am I right?"

He heard it. It was loud and boastiours rocked out of Casey slightly muffled by his mask but not for long if anything that made it more impressive how loud it came out. Raph looking down at Casey as he had to hold around himself, leaning forward as they seemed to have trouble standing from how hard he was letting the laugh work out of himself

"St-stop!"

Casey just about managed to say but it wasn't easy between his fit of laughter still working through him.

"We're supposed to be hunting lawbreakers!"

"Oh mine I didn't think ya could laugh at all!" Raphael simply remarks on having long stop caring about the lawbreakers they actually needed to deal with. Not that it seemed even the disruption of the night seemed to lure out thier ways. Hooking his leg around a bar before he dropped down to meet Casey as the lifted thier mask up likely needing air from how much they were busting a gut just then.

Any jokes or taunts he had ready to thrown away in that very moment as he settled his gaze over Casey's face. Red from lack of air and how hard they just had to laugh. Bright and wide amused grin over thoer face trying their best to keep serious, but clearly Casey was losing that battle. As Raph couldn't help but just soak it all in. The way their face colored over with bright color, how their lips cruved into such a smile, how they softly chuckled out still under their breath as they wiped tears dry from thoer eyes. To stunned at the feat or maybe something else he can't quite explain at that time as he watches Casey shake his head. Before they returned thier mask over thier face. Seeming to clam back down and ease into their usual tone.

"Since when did you become the 'funny one'?"

"You think I'm funny?" Raoh simply asks in return. Sure, he was always quick to give a joke or a sparky remark, but his brothers never claimed him to be funny. Actually, no one did they often got annoyed, and no one even got half his jokes or watched his favorite shows where most his jokes came from. Raph just smiles back at the usual white expressionless mask he knew Casey for, but all he could see what thier red face sporting the best smile in the world. "They don't call me a wise guy for nothin' ya know." Raph offered finally answering Caesy back. As he dropped down from the bars finally, landing on his feet. Good timing to he was feeling quite light headed at the moment. Though he kind feels it wasn't because of him hanging upside down just then. Before he turns back to casey slightly rubbing at the back of his neck as he stares at anything thing that wasn't Casey.

"Ya know you got a great laugh there." His eyes darted off to the side a moment as he moved to stand straight and tall "and don't think I aint gonna stop trying to make ya laugh since I know the big tough Casey Jonas is a sucker for a good one liner after all." He teases a little, trying to cover the sudden thought that crossed his mind then and there. Raphael found his favorite sound in the world thar night, and he planned on making Casey laugh again, forever, maybe even.

[cleanlenins]

Ectober Day 3: Cryptid

Food Chain

Danny has to finish his extra credit project on food chains. He didn't expect to actually learn something.

AO3

Warnings: Gore, Horror, Animal Death

Danny never cared much for biology. Sure, he was a science guy. He loved to talk about astrophysics. How stars were formed, how space shuttles worked, all about spaghettification (something had unfortunately experienced that one time in the GZ). He even enjoyed math, when he had the time to actually study it.

But biology? Maybe it was because his parents were constantly shouting about the horrible things they wanted to do to Phantom, but biology just...didn't seem as fun. So, he didn't pay as much attention as he probably should in class. Which he really should have realized was a bad idea.

Extra credit overnight camping trip. Ancients, why did Casper do things like this? This didn’t seem to happen at any other schools. But Mr. Linnaeus didn’t seem to care about normal types of extra credit. When they had done the section on binomial nomenclature, he had required students to learn Latin in order to properly classify the strange ghostly fauna and flora that had been popping up in Amity. Danny had gotten an easy A on that project, having already known Latin (dead language for a reason) and having known pretty much every ghostly plant that had appeared in his haunt.

However, now they were doing food chains and food webs and they were required to identify at least twenty chains: from producers to decomposers. And take pictures of it. Which of course sounded sooooo safe . They had been saddled with ancient cameras with a stern warning from the faculty not to break them. Half of them already seemed broken, much to the gathered students' consternation. He couldn’t see how any of this could ever be relevant to him, something most of his classmates thought as well.

Danny had only found about half of the required food chains. He trekked through the woods, alone. Sam and Tucker did not need the credit, and had no desire to do extra work. Danny picked up the pace. Twilight was quickly devolving into darkness, and he had no confidence that the camera would work in the dark. He didn’t want to have to rush to get every picture done tomorrow.

Danny paused when he heard a crow caw, feathers flapping through the air. The bird landed on a stump in front of him, a frog dangling from its beak. It’s feathers seemed to absorb what little sunlight remained, creating an inky void against the undergrowth. Danny ducked behind a bush and cautiously put the polaroid camera over his eye. He pressed down to take a picture. The camera clicked and a motorized whizzing spit the little strip of glossy paper from the front of the camera. Danny flapped the little picture back and forth, before glancing at it to see.

It wasn’t a good picture. He had gotten the bad luck to get a camera that’s flash was broken. You could barely make out the crow, which now seemed quite content to munch on the frog in its mouth.  Well, it hadn’t flown off. Maybe he could risk taking another picture. He pulled the camera up to his eye to try again. Right when he pressed the button, his ghost sense went off and a blur of light streaked in front of him. The camera spit out the paper and Danny looked up in alarm.

A glowing fox ghost was making a meal of the crow, ripping it to pieces and tearing through the abundance of feathers. It used it’s sharp teeth to crunch the crows bones, which loudly popped and cracked from the force. Streaks of blood dripped from it’s maw as it pulled the sinew from the dead bird’s body. Danny wrinkled his nose in disgust. Only in Amity would ghosts be considered a part of the natural food chain. He watched the ghost fox, slowly reaching for his thermos in his backpack. He didn’t want to spook it and then have to chase it through the woods. It might come across one of his classmates.

He had just touched the cap of the thermos, when he felt his body freeze up. His lungs stopped working mid breath, the air suddenly completely still and silent. The only sound was that of the fox devouring its meal. An inexplicable dread kept him stationary. Watching. For something. He didn’t know what. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and his core was shaking in a way that he had never felt before. Shuddering and quivering uncomfortably in his chest. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare blink. Just continued to watch the fox eat its meal. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw movement.

He almost mistook it for a branch, long and bending and obscured by the deepening shadow. Except the wind didn’t blow branches like that. Instead of a smooth swaying, the thing moved in a stuttering disjointed pattern. It bent at hard angles, like a doll’s joint. It raised higher and higher into the air, and Danny saw half a dozen other limbs mimic the same movement. At the end, Danny could make out a barbed point. He resisted a shudder. He wanted to run, to flee, but every instinct told him not to move. His core was vibrating so hard that he had to focus on not panicking. He worried he might lose control of his powers under the tension in the air. Sweat was beading down his brow.

All at once, the barbed limbs rushed down, impaling the ghost fox which screamed loud and high pitched. Ectoplasm splashed all on the ground as the ghost desperately clawed at the ground as it was dragged across the ground. It’s pitiful cries turned into wet and garbled moans as it left a green  trail in its wake. Danny heard clacking and chittering. A sickening schlorping sound echoed from the darkness and the terrified cries of the ghost fox were no more.

Danny waited. Still feeling the tension in the air. After what could have been an hour or a minute, the heavy pressure in the air eased then disappeared entirely. Danny took a gasping breath, and sat hard on the ground. He was shaking uncontrollably, and he wrapped his arms around himself to try and stop the unpleasant feeling of his core trying to jump out of his chest. He noticed what was in his hand. The picture he had taken. He inspected it closely.

The ghost fox was streaked across the frame, the crow already limp in it’s jaw. The light of the ghost’s aura made the picture much more clear than the one he had first taken.

Maybe...he should learn more about food chains.

[scathecraw]

BBRae Week 2021 - Day 1: Unconventional Kiss

Raven had been dancing around the issue for weeks now, and both she and Gar knew it. There had been a few near misses after a date gone well, a few breathless close calls during training, and one precipitous moment in the kitchen that fell apart when the smoke detector signaled their distraction.

They had been good dates. Very good dates, to be quite honest. Raven had expected that they would go nearly that well, and that had been why she had held off for so long. With all the emotional vulnerability and insightful talks and fantastic company and so many other things that came with dating someone you had been attracted to for years, she knew that the other shoe would drop, and she would have to just plunge in headfirst. And Gar had been patient – he wasn’t one to rush, especially with her. But he wanted it. And, god help her, she wanted it, too.

A perfect first kiss. The First Kiss, for both of them, hung up on each other for so long that they had never made any real attempts to find anyone else. Kori’s magazines had promised that the first kiss was always awkward and had to be refined by, hrm,repeated practice, but that was only a small part of the fear that gripped Raven when she thought of actually, really putting lips to lips.

It wasn’t Gar. She fully expected him to be just as bad as she was for a while (and likely longer given how quick she could pick things up). It wasn’t even what might… come after. Not as such. It was just… just… it was Important. Capital “I” Important – that things go well. Despite the promise of a bad first kiss by seemingly everyone who had ever kissed, it had to go right. Too wet or too dry, wrong head tilt, wrong duration, whatever – but she wanted to kiss him and do it over and over again and what if he didn’t want to or what if there was no chemistry or what if she sneezed or got so nervous she vomited or any number of things that would, according to all her latest nightmares, put him off wanting her the way she wanted him.

And he seemed so damn blithe about it. Like he couldn’t be less worried, even though she had felt his pulse race and could practically hear his internal monologue turning into a full blown soliloquy. He had that placid smile and those sparkling eyes and smelled like warmth and pine and it was so stupid how he wouldn’t just admit how nervous he was so they could be nervous together.

No, she had to be the mature one and feel all the butterflies for them both. She could practically hear his corny joke about never getting butterflies because he was vegetarian. Stupid Gar and stupid kissing.

It would happen. She would make it happen. And it wouldn’t be perfect, or probably even a very good kiss, but it would be right. Eventually.

____

There was an awful lot of noise and fleeing civilians for an evening out, even at the pier.

Nightwing sighed from atop his favorite ride at the boardwalk, the Ferris Wheel, as he retrieved his communicator and alerted the team. “Titans, we’ve got work to do. Something big is causing trouble at the east entrance. Star and I are on our way and will meet you there.” With that, he stood up in the precariously rocking carriage and Starfire lifted him by the arms, taking off in the direction of the disturbance. Cyborg, heretofore incognito on a date, immediately excused himself and waded through the crowds, shedding his holo-disguise. He was alerted to his passing teammates by a green blur, and called out to Raven as she passed, asking for a ride on one of her ink-black levitating discs. She obliged and they took off after Changeling’s racing avian form.

Gar was the fastest one to respond in these situations. Superhuman reactions and mobility got him to the trouble faster than any of his teammates, and he was proud of it. It meant that he was the first one to  engage the enemy, which was a dangerous gambit when he didn’t know what the enemy was, but someone had to be first on the line when every second was a danger to innocent people. In this case, it was more an annoyance than any real threat. Kitten was throwing a very public and destructive temper tantrum, as she tended to do within a few weeks of release/escape.

Her on-again, off-again boyfriend, Fang, was nearby and suffering the brunt of the auditory assault while a swarm of mutated grubs ate their way through stalls and prizes alike. Kitten was waving the control device as she gesticulated wildly, and the chance to end the whole debacle in one fell swoop was too tempting.

Without waiting for backup or giving away his presence, Changeling darted forward as a seagull, beak agape as he neared the remote. He had timed it perfectly, if not for Fang’s suddenly outstretched spiderleg. The blow sent him tumbling into a pile of cheap stuffed animals and he transformed back into himself. The arguing couple immediately turned their ire on him without ever stopping their argument.

“And now look what you’ve done! Your stupidity got this idiot involved! Why couldn’t you just win me a stupid teddy bear like a normal boyfriend?” Kitten raged as she hammered at the controller, causing the grubs to turn their attention towards the dazed and prone Changeling. Fang launched webbing at him, working at cross purposes as the grubs and giving Changeling just enough time to roll out of the way.

“This is not my fault. You know these games are rigged! Why would I give the money I stole to these scam artists?”

“Because you are supposed to! It’s what boyfriends do! They do stupid stuff because I want you TO!” Kitten screamed and threw her remote onto the ground where it cracked and fizzled. Instead of the expected de-metamorphosis from vicious gnawing grubs to harmless caterpillars, there was a rumbling from deep inside the snack stall and a mass exodus of larvae from the vicinity. Gar had just gotten to his feet when a much larger, toothier, and more armored wriggler burst from the shoddy wooden confines, writhing and shrieking even more shrilly than Kitten, and headed directly towards her and Fang in a headlong charge.

Apparently Kitten’s shouting was enough to distract both of them from their imminent death by squirming tank, and Changeling had to make a tough split-second decision – let them suffer the consequences of their own stupidity, or put himself in harm’s way to save them.

It wasn’t much of a choice. Leaping forward, he transformed into a rhino, a fast moving locomotive of heavy armor and muscle and slammed headfirst into the tank sized larva, diverting it and being whipped aside by the unexpected followthrough of the tail end of the grub.

Raven’s disk touched down just in time to see his head collide with a thick support post that held up the boardwalk, and the sounds of argument fell silent as Kitten and Fang wordlessly assessed the situation and fled. Cyborg called out “Get B. I’ll get the worm,” and launched after the creature.

Raven raced to Garfield’s side, seeing the heavy gash and road rash from sliding across the wood. She assessed him as quickly as possible, noting the broken ribs, bleeding, and, most concerning, the lack of breathing. She channeled her power, reaching her soulself into the unmoving shapeshifter on the ground, and urgently repaired his most vital injuries.

The head wound would wait, they always bled more and looked worse than they were. First the broken ribs, eased out and stabilized enough to hold for a little while. Then the badly punctured lung. As the trapped air was removed and the hole patched, she expected him to cough, sit up, and make a dumb joke. Instead he just lay there, silent. His pulse was fine, and there was no reason for him to be so still.

She did all the steps that the Titans’ first aid training laid out for her, making sure his airway was clear, no pressure preventing his breathing or hidden wounds that would cause more damage, then started mouth to mouth.

It only took a few breaths, as if his body had simply not realized for some seconds that he was able to breathe normally again, before the first unassisted rasps began. Raven let out a sob of relief, feeling like his breath resuming was directly connected to her own oxygen. She continued healing him, clearing his head of blood and strengthening the broken ribs before his eyes opened with a groan.

“Did ya get the license of that truck that hit me?” he said, weakly.

Raven nearly hit him. “That was by far the stupidest thing I have ever seen you do. What were you thinking, charging in like that?”

“Aww c’mon, Rae. I had ta’. And I’m sure you’ve seen me do stupider things.”

“None of them had you puncture a lung and stop breathing, you fool. You didn’t need emergency resuscitation when you tried to do a standing backflip.” A jolt of power zapped him with an icicle of cold to the chest, and he coughed.

“At least I stuck the landing this time, heh. I think I can sit up. Thanks for fixing me up, Doctor Rae.”

She glared, and kept glaring as Nightwing checked in. Fang and Kitten had been apprehended almost peacefully by him and Starfire, and Cyborg had incapacitated the grub easily. She reported the situation, not once taking her eyes off her idiot of a boyfriend.

He rolled to his feet, only a little gingerly, and retrieved the broken pieces of the remote control for Cyborg to repair and reverse the changes to the swarm.

As he stooped down to pick up the last pieces, he stopped, and a look of realization dawned on him.

“Wait, you gave me CPR? Like, mouth-to-mouth?”

“Of course. You weren’t breathing and you needed oxygen before any working brain cells died.”

“Y’know,” he said, sitting back down beside her, “I think that counts as our first kiss.”

Raven went still. It couldn’t. It wasn’t even a kiss, it was legitimate medical treatment. But then again, it wasn’t very good, it was at a weird angle, and there was even the terrible fear that she’d vomit out of worry. It checked all the boxes for the perfect terrible first kiss.

He interrupted her musing, “Too bad I don’t remember it. Maybe we could see if trying again might jog some memories.” He reached his arm across her shoulders, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh shut up,” she said, and pulled him in for a completely butterfly-free second first kiss.

AO3 FF.net

[fanimesenseiwrites]

Kidnapped to Hell (pt. 5)

When Satan walked back into the common room, Barbatos and Diavolo were back in there talking with Lucifer and Solomon.

Satan walked over to them, focusing on Solomon.

Solomon looked at Satan first, but the other three looked at him as well.

"Don't bother Hoshiko about their abduction again," Satan's tone was somewhere between concerned and threatening.

Solomon frowned. "Satan, we need-"

"No, you don't. At least not from Hoshiko. Whatever you need to know, Barbatos can figure it out for you," Satan insisted.

"A statement from Hoshiko themself would solidify a case against their captors," Lucifer interjected.

Satan glared at Lucifer. "Do not retraumatize Hoshiko any further," his voice was cold and commanding.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. "Is that a threat?"

"That depends on you."

Lucifer's eyes flashed red as a warning.

"Lucifer," Diavolo spoke soothingly.

Lucifer huffed but didn't look away from Satan.

Diavolo looked at Satan. "I'd like to ask Hoshiko for their cooperation, but if they deny me then I promise that we won't bother them anymore."

Satan huffed. "Fine. But they're sleeping right now so you'll have to wait."

Diavolo nodded. "That's fine, they deserve the rest."

Satan nodded and went to sit down.

Diavolo watched him sit down then looked at Solomon. "Lucifer, Barbatos, and I are leaving to go apprehend the demons who kidnapped Hoshiko and interrogate them. I would like you to stay here in case Hoshiko decides that they're ready to talk."

Solomon nodded. "I can do that."

"And make sure Hoshiko isn't left alone, at least not in the house. I'm sure they're fine alone in their room but not everyone can leave house all at once," Diavolo clarified.

"That's understandable, we don't know if Hoshiko is safe yet," Solomon mused.

"Exactly," Diavolo concurred. "Alright, we'll be leaving."

Solomon nodded.

Diavolo left with Lucifer and Barbatos following close behind him.

Solomon sighed and went and sat down next to Asmodeus.

"Are you alright?" Asmo asked him.

Solomon looked at him and smiled. "I'm fine."

Asmo narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. "Hm... if you say so."

"I do," Solomon insisted.

Asmo rubbed his thigh. "I think everything will be okay. Hoshiko is strong."

Solomon glanced at Asmo. "Of that I have no doubt."

"Then where are your doubts?" Asmo asked as he rest his chin on Solomon's shoulder.

"Not doubts, just concerns. I just wonder who would do this to Hoshiko; they haven't been practicing magic long enough to make enemies like that."

Asmo frowned. "Yeah..."

Solomon was quiet after that, afraid to say out loud what else was on his mind.

Then there was a sharp tapping against one of the windows.

Everyone looked toward the noise.

There was a crow sitting on just the other side of the window. It tapped the glass with its beak once again.

"Uh, Mammon? Is that one of yours?" Levi asked.

"Uh, yeah. I think so," Mammon replied as he stood up and walked over to the window. He unlatched the window and pushed it open. "Hey, what's up?"

The crow chittered excitedly.

"What?! Whaddya mean they're walkin' into the forest?!"

The crow squawked and flew off.

Mammon jumped out the window and ran off after the crow.

"Oi! Mammon!" Satan called before quickly following him through the window.

Everyone else got up to follow them, but opted to go out the back door instead.

When everyone else caught up to Mammon, they found him talking to three crows sitting on a branch just above eye level.

"How did three of ya lose one human?!"

One of the crows squawked and chittered.

"Mammon, what happened?" Solomon asked through heavy breathing.

Mammon looked at Solomon. "Hoshiko just walked out into the woods, all by themself! And these guys lost 'em because they got distracted by something shiny!"

Levi snickered. "That sounds familiar."

"This ain't funny! There's shit out here that could kill Hoshiko!" Mammon was really serious.

Levi was immediately worried once he was reminded of the dangers that lurked in the forest. "Well then... let's split up to look for them."

"Good idea," Beel complimented.

Mammon nodded and stuck his pinky fingers in his mouth then whistled loudly.

Four more crows appeared and landed on the branch with the other three.

"Alright, everyone take a crow with ya while ya search. They can follow ya from up above and help us keep in touch with each other."

Mammon's seemingly sudden competence was throwing everyone for a loop.

Mammon changed to his demon form. "I'll search from up high." With one swift flap of his wings, he was in the air.

One of the crows flew up to follow Mammon.

"... was that actually Mammon?" Belphie asked, actually serious.

"Right? That was kinda hot how he took charge like that," Asmo mused.

Satan smacked Asmo's arm before walking off to start searching for Hoshiko.

"Ow!" Asmo whined as he rubbed his arm then walked off with Solomon.

Belphie looked at Beel. "I think I know where Hoshiko is."

"You do?" Beel asked as he tilted his head curiously.

Belphie nodded. "Follow me." He headed off in a specific direction.

