#instead of it being water where this edge was it was a desert and the ground was covered in boulders that my kia was hitting and skipping on

[wetbananapeel]

Lol I've awoken because I had a dream and I scared myself awake

[monarchberrysblog]

📄 — take a seat (wild west au)

now presenting…

𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ kinktober | day one → face sitting

🔑 outlaw! miguel o’hara x fem! reader 🔑

🌵 summary: an outlaw crashes at your B&B and makes himself welcome in your tiny business.

🌵 content warning: edging, arousal from suspension, fingering, cunnilingus (fem! receiving), a surprise at the end 😗 as I mentioned before, this isn't like my usual smut. VIEWER’S DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

🌵 word count: >1.0k words

🌵 author’s notes: this is my first fic where I bend the rules. I hope y’all enjoy it! I did a lot of research for the last segment… oh my, oh lord.

🌾 not proofread! 🌾

link to → kinktober m.list

Credit given to @bluesidez for giving me light inspo for this! (They are working on a somewhat similar AU, so please give them all the love and support!) 💛🩵

A warmness crept into your eyes, pleading for you to release the waterworks. But you kept it in, not wanting to embarrass yourself. The only things that were escaping from you were your soft moans and sighs.

The soft kisses to your lips became hungry, desperate—a man seeking hydration from being out in the desert for days without water. “Miguel—” You choke on your words and grasp his thick, wavy locks, only pushing him towards your core. He forcefully pulls away, a mischievous look on his face. The wetness coated his chin and lips while an intoxicated shade of crimson was evident in his eyes. “Use your words.” He demands. He places a heavy hand down on your abdominal area, keeping you down on the mattress. “Oh, fucking hell—” Your breath staggers like a train’s engine as you thrust your hips up to his mouth.

“That works, too.” He breathes out. His canine grazes at your clit before licking a slow strip up, keeping his eyes on you like a predator looking at his prey. But the shade of crimson in his eyes only darkened when an idea crossed his mind. He slowly pulls away, licking his lip and looking at the sight before him. “C’mon… take a seat.”

“Excuse me?” You tilted your head up from the soft pillows, the edge of the build-up of stimulation fading along with your excitement.

He removes his undershirt and sits beside you, getting comfortable against the bed. “Take a seat.” He repeats, soon pointing at his face. You exhale a sigh of disbelief while you find your words, which you have been struggling to do all night. “I’m not going to sit—”

“Take a damn seat. None of that hovering bullshit.” He snaps, his hand gesturing you to come closer. You did as he demanded, straddling his face but not wholly putting your weight down.

His hands guide you up to your hips and waist and yank you down to his mouth immediately.

Instead of the soft kisses he exchanged, his lips and tongue moved fervor, savoring you as if you were his favorite meal. “Give me a moment…!” Your hand reaches down to yank Miguel’s hair to pull him away. He only moved closer, not giving you a breathing chance to recuperate.

You collapse onto the flimsy headboard, resting your forehead against its top. The soft kitten licks soothed your fluttering core, his tongue lingering on your clit.

You sighed contently and settled down. But after a few soft sighs and breaths, a soft push against your entrance staggered your breathing. Miguel’s finger gently nudged into your fluttering core, slowly sliding in. “There we go…” The wet gushing sound echoed throughout the space, voiding the space of silence. A loud, obnoxious moan escaped from the back of your throat, a loud, high-pitched sound you could have never imagined that you could conjure up. You roll the curb of your forehead against the headboard and move against his fingers, running away from them.

“No, no…” He cooes to you, pushing in a second finger. “Don’t run away from me now.” Miguel’s voice is muffled as he dives into another kiss, still making his fingers into your greedy entrance. His fingers curl slightly, pushing down on your g-spot. The slow, warm build-up formed in your lower stomach, and it was only a sensation that you were familiar with. A sensation that told you to get off.

“Wait! Stop! I need to go!” Your eyes dart down to Miguel, but he ignores your pleas. “You’re doing fine, sweetie.” His words are muffled, continuing his feast in between your legs. “I think not, I’m about to—” It was too late. A warm stream leaked out with the bubbling sensation, soaking the pillows and Miguel. You exhaled a sigh of relief, no longer feeling the bubbling sensation in your lower stomach.

The movements within a few seconds flashed as you were now laying on your back on the bed and feeling a cold barrel against your puffy clit. “Huh…?” You attempt to peek down before his hand meets with your neck and pins you down onto the bed. “Stay still.” He commands, moving the barrel up and down the bundles of nerves. “Take it easy…” He whispers before the said cold barrel slips inside with ease. You pursed your lips and inhaled sharply. “Don’t worry, I'm not gonna pull the trigger.”

Your inhale of air came to a seize. When did he grab the colt?

“Unless you want me to.”

“No…” You choke out. The engraved patterns on the barrel rubbed against your clit slowly, as if the bundles of nerves traced the design and wanted to memorize the texture. “Good girl.” the once cold colt mellowed out with your warmth, fogging the barrel. The thrusting of the weapon became futile, becoming more of an impossible task. “You’re close, aren't you?” He darkly chuckles as he continues with the same steady motion before you soak the colt, adding a coat of shine to the weapon. “No…” You feign confidence but fail the moment you kegal onto the barrel and finish, coating the silvery gun with a shimmer.

He pulls out and leans down, giving your entrance a deserving kiss before towering over you and rewarding you with a soft kiss. “You did so good.” He whispers, his voice sending goosebumps down your spine. He collapses next to you and pulls you close, rubbing a gentle hand down your spine. “You did good.”

tag list: (if you like to be tagged please fill out the google form on my pinned post)

@hyjionie @zaunsin

[procyonloser]

The road was empty and dark, apart from the occasional lizard or snake out basking on the edges of the asphalt, warming up after a day of the sun beating it to shit. Adam only ever drove at night, if he could help it, because the summer weather had his ass sweatier than someone on the rag in shark infested waters. There stopped being street lights after awhile, in the middle of the open range, no point to it, not enough people, so Adam drove with his high beams bright enough they'd probably blind a small child.

Adam knew he was starting to get a bit tired, but what he wasn't expecting, was to see a figure illuminated in his lights, off to the left of the road. They looked small and pale, and Adam had heard tales of sex workers getting dumped out in the middle of the desert and left to die. He screeched his car to a halt, just past the person, and rolled down his window. He was a bit surprised to see it was a man, but he was still thin, short, and didn't look real capable. And, more startling, he had splatters of blood on his shirt.

"Fuck man, you good?" Adam asked, brows knit together. The figure walked up closer to the window, and blinked at him owlishly for a second.

"I'm fine, but my car broke down." He said, his voice a deeper tone than Adam expected to hear come out of his body. "I...hit a deer."

That explained the blood then, Adam thought to himself. Fuckin' mule deer were all over Arizona. "I'm headed up north, did you want a ride? Could drop you at the nearest mechanic, but it'll probably be a few hours."

He stared at Adam blankly for a second, before a sharp grin started to spread across his face, pulling too wide at the corners, and his canines seemed weirdly long. "I would appreciate it...?"

"Adam, my name is Adam." He answered, and unlocked the door so he could walk around and get in the passenger seat. The man sat down, and Adam could smell the metallic scent of blood all over him. "You like music? I blast it while I'm driving."

"I love music," the stranger answered, staring unwaveringly at Adam, to the point he was starting to wonder if he'd hit his head in the car accident. "Will you sing for me?"

Adam paused, revving the engine of his old truck. "...Sure? Where's your car, by the way, I can get the coordinates."

"Oh, it's fine. It wasn't mine anyway." He said with a light laugh, but it put Adam on edge.

"... You said you hit a deer, right?" Adam asked, fingers tightening a bit on the wheel. Something about the guy was starting to freak him out, even if he was likely a fourth of what Adam weighed, and about a foot shorter.

"Sure," he responded, still smiling. "A deer. Yes."

"O...kay... You're not hurt, right? That's a good amount of blood on you." Adam asked, slowly starting to roll back down the road.

"I'm fine," he responded instantly. "Can you take me wherever you're going instead?"

Adam hesitated. He didn't want to say no, the guy was starting to give him serial killer vibes, even if Adam couldn't see any weapons on him. "Yeah, sure. What's your name?"

"Lucifer." Oh, great, he was a serial killer and insane.

"How long have you been out here?"

"Not sure, feels like hundreds of years. It's good to finally be free."

[pilot-boi]

god now i’m just imagining Blake suddenly realizing and saying “you knew you had to drink the poison”

And Jaune just isn’t able to meet anyone’s eyes

The five sit around a campfire scrounged together from dead brush in an alcove protected from the desert wind. Their conversation is slow, comforting, filled with hushed reassurances and rueful laughter.

With the benefit of distance, of being free, talk eventually turns to Jaune’s missing years. Simple curiousity, simple questions.

He doesn’t answer everything, but every word he says seems to draw some invisible hurt from a wound left festering for too long.

It’s Blake that brings it up.

Of course she is. She was the one to realize they were in a fairytale, the one who reminded them all how to play along with the fantasy while keeping their sanity. Their resident bookworm.

Of course she’s the one who realizes that their friend knew going in that he was probably going to die before the end of “the story.”

“Jaune?” Blake’s voice is quiet, but calm as a pool of water. “You knew, didn’t you?” Weiss can see how her amber eyes narrow, the agitated flick of her ears, but none of her distress is betrayed in her voice.

Which is just as well, because Jaune doesn’t meet any of their eyes, he just watches the fire. The white locks in his hair are stark against the rest, and not for the first time Weiss wonders if they’re a result of age or stress or something worse.

“Not right away,” he replies. And is that better or worse? That it took a little while for him to realize that he’d die before the story’s end, and he still kept to the script? “Before we reached the Red King.”

“Were you… Did you…” Weiss isn’t sure what she wants to ask, or if she even wants an answer. Were you scared? Did you know when it would happen? Were you ready? Did you want it to happen?

“I had to follow the story,” he says eventually, his voice breaking with emotion. Aged beyond his years, and yet still as young as any of them. “I had… It was my role. I couldn’t- I had to-”

“The Rusted Knight drank the poison in her stead,” Ruby says hollowly. “Would you have done it for me?” Jaune’s head shoots up, fast as a bullet, his face a mask as hard as the metal of his helmet.

Blue eyes aged beyond the years of the face they rest in meet silver eyes haunted by death and rebirth. The tension in the air is taut as a bow string, as the two leaders seem to communicate something only they understand.

A chunk of ice the size of her fallen home drops into Weiss’s stomach. The poison. The tea.

If Jaune had been there in time, would he have even hesitated to drink the tea for Ruby? Finally fulfilling his fairytale role? Finally doing something “right?”

Weiss is quite sure that would’ve only ended with BOTH leaders on the verge of ascension, instead of one. Because if Ruby had lost another friend, Weiss is certain that it would’ve pushed her over an edge she would never have returned from.

The desert wind fills the silence.

Jaune’s gaze falls back to the fire. “After the Herbalist, I was desperate to get the story back on track. I would’ve done anything to fix what I broke.”

“Even die?” Yang’s voice is steady as stone, but her hand is shaking in Blake’s grasp.

There are tears dripping down his face. He never processed this, Weiss realizes. He never processed anything, stuck as he was as the only thing changing in a world where everything stayed the same.

“I just wanted to do something right.” His voice sounds like he dropped it on the floor, it shattered, and he kept using it anyway. Cracky in that way it used to in Beacon. Too old and too young.

“I was the Rusted Knight, a paragon of virtue and glory, but I was messing it all up.” As he speaks, his voice gets more frantic, more hitched with tears. “We were at the end, there was no more story left. There was only one thing I could do to make sure they got their happy ending. And- And I-”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to,” Ruby interrupts, her voice choking with tears. I hate that it happened, that she poisoned you, but I’m glad you didn’t have to.” And again, it’s his fellow leader’s voice that draws Jaune out of himself.

But this time he looks like Jaune, all wide eyes and soft edges, not the metal of the Rusted Knight he was protecting himself with before. And Ruby looks like Ruby, older and wiser but with a spark of hope in her teary eyes that Weiss didn’t realize has been missing until they all almost lost it forever.

Ruby stands and walks around the fire, her boots making furrows in the sand, and pulls him into a hug. Jaune blinks, half afraid, half confused.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Weiss barely hears Ruby murmur this over the crackle of the flames, and whether she’s talking about Penny or Alyx or Pyrrha or Atlas or any number of things that both leaders have blamed themselves for over the years, Weiss doesn’t know.

But what she does know is that when Jaune chokes out a sob and buries his face in Ruby’s hair, and Ruby drops to her knees clings to her best friend like he’s the only thing anchoring her to Remnant, something slots back into place in the universe. Something that fractured almost beyond repair on the shore of a razed village of paper stars.

Jaune’s hair is streaked with white, Ruby’s whole body is shaking with sobs, and Jaune is whispering apologies that Ruby is meeting with her own. But they’re both still here. It feels like healing, or the very start of it.

And maybe Jaune would have drunk the poison for Alyx, but he didn’t get to. And maybe Jaune would have drink the tea for Ruby, but he didn’t get to. The world was full of what-ifs, gods the Ever After probably used as them as damn building blocks.

But what matters is that he didn’t, and that he would never have to.

[robinette-green]

Astrological Bullets

They tell you that blood is thicker than water, but I disagree. If I never see my brother again, it’ll be too soon. Not that I’ll ever get the chance. I’ve been tied to these railroad tracks for a few hours now, patiently waiting for a train to end it all. With the blindfold over my eyes, it’s hard to tell what time of day it is, but with the heat radiating off the metal underneath me, I knew the sun must be high in the sky. If a train didn’t end it, heat stroke or dehydration most certainly would.

When I heard the horse, at first, I thought that the heat had started to bring me hallucinations. It was odd. I had assumed that heat visions were just that, visual. The sound of steam being released into the air made me certain that I was firm in the grips of the desert madness until he spoke.

“You seem to be in a bit of a bind. Normally, I’d mind my business, but curiosity has gotten the better of me. What could a lovely lady like yourself have done to warrant being tied to these tracks?” There was an actual person… wild. What was releasing steam? Maybe I am hallucinating.

Licking my lips in a vain attempt to wet them, I tried to say something but had to stop and clear my throat. The sand and dry air had already done a number on me.

“I’d love to tell you… If you would be kind enough to untie me.” I could hear the man kneel down by my head, his shadow falling over me, blocking out some of the direct heat from the sun.

“I think I should hear your story first. You may be tied up for a good reason. I don’t want to go releasing you if you deserve to be where you’ve gotten yourself.”

I released a long, weary sigh.

“It’s simple, really,” I said with as much of a shrug as I could manage while tied to wood and steel.

“My brother owes Mr. Madison money.”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with your current situation, lass.”

“Mr. Madison’s goons apprehended me early this morning. Either my bother gives him the money, or I’m left out here to meet whichever fate finds me first.”

“And seeing as you’re still here, I’m guessing that your bother hasn’t found a way to pay this, Mr. Madison, his money.”

I rolled my head, partly in exasperation and partially to relieve some of the ache from my neck. Being tied to railroad tracks is rather uncomfortable.

“He’s managed to do less than try. He was out here a few hours ago. Said this was the least I could do for him. Dying to rid him of his debts.” Turning my head to the side, I would have spat in anger, but my mouth was much too dry. I scowled instead, teeth grinding together.

“I hope his sorry ass is disembodied by a bull.”

“We may be able to arrange that.” The man said with a chuckle before leaning over me. Fingers brushed against my face, following the edges of the blindfold back behind my head so it could be removed. I blinked in the sudden light, squinting up at the dark figure blotting out the sun. There was a hat atop his head, but coming from the sides of his face, there seemed to be metal points. In fact, the longer I looked up at him, the more he seemed to be made of metal. Blue eyes glowed down at me as he watched for my reaction, a slight smile playing across his lips.

Pulling a knife from a boot, the man leaned over and sliced the ropes holding me down. Fingers took mine, and he helped me to sit up, a hand going to the small of my back to keep me steady as spots appeared in my vision and the world seemed to swirl around me.

“Careful there, darling. Heat’s already done a number on you.”

A canteen of water was carefully pressed to my lips, and I drank greedily, one of my hands gripping his wrist to keep myself steady.

“Thank you,” I murmured, leaning heavily against this metal man.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Undersea Advisor.

In life, there are many variables to account for. Ah, but variables can be manipulated.

He remakes the world in his image.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

There are several little glass containers, lined up in a neat row, on his work bench. He is the master, and this is his craft: pocket dimensions, each with a different biome bottled.

Here is a lush garden with enchanted roses and caterpillars that blow smoke, and a savanna where miniature beasts race about. A desert with its own oasis--a massive scarab running amok, a regal castle he had painstakingly constructed with a pair of tweezers for a peacock no bigger than his thumb... He had even somehow managed to create a sleek building blinking blue lights and a crumbling chateau overrun with moss and bite-size bats.

His current project is a bowl of salt water, a layer of sand decorated with seaweed and coral at the bottom. He had taken the liberty of tucking fake jewels, a plastic treasure box, and a model of a sunken ship in.

For flair, he chuckles to himself. All that's left is to find proper aquatic specimens to house in it.

From the doorway, Jade adjusts the straps on his backpack, making sure that they're secure, that his supplies are in order. His boots laced, his jacket buttoned, he marches out the door and into the wilderness.

The forest is quiet and without trees but is not devoid of life.

Instead of trunks, there are stems--plump, pillowy, in various shades of white and cream. They are wider at the base and narrower at the head, which gives way to fluted undersides. Gills, Jade knows, a very different kind than those of a merman.

The air is clean and refreshing, lightly washed with spores. Not visible to the naked eye, but at the right refractions of sunlight, Jade can see them dancing into shapes upon the wind.

Circular shadows are cast across the ground, belonging to the caps that tower far above him. Mushrooms--macro-sized--have taken over the feet of the mountain, making it a suitable hideout for his hobbies. Sunlight spills through the cracks between the clustered caps, forming golden pools along the forest floor.

Jade makes a game of hopping upon them, one by one.

It isn't long before he comes upon the stream that cuts through the heart of the wood. A thin and humble little thing, able to be crossed in a single stride of his long legs.

