#i actually really like this charm but also i like creatures and i like gloves

[cowsaresushi-coral]

mmmmmmm my taste in men (characters)

[fangirltothefullest]

Okay but now what if how you designed Remus but in as many words as you want, because I'm loving these design breakdowns

HELL YEAH!

Remus to me is full of chaos but he is also the antithesis of Roman with similar qualities but a total lack of self consciousness or bashfulness. He is freedom and he gives no shits.

Inspiration 1: Mad Madam Mim

I start with a disney character full of chaos and I am inspired by mad Madam Mim because she is wild and chaotic and i absolutely love how fun she is as a villain and the most important thing for me is that Remus is fun. He's bonkers and has terrible ideas but he's also harmless in terms of reality. He's like an annoying little brother that wants to show you the Weird Gunk he found in the trash.

Inspiration 2: Snidley Whiplash (or Dick Dastardly)

Remus to me is a guy who knows a lot of things and he's actually really clever but he wants to BE a villain like Snidley Whiplash or Dick Dastardly, including the moustache. He wants to tie people to train tracks because it's fun. His personality is "I found the dynamite and the roller skates! :D"

Inspiration 3: Wile E Coyote and looney tunes as a concept

If Remus is anything it's a creature that can be stabbed in the eye and come back fine. It's a person who can make acme-like contraptions that do not work and that's ok. He is, if nothing else, Wile E Coyote and he is having the time of his life. He should therefore have hair that is a littler wild and crazy and untamable like Wile E's tail.

Inspiration 3: Royal villains

We will look at Galavant and also OUaT again!

There's nothing quite as detailed in costume as evil royal villains. They always seem to be the most extravagant or at least have all the buckles and things and Remus has an outfit just the same. Like Roman I want his royalty to show with his clothes but unlike Roman I want Remus to look way less put together. More a culmination of his clothes he chooses to wear but only because he HAS to wear something so he's going to show skin.

Particularly though the one I associate with Remus is Captain Hook from Once Upon a Time.

Inspiration 4: Captain Hook / Pirate aesthetics

Roguish, half-opened shirt, details, dressed fancy, swashbuckling. Remus would make a great pirate because he has the swagger and charm of a drunken man sailing a boat with a pet giant octopus he calls Lil Pussy.

Speaking of octopus...

Inspiration 5: Kraken and hentai

He has an octopus on his belt and he deserves tentacles for a pirate feel but also for fuckin. Cause he's a raunchy bastard. Anything taboo is something he wants to think about.

Inspiration 6: Punk aesthetic

What easier way top buck against the norms than to embrace punk vibes? Jewelry, upside-down crosses, I don't like going overboard with it but I like giving him some. Fingerless gloves, chokers with spikes, those kinds of things work well for his "I am everything your religious grandmother hates, embrace it". His outfits that aren't standard could look like he made them himself or found them in the garbage and went "awesome!"

Inspiration 7: Weapon Master

Remus likes to hit things with his mace and while Roman has his sword, I imagine Remus is an expert at weapons or at least likes to use them so even if I am going to dress him up nice I want a weapon nearby somewhere.

Things that are a must:

So many details, Remus will not leave your eyeballs alone. If you think Roman has details nope, Remus wants your eyes to bleed with them.

Remus should have longer hair than Roman, wilder bangs and wilder curls. Shorter hair is fine but a ponytail is even more fun. Like the tie holding it'll break at any moment.

Weapons galore, arm this baby at every opportunity. Likewise, scars are acceptable but it's ok if they disappear at random because chaos loves chaos.

If Remus has his main garb off he should be showing skin to the best of his abilities and his collar should drape down wider than normal because let that man be a slut.

Tentacles should be numerous when shown and they should have a mind of their own doing whatever they want.

If Roman wouldn't wear it, Remus would. If Roman wouldn't think it, Remus would, and if Roman would be disgusted, Remus would love it.

Remus should have annoying little brother vibes.

Any non-standard outfits should look like he cobbled them together with duct tape and chewing gum.

So I came to this:

[pinyatapix]

i never played Concord nor had interest in it but i felt an insatiable drive to redesign all of its characters before the game shut down ever since i saw how absolutely dripless they were

anyways here’s my scuffed ass sketches of the gang. i was originally going to finish these all before the game’s shutdown but i was so stuck on Teo that it took 6 extra days rip me. also i cant draw guns. these are all first drafts so expect them to change a bit if i feel like drawing em again

more info on these designs below (warning i yap a lot)

Itzi (i am not calling her “It-Z” cuz it reads rly weird and i can imagine someone bri’ish calling her “It-Zed” it’s so dumb): Wanted to make her more of a goofy lil gremlin creature, like some combo between a jerboa chameleon and raptor, to make her more appealing and interesting, imagine being shot to death by this silly little scamp. Everyone loves Ivy Deadlock for her gremlin charm so maybe they’d love Itzi too if she had that as well. Her chest has a hole in it containing the weird ball she throws to teleport and shit, because a Concord critique by TBSkyen said that a character’s powers should appear on their physical design or whatever, also to show that she got mutated in a freaky space storm

Bazz: nothing about her reads as “agile deadly knife-throwing assassin”, especially with that annoying puffy bright red coat, she looks completely stupid running around doing backflips with that thing on! So i made it a more sharper mysterious black coat she wears like a cape to give her that sense of shadowy agility like a phantom thief, which she keeps all her carbon steel knives all neatly stored in. Gave her a slight diamond motif on the coat and the glasses because it felt elegant and sharp. Thought her hairstyle kinda fucked hard so i kept it but made it a bit more pointier and added a little stylish side swoop.

Lennox: i actually love this guy’s voice acting and the slightly manic goofy personality it had but his design did NOT fit the voice, so fuck it im making him even more of a lizard man than they were trying to do. His self-healing ability is him shedding a bit of skin after it took damage, and his “splodey knife” is probably a back scale spine he yoinks out of his back that can explode because it’s a biological property of his species for some reason. I do not know what clothes to give him

Lark: Discarded all semblance of a humanoid silhouette to make them even more of a weird mushroomy alien. I don’t really have much to say but i can easily see them slithering around like an octopus on land but faster. Their gun would look way more like some organic fungal creation

Haymar: not much changes here but i wanted to make her more mystic and “wizardy”. The “fireballs” she uses as her main ammo are now a floating bead necklace rotating around her neck (kinda like that zen robot from overwatch) and her clothes now have more of a slight flame motif, along with more of a mystic vibe. Got rid of those ugly ass mustard sneakers too of course

Daw: gave him more turtle motifs to match his “turtle-esque” gameplay style by giving him a protective hoodie and turning his “healing pad” pack into a bulky turtleshell backpack (he’s also wearing a turtleneck sweater shirt underneath the coat lol). His coat is somewhat translucent like shiny plastic cuz i thought it would look neat, tried to ditch the goofy-ass jumpsuit thing he had by giving him a belt to separate shirt and pants. Not too sure if i made him appear enough as a medic as that’s his main thing, the coat and gloves could probably help but idk, but i adjusted his personality presentation to be more easygoing and warmhearted with the closed-eyes so maybe that could give a healer energy.

Duchess: old ladies who know how to kick ass are rly cool. her whole thing’s making walls and constructs out of this golden gooey energy but nothing in her design tells you about that, so i decided to give her a cape/cloak made of that same golden essence so that it’s more apparent on what she can use it for, it also makes her appear more like royalty which was prolly what they were going for. Kept the haircut cuz that beehive thing was very goofy but it fits the vibe of everything else

Roka: she looked like a blowup sexdoll version of Master Chief which is… very cursed, and it tells nothing about her being able to fly around and stomp on people, so i made her bug themed! She’s like a cross between a wasp and dragonfly, the bulletproof wings are rocket-powered and can fully rotate the other direction to give her a forward boost of momentum to stomp people with her slightly more exaggerated boots, they also neatly fold away when she’s not flying. She’s rockin’ that tokusatsu hero look, it gives her a lot more energy to her personality.

Daveers: hated drawing them and i feel unsatisfied but i do like what ideas i had for them. Gave them more of a “sketchy mad scientist” vibe and personality with a shit-eating grin and all that, also tried to give them a “test tube contraption” thing going on by having their helmet be entirely glass and there being tubes and bottles all over their baggy jumpsuit full of poisons and chemicals. Gave them a spray-can backpack that stores all their toxic sludge tho im not too sure if it fits the rest of them or not… whatever. Tried giving them a chemical burn mark on one half of their face but it’s blending in with the hair rip

Jabali: he’s a healer whose powers come from “his own pulse”, but the weird pacemaker thing on his heart is the only way of knowing that so i made him waaaayyy more heart themed! His cool-ass hat’s got a blood cell design on it, his coat’s got a vein pattern, his shoulder pads look like aortas and arteries, i think his dreadlock ponytail could also match the aorta look. I seriously felt that vibe of the cool badass black guy with the glasses and coat and wide tippable hat needed to be enhanced even more, he had all the ingredients to be one stylish mfer but they weren’t mixed in properly, depressing.

Vale: i was racking my head on what to do with her because the only thing going on with her was “sniper” and “bionic legs”, but i decided to make her a “scrapper” like what they called Emari in that one short by turning that “burlap sack hobo” look she originally had into more of a defining feature as something recycled from a bunch of scrap she collected. Turned her “how do you do fellow kids” backwards hat into a slick bandana that has her sniper goggles attached to it, made her braids/dreadlocks into a cool ponytail befitting of a sniper though i wished i decorated them with more stuff other than the power plugs at some of their tips, like nuts and bolts acting as hair beads. Her bionic legs are also more heavily emphasized here, she’s like 70% leg like Byakuya Togami Danganronpa and that makes her a bit more taller than most, i can see her running around with them rly fast also they have large springs in them for extra jump (also they matched those spring like curly tips in her og hairstyle)

Emari: tried to make her bulky armor even more like it’s made of scrap like the “scrapper” she is, tho since i kinda suck at mechanical greebling she looks very cluttered and hard to read. I tried putting cute little stickers and graffiti on her armor to give her more of a fun-loving vibe despite her imposing build, felt like she’d decorate her armor for fun. Gave her helmet a visor to give her some cool toughness and added lil things on it reminiscent of bear ears cuz her silhouette needed a lil something. Problem i have with drawing her is that her silhouette ended up looking too similar to 1-0FF’s redesign, it really needs some fixing cuz it’s pretty damn rough.

Kyps: she could’ve served so much cunt but she didn’t, so i needed to change that. To match her invisibility powers as a spy i themed her off of chameleons and mirrors — i un-balded her for improved silhouette by giving her a hairstyle similar to a chameleon tail (tho it also looks like a glass Prince Rupert’s drop and mirrors are also glass), gave her “earrings” similar to mirror handles, made her coat a lot longer and have it slightly reminiscent of fractured or cut glass, give it a coattail like a chameleon tail, and tried giving faint patterns on the clothes and especially the tied that gives a sort of “shimmery” kinda vibe??? She’s reminding me a lot of Inteleon right now

1-0FF: actually my favorite out of the redesigns, he was so tricky to do but i think i got him pretty right. Wanted him to appear even more of a friendly recycling bot toughened up by constant battle, replaced that menacing eye of his with a friendly smile on a screen (that i took from an app icon from my ipad out of laziness lol) and gave him little symbols of recycling like little sprout iconography and a recycling symbol heart, though as contrast to all that i gave him scars and battle damage so you know he kicks ass. Still wanted to keep the trashcan look so his head kinda resembles those trashcans with the spinny rotating lids, tried my best to make the rest of the body also trashcanny. Turned that vacuum gun of his into a megaman-type arm gun because why did they make it a separate component that’s so stupid.

Starchild: turned him from a rip-off Guardians of the Galaxy character into something more like a rock monster guy since his main ability's called Diamond Skin and it does.... guess what. I put crystals on different parts of his body and I thought about the "hair" on his body being made of those weird fuzzy kinds of crystals (realized it was a missed opportunity to give him chest hair rip). Wanted to make his name "Star Child" a lot more literal by inspiring him off of a shooting star, which is why I gave him that plume of smoke for hair. Since he's a (former) proud tribal warrior guy I wanted his design to lean more heavily into that by giving him tattoos that are like geometric stone carvings??? and giving him clothes and jewelry that give a sort of non-existent tribal culture vibe, his clothes also have a sort of bismuth pattern to them.

Teo: okay this fucker was the reason why I did not finish this. His design was so unimaginably boring that it was very difficult to come up with a "twist" for him while still having him be the standard shooty guy. Days later I immediately thought "Space Dandy" and decided to make him be way more flamboyant with a pompadour as his main feature, befitting of the "goofy space adventure" vibe this game tried and failed to capture. In my head his backstory was that he was raised from birth to be a regular ass disposable space soldier, leaving the army much much later to pursue a quest for self-identity... the identity he chose for himself being that of an over-the-top galactic popstar. I imagine his "Smoke Bomb" ability being glittering colorful smoke instead, like a popstar entering the stage out of artificial smoke clouds.

okay I'm tired. i am cooler than playstation. goodbye

[madsfrank]

'*•.¸♡ 𝕬 𝕾𝖍𝖔𝖙 𝕲𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝕭𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖇𝖔𝖓 𝕻𝖙. 2 ♡¸.•*'

-ˏˋ Directory ˊˎ -ˏˋ AU ˊˎ -ˏˋ Pt. 1 ˊˎ -ˏˋ Pt. 3 ˊˎ

Pairing II Cowboy! Carlos x Fem! Reader

SFW II Angst, Fluff, City-themed reader

WC II 1.7k

Content II X reader, country motif, ranch, farmland

Synopsis II Living with your relatives in the country wasn’t going to be easy. Your nearest neighbor was a rancher a few miles down and better yet, her cows constantly got loose on your property. Maybe the only plus side was the young ranch hand who came to retrieve them.

Just like you predicted, the muffled caws shook you from your slumber. The rooster had awoken extra early, you think, just for you. How…great.

The sun had barely risen above the horizon as you got up to peer through your blinds. It’s early rays drew everything across the ranch in this pale, golden glow. Almost as if everything was in a haze.

Slipping off your nightgown, you carefully selected a pair of jeans and a flannel you wouldn’t mind getting dirty from one of your traveling bags. Two months here would also mean a new set of ranch clothes soon.

You family was already awake. Making themselves coffee and throwing on their boots. Your uncle offered you some dark roast, which you gladly accepted. Coffee wasn’t always your favorite, but something about the chill of a morning this early and the scent of the land around you made it all the more appealing.

After your core had been warmed, your aunt tossed you a work hat. Your first gift on the ranch. You nearly chuckled, the hat was a cowgirl hat! Did they actually wear these on a daily basis?

The answer was yes, as your aunt slipped on her own and led you to the stables.

Your families ranch had a multitude of building, but the stables had to be the most ornate. They were painted like a classic barn, with a tall roof and heavy oak doors. It was furthest from the house, butting up to old wooden fence post, connecting your property to your neighbors.

“Now I know your excited to meet Rosie, so I figure I’ll start you off by familiarizing you two. Why don’t you take that brush over there,” she pointed to a shelf within the stable, “and giver ‘er a good brushing.”

You nodded, making your way over to Rosie’s part of the stable as your aunt headed off to the chicken coop.

Her sliver coat was impeccable, it was short, but yet wonderfully patterned and you began to wonder how any animal could form something so beautiful.

Taking the brush, you slowly approached her. The Turkoman was gentle as could be, easing down so you could have access to her neck.

She took to you well. You moved slow and calmly. All the while cooing the creature. You had become so invested in caring for her that you failed to realized the bells approaching the nearby fence.

“MMMMMOOOOOOO”

The noise startled you, and made you squeak, earning a neigh from Rosie.

When you moved out from the stable, you saw a caw had made it’s way into your property, you assumed through a break in the fence a few feet down.

“Just who are you now?” You smiled, the cow looked back at your with big, brown doe eyes.

“Hey new-girl!”

A young man was pacing toward you at the fence. Stopping to catch his breath at the post.

“Sorry for bothering you miss, my mama’s cows don’t really listen to our herd dogs.

You looked up at the man. He was young. About your age, with long curly locks that seemed to cover his eyes almost entirely.

He was big too, well-built from years of labor. A pair of leather gloves covered the hands that leaned against your fence.

You stared at the man for a moment, there was a certain charm to him you couldn’t place, almost as if he talked too loosely for a stranger.

“Oh no, it’s alright, I was just taken care of the horses,” you pointed to Rosie.

He leaned forward on the fenced and lifted one of his hands flat in the air.

“Well, it’s still my cow, new-girl. I didn’t want her to cause no trouble,” he chuckled.

“So I guess we’re neighbors, huh?”

“That depends, You livin’ here?”

“For the summer.”

He stood up again, smiling slightly before dipping into thought.

“Not gonna lie new-girl, I feel like I’ve seen you before…” he questioned.

“Well, I used to come around here as a kid. I’m staying with my aunt and uncle.”

“(Y/n)?”

He knew who you were?

“Yeah that’s me.”

The neighbor’s smile then grew warm.

“It’s me, Carlos. Miss Oliveira’s kid. One of ‘em,” he was practically beaming with excitement now, recognizing you almost instantly.

You remembered Carlos now, one of they brothers you sometimes played with as a kid.

“You’re one of the boys then, huh?”

“All that’s left. Rico is still here, we help mama around the ranch. Some of my older brothers got their own place now or went off to work.”

You looked past him into his property. It spanned forth miles. Embracing the large stone and board ranch house. It was much wider than your own, with thick smoke puffing out from the chimney.

Carlos noticed your action and moved out of your line of sight.

“Haven’t changed much. Mama keeps that fire going every mornin’ and night since I was little. You prolly remember that.”

You changed your sight to look back at him.

“I remember you and your brothers would race each other down the hill over there.” You pointed to a long dip into his property, spanning the length of it’s southwest side.

Carlos scoffed a bit, shaking his head like he was remembering his childhood years.

“So where have you been all these years, (y/n)?”

“I’ve been away for collage, back home in New York.”

“Yeah, I remember you being a city girl. Didn’t you once end up hitching a ride on mama’s cows?”

Your face turned beat red from embarrassment and you angled your head to the grass.

“Oh, uh—yeah. That was me. Heh,” your voice was shaky and quiet. Obviously reminded of how embarrassed you were to be cleaned up by your neighbor’s mom.

Carlos could sense he asked something wrong and quickly corrected himself.

“N-no! I mean it was cute…er like, you know, like kids do.” Now he was embarrassed.

You cleared your throat and realized that you were both dodging each others gaze.

“Well I should—”

—get going”

You both spoke at once, apologizing profusely.

He nodded, spoke a quick goodbye and turned on his heel to leave. Meaning you were back to taking care of Rosie. Cooing her once more.

By the time you had finished conversing. Your aunt had come to collect you for more tasks throughout the day. None quite as interesting as your chat with Carlos.

You quickly followed your aunt and uncle across the property, serving for your orientation.

Shoveling shit was the worst. The pitchforks you had to use were old and splintered, but, your aunt had promised you would get to herd afterwords. She said it was just like all those old cowboy movies too.

After piling the goat crap into a bucket and removing it, your uncle met you at the heavy wooden doors.

“Well,” he hummed, “since I reckon you take to Rosie so well, how about you take ‘er out herding. Your aunt will show y’a how.”

You were practically beaming with excitement as uncle Mark led you back to the stables. He began to explain how to saddle her. Taking one of your aunts saddles from off the wall and securing it. He also changed Rosie’s stirrups into a custom set-up that you wouldn’t struggle with.

“Now, you were too little last time you were here, so your aunt will teach you some basics on how to ride. For now…hop on.” He pat Rosie behind the saddle and handed her off to you.

After hooking your leg around the saddle, Rosie began to strut off to the open land, heavy with different kinds of goats all running about.

Clara met you halfway from the house, on an older morgan she called Missy. She thought you how to control Rosie through example, all the while strutting forward into the open field of goats.

“Don’t give her too much pressure on the bit now. Just keep ‘er head up a little…like that, you’re a fast learner, girl!” Your aunt cheered.

You and Rosie were agreeable, it helped that the horse already knew what to do. She wrapped around one side of the field and your aunt took the other.

“Now,” She shouted, “the goal is to get them heading to the barn. Take the side opposite to me, circle ‘em, ‘n turn the herd around.”

The pair of you were off, making quick work of shifting the herd. Rosie already knew what to do, making your work rather simple. Aunt Clara led while you followed. Moving the goats orderly. Returning them to the barn.

Rosie kept to the rear the whole time, up till the barn doors has closed.

“That was fun!” You laughed, cheering for yourself.

Aunt Clara praised you, having learned so quickly. She helped you off the horse right after, and guided you both back to the stables.

“Saw you talking to the neighbors boy,” she prodded, “he’s a cute one, and a hard worker too. Takes care of most of that property for his family.”

You didn’t know why, but you found yourself blushing as you recollected your time spent with Carlos. You found yourself commenting on how nice it was to speak to him.

“I’ll tell you what,” your aunt paused for a moment, “I have some extra goat’s milk…I’ll have you send it down. Give you a chance to catch up with ‘em.”

You found yourself blushing once again and agreed. Had you really enjoyed talking to him that much?

Most of the mornings tasks were over now, leaving you and your aunt to return to the farmhouse while she began packing up goat’s milk in some ribbon.

“Why don’t you go get changed, hon. Can’t have you lookin a mess.” She winked.

A wave of nerves washed over you as you returned to your room to clean yourself up, suddenly worried about meeting his mom and him again. Would She remember you? Your head was spinning with thoughts about what you would say or how you would act when-

“Well hurry up now! Milk ain’t getting any colder!”

[the-scribe-and-her-scribbles]

I tried to choose one part that I wanted you to talk about but they're all so good I couldn't choose 😭 So instead, here's a ⭐ to talk about the part you've been dying to talk about

Warning! This gets steamy towards the end!!!

----------

I think I really want to talk about feral!Gilbert.

I have a lot of thought on how I wanted to write the Fae/unseen folk. I wanted the fae-folk to have something off about them. Just that when a human were to look at them for long enough you could catch a glimpse of something else, or maybe a lack of something, like how the closer you look the less you actually see.

I wanted it to be very clear that Gilbert is not human. He’s a fae, a creature, a monster. Not some fairy prince.

In the unseen seen world, Gilbert’s body and soul are at home, so to speak, so he has an easy time holding in his true form, especially when he’s around you.

In fact most civilized fae are able to hold back the feral creatures the the wild magic makes them, even if for some it’s harder then others.

He loves you. And he loves you in a way that is gentle for his kind, with soft touches and vigilant eyes that keep you safe in their view. These are the tame parts of him, the places he keep separate from what the wild magic makes him, the parts he’s kept alive only for you. He loves you, and he doesn't want to upset you, so the charming, almost normal side of him is still of use to him.

But he's still fae, he's still a monster, and this means he loves you in all the dark and sharp ways too.

He would never hurt you, his soul wouldn’t let him, but his soul also drives him towards you like a wounded animal on bloody paws. His limbs bloody and aching, pain at the back of his mind as he throws himself, drags himself closer to you.

He’s a fae and you're his soulmate, his other half, so your his.

(Why couldn’t he keep you? He’d keep you safe, oh so safe. And well fed and well fucked. You’d love it if you were his. He would bring you any clothing or jewelry you could think of, he’d build you a library where you could sit and read forever, he’s even go get you that half-fae, Basil, that you met in Arbourly, to bring you novels from that human world you love so much. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you if it meant he could keep you, so let him, let him, l̴̰̮͎͈͠e̴̩̰̥̋̍̐̏t̴̝̱̒̿ ̷͕̚ḫ̴̱̤̗́i̷̩͛̍̈́͝m̵̮̓.)

If Maus does manage to get back to her human world, Gilbert isn't staying behind. Just because you're back home, doesn't mean your free of him.

Unlike in the Unseen world, Gilbert has a much harder time blending in. He rarely ever had to visit before you, and the mortal air messes with him. When his magic seeps out, its far more noticeable. His pale form seems to flicker in and out when not looking directly at him. You can almost see something else in his place, darker and smokey, whipping away at the edges like ash.

And Gilbert acts different too... more intense. He's almost aways there, following you. Either from far back behind you, (you think he like pretending to stalk you) or right at your side, holding your arm in his and helping you to where you need to go.

He's lingering, appearing in your room and around corners, unable to keep his hands to himself. He's rubbing his hands up the sides of your arm and whispering soft things to you. Other times, he's grabbing at you (you can swear you feel claws when he does.) He's still kind, just protective? possessive? Nipping at your cheeks and neck. If you aren't wearing gloves, he's even kissing and nipping your wrists. Muttering about how 'they(???) keep coming loose', how he'll have to give you more.

So he gives you things. Kisses and affections, small trinkets and foods, because he's a fae, and they gain little tethers with the humans they give favours too. He doesn't do it to lord over you or control you, just to protect you, keep tied to you, strengthen the ties that he already has from your deal you made all that time ago, and to protect your soul-tie.

It makes that dark thing inside him purr (you swear you've felt it one or twice). All those golden string, the single red one of your fates intertwined.

Make no mistake Reader, Gilbert has no intention of letting you go anywhere without him. You're his. He knows this, and you know this. But he's also yours. And he tells you this often.

"You can go anywhere, Maus," he whispers, hot breath (unnaturally so) fanning on the space behind your ear. You whine out at him and Gilbert can't stop himself from pressing you further into one of the bookshelves behind you counter of your father's store. Your skirt is hiked up around your waist, his hips pressed to your center with your knees help up by his arms. "But I'll follow you. I'm yours, hum? Say it, say I'm yours, say you love me, Schatz." He kisses you again and when you pulls away, you nod your head. You're whole body is as if its been set aflame. The lovely strings tied to your soul tug and pull in the most delicious way.

"Your mine, Gilbert. I love you," and as the words leave your mouth, his eyes burn brightly with devotion. "Thank you, Maus."

You smile into the next kiss.

-----

This was not edited. Forgive me for errors!!!