Beel and two crows followed him.

They soon came upon a meadow full of nightshade blossoms.

Sitting in the middle of the meadow was Hoshiko. They were wearing their RAD track suit and sitting with their knees pulled to their chest.

Beel told the crows to go tell everyone else that they had found Hoshiko while Belphie walked over to them.

"Hoshiko," Belphie spoke sweetly.

Hoshiko looked at him and smiled slightly. "Hey."

"You really like our spot, huh?" Belphie asked.

"Yeah, it's peaceful. Makes me wanna sleep," Hoshiko explained.

"That's not a bad idea," Belphie told them as he sat down next to them. "You know, everyone was looking for you."

Beel walked over and sat on the other side of Hoshiko.

"I haven't even been out here that long," Hoshiko said, a little confused.

"Yeah, Mammon's crows ratted you out," Belphie explained.

Hoshiko sighed. "I see."

Then Mammon flew down and landed right in front of the three of them. "Hoshiko!"

Hoshiko stood up. "Hey Mammon."

Beel and Belphie stood up as well.

Mammon hugged Hoshiko tightly then held them at arms length so he could look them in the eyes. "What're ya doin' out here?! You know there's dangerous shit out here!"

Hoshiko pulled away from him, startled and taken aback by him yelling at them. "I- I couldn't sleep so..."

The rest of the boys showed up at that point.

"So ya run off into the forest full of dangerous beasts all by yourself?! What if something had happened to you?!" Mammon was very animated with his lecture, continually using his hands to motion with.

Hoshiko looked down at the ground and tried really hard not to cry. "... It couldn't be any worse than what already happened to me."

Mammon's arms fell to his sides. He was at a loss for words and it seemed everyone else was too.

"I mean, I can't sleep 'cause as soon as I close my eyes I'm plagued by nightmares... it doesn't matter that I'm not in the eight circles anymore because they're still in my head."

Mammon reached for Hoshiko's hand.

Hoshiko took a step back and crossed their arms, preventing him from grabbing it.

Mammon looked at Hoshiko, a little shocked by their actions.

Hoshiko wouldn't look at him. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to be alone..."

"Why?" Mammon asked, his voice much more gentle this time. "Did we do somethin' wrong?"

Hoshiko couldn't hold back the tears anymore. "No... you just..." Their voice cracked. They wiped their eyes with the cuffs of their sleeves. "You guys wouldn't hurt me right?"

"Never," Beel declared immediately.

Hoshiko looked at him and nodded, tears still streaming down their face.

"Why do you even think you have to ask?" Mammon asked.

"Because..." Hoshiko sniffed, trying to regain enough composure to speak.

Satan walked over to Hoshiko and rubbed their back to try and offer them support, knowing full well what they were about to say.

Hoshiko took a deep breath. "When I was in the eight circles... it looked like to me... that it was y'all that were torturing me..."

The brothers were all stunned silent.

Mammon changed back to his human form and stepped close to Hoshiko. "I'd never hurt you."

Hoshiko looked up at him.

"I don't think I could live with myself if I did." There was a strange sort of sadness in Mammon's eyes that made Hoshiko want to cry some more.

Levi stepped forward. "You're the best in real life friend I've ever had. I'd have to be under some kind of mind control for hurting you to even cross my mind."

Hoshiko chuckled and wiped away the tears that fell.

Asmo walked over to Hoshiko and stroked their cheek. "How could I ever want to ruin a face or soul so beautiful?" He offered a sympathetic smile.

Hoshiko smiled slightly and nodded.

Beel gripped Hoshiko's shoulder.

Hoshiko looked at him.

"I only want to use my strength to protect you, never hurt you," he assured Hoshiko with intense eyes.

Hoshiko placed a hand over his and squeezed it.

"I was ready to fight Lord Diavolo over not protecting you, so I think you know how I feel about the subject," Belphie told Hoshiko.

Satan nodded in agreement.

Hoshiko chuckled but still kept crying.

"Why are ya crying? Don't ya believe us?" Mammon asked, worried.

"No, I do... just..." Hoshiko sniffed. "Y'all are the best family I've ever had."

Mammon immediately moved in to hug Hoshiko.

Hoshiko hugged back and gripped his jacket desperately.

"Let's go back to the house, yeah?" Mammon murmured sweetly.

Hoshiko pulled away and nodded.

Mammon started to lead the way back to the house.

Before Hoshiko could start to walk beside him, Solomon took up walking next to them.

"I'm sorry I was bothering you to talk about what happened to you earlier," Solomon promptly apologized.

Hoshiko looked at him. "I forgive you, and I'm sorry I got so hostile about it earlier."

"I see now why you did."

Hoshiko nodded and took Solomon's hand.

Solomon smiled slightly and laced their fingers together.

Asmo stepped in to walk on the other side of Hoshiko, taking their free hand in his.

Hoshiko looked at him.

Asmo leaned over to kiss their forehead.

Hoshiko smiled and leaned their head on Asmo's shoulder.

When they got back to the house, Solomon messaged Diavolo to update him about Hoshiko.

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

[cheemers-writing-archive]

A Hairy Situation

Request: Could we maybe get a scenario with the Stardust Crusaders if they were turned into animals?(like what animal they would be, and how they'd adapt to having to run around on 4 legs or fly with bird wings) If you're up to it, of course.

Requested by: anon

Enjoy!

Joseph was slowly waking up from his involuntary nap, groaning. Whatever had happened, he hoped it was nothing too crazy. Although, considering that the slumber was induced by a Stand, he dropped those hopes down by a lot. He put a hand on his head, as if he was having a headache. At least, he put a limb on his head. Definitely not a hand, or an arm, or a foot, or any human body part. Even stranger, the limb felt… soft. Soft and feathery. Actually, now that he was looking at it, it was feathery. There were literal feathers on his limb. Now that he realized it, his mouth felt weird, too. Gently stroking it, the mouth felt all too strange to be human. It was like a beak.

Wait a minute. The feathers, the beak, it was all adding up. Joseph looked down at his feet to see bird-like claws. Encasing his body were colorful feathers, the main color being red. He was a parrot!

Surveying his surroundings, Joseph saw that he wasn’t the only one. A wolf with mainly black fur, a red-furred monkey, a grey cat, and a brown owl had replaced the four others in the team.

“Finally, the old man’s awake,” the wolf, still with Jotaro’s voice, groaned.

“We can still talk?” Joseph asked.

“That seems to be the case,” the owl, in Avdol’s voice, answered. “Or maybe, since we’re all animals, we can understand each other but not human dialect.”

“It’s the latter,” Iggy sighed. “Now I have to deal with you talking in my language.”

“Iggy,” the monkey, Kakyoin, said, “did you see which way the Stand user went?”

“What do I look like, your teammate?” Iggy rolled his eyes, settling down for a nap in the sand. “Go find him yourselves.”

“He’s a stubborn mutt, even when we can talk to him,” Polnareff, the cat, grumbled.

“You better watch your mouth, Polpol,” Iggy retorted, “because dogs like chasing cats, and this dog can outrun any cat in the Bronx.” Iggy licked his lips and let his eyes have a predator-like glare.

“You’re… you’re just joking, right?” Polnareff nervously chuckled, slowly backing away, his back arching up.

“I don’t know,” Iggy shrugged, “am I?” Without warning, he jumped up from his spot and ran straight for Polnareff.

“He wasn’t joking!” Polnareff screamed. “He’s gonna kill me!” He started to run, but faceplanted into the ground since he didn’t have good footing with his new body.

While the poor cat was spitting out sand, Iggy rolled over in laughter. “You should’ve seen the look on your face! Priceless!” he cackled.

“Very funny,” Polnareff shook the sand out of his fur. “Can’t you go just twenty four hours without bullying me?”

“Look, can we just go after the Stand user now?” Jotaro asked impatiently. “Iggy scaring Polnareff was funny and all, but I want to walk on two legs again.”

“Jotaro’s got a point,” Kakyoin added. “I don’t like being a monkey.”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Joseph started flapping his wings, but only got a little traction before falling to the ground again. “Let’s all split up and look for this guy. We’ll cover a lot more ground that way. Plus, what else could he do to us? We’re already animals.”

“I agree with Mr. Joestar,” Avdol said. “Usually, we should stick in groups, but who knows what we’ll do to each other if we go feral?”

“Then it’s settled,” Joseph declared, trying out his wings again and succeeding this time. “I’ll take to the skies, and you guys split up in whatever way you need to.”

And with that, everyone went their separate ways, searching for the Stand user.

Jotaro was having some trouble on four legs. Not exactly that it was hard to balance on (although it was a little bit), but more that it was humiliating, with his rear end sticking out for everyone to see. It made him feel better that no other humans could see him, but considering all the amount of animals that didn’t belong in the desert, he assumed that he and the other crusaders weren’t the only people affected. That also boosted his confidence a little bit, because everyone was going through the same thing he was.

“Huh. Some poor guy got turned into a squirrel,” Jotaro said to himself. For some reason, the thought of a squirrel was sending his brain into autopilot, desperately trying to take over the front of his brain. He shook his head, knocking the canine instincts out of him. “That was weird,” he muttered. “Most likely it’ll happen again. This time I’m prepared for it, though.”

Kakyoin was having an okay time, the only problem being that he had no clue what to do with his tail. It would just spaz everywhere.

“Excuse me,” he asked a panda, “did you see a man pass by here? Probably strange-looking? And human?”

“I didn’t, sorry,” the panda answered. “Are you trying to stop him?”

“I’ll do everything in my power to,” Kakyoin promised. Then, strolling along, he started to notice something. Multiple animals were standing on two legs, and much taller than they should be. As he proceeded further, he noticed that he was doing the same, too. In fact, the longer he walked, the more human he looked, up until he was himself again.

“Strange,” Kakyoin muttered. “I must’ve reached the user’s range limit. So, the closer you get to him, the more animal-like you become. But all of us, we were nowhere close to him, yet we were fully animal. That can only mean, the closer you get to the user, the more animal-like you become, first physically, then… mentally!”

Kakyoin dashed back into the Stand’s radius, not caring if he turned back into a monkey. He had to warn his friends!

Joseph has finally gotten the hang of flying, which was a relief. He was scanning the area, but no Stand user was in sight. In fact, the only thing he noticed as he was going further and further down the streets was that there were no people. Anywhere. That, and the animals that lined the streets seemed to be getting more and more feral. The farther he traveled, the more he could feel his brain acting up, meaning he had to be going in the right direction. Now that he thought about it, he wondered how far he could fly up before he turned human again? No, that was a bad idea. If he lost control mid-flight, it would be a deadly landing.

Wait, what was that just now? Joseph could have sworn it was a human. And if there was only one human, then that must be their Stand user! Quickly diving down, he opened up his beak to try and bite the enemy. However, as he dove down, his brain started acting weird. He no longer wanted to attack this man, this huge, menacing creature that could take him out in one hit. Instinct took over, and he turned the other way to fly back to safety. But before he had the chance to do that, a hand wrapped around his body and threw him in a cage.

“Poor, dumb bird,” the man laughed as Joseph thrashed about in his cage. “Didn’t think about the fact that your animal instincts would change as you got closer to me? It’s too late now, though. I’ve got you, Polnareff, Jotaro, Kakyoin, and Avdol. Now all that’s left is-”

“Iggy?”

The man turned to the black and white dog, standing in a defensive stance.

“You can’t animalize someone who was already a dog,” Iggy smirked. He had the sand around him form into The Fool, but the enemy only laughed.

“You’re forgetting something,” he said. “Your friends are currently feral. They don’t have their human intelligence. And they’ll attack anyone and anything that threatens them. You, Iggy, could likely be seen as a threat.”

Iggy scoffed. “You think I care about them? I was forced to be on this journey against my own will! I just want to fix everyone else so they don’t try to attack me and waste my time.”

“Good luck with that,” the man chuckled. He cracked open the cages of the crusaders, and they all charged straight at Iggy. The tiny dog rolled his eyes, and had The Fool attack.

Something that Iggy had learned today: just because someone turns into an animal doesn’t mean that their Stand will go away. He was completely unprepared for Jotaro’s Star Platinum, which punched Iggy right in the face.

“Small one in my territory,” Jotaro growled. “Must kill!”

“What kind of an enemy are you if you talk like that?” Iggy asked. Of course, he didn’t get an answer, just some angry oras. Iggy put up a defensive wall of sand, but Star Platinum was getting uncomfortably close to breaking through it. While the barrier was still up, Iggy ran to hide under The Fool, in hopes of fending them off for a while. However, he wasn’t prepared for Joseph to fly under the belly of the Stand, reaching out with Hermit Purple.

“Predator spotted,” Joseph cawed. “Will scare away!”

Iggy thankfully dodged just in time. He could sense another animal sneaking up on him from behind.

“This time I scare the dog!” Polnareff cackled. Iggy whipped his head around, giving Polnareff a deadly glare, with a growl to match it.

“Nevermind!” Polnareff said as he ran away.

As Iggy was chuckling to himself, he was almost burned by Magician’s Red.

“Hey!” he shouted. “I need these legs!”

“Then I guess it would be okay for me to attack the rest of your body,” Kakyoin replied. Iggy blocked the emeralds barraging toward him with sand with ease.

“You can talk?” he asked.

“Apparently so,” Kakyoin replied. “It seems to me that I have a more fluent language than the rest of these guys.”

“So that means you don’t want to kill me, right?” Iggy chuckled nervously.

“Are you kidding me?” Kakyoin laughed. “My one goal in life is to kill you!”

Iggy sighed. “Well, if you guys are too far gone, I guess there’s nothing left for me to do except fight back.”

Of course, fighting back was easier said than done. Even though Iggy had scared Polnareff, the cat was still attacking The Fool with his Silver Chariot, as was everyone else. Iggy would attack, but it took insane concentration for him to just be able to block all of the attacks coming his way. If he attacked, that mental energy would go to offense and not defense, which wouldn’t normally be a problem, except that five feral animals with Stands had surrounded him.

“Give up, Iggy!” the enemy laughed. “You’re surrounded!”

“No, thanks,” Iggy smirked. “The one thing I hate more than this group of idiots is stuck-up people like you, thinking they rule the world.”

While Iggy was preoccupied talking to the enemy, Jotaro snuck up and sunk his teeth into the little dog. His heart was pierced through, ribcage shattered, and lungs destroyed, so much so that he started coughing up sand.

Sand?

“Little one no taste good,” Jotaro said as he spat out small grains. Iggy, laying on the ground, started to become discolored, and his dead body disintegrated before becoming a pile of the dry desert soil.

“What?” the enemy cried out. “Wh… h… what happened to Iggy?”

“I’m right here,” Iggy, who was now right behind the enemy, said. “You didn’t notice that Iggy was a fake decoy?”

“Why, you…”

“Now, it’s time for me to listen to my animalistic instincts,” Iggy laughed. “Say goodbye to your hairline!”

While the enemy was busy trying to pry Iggy off of his head (to no avail), the rest of the crusaders slowly morphed back into their human form.

“See?” Joseph said. “Iggy would come in handy one day!”

“I still have sand in my mouth,” Jotaro griped.

“But at least you’re not a wolf anymore,” Kakyoin replied.

“And I’m not a cat, anymore, either,” Polnareff sighed. “Thank goodness. Iggy almost killed me twice.”

After Iggy left the enemy passed out and completely bald, he looked back at Polnareff, with a dangerous glint in his eye. Polnareff took that as an invitation to a head start to getting away from the dog and bolted away, screaming.

“Looks like some things never change, no matter what species you are,” Avdol chuckled. “Come on, we need to get back and rest. It’s been a tough day.”

“Guys! Help! Help me!” Polnareff shouted. Everyone looked over, and burst out in laughter.

“Now we just need to find Dio’s mansion,” Jotaro said.

[visualreverence]

A World of Dinosauroids

C. M. Kosemen with Simon Roy

My post on Simon Roy’s “Dinosauroids” is one of the most reblogged things on this blog. I love the concept because it rewrites the cosmic tragedy of the K-T Mass Extinction Event, resurrecting dinosaurs and projecting their continued evolution in ancient world that is alien but also eerily resonant. Recently Simon turned me onto The-Master-Post-on-All-Things-Dinosauroid on his long-time collaborator, C. M. Kosemen’s, site. The following post has been transcribed from C. M. Kosemen’s blog and formatted for Tumblr with @simon-roy​‘s blessing.

There are two highly-popular, vexing questions about dinosaurs: What would the world look like if these strange and majestic animals had not gone extinct? And, would they ever evolve into intelligent species comparable to humans? In 1982, palaeontologist Dale Russell, after observing “… a general trend toward larger relative brain size in terrestrial vertebrates through geologic time, and the energetic efficiency of an upright posture in slow-moving, bipedal animals”, postulated the Dinosauroid, a humanoid, erect-gaited sophont which may have evolved from Troodon-like dinosaurs had the end-Cretaceous extinction not occurred.

This question occupied the minds of yours truly (seen here on the right), and world-building comic genius Simon Roy (on the left), as well. We were unconvinced by Russell’s Dinosauroid. We thought  that an erect, humanoid sophont was too prejudiced towards humans to be realistic. We were instead inspired by zoologist Darren Naish’s writings on the evolution of intelligent, bird-like dinosaurs: “No, post-Cretaceous maniraptorans wouldn’t end up looking like scaly tridactyl plantigrade humanoids with erect tailless bodies. They would be decked out with feathers and brightly coloured skin ornaments; have nice normal horizontal bodies and digitigrade feet; long, hard, powerful jaws; stride around on the savannah kicking the shit out of little mammals; and in the evenings they would stand together in the trees, booming out a duet of du du du-du, a deep noise that would reverberate for miles around…”

Towards the end of the ‘00s, Simon Roy and I independently began to develop our concepts for bird-like intelligent dinosaurs. Inspired by the ravens he saw around his Canadian home, Simon drew the corvid-like dinosauroids seen above.

I, in turn, was inspired by ground hornbills, parrots, certain dinosaurs and corvids, and came up with the speculative organism seen above. I named it Avisapiens saurotheos.       Simon and I soon got in touch with each other; and started developing a world and a storyline for our dinosauroids. Our collaborative efforts continued, on-and-off, until the mid-2010s. Our aim was to develop the Dinosauroids story into an illustrated story-book, which we naively hoped to sell to a major sci-fi publisher. But we soon realised that we enjoyed world-building  more than writing a story, or putting  a book together. We kept bouncing concepts back and forth, but never had a chance to publish them, until now. Most of the body of work you see on this page was drawn by Simon, based on ideas we created together. I also contributed some of the “cave drawings” and certain creature illustrations. This is the first time the totality of our Dinosauroids-universe works has been displayed online.

Simon and I refined the design of my original Avisapiens dinosauroid…

And created a few more sentient races to accompany them. There was one more, slightly-crow-like species of Avisapiens (a continuation of Simon’s corvid dinosauroids - Avisapiens tataricus). These two species were joined by a variety of “forest giants” (Gigantosapiens borealis), and a race of pygmies (Avisapiens minimus).

Simon’s refined studies of corvid-like, and pygmy dinosauroids.

We also designed an extensive selection of animals around our dinosauroids. We predicted that even without the K/T mass extinction, dinosaurs and other animals would have kept on evolving, and many “familiar” groups of dinosaurs would have gone extinct. We thus designed a world where the majority of surviving dinosaurs were the descendants of “maniraptoran” groups; birds, deinonychosaur (“raptor”) dinosaurs, troodonts, oviraptors and therizinosaurs. Here, you can see two boreal dinosauroids using mouth-spears to hunt herbivorous troodont quarry.

We also did not want this world to be devoid of mammals. Even during the age of dinosaurs, certain mammals evolved  into large and sophisticated forms. We envisioned a world where parallel groups of mammals, similar to, but phylogenetically distinct from today’s forms, co-evolved alongside the dinosaurs during their continued reign. The scene above shows an Eurasian water-hole crowded with two species of ornithomimid herbivores (Rugocursor, left-centre; and Cyanogularia, far right); alongside robust (Afrotuberculocamelus) and gracile (Odontocervoides) species of herbivorous mammals which, for the lack of a better term, we decided to name “supermaras”.

A series of studies showing the evolution of supermaras from rodent-like multituberculate mammals. The species depicted here is Ceratomegamys.

The full diversity of cursorial “supermaras”, from left to right: The burly, tusked Odontobovis; the superficially-camel-like Tuberculocamelus; the gazelle-like Odontocervoides; the trunked, moose-like Pseudalces; and the two related forms - the big, desert-dwelling Macropseudalces; and one of the many deer-like Cervopseudalces species.

Studies of Megatapirus, large, superficially-elephant-like mammals that live in far-northern climates.