Jade drops his backpack and drops to one knee. He inspects the fresh water up close with a careful eye. It's clear and still at the edges, white and foamy in the center, where it flows the fastest.

His heart leaps when he sees it--a streak of silver darting by.

He kicks off his footwear and rolls his pants up, silently stepping into the stream. Jade is cautious about not splashing, to avoid making noises or movements as that would disturb the wildlife.

He stands there, watching. Waiting, waiting, for that next fish to pass.

He thinks he sees it, a glimmer laid deep in the water. He reaches for it, fingers grazing wetness, but does not complete the grab.

“You like that, don’t you? The feeling of being in control, a life dancing in your palm,” a musical voice rings out. “It grants you security, assuredness.”

His eyes flicker down. His reflection shifts in the churning water, but he can see its mouth moving when his doesn’t.

An obstacle—amusing.

Jade purses his lips into a patient smile. “Oya, does a pixie presume to know those who visit their forest?”

“I am no pixie. In this pool of tears, all is laid bare,” his reflection says, “and given truth.”

“You claim to speak the truth. If that is the case, then you take no issue with divulging sensitive state secrets?” Jade’s smile grows, turning sharp. “To demonstrate your veracity, of course. I do not intend to misuse the information.”

“I know that you lie as easily as you breathe,” the pool replies, “for I have knowledge of only the souls that gaze into me.”

“A shame. I was quite curious about your awe-inspiring powers. Alas, there are limits put on greatness. It appears as though a puddle can never match the ocean in size nor in bounty.”

His reflection is not irked by his needling. “If you wish to take, then you must offer up a piece of yourself of equal value.”

“You have said that I lie as easily as I breathe. Is the word of a liar worth its salt?”

“You must speak truthfully.”

“But if I am a liar, and you have assumed my appearance, does that not, by proxy, make you a liar as well? That means what was uttered earlier is a lie, and I must tell an untruth—which I have already provided.”

The reflection pauses, considering the logic. Slow horror dawns on its expression—stolen from him—and it glowers.

"Liar," the reflection bitterly spits. It vanishes into the frothing waters.

There's a sigh, then the shudder of a release that fills the forest of mushrooms. Something, somewhere, has shattered.

Silver fills the clear stream, coloring it one shiny, metallic shade. Fins and scales bat against his skin. Healthy, plentiful.

Jade plunges an arm elbow-deep, and--

He gasps.

Something latches onto his arm and violently tugs. He's brought face-to-face with his own shocked expression, droplets hissing at him.

The stream, Jade realizes, should not be this deep.

He resists, trying to throw his body weight back, but the force holds tight. The slimy grip tightening like a fist.

He does not to fully relish in the surprise, so rare a feeling for him, before there is another strong pull. Jade falls forward, eyes wide as the water hits him in full.

Slowly, slowly... he finds himself sinking into an abyss.

It's the sea, deep and dark, shrouded by black mist. A ship-shaped shadow looms, at the inky depths--and through holes punched in the hull, undiscovered treasures wink up at him. Chests of forgotten gold and gems, like stars blinking in and out of view.

He dangles, suspended, like a puppet left upon the stage that has closed for the night. The scene, the stands, empty, save for the vague shapes of coral and twisting tendrils of seaweed.

Something shifts among the plants, and Jade tenses, preparing for a fight.

A long shape darts by, and his gaze tracks. The markings on it glow teal, peering through the murk--he recognizes it at once, relaxing.

"Floyd."

The name bubbles up and breaks upon the surface of the stream.

His twin circles him, his weaving tail sending Jade's jacket billowing. One is in the body of a human and the other, in their true form.

Floyd wordlessly grins, showing teeth like knives.

Behind him, the shadows swirl--a mess of writhing, squishy limbs and agonized moans. Tentacles, tentacles, painting a canvas with darkness.

A voice calls from somewhere in the void.

Floaty, far away.

"... de....... ade..."

"Jade!!"

He snaps awake, drawing in a deep gulp of air. As if he had just arisen from a dive.

Jade is seated at his workbench, blanked on either side. "Floyd, Azul..."

"We came as you had instructed, but it appears that now is not a good time," his dorm leader remarks. "You were sleeping like a log when we arrived."

"So I smashed a window with a rock and we let ourselves in!" Floyd declares proudly. Azul casts him a wary look.

"Just so you are aware, I am not to be held accountable for any damages incurred," he says hastily. "It was entirely Floyd's idea--I warned him against it and had him sign a liability form to assume any and all fees, should he ignore my advice and proceed with his ill-advised plot."

"Pfft." Jade chuckles. "My apologies. I must have become so enraptured in my project that I neglected to maintain a proper sleep schedule. The fault is mine, so I will not press charges."

Azul sighs, relieved. "Now, back to the matter at hand. For what reason have you summoned us here today?"

"Ah, that." Jade holds up his fishbowl, beaming. "I wished to share this with you both."

"Mmm, what is it?" Floyd asks, peering into the container. His face comes out the other end of it stretched wide and distorted, like the result of a funhouse mirror. "Looks like just some water to me."

"Another terrarium, I suspect." Azul pushes up his glasses as he surveys the other containers on the work bench "I see, so you've made one each in the image of the dormitories at Night Raven College. This one must be Octavinelle."

He suddenly frowns.

"Wait a minute, what is this?!" Azul thrusts a finger at a round little octopus suctioned to the inside of the bowl. The area around it is clouded with wisps of black.

"Hehehe, looks like Jade was right on the money with this one. That's so you, Azul."

"I-It is NOT!!"

"Really?" Jade's brows lift. "As I recall, you were exactly like this, tears and all, when..."

"AAAAAAAAH, stop, stooooop!! D-Don't say it, I can't bear that!!"

Jade laughs--soft and musical--granting his wailing dorm leader that single mercy. His chest is warm and full, a feeling his lies don't come close to.

I believe I’ve found myself company that is much more entertaining than any world right at my fingertips.

It’s his truth, the only one he has told this entire time.

[little-pondhead]

The Folly of Men -

Chapter 1: #355E3B

AO3 - MASTERPOST

[GENERAL TW: Swearing, lukewarm violence, lots of POV changes, and mild body horror.]

[Fair warning, guys: Canon is a ball pit, and I’m throwing a baby into it. I have no clue what's happening. Feel free to point out mistakes!]

-

Danny was starting to hate the color green. It was the color of death.

Green reminded him of the portal that killed him, and the electricity that was constantly humming under his skin. It reminded him of being on the wrong end of an ecto-blaster and having to dodge for dear life. It reminded him of choking plants that swallowed him whole and tried to turn him into fertilizer. It reminded him of his glowing eyes and how they seemed to take up his entire face when he looked at himself in the mirror.

And right now, as he lay weakly on his side, grasping at fresh wounds with shaky fingers as he tried to ice them closed, the green blood that was splattered everywhere reminded him he wasn’t human.

Not anymore.

-

Green was a familiar color to Ra’s al Ghul. It was the color of life. 

Green reminded him of the Lazarus Pits, mostly. When it was the reason he’d lived such a long life, how could it not be the first thing he thought of? Green also reminded him of his cloak and the warmth it wrapped him in during the cold desert nights when his wife was still alive. Of the beauty he saw in the natural world and why he wanted to protect it. It reminded him of his green eyes that have been passed down through his very few children and grandchildren. Green was the color of the al Ghuls and represented the power he’d amassed through centuries of hard work. 

And right now, as he stood before the Well of Sins, Ra’s was reminded of a secret contract that was buried deep within his personal records, and the monster he’d made it with. The Gardener, the creature called itself, was a being who had crawled out of a Lazarus Pit years ago in search of Ra’s. Its flesh was made from thorny vines and grasses intertwined, and its eyes were tiny red blooms that glowed and made him feel sick just thinking about it. It had forced him into the contract, exchanging power and knowledge in return for a promise of help in the near future. 

‘Near future,’ my ass. Timothy Drake's fleeting voice flickered in his mind, and he could only agree with his subconscious's crude words. It seemed like the only appropriate term as it had already been several centuries since the contract was made, and the being had yet to claim its part of the deal.

He watched, mind racing, as the Well of Sins started swirling frantically. He was alone, with his attendants on standby. Should he call them in? No. Whatever was causing the strange reaction in the pool had something to do with that contract. He could feel it. A power was tugging at his heart, drawing him closer to the edge of the green waters. He loathed to admit it, but this was beyond his scientific understanding. He just knew that every time he tried to look away and leave, his whole body felt like it was alight with flame.

So he stood. And he stared. For hours, possibly, before the first sign of something new caught his attention. A screeching sound was echoing from the bottom of the pool. It slowly got louder and higher pitched as the stone floor started glowing so bright Ra's almost risked the pain of glancing away.

A large head was making its way through the bottom of the pool. It went slowly to accommodate large shoulders, followed by a wide chest and narrow waist. The figure paid no mind to the churning of the Well of Sins and broke the surface of the waters with the ease of a seasoned swimmer. The screeching sound echoed wildly, bouncing unnaturally throughout the chamber, sounding more like incomprehensible words. Ra's wanted to plug his ears with wax and banish the figure back where it came from. Instead, he didn't even twitch an eye.

The Gardener stood before him. And it was carrying a body.

"Master of Lazarusss," it hissed, inclining its head in acknowledgment, but making no move to exit the pool. "Too long has it been, has it not? I've come to collect on my part of the deal."

Ra's nodded in return. Higher being or not, he refused to bow to anyone. "I've expected this, Gardener." He said roughly. Despite learning their language years ago, the sharp chirps and clicks made by the dead were difficult to sound out. It was like he was trying to mimic a broken radio. "Although it's taken longer than I expected for your arrival."

The Gardener clicked its beak in annoyance. "Don't give me flowery words, Pretender. It was not my choice whether to appear before you or not. The Scepter of our realm visited me long ago and commanded me thus; I only now see her vision behind it."

"I...see." He did not see, thank you very much. That was more information in two sentences than he'd ever managed to get from the Gardener. Were there others at play in this little contract of theirs? He did not like the idea of that. "And I assume this whole thing has something to do with the boy in your arms?"

The Gardener let out a low humming sound that seemed to originate from its chest and echo in Ra’s bones. It glanced down, turning the body over gently to let Ra's see his face. The boy was just a child, no older than sixteen. He was deathly pale and seemed eerily stiff, just as if rigor mortis had set in. His white hair was plastered to his forehead from the water, and his clothes were nothing more than rags. Thick green blood was leaking from several wounds and pooling underneath his skin. It wasn't hard to guess what the Gardener was about to ask.

"This is our Guardian and one of the last of his kind. His haunt is not safe anymore, and I task you with his care for the foreseeable future."

Without waiting for a response, the Gardener sloshed forward to set the boy oh-so-gently upon the edge of the pool, taking care that his thorns did not pierce the child. A few vines cupped his face gently as if the Gardener was sad about the boy's state of being.

The assassin made no move to step forward and claim him. "What iske?" He asked. Ra’s voice caught on the last syllable, and he had to repeat the question again properly. Annoying.

The Gardener didn’t seem to mind and just stepped back, relinquishing its hold completely. "He is our Guardian." It repeated. "Care for him well. His fraid will be on the hunt for him and return any harm tenfold. But earn his loyalty, and the power of the Infinite Realms will be at your fingertips. Good luck, Master of Lazarus."

With that, the Gardener disappeared beneath the waves of the Well of Sins, and the waters calmed. The only proof that someone had been there was the sopping wet teen that lay at Ra's feet.

Ra's stared at the boy. The tugging in his heart was a bind, he realized. And it was tying him to the boy. Well, caring for a dead child shouldn't be that hard. Despite his disagreement with Talia over the matter, Jason Todd had turned out just fine, hasn’t he?

With the contract heavy on his mind, Ra's turned and left the boy lying there, clicking his jaw and calling for his attendants to collect him. The Lazarus Pits had gifted him with a new heir, it seemed.

-

“WHAT DID YOU DO?”

In another world, a redheaded girl was on the edge of a rampage. Her scream echoed down the suburban street her house was on, and the neighbors sighed quietly and locked their windows shut, not realizing the severity of the question. They were used to this family's antics, and the girl's screaming as a result.

But this could not be written off as 'family antics.'

Jasmine Fenton, nicknamed ‘Jazz,’ was positively furious. Red-faced, she stood before her parents with steam coming from her ears and a bat in hand. 

“Jazzy-pants, we-” her father tried.

“Nope!” Jazz put up a hand to stop him. “Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. I already know.” 

She whirled around, tuning out her parents' protests as she stormed through their house. Correction, her parent’s house. If she had her way, Jazz would never see these metal and unloving walls ever again. Neither would her brother, once she found him. 

Her phone rang, and she flipped it open with a snap, leaving the bat at the end of the hallway. Only a few people had her number, and it sure as hell wasn’t her parents calling her. “What.” She barked, shoving the phone between her shoulder and ear as she dug through Danny’s closet. His bug-out bag hadn’t been moved. 

“It’s Tucker.”

“We have a code green and a code yellow.” She ground out. Good, the ecto-dejecto shots were up to date. The less time she spends in that god-forsaken lab, the better. 

“Fuck.” Tucker swore. Rustling was heard and she heard another voice in the background. “I’m putting you on speaker.” 

Jazz re-packed the bag quickly, adding in some non-essentials that she knew Danny would appreciate. After it was settled on her shoulders, she switched the phone back to her hand for a better grip. “Is Sam there?”

“I’m here.” The girl responded. 

Jazz tripped over her bedroom carpet in her rush to her room. She cursed but recovered and started ransacking her closet and drawers. “Good. One of you needs to contact Danielle. Our parents sold Danny out, and the GIW took him while I was gone yesterday. I’m going ghost and getting him back. Tell Danielle she’s in danger since they have her ecto-signature now.”

“We’re going with you.” Sam said firmly. There was more rustling, and Jazz guessed they were looking for their own emergency bags. “I don’t care how long it takes; we’ll get him back.” 

“Are you going to shut down the portal?” Tucker asked. 

Jazz paused, considering it. In the original plan, Danny was in charge of shutting down the portal while Jazz and the others took care of the Fentons, GIW, and everything else. It was personal for him; his final resting place. But now that Danny was missing, and they needed a reliable escape route. 

“Not permanently.” She decided. “I’ll figure out how to turn it off temporarily, or put a shield up, but Danny will need to be the one to make that call.” 

Tucker started typing furiously on his laptop, muttering under his breath until he got to the file he wanted. “Sam and I will take care of the town defenses, and Dani’s on her way from New Zealand. She’ll be here in a few hours. I’m sending you a bug; plug it into the Fenton’s security systems, and it’ll lock them out of the house for now. Only do it after you’re done in the labs. Sam’s gone off and is pulling some strings to get all the ghosts in town back to the Zone. I’ll start tracking Danny and shutting down all the Fenton and GIW equipment I can find.”

“Thanks, Tucker. I’ll meet you guys at Nasty Burger in two hours; pass that message to Danielle.”

“Sure thing. Oh, and Jazz?”

“Yeah, Tuck?” Jazz started counting her hidden wads of cash, making sure it was all there. They never wanted to believe the Fentons would go this far, but she was glad they’d made contingency plans just in case. 

She could hear Tucker’s silent snarl as he said his parting remark. “Leave enough of them behind for the rest of us.”

Jazz laughed, a little hysterical. “I’ll try.” She said, bidding him farewell. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she could look at her parents ever again. But she knew, deep in her bones, that if they tried to stop her, there wouldn’t even be ashes left from the hell she would raise. 

-

Gotham was caught in a storm. It was one of those ugly, howling summer storms that threw water in your eyes and bit your skin with a vengeance. Damian squinted, trying to make out the sight of Spoiler and Signal through the rain, but even their bright uniforms were lost in the shadows.

He tightened his grip on his grappling hook as a particularly harsh wind tried to throw him around like a ragdoll. Water seeped into his collar, making him shiver. A beep echoed in his ear, and he risked taking one hand off the line to answer his comms.

"Robin," Oracle was practically shouting in his ear over the storm. "Signal made it to the Cave. Spoiler is rounding up Condiment King, and then she'll do the same. You can go back now."

Damian tsked. "Father is still out here," he replied. "I shall not return until he does."

"Robin-" Oracle sighed.

Another gust of wind made him grunt, and he cut the call to refocus on scaling the building. The only good thing that came from such a wild storm was that most of the villains were smart enough to stay inside. Splitting up in such conditions always left a sour taste in his mouth, but Damian understood it was necessary to cover as much ground as possible during times of emergency.

He wasn't sure this counted as an emergency, but Todd was certainly treating it as such. The citizens of Crime Alley were being hit hard. Enough to the point where Red Hood had openly invited the Bats onto his turf to help with the flooding and evacuation from some unstable buildings. Batman and Red Robin had gone, leaving Robin and Orphan to cover their patrol routes.

Finally, finding purchase on the rough brick, Damian quickly hauled himself up to safety. Some of his equipment was ruined, and his costume was soaked. Truly, this storm had come out of nowhere.

His comms clicked back to life. "Robin." Cain's clipped tone was somehow louder than Oracle's voice.

"I'm here," he replied, scowling at the oily mud on his shoes. Damned pollution.

"Home," Orphan said simply.

Damian scowled even harder. He could argue with Oracle without issue, but he barely won when it came to speaking with Orphan. "...Fine." He sniffed. "I shall return."

"Good." Damian could hear the smile in her voice. "Agent A has cocoa."

"I'll consider it." He said stiffly. He imagined his adoptive sister smiling slyly and glancing toward the sky before the comms switched off, leaving him to his thoughts again. After checking his grapple to ensure it still worked, he started picking his way through the building at a snail's pace, letting himself get distracted whenever he spotted someone in trouble. The Batcave would be warmer and dryer than the streets, but not everyone had a dry place to return to. Every little bit helped in the long run, and even Damian wouldn't pass by a lost child in the rain.

The only thing that bothered him more than the dark clouds overhead and fresh hail on the way home was the unnatural feeling on his spine. It felt like someone was watching him, judging him. But when he looked, nobody was there.