I am heavily inspired by @ghouljams portrayal of the Fae (especially soul ties. I think its such a great way to describe fae deals!!!) I wish I had their works to read when I was starting my Fae au years ago, because I agree with them so much. If you like Call of Duty, and like Fae AU's , you’ll love their stuff!

Tags???: @jtownraindancer @redrosesociety1 @xxruinaxx

[hellaverse-critical-confessions]

So I promised a background/minor character design appreciation post...

(Part one because this will likely get long)

Starting with the imps, due to the order in which characters of different species are presented on the wiki

Ah, Pringles. Of course. What a guy. He is very shaped. (Especially the hair and collar. I happen to be a sucker for male characters with that kinda "cat fluff" hairstyle.) Love the weird little cuff on his tail, it's so unnecessary but it fits. Dapper boy. Gotta love him

(As far as I can recall he gets bitches in Ozzie's, which, like, good for him!)

There's this kiddo from Loo Loo Land. I like her shapes as well, very exaggerated. As depicted here she kind of reminds me of some concept art girlies from the Art of Encanto book.

Actually, I think I have an image...

...I'm not the only one who sees it, right?

(Anyway, it's still available for free to view online. Very interesting stuff.)

Ahh... this guy. Or gal, actually. Turns out this is Skye Henwood's impsona, as well as my favorite character in Western Energy. Me and my friend were deadass ready to adopt her on sight. So tiny!! So shaped!! Look at that ridiculously huge bowtie. The littol suit. I want a pocket-sized imp now. Would carry them everywhere in my purse. Speaking of...

That's exactly what she did! Another crewsona (Sam Miller), and this design is incredibly slay. The feathers. The tail. Big, flowy, swooping shapes. (Not a big fan of the hands, though.) Very majestic creature overall.

Moving on to a few background Wrathians from Harvest Moon. She's a cutie. Not much else to be said. I like her outfit with the little boots and gloves as well as her pigtails.

I think these two could be related.

She looks so silly, I love her. Her hat and horns are disproportionately huge and it's precious.

Her name is Square, and she has major resting bitch face energy. I appreciate her instantly. (Long sleeved shirt + short shorts is a good combo.)

This guy from the Ozzie's elevator scene (Aspen) looks like he'd have quite the story to tell over a couple drinks of hard liquor. Slutty, but in a tired way. (A certain saxophonist cat from another piece of online media also fits that description.)

HER!! I love her so much. Everything about her honestly. The colors!! The legs!! The underbite!! She has no official name, but I call her Pomegranate. Or Pom for short. Got some of my own lore for her and everything.

Haven't watched Queen Bee, so I didn't get to see Dennis in action, but from this still alone I conclude that he's pretty cute. (However dude could use to pull up his pants.) Didn't really deserve to get yelled at, anyhow. Justice for Dennis!

Though I do have an old Dennis character, and he's a dick, so maybe Blitzo was on to something.

I like the girlie on the right too. Women with :3 smiles automatically win me over. The ripped pants and loose tank top go well together, and the splotch of magenta on the waist isn't obnoxious.

Mamma Mia, an imp with not purely and overwhelmingly red skin? What a spectacle. She looks way more like a black character than Velvette. And due to her subdued skin tone, the pink looks nice on her. (Which can't be said for Millie in one of the pieces of summer merch. Who thought pink on her was a good idea?!) Cool hair texture as well, feels very poofy.

Some bite-sized imp clowns from The Circus; their names are Eenie, Meenie, and Miney. How charming! Though, as I recall, doesn't that old children's rhyme go on to have four-

...Oh.

I think this might be Barbie Wire. We were never told explicitly, and she isn't even mentioned in the episode itself, but she looks closest to that design.

(Though I just noticed her horn stripes are too thick. Nevermind, then. Seems like she didn't even get that brief cameo in Blitzo's nearly episode-long childhood flashback despite being his twin sister, which should suggest that they were pretty close.)

I like this chick, though.

And that's it for now! Let me know if you'd like to see a part two though I might just go ahead and make it anyway

[blackjackkent]

The Emperor's hideout had some interesting loot in it - a piece of illithid heavy armor (which none of Hector's team needs or wants), some illithid gloves that give attack bonuses on creatures you've charmed or frightened (which no one really wants either), and the Emperor's old greatsword, which is still not better than the Sussar greatsword Karlach has been running since Act 1. So all in all not an incredibly lucrative visit if you don't count the MASSIVE CHARACTER REVEAL that I figured out in the previous post. (Sorry I'm still freaking out about it.)

Also there are a bunch of githyanki in the front hall that we have to go deal with:

Of all the places for Vlaakith's people to find us, why here???

Ah well.

There were a total of six gith in the next room (a paladin and several mages and fighters), which was a very nice looking area with fancy furniture; I feel like maybe we came in here backwards by finding the entrance from the sewers.

I actually remembered to use some of Hector's rogue abilities by having him sneak attack from stealth to open the fight and taking one of the fighters down to half health to open things up, which felt pretty cool. Luckily we're already running our last remaining hill giant potion.

The exciting gimmicks for this fight were a) all of the fighters had very scary multi-attacks, b) the ch'r'ai has 1234151234 HP (actually only 146 but still) and c) the mage can summon more people onto the field every round.

However, Hector's build is stupidly powerful at this point thanks to all the advice I've received and Karlach is a fucking juggernaut simply by existing, so honestly Jaheira and Shadowheart mostly just stood by and watched while the two lovebirds completely obliterated everyone in the room other than the main boss.

Overall not too bad a fight.

Looking around, we get to read a bunch of the Emperor's old documents and snoop through its mail from the time when it was running the Knights of the Shield. None of it seemed too terribly significant on its own, but it does seem that the Emperor wasn't kidding about the level of influence the Knights had at their peak. A number of documents also seem to chronicle Gortash's rise as a black market arms trader, supplanting out the Knights and the Zhentarim (presumably after the Emperor was re-kidnapped back to the illithids and then escaped into the Prism).

Did find a rather unique self-help book in a chest, titled "On the Inevitability of Moral Decay and Its Benefits":

Some good light bedtime reading.

One thing I did notice that is probably not related to anything (although I'm starting to become wary of making that assumption about anything in this game):

I didn't know the Cowled Wizards operated outside of Amn, so either this is surprising or the Knights had a VERY long reach indeed.

Also found a note that mentioned the location of a cache of supplies hidden "behind the Counting House" so we'll have to keep an eye out for that.

The main entry door leads out into the basement of the Elfsong Tavern, which is somewhere we definitely do want to investigate, but for right now time to get back down into the sewers on the road to finding Minsc.

[elizabethrobertajones]

Really here for Miss Bounding Frog, but I wanted to thank you for becoming a Wyll BG3 appreciation blog. Because while I've no interest in playing the game myself, he's just so charming and lovely and always a joy to have on my dash

You: is today the day I blacklist the bg3 tag? Wyll: *smiles with his whole heart out of a gifset* You: .... naaah he can stay, he seems polite.

You made me realise he and Frog are fairly alike in that I try to go for girlprince in her glams a lot of the time and he's just pure disney prince (but a devil).

(spoilers for BG3 musing on their similarities)

Also I guess their personalities are pretty similar in that they remain genuinely well-meaning heroes after going through it all. Like, the vacation before Dawntrail has been fun but Frog would still absolutely throw herself back into the fire when the self-sacrificing bullshit returns. She slept Endwalker off in a week and then was confused about why the scions were treating her with kid gloves. "Look, I'm upright again! What next??" "Have you tried this adventure called 'retiring to the beach'?"

I know a looot of people have rightfully tired or grumpy WoLs who are completely done with being asked to do things and people Assuming you will be the hero, or being in the crosshairs of the universe, but I did want to write a WoL who was genuinely hype to be here and would take it on the chin with old school heroic stoicism. However gutting everything is she's like, well, we hear-feel-think this trauma and on the other side we understand and respect what it did to us and move on stronger. And then forgive everyone who caused it. (she's very annoying)

Mr Of Frontiers over there had his tragic backstory at 17, a year younger than when Frog started adventuring (intentionally with no tragic backstory, I wanted her to be in it for love of the game) and I'm hypocritically declaring she was more than old enough because I say so and Wyll was a KID just a LITTLE GUY... but also Alphinaud doesn't exist in BG3 thankfully so there's no need to debate when kids should be allowed to be in charge of armies - although I think Alphinaud and Wyll should have a catch up and maybe learn some things about how they were doomed by the narrative together...

Anyway Wyll's various endings aside from the one where you set him up to be a Duke in the city (which I did on my Astarion play since Astarion is marrying him, craves creature comforts, and was presented with not even a persuasion check to decide Wyll's entire future, which is shockingly cruel of the game) he will just go back to adventuring and saving people. Like, a guy who can legitimately retire off the back of everything that just happened and return forgiven or at least as a hero if you did get his dad murdered to not be around to forgive him, and he's like... Actually, the People Need Me, I'm going to go write the next chapter of my life as an itinerant hero killing monsters and swashbuckling all day.

Also, aside from him definitely having whatever's wrong in his brain that Frog has (and Meteor Finalfantasy who is ready to Dawntrail also and is swashbuckling), he does also have the WoLbrain when it comes to Just Saying Messed Up Things. He's so funny and sarcastic and would absolutely fit in with WoLs who pick all the weird dialogue options. WoL can make moogle noises at Thancred? Well, Wyll over here will meow at you.

He also genuinely thinks clowns are funny, and every year the WoL earnestly goes along with a demon clown halloween event so there's that.

[phantom-does-a-thing]

PHANTOM hey hi im being normal about ashe winters do you have any thoughts about her . (if not u can leave this ask no worries)

I keep forgetting you send me this ask Oli hold on ok I don't really have that many thoughts, but I will just give you the general way I characterize Ashe:

She/He swag.

I recently watched Yakko's beating every 3d sonic game in a week video and that for some reason has greatly shaped my view of Ashe Winters. Interpret that as you will??????? I have no idea how to explain it.

He and Vyncent stay back a lot whenever Will n Dakota go out bc they both have issues with being out in public (and neither of them like being alone)

she's the perfect balance actually to the triad bc it always means they're able to duo off and no one is left alone. Her n Vyn bond over not liking to be in public n also not being really human. With William bc they are both emo and with Dakota bc he is an extrovert that adopts introverts and is so charming.

whatever way I write Ashe, he will never be fully human in my mind, sorry can't write him normally.

If I give Ashe Wings: they're like silver wings the same color as her hair and she has feathers all the way up her back and behind her ears. She is super fluffy and there are even feathers in her hair. She also has VERY big wings like they are proportionate to her body, if she were not frail and vitamin deficient she would be able to fly with them.

But he also never takes care of his wings because he doesn't know HOW. No one ever tried to show him and he is too uncomfortable in his body to try and look up. It also doesn't help that his wings are MASSIVE. He can only reach like an itty bit on the inside of his wings, so preening is useless.

She can chirp and click and chitter and absolutely HATES that she can and that she does it unintentionally a lot. She hates it so much because she knows it's not normal and that that's not how to be human. So he tries to hold it back as much as possible.

I think it's silly bc Vyncent also chirps but they chirp in wildly different tones so it's always a jumpscare for both of them. But like a good jumpscare. Bc Vyncent hasn't heard similar tones in a long time and yet Ashe can also chirp and woah. We aren't that different actually.

The fact that Vyncent isn't human either is a big reassurance to Ashe. Like they bond fr!

if I give her scales!!! ohohohooo so silly. Idk what color scales she would have but they are iridescent and don't work very well to be scales, they are fragile and very weak. Her scales will break easily and constantly peel off bc gene issues and humans are not supposed to have scales.

She has scales on her cheeks (like freckles), down her neck, her shoulders/collar bone, at her hands and wrists, down her back and on her legs. They're a lot less noticeable than Mark's so she doesn't necessarily have to hide them as much bc if you don't look close they're hard to see. But they are very itchy and uncomfortable.

He wears a scarf and fingerless gloves both to hide the scales and to make them easier to deal with. Compression = doesn't itch as bad so it helps.

Mark gave him literally NO information on the scales thing. Like what the hell do you do when the only other person in the entire world that might know what to do or understand the situation is your FATHER who is never there and you would never go to for personal questions like this? Ashe had to learn everything himself.

He does not know how to deal with shedding. It is a very painful process bc he doesn't know how to do it. He could just soak in a nice warm bath for a bit and it would be so much easier but it's Ashe, she doesn't do that.

She has been alone for so long that now she actually has some friends, he gets so nervous when left alone. Him :handshake: Vyncent.

I keep comparing him to Vyncent but they are both creatures, ok last comparison tho. They both have probably the worst people to ever base how to be normal off of, especially for Ashe.

Like Vyncent is not human, Ashe cannot use him as a basis on how to act normal. William is... well he's william, he's one end of the extreme spectrum. Dakota is at the complete opposite end.

They are the worst influences on Ashe, sorry. They are.

Ashe is very quiet during conversations and doesn't contribute much, he just watches and observes. He listens and remembers and does who knows what with that information.

He has curly hair, sorry I hit all of them with the curly hairification beam I can't describe any other hair type. Very long, frizzy curly hair, not as bad as Dakota but he also doesn't take care of it much.

He is a GAMER this is CANON but I think it's SILLY and I need to reiterate it.

He is probably the best at video games out of the four but that isn't like a big achievement. It's like Jay being the most sensible of the riptide pirates again. But he is actually really good at video games.

William forces him to play horror games and he shrieks anytime something scary happens (he HATES Horror).

Back on the fact that he is a very quiet person, however... there are a few things that he will go on HOUR rants about (video game plots, movies, tv shows, stupid internet facts. He knows so much internet lore) and it's like finding cheat codes to get him to talk about something. bc without being prompted, he won't contribute to a conversation at all.

She is a tumblr girlie sorry. William is a reddit mf.

Parallel play is her love language fr, but like he literally doesn't know anything else because no one ever spends time with her lol

There's probably more I could say but I don't feel like thinking of more things. Have this list, I didn't mean to go on a tangent.

[jazlynriddle]

Welcome to your life - Pt 3:

It's My Own Design Ch 15:

Summary:

Ominis fought to control his expression, to keep his hands from trembling. Five years. Five years since he'd seen his parents, and this. This was the reason they'd given him the honour of their time? This was the reason they'd sought him out at Hogwarts?

The bitterness welling up within him was thick enough to gag on.

New year, new allies, new responsibilities, new avenues of revenue, and new aspects of their own Ancient Magic to explore. As the Keeper and their partners enter their last year at Hogwarts, it remains to be seen if the new school year will bring with it new problems or adversaries, but they are confident in the strength of their relationship with Sebastian and Ominis. The three of them would endure, no matter what befell them.

And if they were wrong?

What a joke, they would suffer no alternative.

Warnings: Sebastian x MC x Ominis! Drug Addiction! Spoilers! Slow-burn corruption! Dark content! Fucked up 1800s orphanages! MC has no love for Anne or Solomon! Dubious happy ending (it's happy for MC, Seb and Ominis at least).

You can also read on AO3! (chapter specific warnings below)

Notes:

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, blood, death, all that fun stuff xD

So, I fell sick, and for some reason, I started writing a short spin-off Fairytale AU for this series. I don't know if I want to upload it as part of this series when I'm done lol

And I'm exhausted, so I'm gonna upload early and hit the hay, this chapter is like 10.6k words, good lord why does the word count keep rising-

With a clang, the arrow shooting towards the Keeper, hit their shield charm and clattered to the floor.

Retreating a step back behind the wall, they peaked cautiously around the corner and scrutinised the direction it'd come from. It took a minute, but they quickly spotted the crossbow and threw a standard cast at it, shattering it, before using reparo to fix it after they'd gotten past, and then paused to collect the arrow to hide evidence of the triggered trap.

They sighed, the last hour had been remarkably tedious. While, fortunately, thanks to Borgok's refusal, Gnarlak didn't have a lock on his secret base at the calibre of Gringott's bank vaults, the three locks on the front door had been magic resistant and it was only thanks to the Keeper's skill in lockpicking that they were able to enter.

Though their fingers nearly froze trying to lockpick without gloves in the early fucking winter.

Said entrance, carved into the side of a mountain, led into a literal maze and the Keeper had already spent almost an hour navigating it. Fortunately, the enclosed nature of this underground maze actually made it easier to find the correct path, unlike the Eunon Blackwood hedge mazes.

Whenever they reached a fork in the maze, they'd pick up a rock, reduce it to dust, and scatter the dust upwards, to see which path the air flowed through more freely. It was a slow method, but all they needed to do was make one mistake, step into one trap that their shield wouldn't stop, and they'd be dead.

At least the unknown large creature Gnarlak owned couldn't possibly fit in such a small maze.

Oh yes, the ceiling was lower than Garreth's grades. The Keeper wouldn't be bending over for a week after this, not even for Sebastian or Ominis.

Well, maybe.

If Sebastian asked nicely.

...or if Ominis demanded it.

Wow, their brain really only had one place to go when they were bored.

To their relief, the maze soon came to an end and the cramped, claustrophobic corridors gave way to a dizzyingly large open cavern. It was a pity that there hadn't been any fun puzzles in the maze, unlike the Elder Keepers’ trials, but considering that Gnarlak was trying to kill intruders, not test them... Kind of understandable.

Poking their head out of the tunnels, the Keeper cast a lumos maxima, sending the bright orb up into the air to hover just under the ceiling, illuminating the area. The cavern was large enough that they couldn’t quite imagine how whatever Gnarlak had used to carve this place out, had been brought in to begin with. Then again, perhaps he'd constructed the drill in here instead, and left the machine somewhere further in.

There were several large pillars of natural stone left untouched, holding the ceiling up, and what looked like a pair of tunnels leading off to the left and right. Impressively enough, the ceiling of the cavern was even higher up than the spire of Dìon castle.

Deeming it safe to proceed, they cautiously inched out of the tunnel, shield at the ready as they straightened. When nothing happened, the Keeper relaxed, biting back a groan as they took a moment to stretch. Good lord, those tunnels were awful. How the hell did Faun manage to sneak around a base made to that height for over a month?

Taking a few steps forward, the Keeper grimaced when their footsteps echoed across the stone, well, their boots were made for combat, not stealth. Besides, they wanted to draw out anything that would stop them from getting the kill.

A deafening roar split the air, bouncing off the cavern walls and splitting the Keeper's ears as well. Bloody hell, clearly the monster wanted to deafen them first.

Covering their ears, the Keeper's eyes darted about, just barely catching a glimpse of something large shooting out from the tunnel to the left, before it landed on the floor before them with a violent crash that shook the earth.

Large wings spread overhead, casting a shadow over stone and the Keeper sighed. Of course, a dragon. What else would it be.

Actually... the Keeper's eyes narrowed as they spied a familiar collar around the dragon's neck, quickly recognising it as the same beast that attacked their carriage during fifth-year, on their way to Hogwarts for the first time. Had the dragon been here in captivity this whole time? If that was the case, maybe this cavern had been in use since Ranrok.

“Hello again, a tad overdue for our rematch, aren't we?” The Keeper bared their teeth as the dragon roared, jaws spreading wide open and from deep within its throat, rose a bright hot glow.

Without a second to waste, the Keeper dived to the side, augmenting their roll with ancient magic to dash further out of the range of the plume of fire that spewed towards them like the flames of hell. Well, too bad, the Keeper knew they would burn, but it wasn't the time yet.

Hiding behind a pillar, the Keeper popped the cap off a jar from their satchel, and took a sliver of C-Pain in their mouth, shoving the jar back in as their eyes burned red. Ugh, they'd be glad when they had an energy armlet that they could use to consume energy on the go, rather than juggle all these cumbersome jars.

There was no time to complain, however, and they dashed once again as the dragon appeared from around the pillar. The glow of their Ancient Magic was now red, and their dash took them far further than before, the power of Pain rushing through their body.

“Bombarda!” The Keeper shouted, twisting and flicking their wand to throw the spell at the dragon, only for it to shake its head lightly, brushing off the blast like it was nothing.

Right, magically resistant creatures that required half a dozen stunners cast simultaneously to momentarily stun. That was inconvenient, but let's see how it does against something stronger.

The Keeper collected a vast amount of Ancient Magic in their wand instead, and sent a red blast of pure magic at the dragon. This time, the great creature was knocked off to the side in the middle of its lunge towards them and it roared as it slammed into a nearby pillar.

Okay, still not very effective, they grumbled to themselves, dashing again as the dragon got up inside the cloud of dust and blew fire at them. It did seem to do some damage, but knocking the dragon off its feet wasn't worth that much magic. They had brought a lot of C-Pain energy, but the more they used, the harder it would be to return to their regular dosage later.

As they dodged, a large rock fell from the ceiling, dislodged when the dragon slammed into the pillar, and it landed right on the creature's back. The dragon roared in pain and the Keeper took the opportunity to examine the cavern again. There were eight large pillars. An idea bloomed in their mind, and they grinned. If they couldn't use magic, then they would use the environment.

Ducking behind a pillar, the Keeper took another sliver of C-Pain and then dashed again when the dragon chased them around the obstruction. The creature was clearly being careful not to damage the pillars, the Keeper noted as they rolled out of the way of its fire, just barely avoiding being turned to charcoal. Clever.

They weaved through the pillars for several minutes, gradually widening the gap between the dragon and themselves with their boosted physical strength, before looping around a pillar and coming to a stop.

Brandishing their wand at the pillar, now perfectly placed between the Keeper and the dragon, they shouted. “Bombarda Maxima!”

The red hued spell slammed into the pillar and the impact shattered it, sending large boulders flying towards the dragon on the other side. The explosive momentum of their spell essentially turning the boulders into canons and firing them into the dragon's face.

The dragon roared as it was barraged with heavy boulders, pelting its scales and slamming into its wings. Now enraged, the great beast lunged for the Keeper and a smirk formed on their face when the dragon leapt through the space that was previously occupied by the pillar.

“Reparo!” The Keeper waved their wand with a flourish.

The boulders shot off the floor and swirled around the dragon like a hurricane, smashing into its jaw and wings, before coming back together as tightly as it could, the pillar returning to its original form, but with one difference. The dragon was now trapped inside the rock, its head, tail and one of its wings jutting out of the pillar at odd angles.

With a victorious grin, the Keeper withdrew the jar containing the Fear-Pill from their satchel and extracted it with their wand. They weren't sure it would work on the dragon, but it would be easier if they could render the creature unconscious and remove its collar, rather than kill it. They cautiously approached the dragon's head, and when it opened its mouth to roar, they lobbed the pill into its mouth.

Unfortunately, the dragon seemed to realise what they were doing and even as the pill flew into its mouth, it conjured fire from within its belly and blasted the pill back out. The Keeper cursed, diving out of the fire’s path as the pill flew off somewhere in the distance and the dragon began to thrash wildly in its confining rock.

With a roar, the pillar shattered once more, freeing the dragon and forcing the Keeper to dodge the flying boulders. Blast. They rolled when the dragon swiped at them with its claws, taking off once more across the cavern. Round two then.

The Keeper widened the gap once more and blasted a pillar at the dragon like before, but this time it didn't leap over the spot where the pillar had once stood, going around it instead. Well, dragons were certainly clever. Hopefully Shai wouldn't give them this much trouble when it grew up.

So, the Keeper continued to blast pillars at the dragon, casting reparo to fix them shortly after, for the fewer pillars there were, the less there was to hide behind and the more room for the dragon to attack them freely. Not to mention, they really didn't want to bring the ceiling down.

While they were certainly not dealing any blows of deadly force, the Keeper was slowly but surely wearing the dragon down. Honestly, this fight would have been hilariously short if they didn't have C-Pain to keep their stamina and strength up, and for a moment, the dragon seemed to realise that it was losing this battle of attrition.

Breathing heavily, after a little over an hour of fighting, the dragon turned to flee down the tunnel to the west, before letting out a shriek of pain. The Keeper watched with a frown, as the collar around the dragon's neck flared bright red and it collapsed to the floor, seeming to go into a seizure.

The dragon dragged itself to its feet and tiredly lunged at the keeper again, and they resumed their dodging. It seemed like the dragon was most certainly being forced to kill any intruders and did not have the option to flee, on pain of... well, pain.

As they finished their first C-Pain jar, the Keeper wondered if there was a difference between the way they consumed Pain energy as a drug, and one that caused pain with the same energy. Perhaps the collar was a method Ranrok had discovered, one that allowed him to inject Pain forcefully, in a way that caused the collared person to experience it, rather than become empowered by it, while the armlet allowed for consumption in a way that did so.

Still, they were burning through their C-Pain energy concerningly fast and had only a little over an hour to finish this before Gnarlak arrived.

The Keeper cursed as the dragon slammed its weight into a pillar that they were about to blast at it, turning the tables and using their own method against them, in what might have been an act of desperation. Casting a Protego and leaping backwards, their shield caught a large chunk of pillar and shattered under its weight.

While the shield took the brunt of that boulder, shards of flying rocks flew at them like bullets, and several caught them in the legs, ripping through their clothing and skin, and slowing their retreat.

With a roar, the dragon swiped at them with its tail, which caught the Keeper in the side and threw them across the cavern, into the wall, where they slid down into a heap on the floor.

Coughing through the dust, the Keeper struggled to stand, can't afford to be dazed, but found their legs to be covered in blood and in enough pain that they practically felt numb.

Shaky fingers fumbled for their wiggenweld potions, downing three in rapid succession before tossing aside the vials, and they rolled across the floor to avoid the dragon's claws, that slammed down where they'd been a moment ago.

Pointing their wand at a large rock a distance away, the Keeper shouted. “Accio!”

With the rock being far heavier than themselves, the Keeper was instead dragged across the floor rather painfully towards it, putting some distance between the dragon and themselves.

Balling up their Ancient Magic once more in their wand, the Keeper threw the red tinged magic at the dragon while it lunged at them, knocking it to the side, and it fell backwards into the collapsed remains of the pillar it'd just destroyed.

“Reparo!” The Keeper shouted, hoping that this time, the dragon would be too tired to break free of the pillar.

The dragon roared until it was silenced, encased in stone, and this time, its chest was exposed while its head was covered. The Keeper took another sliver of C-Pain while their calves itched and burned as the wiggenweld healed their flesh wounds, before holstering their wand and drawing the dagger that Sebastian had given them.