We also derived a variety of mammalian carnivores, mostly from marsupial stock. Through the honing forces of evolution, we imagined some would look very similar to the canid predators we have in the present day - the actual difference would only be in their internal and reproductive anatomies. Above, clockwise: The large, badger-like Mephitursoides; the extremely dog-like Pseudokynos; the hyena-like Krokutadasyurus.

Some marsupial predators diverged  from the mammalian body-plan, and evolved into forms roughly converging with the predatory dinosaurs. The raptorial, meat-eating kangaroo-equivalent Theropodoktonos and kin are potent predators in South America.

Two more divergent marsupials: The leopard/possum Phobodidelphyoides; and the monkey-like Marsupiolemuris, a social, arboreal form with a potential to evolve intelligence.

We also wanted to have flying reptiles - pterosaurs - still alive and kicking in our world. These extraordinary animals were already in decline by the time dinosaurs became extinct. So we relegated them to only a few roles, comparable to storks and other large water-birds alive today. Above is a flock of Diluvipterus; large, filter-feeding pterosaurs. Also note the solitary duck flying on the upper-left corner.

Another, flightless pterosaur, Cygnotherium, from the islands that now make up New Zealand.

A more unusual group are the avisuchians, descendants of maniraptoran dinosaurs that  secondarily converged on the aquatic bodyplans of spinosaurs (which are now extinct in this timeline). Most resembled the short-tailed forms, Pisciraptor and Brachyornithoides seen above. These goose-to-dog-sized animals inhabit rivers and lakes, and occupied a niche comparable to otters today.

There were also long-tailed Avisuchians such as the Natatoraptor seen above. These animals inhabit open waters, and nested in estuaries and beaches.

A contemporary scene from Eurasia shows  commensal life between mammals and dinosaurs. Two Pseudalces browse peacefully alongside two kinds of large ornithominids, Archganseria and Brontonyx. A tiny, heron-like troodont, Anatolocursor, can be seen between them, looking for small animals flushed out by the large herbivores’ movements.

Nevertheless, despite co-existing with large mammals, dinosaurs are more diverse on this world. Herbivorous dinosaurs, such as these derived ornithomimids, constitute a large part of dinosaurian diversity. Above left are studies of Ganseria, a common, medium-sized browser. Above right, clockwise from the top right, are portraits of Ukkuloganser, another medium-sized browser; Nyctodromon, a nocturnal digger; Adzuganser, a small omnivore; and Pyramidoganser, a crested form native to the Nile Delta.

A scaled study of Brontonyx, a heavyweight ornithomimid herbivore.

Portraits of many  cursorial dinosaurs from across Eurasia: 1- Leptoganseria, a mountain-dwelling ornithomimid browser found on the mountains of what is now the Caucaus. 2- Ikiridectes, a troodont that mostly hunts small digging mammals. 3- Aktardektes, a small ornithomimid that has specialised for cracking  hard-shelled nuts. 4- The gracile, juvenile variant of Brontonyx, (6) which occupies a completely-different ecological niche as a generalist omnivore. 5- Rugocursor, a widespread, broad-beaked ornithomimid with many species, common across North Africa and Eurasia. 6- The adult form of Brontonyx, a gigantic ornithomimid that feeds on trees, and defends itself with heavy claws. 7-    A vulture-like Cynornithoides, an extremely bird-like troodont, a frequent commensal of Avisapiens and related intelligent species. 

A variety of Rugocursor, a mostly-herbivorous ornithomimid with adaptations for running.

Various troodonts, small-bodied, sometimes very bird-like omnivorous dinosaurs, distantly related to the Avisapiens lineage. Left, shaded study of Variocursor, a common, heron-sized, striding predator on small animals. Right, from top to bottom; Vuuria, a herbivorous form common across Eurasia; Boreocursor, a cold-climate predator, related to the Variocursor seen on the left; and Paravuuria, an omnivorous form.

The last descendants of hadrosaurs, the famous “duck-billed dinosaurs”, still roam  in South America. The hoofed, sheep-sized Ornimastax seen above left, is a typical example. Australia, as in our world, is home to an unusual radiation of forms whose relations to animals on other continents are not very clear. Brachygullagong, seen above right, is a troodont-like form whose duck-like skull and batteries of grinding cheek teeth have secondarily converged with those of the hadrosaurs.

The largest herbivores on this world are long-necked, scythe-clawed ornithomimid relatives known as avititans. The largest species on Eurasia is Avititan bicolor, seen above in scale with a human figure.

Avititans owe their ecological success to their strong social structures and their care of their young. Here are two Eurasian avititans with their offspring. Yellow-tailed enantiornithine tick-birds, Parasitophagus leucurus, can be seen on their backs.

Oviraptoriformes made up another important clade of dinosaurs in this world.

Descended from bird-like ancestors, various clades of these animals live on as important omnivores, scavengers and even predators in many ecological niches. Above is Eblisornis, a common species found throughout Eurasia.

The bull-bird, Bosornithoides erythrops, is the largest and most prominent oviraptoriform on the Eurasian continent. It subsists mostly on plants and fruit, but will eat carrion if given the chance.

Hunting the wary and dangerous Bosornithoides is an important rite of passage for dinosauroids. The animals require coordination and group-work to bring down, and hunting one is a bonding experience for batches of young-adult nestmates. This ritual not only cements the dinosauroids’ social standing in their tribe, but also bonds the hunters together for the rest of their lives. The four hunters-to-be in this picture are accompanied by a couple of jackal-birds (Cynornithoides), domesticated pets that are almost as smart as the dinosauroids themselves.

Many dinosaurs dabble in carnivory, but the main predatory niches on this version of Earth, are occupied by a diverse radiation of paradromaeosaurs, descendants of the famous “raptor” dinosaurs and kin. Paradromaeosaurs have diverged considerably from their ancestors. One lineage, known as the rhynchovenators, replaced their teeth with sharp, raptorial beaks.

The male and female of the common boreal rhynchovenator, Rhynchovulpes agilis.

A lean-legged Egyptian rhynchovenator, Rhnychovulpes aegypticus, atop a dead multituberculate mammal. The key to rhnychovenators’ success is their added tenacity and stamina. Even a small rhynchovenator can overcome comparatively large prey by continually harassing and chasing it into exhaustion.

The bald-headed Osteophaganax regalis is a common scavenger encountered across the Caucaus Mountains. Its males develop striking, black-and-purple wattles on their faces during spring.

Two more derived troodonts. Left, a tree-dwelling arbosaur, Toucanops dixoni, from one of the diverse and little-understood clades found across the South American continent. Right, the lean, narrow-beaked Halophagus sp. from fossil deposits in what is now China. This group evolved specialisations for marine diving and probably saltwater drinking, before becoming extinct during the Miocene.

The dominant guild of maniraptoran predators, the tyrannoraptors, evolved from “regular” dromaeosaurs with powerful, biting jaws. Some species living today, such as the Savannahdromeus shown above, are still very similar to the earliest forms. Despite its small size, the smart and social Savannahdromeus are apex predators thanks to their pack-hunting behaviour.

Another basal tyrannoraptor, Pantherdromeus - is a solitary hunter that is common across much of Eurasia. It probably represents a diverse and subtly-variable species complex.

Solitary, basal tyrannoraptors eventually gave rise to the terrifying main-line tyrannoraptors in the last twenty-million years. The evolution of these animals was marked by the reduction of their wings and the enlargement of their legs, and jaws. Their tails developed into stiff and rod-like balancing organs. In some respects, they were the evolutionary echoes of the big-jawed, running tyrannosaurs, which had become extinct earlier on, during this world’s version of the Eocene period. Unlike tyrannosaurs, however, tyrannoraptors had well-developed social behaviours and intelligence; which, when coupled with their fast speed and terrific jaws, turned them into formidable apex predators. Above are the adolescent and mature forms of Metadromodaemon phobetor, a mid-sized hunter found in the Middle East and North Africa.

A scaled drawing of Wotandromeus bicolor, the terrifying, large-headed hunter of European forests.

The seven-metre-long Melanorodromeus euceratus - also known by the Dinosauroids as “black thing” - is the largest predator on mainland Eurasia; but even larger forms are reputed to exist in Siberia and North America.

Let us now return to the Dinosauroids, their culture, and art. Above is a brief study illustrating the divergence of the two species of Avisapiens; A. saurotheos and A. tataricus, from ancestral eu-troodontid stock.

Especially A. tataricus shows considerable variation in beak shape, length and colouration. Above, right are the colouration of the Eurasian (top right, bluish-black), and Northeast Siberian (above right, yellowish-brown) races. Above, left shows a spectrum of variation in A. tataricus beaks. The cross-beaked and long, curved beaks occasionally crop up in certain bloodlines, which also have augmented song-memories. These individuals are revered as shamans in certain A. tataricus tribes; or are immediately killed-off as harbingers of doom in others.

Above, the extensive variation in the head shapes, beak lengths and crests of various races in A. saurotheos. The bottom-right sketch depicts a hybrid individual between A. saurotheos and A. tataricus.

A powerful hunter of A. tataricus, from the Carpathian Mountains, showing a stone axe and bent spear that are characteristically used by this particular tribe.

An artist/shaman of one of the settled A. saurotheos tribes living around the Balkans. He paints on animal skins stretched taut across circular frames, and paints using ground-up soil and other pigments, wielding a brush made from a wing-feather. The skin canvas also double as drums.

Art is one sure-fire way of identifying an intelligent species. This skin-painting shows a spear-hunter and prey, a painting by the aforementioned shaman.

Painting of a god or hero-figure with red tail feathers.

Painting of two shamans divining the future from the entrails of a dead flying animal.

Painting of a hatchling being trained by a village elder.

Studies of an A. saurotheos wanderer with a travel harness; and a duo of A. tataricus migrants with a domesticated bull-bird, a relative of the oviraptoriform Bosornithoides mentioned above.

The view from an Avisapiens saurotheos village, showing the species’ characteristic nest-houses, and a pair of semidomesticated Cynornithoides jackal-birds playing in the village square. Note the heads mounted on tall poles, a sign of reverence to the spirits of the departed.

Detail of a brooding nest constructed by Avisapiens tataricus. Most tribes of these species are migrants that range across Eurasia, few build permanent structures.

Sketch of an A. tataricus wearing a travois-like travel harness.

Study of an A. saurotheos wanderer with travel gear.

A detailed study of the burly A. tataricus native to the Caucaus Mountains, complete with weapons, travel gear and ornamental cape.

Sketches of war-like A. tataricus tribes native to the Eastern Mediterranean region. These tribes are known for their ferocious (if impractical) war-masks.

Studies of two different  warriors from two different Avisapiens tataricus societies.

A resplendent A. tataricus warrior from the Levant, wearing an ornate head-dress of feathers, and an obsidian-studded war-mask.

Studies for Avisapiens spear-throwers and wooden-slat armour; from a comparatively advanced period on this species’ societal development.

An A. saurotheos shaman entertains hatchlings with fireside tales of spirits and other worlds.

A band of slave-keeping A. tataricus warriors during a raid to an A. saurotheos village. A young shaman is captured and de-clawed.

Simon Roy and I also  dwelled on the far-future evolution of dinosauroid technology. The sketches above of a “knight”, moon lander and an astronaut were produced, but we did not pursue these scenarios seriously.

Let us conclude our visit to the dinosauroid tangent-universe with one last look at our artist/shaman, his village, and his paintings. Somewhere in deep time, they are still alive, and still waiting to tell us of their adventures.

A painting of an avititan family.

A painting of the dangerous, predatory “black thing”.

A painting showing numerous animals at a watering hole.

A painting showing an A. tataricus warrior.

Stylised paintings of spear-wielding Carpathian warriors.

Painting of a ferocious Aegean headhunter.

A stylised painting showing an immature dinosauroid.

Stylised painting of a warrior confronting a spirit-creature.

Stylised painting of a powerful Caucausian mountain warrior.

Painting showing a ghoul-like oviraptoriform animal.

Painting of one of the sky-gods worshipped by A. saurotheos.

A complex painting showing four A. tataricus warriors hunting a bull Bosornithoides.

Simon Roy and I may return to the dinosauroids universe one day with a real story; but truth be told we enjoyed world-building far more than inventing stories and characters.

- 2008 - 10/2019.

[doctors-star]

writing challenge prompt: apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter. (Pairing Peter/Alex/Ruth if you fancy it)

prompt list

apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter

The farmyard looks like it’s on fire. Great coiling, curling masses of steam are rising off it and ascending heavenward, for all the world as if a large dragon had set up shop beneath the chickens’ feet and is now puffing away to itself. The steam is solid silver and grey in the midmorning light, swirling on invisible thermals like Degas’ ballerinas, and edged with sunlight that is altogether too bright to look at.

He is looking anyway.

His eyes are scrunched up with an intensity usually reserved for awkward texts and inscrutable hill forts, brow furrowed and creased over heavy, dark brows. He’s got one hand on his hip, the other wrapped thoughtfully around his chin; his feet are planted squarely in boots coated in solid, cloying mud. He looks immovable as an oak tree, there in the farmyard. The world around them could end, he thinks, and Peter would still be standing.

Peter shifts, hand moving from chin to forehead to form a slight shield against the vivid wall of brightness. His sleeves are rolled up and it is possible to watch his muscles shift under his skin, as has been impossible for the past few weeks of seemingly endless rain. It has been cold and wet and miserable for all of January, feels like, and the dawn of February has not given them much cause for hope; but now, the rain has stopped, the clouds cleared, the mercury in the thermometer made the effort and risen above five degrees, and Peter has his jacket off and sleeves rolled back right away, as if this is the only sunshine he expects this year and he had better appreciate it.

In fairness, it is Britain. Stranger things have happened.

And anyway, Alex can understand the idea. He is, after all, watching Peter as though the man might disappear; as if this is his only opportunity to lean propped up on the cart in the sunlight and see him, sleeves pushed back and squinting and lit up by light and steam. How very long the winter has seemed.

Alex leans back a little and folds his arms, glaring into the east a little more himself, to look the same way as Peter. Ruth - of course, of course they are watching Ruth - is talking with great animation to their flock of chickens, hands on her hips as she chides them. They keep ducking about around her feet rather indignantly, dipping their heads with their strange stop-motion movements to tap their beaks unenthusiastically against the frozen ground as if to say why aren’t you feeding us? we cannot possibly be expected to feed ourselves in this weather! And Ruth is laughing at them, with the sun behind her head and behind the trees so that the rays are oddly defined; segmented spikes, like a great art deco sunburst. 

“I will not feed you,” she is telling the birds with stern amusement. “You do not need it. It is a glorious day, at last, and you can go and enjoy it. And eat all the other things who are out enjoying it, too. It’ll be good for you. Lazy sods.” One of the chickens, the buff-coloured, famously bad-tempered one, darts forward and then struts nonchalantly away towards the pig sty. Ruth sputters an indignant laugh, jaw dropped in surprise. “Did you just peck my shoe?” she cries after the retreating bird, who puts on a burst of speed. “The audacity!”

Alex can feel the grin that’s lodged on his face; Peter, face still screwed up against the light, snorts inelegantly and she looks his way and beams. “Are you no longer a chicken authority?” he asks her very solemnly and sympathetically.

“My shoe has been pecked!” she informs him, rather redundantly, but it makes them both grin all the same. “They’ve lost all respect for me.” She watches the other chickens follow the vicious ringleader towards the patch of grass by the pigs where they peck morosely at the grass and dirt as if they don’t expect to find anything and reckon they’ll have starved by lunchtime. The various worms and insects which have ventured to the surface to enjoy the rare sunlight and which are now being snapped up by the sharp, aggressive movements of the chickens appear to do little to make them feel better.

“Get free-range chickens, they said,” Peter sighs, not unhappily. “It’ll be so rewarding to watch them hunt for themselves, they said.”

Ruth turns back to him, hand dropping from over her eyes, to laugh. Then she tilts her head on one side, offering him a lop-sided smile. “Are you alright?” she says. “I’m sure the camera crew would lend you some sunglasses until we film, if we haven’t got any thirties specs - face all screwed up, you look like a gargoyle.”

“I’m feeling great, thanks,” Peter says, voice all level and dry to make her laugh. “Really complimented and supported too. Have we actually got any proper shades, though? Alex’ll love them - he likes pretending he’s in Top Gun.”

“I do not,” Alex protests automatically and without a great deal of conviction.

Peter and Ruth turn to the sound of his voice, faces open with pleasure and slight surprise. “Oh, hello lurker,” Peter says cheerfully. “Was wondering where you’d got to.”

“I do not pretend I’m Tom Cruise,” Alex tells Ruth firmly, ignoring the lurker comment. She raises her eyebrows, one finger pressing against her mouth in futile prevention of a smile, and waits with interest for him to elaborate. “That - that bloke in The Mummy,” he finds himself saying, snapping his fingers as the name escapes him. “He’s got to wear sunglasses at some point, hasn’t he? I’ll be him.”

“Who, John Hannah?” Peter says, chirpy and obtuse with a grin from ear to ear and his hand cupped around his eye to shade against the February sun. Alex sends him a mock-withering glare and his smile somehow widens; Ruth laughs, bright and affectionately evil. “You do kind of look like John Hannah, you know,” Peter says, very deliberately reasonable.

Alex points at him warningly. “I’m going to take that as a compliment,” he tells Peter’s smirk, “but you know I was talking about the other one. O’Connell,” he says, snapping his fingers again in triumph.

Peter tuts and shakes his head sadly. “Nope, the hairstyle will out - you’ll have to be Hannah and I-” he places his hand on his heart like an old-timey Shakespearian actor about to monologue his way through a half-hour death scene, “-shall be O’Connell.”

Alex spreads his arms in indignation, appealing to Ruth in supplication for aid; as expected, she laughs at him.

“Ruth can be whatsherface. Evie,” Peter adds happily.

“No, no, I’m being Lara Croft,” Ruth corrects. “I want to run about in temples and have a mansion and a butler.”

Alex nods, conceding this point. Peter wanders over and places one large, sun-warmed palm on Alex’s shoulder, gesturing at him with the other and squinting towards Ruth. Heat leeches from the sun to the air to Peter, and he presses it into Alex’s joints like a balm. It soothes and steadies, even as Peter says “Do you want Alex for your butler?”

“Oh, yes please,” Ruth says cheerfully and Alex sighs, as deliberately and falsely put-upon as the chickens. Peter snorts and hauls him closer, half hug half headlock; he goes willingly, even as he makes an effort to look hard-done-by for Ruth.

“Why aren’t there any more cool archaeologists?” he says.

“Well,” Peter says, sounding rather apologetic, “there is always…”

“Indiana Jones is a terrible archaeologist,” Alex says firmly. “Great jumped-up cowboy.”

Ruth huffs a laugh at the tired old argument and tips her face up into the sun rather than engage with its well-trodden lines. She breathes deeply, inhaling great lungfuls of warmed, clear air; against his back, Alex can feel Peter breathe slow and steady and perfectly in-time. There’s something soothing about it, in the same way that there was something soothing about watching Peter watch Ruth: it is nice to know, sometimes, that other people operate the same way he does. For a moment, there, in their long-awaited sunlight, the whole thing had been as mana from heaven, all warmth and brightness and that peculiar kind of beauty that cannot be looked at head-on. He’s not sure he had really noticed, before, how much the interminable, rainy January had worn on him, until he had been confronted by the sunshine; by Ruth’s art deco halo, and Peter’s scrunched-up gargoyle face; by truculent chickens for the laws of farm and man. And intensity of emotion can be isolating, if the moment is not shared - but it is. Ruth is breathing it; Peter is holding him a little too tight; they are all together under a sun a little too warm for the season.

“There should be more films about historians,” Ruth declares to the sky, eyes resting closed. “What’s not cool about this?”

“Right,” Alex says. “We haven’t been rained on for, ooh, must be twelve hours now. Hours of action and entertainment in this line of work.”

“What’s it mean for Candlemas weather predicting,” Peter says, shaking Alex’s shoulders slightly but letting him stand fully and lean into his side, “if Candlemas itself is disgustingly wet and rainy but the day following is worryingly sunny?”

“Worryingly?” Ruth snaps, cracking an eye open to frown at them.

Alex ignores this and sucks his teeth. “Oh, nothing good, I’m sure. We’re being lulled into a false sense of security, mark my words.

Peter frowns with deep and false concern. “Snowed in by the morning?”

“If we even last the night.”

Ruth works one glove off her hands and throws it at them, nailing Peter in the chest; he scrambles to catch it. “Worse than the chickens, you two are,” she says, fighting a smile. Peter holds out the glove and she presses her lips together and crosses the yard. Her fingers fold around the leather in his palm; his thumb falls gently to rest over her knuckles. Ruth looks up at them, all amused reproach. “Can’t you just enjoy it?”