-

The stars were gone.

Danny felt weightless as he floated, staring at the space where the stars were supposed to be. He felt lighter than normal. Danny was surrounded by colors that flowed and ebbed like the tide, taking him deeper into this mysterious space. Golden fish and silver deer wove past him as fire and ice trailed behind, and yet he couldn’t seem to muster up the energy to get up. He just laid there silently. A bone deep exhaustion was settling into him, but sleep refused him.

“Ghost Child.”

Oh, Danny was dreaming. He was already asleep.

He didn’t turn his head, nor acknowledge when the stars returned to his line of sight. The stars wrapped around him like a curtain, cutting off the rest of the dreamscape. Two bright eyes, burning like red giants, peered down at him as thin hands cupped his body.

“Ghost Child.” The voice repeated again, speaking in his mind even as the words were swallowed by the silence of space.

Danny turned his head slowly. “Nocturn,” he murmured. These too, were snatched from his throat and lost. The cold seeped into his chest and he hiccuped. He couldn’t speak. Not that he really wanted to.

Luckily, Nocturn seemed to understand him just fine. He cradled Danny gently, bringing him closer to his chest. Something shifted in the fabric of space, and suddenly Danny was being laid to rest on the smooth stone of a crescent moon, as pearly white as his own hair. He sighed as the coolness of the moon seeped into his body, soothing aches and burns he didn’t remember getting.

“Where are we?” He wanted to ask.

Nocturn blinked slowly at him, his face twisted down towards Danny. His ram’s horns glinted as a glowing blue jay landed on them and started preening itself. Danny wanted to fly with the bird. His body didn't move.

“Sleep, Ghost Child.” Nocturn hummed. The moon vibrated beneath Danny, soothing the electric currents that kept him awake no matter what he did. Danny’s eyes started sliding shut as Nocturn’s song wrapped around him like a lullaby.

The others… Danny’s mind whispered.

Are safe. The song replied. Rest, young guardian. Your people are safe. You did well.

That was all he needed to hear. Danny let himself fall into slumber, relief flooding his mind. Yes, his people were safe. He did well. He deserved some rest.

As the young ghost fell into a dreamless sleep, a real sleep, Nocturn gently tucked the boy in with a blanket made from his own starry robes, shifting the fabric once more to hide away his core, and the boy who was resting on it. The bluejay on his head chirped indignantly from the movement and flew away, leaving a trail of smoke behind.

Nocturn paid it no mind. Warnings from Fate were never a good idea to ignore, but the bird was but a memory of a life that had long since passed. It only stuck around because of the dreams that kept feeding it. The ghost let his lullaby continue as he returned to his work, taking care to move slowly.

Undergrowth was taking care of his physical body, so he would care for the boy's mind. Vortex was off to round up the little ghostlings who had scattered like dandelion seeds, and the Master of Time was keeping an eye on the rest of Phantom's fraid while they rampaged in the mortal realms. After the stunt he pulled to protect the Realms, it was the least the elder ghosts could do.

-

"Is the boy awake?" Ra's asked sharply, entering the private rooms he had set aside for the boy.

The attending nurse, an older man born with no tongue, bowed his head and signed, 'No, sir. Vitals are off. He is a cold corpse.'

Ra's regarded the boy. It has been several weeks since the Gardener dropped the boy off in his care, and he hadn't awoken once throughout the entire time. He truly looked like a regular dead teenager, if you exclude the unnaturally white hair.

The Demon's Head bent over the boy's bed, tugging open an eyelid to see if he would react. Nothing. However, he noted the boy's eyes were green, which he was mildly pleased about. Green was such a lovely color, and this boy seemed surrounded in it.

A sharp knock echoed from the door, and Ra's granted the other party permission to enter. His best phlebotomist, a man named Paz, entered, holding a stack of papers as thick as his thumb. He bowed to Ra's as soon as he saw him.

"The results?" Ra's asked.

Paz immediately handed over his work, fully confident that Ra's understood everything he'd written. "For all purposes, the boy is dead." He said in a thick accent. He spoke in halted Arabic, as he'd only lived in 'Eth Alth'eban for a short time. "He has no circulation. No heart to move blood, or lungs to breathe. We must move him every hour to prevent postmortem lividity. He has undergone an extensive autopsy process, but it seems it was stopped before his brain was removed. No organs remain in his body otherwise.”

Ra's examined the papers. They were reports from different scientists and doctors, all of whom had been assigned to examine and work on the boy. Most of them said the same thing. The boy was dead and had been for a while. If the Well of Sins didn't do anything when he first exited the waters, what good would it do now?

He flicked his eyes up. "But you think otherwise," he stated.

Paz nodded enthusiastically. "The boy is dead, but his blood is alive!" He tapped a green folder that was poking out from the bottom of the pile. Ra's shuffled the papers off to the nurse and opened it. Printed off charts had been scribbled over with Paz’s frantic notes, documenting his thought process.

The phlebotomist rambled excitedly as his boss read his work, gesturing wildly. “It’s incredible! Most of his red blood cells have died off, and he has an abnormal amount of white blood cells, which indicate some kind of infection. But his plates-“

‘Platelets.’

“Platelets,” Paz nodded his thanks to the nurse for correcting his speech. “The boy’s platelets are still alive, and are actually trying to heal his injuries! We recorded a time-lapse last week to confirm it. The process is incredibly slow, even compared to human healing, but there’s a difference! Because of the absence of red blood cells, the plasma left in his body has practically doubled in volume, even though there’s no circulation to keep it moving. We’ve noticed a collection of stem cells at the base of his skull has started growing as well, and whatever it’s producing is being released into the body at regular intervals.”

“What kind of cells are they?”

“Unsure. At first, we thought it was cancerous in nature.” Paz tapped the corner of the folder again, prompting Ra’s to turn the page. “And while these cells are certainly growing as fast as unchecked cancer, rather than doing harm, we’ve taken samples and noted that they’re merging with whatever original matter has been left in the boy’s body. Bonding, like glue! The healing process is periodically speeding up with every release, the plasma has started circulating on its own, and the white blood cell count is diminishing. Honestly, I’ve never seen anything like it! It’s filling in for everything that’s missing, and keeping what is there, alive. Dr. Vanessa hypothesized that within the month, it may even start replacing the boy’s organs.”

Ra’s looked up from the research. “These photos look like plant cells, is this an example or actual recordings of the activity?”

Paz wrinkled his nose. “Those are evidence of the activity. For some reason, cellulose is present within his body, and the mysterious stem cells seem to be a mix of both plant and animal matter. It’s hard to track even with our technology, but it looks like the cellulose is forming a sort of…skeleton? Frame? I’m not sure what the right word is, but Dr. Vanessa says they might start regrowing in another month. If that’s true, this would be a huge breakthrough in the realm of organ transplants and other medical fields!”

The Demon’s Head hummed, flipping through the work again and considering the man’s words. “Very good,” he praised. Paz beamed like a child at his words. “Unfortunately, I shall be releasing you of your duty, and your tongue is too loose for your head.”

“What-“ Paz’s eyes widened as he gurgled, his words cut off. Ra’s twisted his wrist, driving home the dagger he’d planted in the man’s heart. He had no use for men who talked too much.

Paz fell to the floor, convulsing as he tried to weakly remove the weapon still sticking out of his chest. His eyes rolled back in his head, and he went pale as his blood seeped out onto the floor.

Ra’s barely spared the dying man a glance, taking back the extra stack of papers from the nurse and neatly stepped around him to exit the room. “Clean that up,” he said over his shoulder.

The old nurse bowed his head, waiting patiently for the foolish doctor to finish dying before he got out the mop.

This is why the nurse had survived so long; he knew how to stay silent.

-

[Nocturn tucking Danny in to rest. Ghost speech says, "Rest well, ghost child"]

[dottores]

OASIS | CYNO

summary: even the general mahamatra must rest at times, and where a better place than your lap?

warnings: none, cyno overworking himself to exhaustion in the desert and you taking care of him. lowercase intentional, written on phone, no editing.

wordcount: i didnt check it was short probably 2k

notes: @hanmas @mxnjiros @saintdainsleif @dxlucs @manjiroscum @no3tis @tokyometronetwork

he was sleeping.

your throat was tight as you looked down at your lap, cyno’s hair was soft against the skin of your thighs, warm in contrast to the cool desert air around you. he hadn’t wanted to rest—the two of you had been moving for nearly three days straight and he was intent on getting back to sumeru city before tomorrow’s dawn, but you had seen the way his eyes were drooping with every step, and you had insisted that you stopped for just a moment, claiming that your own feet were hurting because you knew damn well he would deny being exhausted himself.

that, of course, had led to him offering to carry you and it was a ten minute argument trying to convince him that, no, you didn’t want to be carried and no, stopping for an hour or two wouldn’t kill him. it wasn’t until the two of you spotted an oasis in the distance that he finally gave in, your waterskins having dried out a few hours before, cyno’s lips dry and parched.

and he had collapsed when he had bent down to scoop up some water, face-down in the shallow pool of the oasis and unmoving.

you had rushed to him, heart erratic in your chest as you flipped him over and pulled him away from the water—he was heavier than he looked, short but a body of pure muscle that had you struggling to drag him away.

he was still conscious at the time, but only barely, eyelids heavy and cracked open, chest rising and falling thinly. his skin was hot, burning even, and you could see the way his muscles were twitching, spasming with even the smallest movement.

guilt spread through you again as you thought back to how he had fought off a large band of eremites while traveling past the dune of carouses the other day while you rested. you pressed another kiss to his forehead, then to each of his cheeks. he had pushed himself too far and had overstrained his body without giving himself time to rest.

… and now he was dealing with the consequences, unresponsive in your arms as you tried to keep him cool with water and wet rags. you were lucky that it was dusk when he collapsed, taking away the majority of the heat… but dawn would be breaking soon, and you could only hope that his body didn’t start crashing again when it did.

you shut your eyes as you brushed your fingers through his tangled hair, remembering how weak he had been as you brought your waterskin to his lips, eyes fluttering shut, throat bobbing as he swallowed all the water he could get.

and you hated how he had immediately to push himself up, but you think you hated even more how when you pressed your hand to his chest to hold him down, he was too weak to even knock your hand off.

“we need to get back to the city,” he had said, voice hoarse and scratchy from the harsh desert winds.

“you need to rest,” you had shot back, “you can barely walk.”

“i’ll make it,” cyno had countered with but you didn’t even bother to acknowledge the comment. instead, you worked at slipping his headpiece off of his head, despite his protests, shifting him into a more comfortable position on your lap, leaning against a tree on the edge of the shallow pool.

any fight he might’ve had left in him dwindled as you carded your fingers through his hair, fingers brushing over his cheekbones and tracing soft patterns on his skin. he had always been weak to gentle touches, melting into your arms after long days of work, leaning into your hand whenever you cupped his cheek. but what always got him the most was when you played with his hair, running your fingers through it and toying with the strands, it always had his eyes drooping shut before he could stop himself.

it worked like a charm every time, and it had worked just as easily a few hours ago when he was trying to convince you that he was okay to keep going when he could barely even move. in no time, cyno’s breath had evened out, chest rising and falling steadily, lashes brushing his cheek as he dozed off in your lap.

you were certain he had never looked so peaceful. even with you, there was often a sort of strain in his face that never went away—the unfortunate effect of his demanding position.

your throat was tight as you looked down at him, fingers absently tracing the scars that littered his chest. you never got to see him like this—cyno, the rare times he was actually home, always stayed up later than you working on paperwork and then woke up before you so he could handle his meetings with the sages and get back to you before noon.

if you ignored what had caused the situation to arise, you could almost savor the way he rested in your lap. he was always the one to take care of you and it was a nice treat finally being able to be the one to take care of him… even if it wasn’t by his own will.

in the distance, the sun began to break over the dunes, and of course, cyno began to stir in your lap. no matter how exhausted he might be, his body would always have him up as soon as the sun rose.

a small smile pulled at your lips as his red eyes fluttered open, glittering against the morning sun.

“good morning, sleepyhead,” you said softly as cyno squinted, confused at where he was and trying to figure out what had happened.

as soon as he remembered what had happened last night, he sighed, shutting his eyes in disappointment.

“we lost the night,” he murmured. “i wanted to get back before sunrise, it’ll be more difficult trekking the rest of the way to aaru in the heat. i’m-“

“cyno, you’re in absolutely no condition to move right now,” you said, pressing down on his shoulders as he tried to force himself into a sitting position. and you supposed it was testimony to how weak he was when he dropped back into your lap and gave you a look that was nothing short of withering.

“we can’t waste another day, the meeting-“

“can wait,” you interrupted, leaning down to press your lips against cyno’s forehead. his skin still burned, but you made sure to position the two of you beneath one of the oasis evergreens. you hoped that the shade would prevent him from overheating again. “you run yourself ragged trying to placate them. they can handle waiting on you for once.”

cyno shook his head, eyes sliding shut again. “no, my duty-“

“duty this, duty that, i don’t care, cyno,” you interrupted loudly, catching him off guard as his eyes shot back open to look at you. “i can handle being alone for days on end, i can handle the risks and dangers, but i’m not going to sit here and watch you kill yourself for a bunch of old coots that would probably rather you dead anyway!”

cyno hesitated before he let out a deep sigh, reaching down to intertwine his fingers with yours. “is it that obvious that the sages don’t like me?” he asked wryly.

“it’s not that they don’t like you,” you said as he brought your fingers to his lips to press a kiss against each pad. “they’re wary of you… i think you’re the first general mahamatra who’s ever taken his job seriously enough to challenge them.”

you added the end lightly, but cyno evidently did not take it lightly.

“a disgrace,” he muttered, and you let out a breath as you traced his lips. “they have nothing to worry about so long as they abide by their own laws.”

you hummed, prodding at his bottom lip and letting out a soft giggle as he nipped at your fingers.

“maybe that should speak volumes then,” you noted off-handedly, “that they’re nervous.”

you watched as cyno’s expression shifted into a more perplexed one, absently massaging your hand as he considered your words.

“maybe you’re right,” he said quietly, but you didn’t get a chance to question him as he turned his gaze back toward the rising sun.

the heat was already suffocating and the sun wasn’t even fully in the sky but the air already felt as if it was scorching your skin, even beneath the shade. it wasn’t this hot yesterday—you would not survive the journey to aaru village… and you didn’t think cyno would either.

after a few moments, he let out another tired sigh. “in my pouch… there’s a tarp. we can set it up above us to block out sun.”

your eyes lit up even if cyno didn’t look pleased with his decision. with a wide smile gracing your face, you leaned over him to press your lips against his.

and as much as he might be feigning disapproval, you could feel the way his lips pulled into a small smile against yours.

“and how are you going to entertain me while we’re stranded out here?” cyno said softly against your lips. “you know i don’t like being idle.”

you laughed quietly as you sat back up straight, watching as his intense gaze followed your every movement.

“well, i could think of a few ways,” you said, fingers grazing his cheekbone as cyno looked up at you through his lashes.

“oh? would you like to hear the new jokes i learned? i need to test them out on someone, i bought a book while on the liyue border a few months back and have yet to-“

“oh my god, cyno” you complained loudly, hand dropping from his face. “can’t you ever-“

you didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence, cut off with a soft hmph as cyno pressed his lips against yours—they were still dry and chapped but they felt like home. he moved fast, evidently already feeling better, as he leaned you back against the warm sand and hovered above you, red eyes dark and lidded as he looked down at you.

“i’m kidding,” he murmured. “… let’s make the most of our alone time.”

[dynamic-power]

I warned you that I was reentering my ATLA phase. 🤣 here's a little zukka with a splash of Suki because I just love them okay

There was an assassination attempt.

There was an attempt on Zuko's life, and Sokka was at the markets rather than at the palace like he should have been.

He heard the alarm ringing out as soon as the attack began, and while the other shoppers all looked up in confusion and curiosity, Sokka felt his heart drop into his stomach. He knew what those bells meant.

His limbs felt numb as he began to push his way through the crowd. They weren't moving out of his way fast enough. He couldn't think straight, could only yelp as his knees gave out beneath him. Small, strong hands gripped his arms and kept him upright. He was vaguely aware of Stuhti calling his name from behind him.

His mind snapped to attention when he heard her say, "maybe it's best if we stay here until-"

"No," he snapped. The words sounded furious and defiant even to his own ears. He'd apologize to her later. "Get me there now."

Stuhti nodded in understanding before stepping in front of him. "Out of our way!"

The crowd hadn't paid much mind to Sokka in his common Water Tribe garb, but Stuhti was in her full Kyoshi regalia. The people parted for her quickly and easily.

The numbness vanished in an instant, adrenaline taking over, and suddenly Sokka couldn't move fast enough. He needed to get back to the palace, needed to be there to protect Zuko, he should have never left, he should be with him-

"He'll be fine," he heard the warrior assure him as they left the crowd behind. "Suki is with him. She'd never let anything happen to him. And even if she wasn't, the Fire Lord is a powerful man in his own rights."

He knew that. He knew that. But that didn't stop the fear from crawling up his spine, creeping into his heart, blurring the edges of his mind.

They reached the palace gates, where two guards were standing watch, glancing uneasily between the ringing bell and the pair approaching them.

"Open the gate," Sokka demanded, and immediately one of them scrambled for the latch.

The bell stopped ringing. All of them turned to look up at it, but none of them relaxed. That meant the attack was over, not that everything was okay again.

As soon as the gate swung open, Sokka ans Stuhti pushed through and began the sprint for the palace. The courtyard was deserted, and the main door of the palace was open. Sokka could hear the shouts and commands before he even raced through the door.

The commotion stopped as the guards and warriors spotted him. He didn't even have to ask before he was being pointed down a hall.

"Ambassador. He's with Suki in his quarters."

Hearing that Zuko was okay did nothing to ease his panic. He needed to see him, touch him, hear his voice-

Stuhti stayed behind as Sokka made the now-familiar journey towards the Fire Lord's chambers. It took less than a minute, but every second felt like a lifetime.

The door was shut and no one was guarding it, but that didn't matter. Sokka shoved it open, slammed it behind him.

"Zuko."