Having recovered enough to move, they leapt forward, landing on the dragon's exposed belly, and grabbed one of the great dragon's scales tightly between their fingers. Chest heaving with exertion and with a grunt of effort, the Keeper ripped the scale out, exposing the dragon's soft underbelly.

Shoving the bloody scale into their pocket, they held the dagger in both hands and brought it down on the dragon's hide. The blade's tip pierced the thick skin, but its body was so tough that they struggled to get it in further.

The Keeper's eyes glowed red and they leaned back, before throwing their weight forward again, putting all their strength into it, red bleeding from their body as they strained their muscles to their limit.

Until finally, with a shout, the blade sank fully into the dragon's body.

The pillar shook as the dragon's exposed tail thrashed, and the Keeper released the hilt of the dagger. Leaving it buried in the dragon's body, they jumped back and out of the way, before the pillar shattered once more.

The dragon thrashed violently in the shower of rock and stone, and the Keeper struggled to dodge the hail as they distanced themselves from it.

This continued till the debris settled and the Keeper watched warily as the dragon got to its feet unsteadily.

Had the poison not begun to work yet? Or was the poison not enough? The Keeper worried, but it seemed that they had been needlessly concerned, as the dragon barely managed to stumble a step forward, before collapsing to the floor.

They approached, watching silently as the dragon struggled to regain its footing, growling and wheezing.

A feeling of pity overtook the Keeper as they watched it struggle, threatening growls soon giving way to high pitched fearful whines and whimpers.

This creature hadn't fought them because it wanted to. It hadn't killed Osric because it wanted to. It had been forced. With their Pain energy, the power that Ranrok had stolen from them.

How hollow a victory this was.

As the dragon's struggles abated and its bright orange eyes began to lose their glow, the Keeper cautiously approached, knelt by its jaw and placed their hand gently on the side of its head.

“I'm sorry.” The Keeper murmured. “But you have my word, this will not happen again.”

The dragon's breathing gradually became weaker and soon, it ceased to draw breath altogether.

With a heavy sigh, the Keeper stood. The cavern was now eerily quiet, and they grimaced as they drew their wand. A quick tempus told them that it was almost five, they didn't have time to rest, and they took another sliver of C-Pain energy to recover their stamina, before getting to work.

Placing their wand against the dragon's collar, they tugged the E-Pain energy out of the band and transferred it to the empty jar. Before inspecting the collar, finding a latch on the back that they could unfasten and they removed it with some effort, placing it in their satchel.

Then they went to its belly and grasped the hilt of their dagger, pulling it from the dragon's body slowly and carefully. Wouldn't be funny if they cut themselves on it or got some of the bloodroot poison in them after all.

It took some effort to dislodge, but as the blade came free, it snapped in half, and the Keeper sighed as they held the broken blade. It looked like the shattered glass in the middle had weakened its structural integrity.

Well, at least they could bring back this half for now, the rest of the blade would be recovered when they gutted the dragon for parts.

“Tynx, Tibsy, Penny.” The Keeper called out as they sheathed the dagger, and with three soft pops, the elves appeared beside them.

Penny was quite startled by the dragon carcass and stumbled back in fright, but Tibsy steadied and comforted her, while Tynx bowed to the Keeper. “Yes, Master?”

“Take this carcass back to Dìon territory and harvest its parts.” The Keeper instructed. “But keep them separate from the parts of Shai's mother. This carcass is contaminated by poison, so its value is likely reduced, but it might still be worth something.”

“Yes, Master.” Tynx nodded and turned towards the other elves. “If we combine our magic, we should be able to get it home.”

“There's a blade and glass shards in its belly, so be careful of that. And the aforementioned poison.” The Keeper added as the elves plodded over to the carcass, Penny still looking rather disturbed.

The Keeper were quite glad that they'd had their elves wear shoes, if they cut their feet and stepped in poisoned blood, that would be quite... bad.

With that, the three elves snapped their fingers in unison and the large dragon's carcass disappeared, along with the elves.

The Keeper flicked their wand to vanish the blood from the floor and restored the pillar with a reparo, before turning to scan the cavern. Now they had to find the Fear-Pill. Great.

“Tempus.” The Keeper cast, fifteen minutes past five. They had to get a move on, but how would they find it? Should they search for it after killing Gnarlak?

Ugh, no time. For now, they would just check the place and perhaps they would come across it.

The Keeper walked across the cavern, limping slightly as their wounds continued to heal with the aid of their wiggenweld potions. Checking for traps or secret tunnels, and as they did so, a curious feeling began to gnaw at them.

It felt almost like a pull.

Like something in their body was gravitating towards something else, something nearby.

The Keeper wondered for a moment if they should be listening to that pull, but decided that if they kept their guard up, it would be alright. So, they closed their eyes and focused on the sensation.

In their mind's eye, the Keeper stood, a single point in space, and they could feel something familiar pulling them in one direction and in another, something almost cold.

The Keeper recalled the misty smoke, given off by the Fear-Pill, and its chill. If it was constantly smoking, perhaps that was what they were sensing?

Well, they had been hoping to find and retrieve the Fear-Pill, so they decided to follow the cold sensation first, moving cautiously and occasionally opening their eyes to avoid tripping.

After a few minutes, they felt as though they were right beside the cold spot. When they opened their eyes and looked around, they quickly spotted the Fear-Pill lodged in a crack in the floor. Using their wand, they extracted it and placed it back in its jar.

Now to investigate the other pull. If the cold sensation was the Fear-Pill, then...

They closed their eyes, focusing once again, and followed the tug.

Every step towards it felt like falling.

Growing stronger as they walked, until they found themselves standing before a wall. How strange. The Keeper examined the wall for a moment before casting a Revelio. As the charm washed over the area, something on the wall lit up in their vision, a rock that seemed unnaturally smooth.

They tapped the rock with their wand and the wall split in two, sliding aside to reveal what was unmistakably a Repository, with familiar E-Pain swirling within its confines. So, this was what Gnarlak was hiding here, a grin that was all teeth spread across their face, this must have been a backup cache Ranrok had sequestered away for distribution to his army.

With a wave of their wand, the Repository opened, and the Keeper examined its contents. It didn't look like there was much left in the silver receptacle, certainly not enough to fuel an army for a war. What strategist would be spoiling for a war when their trump card was so diminished?

That was strange to them, especially after Gnarlak had proven his intelligence and paranoia with his traps, but they supposed it didn't matter to them much. It'd be nice to get an answer to that, but this was first and foremost a job.

The Keeper withdrew an empty jar from their satchel and set to work stealing a majority of the energy, leaving just enough so that it wouldn't be obviously emptied, unless he looked too closely. Even if Gnarlak took the amount of energy they'd left in it, they should still be able to defeat him relatively easily.

Finishing up with that, the Keeper waved their wand and closed the Repository back up, along with the wall. They then took a few more rounds about the cavern to search for anything that would hinder their work and found nothing of note.

Perhaps he felt confident enough in his maze of traps and dragon to leave the cavern relatively clean, or he didn't want to risk the dragon triggering anything. The Keeper thought idly as they cast a disillusionment charm on themselves and hid behind the pillar closest to the Repository, so that they couldn't be seen from the entrance.

Checking the time, the Keeper abruptly remembered to do their evening Animagus chant, and quickly placed their wand against their heart, grimacing at the odd second heartbeat that thrummed in their ears for a moment. They'd be glad when the Animagus process was over and done with, it sure was inconvenient having to do this twice a day.

Fortunately, after all they'd done, the Keeper didn't have to wait very long before they heard footsteps emerging from the maze tunnel. Not too shabby, for everything to have gone perfectly according to schedule.

The Keeper watched as the goblin lumbered across the cavern floor, eyeing his clothes and armour. Surprisingly light on the armour actually, compared to Ranrok and the other Loyalists, he was carrying a smaller axe than usual too, standard crossbow.

Shouldn't be too hard to dispatch. They'd probably be better served going for a clean diffindo at the back while he was busy collecting energy at the Repositor-

“You might as well come out, I can feel your bloodlust.” The goblin called out as he came to a stop before the wall, turning around to face the pillar they'd been hiding behind.

Well, there went all their efforts to stay undetected.

The Keeper leisurely stepped out from behind the pillar, dispelling their disillusionment charm with a flick of their wand.

“You...” Gnarlak’s beady eyes gleamed with hatred the moment they landed on the Keeper. “I'd been wondering what manner of creature the eyes I'd felt belonged to, so careful they were, that even I couldn't discern its owner's intentions. Perhaps it's no surprise that it would be you.”

“Know me, do you?” The Keeper chuckled, leaning casually against the pillar they'd emerged from.

“Of course. Soulless murderer.” The goblin bit out.

“Pot, kettle.” They snorted. “I think at this rate, you'll have killed more of your own kind than I.”

“Perhaps, but unlike you, I haven't touched the red magic.” Gnarlak sneered.

The Keeper frowned, was he seriously considering the usage and consumption of Pain energy on par with killing his own fellow goblins?

“How'd you tell?” The Keeper asked, struggling to keep their tone conversational and indifferent.

“The red in your eyes gives you away, child.” Gnarlak answered with a smirk. “But it is so subdued. None I know would be able to resist gorging themselves on that magic, makes my Loyalists so obedient and easy to control. So, for the red to be that mild, you must be running out. That's why you're here, isn't it?”

The Keeper narrowed their eyes, well, if he thought so, they weren't about to correct him.

“I'm sure you're thirsting for more, would you like some?” He tapped the wall with what was probably Vesper’s wand, and it opened to reveal his nearly empty Repository, a misty red fog spilling into the chamber.

“If you kneel before me and beg for forgiveness, perhaps I'll share some of the power Ranrok discovered.” Gnarlak’s grin was cruel and his tone mocking.

“I think you mean stole.” The Keeper spat, some of their legitimate anger rising to the surface, as they left their spot against the pillar to stand in the centre of the chamber, several metres away from him. “That power is mine by right.”

“Is that a no?” Gnarlak ignored their statements, and the Keeper intentionally looked away, hoping to give him the impression that they were tempted by the offer.

“So that's how you've been controlling your army? By being the only provider of their drug. Why are you giving out that power in such vast quantities?” The Keeper asked instead, wouldn't do to kill a double like Faun did after all. “Do you not fear depleting your trump card long before the war even begins?”

Gnarlak scoffed. “I care little for what comes after the war. My lord and my love died to bring and win the war for our people, and then they turned on him. Denounced him!”

His voice was a furious shout by the end, pain written all over his face. “They abandoned Ranrok. He who laid down his life and his sanity for them. I care not if my kinsmen win or lose the war. I will simply bring it about, as my love intended.”

Well, can't fake that level of madness, plus he was missing a finger like Faun said.

So Gnarlak would begin a war and then leave his fellow goblins at the mercy of wizardkind, all to punish them for denouncing Ranrok, for not heralding him as a martyred messiah. At least Ranrok had wanted the E-Pain energy to win the war, this madman practically wanted his people to lose it.

“Your lord.” The Keeper spat in disgust. “Killed his own brother in cold blood. He was insane.”

“Yes...” Gnarlak’s pupils were pinpricks as he gazed, seemingly through the Keeper, at something far in the distance, visible only to him. “He gave up everything, his family, his life and his sanity. We knew what the red magic was doing to him, and he forbade me from touching it myself, but he needed it, to win the war.”

The Keeper flinched. That sounded too much like their own words to Sebastian and Ominis. They needed it. To cure Anne, to protect what was theirs. The mantra they repeated to themselves every time they stilled their trembling fingers, as they struggled against the urge to consume more than their weekly dose.

How then, were they different from Ranrok?

“All will feel our pain.” Gnarlak murmured and the Keeper bristled at his words.

No, they were different from Ranrok. They just wanted to be free of suffering for the rest of their days, and maybe get the justice that had been denied them.

Ranrok and his Loyalist army wanted to tip the scales and become the oppressors, wanted to grind all of Wizardkind under heel. Innocent and guilty thrown into the same hellfire the goblins had endured. Simply trading places, the suffering unending.

Gnarlak was worse, he abstained from touching the Pain energy, sure, but he had no loyalty to anything or anyone. He'd lost all principles and only sought destruction. He had to die. This wasn't just a job anymore.

It was their job.

“Very well.” The Keeper made a show of putting away their wand in their thigh holster, and strode forward calmly, not reacting when a wide smirk spread across Gnarlak’s face. “If you give me the rest of your ‘red magic’, I will serve.”

Placing a hand over their heart and dropping to one knee at the goblin's feet, the Keeper bowed their head, as one would before a king. Cackles of laughter grated on their ears, but it only lasted for a handful of seconds.

Their eyes glowed red and in a single smooth motion, the Keeper's hand dropped to grasp the hilt of Sebastian's dagger, drawing the broken blade, and with their enhanced speed, swiftly slashed it across Gnarlak’s throat, silencing him before he could so much as blink.

The goblin fell backwards with a choked gurgle, and collapsed to the floor, clutching at his throat as blood bubbled through his lips and squeezed past his palm, flowing down his arm and seeping into his cloth.

The Keeper stood slowly, watching impassively as Gnarlak inched backwards across the floor, trying to distance himself from them. Fear and anger in his eyes, even as his veins darkened with the residual poison still coating the dagger.

“I fight to protect, you fight to throw away what Ranrok left you. His poisonous dream ends with you.” The Keeper gazed down at him, as they drew and raised their wand to finish the job. “Diffindo.”

The goblin's head hit the floor and rolled for a few steps, while his body slumped to the ground.

And just like that, it was done.

The Keeper took a deep breath, before sighing and stooping to collect Vesper’s wand, shoving it into their satchel as they straightened. They had more work and cleaning up to do before they could go home.

Casting a levitation charm on the goblin's boot, the Keeper raised it so that he hung upside down in the air and the blood drained from his corpse through the opening in his neck.

They then collected the remaining E-Pain energy and placed the empty Repository into their satchel as well. They would give it to Borgok that he might recycle the silver to craft their purchases from, should offset the price somewhat.

It took a while before Gnarlak’s head and body were emptied enough to make less of a mess, and the Keeper shoved both into an expanded pouch they'd brought along, to provide evidence of their kill.

Finished with everything they needed to do, the Keeper took out Owl's two-way pocket mirror and opened it. “Owl.”

A moment later, he appeared in the reflection, a wide smile on his face. “Hey, kid! You're still alive!”

“Of course, finished off Gnarlak too.” The Keeper snorted. “And there was a bloody dragon in here.”

“A dragon!?” Owl exclaimed. “What happened with it?”

“Like I said, there was a dragon in here.” The Keeper smirked and Owl's eyes became very round and wide.

“Damn, a dragon too. Guess I underestimated you.” The man murmured.

“Anyway, I'll meet you at the pub to give you your payment around ten.” The Keeper continued. “If you get there before me, help me ask Alasdair to send Borgok a letter to see if he's free to meet tonight?”

Owl nodded. “Can do. Though, you sure, kid? You don't look so goo-”

The Keeper closed the mirror and pocketed it again.

A quick tempus informed them that it was just past seven, well, that gave them enough time to have dinner with Ominis and Sebastian, and grab a change of clothes.

Looking down at their torn and bloodied clothing, the Keeper sighed and turned to leave the cavern. Thank goodness Ominis was blind, they'd never hear the end of it if he were to see them like this.

That was what the Keeper so thought at least, until they collapsed on Dìon castle's doorstep, the panicked shouts of their boyfriends ringing in their ears.

“Absolutely not! You're going to rest for the rest of the night!” Ominis exclaimed, storming after the Keeper as they strode towards the castle entrance.

“I'm fine, Ominis.” The Keeper shook their head. “I've already told Owl I'll be meeting with him at the Phantom’s in thirty minutes and possibly Borgok. I'd rather get this all sorted out tonight if I can.”

“You just collapsed from an impacted liver and a bloody hemothorax!” Ominis grabbed them by the arm, looking like he was barely restraining himself from pinning them to the floor to keep them from leaving.

“Which you've healed up quite nicely, I barely feel a thing!” The Keeper smiled brightly and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“You-” Ominis spluttered in indignation, before spinning around with a glare. “Sebastian! Say something!”

The brunet in question was busying with something in his... bag.

“Sebastian, why are you taking out your broom?” The Keeper asked warily.

“Isn't it obvious?” Sebastian returned dryly, shooting them a glare that almost matched Ominis’ in intensity. “You're not fine, not even close.”

The Keeper blinked as his knuckles turned white around the broom's handle, his voice trembling as he spoke. “If I hadn't made that dagger for you-”

“But you did.” The Keeper interrupted with a soft and grateful smile. “And it saved my life.”

“Well, it shouldn't have!” Sebastian shouted, shaking his broom at them. “It was supposed to be a fail-safe! A last resort! There wasn't supposed to be a bloody dragon in there!”

“If I hadn't-” Sebastian's eyes were dark, in a way they’d only seen when talking about Anne's curse before. “If there were something worse, you might not have come home.”

The Keeper grimaced and folded their arms. Admittedly they hadn't thought they'd end up using the dagger either. The dragon had caught them off guard too and with its magic resistance, they doubted anything else they had would have put it down. They supposed that for all his confidence and bravado, Sebastian hadn't thought the stakes quite as high as they'd ended up being.

“I won't stop you from taking jobs like these.” Sebastian muttered, his voice strained. “But I’m not letting you go alone again until I'm convinced that you'll come home.”

With a sigh, the Keeper gave him a helpless smile. “I suppose I can't argue when you put it that way.”

“You most certainly can't argue if we put it any other way either.” Ominis scoffed.

“And I'm going with you tonight, to make sure you don't pass out in the middle of Knockturn Alley or something.” Sebastian added firmly.

The Keeper sighed, they supposed it wouldn't hurt to have Sebastian with them, Owl was already aware that they were living with him in Feldcroft after all.

“Fine. You can come with, but try not to say too much around Owl.” The Keeper conceded. “The man's sharper than a unicorn's horn.”

Receiving a nod from Sebastian, they then turned to Ominis. “Does that satisfy you, darling?”

Their blind lover didn't seem entirely appeased, but gave them a grudging nod, his lips pressed together into a thin line. “If you start having difficulty breathing, you come right back home, you hear me?”

The Keeper chuckled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yes sir. I'll come home and you can drain any fluid you want out of me.”

Ominis’ cheeks flushed and he pushed them away with an annoyed huff. “Ugh, just go before I change my mind.”

Grinning, the Keeper gave Sebastian a casual pat on the shoulder. “Come on, then.”

“Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on them.” Sebastian murmured to Ominis as he followed.

Shaking his head, Ominis gave a tired sigh and ran a hand over his hair, as the doors closed behind his lovers. At this rate, he was definitely going to lose all said hair by the time they reached their thirties.

Still, they'd come home alive, which was better than he'd feared, considering that the Keeper had gone up against a dragon on their own. He would have thought they'd come home more injured than the Hogsmeade broom incident rather than less. He grimaced, the memory alone was enough to tempt him to go downstairs to pay the depressed Selwyn an unpleasant visit.

Ominis shook the thoughts from his mind, no, he should just focus on being happy that they'd survived. With another sigh, he turned to head up the stairs.

At least their room here in Dìon finally had a proper bed, he was beyond exhausted.

The image of the Keeper’s broken body on Hogsmeade’s cobblestone remained burned into Sebastian's mind, as he followed them silently through Knockturn Alley and towards the pub. Not quite how he'd pictured his first trip into the illicit derelicts, but he was still too upset to really take in the sights.

From the moment the Keeper landed on the grass of Dìon castle's lawn, covered in blood, robes torn and tattered, smiling at him and Ominis as they collapsed, he could not shake the memory that had resurfaced.

His stomach had turned, and it was all Sebastian could do to hold in his panic as he carried them into the castle kitchens and set them down on Shai's bed to warm their cooling body, while Ominis hurriedly cast charm after charm on them. It was just from their flight through the cold winter air, but it felt all too familiar, the stench of rust and smoke, cold blood on his hands and nothing he could do.

Why had he agreed to let them go alone? Talking up a weapon he never thought would be needed. It was almost more terrifying that the Keeper hadn't disagreed, when he suggested that they'd needed the blade to win that battle.

Even with the Keeper's insane Ancient Magic and C-Pain energy, it was a plain old dagger and poison made by a novice that ended up legitimately being their trump card!? That had been a joke! The whole project was something to do to occupy himself. To scratch that frustrating itch by doing something, anything that made him feel like he was contributing to their survival, no matter how small.

It was supposed to have been small.

It hadn't been.

His 'small' contribution had brought them home.

What if he hadn't finished it in time? What if he hadn't made it strong enough? No, he couldn't let them do this again. He now understood why his beloved had lost their temper with him for being reckless on the Marunweem mountain. It was unbearable, imagining what might have happened to them if he hadn't gone with the old adage of, ‘better too much than not enough’, for the poison dosage.

He'd thought Ominis over-worrying as always, as the blond paced a hole into the floor for almost the entire four hours, till the elves came back with the dragon's body. His boyfriend had almost passed out from relief when Tynx said the Keeper was fine, and Sebastian had felt assured in his confidence in them.

Now, he felt like Ominis’ worry had been well founded and it was Sebastian who'd been stupidly overconfident. Again.

But what could he do? He was always just... tagging along. Following and watching, the sidekick of the main character. The Keeper, always solving his problems, providing cryptic mysterious answers while he stood on the sidewalk, and every time he acted on his own, he messed up and hurt someone. His uncle, Ominis, and even the Keeper themselves.

So, he'd been content to follow their lead and trust their judgement, let them guide him and point him in the right direction, but... what if they weren't as all-knowing as they came off? Twice now, they'd almost died while he wasn't watching. What could he do? What was he supposed to do?

Merlin, the Keeper drove him mad, in all the innumerable ways he needed them, relied on them. No, they hadn't been wrong about their direction, they just hadn't been strong enough. That's all.

He couldn’t afford to lose them. He just needed to make sure the Keeper had all the power in the world. As long as they were indestructible, he would have nothing to fear.

Right?

“Sebastian, we're here.” The Keeper whispered quietly to him and touched his arm gently. “Keep your wits about you, love. And just follow my lead.”

Taking a breath, Sebastian nodded. “Always.”

The flash of teeth in the Keeper's grin, under their hood, sent a shiver up his spine. He could almost pretend they hadn't been unconscious from their injuries two hours ago.

Following the Keeper inside, Sebastian glanced about cautiously, so this was the notorious Phantom’s Flask they'd talked about. It certainly looked like any other pub, barring the dour externalities.

“Heeeey, Sal!”

The moment the Keeper lowered their hood, there came a cheerful call from one of the nearby tables and Sebastian lowered his hood as well. Following them to the table, where a skinny fellow with dusty brown hair was seated, looking quite out of place between the intimidating patrons of this pub.

“Owl.” The Keeper nodded in greeting and took a seat, Sebastian doing the same beside them. So, this was the man his partner had hired, somehow, he felt younger than Sebastian had imagined.

“Congratulations on completing your first job, kid.” Owl grinned, raising his mug in toast to them, before adding. “Alasdair says Borgok can make it tonight.”

“Great, my thanks for passing on the message.” The Keeper tipped their head in gratitude.

“It's no bother at all.” Owl shook his head, before giving Sebastian a curious nod. “And who's your friend here?”

“This is Sebastian.” The Keeper answered, to Sebastian's surprise, what happened to aliases?

“Ah, the young man you've been living with!” Owl beamed, snatching Sebastian's hand off the table for an enthusiastic shake. “It's very nice to meet you!”

Sebastian blinked at the man for a few seconds, before cocking an eyebrow at the Keeper. “You told him?”

“Nope.” The Keeper flashed him a wry smile, before turning to speak with a blond lady that stopped by the table.

“Oh, don't sweat it, kid. I'm just too curious for my own good.” Owl gave a hearty laugh and patted Sebastian's hand. “And I peddle information. It's kinda my thing, comes with the trade.”

Right. Tracker and info guy. Must have been real curious to spend extra time sniffing the Keeper's business.

“Is that so...” Sebastian nodded slowly as he retrieved his hand. “Don't suppose you'd like to share how you came about that information?”

Owl chuckled with a pleasantly affable smile. “Now that would be telling, wouldn't it? Got to keep some trade secrets or I'll lose me edge.”

Sebastian snorted lightly, sharp like the Keeper said. For once, he felt like it'd be better if he kept his mouth shut for most of this conversation.

“Speaking of trade.” The Keeper fished out a small pouch from their satchel and slid it across the table. “Here's the rest of your payment and your mirror.”

“Thank you kindly.” Owl grinned as he caught the small pouch.

The moment he did so, a blue flame appeared over the back of his hand.

“What was that?” Sebastian asked curiously.

“Just means the contract's conditions have all been fulfilled.” Owl explained, dropping the pouch into his rucksack and pulling out the rolled-up contract to present it to the teenagers. “See how the seal's turned turquoise? Now we need only bring our contracts to the guildmaster to discharge them.”

What fascinating magic, flashy, and elegant in a way he appreciated, and Sebastian couldn’t help but enquire further. “What happens if a Merc fulfils their end of the contract, but the contractor doesn't pay?”

“Oh, the contractor will feel like they're engulfed in blue flames until they make the agreed payment.” Owl answered with a bit too much enthusiasm. “If the payment is something that can't be made any longer, Alasdair will try to negotiate an alternative, but otherwise, it's... let’s just say, inadvisable trying to get out of paying.”

“I see.” Sebastian murmured, eyeing the colour changing wax seal. He'd spent some time examining the Keeper's contract after they'd gotten it, but it had been impossible to identify the type of wax it employed, and it'd driven him nuts for an entire week.

“And now that you've finished this job, what will you do next?” The Keeper asked Owl, their tone casual and conversational as the blond lady from before came by to drop off two tall glasses of lumpy brown sludge. Passing one to Sebastian, they cautioned. “Drink slowly.”

Taking the glass, Sebastian peered at it curiously and took a slow sip through the straw. What the- he leaned back in surprise.