Alex and Peter share a look, and then Peter shrugs. Alex looks back at her, and the sunlight, and the chickens and the pigs and the way her hair shines copper and Peter’s scrunched-up face and the warming, thawing ground - like spring is coming. He shrugs too. “We’ll give it a go,” he says.

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

The End Meets the Beginning Ch 4

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24281029/chapters/58773529#workskin

Summary: 

Beside the open space where the final rune should go, yellow lines carve themselves through the blue of the screen, first forming a square and then filling it with that same divine color from before.

With a flash of gold, the screen finally returns to normal, a new rune now available in the hud. A yellow rune with three triangles stacked together– like the birds bandanna, like the carving on the ground beneath his feet–to form one bigger one. 

The rightmost triangle is oddly brighter than the others.

They walk back the way Link had come; along the deer path through the Forest of Spirits.

Hypothetically, it should be a beautiful and peaceful walk, just like it was when Link had tread through the winding dirt path mere minutes ago.

In practice, it is anything but.

In practice, Link is too focused on the sunset orange of the bird to pay attention to the forest around him. No, as they walk, the woods are but a blurred background of greens and browns as the teen keeps his eyes firmly locked on the stupid bird and the Slate it carries in it’s beak.

So, again, no. It is nothing like his earlier trek through the Forest of Spirits, full of exploring the lush greenery, searing every sensation into his mind to sort through later. This is not a relaxing, stupidly fun, and beautiful walk through nature, trying to soak in everything like a sponge.

In fact, “walk” is probably too generous a word for what they are actually doing: aka, hesitant stepping and pissed off jumping.

The bird progresses forward slowly on it’s long yellow legs, each step a careful movement, like a heron tiptoeing through a marsh. Based on its slow progress, Link would have to guess that the thing doesn't spend very much time on the ground, probably more used to flying than walking.

Link, meanwhile, stomps beside the damned thing, occasionally leaping up to try to snatch his Slate back from its beak, to no success.

After about twenty minutes of an entirely one-sided game of keep-away and a pair of aching legs later, Link lets out a frustrated huff and falls into step behind the massive avian, letting it guide him as it chooses.

And the damn thing has the audacity to crane its neck back to eye him, letting out a churring coo at the sight of his frustrated face. Laughing! The damned bird is laughing at him!

“You know I could shoot you, right?” he grumbles as he follows it, kicking a stone off of the path not unlike a petulant child. “I’ve got my bow right here. I could shoot you and have you cleaned and plucked in time for dinner, you oversized cucco.”

Link gets a mouthful of feathers for his troubles, the bird flicking its cream and orange tail into his face, punishment for the sass.

The teen slaps the offending appendage away and then swipes his hand over his face roughly, spitting out a piece of down.

“Stupid bird,” Link mumbles under his breath.

Another flick of the tail, more feathers to the face.

“Quit it!” Link hisses, once again shoving the offending fluff out of his space.

Another churring coo. The bastard.

…

Even with their slow progress, Link and the bird soon emerge from the other side of the forest, the noonday sun bright and warm as they leave the dappled shade of the trees behind in favor of the field in front of them.

It really is a beautiful day , Link muses as he trudges behind the bird, who seems to have no intention of stopping anytime soon.

Beautiful. Truly beautiful.

It is beautiful how bright the sky is, blue in a way that Sheikah technology cannot match. Natural in a way Sheikah technology is not. It is beautiful how vibrant the grass is, caught in the noonday sun and swaying lightly in the faint breeze, turning the field into a sweeping ocean of veridian. Waves rolling in, waves rolling out.

They stride through the tide of green, until it too fades, the grass slowly turning to worn and cracked cobblestone.

And yet, the bird continues to walk, talons clacking on rock as Link is treated to the unique sight of the great avian walking up stairs and...

“Are you taking me to the temple?” Link asks as he follows the bird up the small set of steps, taking them two at a time until he stands in the middle of the broken and decayed square, next to the large, circular, stone fountain.

The teens' eyes flick up the hill, taking in the dismantled building, the twin spires missing their third sister, the old, red tiled roofing that looks one stiff breeze from coming down.

He looks at the building in its vine and moss covered half glory and wracks his name for its name. Something equally as dramatic as the rest of the plateau, if he were to guess.

Temple of… Temple of…

The name hits him, the toll of a phantom bell vibrating through his ears.

“Are you taking me to the Temple of Time?”

The bird swings its massive head around and gives a little, affirmative whistle, two notes flying up and up, muffled from around the Slate.

And with that, the bird continues up the hill, striding more confidently even as it walks amongst the wreckage.

And even that– the wreckage and the debris– even that, Link has to admit as he climbs upward, is beautiful.

It is beautiful how the walls, broken yet strong, stand resolute and present, criss crossed with vines and blanketed in soft looking moss. Beautiful how the soft skittering of small creatures–mice and squirrels and field snakes– softly disturbes the quiet.

It is beautiful how nature survives and thrives even from between the bones of a destroyed kingdom.

Faintly, as he stumbles over a displaced slab of stone, boots crunching over the shattered remains of an ancient pot, Link wonders if he would think it was as beautiful if he could remember. Remember what it looked like before the verdant moss or the graceful vines or the little animals.

If he could remember what it looked like full of another kind of life.

But he doesn't.

So it is all beautiful to him.

Well, almost all of it.

He cannot find beauty in… them.

In the unnatural, vase-like barnacles that cling to the sides of broken walls. He cannot find beauty in their mechanical, segmented legs, spindly and too numerous. He has no love for the carvings along their bodies, smooth and perfect as they may be.

They are too smooth, too perfect.

They are eyesores in their perfection, even submerged and dirt and laced in vines.

Even as they pass by them, three unnatural heads poking from a mound of dirt encroaching on the final set of stairs leading to the temple, Link looks away from them.

Looks away from them and ignores the way he feels his scars flare, the way air feels like it's been punched out of his lungs, the way his heart pounds, the way his eyes get misty.

The teen is glad when they are out of eyeline of the mechanical monsters.

Or at least he is until another monster reveals itself.

Because there, at the top of the stairs, standing idly in front of the temple’s entrance, is a blue Bokoblin.

A blue Bokoblin weilding a bone spiked club and a round travelers shield. A blue bokoblin that takes one look at Link and his bird companion and lets out a shrieking cry, dashing forward. A blue bokoblin that Link can’t fight head on because all his weapons but his bow are locked away as images in his Slate.

The monster streaks toward them–no. Toward him

The Bokoblin completely disregards the massive bird, swinging it’s run around the avian before dashing back around to face Link head on, red, pupiless eyes fever bright and hungry as it brandishes its club.

It throws its arm out, swinging its club in a half circle, trying to slam any part of the wood, the bone into Link’s exposed body.

Link dives away from the attack, swinging his bow out from behind his back as he stumbles to his feet and quickly fumbles with an arrow, trying to set it in the string and pull it back as fast as possible.

However, before he can pull the string taut, before he can line up a shot, a flash of dawn breaks, and the bokoblin is thrown to the ground, it’s legs knocked out from under it

It is the bird.

The massive bird that now approaches the downed Bokoblin, orange feathers fluffed up, neck stretched toward the heavens, and wings flared as far as they will go. The massive bird that has apparently spit out Link’s Slate and is instead using its beak to hiss in a way that the teen didn’t know birds could as it stalks forward on it’s long legs.

The bird that somehow grows even taller as it rears back on one foot, lifts one, yellow scaled and wickedly talon-ed leg into the air, and then stomps down directly onto the Bokoblin’s shield wielding arm.

A horrible snap– bone? wood? Link can’t tell– sounds through the air and the Bokoblin lets out a squealing scream. A squealing scream that is quickly silenced as the bird brings it leg back up into the air once more and then slams its down on the things head with a sickening crunch.

In seconds, nothing is left of the creature but a puff of purple smoke, its club, a few teeth, and a shattered shield.

And Link is left staring at the bird who neatly folds its wings against its back once more. The bird that gives itself a little ruffle until the rest of its feathers lay flat. The bird that turns to him and lets out a little concerned churr at the sight of his slightly misplaced clothes, stepping forward and nuzzling it’s beak into his chest.

Almost without thinking, Link brings his hands up, threading his fingers through the feathers on the bird’s crest as his other hand smoothes out the beautiful bandana around the avian’s neck.

“Okay,” he says, fighting back a smile as a rumbling, almost purr vibrates through his chest, courtesy of the bird. “Okay, that works too.”

Soon enough, however, the bird steps away from Link and bends down, collecting his Slate once more as it finally steps through the threshold of the building, entering the Temple of Time proper with Link close behind.

Link steps through the crumbling door, the sun’s harsh rays suddenly falling away from his back as he is enveloped in cool shade. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the sudden change in lighting, but when they do, Link feels something inside him unwind and relax.

The bird strides forward through the still, peaceful wreckage, steps more confident than before, the clacking of talons on stone no longer ginger, but rather quick and eager. Head bobbing with each step, the orange avian walks toward the unmoving, always smiling statue in the back with its head held high, its fluffy tail uncurled and wagging behind it.

And Link… well, he's come this far. Might as well humor the stupid cucco. It did just save him after all.

Not to mention the fact that he still needs his Slate if he's going to enter the last shrine.

He shakes his head, smiling.

Stupid, stupid bird.

So Link takes a breath, letting the smell of damp moss fill his nose. And then he breathes back out, following behind the orange bird that still leads him further into the building.

Link has to admit that he...likes the Temple of Time.

Maybe likes isn't the right word for it, he thinks idly, stepping over a slab of stone from the collapsed ceiling. There is something… familiar about it. Something soothing.

After stepping out of the cave he had been trapped within, gazing out into a world he had never seen before, Link had felt overwhelmed. His ears had rung with sounds he couldn't place, his skin had prickled uncomfortably under the too tight clothes he had scrounged together. His nose was filled with so many scents he couldn't place and the colors around him were both beautiful and almost too vivid, so bright and alive .

And as he had looked out over the cliff he found himself on, he was filled with a glowing, searing excitement. A burning need to throw himself off every cliff he could see just to see what was below. A need to race down every hill stretched and rolling before him, to feel the curvature with his own feet, his legs. A need to feel wind in his hair, rain on his skin, the buzz of static dancing, prickling at his blood.

He had looked out on an unexplored world bathed in the pink light of a dawning day and something inside him had screamed with the need to do everything.

It was exhilarating, considering everything he could and would do with his newfound freedom.

But it was also… a lot. A lot to consider how small he was in the world.A lot to think about the sheer amount of things there was to do.

It was a lot, even though he was excited for it.

But there was something about The Temple of Time that settled him.

In a world so full of new things to discover and experience and remember, the Temple of Time held a sort of familiarity within it. He feels safe here. In fact he felt so safe here that he had spent his first night within it’s crumbling walls, curled up in one of the alcoves near the entrance.

Another hop, skip, and a jump, avoiding more debris as he follows the bird closer and closer to the back of the building.  

There’s just something about it , Link thinks. Something about the way graceful carved stone gives way to jagged destruction. Something about the way grass pokes through the cobble stone floor, bright against the gray. Something about the missing section of wall exposing the interior to the light, the world, that Link likes.

He likes how open it is, the entire building able to breathe with him. He likes the way moss blankets everything, turning even the sounds that permeate the ruin somehow softer, more comforting. He likes the way light reflects off the shattered remnants of stained glass littered everywhere. Likes how it makes little rainbows in the corners of his eye.

And he likes the statue in the back. Likes the way she has moss encircling her waist, a fluffy skirt of green. He likes her serene expression, her eyes and smile soft despite being carved from stone.

He likes her, whoever she is.

So Link has no quarrel with following the bird as it strides up the altar to stand directly beneath her benevolent face.

He's done the same thing before. Has stood underneath her unflinching stone, has gazed up into her face and stared. Stared in the silence of a broken down temple, matching her smile with one of his own, a secret shared just between the two of them.

What he hasn't done before, however, is stand before the statue with the bird next to him.

And apparently, that makes all the difference in the world.

Link is rooted to the spot, eyes wide and mouth agape as light–not just afternoon sun–but yellow rays of pure light cascade from the ceiling, seemingly breaking through the roof to shine down, bright and pure and clean onto the dais.

More light, swirls up from the altar, faint reds and blues and greens mixed in with the predominant yellow, swirling beneath the statue, the moving glow catching in her carved robes and wings almost making her look like she's moving. Like she's alive.

The bird strides forward fearlessly toward the center of the altar, toward the light, and deposits the slate directly onto the sigil carved into the stone. The sigil of a stylized bird, much like the one on his friend’s bandana: wings outstretched, three triangles cradled between its feathers.

And as soon as the Slate touches the stone, the light suddenly flashes brighter, increasing tenfold and Link is forced to throw a hand over his face to block it out. And even then, red burns behind his eyelids, like when he turns his face skyward and lets the sun kiss his cheeks.

Bright, then. So bright it's like the sun.

And then just like that, the light fades, darkness blossoming behind his eyelids once more.

The light fades and Link can open his eyes, blinking white sparks and black spots from his eyes as he looks down at his Slate.

His Slate that is now glowing bright blue and making soft beeping noises.

Link looks at the bird. The bird looks back. And then it gives him that not-smile. Head tilted, the amber eye gazing at him crinkled with mirth and beak clacking excitedly.

So Link shrugs and quickly scoops up the device.  

He scoops it up and watches as the screen flashes the Sheikah symbol and then lets out four, familiar ascending notes. Beside the open space where the final rune should go, yellow lines carve themselves through the blue of the screen, first forming a square and then filling it with that same divine color from before.

With a flash of gold, the screen finally returns to normal, a new rune now available in the hud.

A yellow rune with three triangles stacked together– like the birds bandanna, like the carving on the ground beneath his feet–to form one bigger one.

The rightmost triangle is oddly brighter than the others.

Without a second thought, Link clicks it

Error. No wielder registered. Comes the voice of the slate, as flat and unalive as ever.

“No wielder…? What does that mean?” Link asks the open air, flipping the Slate this way and that, searching for anything else new.

Much to his surprise, his rhetorical question gets an answer.

Well, sort of.

The bird steps forward once more, lightly pecking at Link’s arm with its beak until the teen stops his inspection and holds the slate out, screen up for the bird to see.

And then the bird reaches around and plucks a single feather from it’s back and places the sunrise orange pinion down on the glowing blue glass.

Authenticating…

Wielder one of eight registered...

With four more ascending notes, the screen flashes gold once again, and this time, the new rune has a small symbol next to it.

A harp.

Link’s eyes flick back and forth between the screen and the bird. The bird, meanwhile, turns it’s head, inspecting him with a single amber eye, an encouraging whistle rising up from its bill.

“You want me to press it?” Link asks tentatively, hovering a finger above the new icon.

The bird nods, clacking it’s bill and doing that weird not quite smile it can somehow do again.

And honestly, the bird makes an excellent point. How can Link argue with that?

“Okay,” he replies. “Here goes.”

He presses the icon.

And beside him, his friend’s orange feathers begin to shift in shade, going from soft morning light to the sky at noon, bright and blue. And glowing. His friend is glowing now. Glowing brighter and brighter and then so bright that Link almost misses how parts of the bird begin to unravel into ribbons of ethereal blue light. The ribbons unfurl the bird, until it is nothing but streams of aquamarine and then they rise upward, out of sight, out of existence.

Huh, he thinks blankly, so that's what it looks like when I do that.

For a second, Link is left alone in the broken, silent temple.

And in the next second, a soft hum sounds next to him, ribbons of light appearing from nothing.

They swirl together, take shape, take form, and then the bird is beside him once more.

With a happy whistle, the bird leans forward and begins preening through his hair. A wing flashes out and encircles Link’s back and then all but smooshes him against the avian’s feathery chest. Little clacks of excitement ring out above him as a warm humming begins to emit from the chest his entire face is being pressed into.

“Okay…?” Link says blankly for a second, petting through the feathers closest to his face, his brain working furiously. And then after a beat, with more energy: “Okay, this is actually pretty cool! So I can summon you? Whenever, where-ever?”

Link feels the bird’s head shift. A nod.

“Sweet! Does this mean you can fly me places?”

Another nod, more excited this time.

“Awesome! Can you fly me to the last shrine?”

A shake of the head.

Link shoves himself away from the preening bill and the warm humming and the soft feathers, giving the bird before him an incredulous look.

“No?” he says, the word coming out high. “What do you mean, no?”

The bird leans down and examines him with a half lidded eye.

How a bird can manage a judgemental stare, Link will never know.

“No, you can’t? Or no, you won't?” Link demands throwing the bird a sour look.

The bird continues to stare at him. Turns its head to examine him with it’s other eye. And then very purposefully rolls that eye, lid fluttering as the avian lets out a little aggravated churr.

For a second, Link thinks the little shit is just being, well, a little shit. But as the bird continues to stare at him dryly, the hero nearly slaps himself because fucking duh. The bird can understand him, but it can’t exactly explain itself. And it doesn't look like it has any intention to, even if it could.

Fine then. If that's how the overgrown cucco wants to play it.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll go by myself!” Link hisses stepping down from the altar, throwing a glare at the bird. The bird, in turn, merely tucks its legs under itself and sits down,  fluttering its wings until they sit comfortably on its back as it watches Link stomp away in a huff

“I’m going!” Link says, throwing the words over his shoulder, voice going high at the end, imploring.

He flashes the bird a look over his shoulder.

And the bird looks back and bobs its head, moving it’s bill in a little “shoo, shoo” motion.

Well, that didn't work.  

With a sigh, Link gives up the charade, slumping. Something tells him that though his friend is here to help him, to guide him, there are some limitations to what the bird is allowed to do.

“Okay, okay,” Link says a little glumly, hoping over the debris of the temple as he walks toward the open wall.

He looks out across the plateau. Bright green grass. Clear blue sky. So much land. So much to do.

He throws another look at the bird, mock glare from before gone, a something timid taking over his expression.

And this time, when the bird bobs it's head, it looks less like a “shoo, shoo” and more like a "go on. get out there, kid."

Link feels a smile pull at his lips and he swears he sees the bird wink. The bastard.

He holds up his Slate as he approaches the doorway.

“But you’ll come if I use this right?”

The bird nods its big head, eyes crinkled fondly as it whistles a single high note. A yes.

With a smile, bigger than before and with no hint of timidness, Link nods back to the bird and turns to leave. Turns to head back out into the world. Alone for now, but really, not alone at all.

“I’ll see you later!” he says and then dashes away, back out into the wild.

...

It is quiet in the Temple of Time.

The choruses of days past have long since been silenced, replaced by the single note drone of wind through broken walls, through shattered stained glass.

It is quiet in the Temple of Time as a bird, a loftwing spreads its feathers in the sun peaking through the shattered ceiling.

And as the light hits its feathers, the bird ignites in an orange glow, the dawn of a new day in the middle of the afternoon.

And as the light dissipates, there is no longer a bird sitting before the ever smiling stone face of the goddess.

No. There is no bird.

Instead, there is a boy kneeling in front of the statue, head bowed in reverence, a beautifully embroidered white and blue cloth splayed over his shoulders like wings.

After a moment of silence, a silent orison, the boy looks up at the statue, sky blue eyes staring into unmoving stone.

“I wish you would let me speak with them, my Sun,” the boy says a little sadly.

A sigh.

“I wish you would let me speak with them, but I understand why it has to be like this.”

The boy looks out through the shattered wall, catching sight of the other teen, other boy, other hero as the blond disappears behind a hill, off to his next destination.

The boy smiles.

“He’s quite the handful,” he says with a chuckle. “I’m sure the others are going to love him.”

A small shadow passes over his face.

“There's so much he has to do… So much he has to go through…”

The shadow passes, the sun coming back after a cloudy day.

“But I think he’ll be fine.”

A nod to the unmoving stone.

“Yeah. He’ll be fine.”

In a flash of light, the boy disappears and is replaced with the bird.

With a small bow, the bird dips low in front of the statue of his goddess, his Sun, with his dawn wings spread wide. And then in a flurry of feathers, the bird takes flight.

Soaring up up up, through the shattered ceiling of the temple and off to keep an eye on the newest Light of Hyrule.

[terror-that-flaps-in-the-evening]

A Father’s Wrath

Drake glanced down at his watch for probably the fiftieth time since he had been directed to sit down in the too-small chair outside the principal’s office. How dare she call him here on such short notice, claiming that Gosalyn had been ‘causing problems,’ and then make him wait. It was already fifteen minutes after he’d arrived, and well, although he didn’t really have anywhere he needed to be until that evening, it was the principle of the matter.

It was while Drake was still chuckling to himself about his mental pun that she finally opened the door to her office and said, “Mr. Mallard-McQuack, please, come on in.”

Drake shuddered at her sickly sweet voice - it dragged him back to the days when he himself was constantly trapped within the confines of the cinderblock walls of an elementary school. He felt his skin itching, desperately wanting to exit this prison of flashbacks and memories.