He was there, seated in an armchair, alive and breathing and smiling up at Suki. He turned when he heard Sokka, and then he was on his feet, crossing the room in a few easy strides.

Sokka collapsed into his arms, clung to him, buried his face in Zuko's neck. Relief settled through him and for a moment, he thought he might cry. "You're okay."

"I'm fine," Zuko said. He held Sokka just as tightly and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I didn't even realize what was going on until it was practically over."

"Honestly, we didn't get in on any of the action," Suki said, sounding a little disappointed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Sokka grumbled, finally letting go of Zuko and reaching out for Suki instead. She sighed and melted against him, tucking her head under his chin.

"You know, we've been given the rest of the day off," Zuko said, and Sokka could hear his smile.

"Good," Sokka replied, letting go of Suki and eyeing Zuko as he backed up towards their bed. He sat on the edge of it, grinning as the Fire Lord began to approach him with a fond and slightly hungry look. He threw himself backwards into the mattress. "I could use a long nap after the morning I've had."

Suki giggled as Zuko sputtered at him. "The morning you've had? What about the morning we've had?"

[godihatethiswebsite]

Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

✽ Part 8 - On a horse with no name

Let's just assume from now on that I'm incapable of writing anything that could conceivably be referred to as a 'normal length', shall we? I already broke this up with part 7 and I didn't want to give you three chapters of just desert.

Also I have an Ao3 now if any of you would prefer to read it over there instead. All of my works will be cross posted.

Buckle in for this almost 13k monstrosity! :)

Traveling the first leg of the desert was definitely not a glamorous endeavor. Adjusting to a horse’s gait was far different than that of a camel’s pace. Whereas you were familiar with the lateral walk of the former which had diagonal leg pairs moving together, the latter moved in a syncopated rhythm - both legs on one side progressing forward at the same time. 

You quickly learned it was imperative to let your body sway along with the rockiness as it plodded along, tensing up only serving to add discomfort to an already strange motion. It took some getting used to, but once you got past the years of conditioning from riding horseback and into the hang of it you found it a rather enjoyable experience lumbering along over massive sand dunes.

The sweat beaded on your temples, dripping from your brow bone and skiing down the ridge of your nose. The sun scorched your skin and chapped your lips, tongue darting out to relieve the worst of it as you tried to be sparing with your water consumption.

The breaks were few and far between, but that was to be understood when you were voyaging through a dry, arid wasteland with an average temperature of over forty degrees celsius. You’d made the journey across the Mediterranean and Tyrrhenian Seas multiple times in your life, accustomed to the vastness of the blue rolling waters laid out as far as the eye can see. It was easy to see how civilizations believed the world was flat for millennia when there was nothing to break up the horizon.

You distinctly remembered your first crossing as a child. You’d ended up clutching onto your mother’s skirts in horror the first time you sailed away from the coast out into the English Channel. It was an unsettling trick of the eye; as if you were staring at the most beautiful painting of sky and sea… but if you got too close you’d sail straight through the canvas and off the edge of the world.

The same could almost be said of your current environment, sand seemingly endless no matter how far the camels trudged onward. The landscape was broken up only by the occasional rock formation, areas of packed earth along the flats where the brittle cracks spoke of how parched the ground was. 

There were no views to entertain the mind - just nothingness. Over nine million square kilometers of it.

The boys spoke at length the first day, the topics of conversation ranging from the recollections of their past to stories of their recent. Some of these were ones you’d already heard from your cousin that they were more than happy to revisit. The occasional argument broke out about the particulars of the events, one saying this while the other said that, the two of them squawking like ruffled geese that refused to secede territory to the other.

Kyle once looked back at you as if expecting your input to be a tiebreaker, something that genuinely made you laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you reminded him that at no point had you ever been to Cambrai nor did you understand the logistics of how to take apart and rebuild an SMLE.

So far as your own input to the discussions, you left most of that to the men to engage with you. It wasn’t as if you were being antisocial - hard to attempt with two chatterboxes for company - but you spent more time being an active listener than a willing participant. In truth, it was nice to turn your brain off for a bit and be swept away by the tales they’d spun of their times together. 

How many nights had you spent curled up in the parlor, legs tucked up under you with a glass of port in your hand while Kyle whiled away the midnight hours stirring your imagination of the many things he’d seen out there in the wide open world? His voice became a soothing balm on evenings where sleep eluded you, taking over for the comfort provided by your father after his untimely passing years prior. You would never object to a recital from him, certainly not now when it was aiding to take your mind off the harsh unimpeded sun battering down on your group.

What really surprised you was the amount you found yourself enjoying the rougher Scottish lilt of your other companion. There was a brashness in the way Johnny spoke compared to your cousin that could be borderline offensive to the ear at times, but it was oddly refreshing to hear the candidness of someone who hadn’t grown up afraid to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. And the man had charm for days that came so naturally to him you could brush off anything that left his lips with an exasperated but secretly fond sigh. 

Johnny tried numerous times to drag out your thoughts on certain matters pertaining to things you might have some knowledge or experience in, but more often than not you didn’t take the bait to start up a conversation, not even when the topics turned less ‘civilized’.

You weren’t a prude. Whilst you had no experience of your own to speak of, you were certainly educated by this point in time of the way life goes that certain subjects and suggestions didn’t rattle you the way it had in your youth upon first discovery. And swearing was a bad habit you picked up as well if the occasion called for it. 

So despite Johnny’s best attempts to shock you into giving him some sort of response he could work off of, you didn’t bat an eye at his crass language.

You ignored the way his eyes lost a bit of their luster every time you shrugged off his attempts, though he lost none of the determination to sway you otherwise. It wasn’t until Kyle took sympathy - on you or Johnny, you couldn’t say - and steered it back to other topics that Johnny relented and went back to their own merry prattle.

Part of you felt bad at your treatment towards Johnny, but there was still a small nagging in your gut that kept reminding you there was a dangerous man hiding behind that dazzling smile. 

Did you think he was going to do something untoward in the middle of the night to either you or Kyle? No. He’d proven as much the two times he’d saved you from a premature end. But it didn’t feel right to be fraternizing with someone who only a few days prior had been locked up in a Cairo prison for crimes that hadn’t even been addressed by him yet. 

Just because he was kind didn’t erase the fact that he was a felon.

Still, despite your reservations on the man, by the time you all stopped for the night and passed around rations for your supper, the animals grazing on nearby fauna as you settled down into your own spaces, you found yourself longing to get back on the camel if only for the simplicity of getting lost in his oddly enchanting brogue.

You couldn’t sleep. You’d been trying for the better part of an hour now, but at every turn the concept seemed to have eluded you. By all accounts you should’ve had a better time of it than the previous night, equipped as you were now for the next days travel through the desert; a colorful sleeping mat providing a protective layer between you and the hard rocky ground, your rolled up bag propped under your head for support, a weaved blanket warding the chill off your bones. Even the light of the smoldering campfire was helping to ease your nerves of being out in the middle of nowhere. But you were lacking the exhaustion of last night even with the added ache in your body from a full day’s ride on camelback.

You could practically feel your joints creak in protest as you sat up from your prone position, pulling your dress down over your legs as you brought your knees up to your chest to sit more comfortably. Wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, you took note of your cousin asleep on his own mat opposite the fire, flayed out on his back snoring quietly. Your other companion lounged back against his own bag, half upright with one leg sprawled out in front of him and the other knee bent. A book rested propped up on the latter, a pencil in his hand as he kept his attention on the pages in front of him. 

You watched him quietly for a few moments, lost in thought of nothing really tangible. Merely caught up in observing the way his writing instrument flowed across the paper.

“Have a curious habit fer starin’, don’tcha hen?”

It startles you out of your stupor, lifting your gaze to his face to find him still focused on whatever it is he’s working on. You made sure to keep your voice down so as not to rouse Kyle.

“I could spend my time counting the grains of sand if you’d prefer.” 

That garnered a small smirk to his face, something that warmed your insides even if he had yet to glance over at you. “If ye like. Not gonna judge a lass fer her choice in hobbies.”

“Says the man judging me for people watching.”

Johnny paused his writings as he considered your words, nodding his head in a way that suggests he knows when he’s been beaten. “Fair ‘nough.” He placed his pencil between the pages of his journal like a bookmark, closing it and setting it off to the side. It’s only then that he finally lifts his gaze to yours. Even in the shadow of the night, there’s a flame inside those eyes that has nothing to do with the one flickering in the middle of camp. “Gather yer havin’ a hard time sleepin’?”

“Legs are too sore to get comfortable,” you grumble out with a small grimace, fully aware of the throbbing on the inside of your thighs now that you were paying attention to it again. “Not used to having them spread that far apart for so long.”

It was only when Johnny suddenly and violently barked out a bout of laughter that you realized the unintended double meaning to your statement, ducking your head as your face began to heat in mortification. It also had you cringing at his volume, fully aware of the other member of your party slumbering nearby.

“Don't wake Kyle,” you scolded softly despite your embarrassment, glancing that way to make sure his sleep remained undisturbed.

“Not tae worry, hen. Man sleeps like a wee bairn if given the chance. Ye’d be surprised the things our ears are trained ta pick up on. If he needed tae be awake, only then would he be.”

He stated it so matter of factly that it gave you pause. It was weird hearing the person you grew up knowing talked about in that kind of light, one tinted with a red hue that made you ponder how much you really knew him nowadays. You’d seen the effect of war on the men who came home, deceived at first into thinking that your cousin had been spared the crippling memories when he first waltzed through your door looking as polished as always. Once the sheer joy at your cousin’s homecoming softened, it was then you realized there were shadows lurking behind those big brown eyes you’d never seen before. 

But what if what happened to him wasn't the only reason for his changes? Maybe it was more than trauma that turned the gorgeous smile into something with a subtle bite. 

Taking a look at his relaxed sleeping form, you weren't sure how many molecules were left of the boy who once yanked your pigtails, broken down and remade into something maybe not befitting this kinder world anymore.

“Sometimes I feel like a different man came home to me,” you confided softly, Johnny quiet and still as he allowed you your space to vent. “I know it’s not fair of me to have expected him to return untouched by battle when I’ve seen so many others shaken to their very core at experiences they still won’t give words to. But it’s like there’s a whisper of a thing prowling beneath his skin that occasionally slithers out to take many forms. Sometimes it’s sadness and grief swimming at the bottom of a bottle. Other times its words sharp as knives spat out and guarded behind bruised knuckles. I’ll look at my cousin and not know if I’m talking to the man I left behind or the creature that remains.”

It was a hard thing to admit out loud - this weight you carried with you. Even odder still was the fact that you were sharing your innermost thoughts with a man you’d had the scantest of conversation with prior to this. What was it about him that made words spill unbidden from your lips that you’d hardly acknowledged yourself?

“Ah’ll not try tae explain the complexities of war tae ye, hen, but when ya send a man tae greet his God there’s a sliver of yer soul that goes with ‘em.” 

You’re instantly drawn back to him as he speaks, expecting to see him burning a hole right through you with the intense truth behind his words, but finding him engrossed back in whatever project he’d taken up in his book. It’s almost like there’s something in his eyes he doesn’t want you to see, revealing it to the pages instead. You’re being spared from something that you have no clue what it is. 

“Garrick is a fierce fighter, one ah’m glad tae have mah back in any sort of danger ye can fathom. Comparatively, he’s also one o’ the most easy goin’ blokes ah’ve had the pleasure ta serve with. Has a good head on his shoulders, that one. The lad can ease even the most ruffled o’ feathers and leave ye with the biggest grin tae grace yer face in ages. Ah owe him fer more than jus’ the skin off mah back.”

You knew exactly what he meant. After the death of your parents, Kyle had been instrumental in keeping all the broken pieces of your heart from fracturing even further. Curious to think the man who was currently heaping praise on your cousin was also the same man Kyle wrote home about in such high regard.

“From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have a certain gift for doing that yourself.” 

The small smirk that appeared on his face seemed to have cleared away whatever cobwebs he’d collected on his soul, eyes full of mirth as he looked to lighter subjects - and you. “Warmed up tae me now, ‘ave ye lass?”

“Didn’t need warming up when we were never chilly in the first place.”

“Not from where ah’ve been standin’.”

“That’s not true. I–” The look he gave you sunk deep into your bones and spoke volumes, having the decency to avert your gaze as he pried out the truth from your attempted denial. “You didn’t exactly make the best first impression is all…”

Glancing up at his heavy sigh, you watched him rake his fingers through the long strands of his mohawk for a few moments as he collected his thoughts into words. “Cannae fault ye fer that. Must’ve appeared like a right scoundrel tae ya. Dinnae mean tae upset ye so badly, hen. Ah’dve much rathered our first meetin’ have happened someplace more befittin’ a warmer introduction.” 

You figured it was as good a time as any to inquire as to the particulars of his incarceration, having learned nothing from your cousin about the subject when pestered. Part of you couldn’t deny being nervous as to his answer - if he would even give you one. 

You kept your voice soft as you implored him for some reason not to think the worst of him. “What happened, Johnny? What put you in there?”

“Defendin’ a lass’s honor.” 

His unexpected response gave you pause, finding yourself sitting up a little bit straighter at the seriousness in his tone. Given his nature, you weren’t so much surprised to find a brawl landed him behind bars. It was the noble reasoning to his actions that had you reevaluating your views on the man.

“Stumbled out o’ the gin joint one night after comin’ back from a job. Happened upon a bloke overpowerin’ a poor thing on mah way out the door. Gave the fucker the privilege o’ findin’ out wha’ happens when the tables turn and yer not the one with the power anymore.” He held his head up higher as he went on. “Two broken ribs, shattered patella, fractured jaw, dislocated shoulder, black eye, punctured lung, and a feedin’ tube. Copper said it was assault. I said it was re-learnin’ manners.” 

His eyes held no trace of deceit, but there was undeniable pride in himself at what he’d done. Not a single ounce of remorse shined through - just pure sated venom. He might have named himself a predator, but Johnny wasn’t a mere coyote out to stalk the wandering herd of sheep for stragglers.

He was the livestock guardian dog who came back home with a reddened maw and chunks of flesh between his teeth.

It curled something within you as you took him in, the weight of past grievances off your chest that had kept you from truly acknowledging his character. He may have been a little rougher around the edges compared to the gentlemen you normally kept company with, but how many times had those knobby knuckles been split wide on the face of a man who deserved it?

“Gonna make ye think a wee bit better of me now, lass?”

You considered him for a moment. “I think I’m finally getting a clearer picture of the man Kyle always claimed you to be.”

There was something akin to subtle relief in the look Johnny gave you, the way his shoulders minutely untensed in previous preparation for a different verdict. You didn't think your opinion of him would have mattered so much, though you supposed most people didn't want to be viewed negatively by your peers.

You didn't try to dig into a further reasoning beyond that.

“You know, he would prattle on about you all the time.” It was easier for you to stare into the fire as you spoke of your cousin’s ramblings, feeling odd recounting such things to his actual person. “He’d write me letters almost every day if he could. Said it was for my own peace of mind to let me know he was still breathing, but I think he was also reassuring himself of that notion as well. He often wanted to chat about home, a distraction from everything and a way to dodge the questions I fielded him concerning his own life. But he also spoke of his adventures out in the real world. Heard about the mischief you lot entangled yourselves in all the time.”

There was a fondness to your smile as you recalled certain tales of misbehavior, numerous as they were. “I know he must’ve sugar coated things for my benefit more often than not, but what he did share with me…” You shook your head in mild exasperation. “How the two of you survived with only a single brain cell between you I’ll never know.”

“Ah’m an upstandin’ citizen, hen.” There was a twinkle in those sapphire hues as he spread his arms wide in playful boastfulness. “Couldnae find a scrap of funny business in me if ye tried.”

The chuckle in his voice was infectious, a giggle bubbling up from your throat making its way past your lips and into your speech. “Oh really?” You challenged, “Then what say you about the incident involving the Mark IV and that bottle of Macallan?”

Johnny scoffed. “Rust bucket was highly volatile after sufferin’ heavy damage durin’ a previous skirmish. Minor malfunction in the tank’s firin’ mechanism led to a unexpected implosion.” 

“Interesting way of saying you dropped a stick of dynamite in a freshly downed bottle of single malt whisky and left it in the center console to go boom.”

He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed through that cheeky smirk. It was a good look on him. “Lad’s gotta find a way tae keep morale up in the troops, hen. What’s a harmless bit o’ merrymakin’ between comrades if it means givin’ us a well earned respite from combat?”

“And that time you and Kyle snuck into a German occupied hotel in Brussels to avoid sleeping out in that deluge?” You’d had some choice words for your cousin in that fervently written reply.

“Simple reconnaissance mission.” 

“Mmhmm.” Wow. The audacity to say that with a straight face…

“Ye know, yer not the only one familiar with the other, hen.” It was a change of subject mainly to get the heat back off of him, but it did its intended purpose as your interest was piqued. “Couldnae stop hearin’ Kyle bletherin’ on about his precious dolly back home. Made the lads jealous fer havin’ such a pretty bird, even if ye were related.”

You squirmed in your seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear that you proceeded to twirl around your finger as a minor distraction. It made you strangely uncomfortable to hear yourself be spoken of like that - not at the fact Kyle shared things about you with the others. Moreso the way he did. “I’m afraid my cousin has probably put me on too high of a pedestal then. I’m far less interesting than he would have undoubtedly led you all to believe.”

That must not have been the response Johnny was expecting from you. There was genuine puzzlement as he glanced you up and down, almost checking to see if he was addressing the right woman. “Didnae think one such as yerself was never taught how tae take a compliment, hen. Yer much more than ye seem to realize.”

To be fair, up until now you were confident you knew how to take one as well. It was part of being out in society; knowing how to dole out false modesty at praises while simpering behind a fan as fancied lords did their best peacock impressions in an effort to win your favor. You’d never been overflowing with suitors in your youth, but you’d eagerly smiled and blushed while returning their flattering remarks. 

‘How accomplished you are at dancing, my lady.’ ‘What remarkable needlework you’ve created!’ ‘Your skin is positively radiant. What cosmetics do you use?’