He squinted at the sludge in the dim lighting, ice? That was bloody genius! He took another sip. Crunchy texture, coffee and chocolate? Brilliant! Could he recreate it? Ominis would love this. How the hell did the guildmaster make the ice so evenly shaved? Not a blade surely, crushing? No, each sheet was too thin. A spell no doubt, but he'd never read of a freezing spell this intricate...

“-stumble on someone who needs assistance or Alasdair points someone at me.” Owl's voice cut in on Sebastian's speculation.

Right, the Keeper was still interrogating Owl, Sebastian shook his head and refocused on the conversation.

“Not too different from the way I made my earnings before, I see. What made you join the Phantoms?” The Keeper asked with a cajoling smile and Sebastian had to look away to calm his heart.

Powerful, intelligent, cunning, oh, and bloody hot. Sometimes Sebastian still felt like he needed to pinch himself to check that he wasn't just having a complex dream of the new fifth-year that just happened to be his type.

“It was mostly happenstance. Shortly after Hogwarts, I stumbled into the pub in the middle of a job, not knowing what it was. Alasdair plucked me out and offered me a spot. Said something about dying young if I play without a team for too long.” Owl laughed. “Won't disagree, he's helped me out of tough spots many a time. Mostly when someone wants info I'm not selling.”

“How much does Alasdair help his Mercs?” The Keeper asked.

“Beyond facilitating contracts, he hammers heads if anyone tries to force us to do a job uncontracted, or tries to cheat us. He plays judge if there's a disagreement over payment.” Owl listed with a thoughtful expression. “He only stays out of it if we're in trouble as part of a job. We get to deal with the consequences of accepting a job that’s over our heads, you know?”

“Makes sense, so how do you decide what jobs to take then?” The Keeper prodded.

Owl flashed them a wry smile that was a tad confusing to Sebastian, but he imagined the Keeper understood it. “I take jobs I'm interested in or work that pays well. Though I don't normally take wet work, you're a bit of an exception. Still rather impressed by how deep your pockets are for a Hogwarts student.”

“What can I say, I do good work.” The Keeper chuckled. “So, what are you going to do with my coin? Enjoy an expensive lifestyle?”

“Oh yes, very expensive lifestyle. Wouldn't recommend taking in six orphans unless you're masochistic.” Owl shook his head.

“You've got six kids!?” Sebastian exclaimed incredulously, somehow the idea of this guy being a dad felt absurd.

“Yup.” Owl's grin was absolutely glowing with pride. “Oldest is in fourth-year at Hogwarts.”

“I guess you like kids.” The Keeper commented dryly.

“Well, yes. That's one reason.” Owl nodded slowly, and his eyes narrowed with some frustration. “The lack of magical orphanages is another.”

“I see.” The Keeper's expression was neutral, and Sebastian was quite amazed that they could wear such a detached look, while he had to take another drink from his glass to smother his grimace.

“I grew up on the muggle streets and I wouldn’t wish that on a magical kid, but I can't run an orphanage on my own and the damn Ministry doesn't give a rat's arse.” Owl shook his head with a tight smile. “So, I do what I can for the kids I come across.”

“And I'll thank you for that.” The Keeper flashed a small smile at the man, which seemed to brighten his disposition some. “If you like helping orphan kids, then perhaps you'll be willing to take another job from me.”

“Oh?” Owl raised an eyebrow, leaning forward to fold his hands on the table. “What kind?”

“I'd like you to help us find his sister.” The Keeper tilted their head towards Sebastian, and he promptly choked on his drink.

“His sister?” Owl echoed, eyeing them warily. “You're not-”

“Sebastian's twin sister, Anne Sallow, cut contact with him and we're hoping for reconciliation, but we don't know where she is and she's not answering our owls.” The Keeper gave Owl a hopeful smile. “I'd appreciate it if you could help these orphan twins reunite. I'll pay you handsomely for this of course.”

Coughing to clear his throat, Sebastian wasn't sure if the tears in his eyes were from choking, or from overwhelming gratitude. He couldn’t believe he hadn't thought of this himself and felt a tad stupid now, of course, a professional tracker would be the perfect person to help them find Anne.

Had the Keeper taken up this Mercenary position, thinking too of the connections they'd obtain that could help Sebastian find his twin? The sheer number of things they'd taken on for him was beyond belief, and honestly, inspired no small amount of guilt in him.

“Want to tell me why she cut contact?” Owl asked with a charming smile and the Keeper laughed.

“You don't need to know that to find her.” They answered with an equally knowing smile and Sebastian felt like he was watching a chess match.

Owl gave them a hearty laugh. “I suppose I don't. Very well, I accept the job. Got anything that might help?”

“We've already searched these locations.” The Keeper unrolled a map on the table and began pointing out some of the towns that Ominis had been to, in search of Anne.

Sebastian was also happy to contribute with Anne's preferences and any habits that could help Owl determine where she might have chosen to live. While the Keeper dodged several more attempts at digging additional information and stopped Sebastian every time he came close to oversharing.

When that was finally done, the Keeper and Owl left Sebastian at the table while they went over to the bar to archive their previous contract and create a new one for Anne's search. He watched from the table as the bartender cum guildmaster stamped a seal on the old contracts, turning the wax a deep green.

Honestly, Sebastian was amazed at how deftly the Keeper was handling all this. While he enjoyed political chess as much as the next Slytherin, he had to admit that it was a bit tiring to play against someone like Owl. The man made it extremely easy to forget that he was an information broker, and Sebastian really couldn't believe that he'd been a Hufflepuff.

Then again, the Keeper had played that game well from the moment he met them- bloody hell, had it really been three years already? It'd been difficult playing against someone he found distractingly attractive, but the whole Anne thing and the lack of Ominis had somewhat tempered his libido.

Now, however? Watching the Keeper striding confidently through a pub full of dangerous wizards, witches, goblins and other creatures, bantering with a bartender who looked like he could snap a man in half with a sneeze. Merlin's blue balls, it was hot.

A little voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Ominis, reminded Sebastian that he was there to make sure the Keeper didn't push themselves, not gawk at them. Which was difficult to convince himself of, when they looked far more in their element here than he felt.

The Keeper soon returned with Owl in tow, tucking away both the new and old contracts with one hand, while the other held a tray carrying a plate of chips and two new glasses of that brilliant chocolate ice drink.

“Alright, I'll let you know how it goes, but it'll probably take longer than Gnarlak.” Owl was saying as the two reached the table, and he shot Sebastian a small smile. “I doubt your sister's got an army's worth of movements or criminal activity to track, and it doesn't help that she can apparate.”

The Keeper and Sebastian snorted at the same time, the idea of Anne doing anything remotely criminal was laughable.

“It's fine, we'll just be glad to speak with her again.” The Keeper replied evenly as they sat down with the tray, and Sebastian couldn't quite stop himself from glancing at them at their words. After all, they weren't planning to just talk with her.

“Uh huh.” Owl grinned, hefting his rucksack over his shoulder. “See you next week, kid.”

“Till then.” The Keeper nodded, and popped a chip into their mouth, while the tracker gave Sebastian a parting wave as he left the pub.

“That was impressive, you sure got a lot out of him.” Sebastian smiled, curiously stealing a chip from their plate to taste.

Not bad, but he would take no more. Seeing as they'd rushed off after being healed, the Keeper hadn't yet eaten, and he was fairly certain that they planned to hit the hay when they got home, only having eaten this paltry excuse of a snack for dinner. He could already hear Ominis’ complaints.

“Trust me, love. We only got what he deigned to share. That arse knew what I was doing, he was just humouring my prying.” The Keeper grumbled, taking a sip from their glass. “Glad you didn't see my first go, gave him far more when he first tried prodding at me.”

“Hard to imagine, what with the way you handled him this time.” Sebastian chuckled.

“Yeah well, I do learn, you know?” The Keeper flashed him a teasing smile, and Sebastian scolded his heart for going nuts at such a small thing. You'd think they hadn't been dating - and occasionally getting each other off, though not nearly as often as he'd like - for almost two years now.

“That I do.” Sebastian took a gulp of his drink in the hopes of cooling his head down, and winced when a sharp pain bloomed in the back of it.

“I told you to drink slowly.” The Keeper shook their head with a fond smile.

“And now I know why.” Sebastian's laugh was a broken up staccato as he rubbed at the base of his skull.

“Don't worry, it'll pass in a bit.” The Keeper reassured with a fond smile that undid any impact the drink had had on cooling his head, as they popped another chip into their mouth.

A few minutes and most of the plate of chips later, something caught the Keeper's attention, just off to the side, and Sebastian followed their line of sight, spotting a goblin that was lumbering over to their table.

“Borgok.” The Keeper nodded at the goblin, gesturing at the chair across. “Please, take a seat.”

“I assume you have good news.” Borgok's smile was knowing as he sat down.

The Keeper pulled a pouch from their satchel and dropped it on the table. “Here you go, Gnarlak’s head, as agreed.”

The goblin's eyes were wide as he stared at the small bag. “You- is that?”

“Yup, and the rest of him too.” The Keeper nodded and Sebastian wrinkled his nose in disgust, ew.

“Wha- why did you bring his body?” Borgok asked faintly.

“Evidence of the kill?” The Keeper raised an eyebrow in confusion. Ah, Sebastian cringed, right, muggleborn.

Borgok gave an uneasy laugh as he picked up the pouch. “Er, I appreciate the thoroughness, but the contract is evidence enough.”

“Oh.” The Keeper blinked.

“That would be the magic part of the contract.” Sebastian whispered into their ear, and they cleared their throat in some embarrassment.

“Right, good to know.” The Keeper nodded awkwardly, quickly changing the subject. “Anyway, there's also some goblin silver in there that you can use to craft my requested items.”

“Of course, glad to see that I was right about your capabilities.” The goblin nodded slowly as he gingerly placed the pouch in his pocket. “I believe you wanted a cauldron, two collars of human size...”

“And an armlet.” The Keeper continued, handing him a sheet of paper with the measurements for their items. “And make that three collars.”

“Alright.” Borgok nodded, glancing at the list before pocketing the slip. “I should have them ready for you by next week.”

“Oh, what about the Fear-laced blade idea I had?” Sebastian prodded the Keeper in the arm, speaking in a hush. Considering how handy the poisoned dagger had ended up being, he felt like he’d rest easier if they got something stronger to replace it.

“Right, actually, Borgok. Do you think you'd be able to make a dagger that has a similar design to the collars?” The Keeper asked. “Essentially a dagger that would inject in the same way collars do.”

Borgok frowned. “I told you, I don't make weapons anymore.”

“Are you taking the piss?” A surge of anger overtook Sebastian, and he glared at the goblin across the table. “You sent them into a dangerous battle without arming them or giving them anything to go on! They had to kill a bloody dragon to do your damn job and now you're holding out on weapons that'll keep them alive!?”

A crack formed on the glass cup in Sebastian's tight grip and the Keeper placed a hand on his, murmuring quietly. “Calm down, love.”

“A dragon?” Borgok echoed with a startled look.

“Indeed.” The Keeper answered. “Gnarlak had a dragon in his control, and I broke a poisoned dagger in its hide and would like a replacement.”

Borgok's expression was still uncertain, and the Keeper pressed him further.

“Our contract says that you will supply me with any goblin silver metalsmithing. Are you going back on our agreement?” The Keeper's eyes narrowed. “I thought this was to be an ongoing partnership to prevent further uprisings, perhaps you'd like to handle future rebellion leaders on your own, hm?”

The goblin hesitated for a moment more, before sighing and nodding. “Well, I did agree to that, and I suppose there's a difference between crafting weapons to prevent war and crafting them for war. Very well, I'll craft a dagger for you as well, it shouldn't be too difficult to give it a functionality similar to the collars.”

“Thank you.” The Keeper nodded, giving Sebastian a small smile that helped him relax further.

“Did you actually kill the dragon?” Borgok asked after a few moments.

“I did actually, hardest battle since Ranrok himself.” The Keeper chuckled. “Gnarlak was easy by comparison.”

“Incredible, with a poisoned dagger you said?” Borgok asked with some amazement. “We have one living in Gringott's vault caves that we would unleash upon thieves, so I'm quite familiar with a dragon's ferocity.”

“Yes, it would likely have killed me if not for this dagger Sebastian made.” The Keeper withdrew the broken dagger from their satchel and presented it to the goblin, warning. “Be careful, it's still steeped in poison.”

Borgok drew the dagger from its sheath and inspected the broken blade, the unmistakably sulfuric stench of dragon blood filled the air, along with the sickening sweetness of the poison. “Curious design, and you made this, young man?”

Sebastian nodded. “Had the hollow in the middle covered by glass, with poison inside.”

“To hold enough poison for a dragon... I must say, that's rather brilliant.” The goblin nodded, scrutinising the edge for a moment more, before asking Sebastian. “Interested in blacksmithing?”

“Not exactly, I just wanted them to be safe.” Sebastian murmured, glancing at the Keeper as he answered, though it made him slightly embarrassed when Borgok's eyes softened with understanding. Clearing his throat, Sebastian continued. “Though I was thinking of becoming a Curse Breaker for Gringott's when I graduate.”

“Is that so...” Borgok eyed him speculatively and took another look at the blade in his hands. “Sebastian, was it?”

He raised a questioning eyebrow at the goblin and Borgok steepled his fingers with a small smile. “I'd like to offer you the opportunity to learn from me.”

“Wha-?” Sebastian blinked at him in confusion, what in Merlin's name was this goblin on about?

“My apprentice... my nephew.” Borgok sighed. “Was murdered by Ranrok for seeking peace with wizardkind, and I think he'd be happy if I took on a human as an apprentice. One who understands what it means to create with and for love.”

Sebastian's eyes went wide, there was some poetic irony, that a goblin would seek to bridge relations with humanity through him of all people. He who had spent two years hating and killing goblins, and here he was, being offered apprenticeship by a master blacksmith, who was a goblin.

“And this.” Borgok raised the broken blade. “Unpolished and lacking in technique, but extraordinarily designed and I can feel the effort that went into it. It would be a shame to let a mind for craft and a steady hand go to waste, and I can get you a fast track into the Curse Breaker ranks, if you accept.”

“I-” Sebastian floundered for a moment, before looking to the Keeper for help.

“It's your future, it's up to you.” They patted him on the shoulder, and he frowned thoughtfully.

Well, it would help to have a way into the Curse Breakers immediately after graduation, without any prior experience in the field. The sooner he gained access to their logs, the sooner he might find a cure for Anne's curse, and it would feel good, being able to jump into a well-paying job and contribute to their funds quickly.

Plus, the Keeper's experiments with energies would mean a lot of work with goblin silver. If he knew how to forge and craft with said goblin silver, he'd be useful to them. They'd done so much for him... Sebastian would do anything for them, anything to be useful, to make them stronger.

“I accept.” Sebastian answered and Borgok grinned.

“Excellent, we can speak further of the details next weekend. Shall we say, nine in the evening?” The goblin nodded. “I'm afraid I can't stay much longer.”

“Sure.” Sebastian agreed, still a little dazed by all the surprises that tonight had had to offer.

“I look forward to receiving my pay.” The Keeper gave the goblin a small smile.

“Of course, till then.” Borgok tipped his head in farewell and lumbered off towards the doors.

After he'd been gone for a few moments, the Keeper laughed lightly. “What a turn of events.”

“No kidding.” Sebastian chuckled, slumping against the back of his chair. “Somehow, I feel pretty tired after all that.”

The Keeper laughed lightly and stood, offering him a hand. “Come on, let's go home then.”

Home.

Sebastian smiled, and took their hand without hesitation. “Yeah, let's go home.”

Notes:

The Keeper, as they kill Gnarlak: Your blood is on Ranrok's hands. xDDD

Hemothorax is basically when you have pockets of blood in your lungs, which can be caused by blunt trauma, essentially minor internal bleeding which if given enough time can become a collapsed lung. An injured liver can be really bad too because of toxin build-up in the blood and cause feelings of exhaustion among other symptoms.

So, not nearly as serious as the Hogsmeade broom incident, but has the potential to be. Sebastian does manage to forget that pretty fast tho-

Also, Gnarlak’s means of controlling his army is actually a method used by criminal organisations to control their members in reality. Make a person addicted to a drug that only you can provide and bam, you have a desperate slave with no ego.

However, unfortunately for him, the Keeper essentially has an endless stock, since they can actually create Pain energy, so this isn't a weakness they have.

He also assumed that the Keeper would have become mentally corroded by Pain energy via over-consumption and drug abuse, like his own Loyalists. Just like Ranrok. Which they weren't because Sebastian and Ominis keep them from abusing the Pain drug.

I mean, if you put someone on a pedestal too hard, it can damage your overall logic. He began on the assumption that "if someone as strong as Ranrok can be corrupted by Pain, no one can resist it." And that made him vulnerable to underestimating the Keeper.

On the less extreme end, Sebastian also kinda puts MC on a pedestal and his game dialogue lines make it plain that he is very concerned with proving himself useful to them. The second of which is incredibly endearing imo x3

I find it rather irritating when people don't seem to understand that Sebastian isn't being manipulative when he tries to pressure MC to help Anne. If anything, it's pretty clear that he thinks MC is badass enough to do anything and everything if he can convince them to try and he just throws everything he's got at us, kid's just desperate xP

He's so adorably earnest despite all that, and I love his character so much for it- Ugh, he's so cute-

But ahem, anyway, cute as it may be in moderation, pedestals aren't a great place to put people, no one is perfect and thinking people are perfect can be dangerous in many ways. Sebastian still hasn't quite grown out of that, hard to blame him, when they are as OP as the game made them, and as I've worsened heh heh- but he's getting there, slowly xP

I also think it's reasonable to say that someone with good hand to eye coordination for the wand flicks of spell casting would have a steady hand for crafting as well. Well, hopefully, and I think Sebastian has the creativity, endurance, determination, and hard working attitude that would be suited to it as well, with the right motivation xP

Many thanks once again, to my Patreon, cheeky_idler, for naming Shai as a Paid member with voting & suggestion power! ;)

[arrimorr]

SPINNING AROUND IN CIRCLES BLOWING UP FLYING AWAY FURTHER THAN THE SUN. GRAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH IM REALLY TOUCHED AND HONOURED. Spooky creatures....I really like the way you drew the Knight's posture and overall anatomy 😭😭😭 those arms that are too long and seem almost spidery like. His stance that may seem fluid but at the same time is obviously tense and charged if you look at his hands. HIS HAIR that looks like a cloud. Also the way the Dummy's fog merges with his armour!!!!!! The fog slipping out in this manner is actually a very fun redesign choice, makes it look like something in between gloves and him physically holding his armour's hand pieces. ALSO YOUR SHADING AND THE SHINE YOU ADD EVEN TO YOUR LINE WORKS IS, AS USUAL, INCREDIBLY CHARMING and very pleasant to look at. Ohhh Im also having a blast with looking at the Dummy's face, it's really nice to see him in this more realistic manner, he should be corpse-like under that helmet and I can't really achieve that rn with the level of details Im used to, so it's genuinely great to see him this way. Hekskdlwlaoslspa thank you thank you once again. God I really need to draw your trio once I push through the end of this semester in my University...

ocs belong to @arrimorr I wanted to draw them for quite a while. Wonderful character design ❣️

b/w

[bonktime]

Take a Breath

Ezra (Prospect) x AFAB!reader Oneshot (no use of y/n)

Masterlist

Rated: Explicit

Summary: Your ship has crashed on a planet with low oxygen. With no other options you begin a tenuous partnership with a strange prospector in need of your help fixing his pod. He’s charming but dangerous and if he finds out the whole truth about you, you’ll probably end up dead. With trouble closing in from all sides, you navigate this new connection and hope you both survive in one piece.

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence, blood and death, mentions of religion, sexual harassment (just a couple comments), me having no clue what asphyxiating is actually like, Two has a clear helmet for plot reasons, smut: unprotected PinV sex (there’s no STDs in space), cunnilingus, dom/sub elements, rough sex, size kink, choking (just a little), spitting, praise kink (this one surprised me), biting, a little dirty talk (it is Ezra) - let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Note: I was totally inspired to create this by @jura-moon​ ‘s fic Nostromo which lives in my head and without it, this never would have been written. I have used some of her story beats and ideas so absolute credit goes to her for that. This is sort of a fanfic of Nostromo in many ways 💘 I’d also like to throw thanks at @absurdthirst who reawakened my love of fics, @slater-baby who awoke something in me specifically, and especially to @danniburgh who not only deals with my damn near weekly requests for softness but who also got me to stop editing at 1am whilst drinking tequila. She did us all a favour, let’s be honest.

I hope everyone enjoys this behemoth. Don’t forget to reblog!