“Uhhh,” he looked up at the principal, a formidable heron whose stature rose high above Drake’s own. She was well built - Drake couldn’t help but note that she would have little trouble overpowering Drake Mallard-McQuack. Darkwing Duck would have a few tricks up his sleeve that would leave him on top of the fight, however. Drake steeled himself, willing the words to not just pop out of his mouth. Asking Gosalyn’s principal who she thought would win in a fight was not exactly the way to make a good impression.

“Words are a commodity that we’ve worked very hard to perfect, Mr. Mallard-McQuack. Why don’t we try using some of them?” She smiled down at him with a glint in her eye that Drake felt suggested that she was winning this battle.

“My apologies,” Drake grumbled, staring down at his feet as he walked into the office. He knew that he was only there because of one of Gosalyn’s stunts, but he felt as if he were personally being called up to the principal’s office all over again - out the window went his bravado in the face of someone he couldn’t win a verbal fight against.

“Very well.” Her words were curt, proper, and targeted. She sat down at her desk, straightened out her name plaque, and crossed her arms in front of her, leaning forward to direct her piercing gaze directly at Drake.

“What seems to be the problem, uhhh, Mrs. Strongbill,” Drake asked, glancing down at her nametag afterwards, and hoping with every fiber of his being that he hadn’t said her name wrong. He was in luck, for once, as he did indeed get it right. Hera Strongbill - a formidable name for a formidable foe.

“Well,if both you and your husband could show up for parent-teacher conferences, you’d be in the loop. However, since you neglected to show up last time, and I do believe your husband’s excuse for you was, ‘He is definitely not in the sewers or anything,’ whatever that may mean, I must explain all over again. Your daughter is a bit of a… problem-child.”

“She is not a problem child!” Drake lost all inhibition, standing up from the chair he had been slinking in to slam a finger on the desk as he spoke, “That child has been through more than you ever will, and she deals with things in her own way. Now, I know for a fact that sometimes she gets… carried away, but that doesn’t mean she’s anything less than a genius. Have you seen her grades recently?” His eyes widened. What was he doing? Oh goodness what was he doing? He couldn’t yell at the woman who was in charge of his daughter’s fate…

He looked down at Mrs. Strongbill, who had lit a fire in her eyes as she barked, “Have a seat, Mr. Mallard-McQuack!” Before Drake even had the time to react, he felt his bottom making contact with the seat behind him. “Now, as I was saying before your explosion, your daughter, albeit one of the smarter kids in this school, is a problem-child.” Drake grit his teeth, staying seated despite the fact that literally every inch of his body was crawling to defend his family. “She got caught today sneaking a rat into one of the boys in her class’s backpack. Explain to me, in civil words may I add, how that is not a problematic action.”

“Well, uhh,” Drake stared down at his lap, tugging on his pink and purple plaid shirt, “She’s not one to sit by and take flak without giving at least some retaliation. Have you, uhh, looked into what spurred her actions?” Drake really did try his hardest to sound sophisticated. It just wasn’t in his nature. Sure, he was cool and collected as Darkwing. He was a loving family man who had quite literally the most perfect family in the world as Drake. He was quite the suave fellow either way. None of that helped him in this scenario, however. Puns wouldn’t get him out of this, and the only instance in which he could even hope to be a wordsmith was when he was cracking jokes.

“We are not of the mindset to blame the victims in this school, Mr. Mallard-McQuack,” Mrs. Strongbill said, staring down the length of her beak to give Drake a look that made him once again feel like this was his own personal trip to the principal’s office.

“If you’re trying to not blame the victim,” Drake started, grasping the armrests of his chair as hard as he could to keep himself firmly seated in his chair, “Then what are you doing blaming my daughter?”

“Your daughter, Mr. Mallard-McQuack, is not the victim in this scenario. She is the one who brought an animal into my school, with the intent to use said animal to harm another student. No matter what he has done to ‘incite’ this wrath of your daughter’s, she is the one who has committed an infraction, not him.” Drake was just about ready to get back up and start yelling at this lady again. Who did she think she was, with her fancy prose and holier-than-thou attitude. Yes, Gosalyn had done something outside the confines of the rules, but Drake was very certain that the boy in question deserved it. They’d had their talks on when it was okay to retaliate and when she should just ignore what was happening, and he knew that some form of bullying had gone on to spur this reaction.

“She has spirit,” Drake said through gritted teeth. “She has a spirit that cannot be beaten down by the bullying that you and her teachers turn the other cheek to.” Drake stopped himself, and it was a hard stop. He was ready to lash out again, to tell her that his daughter deserved more than what she was getting at this school, and he had half a mind to move her to a school where they’d actually take care of her. A school where he wouldn’t have to stress every time he dropped her off that she’d come home with a detention slip, a black-eye, and the news that the one who started the fight got off scott-free. But no, instead, Drake slumped back into his seat and said, “My daughter is not a problem-child, Mrs. Strongbill.” His words were sharp, but he left them simply at that.

“Despite what you may think, Mr. Mallard-McQuack, your opinions of your child do not dictate what is fact. Need I remind you of the times she has gotten in actual fights? Or the time that she walked out of class with another student? What about the time that she ripped another student’s assignment to shreds? I could go on, but I’m sure I’ve said quite enough.” That was it. Drake wasn’t just going to sit there while she threw all this slander on his daughter’s name. He’d tried Launchpad’s tactic of being nice to the ‘scary principal lady’ so that she’d go easy on him, but he wasn’t going to sit by for one more second of her insulting his little pumpkin.

“She has gotten in fights in which the other children have hit her first. When Launchpad and I confronted you and your god-awful administration about it, you said there was nothing you can do. She took Honker out of class with her because the other kids wouldn’t leave the two of them alone, and the teacher did absolutely nothing about it. She ripped up an assignment because that child, a real problem-child mind you, had forcefully copied it from her friend. My daughter might not go about things in the conventional sense, but everything she does is to protect herself and those around her.” Drake hadn’t realized that he’d stood up again until he realized that he had been pounding his fist on the meticulously organized desk of the principal. He was beyond the point of caring, however.

“Mr. Mallard-McQua---”

“Where is my daughter? Her and I are leaving, and there will be no arguments from you.” Drake stormed towards the door, not even trying to hide his pure, unadulterated rage at this point. After so many times the school had failed his little girl, they were trying to turn everything around on her and on his and LP’s parenting.

“Very well, Mr. Mallard-McQuack, but she is not coming back to this school until next week. The lady at the desk will be able to give you the paperwork for her suspension, which I do hope you understand.” Her voice was grating on Drake’s nerves. He slammed the door to her office open, ready to just storm out without another word.

Of course, classic Drake, he couldn’t just walk away without confronting her further. “I hope you understand that I’m taking her to go get ice cream when we leave, and she’ll learn so much more hanging out at the mansion for a week than she ever will here!” Drake smiled a little, proud that the words that had escaped his mouth were not his initial thought of, ‘I hope you understand that you’re stupid.’

Drake stormed up to the desk, paused for a second to collect himself, reminding himself that this nice duck at the desk was not the one that he was furious with, and he said, “I’m here to pick up Gosalyn Mallard-McQuack. And I’m here to pick up her suspension papers.”

The duck gave a solemn nod, no doubt having heard most of the discourse from the office, and she said, “I hope you two enjoy your ice cream day. She’s already sitting right outside the office.” She handed Drake the papers, which he promptly folded up and shoved in his shirt pocket.

He walked out of the office doors with a triumphant, “C’mon muffin, it’s ice cream time!”

“I’m not in trouble?” She asked, looking up at him with a hesitant smile on her face.

“Of course you’re not. Little girls who are in trouble don’t get ice cream, now do they?” His smile was wider than it’d ever been as he scooped her up in his arms, despite her protests that she was old enough to walk.

“Darn,” she said, once her giggling protests had stopped, “And I had all this time to brainstorm excuses that I don’t even get to use.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, Gos, you don’t need silly excuses with me and LP. If you’re in the right, we’ll defend you. If you’re in the wrong, your excuses will never work.” Drake smiled down at the little angel that was in his arms, his heart just about ready to explode from the love he held for her. “Now let me call your dad and see if we can’t get him to meet us for some celebration ice cream.”

[dontdoitluke]

We Could Be Heroes - Ch 7

Sky High AU, but instead, it’s a superhero University.

Summary: Emma takes flight and discovers something volatile.

Chapter: 7/?

Word Count: 1,711

CHAPTER INDEX

Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list!

Tags: @calumamongmen   @myloverboyash   @toofadedtofight   @bigtimesos @lukescherrypie   @burncrashbromance   @bumblebet-20  @calsophat @kindahoping4forever @lockthisheartinchains @babylon-corgis  @lfwallscouldtalk   @badguycal   @justhappytoobehere

Notes: The boys aren’t in this chapter, sorry! This is a filler to hopefully get me through my block and introduce some important things happening later.

I wanna thank the ladies of the 5sos Angels GC for sticking with me throughout this whole ordeal. It wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for y’all. Thank you, Angels <3

Also, this chapter has a slightly excessive use of the word “fuck”. My bad.

In front of the tallest building on campus, Emma leaned against the cool brick wall and furrowed her eyebrows, the wheel in her mind spinning over and over again. She thought about shifting into a lizard, but then she wouldn’t be able to carry her phone. Perhaps a squirrel? Or a beetle? That was even worse, and she mentally kicked herself for even thinking about it. She could easily shift into a bird, but that was too easy. She wanted a challenge... but she also wanted to save the flying for later.

The spinning mind-wheel slowed to a stop and landed on one of her favorite furry animals.  

Taking her phone out of her pocket, she opened the ring connected to the case and put it between her teeth as she faced the wall to begin her shifting process. The air around her was still as her bones cracked and her skin tingled, adrenaline rushing through her blood like lightning. Her slender hands morphed into tiny rough paws and her spine grew into a long, bushy tail, and soon, her entire body was covered in a thick layer of gray and black fur.

Emma, now fully shifted into a fuzzy raccoon, chittered happily and moved closer to the building.

Raccoons can climb walls, right?

She placed her tiny hand-like paws on the wall and dug her claws into the brick, lifting herself a couple of inches off of the ground to test her grip. It wasn’t as secure as she had hoped, but it would have to do. After all, she did want to be challenged.

Starting off slowly, she began to climb, focusing only on the ledge of the rooftop that seemed miles away. Steadily, she climbed faster, and faster, until she was very nearly running straight up the side of the wall, the phone dangling from her jaws scraping against the brick and concrete. She was nearly there, only a few feet away from the ledge. Once she reached the highest window, she rested her tiny feet against the exterior frame and steadied herself before surging upward, grabbing onto the ledge and dangling for a moment before scrambling up and over onto the rooftop. Her body rolled across the cool concrete as she shifted back into her human form, and she stopped on her back, panting softly.

Emma gingerly removed the phone ring from her teeth and flexed her jaw. Checking the time, she smiled excitedly. 6:42 a.m. Only a few more minutes until sunrise. She stayed still a bit longer to watch the colors around her slowly turning from a deep black to a softer shade of sapphire blue, and when sapphire blue began to take on shades of purple, she stood and moved to tuck her phone into a safe spot behind one of the solar panels scattered along the rooftop.

She brushed the dirt and dust off of her clothes and stepped up onto the ledge of the building, looking out into the colorful horizon in front of her. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and jumped.

Seconds before she hit the ground below her, she quickly shifted mid-air into a bright red finch and spread her wings in flight, her talons barely brushing the blades of grass as she swooped into the air. And just as she rose above the tall university buildings, so did the sun. As usual, her timing was perfect.

For Emma, one of the greatest things about being a shifter was flying. She loved how she felt when she was floating along the wind, her body and her mind feeling weightless and free. It was impossible for her to feel any emotion other than pure joy as she flapped her wings and rose higher and higher into the clouds, feeling the wind on her feathered face. Her favorite thing about flying was taking off right as the sun came up. 

She flew out of the courtyard and toward the coastline, gliding above the waves crashing along the shore to watch as the sun continued to lazily rise, and she continued to fly freely until the sun had fully risen, letting her mind wander off and her mental stress fall to the ground below. Her wings eventually took her back to the university campus where she landed gently on the ledge of the building where she began her flight.

Just as she began to shift back into her human form, the door leading up to the roof flew open violently and a young woman stormed out, followed by another young woman who was struggling to keep up with her. Emma immediately reverted back into full bird form before they could see her, and flew behind a wooden crate to hide. She didn’t normally care if anyone saw her shifting, but the woman angrily stomping onto the concrete roof was Cherice Alistair, and, like most people, Emma preferred to limit her contact with the self-proclaimed Princess of Goldbay.  

“She thinks she’s so fucking special just because she’s a fucking assistant that gets to play Teacher.”

They’re talking about Persey, Emma thought. Jeez, she’s still stuck on that? It's been days.

“What did your dad say?” the companion panted. Emma recognized her as Dee, a lovely rubenesque girl with rich dark skin and a shaved head. She was very quiet, usually, and she was also seemingly the only person who was willing to spend time with Cherice for more than an hour.

“He wouldn’t do shit! He gave me some fucking sob story about how that bitch Persey’s mom was the witch doctor that cured Grandmother and how he holds her entire family to some insane high degree,” Cherice waved her hands furiously, tugging at her thick red locks. “I can’t fucking believe her, acting like she didn’t know who Father was, acting like she didn’t know who I am...”

Inwardly, Emma laughed. It was pretty hilarious to see Cherice so worked up and not getting her way. Dee remained silent and moved to sit down next to a solar panel, groaning as she lowered herself to the ground.

“Like, who fucking cares if some old skank with herbs and crystals and oils inspired him to become a doctor. He would have been a doctor without that influence.”

“I thought your dad originally wanted to be a pilot.”

“Shut the fuck up, that’s irrelevant. He knows his true calling is medicine, just like I know mine is to be the next Mayor.”

Dee looked down and bit her lip, picking at some of the frayed strands on her jeans. “I don’t know, Cher, I’m sure she was just excited to be the teacher and took it too far, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal.”

Cherice slowly turned to face Dee, her face contorted with malice. “Not... not a big deal? That fucking bitch humiliated me in front of the entire class! She treated me like I was some kind of pest to be exterminated! And Father... fucking bastard... is acting like it’s nothing to sneeze at! And now I have to take that from you, too!?”

With every word, she grew more furious, and began to shake with anger.  

“Fuck that! She’s going to fucking pay, every cock sucking pathetic worm that sat in those cheap metal chairs and laughed in my face is going to pay, that lazy so called instructor that allowed that hippie bitch to lead is going to pay, Father is going to pay, they’ll all be fucking sorry!”

She let out a terrifying scream that pierced the sky and threw her hand in front of her as if slapping an invisible person, and every solar panel and HVAC unit in front of her was ripped from the concrete and thrown off of the roof in pieces. Dee scrambled backward and let out a whimper, and Emma squawked and flew up and settled on a far corner away from the flying debris, her tiny bird feet gripping the ledge tightly.  

For a moment, Cherice stood motionless, her eyes wide. She stared at her hands while her mouth hung open in shock. Dee slowly stood and moved closer to her cautiously.  

“Wow, I... didn’t know you could do that.”

“I-I... I didn’t either,” she whispered.  

Running a hand along her bare scalp, Dee took a deep breath and looked at the section of the rooftop that Cherice cleared. Aside from a few wires jutting from the holes they came from, the entire left side was completely bare. She sighed and put her hands carefully on her friend’s shoulders.

“Let’s go back inside, okay? You’re shaking like a leaf and I think you need to process this new power while you calm down. Let’s go grab some muffins. You love muffins, and today is your cheat day, yeah? I bet they have the ones with blueberries AND dark chocolate chips, those are your favorite, right?”

Dee slowly and gently turned the red-head toward the door and lead her to it, continuing to speak comforting words while Cherice mumbled about how everyone was going to pay for their crimes against her, and once the door was shut and Emma was sure that they were gone, she flew to the panel that her phone was hidden behind and shifted back into human form.  

“Thank God,” she sighed. Her phone was safe, and aside from being a little shaken up, she was safe as well. Or so she hoped. Cherice was a firecracker, everyone knew that, but now she has a new power and her anger was fueled to capacity, there’s no telling what she might plan next. She needed to warn her friends as soon as she could in case something actually did happen.

Before standing to exit the building, she spotted a tiny caterpillar inching its way along the brick. Instead of wondering how in the world it got up there, Emma licked her lips hungrily and moved to pick it up with her beak-

Wait, hold the fuck on, she wondered, shaking her head. I’m not a bird anymore... how long did I shift for?

She checked her phone. The time was 9:44 am. She’d stayed shifted an hour and a half too long.

“Ah, fuck.”

[iblue-kitzune]

Of Rising Calamities Beyond the Cosmos: Chapter 3

Subtle changes in the atmosphere were far and few between these strange times, but they were there, lying in wait, churning beneath the surface, and everyone can feel it.

A big one, as slight as it appeared to be, was upon them. In the water, in the air, or under the very ground they stood upon, it didn't matter. They could truly sense it in full, feel it deep within their bones and down to their very souls.

The change was so deep and felt so ominous, from the way the wind stopped blowing in mid-gust to the storm clouds clearing away in haste as if they got spooked by something, that it put everyone on the island all on edge.

No thunder...

No lightning...

And no rain...

It all suddenly stopped.

But that’s not what made them freeze up in fear. No, it was the agonizing silence that came immediately after the change they felt seconds ago.

It was quiet...

Too quiet...

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Inferno’s eyes snapped open the second he heard the sound of rushing water and garbled cries for help. Now immediately on guard, the dragon-bird raised his head and looked out in the distance, past the waterfall and past tall shrubs, to see an enormous flock of different birds and winged monsters burst into the area, and before he could react, they all flew right past his resting spot without a word.

"[What the—]" he jumped to his feet, jaw dropping in disbelief at the sight of an incoming tidal wave looming over the horizon.

Hearing more cries and roars, he took a quick glance down and had to not only bite back a curse but also stop his heart from jumping straight out of his chest as he witnessed an endless amount of monsters and wild animals get swept up in the current, never to be seen or heard from again as they were now lost within the watery depths.

His heart went out to them.

'[This isn’t good...]' he slowly backed away from the approaching tidal wave, and took a quick look behind him out of the corner of his eye. ‘[I need to warn Jane and Kagome. But first...]’ a purple glow surrounded his body as he closed his eyes, drew forth his mana, ‘[I must do this!]’ and shouted in his mind vehemently.

SWWWOOOOOOOOOOO!

The spirit ignored the biting sting from the sudden huge gust of wind that ripped through the area as a large glowing red colored rune materialized in place on the ground beneath his feet... 

“[Let the flames engulf you!]” Inferno started to chant, ignoring the shadow of the tidal wave looming over him and the cave as he stood to his full height of fifteen-foot-three and spread his wings wide open...

ZZZOWP!

And he ignored the sudden appearance of a new aura that just blinked into existence one thousand feet above him as his eyes snapped open.

"[Flame Ring!]" he cried out with a powerful flap of his wings.

A reddish-gold and orange circular ornament-like glyphs, in the form of hot flames, shot up from the ground right as the wave crashed right into, and blocked it.

FIIIIIZZZZZZZZZ!

The spirit gritted his teeth, holding onto his attack as the water began to dissipate bit by bit, ‘[Come on...]’ and as a result, a cloud of steam appeared before the dragon-bird and surrounded him from all sides.

‘[Damn it! I can’t see!]’ he squinted his eyes, trying to see how much water was left through the ever-growing veil of steam but to no avail.

The steam was too thick, making it not only harder for him to make out anything in the distance but it also clogged up his senses—specifically, his sense of smell and his sense of intuition.

He couldn’t smell or sense anything!

And what made things worse was that some of the steam was circling his around his spirit arte, completely blowing right past him —damn that cursed wind—, and straight into the cave!

"[Oh no...]" he looked back in horror. That will surely cause a problem for the ladies later on. He knew that for a fact—

WHOOSH!

A dark shadow interrupted his thoughts as it appeared right above him, and because of this, Inferno’s concentration of keeping Flame Ring up shattered into millions of pieces.

‘[No!]’

The flames vanished into thin air, and before the spirit could react, the unknown object plowed through the veil of steam of steam and landed right on his head, a cry of pain and shock escaping from his lips as he was knocked over.

‘[...S...Shit...]’

The last two things he saw before everything went dark was the identity of said object, which turned out to be a small dark colored griffin with a muzzle on his beak, and a small tidal wave rushing towards him.

Resigning to the fate that has fallen before him, he slowly shut his eyes closed and said his final words.

‘[...Jane...]’

The current washed over Inferno and drug both him and the griffin, who immediately latched onto his head without even realizing it, underwater.

‘[T...Take Kagome and...r...run away!]’