This felt different though. It was easy to impress people whose whole livelihood was dedicated to the art of faking being impressed. Amongst the people who did something that actually mattered, all those years spent mastering the arts of elocution and poise were paltry in comparison. What good does perfecting a chain stitch or curtsey do in the real world?

“I was brought up to be the very model of a well bred enchanting heiress; hardly a lifestyle made for excitement or spontaneity. Of course there were my studies in Egyptology that were all self taught, but even there I'm much more a phantom floating through the halls of the Cairo museum in search of new knowledge than someone of actual importance to the place. I’ve never been one for real adventures. Ask Kyle. He was always the one dragging me out on some silly thing or another.” Much to the displeasure of your parents.

“Only ‘cause he wanted tae give ye the things ye always dreamed of but never let yerself ‘ave.”

That caught you off guard - not to mention it didn't make much sense in the first place considering how many times you’d objected to Kyle’s ventures before you predictably gave in to his fervent harassing.

Your silence gave Johnny the chance to elaborate at your quizzical expression.

“Look… yer a proper lady, hen, and there's nothin' wrong with embracin' that part of ye. Ye should never feel ashamed of yer sex or how ye were raised fer a world much different than most. But ye would think up such grand ideas knowin’ full well ye’d never get the chance tae experience them yerself and it broke the poor lad’s heart. Ye were a willin’ participant to a way of livin’ that kept ya from actually livin’. Garrick just had the guts and half a brain tae put action ta yer silly imaginin’s, even if ye dinnae realize he was doin’ it at the time.” Johnny shifted his posture to get more comfortable, intertwining his fingers and resting them on his abdomen. “So far as ah'm aware, ye were the mastermind behind all yer youthful endeavors.”

That wasn't true. I mean, there was no denying that Kyle had taken up a massive part in a lot of your formative years, playing pretend and going along with the stories you crafted in your mind. The pair of you were thick as thieves whenever one of your families made the long trip to visit each other. It was easy to admire the way he moved through the world so effortlessly, a perfect blend of casual arrogance and easygoing confidence. He was everything a well brought up man should be, only with a mischievous streak that often got you in trouble by association. 

It was a well known fact that you were the innocent one in all his schemings.

There was that time he… 

Or maybe when…

…but what about…

Suddenly you were sat there staring blankly at your lap, mentally combing through memories of your childhood trying to justify all the times you and your cousin wandered off only to be scolded at the end for something he roped you into participating in. However, each time you peered closer at the unfolding events of the day, you were finding it harder to argue that you’d been as passive as you'd always believed.

You’d constantly been praised growing up by the adults for being a sweet, demure, amiable good girl. Kyle was the one who was the delinquent of your duo… wasn’t he?

Sensing your confusion, Johnny offered up an example to help your brain along. ”How’s about when Garrick put ye up on the handlebars o’ his bicycle and ye nearly crashed into a carriage on yer way down the hill? Wouldnae ‘ave happened if ye hadn’t opened yer mouth minutes earlier and asked how fast the bloody thing could go.”

The temptation to go over and kick your cousin awake just so he could tell Johnny otherwise was strong, but he kept talking before you had the chance to move from your bedroll. “Then there was the time ya snuck into yer da's study tae steal a cigar because ye were upset when he denied yer request tae try a puff. Said it wasnae proper for ladies ta partake.” 

You recalled that night quickly, Kyle fiddling with a small set of tools in his hand that he procured from god knows where to unlock the top drawer of your father's desk and steal one of his finest from his collection. It had ended up being a ghastly affair, choking down smoke as your cousin laughed at your inability to handle it the way he could.

You'd been fifteen at the time and hadn't touched one since. 

But that had been on a dare, hadn’t it?

You scrambled for something to latch onto as the uncomfortable truth of your once accurate beliefs stared you in the face, hidden pieces of your spirit put on display. There must be something–

The garden wall.

When your cousin conned you into climbing it with him and you scratched up your legs on the thorny rose bush at the bottom. You would’ve been four at the time to his six. Mother had been so cross as she tended to your bleeding cuts while Kyle’s father gave him a stern reprimand in the other room. That had been the first day you’d met and set the tone for the rest of your lives.

The incident that started it all.

Voice nearly teetering on hysterics, you held tight to your victory as proof of your innocence. “He was–” For a moment you forgot the subject in question was still dozing ten feet across from you, lowering your voice down to a harsh whisper. “He was the one who wanted to go over the garden wall!”

“Because ya complained the wall stole yer sunset and ye wanted it back.” His stare held no room for argument - no escape to try to back away from.

And just like that, the shimmering veil draped over your remembrance fell away as a long buried part of that day came to the surface. 

An afternoon spent outside playing in the grass, darting between trees and through rows of flowerbeds, your cousin at your heels. Your mother fussing over the dirt on your hem while your aunt placated her with a chuckled ‘let them be children’. The disappointment of the darkening sky signaling the end of your visitation.

‘But I wanna keep playing!’ You pouted with a quivering lower lip and watery eyes, not quite ready to leave your new friend and return home. ‘Stupid wall. Why’d it have to take away the sun…?’

A readied hand reaching down for yours. ‘Then let’s go get it back.’

Oh.

Johnny watched the emotions change on your face, letting you stew in them as long held perceptions suddenly gained a new clarity. It was quiet after that, the only sounds to be made were the camels' occasional gruntings in their sleep and the soft crackling of dry wood burning away in the campfire. It seemed you had a lot of things in your past to come to terms with.

“How come I don’t remember it that way?” There was a tinge of frustration at how faulty your memory apparently was, but it was more out of sadness than fury.

He shrugged, though not without a look of sympathy. “Ye were young. And Garrick didnae want ya tae feel like ye weren't bein’ a dutiful daughter. So he gave ye the push and took the fall himself. But ye cannae look me in the eye and tell me the bumps and bruises hadnae been worth it fer all the smiles it gave ya.”

You didn't quite know how to process all that; the fact that a complete stranger had more insight into your life than you who actually lived it. Your voice soft, “He told you all that?”

“Aye, he did. Feels like there's not much I dunnae already ken about ye, hen.” Johnny reached down to where he’d discarded his book from earlier, opening it up to the bookmarked page before inspecting his writing utensil with a frown, apparently finding it wanting.

You scoffed at his words even as part of you started to believe him, hard not to with the evidence he laid at your feet. But even the gesture itself was more of a soft exhale than something mean. "I hardly think it counts when all the stories you’ve heard are just ones parroted about Kyle that I happened to be involved in.”

“There’s a field beyond Garrick’s property in Kent where he’d always find ye in the summer playin’ amongst the Meadowsweet as a wee lass. Ye liked to weave it into yer hair and pretend ye were the Lady Guinevere waitin’ fer her Lancelot.”

The look of utter surprise on your face must’ve been a sight to see, but Johnny wasn’t paying you any mind, taking a small blade from his boot to the blunted tip of his pencil as he started unravelling the particulars of your life. There was a fondness in the crinkle of his eyes as if it was a beloved memory of his own rather than one of yours. 

Why were these the kinds of stories Kyle told him about you and why did Johnny find them to be worth enough to remember them?

He continued while he sharpened. “Ye once spilled cherry juice all over yer new spring frock after sneakin’ intae the pantry fer a bite ta eat before a picnic with some o’ yer parents friends. Ye were such a sensitive bairn that yer da’ had only ta look at ye wrong fer ye ta turn tae tears and beg forgiveness. Ye’ve avoided the fruit ever since, but yer a right fiend fer strawberries.”

”The Early Dynastic and their burgeonin’ household religious practices are amongst yer favorite aspects of ancient history, but ye froth at the mouth o’er anythin’ concernin’ the mysteries o’ the First Intermediate that were lost tae time and pillagin’.” 

”Yer allergic tae cats, but ye pet ‘em anyways. Got grounded fer a week after yer ma’ discovered ye’d made a shrine tae the god Bes in yer wardrobe and were prayin’ tae that every night instead. Yer decent at piano, but where ye really took a shine was in yer drawings. Seen some of the work ya tucked away in the pages of Garrick’s letters.” Johnny finally glanced up from his whittling at that mention, a glint of something in his eyes at your stunned expression. “‘Ave tae say, lass, ye can color me a might bit impressed.” 

He was starting to scare you with the knowledge he possessed, but not in a way that gave you any true fright. Quite the opposite in fact. The butterflies had never been quite so prevalent in your stomach.

“Yer inexperience twists ya tae be a bit unsure of yerself even when ye ‘ave the skills tae get by jus’ fine. It takes ye a minute, but when ye finally find yer voice Lord help the poor lad who finds himself swiftly charmed outta hearth and home. Got a dangerous pair o’ eyes and a honey sweet tongue, ye do.”

With every fact he spewed, it seemed like the entire point of this conversation for the past few minutes was to pick you apart thread by thread until you felt more bare than you had when you were sopping wet in a translucent nightgown for anyone's eyes to feast upon. 

“Ye convinced yet, hen?” The teasing glint in his eyes should’ve been outlawed.

“You sure know an awful lot about my life for someone who’s never been a part of it,” came your response, wrapping the blanket around your form tighter as if to ward off his deeper inspections into your world.

Johnny chuckled at that, pencil finally returning to paper as he went about with whatever it was prior that your presence had interrupted. “Cannae help it if talks o’ sweet lassies back home were a welcome distraction from moldy rations and the bitter chill on harsh winter nights. Blokes in the trenches fought fer the raunchy pinups back home and the honor o’ makin’ wives outta the young nurses who cared fer their wounds. But me and Garrick knew who we were fightin’ for.”

“Not even your own family?” You meant your words to be more ribbing, something to take the weight off your chest after all the focus being on you. 

But he didn’t reciprocate the tone.

“Nah, hen. Twas yer smile ah was protectin’ each time ah fired mah rifle.”

You thought he’d shocked you enough with his bluntness to last you a lifetime, but you couldn’t have been more wrong as he flipped through to the back of his book, pulling something out that had been wedged in the creases and flipping it to face towards you.

It was old and worn at the edges, smudges of dirt and water damage evident in the way it crinkled. But there was no mistaking the face staring back at you on the small grainy black and white pocket sized polaroid. 

You remembered when it was taken, the camera a recent purchase of Kyle’s on a holiday in Marsa Matrouh. You’d traveled there with your families on one of your cousin’s leaves, giving him something to help take his mind off of the horrors he’d witnessed and remember the peace he was fighting for.

You’d been out in the sun all day, basking on the rocks along the shoreline as the Mediterranean waters lapped at your heels. Your hair was still damp and stringy, coarse with salt as it shifted in the summer breeze. Kyle had been taking pictures all day, but this was the first time he’d pulled out his camera since you all went swimming, dressed in your newest swimwear all the way from New York with an exposed neckline and a mid-thigh length skirt. It had taken some adjustment on your part getting used to being so revealed, but after your mother ordered it from a magazine and you put it on for the first time you couldn’t help but feel lovely in the garment.

Kyle had caught you off guard when he snapped it, a wild carefree smile on your face as you turned to face him when he called your name. What the camera didn’t show was the ensuing chaos that took place immediately afterwards as you ran after him for having taken that without your consent, the pair of you sprinting along the shoreline in good fun until he suddenly halted to avoid stepping on a crab, causing you to run smack into him and bowling the two of you over with uncontained laughter.

You knew he’d developed the film before he left, but never what ended up happening to the snapshot. It could’ve been placed in a box in the attic for all you were aware. Who’d have thought you’d come across it almost ten years later in the ownership of someone like Johnny, tucked away in the pages of a book for safe keeping.

“That’s who ah was endeared to. The soft-hearted lass with more courage than she realized.”

Intense was the only way to describe him. 

There was a weight to his stare that bordered on indecent. You were mostly covered from view by the blanket draped over your form, but it wasn’t your gown he was undressing with his eyes. 

It was your soul - cracked open and exposed to feast upon like a vulture. 

Ravenous in his hunger, there wasn’t a meaty morsel that went untouched. Johnny’s eyes were the most expressive you’d had the pleasure to get lost inside, dark cerulean orbs that swept in like a rogue wave and dragged you helplessly beneath the surface gasping for air. It was his one weakness; his one tell. You could learn everything you needed to know about him if you were only capable enough to figure it out. It was an experience unlike anything you’d ever encountered - and, gods, it was just a look.

If this revelation about the picture had come about yesterday instead, you had no doubt you would have promptly demanded he return the precious item to your charge. Now, it only did things to your insides thinking of how many times your visage might have kept him company on lonely nights.

As he tucked the picture back inside his book and flipped to his previous pages, he turned the conversation towards something related but a welcome change of subject. “Speakin’ o’ honey, exactly how did ye get me outta jail, lass? Ye never did say.”

Oh god. Of all the topics he could’ve picked. Johnny really enjoyed seeing you squirm thinking about how ‘bad’ your behavior had been lately, didn't he?

”My father owned his own shipping company that dealt with the transport of goods and wares, ancient artifacts included. Or, at least, he did… up until his passing. It’s now run by one of his old business partners, but his name is still included in the title.” Thank god for that or else your plan would’ve never worked. “I convinced the prison warden that you were a treasure hunter of world renown and that I had been sent there with my colleague on behalf of the CEO to allow your release - in exchange for a handsome sum upfront that would be paid again once you’d retrieved a very precious ceremonial headdress that was stolen from one of the shipments earlier that week.”

He cocked a brow at your explanation, the gears turning as he followed along with your simplification of the encounter. “And he jus’ believed ya? Without proof nor payment?”

The smug look you gave him felt very satisfying indeed. “I told him I’d lost the official documents stating such when my purse had been stolen by a local street rat on our way there. Even included waterworks for added discomfort.” 

In your experience, men didn’t know what to do with a crying woman. Most just wanted to shut you up or make you go away as soon as possible.

Mother would’ve been proud of your acting skills. 

You could see Johnny putting the pieces together in his mind, even if he was skeptical at the loose threads you left hanging. “How did ya manage tae get yer hands on official lookin’ documents?”

Weirdly enough, that had been the easiest part of the whole ruse once you’d gotten the language right.

“I never cleared out my father's study after he passed. All the important papers he’d kept on his desk were removed, but the drawers are still full of blank pages of letterhead - as was his personal seal he used. So long as the warden doesn’t look too closely into the present day chain of command at the company, he’ll never have any reason to suspect he’s been made a fool of.” 

That earned a barked laugh that filled you with joy, his gaze tilted back to the sky as he shook his head at the heavens. “Fuckin’ hell, lass. Yer a right clever one, ye are. Why ye might jus’ be the most dangerous one ‘ere.”

“Wait a mo’.” He interrupted his own amusement once he realized you’d left out an important part of this whole operation. “Ye didnae take the funds fer mah freedom from the company too, did ye lass?”

There was a pregnant pause where you debated about lying, but you weren’t sure you could last under his careful scrutiny. “...I may have reached into my own coffers to front up the payments.” 

Six hundred pounds sterling. Well, technically thirty six thousand Egyptian would be more accurate since that’s what was agreed upon. But he didn’t need to know just how much his pardon had cost you. Granted at the time you weren't exactly thrilled to be forking over such a large amount for a ruffian, but you’d considered the investment and decided it was well worth parting with a few coins.

Johnny could have rivaled your father with how much he masterfully emulated that reproachful countenance that only someone who’d been half responsible for your existence could have managed. You’d been on the wrong end of that look enough times to know there was a lecture coming on you’d rather not have. “Hen–”

“Sooo, Mr. MacTavish,” you smoothly interrupted with a smile of perfectly faked innocence, “when you’re not incarcerated for bashing in the skulls of brigands and ne’er do wells, what have you been up to since leaving the service?”

He held your gaze for a few moments longer, immune to your batted eyelashes until he looked away with a huffed out sigh, relenting as he must’ve come to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth the oxygen.

“Ye weren’t too far from the truth when ye told the warden ah was a treasure hunter. Sometimes ah spend mah days scroungin’ through desolate areas in search of valuable commodities, others ah sell myself out fer hire doin’ mercenary work. Not the most excitin’ occupation dependin’ on the job, but it pays good coin.”

“Hard to believe you didn’t stick around with the military.” Kyle had mentioned that by the time he’d retired that Johnny still hadn’t, but that was years ago now.

“Well ah stayed with it far past mah initial recruitment contract. Only been out a wee bit longer than two years this October. Earned myself quite a bit o’ chest candy fer mah troubles.” Considering he’d joined up the same time Kyle did, that meant almost ten years fighting in His Majesty’s army. “In truth, ah didnae mind the bloodshed; ah was the best at what ah did and took pride in mah ability ta complete the missions too dangerous fer others tae endure. But when the people I was loyal tae stopped bein’ loyal ta me...”

The clench of his jaw, the ice in his veins bleeding into the blue of his eyes; you could only guess what happened to make a decorated war hero and career soldier jump ship.

Glancing down at his hand, you could see the way it white knuckled around the fragile pencil, almost anticipating a snap that you were surprised somehow never came. Even when he was blistering from whatever wrongdoings the bigwigs at the top had done to cause offense, he was still aware of and in control of his own strength.

“That’s how ah ken the city is real, lass.” He spoke up shortly after. “Because mah commandin’ officers sent me there tae die with the rest of mah squadron over pipe dreams o’ golden halls and buried treasure. But when we got there… all we found was sand and blood.”

There's a stillness as the words settle in your bones, a warning of events yet to come. But thankfully it doesn't last as he blinks away the shadows of bygone times, half turning around to fiddle with the bag he’d been using to rest his back against.

“That reminds me,” Johnny perks up as he rummages around in one of the pockets of his rucksack, his previous frosty disposition left in the past and giving you a case of emotional whiplash. 

“Found this,” you barely managed to catch the small object he sent flying your way, fumbling it before securing it in your grasp, “amongst my stuff. Garrick must've pinched it for ya before jumpin’ overboard.”

Your attention turned to the thing clasped in your hold, letting out a jubilant shriek of delight that rustled your cousin but who otherwise remained at rest. Turning it over in your hands, you couldn’t believe you were somehow reunited with the ancient metal box that you were sure you’d lost to the river. You practically sobbed in relief as you hugged it to your chest as if it were a beloved stuffed animal, completely ignoring the amused (slightly judgemental) regard coming from your travel companion.