Wordcount: 22k

~~~~~~~~

It's not the worst planet to crash on.

The thought is so ridiculous you'd laugh if it wasn't for the blaring alarms and the screaming. Instead, you wrestle into the pilot’s seat and strap in. With the engine dead you'll have to manually time releasing the parachute. It's completely insane. Too early and the parachute burns, you crash into the ground and die. Too late and the parachute doesn't catch you, you crash into the ground and die. Provided you do survive you've at least got your suit on, oxygen tank attached, you'll be able to breath. The planet's oxygen is too low to survive for longer than two hours alone but it'll aid the tank and give you two days, three if you're careful, to get more. At least it isn't poisonous.

Thoughts all over the place you wonder where the other ship will fall. Hopefully close enough you can still make use of it. Hopefully they've got a good pilot.

You've been lucky this far, now all you can do is hope your luck holds. You break atmosphere flames blurring the view of the planet and then it's rushing to meet you. You start counting, watching it come closer, closer. You see the other ship careen away from you.

“Fuck!” Someone behind you shouts “Pull the damn lever are you trying to kill us all?!”

You ignore them, don't lose count. Ok

Three… two… one…

You close your eyes and pull.

You don't open your eyes.

No. For the first time in years. You pray.

⧫⧫⧫

Pain is the first thing you register, across your chest aches like, well, like you've just crashed a ship. The next is the smell, smoke, that can't be good, it's not entirely unpleasant though. Then the noise, someone's shouting in your ear telling you to get up, to move, they swear and leave you dangling upside down, still strapped into the pilots’ seat. Oh, that's why your chest hurts, ok, you think to yourself, you’re alive. You need to move. You need to open your eyes.

You do.

Lights are flashing, disorientating you more than your current position, blood rushing to your head. You reach up and press the release on the seat belt and drop to the floor, or maybe the ceiling, head first. Didn't think that one through you chastise yourself.  The engine is on fire, filling the hull with smoke but your legs are numb so, seizing your pack where it’s fallen beside you, you crawl to the light you think is the door and to your relief, flop outside.

No one notices you. They're all looking away, throwers out and pointed into the dead trees you sit back against the ship still reeling from the crash, too slow to realise how absolutely fucked you are. They come out the trees fast, even with spears and blades, you watch as the crew falls one by one. You can't process what you're seeing, frozen in place. Blood splatters, coming down like rain around you. Too late your body reacts and you stumble to your feet and run.

You get out of sight and then you stop, panting. Every breath aches your chest.

Something's wrong. Something you're not seeing. Right before your eyes. What is it?!

It hits you, slowly like a wave, realisation and then panic. You reach up slowly and touch your head. Gloves come away wet and dark with your blood.

Your helmet is shattered.

You aren't sure if you're crying or blood is dripping into your eyes. You suspect the blood. Feeling numb you keep moving, one foot in front of the other vaguely glancing down at the dial on your arm. After the running you'll be unconscious in at best an hour and a half, dead a little after that.

The petrified forest seems to close in around you. It’s a stillness like you’ve never experienced. Trees tower above you, skeletal branches reaching up like fingers. The limbs cast dark shadows in the bright sun, crossing over the dry brush underfoot, hiding foot falls and branches to trip on.

You walk on.

⧫⧫⧫

15 minutes left.

You decide to find a place to sit, ideally somewhere with a view but you can't me picky. A fallen tree does the job and you pull off the remainder of your helmet. Trying not to think about your imminent demise you look up. The suns are low, three of them. It twinges in your chest that you'll never go home, never see that sky again. Left to rot alone, no one who knows your traditions to perform your rites. Not that you deserve them. If you're going to put the ring back on, now would be the time. Make penance, but you don't think you can. Perhaps the hundred years wait is what you deserve.

7 minutes left.

There's someone approaching. Silhouetted against the scorching red sky, the heat rising from the ground distorting them, making you wonder if you’re hallucinating. The only clue they’re real is the crunch of the ground beneath their feet, but even that seems to echo around you.

Hope is the thing with feathers and it just flaps a wing wearily in your chest. And then stutters. The sun glints off their pistol, a beautiful sparkle that dims your hope. You do what you're good at, grab your own and shoot first. His gun flies from his hand and you smile, at least your aim is true. It falls off your face as quickly as it appears though as you feel a barrel press into your skull.

Clever buggers divided and conquered.

You drop your thrower but whoever it is doesn't lower theirs. “A little creature all alone,” a low voice drawls, “No helmet? No breath? What will we do with you?”

Staring straight at the man in front as he picks up your pistol and glares at you, you respond. “If we are going to chat, can we do it wherever your pod is? I have quite a story but I'll be dead in…” you look down at your dial, the gun increases its pressure on your skull as you try to suppress the panic “In about 5 minutes” the man remains silent, his pistol staying pressed into your skull. Your mind races, trying to find a way to argue your survival and clutches at the one thing you have. “I chose not to kill your friend when I could have done. Can you at least hear me out?”

The man behind you clicks his tongue “Ok! Well, I'm certainly intrigued and I'm sure even my partner here can't disapprove of allowing you to argue your case.” The comment seems pointed like he'll definitely disagree but even as you see his mouth twist he stays silent. “On your feet creature I'm not inclined to lug you back myself.” Standing the man lowers the thrower into your back and gently pushes you forward.

Their pod is close but you're feeling dizzier by the second and don't even think to protest when, as soon as you're in and the doors shut, the man at your back ties your hands behind you.

Focusing on him as he moves in front of you and pulls off his helmet you notice he’s favouring one arm and despite his sharp brown eyes, he looks feverish and drained. Not paying it much thought, you breathe deeply feeling sharper but it only draws your attention back to the pain in your body. Kevva you're tired. The urge to lie down and rest is near overwhelming, but the one who talks is eyeing you coldly for weakness, you’re no use if you can’t even stand.

Still, you try to get your bearings. The pod is small and rectangular, they haven’t turned the lights on and the looming shadows seem to pull in the walls, making your saviours into giants, making you feel like you’re pledging your case to The Olympians. There’s a small bench with a couple chairs next to a tiny stove and sink, there’s only one cot up against the wall, opposite what could be a cupboard but your eyes can’t make it out in the dim light.

“Now then creature, it's not every day we come across such a little thing with no air on this breathless planet and certainly not one who can shoot so damn straight!” The chuckles “I am just fascinated to know how you got into this predicament.”

You nod thinking carefully about your words. “We were a prospecting crew,” that's definitely a lie, “I'm an engineer but I know how to dig.” Well that's true at least, “Our ship fell of orbit but I managed to deploy the chutes in time so we didn't die on impact but…” you close your eyes as the images of the blood flashes before you.

“Let me guess your theatrical entrance gathered a welcoming party?”

“Something like that, I didn't realise my helmet had broken right away, I managed to run… I think everyone else is dead.” In a way you hope they are, else you really are in trouble.

The man is grinning at you, showing his teeth but the calculating gaze doesn’t falter “An engineer I'll be damned! And you can dig too? This is my lucky day. We happen to be in need of an engineer. See, our little pod has seen some better days and now it is unwilling to fly. Say, if you can fix it up and help us dig a smidgen, save us some time, we'll give you a lift out when the time comes? Quid pro quo”

An unwanted thought strikes you, settling deep in your stomach like a stone. “That sounds like a great deal but I won't be able to help you, not unless you supply me with a helmet.”

With that the other man seems to reach the end of his patience. And he moves gesturing at the talker.

“Now then, it just doesn't seem right to let such a pretty little thing suffocate on this rock... Well, I can't argue with that I suppose… I do apologise, little creature, I find myself, however unwittingly, agreeing with my partner. If you can’t help us then I can find no reasonable excuse to waste our resources on you. Looks like the deals off” he sighs “This is disappointing, I had such high hopes for our association.” With a shrug he pats your shoulder in sympathy that doesn’t meet his eyes. You shouldn't have hoped, your lucks all spent.

You take a deep breath, mind racing to find a way to survive, “Untie my hands at least, I'd appreciate some dignity as I walk to meet my maker.” You glance at your pack on the floor, you won’t need it now.

He pauses for a second, seeming to size you up before nodding and turning you around to face the door. In the reflection of the glass, you see the profile of his sharp features as he looks back, “Now then two, surely you can do the creature the quick the justice of a shot rather than a slow suffocation… Right good.” He cuts your hands loose and instantly the other man is there pressing his thrower into your back. You walk together, back into the waste.

There's only one way you're getting out of this so you close your eyes for a second and pause. He shoves you, lifting his gun to the back of your head. You take a breath and act.

Bending forwards and shoving your elbow up into his arm so the shot goes over your head, you spin knocking the gun aside and grab the small switchblade concealed in your pocket. He should have searched you. You don't hesitate as you stab him in the heart, following him to the ground and wrenching his helmet off. You close your eyes as the light leaves his.

Shaking off the nausea clamouring at you, you pull out the blade blanching as it sprays blood across you. You wipe it clean before stowing it away and then swipe a hand across your face, there’s no way to tell whether the deep red that rubs off on your hand is his or yours, or someone else’s. Feelin around in your pockets for a coin, you suppose the least you can do is pay his boatman so you place the coin under his tongue. You don’t pray. The dead don’t need it.

Ezra watches as you perform this strange ritual, he had to admit that he's captivated. Perhaps his wound has rotted so much he's delirious, finally driven mad by the toxins. Perhaps that was why he agreed to free your hands, why he didn’t check you for a blade. He considers you as he watches, so determined to stay alive.

You pull off the man's suit grateful he's small, even if it'll still swamp you, and grab his helmet. Stripping your own suit quickly you ignore the bandages on your forearm and pull his on. The fit isn't bad, it still seals around your wrists and ankles but it’s loose at your neck. You've got 12 minutes before you pass out unless you fix the hole your own knife made and get a tank of oxygen.

You look at the pod, the other man is watching you. Brown eyes piercing yours as if looking into your soul. It's him or nothing. You've got to try.

You approach the pod carrying your suit. Looking through the glass in the door and you gesture a setting for your radio, there’s a click followed by his harsh breathing.

“That was not especially kind, little creature. I certainly underestimated your ferociousness”

You shrug, “It was him or me.”

“What makes your existence so exponentially more important than his d’you think?”

You frown, “I didn't decide that it did, the powers that be choose. I did bring a knife to a gunfight” He smiles slightly and lets out a little chuckle.

Ezra watches you carefully, you look so tired, so small as you lean against the door of the pod his feverish brain seems to be attempting to soften a long-hardened heart. Still, he's not an idiot. “I'm afraid letting you in may be a detriment to my state of being, creature, you are indeed viscous and I'm not inclined to trust someone that murdered my acquaintance with so little hesitation.” He watches your eyes closed and for a second you look so hopeless but when they open, they've hardened.

“I could simply pull apart your pod from the outside, make sure you suffocate with me!” The last words come out in a shout of frustration. You bang your hand against the glass window of the door.

He glares at you, his voice low and menacing “I do not take lightly to threats, creature.”

This day’s too long, too hard, you've done too much. How many deaths? You realise that you can't kill someone for, sensibly, not letting you in. You laugh “I feel like the wolf at your door,” you sigh god your head hurts “There's no point!” you gesture, “Killing you would do nothing but damn me further I won't kill you out of spite. Fuck!” You glance and the dial on your arm,

6 minutes.

You turn away and sit, suit back against the door. It's as nice a spot as any. “I will choose to die here though I think, just as a reminder that you killed me when I fall through the next time you head out”

You chuckle at the macabre thought then turn off your radio and pull off the helmet.

3 minutes.

The final sun is setting, this really is Apollo's world and it is beautiful. The orange sky outlines the forest’s hands like an oil painting waving you off. Not a bad place to go at all.

2 minutes.

At least it's quiet.

1 minute.

Black spots are filling your vision, blurring out the beauty. Rude you think to yourself and you let out a delirious giggle.

The door behind you slides open and a strong hand grabs the back of the suite as you flop back, hauling you in, snagging the helmet and sealing the door. You don’t move, staring at the ceiling for a second breathing deeply.

Ezra drops heavily down onto the cot and watches you, you're quite something up close even covered in another's blood and your own, you're beautiful. He imagines this is what a witch would look like after a ritual, all blood and magic and secrets.

You open your eyes and peer up at him. “What changed your mind?”

He grins “Call it a reckless curiosity fuelled by this festering limb of mine.” He gestures to his arm.

It’s your turn to size him up, he seems to be looking worse by the minute and now slumped against the wall, you could probably just kill him and take what you need. Maybe you would if he hadn’t let you in. “Perhaps I can patch it up, I've got steady hands and too much experience with wounds from weapons” you struggle into a seated position with a grunt as pain flashes.

“You might as well have a gander, I'm afraid if left to my own devices I'll have to saw the thing off myself or else perish” He frowns down at his twitching fingers, “I do believe this may be my lowest point, little creature. I invite in trouble and then ask it for help? I have certainly had preferable days, for instance, when the ship I was presiding upon became infested with channel rats seems superior to today.”

You hum in reply not really paying attention as he continues to talk. Reaching for your pack, you pull out a pretty well stocked surgery kit.  “I'll numb it as best I can but it's not much”

“Anything that alleviates this agony will be a blessing little creature” You raise an eyebrow at him in acknowledgment, clearly doubting it as you hand him a tablet which he swallows. He pulls off his shirt and you examine the wound trying not to stare at his strong arms and broad chest. It’s a couple days old and badly infected, you’ll have to get out the rot before you can think of sealing it.

“Lie back” you tell him

“Perhaps in another situation your choice of language would be quite desirable” he smirks at you, not succeeding in disguising the worry in his face.

You sigh at the comment “Scream all you need but don't move”

That makes him chuckle, “You're a siren luring me in to slay me, aren't you?” His jaw clenches as you start cutting away the rotted flesh. It is slow work, carefully taking as little pink away as possible. To his credit he doesn't move a muscle and you know it must be agony. He talks the entire time, telling the tale of how he got himself shot in such a long-winded way you can’t tell the truth from the fiction. It seems to give him distraction though, so you don’t ask if he’s lying. As you close the wound with foam, he smiles at you, softer than before.

“Names Ezra, by the way.” Then he passes out.

He’s rather strange you decide, but most prospectors are. You’ve got to be a bit odd to spend your days nearly isolated on hostile planets. Asleep he looks peaceful, none of the calculating gaze or darkness. That little patch of blonde is so distinctive, you find yourself almost hypnotised by his face. Frowning at yourself you move away and sit back against the other side of the pod facing the cot.

A few things left to do with him unconscious, you pull off the stolen suit and grab the patch gun from your pack, melting it closed. You pull it back on and holster your pistol. Sitting back, you take a pill from your med kit to ease the pain in your chest and let it pull you into sleep.

Unsurprisingly, you wake before him. You check he's alive then pack your stuff together. You're even, you suppose. He saved your life. You saved his (or at least his arm) and you'd rather not stay around to find out if, when less fevered, he decides to get more even with you for killing his partner. He did give you his name though and names are powerful things so you pull out your notebook and leave a note as you grab an oxygen tank.

You glance behind you as the door seals behind you but you don’t turn back. If you head towards the ship your crew had brought down yesterday, it should have an escape pod still on it. Hopefully you can fix it up if needs be. You follow your compass East.

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra wakes slowly, he hasn't slept so deeply in years, he feels comfortable if a little cold and slowly he opens his eyes. The previous day returns to him in a haze, a pretty face and bright eyes glaring through the door, a gesture to old gods, his arm…

He looks down and moves his fingers. It's good, remarkably so, still stiff and aching but whatever you’d given him seems to have hurried his healing. That stuffs expensive. Not the sort of thing a prospector would usually have and certainly not something they'd share. You were quite strange, he concludes, but fascinating. Why on earth would someone who could act so brutally for their own survival give him something so valuable? Sure, he let you in but you certainly hadn't needed to let him know you had such a thing in your possession. He supposed guilt over his partner, perhaps you were truly naïve or, bizarrely, you could have money. Which would create a more baffling question of just how you ended up here.

It doesn't occur to Ezra for a moment the other reason, until he looks around the pod to find you gone along with a portable oxygen canister leaving a bit of paper in its place. Things stolen hold less value.

The paper was clearly torn from a notebook on it, it simply said your name.

He curses pulling on his suit and following your tracks into the forest. The trail is light but visible, branches broken where you’d passed, dry brush crushed under your feet. He moves quickly, sure of his footing after spending so much time navigating the dead forest. He’s only travelled about a mile before he can hear you moving ahead.

⧫⧫⧫

You walk through the trees, one sun shining above you warming your bones. As you check your direction you pause. A twig snaps and you freeze listening carefully. There's another noise behind you and you spin tensing. You can't see anything or anyone as you peer around you, the forest is too dense.

A body crashes into you from behind flinging you into the ground, looping something around your neck. Your head ricochets off the inside of your helmet shaking your brain, opening the cut again but not breaking the glass. You try to lurch up but get nowhere so you roll into your back with them now beneath you but the cord around your neck holds you back. Choking, you catch your fingers in it so you can breathe and pull forwards, hard, rolling again and thrusting your helmet back into theirs, loosening their grip enough so you can pull the cord away, only for them to shove you head down into the ground.

The world is swimming now, wobbling around you as you try to get your body to listen to you. To get away. To fight back. Anything! But their weight on your back prevents you from moving. You try to look out of the corner of your eye to see your opponent but get nothing. It surprises you when a tear tracks down your face. You suppose you have been putting off the inevitable for days now, Kevva has called you back.

Whoever it is clicks on your radio and a familiar voice hisses, “You stupid fucking cunt, I'm bringing you to hell with-“ A shot rings out and the body slumps on top of you, you lift yourself up and shove it off sitting up on your haunches looking around for the shooter.

It's him, Ezra, gun still trained on you. He watches you halt, eyes wide.

“You took something of mine, and although usually I don't go out of my way to find trouble, which you little creature certainly are. I awoke to find myself abandoned and a little peeved to discover that you had liberated a couple of my possessions and shimmied out of part of our prior agreement.”

Your heads still spinning and with the blood trickling into your eye you find it immensely difficult to focus on what he is saying. “Prior agreement?”

“Yes indeed. You'll find you had affirmed in exchange for breath you would fix up my little ship so when the time comes, I may leave this barely liveable planet. I do not appreciate reneging”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“On your feet creature,” he approaches, “I find myself growing impatient.” You stand and instantly stumble forward. He grabs onto your shoulder steadying you, his other hand darting out before you can relax and snagging your thrower from its holster. “I underestimated you once, I will not again. Now, your assailant seemed to know you, if I'm not mistaken, by the way they deemed to remark upon you. Pray tell me the tale?”

Looking at him you do feel a lot like prey. He's close, grip still firm on your shoulder and towering over you. A grin showing all his teeth like a wolf, all you would need is a red cloak and you’re dinner.

You glance down at the body and clench your jaw, it was Cora. Formally, a member of your crew, she had always distrusted you. Rightfully so, you think to yourself.

Steadying yourself you shrug off Ezra's grip, ignoring the gun still aimed at you and kneel down to pull off her helmet. Taking a coin from your pocket you place it under her tongue and look back up at him, the helmet still in your grasp. He's watching you curiously, seeming to be rolling words around in his mouth as if completely thrown by your behaviour.

“She was part of my crew, I was the engineer so the crash was my fault,” well that was definitely true.

Ezra chuckles darkly, “I'm not too sure I want you to repair my ship after all, creature. Your predilection for incident does appear wearisome.”

You tilt your head up at him, “See any other engineers around here?”

“I suppose you'll have to do, but I will be watching you mighty closely little bird, in case you decide to take flight again.” You frown at the new nickname but don't get a chance to argue as you both hear a horn a little way off. “Unfortunately, my shot appears to have alerted the ever-irritable locals to our location.” He grabs your arms and hauls you back to your feet pulling you along with him as he walks back the way you had come, Cora’s helmet still clasped in your hand. “Luckily the settlers are not quick on their feet, I must say.”

You can't think of a response, your head is still reeling and your feet feel like lead as you trudge after him, his hand gripping firmly onto your wrist.

You're grateful you hadn't travelled far when he tugs you into the pod. Closing the door and turning, Ezra finds you slumping down to sit on the floor ripping off your helmet and attempting to wipe the blood out of your eye. It feels a little voyeuristic as he watches you tug off the suit soaked with his partner's blood, revealing the black insulating vest and leggings beneath before flopping back eyes closed for a moment. You feel his stare and pointedly ignore it as you grab your own suit, abandoned the day before, and shimmy into it. Cora had the same suit and so her helmet will fit yours. You feel a little relief at no longer having to wear the blood of someone you'd killed, not to mention more secure in something that fits.

Glancing up at Ezra as you transfer your possessions between pockets yet again you see he's elected to tie his suit up around his waist revealing those damn arms again. He crouches down in front of you and gently grasps your chin to tilt your head up at him. “That's quite the cut you've got there little bird.”

He carefully watches your face but your head is still fuzzy so with no retort he moves away from you and picks up your med kit. He cleans your wound gently, wiping the dried blood off your face. As he does, you study him. Close up you can see the wrinkles around his eyes from when he smiles and the curved scar on his cheek. Fighting off the impulse to trace your fingers over it, you ask how he got it. He grins as he places a plaster on your head “Now that’s quite a story” but you don’t get to hear it yet, sounds outside means the settlers have found the pod.

“They'll leave provided they don't know we're here” He grumbles, tugging you into the cupboard running along the wall.

It’s slim but long inside, there are blankets on the floor, a lantern and a small stack of tattered books. “Do you sleep in a cupboard?” you have to ask but you do your best to keep the incredulity out of your tone.

“I'd rather you didn't insult my little burrow as a guest, there's only one cot in this pod and I lost the wager so I made do. I think you’ll find it’s rather cosy”

You nod, a little thrown by his change in attitude since being in the forest. As you both sit you watch his face in the golden light of the lamp. It makes him appear to glow, almost like a painting. He'd look almost relaxed if it wasn't for how his eyes were watching you carefully.

Ezra studies your features, if you hadn't been such a bringer of chaos, he'd think he'd made you up, that, or Kevva had reached into his head and plucked you out. You're just perfect, perhaps anything his own mind could come up with would have to come with chaos, there was no fun without it.

The quiet moment is disrupted by a bang on the side of the pod, you jump and Ezra tenses slightly but seems to be expecting it. “They're trying to frighten out anyone inside” he whispers, “If we stay quiet and hidden, we'll be just fine”

You nod and tilt your head back against the wall trying to block out the noise as Ezra reaches for the book at the top of his stack. You read the title ‘Perfume’, you haven't heard of it but judging by the battered pages and writing in the margins Ezra knows it intimately. He glances at you. “It is a tale of a man who gets so enraptured with the scent of a woman he endeavours to turn her essence into perfume.”

You hum in response “That sounds a little morbid.”

Reaching into your bag you pull out a similarly dog-eared copy of ‘The Power’ and do your best to ignore the man opposite you.

Ezra frowns at his book. It's not often a good read fails to pull him into its world but something about your presence has driven him to distraction. Instead, he closes the book and continues to study you, it's a nice change having a stranger in such close quarters. You're frowning at your book a little furrow in your brow he finds endearing. It's only then he notices you're shaking. He wonders if it's from the death of your friend, from the settlers’ insistent pounding on the side of the pod or from him. He supposes it's quite scary to be trapped in a small space with someone twice your size and he hasn't exactly been kind to you. Ezra frowns to himself, not that you've given him a reason to act kindly. You will be useful to each other but there's no point making friends on such rough terms.

You look up meeting his eye as he glowers at you and swiftly glance away, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“You said you came to prospect?” he murmurs to you. You look back at him, wide eyed, and nod. “Good, you can help me finish me dig, 60/40 split, since you so callously divested me of my partner.”

You nod “You ridded me of mine too. Looks like we're even again. Equal split.” He’s tempted to laugh at your boldness, negotiating with no leverage. He keeps his face stern, unwilling to let you know how much he is enjoying your spark.

“I don't think so.” he speaks lowly making you tense, “I will permit that without you my arm would be about as useful as stim gum is at staving off hunger. And at least to me my arm is equal to a partner.” He tilts his head at you, the light cutting plains across his skin, “Even so… we still aren't even. That’s twice I saved your troublesome arse. One could suggest you’re indebted to me.”

To his surprise you nod, even as your jaw clenches and he watches you swallow “I guess I'll have to make it up to you another way. Even split or I don’t dig” That breaks him, he can’t hold in his grin at your fearlessness. He strongly suspects you’ve had an abundance of practice getting what you're owed from characters more unscrupulous than himself. He frowns at that, even hardened prospectors treat him warily, there must be something else to you. He agrees though, more out of curiosity than necessity.

“Even split it is then.”

⧫⧫⧫

You both agree there's no point going out to dig with the settlers so close but after the noise has subsided Ezra looks you over and suggests you shower. You don't tell him what a gift that is but he sees how your eyes light up at the prospect of washing off the past days’ grime. He hands you a towel and as the water starts running, he distracts himself from picturing you naked by satisfying some of his inquisitiveness and going through your pack.

There's not much of interest. Your med kit, some protein bars, instant caf, ammunition but in the front pocket he finds an old ring. Round like a signet but instead of a family emblem it is simply a small coin, plated in gold. He studies it, it's roughly hewn, well-made but not particularly fine. He wonders if you stole this too, but it isn't flashy and everything else you've taken had been useful so he posits it is yours, but why don't you wear it? Frowning he puts it back as he spots a notebook, worn and well-loved but as he reaches for it the water shuts off and he leaves your pack, choosing to get nourishment for you both before you sleep.

You emerge dressed just in your leggings and vest, Ezra gestures to the seat noticing the bandage on your arm. “What did you do that your mystical little tablets cannot heal?”

You finger the material absentmindedly, “Oh it's an old wound I keep reopening, better to keep it covered to prevent infection.”

He peers at you clearly unconvinced but he doesn’t question you further, you avoid his eyes looking at the floor as he sticks some food in front of you. “Eat up little creature, we've hard work to do tomorrow and we'll need our energy.”

You take a mouthful before asking, “Where will we sleep?”

“Better we stay out of sight in case our hospitable friends return, so back into the burrow. And I'd rather keep you close in case you start to feel flighty again” You sigh but to his surprise don't argue, perhaps the settlers really did shake you.

Ezra returns to studying you as you both eat, without your suit on he can see the harsh bruises around your neck where your former friend had tried to strangle you but the gash through your eyebrow has stopped bleeding and fresh from the shower, you're quite the vision. It has been so long since he'd had another body to warm his bed and you look so soft and vulnerable without the suit and imminent danger, he finds himself picturing you under him, writhing, brow furrowed like before. His hands grabbing your arms, your hips, your neck- He shakes himself of the image. Your partnership is tenuous at best without bringing in the pleasures of the flesh and he doesn't really want to scare you off potentially leaving him alone and trapped on this world.

When you've eaten you head into Ezra's ‘burrow’ as he called it and settle opposite each other, legs stretched out in front, feet almost touching. Ezra is next to the door ensuring you can't leave without waking him but you're not inclined to try, you know your luck is running out. You're grateful he doesn't try to scare you into staying, instead curiously he picks up his book and looks at you. 

“I propose an exchange, it appears we are both almost prepared to recite our beloved tomes cover to cover, so, would you acquiesce your book for mine?”