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Hey Auntie...”

“What?”

“Inferno is one of the Five Great Spirits on Earth, right?”

The sudden question, while it did not make her pause in the slightest as she continued walking through the dark cave with a blue colored flame lit in her left hand, confused her greatly.

“Yes,” Jane replied and looked back at the young black haired woman walking behind her. “Why do you ask? I thought you already learned this in elementary and high school?”

Kagome pursed her lips in thought. “I did...” she paused and considered her next words, “It’s just that...since you summoned him through a summoning spell instead going to his shrine domain and physically meet up with him like you or anyone else normally would, what happens to him if he gets hurt and defeated by someone?” she looked at the older woman who turned back around and faced the pathway up ahead.

At her inquiry, the older woman placed her free hand underneath her chin and rubbed it between her thumb and index finger. “Well it’s simple really. He just disappears,” Jane said with a small hum.

“Really?” she asked in astonishment.

“Yes, really,” the astrophysicist confirmed with a nod of her head.

As if she still couldn’t believe it, Kagome then asked, “Like all those who’ve been turned into summons do? They don’t die?”

“It’s a little complicated to explain, but when you create a summoning contract with any spirit, great spirit, or even a monster, they get placed in a special position. If you summon them to your side from wherever they were at, in battle or outside of battle—it doesn’t matter, and they either get knocked out or defeated from taking too much damage, they disappear and go back home. Or back to the last location they were in before they got summoned,” Jane elaborated in a teacher-like tone of voice. “It is only during this time, when you summon them, that they cannot die. They’re safe...” she said, moving her hand away from her face and dropping it to the side. “For the time being that is.”

Kagome blinked, forming an O shape with her mouth. “I guess that means if they’re not brought into the field and turned into mere summons through the contract you have with them, they will die,” she finished with a mumble, her face looking grim.

“Precisely,” Jane said solemnly. “And their names get crossed out in the contract after that. You’ll know when it happens,” she explained in a low voice. 

“How?” the young miko asked with a raised brow.

“By opening up the contract and checking the name after it and the scroll glows white,” the scientist answered. “That part is not exactly common knowledge to academia institutions or all of Earth just yet, but right now, only those within the summoner community or those who’ve made a connection with the spirits or monsters have possession of that knowledge and more.”

“I see...” Kagome said nothing further and looked down at her feet with half-lidded eyes, staring absentmindedly at the different colored pebbles and crystallized rocks embedded into the floor, thinking about how sad all of that sounded. 

It seemed like nothing, not even a summoning contract, could save a spirit or monster from death. It only bought them enough time to recover away from danger.

And this would prolong their lives just a little bit more.

At least, that’s what she thought. The young miko didn’t know because she never actually tried forming a contract with a spirit or monster before.

Only a handful of people—ones that she knew aside from her auntie, already did...

Like her dad, her little brother, Sango, Miroku, Lady, Nero, Kyrie, Dr. Strange, Clint, Wanda, Peter, and that one guy with black hair and amber eyes named Jude she met a few years back in Reize Maxia when she visited there, once.

“That’s strange...” Jane’s voice broke Kagome out of her thoughts. “Did I just...” the young miko looked up to see her aunt standing there near the edge of a cliff, looking deeply disturbed with her hand placed firmly on her hip.

“What’s wrong, Auntie?” a frown appeared on her face as she asked this.

Jane looked back at her and grimaced.

“I just heard Inferno’s voice right now before he poofed...” she trailed off when her golden brown-amber eyes caught sight of something moving above them, “What in the world...” and quickly threw the fireball up in the air to brighten the room up even further.

“Huh?” Kagome followed her auntie’s line of sight, and a small gasp escaped from her lips. “Oh dear, that’s not good at all.”

Tiny cracks started forming along the base of the icy colored stalagmites, that loomed high above their heads on the ceiling, and creating a zigzag-like trail until they reached the very tips. And before the two ladies could react, one of them exploded, sending millions of tiny shards everywhere.

“Aaaaahhh!” the two covered their heads as a few of the shards rained down on them, slicing up their sleeved arms and exposing their flesh to the biting chill of the damp cave, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

CRACK!

FWOOOOOOOOO!

‘Oh what now—’ the two quickly jumped away from their spots, narrowly avoiding a group of stalagmites that fell to the floor with a loud crash and shattered to pieces, staining the cave floor white.

Then all of a sudden, the fire went out and the room went completely dark.

“Shit...”

It took a few seconds for them to process what just happened, and they stared warily at the pieces of stalagmite dissolving into a puddle of water on the ground with wide eyes.

They were extremely lucky that they were able to dodge that in time; otherwise, they would’ve turned into a bloody shish kabob. 

And that would have not been a pretty sight to see.

The two ladies had no desire to find out what it looks like from the other end of being stabbed through and through or find out exactly how painful the whole ordeal feels once it happens. And despite how ridiculous it sounded, the two had the Sparda Twins and Nero cover that part considering the amount of times they’ve been skewered by a deadly sharp weapon in the past...

Or stabbed through the chest without warning, and by their own weapon no less at times.

Quite terrifying when you think about it.

‘I’m starting to think that’s some twisted family tradition of sorts,’ Jane mused as she and Kagome dodged a few more fallen stalagmites in the darkness, ‘I should probably ask Dante since he’s the one who has it worse...’ then dropped down into the abyss below without hesitation, successfully avoiding the rest of them.

“Where does this lead to?!” she heard Kagome holler from somewhere above her.

“I don’t know!” Jane answered back. Then she took a peek down and noticed something very peculiar.

‘Rocky platforms?’ she narrowed her eyes in deep concentration, and sure enough, the young brown haired woman saw a couple of them sticking out of the cliff wall’s side.

‘That’ll do.’

Seconds later, however, Jane saw exactly how close she was to reaching the bottom floor. 

‘Forty feet it seems,’ she estimated in her head. 

And so, with that in mind, she moved towards the wall and pushed herself off its surface with a powerful kick and jumped high in the air. Then in that same momentum, she turned and flipped her body upright —with some difficulty— just in time for her feet to land on a stray platform.

Once that was done, and after taking a few deep breaths, Jane braced herself and jumped off the platform the rest of the way down.

“Oh thank god...” the young woman sighed in relief once she landed on the ground safely. “That was actually a little bit harder to perform than I thought,” she wheezed a bit, wiping the sweat she managed to work up in that little time off her forehead. 

‘It’s because you’re tired...’ the Aether whispered to her. ‘You and Stark’s daughter have been running around and flying from island to island for nearly ten-and-a-half hours now. Exhaustion was bound to catch up with you sooner or later after all.’

Rolling her eyes, Jane ignored the voice of the reality gem and looked up, catching sight of Kagome’s falling form and watching how the young woman landed on the floor with a grimace.

“You make it easier than it looks, Auntie,” the young miko grumbled, dusting the invisible dirt off her clothes.

Jane shrugged, saying nothing in response to her niece’s comment, and took a look around the area they landed in. Technically, it wasn’t that different than what the upper floor of the cave looked like, just a bit more open and spacious.

And what do you know, there was some form of lighting, due to illumine purplish-blue and silver-white glow the surrounding rocks gave off, in the room.

“Well, at least it’s not pitch black to where I can’t see my own hand anymore.”

Jane laughed at her niece’s off-hand comment.

“True.”

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Loki didn’t know how much more he could take. Within the time he teleported in some unknown area and crash landed into that giant dragon-bird creature, who disappeared out of existence the moment the water washed over them both, the God of Mischief had been dragged under and thrown to and from every rock and wall he encountered in the cave.

He couldn’t do anything, let alone get any reprieve from the abuse his body suffered through for the past five minutes now. 

And it’s not like he could just fly out of the water and save himself—not with the condition his wings were in.

Plus, the moment he was able to push himself up to the surface to get what little air can and somehow breathe through the muzzle, that had tiny holes and cracks running along the surface of the damn contraption he once thought was indestructible —well not any more it seems—, he got dragged under.

Every single damn time!

‘Gahhh! Not again—’

A muffled groan of pain escaped from him as he was forcibly dragged underwater, again, and thrown into a much bigger rock this time, which turned out to be a broken stalagmite, shattering it in the process.

Loki closed his eyes and cursed in another language in his head. ‘That was the seventh time now!’ he seethed, cracking his green eyes wide open.

And it was a good thing he did too because there was another stalagmite heading towards him at high speed.

Panic seized him, and yet he still worked his wings and limbs into overdrive and quickly yet sluggishly moved to the side, letting the sharp rock flip past him and crash into a wall somewhere behind him. Then with a bit slight difficulty, he kicked his way up to the surface and broke free with a loud gasp that got followed by a few coughs seconds after.

‘I don’t think I can take much more of this,’ he flapped his wings and body to stay afloat, splashing water everywhere as he panted through the damaged muzzle harshly.

Too bad he couldn’t use his magic in the water. If it weren’t for the fact that his magic stopped working the moment he gets dunked in a large body of large water or for the fact that he can’t—

“Do you hear that?”

“Yeah, it kind of sounds like running water.”

“But that’s...impossible.”

Loki snapped his head up the moment he heard two familiar voices, and he turned around in the water only to freeze up at the sight of an upcoming drop—

‘Huh...?’ his body broke out into shivers at the sudden feeling of some foreign energy washing over him, and it had nothing to do with the temperature of the water, which he was already immune to. 

Then all of a sudden, a bluish-white light appeared and wrapped itself around his whole body.

‘What...what madness is this?!’ 

The God of Mischief found that he couldn’t move.

He couldn’t summon his magic...

He couldn’t counter it or teleport away out of it...

He just couldn’t break free of whatever hold he was in no matter how hard he tried.

He was trapped!

Before he knew it, the light surrounding him expanded in size until it completely engulfed him and the whole room.

When it finally died down, Loki was nowhere to been.

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Kagome jumped at the sight of a bright blue-white light warping in place above their heads, and to her immense surprise, a familiar dripping wet griffin, covered in cuts and bruises, popped out of the glowing portal and fell forward.

“How did you...” she trailed off, her eyes straying to the side to see her aunt’s hand glowing the same exact color. “Nevermind,” the young miko said.

A small grunt escaped from the astrophysicist’s lips as she caught the small animal and held him close. “What in the world are you doing here, Little one?” she asked, looking down at the squirming griffin, who blinked three times, as if to get his bearings, then froze still in shock once he realized where he was and who he was with. “You should still be back at home recovering from your wounds,” she spoke to him softly, reaching up to pet him on the head.

And to both of their surprise, he closed eyes and started to purr, which made the young woman smile.

“I think we should worry about that later, Auntie...” she heard her niece said over the griffin’s purring, who stopped and opened his eyes the moment she dropped her hand. “Because we got something bigger coming our way that we should focus our attention on,” the young miko continued.

Ignoring the open look of confusion, wonder, and slight relief in those shocked green eyes of his, Jane turned her attention away from the griffin to Kagome and noticed the woman slowly backing up in fear.

At the sound of roaring water, she snapped her head up—nearly giving herself a whiplash in the process, and her face dropped at the sight of a big tidal wave falling from the sky. 

‘So that’s what Inferno meant by “Take Kagome and run away”...’

With no time to waste, Jane shouldered the griffin in her embrace with one hand and grabbed a hold of Kagome’s arm with her other hand. “Time to go now!” she quickly yet gently hauled the young woman over to her side just as the water descended to the floor with a giant splash. “Hang on tight, Kagome!” she warned the young miko before levitating off the ground.

The young black haired woman nodded, too stunned to say anything as she wrapped her left arm around her aunt’s waist and held on tight.

Within a split second, a blue-white glow surrounded the three right as the tidal wave was upon them, and before it could come crashing down on the group, Jane took off with a great burst of speed.

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The sudden jerk of motion surprised the god and nearly threw him out of Jane’s arms, but he latched onto the woman’s sleeves before that could happen and held on with what little strength he had left as they flew through the dimly lit cave, watching everything around them blur by with the look of resignation.

As much as he didn’t like it, Loki had no choice but to accept Jane’s assistance—not if he wanted to get out of here alive that is. He will just have to grin and bear it until they find the exit. Then he can leave the woman’s hold, and maybe her company, although he wasn’t sure about that last one there. 

It was strange how calm and at ease he was right now—even stranger how it all happened in the first place, and it happened the moment he heard Jane’s voice and landed in her arms, seconds later. 

The funny part about all of that was him not making a fuss or saying a single word about it to her. Technically, he wasn’t angry at her for putting him in a telekinetic hold even though the action itself almost sent him into a panic attack, which he should give her a piece of his mind for that, but he wasn’t going to. And he most definitely wasn’t angry at her about the fact that she literally teleported him to her side—how could he when it was she who saved him from a death that he would consider so degrading.

But to be fair, he had been more surprised at that discovery than anything else. And what a discovery it was! To learn that a mere mortal, a small Midgardian woman, could perform such incredible powers similar to that of his. It had been so powerful that not even he, a God, could break through it.

This Jane was something else entirely. An anomaly that he’s never encountered before.

And speaking of anomalies, he wasn’t exactly sure why he was content with being held for the ride, and so intimately at that too. 

Normally, he disliked being touched by another being—couldn’t stand it actually as a matter of fact. Not since the time his life got turned upside down with the discovery of him being a Frost Giant, not since the time his so-called parents lied to him, not since the time Odin rejected him when he and Thor hung over the broken Rainbow Bridge by end of Gungir, and not since the time fell into the Void after letting go.

Point of the matter is, he didn’t like it. Didn’t like the idea of being held, hug, or touched...unless he was the one who initiated the action first. 

Just him and no one else.

But somehow, and for some strange ungodly reason, a small tiny little part of him that he didn’t want to acknowledge right now—the part that he thought he’d  buried long ago when he was a sweet, naive innocent young boy, didn’t mind being held by Jane. 

Hugged by her even.

Compared to every other Midgardian he had the misfortune of being around with, before and after his awakening, there was just something different about Jane. Something that he couldn’t quite figure out just yet—and he was determined to.

So mysterious...

Like puzzle...

That’s it. That’s what she reminded him of, a puzzle!

And he’s solved many puzzles before. Some had been intriguing while others had been either boring or frustrating—borderline on the maddening side of things.

Where she fit along the spectrum was a mystery itself. 

And lucky for Jane, Loki loves a good mystery.

“The griffin’s been oddly quiet this whole time,” he heard Kagome said in a low voice, noticing the young woman looking right at him out of the corner of her chocolate brown eyes. “I wonder what’s he thinking about?” she mumbled to herself quietly.

So the girl wanted to know what his thoughts were huh? Well that’s too bad. He wasn’t in the mood for that kind of discussion, and never will be. His thoughts were his own and no else—  

“Just the usual...like every other stranger thinks when they first meet someone like me. They think I’m like some sort of interesting puzzle, an enigma, someone they can’t figure out. Pfff, as if I need to be solved by a bunch of people, animals, spirits, and monsters,” Jane said with a laugh, sounding both amused and annoyed at the same time.

“Well can you blame them, Auntie? You can, uhh, be a little hard to read at times...” Kagome pointed out. “Or talk to...sort of,” she added with a small sweat-drop.

“And you think I should make it easier for them? Jeez, I hope that’s not what you’re—” 

“Implying? Goodness no! I’m not!” Kagome grinned at the other woman. “You’re just being yourself. And if that’s something people have a hard time figuring out or coming to terms with, well I’m sorry to say that —and no offense to our new furry little friend here— that’s on them,” she continued with a shrug. “Every individual is special and unique in their own way, and you’re no different, Auntie! You are...you! You’re a Half Fire and Light Wielding Spirit with cool Psychic Powers! You’re Dr. Jane Valerie Foster, Nobel Prize Winner, one of the World’s Leading Astrophysicist, Faithful Ally and Friend to the Avengers, and one of the most recognized scientific geniuses of this time! A scientific genius who also happens to be a member of the Science Bros!” she finished with a flourish, passion dripping deep from her voice. 

“Is...that really how everyone views me whenever my names pops up in the conversations? That’s...I don’t know. You sure you’re not laying it pretty thick on there, Kagome? It seems a little...” Jane trailed off quietly, as if she couldn’t imagine the level of excitement people experienced in her presence before.

“Believe it, Auntie!” Kagome winked at the older woman then busted out laughing when she turned pink and looked down to avoid her smile. “Never thought I’d ever say this out loud but good lord you can be pretty oblivious when it comes to these kinds of things—”

“Did you just...”

“Oh please! Darcy and my little brother aren’t the only ones who still watches anime.”

“Why am I not surprised by that,” Jane deadpanned with a roll of her eyes. “And to think that Naruto, of all things, is still popular to this day despite that show being old—”

‘...What...’

It can’t be...

This woman was...

And just like that, the overload of information he was unknowingly presented with as well as the astonishing discovery of Jane’s identity and her full name, including those surprisingly long titles that came with it, caused Loki’s brain to short-circuit. 

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dead silence now enveloped the atmosphere as Jane continued to carry both Kagome and the griffin, who strangely thought himself a God��as outrageous as that sounded to her, through the air, weaving in and out of different paths that split into twos the further they went into the cave. 

“I don’t hear the tidal wave anymore,” Kagome said, looking behind her. “Now that we’ve escaped from that disaster, I think we’re pretty safe in here to say the least.”

“Good...” a small hum came from Jane as she said this and turned a corner. ‘Wait a minute...’ there was something gleaming in the distance, something that looked like an opening. ‘Wow! It is one!’ a smile broke out on her face at the sight of a small white hole up ahead, shining as bright as the sun itself. “Because I can see the exit just up ahead,” she told her niece.

Kagome along with the griffin, who shook himself awake, perked up at this news.

“Oh thank Kami!” the young miko closed her eyes and let out a big sigh of relief. “I thought we would be stuck in this cave forever.”

Resisting the urge to say a sarcastic remark, or at least something back, the scientist held her tongue —for now— and sped up, flying toward the exit with every little bit of mana she had left.

                                            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In a small clearing of a spacious green valley with what looks to be a weird hybrid between an extravagant city and a village, that was surrounded by snowy mountains and bright blue lakes, lurking in the far distance, various monsters and other creatures of sorts ran around the area. Some frolicked through the tall grass, hiding behind whatever boulder they could find, as if they were playing a game of hide-and-seek, while others flew through the air in loopy loops.

In the midst of their performance, they zoomed right past a figure sitting Indian style on a wide boulder that not only sat waist deep in the middle of one of the lakes, but it also towered over the majority of the boulders and stonehenges in the area.

And that figure was a blue and black bipedal jackal-like creature with a mask around its face, short spikes on the back of its forepaws and its creamy colored chest, and four black appendages that hung down behind its head.

Currently, it was mediating and focusing on expanding its energy, checking for anything out of the ordinary.

FIIIIIZZZZZZZZZ!

Like right now.

The jackal grunted before its eyes snapped open, revealing ruby red orbs that glowed a bit orange in the light from the evening sunset above.

“What is it Lucario?” five voices, three of them being feminine while the other two were masculine, called out the it from below.

“Hmm?” the jackal said, its voice deep in sound. “What is it?” he looked down and spotted a group of creatures gathered around near the water.

Up front and center was a white and light blue colored fox with a small crest on his forehead, midnight blue eyes, midnight blue rhombus markings on his back, the tip of his tail, and on the tips of his dangles hanging down from the sides of his face.

Next to him, on the right, was a bluish-black weasel-cat with three pink tail feathers, red eyes that were surrounded by black eyelash markings, and yellow oval markings on her chest and forehead while the one on the left was a white and bluish-black sphinx with ruby red eyes, a crescent moon shaped horn on the side of her head, and a scythe-like tail.

And finally, behind the three, were two dragons. The bigger one was wyvern and bat-like with a black and purple body, yellow eyes with blue-green sclerae, large wings that blue-green in the membrane area, and a long sharp tail that curled around her body while the smaller one was western-like with a blue and grey body, black eyes that had a hint of blue in them and was surrounded by red ridges that sat on top of his head, red markings over various parts of his body, and giant red wings that were shaped like fans.

“What did you sense just now?” the weasel-cat asked.

“I think Absol mentioned that she sensed something too just before we all came over here,” the fox added.

Lucario narrowed his eyes and jumped down from the rock, joining the others on land. “Just three non-hostile auras that have arrived here, Sneasel, Glaceon...” he replied then turned his attention to Absol. “What about you?” he asked her.

“What I sensed had nothing to do with the new auras. And I felt it near the cave,” she answered, and out of the corner of her eye, motioned the two dragons behind her. “Noivern and Salamence got a little bored with their game, so they found me and decided to tag along after I told them what’d happened.”

The jackal nodded.

“Okay, that should be the area you guys check out first. Meanwhile, I’ll stay here and keep an eye on things,” he suggested.

“Right!” they all said.