“Now Dr. Price doesn’t have to carve out my entrails and feed them to the Nile!” You cheered with bright eyes and an elated smile, making quick work stuffing the box in with your other belongings. For a moment it appeared like Johnny was wanting to question just what exactly you meant by that proclamation, but thought better of it as he returned to his scribblings, merely shaking his head with something muttered under his breath.

“Best ye try tae get back ta sleep, hen. I ken we’re not doin’ much, but the desert has a way o’ sappin’ yer energy and ye’ll be comfier noddin’ off ‘ere than on the back of a camel.”

That you didn’t doubt, practically feeling the crick in your neck already at the image that conjured up.

“Alright, be that way.” You rolled your eyes with a teasing huff. ”I know a dismissal when I’ve heard one...”

Johnny gave you one more glance with a quirked lip at your cheekiness, something soft around the edges hidden within his sight. “G’night, hen...”

Giving him another smile, you situated yourself back on your sleeping mat so as to be laying on your right side facing the fire. The glow wasn’t too harsh on your eyes, and truthfully it also gave you the excuse to glance over at your companion every once in a while. You knew he had one ear open while he worked, keenly aware of his surroundings as he kept guard over your small group. If the previous night was anything to go by, he’d be waking up Kyle in a few hours to take over sentinel duty so that he could get some rest as well. 

Hearing the charcoal gently scrape across the parchment as he engrossed himself in whatever his project was, your eyelids grew heavy as you allowed the ambiance of his scribblings to lull you into the pleasant hum of unconsciousness.

The next morning brought with it a change of atmosphere within the group.

Where formerly you had only actively engaged with your cousin over breakfast, that was no longer the case, giving Johnny a small tentative smile as if you were still unsure that last night's interaction had properly smoothed out the wrinkles between the pair of you. Your fears were abated when he returned it enthusiastically, tossing you a wink for good measure that had you feeling giddy at the playful gesture.

Unaware of your previous heart to heart, Kyle glanced between the two of you in befuddlement to a question that went unanswered. You merely greeted your cousin with a peck on the cheek and a lasting hug you didn’t care to explain, remembering Johnny’s words only hours ago at just how much he’d been caring for you to a degree beyond what you’d ever realized.

Falling into step with Johnny felt just as innate as it was with Kyle, years of getting to know one another condensed into a single conversation. 

Admittedly it had thrown you off to hear him speak so candidly about your history the night before. It was odd listening to him recite the stories better than you remembered them, the unfiltered truth about your personality that you’d never suspected. But you ultimately ended up not minding his thorough knowledge of your life (god knows what else your cousin told him that he didn’t mention). If your youthful recollections granted him with any small measure of escape from the dark claustrophobic trenches day in and day out then you were honored it had been your picture that had provided him with a little comforting light.

Touching was something you were still adjusting to though; the small casual hand on your lower back as Johnny scooted around you to tend to the camels. A lot of that had to do with the fact that it only made it harder to tamper down the slightly inappropriate thoughts that began to spring up as of late. It was easier to be physically attracted to a man you disliked. There wasn’t any risk of actually falling for him because you knew in the end that he was too much of a prick for there to be any real connection. A handsome face was all he’d ever be and that had been reassuring.

Which made it a bit unfair that he’d ended up being a really. great. guy. 

Did he have a bit of a temper? Sure. But so far you’d only heard of it being directed towards people who deserved it. How could you be upset that he’d put a man in the hospital for trying to hurt an innocent woman? You didn’t gravitate towards violence, but you certainly were familiar with it when your cousin would come home with a disheveled appearance and bloody knuckles. 

Looks, charisma, hard working, intelligent, dedicated. They might as well have wrapped him in a bow and placed him on your doorstep on Christmas Eve. If you would’ve had any female companions to gossip with on this pilgrimage then one John MacTavish would have been the only topic of any interest.

Still, you did your best not to pay any heed to the swirling vortex of bad decisions clouding your brain. You weren’t some cheap harlot falling at the feet of any ol’ fella who was hungry enough to rake his eyes over you. This wasn’t a tropical vacation; this was work. Dangerous, harrowing work. And Johnny was both your guide and your cousin's best friend. Not to mention you were familiar with his type from hours being paraded in front of society's elite. 

You’d attended balls and soirees full of the opposite sex all hunting for a prize to bring home and breed to carry on their legacies. A few well placed compliments and they’d be racing you down the aisle of holy matrimony. 

Johnny was certainly just another heartbreaker through and through - a game you would not let yourself be swept up in no matter how tempting the reward.

It was easier to be distracted from your thoughts once you involved yourself in the discussions taking place amongst the group, far more interested in joining in now that your reservations had been proven false. It was all easy smiles and shared laughter as you slowly began to grow endeared to the Scot the more he carried on. 

You were delighted to discover he had two younger sisters and a large extended family that he was exceptionally close with. He didn’t speak of his siblings with complaint either, only true fondness as he recounted how much he’d looked after them as the protective older brother. Johnny’s smile turned melancholic as he confessed to how much he missed them, but it softened up when he brought up the extensive collection of postcards he was constantly sending back home. He couldn’t always receive letters when his life continuously had him on the go, but with that at least he could still feel connected to his family even if they were thousands of miles away.

Johnny happily regaled you with tales of his old life back in Scotland as a ‘wee lad’. Helping out around his grandfather’s farm during the summers. His favorite home cooked meals. The local ceilidh’s with lively music and lovely lasses. An incident with law enforcement he was sworn to secrecy on for another eight years.

Each new revelation had you drawn ever more into his orbit, interested in the minute details of his life as opposed to the grand schemes he’d fall into with Kyle. They might have been mundane in comparison, but in your opinion they were vastly more important. Anyone could be an adrenaline junkie with a death wish and ambitions, but who they were in the slower quieter parts of life was more telling of their true nature. 

Of course it wasn’t all just pleasant strolls down memory lane. One can always trust that boys will be boys after all. To break up the long stretches of conversation, the pair of them took to engaging in a friendly competition to see who had the worst jokes imaginable. Apparently this had become a favored pastime back in Verdun amongst the soldiers.

 Each attempt had you burying your face in your hands. If you didn’t want to have to go back and fetch it afterwards you would be throwing things at their heads by now. 

So it came as no surprise when at some point a crude joke was told by your cousin comparing a woman to a camel. Honestly you were more shocked it had taken this long.

“How can you tell the difference between a woman’s mouth and a camel’s?” The accompanying groan was actually not from you this time.

“Come now, Garrick. No desert puns. I thought we’d agreed that–”

“Only one of them swallows.”

Two dumbstruck heads immediately whipped in your direction, faces aghast as the illusion of chasteness melted away from their preconceived notions of their female companion. The shock was short lived however as the three of you fell into the most uncontrollable fit of laughter, howling and convulsing atop your mounts.

Kyle looked like he was trying to claw the mental image your words conjured up from his brain. “Bloody hell, dolly! I didn’t need to hear that from my cousin!”

“A lady indeed!” Came Johnny's reply, both of them struggling for air as you unexpectedly proved to them there was more to you than appearances would suggest. 

You caught Johnny’s gaze as you wiped the tears from your eyes, a glimmer of approval in those sparkling sapphires that threatened to take your breath away all over again. Above all you had been rewarded with his unbridled joy and infectious laughter.

It was a sound you were quickly falling in love with. 

Partway through the day, you had the unfortunate luck of finding yourselves headed towards a massive wall of brown in the distance, towering over the landscape like a rogue wave. One glance at your guide told you everything you needed to know in the stern set of his brows and hard neutral expression.

You were delving right into the heart of it.

You weren’t a stranger to sand storms, but you couldn’t say you had the pleasure of experiencing one out in an area that had no hope of shelter in which to ride it out. Your steed must have sensed the unease that gripped your emotions, starting to shuffle underneath you in distress that had a shocked gasp leave your mouth at the abruptness of his jostling. Kyle was quick to grasp your reins, making calm soothing sounds to the animal as you ran a hand along its neck with a soft ‘settle’.

When the words were finally spoken aloud that there was indeed no avoiding it, you pulled the dark piece of cloth out of one of your travel bags that the older Bedouin woman from the village had given you in case of such an event. Your hands made deft work of wrapping it around your head, securing it in the way you’d been shown to conceal most of your face. The other two did much the same, waiting for you all to finish getting settled before glancing over with a firm nod as you ushered the beasts forward towards the imposing storm in the distance.

You’d onced asked your father as you listened to one raging outside and rattling the shutters on your home just how strong he thought the winds were, wide eyed as he explained they could move as fast as a train could ride. You felt every bit of that power now.

As much as you mentally braced yourself for the experience, the physicality of the storm was quick to erode your steeled nerves. Gale force winds whipped and battered your body, your knuckles white and painful from where you gripped the pommel of the saddle to keep from falling off your steed. The miniscule grains of sand stung the small uncovered portion of your face, abrasive and irritating to the skin as you tried your best to shield your vision. 

It was as unpleasant as you predicted, trusting your camel to follow along after Johnny’s when it became too much to keep your eyes open. The beasts were more than capable of braving it, blazing through unencumbered by the shifting sands even if only at a slightly slower pace. Your care was in their charge now.

You hadn’t put much faith in the gods of old, but in that moment you found yourself praying to Seth that he would calm his fury and let his storm pass swiftly. Not like it could hurt if you were wrong…

You jerked in your saddle as partway through a firm hand grasped at the meat of your bicep, head flying up to see your cousin peering at you through his own face coverings as he pointed off to the side, barely able to make out something in the distance that he led your camel away towards. Johnny was already dismounting from his own, crowding behind what you realized was a grouping of sandstone pillars that you’d never been more grateful to see. 

Kyle helped you off your camel, Johnny already holding up a blanket and ushering you under as they each grasped an end, throwing it over the three of you huddled together and holding tight to keep it from being swept away into the desert. You all were winded from the exertion, Kyle mumbling something about needing a bloody break as you sat squished in between them, leaned back against the rock as you untensed. There was no way of telling how long the storm lasted or how far you’d trekked, but your limbs were sore and stiff from remaining clenched throughout the endeavor. 

Thankfully Johnny had better insight than you did, motioning at the waterskin he’d fetched ahead of time that you plucked off his person. Uncapping it, you didn’t think twice before bringing the opening to his lips, watching as he tilted his head back to allow the cool liquid inside to flow down his parched throat, doing the same to Kyle shortly after. You might not have been able to help hold down the fort so to speak, but you could certainly take care of them while they protected you. 

You didn't know how long you remained like that, sharing the waterskin between you three and ignoring the mildly darkened look in Johnny’s eyes every time you accidentally made eye contact while helping him drink, leaving your stomach feeling warmed. How a man could be so intense even in a situation such as this was beyond your understanding.

Nature finally took pity on you later on in the day nearing sunset, feeling the gusts lessen enough to at last push the covering off which had become weighed down by the sand that accumulated during that time. The camels looked just as unbothered as you left them, laying down nearby as you all finally got to stand at full height for the first time in what felt like ages. 

There was brief talk about what to do next as Johnny corrected your course, having veered only slightly off the intended path. The sandstorm had caused you to be vastly behind, adding an extra day onto your travels that you couldn’t afford to waste. Thankfully - as Kyle pointed out - your transport had been able to rest for quite some time and should be able to carry on through the night in an effort to reach the city sooner. You weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of having to sleep on the back of a camel tonight, but you weren’t going to argue over the sentiment when it made so much rational sense.

‘The life of an adventurer’, aye?

Whoever signed up for this life must’ve had a certain level of masochism ingrained in their psyche - you decided - in order to better deal with the curveballs and minor inconveniences that came from it. Food was eaten on the backs of your mounts that evening, an uncomfortable annoyance resulting in having nearly choked on your rations as the rocking motion of the camel had you swallowing wrong and sending you into a minor coughing fit. You took smaller bites after that, opting to have a little less than normal to balance out the risk of it happening again.

Sleeping was only a mildly better affair. You’d fallen asleep sitting upright in a high backed chair enough to know you’d be feeling it in the morning - especially considering there was nothing to support your figure as you bobbed along. Slipping in and out of a restless slumber, you were vaguely conscious of your surroundings; the gentle clomping of footfalls from the great beasts hauling you into the night, the even breaths of your companions, the soft whistle of wind throughout the valley.

At some point in your groggy state, you could've sworn your head ended up cradled by something firm yet comfortable underneath your cheek, the phantom sensation of thick fingers brushing over your strands relieving the tension in your bones. You went pliant under the calming ministrations, accompanied by gentle murmurings that you were unable to make out but sounded foreign to your ears.

You couldn’t tell if it was rooted in reality or simply a figment of the half dreamlike rest that overtook you at some point. All you knew was that waking up the next morning wasn’t as horrendous an ordeal as you’d anticipated, the joints in your neck much less creaky than if you’d have dozed off holding a book in your bedroom. 

The desert was still bathed in the cool tones of the blossoming morning when your cousin nudged you awake, a hand on your shoulder to steady you as you blinked your eyes open with a yawn. A small bundle of breakfast was already being placed into your hands before you could acknowledge it, along with instructions to eat up quickly as you were almost at your destination. 

That woke you up more than anything, practically shoveling the meager bits of food in your mouth much to the amusement of the others. You’d come all this way for this moment - enduring hardship and near death experiences - but it was all about to be worth it to be one of the first people to step foot into a long lost piece of ancient civilization in over three thousand years! 

What if it wasn’t everything you ever dreamed of? What if the image you’d conjured in your head didn’t live up to the expectations and grandeur promised of a city as important as Hamunaptra? Your insides were twisted, the sweat on your brow having nothing to do with the climate. Nerves were dialed up to a thousand as you busied yourself with readying for the last leg of your journey.

Come hell or high water: this was it.

It took maybe another fifteen minutes further ride west before you were led down into a wide valley, becoming more anxious with every step. You weren’t allowed the peace to smother your concerns, though, as who should appear on the opposite side of the dunes than those you had last seen on the other side of the Nile.

You finally got your first look at the man they called Graves, picking him out from the rest as someone you hadn’t noticed in the mess hall on the ferry and as the one currently leading their group. By all accounts he looked a simple man; a short neatly styled haircut, a light blue button up cuffed at the elbows, a faint scar slashed across his right cheek the only hint that he’d had a life that wasn’t quite so white collared.

“MacTavish, Garrick.” A thick Texan accent rolled off his tongue with all the charm of a rattlesnake. “Ma’am.”

You were used to fake niceties, but even this man had something slithering underneath the skin that rubbed you the wrong way.

“Seems like you folks all found your way here without any issue. Even went a little native by the looks of things.” There wasn’t anything thinly veiled in the slightest as he took in your appearance, squirming uncomfortably in your seat at the implied racism despite the company he himself kept. Then again, they were all hired hands. If ‘folk like him’ ran cheaper you were sure he’d be using them instead.

Kyle flashed him a sneer so vicious you were sure he was about to drop down off his mount and give that man one hell of a beating. It also didn’t escape your notice how Johnny brought his camel up a few paces, hiding you from view of the others with an obvious glower of contempt sent their way. You almost wished Graves would attempt something just so you could see what Johnny looked like when he was ‘re-learning manners’. 

But it seemed like neither of them thought it was worth the effort to respond to the instigated heckling. 

A large gap in the middle separated the two factions as you all lined up facing the east. Where your group had camels, they all had horses. You were briefly jealous of the fact, but realistically you had no complaints about your own steed as you reached down to give it an affection scratch on its head.

Moments passed with no movement from anyone.

“So we just gonna sit here like morons till the sun comes up or somethin’?” The question came from one of the Americans who’d played poker with Kyle back on the deck of the ferry. ‘Hutch’ if you recalled correctly. Certainly didn’t seem to have much in the way of patience, a sentiment echoed by his compatriot.

“Just settle down, pal.” Graves placated his teammate with a slightly raised hand. “I guarantee you it’s well worth the wait.” 

“Friendly reminder, gents.” It was the woman - Roze - who spoke up this time with a cocky grin. “Got a hundred bucks cash on the line. Lookin’ forward to having my pockets filled with English coin.”

Your cousin clearly hadn’t forgotten, patting his pockets in a ‘come and get it’ gesture that had the four cowboys chuckling in response.

“Get ready fer it.” Came the voice of your Scottish companion to the right, your eyes flicking between where his own were focused on the desolate landscape before you and his awaiting expression.

“For what?” you inquired.

“We’re ‘bout tae be shown the way.”

You ignored the mildly ominous undertone in Johnny’s words, turning your attention back to the view the same as the thirty or so of you gathered together.

Navy skies turned from amethyst to crimson and light sienna, the large golden sun rising up over the horizon as Ra began his day’s journey across the sky in his Mandjet Barque. Everyone on both sides sat in bated breath as it climbed ever higher, waiting for something that none of you outside your guides understood.

Scanning the flat lands to the northeast, you couldn’t possibly see how anything could be revealed when there were no shadows on the ground to hide something as large as that of a city. You had just begun to open your mouth to make some sort of comment implying the dubiousness surrounding this whole–

Wait.

…what?!

You blinked your eyes multiple times to be sure of what you were seeing, going beyond all reasonable explanation that your mind conjured up. Emerging like a ghost out in the valley, the shimmering visage of a once great realm slowly unveiled to the shock of those who bore witness. There it was - beyond all reasonable doubt. One could mistake it for a convincing mirage if it wasn’t for the way it solidified in front of you. If that wasn’t enough, you trusted your companion to have not steered you wrong. If Johnny didn’t think he was hallucinating then neither were you.

Heart pounding in your chest, blood rushing through your ears. You were positively breathless, only vaguely aware of Kyle to the left slapping at your arm in slack jawed stunned astonishment. It was comforting to know you weren’t the only one losing your mind at the moment.

All around you could hear everyone else's startled gasps, hushed voices speaking up in awe at the wonders held before their eyes. 

“There it is!” 

“I don’t believe it.”

“Well I’ll be...”

“The legends were true!”

“Hamunaptra.”