You shrug, “I wouldn't mind something new but I'm not sure how much you'd enjoy ‘The Power’ and I have nothing else.”

He smiles his eyes crinkling with amusement, “Well then, read me the blurb and let me decide for myself. It seems only I would know what I may delight in.”

“It's about how women become the dominant gender in the world, told by a man in the future where a male dominated society seems absurd.”

Ezra grins, “I am intrigued! It'll be a joy to discuss books with another person, a pleasure I can rarely partake in”

You smile back as you swap books. A tentative exchange that leaves you both a little hopeful for the progress of your partnership.

You both read in silence until you yawn twice in a row causing Ezra to yawn too and he suggests you turn in. Or you guess he does, his choice of language seems to baffle you here and there. He wrangles a blanket out from under you and you settle in, top to tail, his feet level with your chest and yours to below his hip. You didn't realise how the adrenaline of the day had worn you out and you're asleep in seconds. 

You awake on your front, head nestled into your arm. It's pitch black and there's a weight on your ankle. Trying not to panic you wait for your eyes to adjust and peer over your shoulder to see what's grabbed you. It's Ezra.

Asleep on his back one hand on his stomach where the blankets had been shoved down and his under shirt had risen revealing a strip of tan skin glowing in the low light. You try not to focus on that. His other hand, by his side wrapping nearly all the way around your ankle. You wonder if he grabbed you awake to stop you trying to escape or if unconscious, he simply wanted to keep your warm body close, that idea makes you feel a little soft, this is easily the gentlest he's touched you apart from patching your head. You debate if you should shake him off but you don't want to wake him and his warm hand is anchoring so you just put your head back down on your arms and go back to sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra had his sleeping pattern nailed down, a necessary thing for a prospector, usually out cold for 7 hours so he's surprised when he startles awake. He doesn't usually dream. He grasps at the threads of images his mind had conjured committing them to memory. It was about you and it was enough to make him flush and now as he rouses himself, he gently detaches his hand from your ankle unsure about when he grabbed it. It's still early, he looks over you asleep on your stomach breathing slowly. He sighs adjusting himself in his pants if he can't get these images of his head, he's going to have an even more difficult time working with you than he already will. Desire is fickle like that he supposes, giving him a beautiful creature, he can't trust. One who is clearly concealing something and who certainly doesn't desire him in return. A beep tells him the suns are rising and you begin to stir

“Arise little bird, a day off struggle and fortune lays in wait.”

You grumble in return shuffling onto your back and sitting. Ezra tries not to stare as the blanket slips away revealing your body. To avoid further thoughts, he leaves his burrow taking his suit, subtly clutching it to his front so as not to alert you to his predicament, and heads for the shower to sort himself out, eternally grateful that the pod had connected to an underground lake making the water supply essentially infinite. Hopefully a brisk wash will clear his head and body of the lust.

You flop back and sigh. That damn blonde tuft and those sharp features were following you even into sleep. It had been far too long since you'd enjoyed another person and if it wasn't for the dilemma you were in, Ezra would be an easy yes. Broad and handsome and charming in a way that just spelled trouble, but your uneasy alliance, and your lies, and the fact that he could easily kill you make you especially wary of being vulnerable in the way you truly crave. Instead, you shake yourself, grab your pack, dig around for that terrible instant caf and leave the cupboard.

Ezra's shower was doing nothing for his erection. Feeling a little exasperated he grasps it harshly and tries not to picture you so vivid in his dream moaning around him. The water raining down on him acts as a lubricant as he harshly begins pumping his hand not wanting to take his time and fall into a fantasy of you. It doesn't work, he imagines how soft your hands would be, how wet you'd be, how he'd take you here up against the tiles. It's quick and dirty. He grunts, swears, then cums, the water washing the sin away leaving him panting and if anything, more frustrated than before.

You hear Ezra swear in the shower and wonder vaguely if he dropped something as you grab two mugs and start heating water for caf. The shower shuts off and you look round as he emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes are dark and he looks furious so you turn away and try not to think about how the water droplets on his broad shoulders shimmer as he disappears back into the cupboard.

Seeing you there, making you both caf, dressed in your underclothes sparked a craving of domesticity within Ezra. For the briefest moment you weren't a reluctant partner on a hostile planet, instead you were a lover he could wrap his arms around from behind as you giggle and try to get breakfast and it aches.

When Ezra re-emerges, dressed with his hair sticking in all directions, you've put his caf on the small bench and are sitting waiting for him. He sits too and picks it up.

“There's only a couple months left in the dig” he says, “You up to it? I will be displeased if you slow us down”

You glare, so this is what he's worried about, “Don't worry I've had plenty of practice. If anything, I'd worry about your arm!”

He grins at you “No need to fret little creature, I managed to do my job with a hole in it and with your miraculous medication, it is only a little unyielding.” He carefully looks over your face, “Speaking of, I would appreciate you being candid in not only the precise location you acquired such a potion but why in Kevva you deigned see fit to give it to me?”

He watches you chew on your words, “I relieved them from a man who sought to take from me, and I gave them to you to even my debt. You saved my life if I didn't give you one, I wouldn't have been able to save your arm.”

What a strange little thing, he thinks, so worried about balance, “Did you happen to also relieve this man of his life?” You stare into your cup and don't answer “Well if he sought to take from you, I'll assume it was just.”

You sit in silence as Ezra smoothly changes the subject and grabs a bar for you, spinning quite the tale as you eat. Not stopping for breath as you pull on your suits, boots and helmets, only pointing you towards the equipment you need to grab before opening the door and leading you back into waste.

Ezra hadn't given you back your thrower which you supposed was fair although he had left you your blade which you're sure he remembered you carried. Perhaps a little act of faith to gain your trust? It didn't hurt. 

As you approach the site Ezra looks back at you, “Stay close little creature we wouldn't want you to get lost.” His voice is low and threatening and sends a shiver down your spine that isn't entirely fear. You nod slowly and he grins, wolf-like just as before, as if outside you the pod he is an entirely different beast to reckon with. 

“I'll get in the pit and do the heavy lifting, you can treat and polish on the surface, we'll go for as long as we've got light and head back. It's gonna be a long day little bird”

The dig comes as a relief, the repetitive labour clears your head and Ezra seems to be filled to the brim with stories and anecdotes, although, you don't think you're actually learning much about him. The way he talks is open yet totally guarded, as if he has the compulsion to speak but the sense not to trust you. You aren't offended, it's not like you're exactly opening up to him either. The day passes quickly like this and as the sun dips too low to see well Ezra hauls himself out of the pit, tells you to pack up and you both head back to the pod to eat and sleep. You wake with his hand around your ankle again.

⧫⧫⧫

A couple of days in, the suns seem to be burning even hotter than before. The dig is gruelling and you’re grateful Ezra so far, hadn’t let you into the pit. You aren’t sure you could bear it in this heat. By the time you finish and return to the pod, taking off your helmet is a relief. You feel hot and sticky and bone tired so you plop yourself down into the cot in the main room still in your suit. Ezra chuckles, “You must be out of practice, else you'd still find these long days easy.”

Ah, so he is bringing it up. You raise your head to look at him, “I still kept up with you, didn't I?”

“True, true, although I am not functioning at full capacity at the present time.” He gestures to his arm.

You flop back and gaze at the ceiling, “Or I just survived a crash from space a few days ago and I'm still a bit worn out.”

That makes him laugh. It's a big warm noise, that makes you giggle too at the absurdity of it all. 

“Are you confident you wish to slumber there?”

“Why? You afraid I'm going to make another break for it?”

His grin is just a little softer now, “A little. But if I were you, I'd be more concerned about the neighbours might pop by.”

“Shit, alright” you sit up and instantly yawn.

“Let's get some food in you and turn in, little bird. If I'm not careful I'll have to carry you into my burrow.”

Smiling back, you mock him a little, “With your arm? I'm not sure you'd be capable.”

At that he grins and you realise you've given him a challenge he won't back down from. Stalking up to you like a cat he seizes you under the arms and hauls you against his chest making you huff and giggle as you try to wriggle free. He carries you across the pod like you weigh nothing and plonks you down on the little work bench. Hovering too close for just a moment too long, his breath ghosting your cheek.

“Now how about you keep your smart comments to yourself, lest I have to keep proving you wrong?” he smiles at you, letting you see the crow’s feet by his eyes. 

“I'll admit defeat this time I suppose, but you really should go easy on that arm!”

Ezra turns away from you, his heart pounding a little and reluctant to leave your embrace. Instead, he ignores the feeling urging him to clasp you close and grabs your food. As you slide off the bench and into a seat, he hands you a bowl. Neither of you attempt to meet the other's eye and both of you fail to see the flushed face of your companion.

Once again sleep comes easy, the hard work making your body crave rest to heal but even so in the dark you wake. There's no rush of panic this time instead you feel warm and sleepy as you glance at Ezra at the other end of the cupboard. He's not grasping your ankle instead his side is pressed against yours, leg to leg. It's cosy and in your half-awake state you don't think about how you had gone to sleep separated, and who had sought out whom in the black.

The next day goes much the same, you bicker before you head out deciding who should be in the pit and who shouldn't. Ezra concedes that he'll do the treating of the gems today if you keep alternating so neither of you gets too worn out. You agree though you point out yet again that he needs to go easy on his arm and he points out your bruises and gash on the head as hypocrisy. It's an argument with no malice and it feels refreshing to have a go at someone without worrying they'll get angry and shoot you. Although perhaps you should be more concerned by how at ease you are. If he was to see the scar on your arm, you doubt he'd be so understanding. 

As the day ends Ezra offers you his hand to pull you out of the pit, his touch lingering in yours for just a second too long.

⧫⧫⧫

Working like this you form a sort of routine. Up early, dig till you can't see, talk, eat, sleep, press together in the night. Ezra is starting to reveal little details about himself, where he was born, how he got into prospecting, his favourite books. In a way it makes you feel guilty for staying guarded, only relinquishing the barest details about yourself, but if he notices he doesn't point it out. 

A month passes like this and as you watch Ezra hop into the pit you wonder vaguely if he'll ever run out of things to talk about. He describes an incident where an amateur prospector managed to get his arm stuck in the pit resulting in its brutal amputation but your attention fails as you wait for the next potential gem and you look into the trees behind you. 

An uneasy feeling claws at you so trusting your gut you tell Ezra to shut up and get down out of sight just as someone emerges. No one you recognise, thank Kevva, and not a settler either. They are carrying a rifle though. Bowing your head to your work so they can't see your mouth move, you quickly describe what's happening.

“I can only see one, he's armed. A prospector. You stay quiet unless I shout.”

“Right then birdie. I await your call.”

You look up at the man staying on your knees and gesture your radio setting.

“What's someone like you doing out here all alone?” You repress a shudder at his tone.

“Same as you, I expect, making my way in the universe.” He comes closer and you fight the urge to back away but you don't want to draw attention to Ezra. “I don't have much to offer you and I don't take kindly to thieves.”

“Big talk from someone unarmed.” Wishing Ezra had given back your thrower, you stand and decide an attempt to bargain will be the best option.

“What do you want then, we can trade.”

“I'm not looking to trade anymore, I'm stuck here. My team's dead.” He levels his gun at you. “If you take me to your ship, I'll let you live for a price. Protest too much and I'll shoot and have my way while you bleed out.”

You gulp and stand starting to back away. Even with the element of surprise Ezra will have to act quick and be lucky if you both want to live. Why would he though, he doesn't have much motivation to risk his life for yours, he'll just have to hitch another ride. The man keeps moving towards you as you reach the edge of the pit, eyes not leaving your face and presses the gun to your chest. You glance down for a moment, hoping he doesn't look too, and see wide brown eyes and a miniscule nod. 

At the same moment Ezra reaches up, you drop back into the pit and land heavily on your back, winded. He slices across your assailants achilles tendon and grabs onto his leg pulling him in after you. Frozen in place, you watch the tussle, for the first time properly witnessing how formidable of a foe Ezra can be. His size and strength easily overpower the other man as he rolls on top, throwing down heavy blows that fill the air with the soft thuds of impact, like a heartbeat. A yell is cut off with a gurgle as Ezra shoves his blade into the man’s neck repeatedly, using his weight to hold the man down until he stills.

There's a moment before he turns, he lowers his head trying hard to calm his harsh breathing and sighs. “I do apologise little bird,” he turns to you scowl in place, eyes dark. “For my brutality, I'd rather you didn't have to bear witness.”

His voice is low and he's watching you carefully as you sit up. You feel lost for words at how far he'd gone to defend you, you wonder how close he got to becoming the man dead in front of you. Alone and cruel. All you can do is nod in response.

Ezra curses himself at how quiet you've become. Moving the body out of the pit had taken time and once done, as he watched you place a coin in his mouth, he'd announced that to continue the dig today would be futile with adrenaline running so high and at your nod you had gathered the equipment and headed back to the pod. He watches you carefully as you pull off your suit and decides that the fact you didn't just sprint for the trees after what he did was a good sign. But you continue to surprise him.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “For not letting him…”

“Nonsense, without the pleasure of your company I don't doubt my humanity would soon become as weathered as his own.” He frowns, “It was rather like being visited by the ghost of Christmas yet to come.” You tilt your head not really sure what that means but he shrugs. “Don't fret about it.”

Then there's silence as you watch each other. Lost in thought as you make your meal and eat.

Ezra ponders on the panic he felt deep in his chest at the waver in your voice. He wonders when saving you switched from utilitarian need to something more. He knows how stupid it is to get attached, how reckless. But your bright eyes and determination to stay alive were admirable and captivating and he craves to know more, what makes you laugh, how well you'd take him. He sighs and attempts to brush the lust aside. Even if you weren't terrified of him, he just knew you were concealing something.

The silence stretches out, both unwilling to break it, as you head into the burrow. For the first time, you sleep next to each other. 

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra is wrapped around you when you wake, safe and warm and comforting. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, its steady rhythm relaxing you before your brain starts whirring. Then you feel guilty, like you're taking advantage of him. He doesn't realise how much you enjoy him holding you close and you certainly don't deserve it. The weight of your lies heavy on your shoulders you ease out of his arms, careful not to wake him, and leave the sanctuary of the burrow. 

A wonderful dream slips away from him as he stirs. His little bird's weight in his arms, grounding him, giving him something to protect. Looking round for you and finding you gone, he swears and stumbles to his feet. Kevva, he hoped you hadn't left him alone.

He almost sighs with relief when he leaves his burrow just to spot you sitting by the window watching the suns rise, notebook in hand and mug beside you. You look up, a little wary of his wide eyes but shrug. “I couldn't sleep.”

“Me neither little creature, my dreams are haunted.” He picks up your mug and takes a sip, with a grimace he says “Can you truly enjoy something so acrimonious?”

You chuckle, “Habit I guess.”

“Well, it's certainly rousing” he smiles at you “What are you scribbling there?”

“I had a look round the ship, it's all the repairs I need to do.” You hesitate, “If we swing by the other crashed ship for a couple parts, we can be gone in two days.”

Ezra's eyes darken just a little, his voice low, “You wouldn't be trying to wiggle out of our agreement now? The dig isn't done and I demand satisfaction.”

He watches your mouth twist, “It's just I think our luck's run, the longer we stay the more trouble we're going to get like yesterday.”

“That cannot be helped, little creature. I'd like to live well for a while, and so, the dig must be completed.” You think to that other ship, there's immeasurable wealth on it but you can't tell him. Then he'd know what you were. So instead, you nod and start preparing for the day.

The change in your attitude has Ezra feeling nervous. He realises if he doesn't show a little faith, you won't feel safe and he'll lose you, and possibly himself. Just before opening the door to the waste, he turns to you, “Here.”

He's holding your pistol out to you, frowning slightly, you peer up at him “What?”

“If something like yesterday happens again I'd rather you be able to look after yourself,” you nod and reach for it but he keeps it in his grip for a moment, “Don't get any ideas” his voice is low and dangerous eyes hard on you. You swallow and nod shoving it into your holster.

To your relief the dig is quiet and Ezra has returned to chatting away to you from his perch outside the pit and eventually you're able to chat back making him laugh as the day passes.

There's a change between you, him trusting you to be armed has given you a chance to breathe, but, with that a new tension has come between you. One you're trying very hard to ignore. It’s crawled into your head and planted thoughts of closeness, of more, that you can ignore during the day but not at night.

After that day you'd formed a new routine. Going to sleep next to Ezra and waking up feeling secure in his arms before the guilt hits and you leave before he wakes. Not letting him know the comfort you've found there. 

⧫⧫⧫

Apart from the locals coming to bang on your walls every few days, weeks pass incident free as you both perform this dance around each other. Ezra finds that his cold showers are doing less and less to quell his lust, and heart is another matter entirely. So, he ignores it, treats you a little coolly, tries not to scare you off, it's getting more difficult now nearly every night he dreams of you. Sometimes it's lewd, sometimes you're chatting together, the worst are when he dreams he's just holding you. He might think it was real if not for how when he wakes up you aren't there.

Until the morning he wakes first. 

He's groggy, breathing deeply and so, so comfortable. It takes a moment to get his bearings. Shifting slightly, he realises how he's curled around you, hand on the strip of skin of your stomach where your shirt has rolled up, face pressing into the back of your neck and he has to fight the urge to kiss it. When you moan quietly, he props himself up on his arm looking down at you in the low light. For a moment he thinks you're having a nightmare but you flushed, breathing shallowly and he's certain you aren't. When you whimper, he shudders, such a pretty noise. He feels tempted to stay pressed against you, to touch you, to make you make more of those noises. He fights it off, and eases away from you stepping out of the warmth of his burrow. 

He thinks, perhaps later he can talk to you, there's nothing wrong with getting some pleasure and easing some stress in each other’s arms. There isn't long left of the dig and then you'll go your separate ways, the thought stings a little. He leans back against the door. Kevva, he craves more, he wants to learn every inch of you intimately, to learn what makes you tick, to wake up with you in his arms. It aches deep in his chest, so many years spent in poor company. He hears you moan once more and groans himself, pushing off the door he trudges to the shower.

For the first time in ages, he runs it hot before stepping in and grasping his cock. He lets himself take his time, starting slow, increasing the pace till he feels like he could explode then slowing right back down again. He doesn't fight off the images of you that spring into his head now he knows what you can sound like. He imagines you making them with his tongue on you, fingers buried in you as he presses you down, how you'd whine his name, how you'd beg. Ezra grunts, staving off his orgasm once more his cock red and throbbing with his heartbeat. He pictures sinking into you, hot and wet with you pliable in his arms as he fucks you into the ground. He cums hard with a growl and a curse and then curses himself both for being loud and for allowing himself to yearn for you, then finally he begins to wash.

⧫⧫⧫

You wake with a start, panting. Your dream is vivid in your mind. Ezra grasping your hands so you couldn't move as he fucked you with his tongue moaning against you. He'd talked too, both eloquent and totally filthy as he got you exactly where he wanted you. You huff, now you were left frustrated and still pining for a man who must just see you as a utility, a way to get off this planet. Hell, he barely even knew anything about you, didn't know the most important thing. But you know you can't stay in this limbo for long now, the digs nearly done and after then what can you do. There are two options, tell him who you are and how you feel and hope for the best or just ignore it, get off the planet, take your money, and go live the quiet life you'd intended. You focus on this debate and instead of the wetness between your legs as you leave the cupboard.

You look around for Ezra and exhale as you hear the shower running, there's no way for him to know what you were dreaming of, right?

That's when you hear him, it's a low, erotic groan followed by a string of swear words and you flush as you became achingly aware of how wound tight you are. You turn away and try to ignore it, heating up water for both of your cafs as the shower stops. 

As it brews the steel door swings open and Ezra emerges wrapped in a towel and glowering, you ignore his stare and the way droplets of water slide down his chest making you want to lick him as you hand him a mug. 

Ezra watches you gnaw on your lip as you look him over and can't hold in the grin at how frustrated you seem. He can't help but tease. 

“Did you have pleasant dreams little bird? You seemed unwilling to rise this delightful morning.”

His grin widens with your eyes as you look away “Err I don't remember… did you sleep ok?”

“Like I was in the welcoming arms of a lover” He doesn't miss your little inhale of breath, and he wonders how best to broach the topic of mutual pleasure with you. Perhaps it'll quell the urge to keep you safe in his arms.

The way Ezra is teasing you makes you think perhaps he can read your mind. As he goes to dress you make a decision, after the dig you'll explain how you really got here, explain how you don't want to leave him after the dig is done. And hopefully he'll be worn out enough that, should he decide you're too much of a liability, you can out run him.

As you head out an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, you tell Ezra as much but he just chuckles, “Perhaps you're still tired”

The morning goes smoothly, you're in the pit this time handing stuff out every so often to Ezra, his fingers brushing yours. Both of you work quickly, you puff, out of breath, as you stretch yourself up for yet another hand off. His ability to talk is once again surprising you. You laugh at his story despite the unease and the beat of the sun in your back and miss the delighted expression that crosses Ezra's face from your position in the pit.

Like a light switching, the energy shifts. You know there's trouble before Ezra mumbles through the comm “Little bird, stay down. Company approaches.”

Your blood runs cold when a voice responds, already on your frequency, a voice you know. “Greetings friend, we think you can help us out.”

Ezra eyes the pair in front of him, knowing you’d been made was adding a layer of worry to a tense situation, “I'll help if I can but, you're encroaching on my little territory you know how it is. I will be obliged to defend it”

You hear the pair step closer “Actually we're looking for someone,” your eyes slip closed as you stay stock-still, “See they greatly are responsible for our predicament. However,” the voice is clear like they already know you're here, crap, how long did they listen in? “If they were to help us find something we've lost. I can assure their punishment is… swift.”

You swallow as they step to the edge of the pit, Damon glares down at you “Hello darling, long time no see”

Ezra looks shockingly calm, still smiling as you glance at him, “Now then, that is not a polite way to address my partner.”

The other man scoffs, second in command Barlow, “Your partner? Back to your old ways I see.” He looks Ezra up and down. “You’re their type”

You think perhaps you see Ezra's jaw clench before he's grinning “It hardly seems fair for you to make off with my partner, does it? No, not without compensation which unless my ears deceive me, you can't give me without them.”

Before you can blink guns are drawn and you feel like a fish in a barrel, stuck in the pit without Ezra to pull you out.

“You don't know who we are, do you? I suppose in the suits you can't tell but I'd have thought with your… intimate relationship to our engineer you might have figured it out.”

Ezra’s gun doesn't waver for a second but his mind reels. The bandage on your arm, it couldn't be. Surely, he hadn't been so blinded by your company not to notice that. His eyes darken and he thinks, for a moment this man, Damon, realises he's going to die the split second before Ezra shoots.

Barlow’s slower, surprised at him for making the first move but despite his fumble this was a real stand-off. He meets Ezra's glare and they're frozen in time for a moment. Just as he watches the man start to squeeze the trigger and prepare to shoot, he flops sideways. Ezra swings his thrower round you see you, gun in one hand, body turned to the side, still poised from the shot neither of them had seen coming.

Ezra looks as surprised as you feel, even taking aim you hadn't been sure you should save him. But, in the second the men had forgotten about you, you'd let instinct take over and your instinct had chosen Ezra. You hoped it was correct.

Perhaps not. You watch as Ezra’s face darkens, his teeth bared as he levels his pistol at you. “Little bird” his voice makes you shiver despite the heat, “Be so kind as you toss your shooter up here. I think we will be having words.”

You can only nod, what can you do? He says he wants to talk so you'll talk, out of the pit. Where you can stand your ground. You swallow and throw your gun up to him. He gives you a curt nod picking it up and turning away. For a terrifying moment you think he's going to leave you here to die slowly but before you can beg him not to, he returns and tosses a pack down.

“Pack up your gear. We're leaving.” His tone leaves no room for argument so you pack away his equipment as quickly as you can and put it on as you wait and listen to him packing his own, wondering if the shots will draw more trouble.

After all the time spent getting used to his talking, his silence is terrifying. It allows you to think, to panic, to imagine the worst thing he can do. Probably leave you on this planet to rot or be torn to pieces by the locals. You squeeze your eyes shut at the thought.

“Come on now, your elevator awaits” You open them to see he's offering his hand down for you to grab. You do your best to ignore the pistol in the other as you grab a hold and scramble out of the hole you had been sure was going to become your grave. Ezra doesn't loosen his grip on your arm as he hauls you to your feet and strides away from the dig forcing you to trot behind him to keep up.

You stare up at him as he pulls you along trying to read his thoughts. He doesn't look at you scowling straight ahead, his grip vice like and bruising. You don't try to shake him off, you’re sure he's worked out who you are. Your former co-workers hadn't been subtle but you can't gage whether or not this is a walk to the noose.

⧫⧫⧫

Tugging you into the pod he releases your arm and turning to seal the door he finally speaks. “Take off your helmet” His tone sends goosebumps over prickling over your skin so you pull it off and go to set it down on the table. When you turn back, he's right in front of you glaring down eyes dark. It makes you feel tiny. “Show me your arm.”

His words are too concise, so abrupt you hesitate. It's like he's a different person, an enemy you aren't sure you should comply to. Ezra decides you're taking too long and seizes the top of your arms spinning you both around and pinning you against the pod's wall, knee hitched up between your legs keeping you in place. You squirm in a futile attempt to get away and gasp as he unzips the front of your suit and shoves it down to your waist. Ezra breathes heavily as he rakes his eyes up to your body to your face. Doing his best to swallow down his desire, he ignores your own heaving chest and grabs the back of your neck forcing you to look up at him.

“Little bird, take off that measly scrap of fabric and reveal the truth.” You gulp eyes wide fingering the knot of the bandage on your arm. Ezra gives you a little shake. “Do it now.”

So, you do, pulling apart the knot and unwinding it from your arm. You don't look at it, perhaps if you don't see it, it's not really there. Instead, you watch Ezra's face for his reaction, gleaning nothing as he releases your shoulder and grabs your wrist bringing it up for him to see clearly. His brow furrows as he inspects your forearm, a brand of three circles linked like a chain. Kevva, he'd hoped he'd been mistaken. You're frozen as his gaze returns to you, dark eyes furious he crowds around you, filling your senses, body pressing you against the wall. His leg shifts slightly between yours and you almost whimper.

“You've been dishonest, little bird, and I do not appreciate it.” Ezra feels at war, he's furious you lied but he understands why. He's fuming you had been running with a violent, malevolent group of pirates. He doesn't understand why you'd ran after the crash or why you'd turned to him. He wants to know what you have that your crew found so valuable. He wants to know how you're both so hard and so soft. All these thoughts rattle around in his head as he stares at you, your mouth slightly open and your lips wet, until he can only think about how good you feel pressed against him, how delicate you feel under the hand on your neck. How much, despite everything, he wants you. He doesn't notice how close he's gotten to you until he feels the puff of your breath on his face. And then you utterly surprise him.

You can almost hear him think as he stares down at you. You don't want to interrupt but his hold on you is drawing attention to his size, to how much strength and power he holds. It's like he's swirling all around you clouding your brain, filling it with him. So, you let yourself do what you want. You've got nothing to lose. Everything that's yours is in his hands and you can't bring yourself to care. He's leaning closer, bending so with his hand on your neck tilting your head up it's like you’re sharing breath. You close the gap and kiss him.