Lucario turned around and jumped back onto the rock while his friends took off.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama + HashiramaIzuna Word count: 1720 Soulmate au: The one where everyone can shape shift to a unique animal form at will but if your soulmate demands you change form you are forced to

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Chapter 180: Madara/Tobirama + Hashirama/Izuna

Izuna slipped one leg off the tree branch he was perched upon and let it dangle beneath him to counterbalance the weight he was leaning forward, abdominals twisting side to side as he tried to find a better angle to stare through the leaves.

“Are they even still fighting?” he asked. “They’re not making very much noise and that sort of worries me.” From the branch just above him Hashirama sighed that special long-suffering sigh that could only come from years of siblinghood.

“Tobi’s changed forms. Madara’s trying to stare him down but you know how stubborn he is.”

“You mean how stubborn they both are,” Izuna corrected him.

With one more twist he finally found a break in the leaves the peer through, spying on the two idiots across the field. Their brothers had been arguing for the better part of the afternoon and it was hard to keep up with exactly what they were butting heads over since the topic seemed to fluctuate by the minute. Izuna was at least somewhat sure they had started today’s bickering fit when Madara tried to find fault with Tobirama’s kata stance – which was, of course, as flawless as it had ever been. From there they had gone through faulty paperwork, clan deficiencies, general hygiene, and mental capabilities.

They were in top form, actually. Hashirama had remarked over an hour ago that he wished they could put half as much effort in to their lacking personal lives as they did in to these pointless bicker fests and Izuna was still snickering about it. It was a fairly common opinion that they fought so much because they enjoyed it.

“So.” With a sly grin that many would assume him incapable of, Hashirama leaned forward and placed a hand on Izuna’s shoulder. “Shall we take bets on who gives in first this time?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be laying off the gambling habit? Didn’t Mito say something to you last week about that?”

Hashirama drooped. “I regret letting her marry my cousin. They have been terrible influences on each other and all they do lately is gang up on me!” Grumbling inaudibly, he slid off his branch and came down to squat right in Izuna’s line of view, peering out through the same spot he had been while at the same time giving Izuna a delicious view of his backside.

“Now I can’t see,” Izuna grumbled for the sake of keeping up appearances. The words were half-hearted at best.

“You’re not missing much. Madara’s shaking one of his fingers at Tobi but – oh, no, now he’s waving them both around because Tobi yawned in his face. That has so much more attitude when he’s a cat; I think it’s the big tongue. Do you think all snow leopards have such big tongues?”

“How should I know?”

Nonplussed, Hashirama turned back to shrug at him. “Should we go separate them then?”

“I suppose so. Otherwise they’ll be out here all night and Madara promised he’d take a turn cooking dinner for once.”

The two of them swung down from the tree in synch and Izuna tried not to be obvious about how distracting it was watching the ease of grace with which Hashirama moved. For such a clumsy man he sure was beautiful in motion, especially on the battlefield. There wasn’t much need to search for a distraction, though, since the moment they started across the field was the moment Madara finally lost his temper and sank down to the level of childish demands.

“Change back!” he shouted, clearly not expecting any sort of actual response. All four of them were startled beyond belief when Tobirama’s form contracted and suddenly he was human again, half crouched in the spot he’d just been lounging and staring up at Madara with a gaping jaw. Madara stared back. “You…changed back?”

“I didn’t mean to,” Tobirama breathed. Knowing what those words implied, Madara swayed on the spot.

“But you…and I’m…so we–?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

Madara nodded slowly, eyes so wide they were ready to fall out of his head despite the medical chakra that had secured them in place a year ago. If he lost those eyes after Izuna went to all the trouble of convincing him to swap then he was in for a temper tantrum the likes of which Konohagakure had not yet seen.

Eventually Madara seemed to gather himself enough to remember their surroundings – and the two spectators watching from the tree line. By the scowl on his face he clearly did not appreciate having such a precious moment witnessed by others. Tobirama still looked pretty dazed when Madara grabbed him by the arm and began to pull him away to somewhere a little more private, allowing himself to be led around and tripping over his own feet while he tried to force his brain to process what was happening. When they reached the far side of the field they stopped, murmuring to each other, regrettably too quiet to be overheard.

Somewhere in that conversation they must have forgotten the entire point of moving away. Or perhaps one of them decided that he was too impatient to wait for a more private venue to present itself. Whatever the case, Madara was grinning like a fool when he went in for a kiss without warning, turning and bolting away with a smug expression as he changed forms to leap up in to the trees.

“You can’t just do that without warning me!” Tobirama shouted at his back before slipping in to his own secondary form, snow leopard chasing after lion with his teeth bared playfully. Distant yowls and the sounds of snapping branched drifted from that direction for several minutes after they left until finally the forest fell suspiciously quiet. Tobirama, apparently, had made a successful catch.

Izuna blinked in the spot where they had both disappeared, murmuring under his breath, “Well I wasn’t expecting that.”

Before Hashirama could spew any nonsense about always knowing their brothers were meant to be – he could see it in the man’s eyes but surely not even someone like him could have predicted that two people who were at each other’s throats so much were destined for each other – Izuna cleared his throat and cast about for something to distract them both. As nosy as he usually was with his brother’s disastrous love life, he very much did not want to know how that conversation with Tobirama was going to end. Some things he just didn’t want to hear about.

“Wild, huh? You know I’m kind of surprised that neither of them tried that before.” As he spoke Izuna gently turned Hashirama around and set the man on a path back through the strip of forest that provided a natural barrier between trainings ground and village.

“You know, now that you mention it, me too.” Hashirama hummed and watched the sky as he walked, only half aware as he was steered away from waltzing straight in to a thick maple. “They both really like to yell. And Tobi does like to get out of arguments by just changing his form and going to sleep. It’s very surprising that it took this long for Madara to use those words.”

“He’s an idiot, what can I say?” Izuna snickered to himself and then dodged the fondly exasperated swipe of Hashirama’s hand.

In silence they wandered, following the path already worn through the loam by hundreds of shinobi taking the same route through the forest to get in their daily exercise. After a few minutes Izuna let his thoughts drift and he had already distracted himself watching a nest of newborn robins cheep cheeping for their dinner when Hashirama began to chuckle to himself.

“Did you see Tobi’s face?” he giggled.

“That dumb look of shock.” Izuna tried to imitate it without cracking a smile. “Gasp! How can it be you!?” Making Hashirama laugh felt a little like triumph.

“Yes! And then Madara’s face! He should be more careful of his words.” Hashirama looked over and pulled his face down in to his best approximation of Madara’s grumpy scowl, pitching his voice higher to try and match the other man’s irritated shriek. “Change!”

Izuna didn’t have time to laugh. Before he could do more than blink something in his gut pulled until he thought his very soul might come flying out of his mouth. When the feeling passed he shook his head violently and looked up at Hashirama, suddenly so much taller. Embarrassingly, it took a few moments for it to sink in what had just happened but when it did he was hopping around in small circles, unable to contain the massive wave of emotions in just this small body of a fan-tailed raven.

“Um…Izuna? You...did you mean to change?”

Falling still, Izuna shook his hard little beak from side to side. After a moment he realized that he was very free to change back to his other form despite Hashirama’s demand having forced him in to this one so he did that, flowing back in to human shape with barely a thought. Then he stood with both arms hanging loosely at his sides without a clue what to say. Luckily Hashirama had never been the sort of person who ran out of words.

“Are we soulmates too?” he asked in a breathy voice.

“I guess we are…” It was hard to believe despite the evidence of the change he had gone through involuntarily.

“Oh. Wow. Izuna, this is…this is amazing!”

Without any further warning Hashirama threw himself forward, catching Izuna around the middle to lift him up in the air for a tight bear hug and jabbering about how happy he was with the unexpected match. Getting swung back and forth through the air like a rag doll made him feel a little like a child but Izuna couldn’t bring himself to be all that upset about it. Not only had his secret crush turned out to be his soulmate. Not only did Hashirama actually seem excited that it was him.

But it looked as though Madara would be a bit too distracted over the next few days to interfere with the first few steps they took to figuring out their relationships. Life really was being kind to him lately.

[bazypitchandsimonsnow]

The Black Swan

Chapter 5

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word count: 4418

Chapter: 5/17 (All chapters)

Summary: Baz and Simon get to know each other more.

Read on AO3

AN: Sorry for posting so late. I had actual irl friends over lol. Hope you guys like this. It's short but has some necessary information.

———————————————

“And if you get up on higher ground,” Simon yelled, “you’ve got an advantage over your opponent.”

Simon hopped on the small collection of rocks just in time to parry Baz’s thrust. Baz didn’t stumble back. He had gotten a lot better at holding his own and staying steady. Though a lot of his skill did still come in his precise eye. He still went for accurate moves rather than Simon’s strong but wild slashes and thrusts. It was like a roaring flame versus creeping ice. Simon’s former last name seemed very apt.

“I think you just like being taller for once,” Baz said.

Simon’s mouth dropped open in offended disbelief. “You’re not even a head taller than me!”

“That still makes you shorter.”

Simon growled and hit Baz’s stick hard. But Baz wasn’t knocked off balance. He held his ground. And Simon could see a glint in his eye. Something suddenly worked out in his big scholar brain. Before he knew it, Simon was being jabbed just under his rib, and all the wind flew right out of his lungs. He stumbled back on instinct, and soon there wasn’t anything under his feet. He landed on the ground with a painful thud, and his head hit with an even more painful crack. Simon groaned and rubbed his aching skull. When he opened his eyes, Baz was looming over him, stick pointing down, smirk playing on his mouth.

“My point,” he drawled with more than enough smugness. “Maybe the higher ground isn’t always an advantage.”

“Prick,” Simon grumbled. “At least help me up?”

Simon reached up, and Baz rolled his eyes, but took his hand anyway. He used all his considerable strength to haul Simon to his feet. Simon was still astounded by how strong Baz was. It made his heartbeat skip for a moment. Which was odd. That had never happened before.

“What’s the match count now?” Baz asked.

Simon shrugged. “Um, I think it’s twenty six for me and four for you.”

Baz’s eyes narrowed, frowning slightly. It was easy with the way his lips were shaped. Simon was pretty sure his face was made for pouting. “That can’t be right.”

“I’m the real sword fighter, remember?”

“With the coordination of a charging ox.”

Simon shrugged again. “Hate it all you want, but I’m still beating you.”

“I don’t like to lose,” Baz muttered, most probably to himself. Simon had certainly learned that. For someone who’d had limited company for probably years before Simon, he was insanely competitive. He wanted to be the best. Simon wondered if Baz competed with the other swans before he showed up.

Baz stuck his stick in the ground and stretched his arms to the sky. Simon’s eyes were drawn to the way his lithe back curved for a moment, but he quickly looked away. When Baz dropped his stick, Simon knew that meant sparring was over. He did the same, then followed Baz to the edge of the lake. Baz sat cross legged just as a swan came close. Baz ushered it closer. The bird came out of the water and laid itself in Baz’s lap without hesitation. He petted it’s feathers softly. Simon had only ever seen this sort of kindness in Baz when he was with a swan.

“You really like those birds, huh?” Simon said.

Baz gave one brief nod. “They’re very sweet, in reality. And...they’ve been good company all these years.”

Simon smiled slightly. It was good, that Baz had company. Curiosity overwhelmed him, as it tended to. He reached towards the swan cautiously, just hoping to pet it’s head. But it instantly stretched forward and honked at Simon, almost biting his finger. The sound was so strange and loud that Simon yelped in response. He fell onto his back, staring at the starry sky, instinctively clutching the hand that was almost de-fingered.

There was a strange noise. Tiny little sounds that Simon had never heard before in this lake. He looked up to see Baz hunched over, shoulders shaking, giggling. Fucking giggling. It was so strange, yet incredible. His grey eyes crinkled at the corners, thin mouth stretching so much bigger. He looked far less like the stern statue or smirking asshole Simon had come to know. He looked far more...human.

“Stop laughing at me,” Simon grumbled, pushing himself up to sitting once more.

“I wouldn’t be laughing if it wasn’t so funny,” he said while still sputtering slightly. “Did you never learn to not approach wild animals?”

Simon huffed. “If I knew that, I never would’ve found you.”

“Hm, true enough.” He went back to petting his bird. “She’s actually very sweet. She just has to get to know you.” He scratched under beak. The sound she made was probably the closest a swan could get to a purr. Baz smiled. “See? A complete darling.”

Simon couldn’t help but smile himself. It was far too sweet not to. Baz really was far more than what he’d first appeared to be. And Simon knew he deserved more than what he was stuck with.

“So, uh, Baz,” Simon said slowly, “I’ve been talking to my friend.”

“Good for you,” Baz replied, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“Oh, fuck off. What I mean is that she’s a mage too, and she’s really smart. So I asked her and she told me stuff. About curses.”

Baz’s back went ramrod straight. He was so quick it almost spooked his avian companion, who flapped her wings and honked in protest. Baz calmed her down with petting again.

“I see,” he said quietly. “What did she say?”

———————————————

“Curses?” Penny said, still blinking sleep from her eyes. “You want to know what I know about curses?”

Simon nodded vigorously. “Yeah, yes please.”

Penny gave him a disbelieving, annoyed look over her spectacles. “Seriously?”

“Yes!”

“But why?!”

Simon froze up. Shit. He hadn’t thought this far into the conversation. He stared at Penny for a ridiculously long time. Penny got more and more frustrated, her face pulling more and more together, like someone was pinching it together.

“Simon-”

“I’m curious,” Simon blurted out.

Penny’s gaze got even more critical. “You’re curious?”

“Yeah. W-We never learned about curses in school. I wanna know more, about them.”

“At the crack of dawn?”

“...yes.”

Penny eyed him up and down. Simon hoped his deception wasn’t showing. It wasn’t even really a deception really. More like, omitting some of the truth. He was curious, he did want to know more about them. But it was for a specific reason. For a specific person.

She shook her head, and gestured Simon inside. “Get your stupid arse in here.”

Simon scurried inside. Penny quietly closed the door behind him. They were opposite each other. Penny sat with her legs and arms crossed in the wooden chair. Simon sat on the sofa, knee bouncing up in down.

“So, curses,” Penny said, “what do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Simon blurted out. “I-I need to know everything.”

Penny groaned and rubbed her forehead. “Gods, Simon, you’re seriously going to be the death of me. Fine. Curses, here’s what I know.” She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Curses are one of the most ancient form of magic. They involve trapping someone somewhere or changing them to be however the caster desires. Usually, it was used as a form of punishment, vengeance, or to teach a person a lesson. Like cursing an arrogant prince to be ugly so he learns humility.”

Simon nodded along. “Okay, cool. They’re not used a lot anymore, right?”

“Yeah, no one curses anyone anymore. It’s stupid.”

“But why?”

“Because curses are dumb. They’re overly complicated to create, hard to cast, and really not that useful. Look at those fairy tales you love, Si. The curse is always broken and the caster gets punished. That’s accurate to the olden days. Curses were never effective. They were always broken eventually, because they had to be.”

Simon’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Penny sighed. “Curses are powerful magic, Si. Taking that much power for too long could cause serious damage to the magical atmosphere. There has to be a safety measure so that power can return. So no matter how much you hate a person and want them to suffer, a curse will always have a means of escape.”

“Really? Always?!” Simon’s heart was beating two fold. He was excited. There was hope. There was hope for Baz.

Penny nodded. “Yeah, always. Any case of someone trying to cast a permanent curse backfired on them horrifically. I guess it’s magic’s way of making sure we put in that safety measure.”

“Okay, okay. How do you break curses?”

“Ah, that I actually don’t know.”

Simon was very shocked. He wasn’t used to Penny not knowing something. It was rarer than a blue moon. “You don’t know?”

Penny made a funny face, twisting her lips and tapping her fingers. “Well, I know there’s some universal curse breaking stuff, like a generic reversal potion or true love’s kiss. But that’s basic shite. If the mage is clever, the way to break the curse will be specific. Like you’re forced to dance every night and someone has to match your steps for the curse to be broken. Shit like that.”

“Okay, got it.” Simon scratched his chin like some thoughtful scholar. “So, if I want to break a specific curse, how would I find out how to do that?”

Her eyes get very suspicious. “Simon, what is this really about?”

Simon didn’t want to lie to Penny. He hated the idea of lying to his best friend. But he also knew Baz was supposed to be hidden. It was already a huge risk for Simon to know about him. Another person knowing could be dangerous. Simon didn’t want to put Baz in more danger. If this all worked out, he’d apologize to Penny later and beg for her forgiveness.

“David is trying to help my magic development,” he said. “He gave me this hypothetical about someone who’s been cursed. It’s stupid so I didn’t want to talk about it before.”

Penny still didn’t look convinced. Simon gulped down the massive lump in his throat. His palms were definitely sweating. He wasn’t good at lying. Penny knew that. But Simon stayed resolute, because he wanted to protect Baz.

“Alright,” she sighed. “I get it, David likes to mess with you.”

Simon tried to hide his relief. He nodded rapidly. “Yeah, he’s trying to challenge me.”

“Sure, whatever. Anything else I can do to help you solve this?”

He twisted his mouth and drummed his fingers. He looked up at her with a kind smile. “Got any books I could borrow?”

———————————————

“And she gave me these.” Simon took the large volumes out of his old, slowly falling apart rucksack. It was only a few of the books Penny had leant him from her family’s extensive library. They had stuff even the royal library didn’t have. If anything could help, Bunce family books would.

Baz took one of the books, running a hand over it. His expression was still blank and bored. He didn’t seem as interested as he should be. This could break his curse and set him free. Shouldn’t he be excited?

“I see,” he said. “You think the answer to my curse could be in one of these books?”

“Maybe.” Baz gave a skeptical look. Simon pulled in on himself. “I-I can’t be sure. Penny said there’s no ‘curse encyclopedia’ with every possible curse in it. We just have to look.”

Baz made a complicated face. Eyebrows knitted together, pouty lips downturned, but his eyes didn’t look angry or sad. Simon could almost swear he looked worried. Almost scared. But that couldn’t be right. What did Baz have to be worried about? This was a good thing. This was a chance for him to escape.

“Very well,” he said. “We better start reading then.”

Baz opened the book, carefully balancing it on his knee, away from his now sleeping pet swan. Simon simply nodded and opened his own book. The two fell into companionable silence. Simon tried to focus on the pages, but his eyes drifted upwards every once in awhile. Every time, Baz was still reading, and his face was still blank. But Simon still liked to look at him. Maybe it was some irrational fear over Baz suddenly disappearing. Maybe it was just because he was nice to look at. Simon didn’t think about it too much, and went back to reading.

———————————————

“Good gods, Simon,” David barked. “You look like a mess.”

Good morning to you too, Davy, Simon wanted to snap. Why the king thought that was a good way to greet his adopted son was beyond him. He did look like a mess though, but he had for weeks. The fact that David was only noticing now spoke volumes about his relationship with Simon.

“Apologies, Father,” Simon said quietly.

“Why do you look so disheveled?”

Because I’ve been spending most of my nights with a swan boy and the few hours I do sleep are plagued with weird nightmares, he thought. Saying it in his mind helped him resist the urge to say it out loud. “I’ve just been studying hard, that’s all. Working on my magic control.”

David shook his head. He did that a lot with Simon. “Very well. That is an area you definitely lack in.” Simon flinched slightly at the bite in his voice. David turned and gestured for Simon to follow.” Let’s get going. There’s someone you must see. Fix your jacket before we arrive.”

Simon trailed behind David, re-buttoning his brocade jacket as they went. Who would David want him to see? A visiting diplomat? Some influential lord? Either way, Simon was dfar too tired to deal with them.

They entered the grand hall together. Simon hand to bend around David to see. But when he did, a smile immediately burst across his face.

“Aggie!” He yelled. His heart immediately felt light and happy. Agatha grinned back at him. She looked amazing. Her skin was beautifully tanned, hair sun bleached near white. Obviously the far southern coast had treated her well. But he’d missed her so much, and he was so happy to her again.

Simon ran forward, eager to wrap his arms around his friends. Agatha ran as well. But that was quickly stopped.

“Simon!” David barked. “Behave yourself.”

“Agatha,” Lady Wellbelove said gravely.

Both the prince and the lady stopped in their tracks, though slid a bit on the polished floor. Simon hung his head with arms behind his back.

“Sorry, Father,” Simon said quietly.

“Apologies, Mother,” Agatha echoed.

“Greet the young Lady Wellbelove properly, Simon.”

Simon nodded. He straightened his posture, put one arm behind his back and the other over his stomach, and bowed deeply. “It’s a pleasure to see you, Lady Wellbelove. I hope you enjoyed your excursion.”

Agatha in turn held her skirt in both hands and curtsied properly. “Thank you, your highness. It’s an honour to be in your presence.”