“‘Ere we go again.” The last comment came from Johnny, a weary sigh of resignation as he found himself once again in the presence of this place. 

It amazed you how much you found yourself not giving a damn about that, selfishly uncaring to his emotions right now as you were too busy trying to keep up with the influx of your own. All those times being mocked or looked down on for daring to believe in childlike wonderment that some legends were too real to be fake were finally proven wrong. There it was as plain as daylight, holding all the mysteries of the New Kingdom if you only reached out with your fingertips and touched it.

All it took was a single shout before all hell broke loose, the men’s thoughts turning from ones full of veneration to their jangling coin purses. It startled you out of your reverie. The calls and whipping noises from the fellows across the way urging their steeds forward had your own reacting instinctively, joined by Johnny and Kyle as you found yourselves racing across the vast stretch of desert - you to claim the site first, the men to win their wager.

The speed of the animal surprised you, having grown up seeing the creatures lumbering through the city hauling goods and occasionally people. But Cairo was full of tight corners and bustling streets. This was the Sahara - wide open and free from any obstacles that could keep it from achieving its full potential. Plenty of room for a camel to catch its stride.

You’d never endured a bumpier ride. 

What confused you the most was the fact that your own mount was apparently a cut above the rest, keeping pace with Johnny and Kyle as well as a small handful of horses on the other team. It breezed across the compacted sand, drawing whoops and hollers as you urged it forward. You’d put a horse at full gallop before, but this had an air of exhilaration that could only come with the heart racing promise of awaiting adventure.

Slowly but surely the others fell back from their positions until Grave’s was the only one of the rival group remaining as competition. It was clear his horse was quickly wearing out despite how brutally he whipped the creature's hide. Once he came to the same realization you did, he did the only thing a weak man knew how to do: resorting to cheap tricks.

You startled as suddenly he turned his beating cane on your own beast, making you lurch forward as the camel groaned in pain and tripped over its own legs. 

“Nothin’ personal, sweetheart!” He bellowed over at you as he took another swipe.

Unfortunately for him, both Johnny and Kyle were not about to allow his actions to go unpunished.

They took the opportunity when you steered your camel away in an effort to escape the beatings, coming up alongside his horse and boxing him in. Johnny grappled the reins from Graves’ hold, Kyle wrapping his blue neckerchief around Grave’s throat as he tried to fight off their combined hostilities. The pair shared a look as they both tugged on their objectives at the same time, Johnny yanking the horse right out from under him as Kyle choked him off the saddle, sacrificing his own place as he let you and Johnny speed off in his stead.

You dared a glance over at Johnny, the most wicked grin of devilish intentions on his face as he mirrored your excitement with his own, dropping the horse's reins and calling for more speed from his own animal. But you weren’t about to let him beat you that easily, not when you had every confidence in your own ability as a rider! 

It was just the two of you now - neck and neck battling it out for bragging rights. It didn’t matter at this point who won; you’d all come out victorious in the wager either way. This was just two individuals pushing each other to the limit, hearts pounding from more than just the thrill of the race as you both had trouble peeling your eyes away from the other. 

The wind in your hair; the untamed wilderness consuming your spirit. This was what you’d been missing in your life - this thing that a dangerous man like Johnny could offer you.

You weren’t prepared as he reached across the space between and landed a heavy handed slap right to the back of your mount, the beast crying out as it surged forward at an unprecedented pace. You could only hold on tight, shrieking in a mixture of surprise and elation, hearing your cousin in the distance cheering you on as you approached the looming structure.

There were no words as you made it to your destination, coasting past the massive stone obelisks at the mouth of the entrance with the biggest smile, galloping down the thoroughfare and between the crumbled ruined gates of the city.

Finally, had you arrived. The lost sacred City of the Dead.

Hamunaptra.

<< ✿ Previous ✿ << ✽ >> ✿ Next ✿ >>

[hivefleet-hellbender]

Out in the desert, no one can find you... (Hex Tiles 1)

A sharp wind whistles through the desert dunes, bringing no reprieve to the travelers following the thin paths left out in the sand. Don't drink from the river — the plants that grow along its shores contain toxins that could leave a grown man coughing up blood, and chemical spills float through the current. A faraway road carries the rare drone-tank, long abandoned from any sort of human use.

My newest hobby, to distract myself on months when the purse is a bit too tight to be buying plastic crack from Games Workshop, is to build modular hex tiles! It's super easy — I pick up a hundred of these wooden MDF tiles from Amazon for $10 (they're advertised as 2", but they're 1.75" from tip to tip, and each side is 1"), grab any spare craft supplies I have lying around, and get to work! They're super quick (this first batch of one hundred took me around a week) and they open the door to a lot of cool experimentation. A lot of this is inspired by the work of u/Marcus_Machiavelli over on Reddit, who makes these fantastic modular hive city components that I hope to someday be able to emulate. 

I'm making these for two purposes, neither of which I've put in practice yet but I'm hoping to get to do at some point. They're for:

Any mass-battle games played at 6mm. This could also work for Adeptus Titanicus or the upcoming Epic reboot that Games Workshop is working on. 

Tactical TTRPGs like Lancer that are played with large beings, who can operate on a 6mm scale.

Once I get some games in with them, I'm sure I'll encounter future problems and reassess how I approach them. But for now, this is what I've got!

I Hate Sand

The first set of tiles I made, to serve as the backdrop for the rest of them, are these sand tiles. I chose to make this a desert (and thus make a bunch of sand tiles) because I already had some sand lying around, and because it's really cheap and easy to work with. Be careful though! Anakin was right; sand sucks. Try and pick up a finer grain than what I went with, apply the sand in a more-controlled location than I did, and secure it better than I did too. But here's how I did them:

Coat the surface of the hex with a mix of PVA glue and water.

Sprinkle on a light dusting of gravel or small rocks.

Apply a thick coat of sand on top of the gravel.

Knock off excess sand and recycle it for next time.

Spray with 1-2 layers of varnish. (I would recommend a sealant instead, but I didn't have any at the time)

For the ones with little paths on them, I painted the path on with White before applying the gravel or sand, and it shows through well enough! The paths are unnecessary — they're a fun experiment, but I don't think I'll be making more of them in the future.

The Gurgling Creek

Making the river tiles was a bit more involved, but still pretty easy. The method I came up with I think looks a lot better than just painting on water, and is a lot easier to work with than resin or water effects. 

Use some kind of texture gel to build up the riverbanks, trying to have them end around 1/4" on the sides of the tiles where you want your river to connect.

Paint a strip Black where you want the river to flow, running from one edge to another.

Apply sand as before, everywhere except where you painted the black. (If you're worried about fucking this up, you can swap the order)

Varnish (or use sealant) as before. 

Take some gloss mod podge and mix it with a light blue paint, and apply in large goopy quantities everywhere you want water to be. Leave overnight to dry. (If you want the river to be less cloudy, apply many thin coats of mod podge instead, letting each layer dry before applying the next)

As an extra, stipple green along the edges of the water and use a dark green wash to create patches of vegetation.

The river pieces are my favorites, and I'm the most proud of them. The tiny bridge was a thin strip of balsa wood, painted white and then washed black. It turned out fine.

I did a solid mix of straight river pieces and curving river pieces. If I was going to do it again I'd make more curving pieces than straight river pieces, because the curving ones make more sense for how rivers work.

The Road To Nowhere

These road tiles turned out really well, perfect for a run-down highway in the middle of nowhere. Here's how I made them:

Take a piece of corkboard and cut it down to be 1.75" long and 1" wide.

Glue it on a hex with the two edges of the corkboard touching two sides of the hex.

Go at the edges with a knife, making it all worn down and busted up.

In some of these spots, I fucked up and glued the corkboard on wrong. To fix that, break off a chunk and reposition it so it'll connect correctly. This will look like a big fat crack in the middle of the road, which is perfect.

Coat in a layer of mod podge or PVA glue. Leave to dry.

Once dry, paint the cork entirely Gray.

Drybrush White onto the corkboard, focusing on the edges and exposed spots.

Paint two thin yellow lines along the middle of the road. (These are optional, but they do a lot to make the 6mm scale convincing)

Apply sand, as before, onto the ground and up the sides of the road, so it looks like the road is emerging from the sand. Maybe apply some sand in a couple spots in the cracks to make it look like the sand has gotten in there.

Varnish and/or sealant, as before.

Apply a Black wash to the road. (There's a lot of tricks here! If you want the yellow stripes to be more vibrant, you can only paint them on after the first black wash. You can also target spots of sand on the road to make it look like it's asphalt runoff, soaking black into the cracks.)

Apply a second Black wash to the road. 

The bridge was a bit more complicated, and took some finicky positioning and a trip to Kung-Fu Tea.

Take a boba tea straw and cut it into 1" segments, then cut them in half, gluing them to the middle of the hex as culverts.

Take corkboard and glue it over the culverts, bending it so it meets the two edges you want the bridge to run along. If it breaks, that's okay — this is a crumbling, middle-of-nowhere bridge.

Use texture gel and spare corkboard to fill in the gaps.

Use texture gel to define the steep edges of the river. Apply a little bit in between the culverts.

Do all the road steps to the road part of the bridge, and all the river steps to the river part of the bridge.

I'm exceedingly proud of the bridge hex. It turned out perfectly, and feels very emblematic of what I want this project to be like.

Why You, Too, Should Make 6mm Terrain

6mm terrain is amazing to make. Mistakes look like part of the landscape or the brain smudges them over due to the small size, and small changes look like fascinating little details. It really opens the imaginative space and I absolutely adore working at this scale. Plus I'm developing a ton of experience with various materials I've never worked with before, so I get to enjoy the triumph of carving foam or corkboard. It rules! I might even try to make a 28mm bridge after the success I had making a 6mm one.

My future plans for this project include cliffs, craters, 3D-printed shantytowns, and overpasses. But all that is for a later date — for now I'm gonna rest on my laurels, and spend the rest of the evening reconfiguring various tile combinations and cackling like a mad scientist.

[shiningfremi]

hi! was wondering if i could req hurt to comfort - where freminet gets injured badly and reader gets so worried that they stay by his bedside waiting for him to wake up :(?

— same anon that req fremi cuddles (can i be 🧤anon?)

freminet gets injured [hurt to comfort]

[ freminet x gn!reader, modern au ]

!! CW: descriptive injury, mention of blood !!

aww this is so endearing 🧤 anon!! :*( i love this request sm,, and i'm proud of how this turned out! enjoy~

wc: 2.8k

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you were on a picnic date with freminet on the rocky cliffside, nothing could beat the wonderful view. you two were now enjoying desert, which consisted of delicious, spongy strawberry cake, your favorite muffins, and some berry red fruit punch.

freminet was telling you all about his favorite fairy tales and myths, since you wanted to hear so much about what he liked to read. more impressively, he could tell you the entire plot, getting into the nuance of it all. you admired how his eyes lit up as he described the stories. you could listen to his voice all day, it was soothing and a bit deeper than usual as he was completely relaxed.

“and then, the two little birds had gone to follow the wind, unaware of where they would go, or what they believed in.” 

“wait, that's how it ends?” your mouth was agape. “no way! i need to know what happened to them,” you huff. 

“that's right, the author wanted to leave it up for interpretation,” freminet sighed. 

the wind began picking up, the checkered blanket underneath you two threatening to lift up. freminet held out his arms, flattening it down.

“whew!” you held onto the hat you were wearing. “it's getting windy up here, isn't it?”

all that was left were the finished paper plates with crumbs scattered about, and the near empty juice bottles.

“indeed it is..” he hummed. “how about we clean up, then stay for the sunset?”

“that sounds amazing. let's do it!” you shine him a bright smile. the sky always looked gorgeous from the cliffside.

after you both finish packing up and loading it into the trunk of freminet's car, you eagerly take his hand in yours to check out the breathtaking sights, as the sun was already beginning to dip down, and a golden orange gleamed down on the thrashing ocean below, making it sparkle from every angle.

“alright alright, i'm coming~” he softly chuckled as you dragged him along.

once you got close enough to the edge, you gaze out into the waters, your expression full of awe. “wow..”

freminet remained silent, simply holding onto your arm, his cheeks a slight rosy pink.

the scene looked as if it were a painting that was being crafted right before your eyes.

you just had to snap a picture, so you reach into your pocket, before pulling out your wallet instead.

with a confused gaze, you think back to where you saw your device last.

“woops! i think my phone is in the car-” 

suddenly, a strong gust whipped through and you lost your hold on your wallet. with a startled gasp, you reached out but it was no use, it was already flying off the edge.

separating from freminet, you hurried to get closer, then sadly peer down. 

your wallet was plunging into the depths below.

“oh no.. my wallet..!” you panicked. you had a great deal of cash in there, your driver's license, your id card.. what were you going to do? you glanced at him, full of anxiety.

“it's okay y/n, i can go in and get it! there's a trail that leads down to the beach,” he pointed in the opposite direction.

“are you sure fremi? the waves seem harsh right now.” 

“w-well, i've actually gone swimming here before in similar conditions, so i can do it,” he assured you. “cmon!”

with a hint of reluctance, you nod, remembering all of the important things in there that could be lost to the sea. 

freminet was a professional, and the wallet didn't stray far at all yet.

“alright!” you followed after him down the narrow pathway, small pebbles clanking down as both of you try to get to the shore as quickly as you could.

once you were finally there, freminet took off his sandals and his jeans, revealing black swimming shorts from when he went surfing earlier that day. and yes, he could surf just as well as he could dive~

“i can see it. this will be quick, i promise.” he grinned back at you, determined to put his talents to use to retrieve it for you.

he seemed sure of himself, so you stood back as he waded into the water, and then his agile body climbed the huge stones that jutted out, gradually inching closer to your wallet. it was lodged in between two smaller stones. he then snatched it out of the water before a wave could take it away.

“here it is, y/n!” he called out to you, waving it in the air.

“yay! thank you!!” you cheerfully shout back.

he looks so cool right now~

but...

that's when it happened.

freminet's back was turned, and he was getting up onto the rock to come back the way he came. as he was lifting his leg, an enormous wave was closing in behind him, bigger than what you've ever seen that evening.

where did that..? no, no! it's not safe! he needs to-

“wait!” 

you yell out a warning once you realize what was going to happen, but it was far too late. a horrible crashing noise filled the air, and your eyebrows twisted in horror as he disappeared into the salty mist.

the water was unforgiving, it carried him away from the stones - slamming him into the side of the escarpment. he had no time to react, and his head banged against the rock face. freminet's ears rang, a high-pitched sound roaring into his skull, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“freminet!” you scream, your voice shrill with terror. you automatically jump into the water, legs staggering in the sand, moving with haste. 

you climbed onto the stones with a grunt, and frantically observed the area until his unconscious frame came into your focus. your heart felt like it had dropped all the way down to your feet. your eyes welled up with tears, and that's when you broke out in an uncontrollable sob.

“f-freminet..!” you wail, your voice shaking. 

you lunge forward, and lock your arms around him, trying to haul the boy out of the sea as quickly as possible. warm, fresh blood was streaming out of a deep gash on the side of his head, flowing down to his shoulder and coating your hand. you stare at the wound in shock, and keep pulling him out until you reach the safety of the shore.

.

.

.

it was a couple of hours after freminet's incident, and he was now in a bed, all bandaged up, but yet to wake up. after you got him out of the water, you never ran so fast in your life, bolting up the hill to the car and getting your phone out, then frantically dialing the police and running back down as the phone rang. he was then taken away by the ambulance, which you quickly followed behind, and now you were here in the hospital room with him, refusing to leave his side. 

the doctor had informed you that his condition would improve, as the hit wasn't fatal. 

she stated that it was a mild traumatic brain injury - or more commonly known as a concussion. 

so, he had a nice chance of waking up in the next couple hours or so. when he does, they’ll have to do more examinations. but for now, it’s a waiting game.

the wave of relief that had flooded through you was too great to describe, but you felt so terribly guilty. if you hadn’t dropped your wallet, none of this would have happened. or… you should’ve stopped him, because you knew something was off.

you were hunched over, kneeling at the bedside, whilst nurses checked in on him periodically.

your head was down, and you were clutching on his hand, with a mind that was racing with prayers. 

“please wake up freminet.. please.”

it seemed like forever, until…

“y-y/n..? is that you?” freminet slowly awoke, blinking the drowsiness away, and instinctively lifted his head before he winced with pain as his head throbbed. it felt as if something was pounding on his brain, over and over again…

“you’re awake!” you quietly gasp, perking up. “lay down, lay down…” you gently usher him, hating to see him struggle.

his eyes darted around the small room, trying to take in his surroundings.

“do you remember what happened?” you ask, with worry clouding your gaze. 

he knew your name, which gave you some amount of solace.

“the last thing that i f-felt was a slamming sensation. and i let go of your wallet…” he fidgeted with his fingers, dejected. he opened his mouth again, but the only words he could utter were,

“i’m sorry.” his tone was as soft as could be, but he sounded so shameful.

“no, this is anything but your fault! i should’ve stopped you,” you jump to tell him, tears threatening to build up again. “nothing else matters right now. i could always replace my belongings, but i could never replace you.”

“in the end, i was the one who decided to go in..”

you choke back your feelings, trying not to add any more distress than what he was already feeling. you wanted to be calm, not only for your his sake, but your own.

freminet was quiet, and his face felt like it was on fire. how could he burden you like this?

the fact that the very place that he’s known by heart for the majority of his life, the ocean… was the culprit for hurting him. he thought that it would never happen, could never happen, since he knew the ins and outs of every situation. 

and for that, freminet felt utterly crestfallen. 

when he caught your gaze, he wanted to wail and hide far, far away.

“i’m sorry!” he said for the second time, voice breaking as he held back all of his emotion. he felt completely helpless right now, and that was the last thing he wanted to be. 

“please stop that…” you realize that guilt wouldn’t do either of you any good, and so you let out a long sigh, taking both his hands in yours.

“neither of us knew what was going to happen. nobody could have predicted that a giant wave would come out of nowhere like that.” you attempt to comfort him, gently rubbing his knuckle with your thumb.

“i- i just…” freminet was still distant.

a knock could be heard.