For a second, he freezes in surprise and then he's kissing you back. Harshly biting your lower lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth. It's desperate and rough and you lick into his mouth in response loving the low moan coming from deep in his chest. He releases your wrist and grasps your hip closing any distance left between you. He grinds into you, the leg between your thighs causing a delicious friction as you whimper into his mouth. He breaks the kiss and stares down at you for a second moving his hands to the bottom of your vest. At your nod he tugs it off and pounces back on you. He rubs his hands up your sides as he kisses you, loving the feeling of how big they are on your frame and how you gasp as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You wriggle against him trying to unfasten his suit and shove it down his arms. He obliges, stepping back he pushing it off and kicks it away leaving him in his underclothes, staring at you, pupils blown wide with lust as he takes you in. Then he's back on you, seizing your jaw and tilting your head up to look at him as his other hand tugs down the remainder of your suit taking your leggings with it.

Eyes look up and down your form, drinking it in as he reaches down to rub a finger over the wetness soaking your underwear. Your mouth drops open and Ezra seizes the opportunity to shove his thumb in your mouth, his grip adjusting to your chin. Smiling as you suck on it.

“Look at you” he coos dragging his nose into your cheek almost mockingly “On display for me, you look good enough to eat.” He punctuates this by biting your neck and pulling your thin underwear taut against your clit just enough you cry out and stand on tiptoe. He grins down at you as you bite down gently on his thumb and then pulls off your underwear letting you kick it aside before stroking his fingers across your slit so gently it makes you buck towards his hand. He moves his hand back to your hip, pinning you back to the wall as he pulls his thumb from your mouth and wraps his hand around your throat, not squeezing just resting there.

“I want you to stay still,” his voice is low and commanding so you nod. “Repeat it back to me, I want to hear you.”

You whimper, “I'll stay still” and he grins before bending to kiss and nip along your jaw above his hand as his other moves back down to your cunt. He circles your clit so gently it's like he isn't really touching you and just as he slightly increases the pressure he draws back. A needy whine falls from your throat but you stay still and he murmurs against your cheek.

“Good little bird, so wet for me. You're positively dripping,” and then just as slowly he eases a finger into. You cry out, so wound tight it's agonising, the contrast between how harshly he gripped you before against his irreverent touches now making you ache for him more than ever. “Sing for me little bird” he demands and then he's really moving, pressing his finger against that spot inside you that makes you see stars, thumb drawing circles over your clit making you moan so loudly it surprises you. 

Ezra watches the flush spread over your skin as your eyes roll back, he doesn't know how he wants you first. Just as you’re getting close, he realises. He wants you begging. 

He forces himself to pull his hand away from you and watches as you shudder with tension eyes opening to look up at him. “Ezra…” your voice is so soft he grins.

You watch him as he raises his hand to his face to lick your juice off it, sucking his finger with a pop. It's so erotic you can only whimper as he smirks down at you. You want to touch yourself, make yourself cum while he watches, but as you lower your hand down he grabs your wrist and moves it back to his shoulder. “Don't misbehave birdie, right now all your pleasure is mine.” You bite your lip.

Then he returns his hand to your pussy, this time shoving two fingers in pumping them as he rubs his thumb against your clit more firmly than before. Your body quivers but his hand against your neck keeps you in place as you moan desperately. As soon as you get close again, he slows down to a stop this time keeping you stuffed with his fingers as you try to get some friction. “Please Ezra,” the tone of your voice shocks you, you've never sounded so needy.

He moves his face away from biting your ear lobe to look at you, “Please Ezra what, little bird? You've got to be clear”

You can't stop the words tumbling out of you, “Please can I cum, please make me cum Ezra”

He smiles almost cruelly, “You sound so exquisite when you beg.” He starts working his thumb again, brushing his lips against yours. The hand on your neck finally starts to squeeze, turning you on more. “Do it again.”

You do, no power could stop you begging for him, saying his name like a prayer. And then you're cumming, your vision goes white as Ezra squeezes your throat firmly, cutting the blood from your brain dragging it out as he shoves a third finger into your wet pussy. 

Ezra swears he's never witnessed anything so magnificent. Your eyes rolling back into your head, mouth open and lips wet, unable to make a sound. How you soak his hand, how you tighten around his fingers. Now all he wants is to find out how many times, how many ways, he can break you apart.

When you begin to squirm, he reluctantly pulls away, you look up only to find he's pulling off his shirt and trousers. Your eyes widen as his cock springs free. You'd known he carried himself like he had nothing to be insecure about but Kevva… he's packing. It's huge and beautiful, slightly curved, a striking vein runner down it. You feel a little more breathless at the sight.

Ezra catches you staring and grins, pressing back against you, grabbing your arse and lifting you against him. You wrap your legs around him as he pins you up against the wall. His cock feels even bigger pressed against your stomach. Ezra grinds against you sucking marks down your neck as he notches himself at your entrance. You whine and claw his shoulders, he's barely into you and you're sure you've never felt so full. “Ezra” your voice is thready “Ezra I don't think you're going to fit.”

He coos in response thrusting shallowly getting slightly further in and making a cry out as you feel yourself drip around his cock. “Don't fret little bird,” he thrusts again getting deeper, kissing you, relishing the feeling of your heat around him, “I know you can take me.”

He thrusts decisively, bottoming out and pushing the air from your lungs. It feels like he's breaking you open, splitting you in two with his cock and you love it. Love the ache as you adjust, love how you can almost feel him in your stomach, love how he has you pinned to the wall supported by those strong hands and his body and totally at his mercy.

You can barely register he's talking as he grinds his hips against your clit. “... squeezing so tight around me. Never in all my time have I gotten so close to Nirvana.”

He waits until you've started to writhe in his arms, just add he'd imagined, begging for him to move. Then he starts long deep thrusts, interspersed by him grinding against your clit making you whimper and moan as you feel his cock drag across your walls.

“Kevva plucked you out of my head and sent you here for me. You're divine, exquisite…” you can't focus on the words, in no time at all you're cumming again. Squeezing him so tight he chokes on his words and kisses you deeply. He doesn't slow down or speed up, keeping his devastating pace until your body starts to relax. Then he nips at your jaw, hooking his arms under your knees and around your back, spreading his palms wide. He steps away from the wall and, slightly afraid he'll drop you, you grab the back of his neck, but you needn't worry. 

Now with you impaled on his cock suspended in the air by his arms, he truly begins to ruin you. Lifting you up and slamming you back he watches your cunt take him, watches how your breasts bounce, watches you throw your head back in a silent scream. He bites into your neck leaving a mark as he sets a brutal pace. Seeing you like this, feeling you like this, has stolen his vocabulary so he curses and growls as he watches, totally enraptured by how well you take him. He thinks maybe he tells you but he can't be sure.

Ezra’s still talking his sentences shorter but still as dirty, the way he praises you makes you moan and combined with his he is destroying you; you don't think you'll ever experience something this good again and then you don't think anything much at all. Just Ezra, his strength, his beautiful words, how perfectly he's fucking you.

Ezra knows he can't last much longer, not in this heaven but he's determined to make you cum again before he does just to feel it. So, he moves you slightly in his arms until he hits that bit which takes your cries even higher. He grins as you dig your nails into his shoulders, the slight pain both grounding him and making him lose his mind.

You feel so overwhelmed and overstimulated that when he adjusts his thrusting you can't help the few tears escaping as you wail. He just pulls you slightly closer and licks them up before staring down and watching how your pussy stretches to take him. You’re so close again you're sure you might explode if you don't cum, or if you do. And then you do, you can't even make a sound as your whole body goes rigid and Ezra doesn't stop pounding you. Instead, you hear him growl and curse and his thrusts get faster and shorter.

Ezra had never experienced anything hotter. The way you threw your head back and took it as he fucked you like a ragdoll. The feeling of you clenching around him. How you soaked him, the sound of your fucking would stay with him forever. And then he's cumming, he bites down on your shoulder groaning into your skin as he releases. His mind is wonderfully blank as he squeezes you against himself and fills you up with a dozen shallow thrusts.

He doesn't release you right away, just holds you to his chest as he turns to lean against the wall cock still in you. Blissful in the moments before his thoughts start buzzing again. When you can move you look up at Ezra, he meets your eyes, gaze totally unreadable. He reluctantly releases you with a groan and grabs his shirt as he kneels and begins to clean off your combined juices dripping down your legs. Seeing him on his knees taking care of you threatens to give you hope which you tamped down. He didn't know the truth yet and he had readily thrown you out once before. When he's done, he stands and tosses the shirt to the side, tugs on his soft under trousers as you pull on your own clothes. The silence feels like a giant pit between you and you glare at your feet unsure how to start this important conversation.

To your surprise Ezra gently pinches your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “We've still got much to discuss, little bird.” At your nod he pulls your hand into his ignoring how small and delicate it feels and gently tugs you towards the burrow. He has to know the truth.

⧫⧫⧫

You sit next to each other, his back against the wall, you sitting forward nervously running your fingers over the brand on your arm. Ezra just watches you, waits for you to explain and hopes you aren't a threat he'll have to get rid of after you've shared such intimacy.

“I don't… I won't come off like a very good person or partner when I tell you this. So just listen… please?”

Ezra nods, “None of us can be considered a good person, our humanity is dependent on our survival” he sighs, “Spin your tale, I'll remain in silence until it's done and keep my judgement of our partnership till it's completion”

You swallow, “I fixed a ship, that's how this whole mess started. We were leaving a dig and something had gone wrong which would have forced us to land. But I suited up and fixed it in zero G. It was completely stupid and shouldn't have worked but it did and we made it back to the dock. It wasn't till we'd sold off all our gems and separated that I was cornered. Turns out the malfunction wasn't an accident and by fixing it I'd cost them a lot of money in what they would have stolen from us. They reckoned I owed them and… they aren't people you want to owe”

You close your eyes and Ezra watches you tense. He'd like nothing more than to pull you into his arms but as he reaches for you, he clenches his fist. He needs to hear you out.

“They went through the rest of my team to get to me…” oh, Ezra understands they'd totally isolated you. “Well, they worked out since I could fix their brakes, I could mess up the ships in ways that couldn't be fixed without an emergency landing. They branded me there and then. Didn't even tell me how long I'd have to work to balance what I owed; probably thought I'd be dead by then.” You look down at your arm and frown.

When you look back at Ezra, his eyes are sharp, watching you intensely. “That scars old, little bird, how long did you dutifully aid their robberies.” Robberies of prospectors, people like him, people who'd been like you.

You look away, jaw clenched, “Long enough for it to get easy.”

Ezra doesn't move behind you, doesn't speak. You can't look at him.

“And then I couldn't anymore, I saw what I'd become and I hated it.” Your nails dig into your arm. “No one's good out in the fringe. But I was worse. I can't make up for what I did… can't take it back, can't return lives, possessions any of that. But I could stop, bring my crew down too. We used a distress beacon to lure in the other ships and…” you laugh “This time as I boarded after dealing with the other ship. I dunno, I just snapped and blew our engine too.”

Your mouth twists at the memory, “The pilot saw and I… when I was done, I just thought one down. I didn't want to die myself, that’s the easy way out, so I did my best to pull the chutes, hoping I'd play dead and hitch a ride out. Well, you know the rest.”

You stare straight ahead as a tense silence follows not daring to see Ezra glare at you. You don't see his soft eyes looking you up and down, his mind reeling. Had he known this when you’d first met, he would have shot you without question and left you to rot, your presence nothing more than a risk to his survival. But now, you’d saved him, talked with him, he’d gotten to know you. How you drink your caf black saying you’re “sweet enough”, how you look in the morning, how you laugh, how you moan. He knows he can’t kill you now, but you are a threat. He doesn’t know what to do. “Why are they searching for you? What do you have that they want? Your friend mentioned something.”

You laugh humorlessly, “They don't know where the other ship crashed, I was in the pilot’s seat, so no one else could see it go down. Fat lot of good it'll do them wrecked here.”

There's a bang on the side of the pod, “Shite” Ezra mumbles, “Our quixotic friends have returned.”

⧫⧫⧫

The wait for them to leave seems to take hours, the silence making your heart pound and your thoughts race over what you can do now. Ezra will definitely want you gone, only a mad man would keep you around with your history. Perhaps back to the original plan, see if you can mend the other ships escape pod and get the hell off this planet.

By the time the locals have decided your pod is empty, your plan is set. You stand, not looking back at Ezra. “I'll get scarce, I know I'm a problem waiting to happen.”

You grab your bag feeling in the pocket for your ring, a memory of a home you can't return to, old gods you're no longer sure are there. You look down at it as you step out of the burrow not noticing Ezra follow. You shove it into your suit pocket.

He is stumped for words as he watches you grab your possessions that have become scattered around the pod. He sees how your lives have become enmeshed. Scraps from your notebook scattered around where you'd played hangman or left notes and reminders for each other, items of clothing he watches you fail to pack, that damn terrible caf on the workbench.

He's not sure that he'll ever get all the pieces of you out of the pod, out of himself. You're under his skin, the very smell of you making his heart beat with more determination. As you reach for your helmet, he grabs your hand and finally you look up at him.

“Don't leave, I don't want you to leave.”

It's so simple but it means so much more and he thinks you maybe realise as you look up at him tears in your eyes. “I don't want to go.”

And then he kisses you. It's slower than before but no less fierce sparking a deep need in your chest. Gently now, he pulls off your suit as if he's still persuading you to stay before running his hands up your arms and down your back and sides like he's memorising your shape. When he kisses you again it's hungry, intense, he's trying to put words he's afraid to speak into it and it totally wiped your mind as you let him pull you back into his burrow.

Then he's peeling all your clothes off you. His touch is irreverent like he's unwrapping a precious artifact. He tugs you to lie down and settles between your legs pulling off his own shirt. He balances his weight on his arm above your head to nip at your lips, you reach up to run your hands up his chest, feeling him shudder as you gently rake your nails over the skin.

His other hand is squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple before seizing your hip and pulling you flush against him. The friction of his trousers against you, combined with how he's surrounding you, invading all your senses, is overwhelming.

“You are something else entirely,” he's kissing his way down your body, sucking purple bruises as he goes, seeming determined to mark every inch of you. “I could travel the whole breadth of this hostile galaxy and never find a sight as breath-taking as you laid out before me, a divine meal worthy of gods”

His words turn you on more as his ministrations make their way down to your legs. He bites your inner thigh almost too hard, making you squeal and jerk away but he grabs your hips and pulls you back, laving his tongue over the slight indent left by his teeth. You don't know how he's done it, not hours ago he railed you into oblivion and somehow, he has wound you tight all over again. It's like he's playing an instrument, plucking your strings both hard and soft so you melt.

His eyes meet yours, dark and hungry and he holds your gaze as he licks up your slit, his tongue wide as flat. You moan softly as he smiles, “Straight from the source your essence is even more delectable.” He stares at your pussy, seemingly fascinated by how it's fluttering around nothing, totally rapt by a droplet of your arousal sliding its way down.

You whimper at him, and try to buck your hips in his grip, desperate for him to do anything other than stare. He chuckles at you, “So willing to give yourself to me,” then he spits on your cunt. You gasp, half from shock and half from how much it turned you on. He grins as you tense and dives in.

Ezra eats you out like water from a well after crossing a desert. It feels as if he's writing the words, you’re stopping him saying all over your clit as you cry his name. His eyes closed he reaches up and seizes your hands, pulling you closer and settling his elbows over your hips keeping you still and at his mercy as he moans against you. Your eyes close as you feel sparks travel up and down your spine as he shoves his tongue into you making you whine but then he pulls away. Rubbing his cheek on your thigh, his beard tickling you.

“I want you to look at me little bird.” You can't help but obey his command instantly opening your eyes to see his pupils blown wide as he smirks. “You'd do just about anything for me to let you cum, wouldn't you? Don't worry your pretty head. I want you to cum in my mouth.”

Then he's back on you, sucking your clit between his teeth, you gasp his name trying to squirm away. his eyes piercing you, his mouth on you, his hands covering yours, his arms holding you down. It fills your head with him totally overpowering you and then you cum.

You go totally rigid, you're still looking at Ezra but your vision has gone so white you can't see him, just feel him moan against your cunt as you soak his tongue. Even as you start attempting to twist away, he continues, switching between sucking and licking at you as his strong arms pin you down. You cry out at the overstimulation, shuddering from it, tears leaking from your eyes and in no time at all you're thrown over the edge again. Cumming so hard your mind is totally wiped of anything but Ezra.

This time he grants you a reprieve, sitting up he watches your chest heave as you slowly come back into your body. He's lost for words, seeing you like this is better than anything he'd ever imagined and he still wants more, wants to ring every drop of pleasure out of you. And when you smile up at him, totally blissed out and willing, he's sure he'd do almost anything to keep you.

He doesn't put it into words though. Instead, he crawls over you seizing your jaw “Open that pretty mouth little bird,” something about how you so readily obey him twists in his chest and makes his cock twitch. He ignores it and bends close spitting into your mouth. You can taste yourself in it and it sparks your desire all over again.

He can't hold in a groan as you swallow, still smiling, his head seems too empty so he kisses you. It's fiery, filled with lust as you kiss him back and wrap your legs around him reaching down to pull off his trousers, he pulls back to kick them away as his cock springs free, it's hot and red as you wrap you hand around it, not even able to meet finger and thumb and squeeze slightly making him growl and bite along your jawline. “Tell me little bird, what would you will me to do?”

You meet his gaze, “Fuck me.” he groans into your neck, “Please.”

He watches your face as he positions himself at you entrance, “Kevva,” it's like he's not really talking to you, “I've never borne witness to anything so magnificent as your perfect cunt soaking me,” he slowly pushes his way in. It makes you whimper and him growl and you watch the tension in his neck as he restrains himself from ruining you, “Fuck you're tight.” His language is getting simpler as he starts losing control. His soft eyes beg you to let him move as his jaw clenches and you can't help but give in. 

“Please Ezra, move! fuck me”

The noise he makes is inhuman as he starts drilling into you. He shoves one of your knees up over his shoulder, deepening his thrusts making you cry out as he shreds against your walls. All he can think is how hot you are, how wet, how tight, how perfectly you take him. He's shoving up against your g shot with every thrust, coarse hairs grinding on your clit, you feel totally at his mercy to do nothing but take it and it may be the best sex you've ever experienced, ever will experience.

He looks beautiful, your juices still glistening on his face, brow furrowed and eyes half lidded but so piercing you might think he was furious if not for how in-between curses he's describing you, what he thinks of you. You aren't sure he even knows he's talking and the need in his words drives you higher and higher despite how spent you feel, how much you don't think you can cum again. And then you do. Kevva the way you clamp down on him clawing his back makes him lose his mind, he shoves both your knees up to your chest bending over you to bite you lower lip. The change in angle adds more friction, his thrusts get shorter, faster. Ezra cums so hard he can't think, you watch his eyes roll into his head, the groan he makes cuts off his own speech as he shoves himself as deep into you as he can get and releases. 

Ezra’s ears are still ringing when he manages to roll himself off you. Both of you are panting, as you stare at the roof of the pod and try to muster the words. Naturally, Ezra succeeds first. “Little Bird, I didn't know experiences such as that could be bestowed upon men like me.” You can only make a little noise in reply as he takes your hand and silence falls again.

Finally, when your breath is caught and you can both think again, he pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Little bird, I'm starting to agree our dig may be bust. Trouble is biting our ankles and I should have listened earlier. Let's pillage what we can to fix the pod and get going. The dig is almost done, even split it'll be a while before I need to pick up another job.” You feel a sting at how quickly Ezra had returned to talking business but you do your best to brush it off. There's nothing wrong with some shagging between friends and it's no reason for him to feel the same fluttering in his chest that you do in yours.

“Right then we should travel light, get everything we need and come back. The fix won't take long, we can be gone in two days.” Two days left with Ezra makes you feel a little sad, you suppose you'd just gotten used to his company.

Ezra smiles grimly, “If we're lucky.”

You turn and roll over enjoying how he follows, wrapping you in his arms, tangling your legs like he can't bear to be separate. “I do have a question for you if you don't mind?”

You shrug, “Depends what it is.”

“What is that strange ring you carry but don't put on.”

“It's… it was a gift when I left home. It's supposed to be my payment.”

Ezra's mind casts back to how you paid honour to the dead, even those he certainly didn't think deserved a boatman. Saving them from a potential purgatory. But you didn't wear yours.

“Little bird, forgive my bluntness but curiosity is driving me to ask. Why don't you wear it?”

You squeeze your eyes closed, forcing away images of your past, grounded in Ezra's warm grip. “It's,” you sigh, “It's just too heavy.”

Ezra can feel how tense you've become and fights off the heavy guilt threatening to settle in his chest. You think yourself deserving of the hundred-year wait wandering the shore, think the loneliness is just. He kisses the back of your neck. “We should let our dreams take us lest we attract more trouble. It is salient we are well rested.”

You sigh, relaxing against him despite yourself. Long since exhausted by the day and his attentions, you let yourself drift off. Faintly feeling a hand caress your cheek, but you could have imagined it.

⧫⧫⧫

Waking up with someone warm in his arms is something Ezra could get used to. He tells you as much but you brush it off, someone isn't necessarily you after all. Ezra talks as you pack but he avoids the subject of you, of you both. He didn't want to scare you off, he tells himself, his flighty little bird. But he knows he's lying to himself, just being a coward, afraid of your reaction. He avoids meeting your eye until, helmets on, you both stand by the door. Taking a moment of peace before heading into the waste. He takes your hand seeking reassurance as much as trying to give it. You meet his eyes looking a little afraid but determined. He squeezes it tight before letting go and opening the door.

The walk East is easy enough, a pretty straight shot over flat ground. The only real problem being navigating the increasingly dense petrified forest. Ezra talks continuously, but you're grateful, glad it isn't awkward between you and enjoying his descriptions of other worlds he's visited. Where instead of breathless death and grey, there's vivid greens and blues of plants and flowers. Where the beauty is just as dangerous as this blank world. And, slowly, you start to talk too. Really talk. You describe a world that, to you, had seemed to be entirely made up of a casino, and the trouble you had gotten into there.

“Too rich for my blood,” Ezra chuckles and you agree.

You don't tell him about your home, not yet. But being able to talk, to laugh about something you'd done, feels freeing. Like a weight has been lifted ever so slightly off your shoulders.

You’re both grateful the walk is uneventful but you can't relax as the looming silhouette of the other spaceship appears through the trees. It's still too early for hope.

As you approach you see that the crew had successfully pulled their parachutes, but too late. The side of the ship had caved in where it had skidded across the earth, giving you both a way in. When you stop Ezra’s looking at you, “Any chance of survivors, little bird?”

You just shrug. “I doubt it after this. They were running a skeleton crew.” You wince slightly at the double entendre, hoping you have the time to find their bodies and pay their dues.

Ezra raises an eyebrow at you. “On a ship this big? That is most peculiar.”

“I guess, I didn't get a chance to think about it at the time.”

You go over the list again, 5 items, 5 areas. All small enough to carry in your packs. To yourself you add another item, just in case you get the chance.

“We stick together, watch each other’s backs.” You nod in agreement and you both step into the ship.

⧫⧫⧫

There's a faint dripping noise, like a clock ticking. It sets off your nerves as you leave the light of the suns. Inside is cast in red, a good sign the electrics haven't been fried, but totally unsettling. It casts humanoid shadows across the grated walls seemingly flickering with every step. Ezra had gone totally silent but his presence behind you is reassuring. Together you pry open the first door.

Inside has the same red light but the weapons board flashes at you telling you it's still live which is strange. You mumble it to Ezra. “These things usually shut down first after a crash, they drain loads of power that's usually diverted out.”

He frowns at you. “Mayhaps a malfunction? It looks like a rough crash.”

“Yeah. Probably.” But it niggles at the back of your brain. All you can do right now is ignore it so you wrench the panel out from the wall to the side and stick your arm in. Feeling around, you brush your fingers up against the dotted cylinder you need. These old ships had a habit of hiding important components in baffling locations, apparently to protect them in a crash which you do suppose this has, but you suspect it's to confuse novice engineers and pillagers alike. 

Ezra is keeping a sharp eye on the door but he can't help but enjoy watching you work, grumbling about what a stupid place this was for a fuse break and how it would have been harder to wreck their engine had it actually been where all the ships power came from. He grins at you and you smile back tugging the, whatever it was, out of the wall. He tosses his pack over to you.

“I'll get this one birdie,” making you roll your eyes but you gently place it in and hand it back. 

“Take care of that.”

“I'll cradle it as if it were a new-born.” He says so sincerely you can't help but snort.

“Don't worry too much, ships like these are made hardy, they don't just fry things like your pod.” He scowls playfully at you as you head back to the corridor.

“I will not hear a negative word about her, we've been together for years.”

The ship groans around you as if it's a living creature as you head deeper in. The maze of corridors makes Ezra feel turned around but you seem to know where to go and he follows dutifully. The next stop is a storage closet smaller than his little burrow.

Inside is a collection of boxes from which you produce two tiny discs. You look at Ezra, “I doubt they'll mind me taking a spare, these things are expensive.” Still not being entirely sure what everything you're searching for is, he just shrugs,

The moment of ease sputters out when you enter comms. There's a buzzing that sets your teeth on edge, someone's been on the radio. Ezra clicks it off but the silence is suddenly oppressive. Trying hard to hear any sign of life you scan the dark corners of the space. 

“We don't know how long this has been on.” Ezra’s voice is steady but there's an edge you know too well. You agree all the same, hurrying to rip the tubing out from under the console. The blinking lights shut off with a hum as Ezra takes it from you, looping it together and shoving it into his pack. You don't argue.

Two items left, you'd saved the cockpit and the engine till last, both at the opposite end of the ship. 

The door to the cockpit is open. you look at Ezra, his jaw is set glaring into it. You head in first moving swiftly to the control panel to the side to start pulling the whole thing apart for one measly chip. He disappears into the shadows to search the room. It's too big, too many places to hide, he thinks to himself trying to picture the best place for an ambush.

He finds one body, curled in on itself as if tossed into the corner. The next is under a nav table, arms over its head. The final one is the hardest to look at, in the pilot seat, hand still grasping the parachute release. He swallows as he takes in this futile effort to survive, picturing the final moments as the ground rises to meet them, the hopelessness.

He spins when he hears your voice.

“Wait, wait!”

“You should have stayed away-“

Ezra doesn't even think, he just shoots and the man with a blade at your throat drops. He didn't even know he could draw that fast. He fights off the adrenaline, calming his breathing as he approaches you. Your eyes are wide with shock and you take a deep breath looking up at him.

“Thank you, Ezra.”

He just wants to pull you close, hold you against him, protect you with his body. With the suits and helmets, it would be uncomfortable so he grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest.

“Think nothing of it.”

“I didn't think there could be any survivors.” At that he examined the body. Shit, the suit, the emblem, the skull etched into the glass of his helmet.

“That, little bird, is because there aren't any. It appears that the locals are here.”