That hit Simon in the gut. It shouldn’t be an honour for Agatha to see him. It should be normal. They were inseparable at school. Roght ow it felt like there was a wall of glass between them. They could see each other, but were forced apart. Simon hated that.

They straightened up, facing each other again. David and Lady Wellbelove had moved to right behind them both. David put a firm hand on Simon’s shoulder.

“We’re very happy to have you back in court, your ladyship,” he said. “We have much to discuss, Lady Wellbelove. Simon, you should show the young Lady around the castle. There have been some improvements she should see.”

Simon nodded. “Of course, Father.” Simon offered his arm like how he was taught. Agatha took it like she was taught. “Shall we, my lady?”

“We shall,” Agatha replied.

The pair walked off towards the main exit. Simon turned his head back slightly. He saw David and Lady Wellbelove with their heads together. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but whatever it was, it caused a rare smile on the king’s face. He turned back, and tried to think nothing of it.

Once Simon and Agatha were far out of sight and earshot, there was no more need for the glass wall. Simon wrapped his arms around Agatha in a crushing bear hug. He held her so tight her feet lifted from the ground. Agatha giggled and hugged him back just as hard.

“So glad you’re back, Aggie,” he said, muffled in her shoulder.

Agatha giggled. “Happy to be back, Si.”

He put her down, but hugged her for a bit longer. He was just so happy to see her after months away. He knew she wanted to go somewhere new after graduating school, but still, it hurt to not have her around. He missed his friend. They eventually pulled apart, enormous smiles on their faces.

“How have you been, Si?” she asked. “So much must’ve changed. Your hair has somehow gotten more wild.”

She ruffled his curls. He chuckled and playfully pushed her hand away. “Stop it, Ags. If someone points it out to David, he’ll make me cut it.”

“Oh what a tragedy. Simon Snow looking all courtly and royal.”

Simon grinned, both because of her teasing and her using his name. She liked to do that. It was her small way of telling Simon he was more than a prince to her. That his original name wasn’t totally gone just because King David said so.

“It would look terrible on me, trust me.” He offered his hand. Agatha took it. They walked down the grand hall together, swinging their arms back and forth. “So how was the south coast?”

Agatha sighed dreamily. “Oh, it was magical. The sea was sparkling blue, the sand was bright white, just gorgeous. I’d be happy staying there forever.”

Simon grinned. His heart felt warm. He was happy when his friends were happy. “Sounds incredible. I would love to see it one day. If David ever lets me out of princely duties.”

Simon meant it to be a joke, but Agatha’s face suddenly fell. Her pretty pink lips pressed together. She held Simon’s hand tighter. “Ags? What’s wrong? You alright?”

Agatha sighed heavily, then stopped out of nowhere. Simon stopped with her of course. She took his other hand. “Simon,” she said quietly, “do you know why I’m back?”

“Because...your trip is done. Right?”

“No,” she sighed, “it wasn’t. I was supposed to stay for another eight weeks. But Mother said I had to come back now. Before the winter ball.”

That was...weird. The winter ball? That was a fun court event, sure, but hardly a reason to cut a trip short. “W-Why?”

Agatha’s face got even more tense. She pulled Simon to a nearby stone bench. They sat together on the cold rock under a grand landscape picture of the countryside. It felt far too cheery for what seemed to be solemn conversation.

“Simon,” Agatha said, “my parents have been talking to King David a lot. All three have apparently agreed that the two of us, we’d be a good match. For marriage. And they want to announce the engagement at the winter ball.”

The world stopped spinning for a long moment. Simon felt his stomach drop, the whole organ plummeting down into the depths of the Earth itself. He knew he was looking at Agatha with incredibly wide eyes and mouth so large he’d catch flies. He just...he couldn’t believe it.

“What!?” he shouted. “They...they’re seriously planning for that?”

Agatha nodded solemnly. “That’s what my Mum says. They think that because we’re friends we’d make a good arranged match. I’m from a good noble house too, which helps. And, well, our children would have noble blood because of me. The court would like that.”

Because I’m still a commoner at heart, Simon thought. It was a painful but grounding truth. Dress him up in fancy coats, give him a crown, call him Prince, but deep down the court would always still think of him as Simon Snow, the little orphan with a rough accent and poor blood. Simon couldn’t blame them. He still thought of himself that way too. The only difference was that Simon never saw it as a bad thing.

Simon found himself nodding as well. “I see. But, Aggie, I just, I don’t, I’ve never thought-”

“Of me in that way?” Agatha ran a comforting hand over Simon’s. “Don’t worry, Si, me neither. I mean, I thought I did. We both did. But we both know how that worked out.”

Simon chuckled under his breath. Yeah, that embarrassment came back to haunt him occasionally. Memories of Agatha and Simon as two awkward fifteen year olds, holding hands for the first time, trying to make feelings they didn’t have magically appear, because everyone said they were cute. Other students cooed and awed. That didn’t help at all. But when the two finally kissed, just a sweet short peck, Agatha had been the first to say she didn’t feel anything. Simon had been relieved, because he didn’t feel anything either. They went back to friends, and it was the best decision they ever made. And now, they were being forced together once more. But this time there probably wouldn’t be a way out of it.

“Fuck,” Simon breathed. “This is bad.”

“Yeah agreed,” Agatha added.

“I’m not sure what to do.”

“Me neither."

Simon scratched his head. "We could ask Penny. She usually has the answers.”

“When it comes to magic? Yes. When it comes to matter of court? I don’t think so.”

They giggled. It was quiet, private. A joke between friends. That was all they were meant to be, friends. Simon knew that, as did Agatha. But here they were. Once they were done, both leaned against the wall, still holding hands.

“I don’t want this,” Agatha whispered, voice slightly strained, slightly angereed. “I don’t want to be the prize for a good deal my parents made with the king. I want to be with someone who chose me. I want them to love me. It sounds stupid, but...I want to be someone’s everything.”

Simon squeezed her hand. “It’s not stupid, Ags. I want someone to love me too. Hell, I definitely wouldn’t mind being someone’s everything.”

“Right? It would be fantastic. I’ve never felt anything close to that yet though. Have you?”

Simon shook his head. He couldn’t say he had. No one had ever made him feel like he was their everything. And no one had ever felt close to being his. The closest thing he’d had to that feeling, well, his obsession with finding Baz. The way it consumed his every waking thought and occasionally his sleeping ones to. But that was it. And that wasn’t an everything feeling, right?

“We should probably get back to them,” Agatha said. Simon could hear the sadness in her words. He squeezed her hand once more.

“Yeah. Not just yet, though.”

The corner of Agatha’s lip quirked up. “Okat not yet.”

And so the best friends sat there. Silent, worried, but happy to be next to each other again.

———————————————

Agatha and Lady Wellbelove left shortly after. Simon bid them proper farewells, a far cry from the crushing goodbye hug he gave Agatha before entering the ballroom again. Then he was brought with David into the King’s Study. David sat in his satin chair behind the large oak desk. Even though he was the one standing, Simon felt incredibly small.

“So,” David said smoothly, “I trust the young Lady Wellbelove has already informed you of the reason for her early arrival.” Simon nodded once. “Good. Then this discussion will be brief. There still needs to be some more negotiations, so the engagement announcement will be held off on until the winter ball.”

“Father, I-” Simon took a deep breath, trying to smooth out his cluttered thoughts. “Father, Aga- the Young Lady Wellbelove and I discussed this. And, to be honest...neither of us want this engagement. We’re very close friends but we aren’t in love each other like. We’d prefer it not to happen.”

David scoffed. Simon’s heart sank. “Love?” The King said the word like it was a terrible disease. “Simon, love is not important here. I’m creating a new laws, new ideals, a new dynasty. It will be your job to continue it, to make sure it goes beyond even the Pitches.” He said the old royal name with the same inflection as love. “So if marrying a friend you’re not in love with will assure that, so be it.”

“But, David-!”

“No buts, Simon. You can’t think with your heart. I haven’t, not ever, and look at all I’ve achieved.” He stretched both his arms out, indicating his beautiful study with lots of fancy cloths, shiny metals, and big books. All things Simon didn’t even like. “This will be good for us. And remember, I’m always ‘Father’, not David. I chose working for the good of the people over wife and child, so now I must have you, a ward. And we have to maintain the illusion of a bloodline. But a real, legitimate, noble one can happen with Lady Wellbelove. Your engagement will happen.” He sat back down, one leg crossed over the other. “That will be all, Simon. You’re dismissed.” He waved dismissively.

Simon’s anger spiked, and his skin burned with magic in response. He was pretty sure he would leave fingerprint shaped char marks in the wood. There was so much he wanted to say, but every word got clogged up in his throat. He felt stupid, useless, something David did to him far too much. The forgiving part of him reminded Simon that David still took him in. But he was so fucking angry right now.

“Bye, Father,” he spat, then turned on his heels and stormed out.

Simon stomped down the echoey hallways, grumbling and wiping furious tears from his eyes. He was so angry. Angry at David, at court, at his position, at every stupid thing this stupid princehood entailed. Never had he wanted to be a real commoner again more than right now. He couldn’t do that now. But tonight, while he sat in a lake with a mysterious boy, he would be. Simon could not wait until the sun set.

———————————————

AN: Another short chapter, but some plot advancement! The whole engagement thing will be explored more in the next chapter. Since I'm posting a fic for Baz's birthday next Monday, I'll be posting Chapter 6 on Tuesday instead. So a little longer wait, sorry. I'll see you guys next time :D

EDIT: I'm an idiot who cannot tell time. Baz's birthday is on Sunday not Monday so nvm I'll be posting the next chapter on Monday as usual :)

[cherokeegal1975]

Unexpected Cargo, Ch. 2

Refuge       Little Girl landed tiredly next to him on the steep sandy grade a few yards away from the cave entrance.  Goldie leapt off of her withers and onto Johnny's back as he lay prone with his forehead pressed against his left forearm, trying not to vomit as the cramp subsided.       "Get up!" Goldie squeaked urgently in his ear as Little Girl pushed him with her wet muzzle, dampened with tears of fear and worry, soaking the cloth of his robes as she started to cry again.  "They are too far away to see us, but I can still hear their noisy engines coming our way."       Johnny shifted and Goldie jumped off his back.  He tried to breathe as slowly and deeply as he could.  He had already retched up everything in his stomach several miles back.  The next time, a couple of miles later, he only got the dry heaves.  As his queasy stomach began to settle, he made it to his hands and knees when he felt a warm and sensual ball of electric heat formed in his lower abdomen.  It spread rapidly in a matter of seconds to every part of his being, causing him to shudder uncontrollably while it held him in its thrall.  Just as abruptly the sensation had come, it vanished and he felt better.  No upset stomach and no bad cramps.       The whole experience lasted only a moment and Johnny was finally able to stagger to his feet unassisted.  Somehow he knew the sudden attacks were over and that he would be fine now. Little Girl shape shifted back into her human child form so she could fit more easily through the cave's opening and swung the satchel over one bare slender shoulder.  As it was often her custom, she went nude (since clothes could not change with her), finding clothes unnatural, impractical and confining.  Generally, the only time she put on clothes was when they went to town, which Johnny insisted on for her own safety.       Goldie went into the cave ahead of them, eager to be inside before the sandstorm she knew was coming in about an hour's time.  It was another survival adaptation that made desert rats such useful companions to those who had them.  Johnny entered the cave himself behind Little Girl's slight frame.  He had to duck and squeeze through the crack in the rock, snagging his robes and his loose pants before he could make it through.       Once inside, the passage opened up immediately to a spacious room with a small crack in the ceiling that let in daylight and could serve as a smoke hole should anyone need to build a fire.       He paused only a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimness of the cave, then walked straight back to where Little Girl and Goldie crouched at the edge of a small spring in the stone floor.  With a sigh of relief, he knelt between them, pulled back his sleeves and reached out with his hands to the gently rippling surface of the life sustaining water.       He glimpsed his dim wavering reflection in the pool before he cupped his hands to fill them with water and drank, reliving his parched throat.  He resisted the urge to gulp it down as a precaution against upsetting his stomach again.  The stubble on his face was prickling his hands as he drank and he thought he needed a shave.  He hadn't managed one since the day before yesterday.       Johnny was dusky skinned with fine and sharp angles in his features, high cheekbones, fine black brows, high arched nose, big liquid black eyes with long black eyelashes and full masculine lips.  He was handsome, even charming when he tried.  His hair was covered with head dress made of a reddish brown cloth that was held in place with a woven black head band.  Under it his shining black hair was long enough to fall all the way to his feet.  He kept it bound in a tight bun at the base of his skull most of the time to keep it out of the way.  It was considered to be a sign of strength and masculinity for a man to never cut his hair, a tradition he had adopted soon after joining his tribe as a boy.       His body was long, lean and hard muscled.  His long fingered hands were strong and callused from years of rough work.  He could never get fat, what he didn't work off, the desert sun seemed to sear away.       Little Girl in her human form was similarly lean and hard muscled.  Her skin was golden brown and her nearly waist length wavy and curly auburn hair glistened with golden highlights.  Her eyes were large with chocolate brown irises, fine brows, full pinkish lips and the general cast of her facial features was rounded, angelically perfect and amazingly gorgeous.       In her dragon form she was also quite beautiful.  Elongated triangular head with powerful jaws, almost raptor beak shaped lips and dog like teeth with the upper canine elongated just enough for the tips to protrude slightly.  Powerfully muscled all over, with a horse like neck, lizard ears, large cat eyes the color of topaz with hints of light emerald green in the centers.  Each eye was protected by a single thick and smooth bony brow ridge.  Her hard scales, smooth as a serpent's, were a deep goldenrod color that blended well with the hues of the desert.  Most dragons have snake-scoot like armor plates that run from just under their chin all the way down to just past the base of their tails.  However, Little Girl's kind didn't have that particular feature; she was just smooth scales all over.       An unusual feature of her species is that the females have a marsupial like pouch to carry their eggs and young.  Her powerful hind limbs were slightly longer than her forelimbs, the better to jump into the sky.  Another feature unique to her species was the reddish brown feathered eagle wings and soft fur like feather mane that ran all the way from the top of her head to her withers that stood straight up.  Along the top of her tail she had a similar strip of feathers from the base to its tip.  Both were the same color as her hair in human form, only in her true form, the golden highlights were iridescent metallic gold colored patterns.       Little Girl's feet closely resembled monkey paws with sharp curved dark brown claws with rough scales on the bottoms that gave her better grip for climbing.  Her forepaws were every bit as nimble as a human's hands.  Her head, wings and feet looked slightly too big for her.  Her head was just a bit more rounded and softer in appearance than the adult dragon's.  As she aged to maturity her features would harden into a fiercer countenance and her body parts would look less ill proportioned.       And Goldie?  Well, she just looked like a big healthy and slightly plump rat the size of a small domestic cat.  Her shining fur was her most unusual feature, even for her kind.  It was a golden, streaked here and there with copper and bronze without being metallic in hue.  The bare skin on her tail, slightly enlarged ears, feet and nose were brownish with pink undertones.  She had another unusual feature for a rat, her forepaws were actually hands.  She was quite lovely in her own way.       Her black beady eyes, the way she moved and interacted with her environment, belied her high intelligence.  Desert rats were magical creatures with talents for food and water detection, weather sense, teleportation and human speech, though not all bothered to learn to speak a human language of any kind, preferring their own rat language.  The exception to this was the companion rats living with some of the nomadic tribes of the deep Red Sands Desert.  Constant close contact with humans, who treated them with kindness, respect and spoiled them rotten made them want to be more helpful and communicative with their human friends.       They were tough and well adapted to their desert environment.  They could go for days without water just by getting moisture from the plants and animals they ate.  They were amazingly good swimmers and had a special magic that prevented them from drowning.  They could remain immersed in water for days by using their magic to form an air bubble over their noses and mouths that constantly replenished itself from the oxygen in the water.  This saved them from drowning in the lowlands when it sometimes flooded during the rainy season, as they could accidently be swept away in the torrential waters that nearly always originated in the distant mountains to the east.  This magical talent also enabled them to hunt for small aquatic cave creatures like blind fish, small cave shrimp and salamanders.       Another odd trait of her kind was their extreme longevity.  Normal mundane rats averaged about two years in their life span, desert rats could live eighty or more years.  They were not as prolific since they didn't need to be.  They mated as often as they wished any time of the year, but females only became fertile once every three years.  When they did have litters, they often did it in a big way, having as many as fifteen pups at a time.       The odd family trio took their time drinking from the spring until they finally got their fill.       "Ahhh," Johnny sighed after dabbing his hands and mouth dry on his sleeves.  He sat back on his heels as his two family members finished drinking.       They were all exhausted and in need of food and rest.  Johnny wondered what was in the satchel Little Girl had been carrying for so long through the sky.  He hoped she had at least managed to steal some food from the camp because he hadn't eaten since yesterday morning.  He was pleased to note that his current gastric discomfort was mere hunger and not the bad cramps and nausea head been enduring the past week.  He was feeling better and better by the moment in spite of being so tired.       "What's in the bag?" Johnny asked Little Girl as she too sat back on her heels, facing him as she did so.       She wrapped her small arms around her legs and leaned her chin onto her knees.  She looked up at him with those big liquid eyes and answered with a regretful sigh, "Not much.  Just the royal seal in its box, a few ration bars and some tubers I managed to dig up a few miles back.  I was looking for the charmed mirror grandmother gave you,  but I think I found it smashed with the other things the guards broke.  One of the men almost saw me and Goldie wanted me to hurry up.  So I hid and started singing so she could help you."       Johnny smiled at Little Girl's thoughtfulness and practicality.  "You and Goldie did alright, baby girl.  Though I would not have been upset if you left the royal seal behind.  Just this once I wouldn't have minded not being able to fulfill my contract with Princess Elena.  That seal is more trouble than it's worth."       "You're not mad?" Little Girl said as she stared at him with wide eyes.  She looked surprised and half pleading for him not to be angry with her.       "No, not this time," Johnny said affectionately as he reached out and tucked a loose strand of her silken hair behind her right ear.  Then he waved an admonishing finger at both of them and added with a gentle smile, "Just don't make disobeying me a habit.  I would rather you two stayed safe."       "It was my idea to come back after dark," Goldie said stubbornly.  "If she hadn't come with me I would have done what I could alone."       Johnny smiled and stroked Goldie's head with love and gratitude.  "Thanks both of you, I don't know when I could have escaped if you had not come back for me."       Johnny stood and retrieved the dark brown satchel and passed out the sweet potato like tubers the purple berry thorn bushes grew and the three ration bars between them.  As they ate, Johnny tried to think of what to do next through the increasing sleepiness that was slowly dragging him down.  After a few moments he could think of nothing else but to go back home to his family.  He'd been putting it off, fearing the royal guards would follow him even there, but now he saw no better option.       Johnny could hear the increasingly strong wind howling outside through the cave entrance and the small crack in the ceiling.  He looked up and saw the flying sand that was rapidly dimming what little of the morning light that managed to filter its way through the crack.  Good, their pursuers won't be able to hunt them in this weather.       "Goldie, I need to get a message to Mom," Johnny asked, as his rat nibbled on a piece of ration bar.  He didn't have much hope that Goldie would make it to his mother's tent just now.  Storms could interfere with certain spells, especially when a big electrical charge was built up in the atmosphere.  Teleportation was just one of those spells that were affected negatively by fouled weather.       Goldie regarded him thoughtfully over her piece of ration bar with her beady black eyes.  Then she tilted her head back and stood up on her hind legs, looking up and through the crack in the ceiling.   Long whiskers twitching, she tested the air with all her senses, detecting things only she could with her magic.         Then she dropped back down to her heels and looked at him.  "Can't do it.  I promise to go when the storm passes.  It will blow itself out in a few hours.  What is your message?"       "I need you to bring us home.  My sand ship has been captured and vandalized by Prince Richard's guards and they are still hunting us.  We are hiding in the Crack in the Rock Spring Cave."  Johnny paused to think of anything else to tell his mother.  Then he thought better of it, best to keep the message short and tell her everything when she found them.  "That should do for now."       "I can remember that," Goldie nodded and then resumed nibbling on her bit of ration bar.       They tried to make themselves comfortable as possible on the cool and uneven cave floor to get some sleep and wait out the storm.  Little Girl stretched out next to him in her full dragon form, hugging him and flipping a huge wing over him like a blanket.  Goldie snuggled under Little Girl's wing and made herself comfortable on Johnny's belly.       Little Girl and Goldie were soon fast asleep, but in spite of his exhaustion he found it difficult to fall asleep himself.  His mind refused to stop working.  How has his life turned out so right and so wrong at the same time? 

(This book can be bought on Amazon either as a paper back book or as a Kindle.  Just type in Unexpected Cargo by Meriah Smith and it will pop right up.)