You squeeze his hand. “We've got to hurry.”

He nods, “Give me three coins.”

He’s found them. You'd already known they'd be dead but the confirmation sits heavily over you. You hand him the coins.

“You finish here, I'll take care of them. Don't worry.”

The kindness he's showing by doing it for you aches in your chest. You take the frustration out on the unsuspecting control panel. Tearing into it, pulling parts out, desperately trying to get a grip on your emotions and breathe a sigh of relief when you emerge, chip in hand. No one has ever extracted one so quickly you reckon. You shove it in your pack.

Heading to Ezra you take his hand, try to convey thanks through the touch alone. Thanks for saving you, thanks for not making you bear this burden solitarily, thanks for just being company after so long alone. You look up at him, he's chewing his words again but doesn't speak so you turn and lead him out.

In the engine room you seize a battery and yank it from the wall, grateful the lights stay on. Ezra takes it from you. “Don't argue birdie I'm bigger than you.”

He's cut off by a horn echoing through the ship. You swallow. 

Taking his hand again, you both creep out of the room. Every sound is too loud, you curse your boots, the rattle of your tools, your own harsh breathing. You can't fail now, you're so close. At the sound of footsteps, you pull Ezra through a door into a room with bunks, closing the door as quietly as you can, you both hold your breath. As they pass the door his grip tightens on yours so much you feel the heat of his hand through your gloves. His eyes scan your face, like he's trying to memorise what you look like. You realise you’re doing the same to him.

When they pass you glance around the room as Ezra slumps against the door his eyes shut tightly. As you let go of him you see something in the corner of your eye. No fucking way. It's a gem case, unassuming on the outside but far bigger than the one Ezra carried. Item number six.

You shove it into your bag.

⧫⧫⧫

Neither of you seem to breath for the rest of your journey through the ship. Eyes and ears too peeled to do much else. The second you see the light outside you swallow. You say a prayer to yourself as you creep towards it.

The light blinds you as you step out. Something shoves you to the side, you hit the ground hard knocking the wind out of you as you try to see what hit you. The second your eyes adjust to the light you see Ezra trying to knock back one of the locals, trying to gain space to draw. You wrestle your pistol out of your holster and aim but you can't shoot. Their dance is too close and you're afraid to hit Ezra. 

It all happens in slow motion. The stranger thrusts his spear into Ezra's stomach and pulls it out. He cries out stumbling back giving you a straight shot. You fire the same moment as the local brings his spear down on Ezra’s helmet.

You shoot too late. 

Ezra drops back against the ship sliding to sit. Shattered glass glitters over the ground around you threatening to cut your knees as you crawl to him. His helmet is shattered.

“No no no no no” you press on the wound in his stomach tugging your pack off your back to get the med kit. “We've got to go, there's going to be more of them.”

He puts a hand over yours. “Little bird, I'm afraid my adventure has come to its conclusion”

You look at his face. “No Ezra! I can close this for now, we've got time. We can make it back.” His eyes are wide and sad, wet with the threat of tears. “Don't look at me like that!” There's desperation in your voice.

“You've got to go. Relieve yourself of my burden, you can repair the vessel and get away by yourself. You don't need me.”

“Shut up! I can't just leave you here.” You push his hands away and pull out a gun of sealing foam “Don't fucking argue with me, we've got so close you can't just give up.” Ignoring his arguments, you press the nozzle through his suit and fill his wound. He lets out a groan. As quick as you can, you pull your pack back on and stand seizing Ezra's arms and heaving him to his feet. He gives a short shout of pain but doesn't protest as you hook his arm over your shoulder for support.

You start to walk like this as the suns begin to dip. Keeping your pistol in your free hand you scan around you. The dead trees provide good cover but they also give any attackers the element of surprise so you do your best to listen out whilst you support Ezra.

It's a little difficult with his talking but you can't complain, not when it means he's still alive. But he's getting heavy, putting more weight on you, you don't know how long you can hold him up. Just as you're beginning to feel truly weak his topic of conversation changes.

“Little bird, it has been an exponential honour to be enclosed within your company. To have your trust if only a little. Kevva, the chance to learn your body the way I got to was a treasure worth more than any gem I could find. I only wish I could learn your mind just as intimately, to possess the knowledge of what makes you laugh, cry, your favourite food, favourite music. I'd cherish every drop of yourself you'd let me have until I could carry a vault of you with me”

“Ezra, don't…”

“The opportunity is being stolen from me, I both resent it and I'm so grateful for the time I've had. Little bird, don't let my soliloquy deceive you. I mean every word.”

You can't stop moving, but you grab onto him a little tighter. Letting yourself squeeze your eyes closed just for a moment to fight off the tears. There's no guarantee he'll survive, no hope yet, no point admitting feelings just to let him die. It would hurt too much.

You keep walking. Reminding Ezra to breath as slow as he can. Holding yourself together just to keep him upright.

Then you see it, your pod, through the trees, dark against the burning red sky. 

There are two locals at the door. They turn.

Before you can think to react, Ezra pushes you aside as a spear careens where you'd just been stood. Drawing before you can blink, he fires twice. The locals fall. And then, so does he.

⧫⧫⧫

You aren't sure if you're saying his name out loud or just in your head. You roll him into his back and try to shake him awake. He doesn't even stir. 

Instead, you seize the straps of his pack and use them to drag him towards your pod.

Your muscles are screaming after supporting him for so long but you don't let up, drawing strength from who knows where.

How did the pod seem so close minutes ago? Now it's miles away.

You don't know when you started crying.

You don't stop moving, can't stop until you've managed to pull him inside and seal the door. You yank off your helmet, tossing it aside and falling to your knees next to him pressing your ear to his chest, desperately trying to hear his heart through his suit.

It's dead silent.

That's when you scream. Tears streaming down your face you bring your fist down on his chest as hard as you can.

“Breath you bastard! Take a fucking breath!” You're sobbing now, “You can't just leave me here, leave me all alone. Not after all this. Not when we got so close.”

You curl over him pressing your face to his, your tears dripping onto him leaving tracks through the dust and blood on his skin. “You can't leave me alone,” it's barely a whisper. “Ezra.” You say his name over and over again like a prayer.

And then his chest moves. 

You don't know whether you should laugh. You just keep bawling as you tear off his suit and grab his hand.

He doesn't wake up but it's enough, you squeeze his warm hand for another second before wiping at your face and getting your med kit. “Let's see what I can do about this wound hmm?”

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra hears someone calling his name. But they seem so far away. He tries to move towards the voice but it's like moving through syrup. He lets himself sink back.

⧫⧫⧫

The wound is deep and spurts with blood as you pull out the foam, painting your hands in the same red as the sky outside. Pursing your lips, you apologise to him, hoping he doesn’t feel the pain. Cleaning the wound takes time but as far as you can tell the spear managed to avoid all his organs so you seal it up as best you can. The lack of oxygen is what has you truly worried, who knows what damage could have been done in the time it took you to drag him to the pod. With your medication he might heal but you can’t be sure. You fight off the thoughts of what you’d have to do if he never did wake up. Would you be able to bury him?

You sleep curled to his side, a hand on his shoulder. It’s fitful, plagued by nightmares of waking up to find him cold. Every time you wake up crying, you watch his chest rise and fall and pray, he’ll make his way back to you.

⧫⧫⧫

The next thing he hears is a clang followed by a curse, then it's silent again

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra made it through the night. To distract yourself from worrying he might never wake, you wrap him up warm and begin to repair the pod. It’s slow work but its methodical movements help regulate your breathing. Until you hear a grunt. You drop whatever you were working on and swear to yourself as you kneel by him. But he’s no more present than before. Perhaps you had imagined it. Prayed so hard you’d began torturing yourself. You look over him, how could you go on without him. No one to make you laugh, or care what happens to you. It’s justice you suppose, just another thing for you to feel guilty about. You suppose you’ll go on just to keep feeling that guilt.

Again, you barely sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

And then, as if surfacing from a dive, Ezra opens his eyes. His back hurts. He works out why as, slowly, he identifies the ceiling above him. He's lying on the floor with nothing more than a pillow and a blanket that's been tucked all around him up to his neck. He wrestles his arms free, stretching them above his head and then prodding his stomach, it's tender but the wound is closed. Then he sits up with a grunt.

You're stretching up to try and pull a ration bar of the top shelf of your measly kitchen cupboard. You swear and turn to find something to climb on and then you see Ezra.

He's sitting up, grinning from ear to ear. You nearly jump a foot into the air and then you’re frozen to the spot. He chuckles to himself and clambers to his feet, it looks difficult but you aren't sure you can move to help so you stay put as he supports himself along the wall and approaches you.

“Little bird, you are the most incredible, fascinating, stubborn creature I have ever laid my eyes upon.” And then he's pulling you into his chest, wrapping you in such a grip it's a little difficult to breath but you don't mind. You just hug him back, if gently, very aware of how he'd recently been stabbed. He buries his nose in your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Three days, I managed to melt down some meds to inject you so you… well, so you actually healed. Oh, and then I fixed the pod but it didn't feel safe to take off what with you having a hole in you.”

He laughs, you can feel it rolling through his body and it makes you grin. It's so alive.

“May I also ask why I was on the floor?” That's your cue to laugh to. 

“Do you honestly think I could lift you onto the cot?”

“Frankly little bird, I didn't think you could have got me to the pod. You are certainly a force to be reckoned with and not one to be underestimated.”

You close your eyes and breath him in. “I almost didn't make it.” He just shushes you running his hands up and down your sides.

“No point wondering what could have been birdie. You saved me.” You look up at him, his eyes are wet as he smiles down at you. “What I did to deserve it may evade my knowledge forever, but it must have been spectacular.”

You feed Ezra and then force him to stay still for the day. Even as he protests you don't really think he minds, finally getting an opportunity to finish reading ‘The Power’. You sleep curled into his side.

The next day you leave.

⧫⧫⧫

Two days floating in space before the station slings back to pick you up. The sense of relief is immense. Ezra is in the seat next to you, any other person telling such a graphic tale about a flight home wrong would've sprung anyone with nerves but you just grin. You made it, you both made it.

“Even split, little bird? Although, I can't say I find the idea of us separating particularly appealing.”

You grin, “Me neither, although I do maintain the even split, you save my arse, I save yours.”

He smirks, “I'll have your arse anytime” you smack his knee with what was formerly his copy of ‘Perfume’. He scowls playfully, tossing his own book aside and tugging you into his lap.

And then looks totally bemused as your mouth drops open, “Holy shit I can't believe I forgot!” You hop off him and he grumbles at you but watches curiously wondering what you'd forgotten that was so important. You kneel to open your pack, pulling out a gem case. A huge gem case.

“Where in that abhorrent hell did you manage to acquire that?”

“I think it was why I was told to bring down that ship, I picked it up in the bunk room.”

It's locked but you happily spend the next half an hour gently taking apart one screw at a time. Ezra watches you the whole time, not even thinking about your bounty, just enjoying how you hum to yourself and smile every time a screw comes loose, batting his hands away every time he grabs at you. It's domestic.

You meet his eye as the last screw comes loose and he joins you kneeling on the floor. “Let's not get our hopes up” you say, “We've got more than enough to last a while whatever happens.” He nods and you pull the case open.

His jaw drops. “That is remarkable.”

You meet his eye and laugh. You've never seen him look so surprised. There are three gems inside, each one about the size of your head.

He lets out a huff of laughter “I’m beginning to suspect there was nefarious business afoot on that ship…”

“Ezra?”

“Mmhm?”

“I think I'd like to go somewhere with a sea.”

“Little bird, I suspect that can be arranged” Then he kisses you, pulling you against him.

You wriggle back, “Even split?” He just grins and bites at your ear.

In no time at all you’re in his lap as you pull off each other’s clothes. He rubs his beard against your bare neck to make you giggle as he nibbles it, hands roaming all over you. You nip his collar bone making him groan, it flips a switch in him and seconds later he’s grabbing your hips to position you over his cock.

He lowers you down so slowly it makes you squirm and whimper and beg him to move.

He grins at you, catlike, “We’ve got all the time in the world, little bird. And I intend to use it”

⧫⧫⧫

Hours later you wake. Ezra is snoring quietly into your neck tempting you to rouse him. You’re thirsty though, so, reluctantly, you peel his arms off you to get a glass of water. As you return your toe catches on your suit where it lies on the floor. As you reach to move it your ring drops out of the pocket, clinking quiet onto the ground.

You bend to pick it up and look at Ezra, then back at the ring. Had you not gone through all those years in that gang of pirates, you’d never have found him, never got to save his arm or his life. You both might be dead. You had been right; you couldn’t change your past. But you’d never know what else might have happened. There’s still guilt, there always will be. But you feel a little lighter.

You put on the ring and return to Ezra. He pulls you against his chest without waking.

You smile.

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @engineeredfiction @mothandpidgeon @sleep-tight1

[romioneficfest]

Little Unicorn Day Center

Title: Little Unicorns Daycare Center

Prompt: day 2 - meet cute

Rating: G

Author:

Brief Summary

Any Content warnings: 

Hermione had cared for many children in the three years since she had opened the Little Unicorns Daycare Center, and she had always been careful to be impartial and fair to every little boy and girl that walked through her doors.

But she couldn’t deny that Lily was one of her favorites.

The vivacious red-headed girl had been in her care for around six months, and it had been obvious from the start that she was different from the other kids. She was well ahead of the group on her reading comprehension, and she had a highly developed sense of humor for her age. She also loved to tell detailed, fantastical stories about magical creatures, and people flying around on broomsticks, and Hermione was amazed at the depth of her imagination.

Hermione had only ever met Lily’s mother, Ginny, who shared her daughter’s long red hair and quick wit. Ginny was always in and out of the cottage in a hurry when she came to drop Lily off or pick her up, but she was always friendly enough. She knew that Ginny was in publishing, and her husband in law enforcement, jobs that surely kept them both very busy, so Hermione didn’t think anything of the quick visits.

It never struck her as odd, either, that she had never met Lily’s father; it was common for her to deal with one parent more than the other. She finally met him on a cold, snowy day, when the front door opened and Lily burst in, shedding her hat and gloves before she had even made it past Hermione’s desk, and a tall, gorgeous red-headed man trailing behind her.

He smiled apologetically as he bent to pick up Lily’s things to hand to her. “Sorry about that. Is she always like this?”

Hermione’s fingers brushed against his as she took the gloves, and she was surely imagining the spark that ignited her skin at the contact. “Oh, it’s um…” Hermione unconsciously raised her hand to flatten her bushy hair before scolding herself. This man was married, and it surely did not matter how her hair looked. “It’s finger paint day. I’m sure she’s just excited.”

“Oh, that explains it, then. Can’t say I blame her.”

He gave her another brilliant smile, and she melted as she looked up into his vibrant blue eyes. Lily had bright eyes, too, but hers were an almost unnatural shade of green. Ginny’s, if Hermione remembered correctly, were brown, and for a fleeting moment, she hoped that maybe the man was a family friend or something. But then she saw the shiny gold detective's badge pinned to his trousers, and the hair color, of course, was unmistakable. Even so, Hermione couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Will you be picking Lily up this afternoon?”

“Nah, Gin just had an early meeting this morning. She’ll get her later, like normal.”

Hermione hoped that her disappointment wasn’t glaringly obvious. Her instant attraction to this man was undeniable, but it was also incredibly inappropriate. He was a parent of one of her charges, for goodness sake! Hermione put on the most neutral smile she could muster and then motioned to a pile of papers that she was certain were nothing more than coloring sheets. “Okay, I hope you have a lovely day. If you’ll excuse me, I really should get back to work.”

“Oh, yeah, me too.” He leaned to the side to look through the open doorway into the playroom beyond the lobby. “Bye, Lil! Be good!” Hermione heard no response from the adjacent room, but he turned without one and gave a slight wave of goodbye to Hermione before heading back out into the cold.

It was several weeks before she saw him again. Lily again raced through the door while her father ambled in behind her and smiled at Hermione. “Must be finger-paint day again,” he said teasingly as he approached the desk. “I realize I didn’t properly introduce myself before. I’m Ron.” He held out his hand for Hermione to shake and she took it, trying to ignore the warmth of his palm.

“Hermione.” Their hands remained linked for just an instant longer than was probably proper, and Hermione forced herself to break their gaze. “Lily’s a wonderful child,” she said, determined to focus on the little girl.

“Yeah, she’s a hoot. She—“ Ron cut himself off with a frown and fished a buzzing pager from his coat pocket. “Sorry, duty calls.” She caught another glimpse of his badge and nodded in understanding. “Nice to see you again.”

“You, too.” Hermione lifted her hand in farewell, and she was so distracted by the view of him from behind, that it completely slipped her mind that Ron was not the name of the other parent on Lily’s paperwork.

She saw Ron several more times over the following months, and he was always so charming with her. Hermione was horribly embarrassed by her attraction to another woman’s husband—though she had noticed that he didn’t wear a ring—and even worse, the fact that the feeling seemed to be mutual. She wanted to believe that it was just his personality, that he was the outgoing type, and not that he was a man who would shamelessly flirt with other women. He didn’t seem to be the sort who would do such a thing. Or maybe she just didn’t want to admit to herself how unseemly her behavior was. Either way, Lily would be moving on to kindergarten soon, and she could forget all about Ron.

Usually if she saw Ron, it was at Lily’s morning drop-off, so Hermione was surprised when he appeared one afternoon at pick-up time. He was quieter than usual, not his typical cheery self. “Lily!” Hermione called to the other room. “Time to go!”

“Coming!” the little girl hollered back as Ron approached her desk.

“Hi,” he said, his tone soft. She didn’t know him all that well, even now, but he actually sounded nervous. “So, I um...wanted to ask you something?”

Hermione’s heart started pounding, and she rubbed her palms against her jeans anxiously. “Sure,” she replied, and she hoped he couldn’t hear the tremor in her voice.

He hesitated, and then blurted out, “Are you free for dinner tonight?” He must have registered the look of shock on her face at his overt invitation, and he began to ramble. “I’ve got to take Lily home, but after that, or—or maybe this weekend we could—“

Hermione gave a vehement shake of her head and lowered her voice to hiss at him, “That is wildly inappropriate!” As much as she couldn’t deny that there was a chemistry between them, acting on it was a whole different matter.

“I—“ He seemed taken aback by the severity of her response. “I can take the rejection, but...inappropriate?”

She looked at him incredulously. “Yes. I don’t make it a habit to fraternize with—“

“Uncle Ron!” Lily’s exclamation and pounding footsteps cut her off and stopped her cold. The little girl threw her arms around one of Ron’s long legs, and he reached down to pat her head.

“Hey, kiddo. Have a good day today?”

Lily nodded. “Where’s mummy?”

“Waiting at home, and your dad is picking up your brothers.”

She then glanced at Hermione before gazing up at Ron with a knowing look beyond her years. “Did you come just to say hi to Miss Hermione?” Lily half-covered her mouth to whisper loudly to Hermione, “My mummy says he fancies you.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. Here she had been berating herself all these months for nothing. She wracked her brain, but she couldn’t recall Lily ever mentioning her father or Ron by name, and she had never addressed him directly until now. She had just been assuming that Ron was off-limits, and couldn’t remember ever being so pleased to be wrong.

Ron’s face was red with embarrassment, but he was still smiling shyly at her, and the look was incredibly endearing. “Did you really think I was her dad? Haven’t you ever met Harry?” Hermione shook her head.

“No, I haven’t, actually. I saw your badge and, well, your hair—I just assumed.”

“So...any chance that changes your mind about dinner?” he asked hopefully.

Hermione crouched down to the ground and motioned Lily over. “Maybe you could tell your Uncle Ron,” she said in a stage whisper, “that I fancy him, too?”

Lily nodded eagerly before scampering back over to Ron. “Uncle Ron! Miss Hermione said she fancies you.”

Hermione straightened and beamed at Ron. “Seven okay?”

“Tonight?” Hermione nodded; she didn’t want to wait any longer to get to know him better. “Brilliant. Seven it is.” He took Lily’s hand and led her toward the door, glancing back over his shoulder at Hermione with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

[alairmena]

Good morning good people, time is up!

You haven't been able to write more characters than I am capable of drawing!

Thanks to everyone who was participating! I'd suggest y'all to follow my posts more closely for similar events in the future 👀😎 Read down for personalized notes!

Here comes every drawing in a separate picture, so that everyone can get their flashcard!

You may also notice that the two first characters were not submitted under this specific post. Actually they were submitted late for the original "group photo of our OCs" post, so they couldn't be added there, so I decided to include them here.

Because I don't leave anyone behind!

Therefore peeps, here you go!

For @foyle-writes-things:

You didn't provide a picture, but you did provide a thorough description, so this is how I imagine Razz! Just now I notice I forgot to color the eyes green, so let's imagine they are :)) I sure hope she's a white hat hacker cuz this mf looking very gloomy 😨

For @informedimagining:

I took a little creative liberty to add her a tan (since she's a country girl and does many outdoors activities) and make her hair originally brown then dyed to blonde, because it just made sense for the character at the moment! I hope you like it!

For @chaotictravelerrants:

Time Weilder seemed to me like a mythological creature/deity of some sorts, so I tried to make him somewhat etherical~

For @strawberryflavoredblade (so happy to be able to tag you T.T):

Here have your DILF OC Leonardo! I hope THIS captures him well 😌 I did notice that you mentioned that his hair should have some blonde strikes since he's aging, so let's say that he decided to look nice for a photo and went to dye his greying hairs so that he looks all nice and dandy (I guess he has enough money and free time for that!)

And unfortunately missed opportunity to draw the crime gloves, but alas, I wanted it to look like a nice photo that you can reuse, so, here you go!

For @renzaslasher:

I must say that your OCs have immaculate design! I loved drawing this poor boy! His face was the first thing I colored bcs it's so fucking fun lmao you need to see how the lineart layer of this one looked like 😂 I drew him with a weary emoji face (😩) because oh my god do I imagine him looking like this all the time having to deal with that goober

For @nightingaleflowlibrary:

I really hope i got colors right on this one (lmao what colors, she's basically black and white even here), but nonetheless, I tried to bring the prettiness of the original drawing to my style, idk if it translates well T.T I love her from your description 🥺

For @divine-proclamations-of-bs:

Come to think of it, this OC really encapsulates the vibe of your username 😁 You're the silly one that provided the hex codes for the hair color and the eyes!!! How dare you make me search for the W3Schools hex to rgb convertor 😤/j Jokes aside, I pinpointed the exact hexcodes for the colors and put them on your silly guy! The picture you provided made me laugh so much I just wish there was more content of this dude 😂😭

For @angelicanoi:

I wanna know more about him, he seems like a charming little dude 🥰 Start sharing more about your OCs on your blog, we wanna see it!

And I really suggest everyone who's been reading this far to check out other people's blogs and read about each other's OCs! Y'all are my worshipers community, start acting like it! (jk unless)

Happy writing everyone!

And why exactly are you still reading? The post is over. This is the ad break now.

Key's Unwilling Assistant - COMING SOON

So now that i have 36 followers (12x3 🤯) i just want to clarify something to people

In case you haven't noticed, I'm weird. I'm a weirdo. Have you ever seen me without my drawing pen in my hands? That's weird.

I may or may not jumpscare all of you with unexpected fanarts of your characters. Nobody's safe

(and if that's something you're into you may reblog this with more of your blorbos, lets see if you can write more than i can draw >:) )

[rat-in-a-coffin]

2/8/15/21

For the asks if you’re comfortable answering

yess thank you,

2 - shoe size

this is actually so embarrassing. im a 35-36 EU (mens 3-4 UK)

8 - do you want any tattoos?

YES YES YES. theres some ive planned out and some i really want; a very special tree on my shoulder with the text “just like the leaves change in colour”. lyrics from “its not a fashion statement, its a fucking deathwish” by mcr. possibly a big tree or forest, or some other plants going up my other arm too cover up some old scars. hmm i’ve always wanted hand tattoos, specially skeleton hands (in honour of my gloves) or runes. a small face tatto on one of my cheeks. and probably just some aesthetic ones like bats, rats, spiderweb, a vampire stuff, a lot to of norse symbols and creatures, a left and right one, yk just the average goth stuff. 80% of them will probably be impulsive, but thats just a part of the charm, to me tattoos symbol memories and a sense of self. ive wanted them since i was little for that reason. it doesn’t matter how stupid or ugly it is, it still holds a value. its a reminder of how much we grow. yes even if it’s just a pair of drunk tattooed boobs on your foot.

15 - favourite movie

uuuh, anything tim burton

21 - what i love most about myself

my confidence or honesty . people tend to call me a bitch, or stupid for it but ive worked damn hard for it, i could not care less if the truth hurt someone, or what they say to me anymore and its wonderful. also a honourable mention is my humor, bc its damn good

[peach-pot]

Hi Han what’s going on in miraculous ladybug? I’m curiosity

OOH! Ok so in a previous season, adrien (the cat superhero) found out ladybug’s civilian identity (marinette) and it has like, world ending effects, so much so that someone with a miraculous that let them time travel had to come back and fix things. In that episode we see what happens with the reveal and how the two characters get together, but it’s all tossed out cause of the time travel, didn’t actually happen in the show anymore.

This episode is like the same thing but the opposite, it shows what happens when Marinette figures out chat noir’s civilian identity. This dude that’s like, above marinette needs to know his identity for reasons that don’t really matter. She was supposed to let another time based superpower rewind time after adrien revealed himself, so this other superhero would know his identity and tell the dude, but not marinette, cause she knows how fucked up things got with the last identity reveal. But marinette FIGURES OUT CHAT IS ADRIEN, who she is super in love with, and doesn’t have him do the time rewind, so now she just knows and it’s too late to rewind, his power like expired.

In her head Chat Noir and Adrien are like SUPER different people (she laughs at him when he first says he’s Adrien, not believing him until he detransforms) so it takes her a while to connect them in her head. At first she keeps seeing chat noir in Adrien which kinda pushes her away from him, because she likes Adrien NOT chat noir, but then she begins seeing the Adrien in chat noir and that really brings the two together into someone she loves in her mind. So she reveals her identity to him after saying she would when she was ready ages ago, and he’s really happy about it and they start dating and it’s cute but obviously that can’t be for long because hawk moth loves to fuck up every good thing for his son.

Hawk Moth overhears Adrien call Marinette “m’lady” on the phone and is immediately like “oh this bitch is for sure chat noir.” So he takes him down into his secret lair and shows him his MISSING MOTHER’S DEAD BODY, REVEALS HIMSELF AS HAWK MOTH, AND ACUMATIZES HIM, MAKING HIM GIVE HIM THE BLACK CAT MIRACULOUS. and THATS not even the craziest bit cause we kinda knew all that would happen from the trailer, BUT, there’s this popular theory that Adrien is a sentimonster, a creature created using one of the miraculouses powers that is controlled by whoever holds a certain object it’s connected to. People thought the ring Gabriel wears is that object and UH right as he’s trying to acumatize Adrien, he’s fighting it off UNTIL Gabriel tells him to get acumatized or hand over his miraculous or something like that WHILE RUBBING THAT RING THROUGH HIS GLOVES, and then ADRIEN FUCKING DOES. SO. people are going a little wild about that theory basically being confirmed.

After that hawk moth shows up to marinette and adriens movie date w acumatized Adrien and adrien’s acumatized power is to speed up the process of things, so after ladybug does her lucky charm he speeds up her detransformation process, but she has just enough time to text luca (the superhero with the time powers that was helping earlier) a picture of the lucky charm, which is a watch just like the one they used earlier when the plan was to get Adrien to reveal his identity then rewind. She also texts him where she keeps all the miraculous’s so Luca can go to them and get his kwami (like… a little dude that’s tied to each miraculous and can do the same powers on their own but it’ll have big consequences). He tells his kwami what’s up, he rewinds time cause the world is ending now that hawk moth has the cat and ladybug miraculous, there are consequences that ladybug and cat noir fix by… flying to space and setting the time. And yeah now we know that no matter how the reveal happens, they can’t reveal their identities to each other while hawk moth is still a threat or the world WILL end about it.

Hmm I did not mean to type this much but now you know! Thanks for tuning in to Hannah’s very excited Miraculous Ladybug recap ^_^