“how are we doing in here?” a nurse came in, softly shutting the door behind her. her voice was comforting. 

“we’re going to run some tests on you to gauge your condition, alright freminet?” she gave him a gentle smile.

after his memory exams were conducted, everything came out well. but he told both the nurse and doctor that his headache was only getting worse, and that he was feeling pretty weak. they assured him that it was completely normal given the trauma inflicted, and so he was given medication to help ease the symptoms.

“where you’re at right now, it would be okay for you to head home. but we highly recommend an overnight stay so you can leave in the morning. not only for your health aspect, but for convenience as well.” the woman was writing words down on her clipboard and checking boxes off.

“it is completely up to you, love. absolutely no rush.” you turn to him, squeezing his hands.

“i would love to be back home, believe me, but right now.. i don’t think i have the energy to stand.”

“alright.. no problem, we'll keep monitoring you then.” the kind nurse handed the clipboard to freminet for his signature, and reminded you both to take it easy before leaving the room. she also made sure to mention that she would be available with a simple press of the help button and would be checking in every hour or so. you thank her for everything she's done so far, and she nodded back, glad that it all turned out fine.

“are you.. going to stay in here with me?”

“of course i am.” you promise him. “i'm not going anywhere.”

“okay.” he tried to get into a more comfortable position to get some more rest, but he just couldn't.

“i want to go back to asleep…” freminet sighed. “i'm exhausted, but my eyes are refusing to close.”

“is your head still bothering you?”

“mhm.. i guess so.” he was turned the opposite direction from you now, just staring at the wall.

“ah, okay. should we ask for something that will help you fall sleep quicker?” you suggest.

no response.

“fremi?” you whisper.

just then, you could hear sniffling and small sobs coming from him, and you stayed completely still. you never heard him cry before. he was really good at regulating his emotions, and never cried in front of anyone. but freminet deserved to let it out, that's for sure. your eyebrows were knitted, a deep pang of melancholy engulfing your expression.

poor freminet..

“what a terrible way to conclude our date..” he murmured, it was difficult for him to face you like this, heck, it was hard enough having you witness everything unfold right then and there.

you didn't think that the image of him getting swept away and hitting the rock would ever leave your mind - the way your hair on the back of your neck stood up on end, how your reactions felt so overwhelmingly delayed.

those couple hours of uncertainty were the worst of all. speeding through traffic for him as your nails dug into the steering wheel, whilst every possibility in your head whirred..

how serious would it be? why did this have to happen? if only i was faster..

..what if the worst case scenario comes true?

“trust me, that is the last thing i'm worried about. you're awake, you're talking to me.. and you'll be able to get out of here tomorrow. i'm beyond grateful.” you stayed seated right behind his back, knowing that if you saw his tears streaming down, you wouldn’t be able to take it..

“y/n..” he bawled, covering his eyes with one shaky hand.

“it's okay, everything will be okay.” you soothe, though hearing him cry when he's the calmest person you know was breaking you.

“i.. oh, goodness, i-i’m just a mess right now...” he took a ragged breath in. “and the trouble i've caused you-”

“shh, my darling..” you caressed him, the same as he always did for you whenever you were at your lowest. your fingers danced along the shell of his ear, brushing through his short blonde locks, paying great attention as to not disturb the bandage wraps.

freminet began to calm down, and he slowly released his hand away from his face, relaxing upon feeling your touch.

“i don't know what i would be without you..” he confessed. “i’ve never, uhm,’ he didn't finish his sentence, but you nodded, which signified a mutual understanding.

“i've asked myself the same exact thing.”

you look down at him, and he turns to meet your gaze at last, his under eyes red and puffy. you were sure that your signs of crying from earlier were also visible.

“..are you feeling hungry? thirsty? there's plenty of water for you on the counter, but i can get you anything you want. anything,” you say to him, hoping that it would help to get his mind off the situation.

“anything?” he blinked.

“always.” a smile tugged on your cheeks.

“hmm..” freminet thought for a moment.

“i would like a hug. i think that's all i need at the moment.” there was the shine in his eyes that you came to know and love.

you pause for a moment, feeling warm inside. even though he must be in a good amount of pain, he just wanted a hug..!

“one hug, coming right up!” your heart fluttered.

freminet steadily got himself into a sitting position, nodding to let you know that he was alright. and that's when you promptly took a seat on his bed and slowly wrapped your arms around him, still making sure that you weren't hurting him any further.

you were finally feeling at peace. you’ve never been so scared before.

“i love you, oh god, i love you so much..” you took in his familiar scent, ever so thankful that he didn’t suffer a serious injury from the hit. you were reminded how unpredictable life can be, and that you could never take him for granted, not even for one second.

“i love you too. more than you could ever know.” he was quick to reply, closing his eyes as you held him.

a few moments pass you by before freminet’s soft voice spoke again, his grasp on you tightening. you could hear the serenade of his heartbeat as you two were now close enough for your chests to be touching.

“my interpretation for the tale i told you about..” he nuzzled into you, feeling safe and comforted. “it was that the two little birds found something in the drift of wind, and it was their love for one another. that was the missing piece that they needed to honor. the breeze had tested them.. tested them to stay strong.”

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[purity-town]

Ask responses below the cut! Digging into Andrew/Alalia's immortality, the doll, and the design of the town/region it's in.

Yeah!! (To both questions!)

Although the blog header image is a screenshot from one of my playthroughs, it’s just a random one that I thought would fit nice enough -- I haven’t actually built out any of the comic’s locations in-game. I can share a couple of rough thoughts I’ve had how it would look, though!

As far as Purity Town itself goes:

Purity Town is located in the forest/purity biome and has the background of the lake and snowy mountains.

The Tavernkeep, Merchant, Nurse, and Clothier have shops in the main part of town.

This center area is paved in stone (think Pelican Town from Stardew Valley) and has a slightly raised area (think like a fountain design) for the forest pylon.

Andrew lives out on the edge of town more in the woods, and a little ways past his home is a fenced overlook that looks down on everything.

The Zoologist also lives slightly outside of town with the Golfer, but in the opposite direction.

All of Purity Town is built in soft, rolling forested mountains/hills.

Most of the buildings are constructed from wood and brick, but with the exception of the tavern are painted different colors.

Since I’m on the subject -- as far as the general locations go, Purity Town itself is the largest settlement, but there are several other, smaller villages linked to it through the pylon network. NPCs generally live in their favored biome when applicable, with the exception of some of the hallow/cavern biome enjoyers living in Purity Town proper instead.

The snow biome village is located up in the snowy mountains visible from Purity Town, and an unnamed village is located by the sea.

The desert village is built around an oasis.

The jungle village is built around platforms elevated just above shallow pools of water. The area is surrounded by dense foliage from mahogany trees.

There’re currently no cavern or glowing mushroom villages/pylons.

Andrew is fully, 100% aware of the existence of the doll, and is roughly familiar with its limitations. He was present for its making, and though it’s since been lost to him, he has a general idea of what happened to it (being a powerful item that fell into the hands of a demon).

He’s not particularly happy about it, nor is he really in a position to try and get it back, but it’s been a number of years since the doll’s creation and he’s learned to live with it. At least the doll’s existence means Chris will be able to use it as a proxy, rather than Andrew having to be there in person; it provides a little mental separation for both of them.

For Alalia, she came into existence years before the Moon Lord first appeared, when the world was more wild and dangerous than the modern day. So I don’t think it’s out of the question that she died a couple times from assorted beasts and the likes, particularly while she was new and inexperienced. While a violent death is never fun, being a creation/aspect of Terraria likely made her resurrection experience itself less unpleasant than it otherwise would be, and upon being revived she was a bit shaken up but otherwise unharmed. She would have had other Dryads to comfort her, which helped -- they’re functionally immortal beings, and through their long lives most would have died and been revived at least a few times.

And then the Moon Lord appeared, and suddenly when they died, they didn’t come back. The world is different now, and no new Dryads have manifested since, though Terraria has recovered to a point where she can revive Alalia when necessary.

Andrew’s first death was accidental -- he didn’t know the ins and outs of how his whole “thing” worked, nor did he really understand how important he was that he’d be resurrected where few/no others were. I’m not totally sure when his first death would have been, but probably relatively early in his life -- his mother/mentor still being alive at that point, and him still living in his home village. Him still either assuming he’s entirely mortal, or slowly beginning to suspect unnatural longevity.

Resurrection is unpleasant at minimum, a natural consequence of one’s entire self being pulled back into the living world -- depending on the circumstances, the experience of being revived can be worse than dying proper. Though from an outside perspective, the affected simply appears and reawakens in their home some time after death.

I imagine Andrew didn’t even register what had happened at first; I don’t have any specific ideas for what killed him the first time, but upon waking up he very well could have dismissed everything as fever dreams associated with a near death experience. Assuming that someone had saved his life, only to learn he had truly, actually died. And then having to process all of the implications of that, and his own trauma, and deal with his family, etc…

Andrew has never been outright blasé towards his own deaths, and tries to avoid it where possible; outside of the obvious inconvenience/discomfort, he’s still a human (more or less) and isn’t above basic instinct. But he knows now that he’ll be resurrected, and in the case where it does come up, he brushes it off publicly as a consequence of him being a Guide. And when push comes to shove, he'd rather he be killed and resurrected if that can prevent someone who is mortal from dying in his place.

[housethemd]

Inlet

(House/Wilson, pre-relationship, loosely set in S2. This will be cross posted to my AO3, where I am WhiskeyRose1)

There are very few physical activities House can still do. After the infarction they had to trade golf weekends for movie marathons, tennis night for bowling night, and lunch break runs for a seat in the cafeteria.

Except for one Tuesday every month. On the third Tuesday of the month the local YMCA pool has a free swim from 2-3:30pm. Lord only knows why, because by that time the housewives and their toddlers have left for nap time, it’s too late in the afternoon for the usual lunch break crowd, and the after school rush hasn’t started yet. It means that the pool is practically deserted.

That’s how Wilson talked House into going. Never mind the plethora of benefits that being in water has for House. While he would never say it, Wilson knows that floating in the tepid water eases the ache in his ruined thigh as well as the aches he never talks about. His hips, his back, his shoulder, all take additional strain due to his disability and the weightlessness of the pool eases the pressure.

They have the changing room to themselves, and they strip down in front of one another with the ease that over a decade of friendship brings. Wilson’s swimsuit is a simple pair of black swim shorts, while House’s are neon yellow with black flames up the legs. House’s are also board shorts, instead of falling just below mid-thigh like Wilson’s, House’s bathing suit touches his knees.

Wilson remembers going to the beach together in the early days of their friendship. House always wore these bright red, 6 inch inseam trunks. They came well above mid-thigh, showing off his muscular legs. Back then House was incredibly physically active and his years of lacrosse, rowing, cheerleading, and running showed on his physique. Wilson was no slump physically, but the looks he got were nothing compared to the number of heads House turned - female and male alike.

They hose off in the provided showers, getting themselves nice and wet before entering the pool area. Wilson watches the water sluice down House’s bare chest and wishes he could make House see how attractive he still is. Sure his body is more lithe than it used to be, but he’s still well put together with broad shoulders giving way to a slim waist and narrow hips. He’s no less attractive at 46 than he was at 33 when they met. House wears his age well. The salt and pepper of his hair distinguishes him, his scruffy look giving him a care free air, and of course he still has those huge bright blue eyes that threaten to steal your soul if you stare into them for too long.

Once they are sufficiently soaked Wilson offers his arm to House. He takes it, let’s Wilson take some of his weight as they make the slow walk from the men’s change room to the pool. The floors are wet and slick and even though House’s blue water shoes give him a little traction they still take their time, lest either of them slip. He still can’t quite believe he talked House into wearing the water shoes. House had balked against them when Wilson first bought them for him after their first pool trip, citing that only old people and toddlers wore water shoes at a pool. After some very blunt words about how like it or not House was a fall risk due to uneven balance, he’d slipped them on wordlessly the next month.

They walk until they are at the edge of the deep end. House finds it easier to walk poolside until they hit the deep end, then slide off the edge into the water, as opposed to trying to walk through the shallower water until it’s deep enough for swimming. Wilson supports House as he lowers himself to sit at the edge, feet dangling into the water.

Wilson retrieves a pool noodle from the bin near the lifeguard station and tosses it in the water before diving in himself.

When he surfaces he shakes the water from his face and hair like a dog, making House laugh from where he is still perched on the edge. Wilson always expects more of a shock when he hits the water, but the pool is kept at a comfortable 85 degrees. Once he’s stopped laughing House pushes himself off the ledge and into the water, momentarily disappearing beneath its surface. When he bobs back up Wilson passes him the pool noodle. House slides it underneath his waist and lays back. House is heavy enough that his body still sinks beneath the water but provides enough buoyancy that he can float without having to move his limbs to much.

Wilson swims laps for a while, as House floats leisurely. Wilson pauses periodically to observe him. His eyes are closed as he lets the ripples of water push him around. Every few minutes he checks his surroundings and if he is nearing a wall or the shallow end he’ll kick his good leg and use his arms to gain enough momentum to float in a different direction.

When Wilson is satisfied with the number of laps he’s done he’ll climb out to grab his own pool noodle and he and House will float side by side. They talk about nothing in the way only old friends can. House says something rude and Wilson splashes him in the face. This evolves into more and more aggressive splashing until the lifeguard has to tell them to settle down. Wilson looks appropriately chastised but House just smirks.

Nearing the end of their extended lunch break, they make their way out of the pool. House stands on his good leg on the ladder out of the pool and uses his arms to push himself back onto the tile floor outside. Wilson scurries out after him to help him stand. They make their way back into the change room and go through the same motions as when they arrived but in reverse.

When they make their way back out to Wilson’s Volvo, both with hair still damp, Wilson can’t help but notice how House moves a little easier. He always does after an hour in the pool. Wilson wishes he could get House to do this more regularly. The university campus has a gym with a pool, and faculty gets in for free. There is no reason why House couldn’t be swimming a few times a week, but Wilson knows being seen by his peers needing support is what keeps him from going.

So Wilson will keep bringing him to the deserted free swim at the YMCA, where he can lean on Wilson’s arm and wear his water shoes without fear of his colleagues losing respect for him.

[rea-grimm]

Dragon Island - dragon Luffy

You wanted to find the mythical dragon island, where the wreck of a ship carrying treasure seized from pirates was supposed to be located, and which was wrecked on an island inhabited by a dragon.

You had no idea what the truth was, but you knew that you would find the treasure and defeat the dragon. That was your dream and what made you go to sea.

After many failed attempts, you finally managed to find dragon island. On the way to it, a giant storm appeared and your ship sank.

The sea washed you ashore and you were at all grateful to have survived. You couldn't say that about your crew, though, because even though you were looking for them, they weren't to be found. 

After a few days when you set up camp on the edge of the jungle not far from where the sea washed you off and where you unsuccessfully looked after your crew, you decided to explore the island itself.

As you explored the island, you got the impression that it was deserted. You slowly made your way to the rocks and after almost a whole day you reached the other half of the island.

On the way, you came across a source of drinking water and ate your dinner. You set up camp in a small cave on the other side of the island, which was an excellent view.

You were roasting meat and watching the sunset when you realized you weren't alone. You had the impression that something was following you and your assumption was only confirmed by growls coming from the bowels of the cave. A sound that begins in the throat of the beast and ends with the teeth in the throat of its victim. You had your hand on your sword, which was still a bit sharp. However, no danger appeared during the whole night.

The next day, you decided to explore the cave more closely and find out what predator was hiding in it. The cave led you to an open bay where a shipwreck stood on the rocks. You had the impression that you had finally found what you were looking for.

You walked around the ship and on the other side you came across a surprise. On the ground lay a long dragon with red scales in such a strange position that you hesitated if he was at all alive. 

He was lying almost on his head, his torso was leaning against the hull of the ship and his legs falling behind his head. The dragon didn't move at all, and it wasn't even visible that it was breathing.

You carefully walked around him and entered through the hole in the ship's hull. Inside was an amount of gold and gems that you never imagined.

You left the treasure there for the time being, as it was of no use to you so far. Maybe when you manage to find or make a ship you'll come back for it, but now you've decided to go back to camp. 

You walked past the place where the dragon was originally and you were taken aback when you found that there was no sign of it. You looked around and your hand landed on your sword. The whole way you were worried about bumping into him somewhere.

The day flew by without any surprises. You made a new camp in a completely different cave, which was much smaller and led nowhere. You managed to catch a bigger animal and roasted part of it on the fire. You left the rest deeper in the cave, where it was colder.

You sat facing out of the cave and looked for a potential threat. Your cave was on higher ground, but it was still an open area.

You were slowly falling asleep when you heard something outside. You immediately reached for your sword. However, before you could properly react, a long, squat creature came from outside like a bolt from the blue, jumped up at you and pinned you to the ground. The sword fell from your hand. 

The red dragon bent over you, snarling, drool dripping down your face from its mouth. He was so close that you even noticed the small scar that ran under his left eye. The dragon leaned closer to you and growled. You watched the dragon and awaited your end.

Instead, the dragon snorted and raised its head. He stopped growling and licked himself hungrily. He jumped off of you and took the meat from the fire and bit into it. He immediately released it again and stuck out his tongue.

"Hot! hot!" he complained looking at you.

"You can talk?" you wondered more to yourself.

"Why shouldn't I?" he didn't understand and tilted his head to the side.

"I don't know. I've never talked to a dragon," you replied, meaning you hadn't even met one yet. The dragon reached closer to you as if to examine you. You automatically reached back if he wanted to attack you again.

"I can change into a human too," he said casually.

"What?" you couldn't believe it when before your eyes the dragon shrunk and changed into a young man with black hair, a warm smile and dragon features.

"Is it better this way?" he asked sitting across from you. You nodded your head in agreement.

After this change, he asked you about the meat, if he can eat it. You agreed. However, you didn't expect that he would suddenly shove it in my mouth and leave with a bare bone. In addition, his stomach rumbled and he asked if you had any more. And so you made the rest of the meat you had hidden in the cave.

Since then, the dragon who was named Luffy accompanied you almost on every step of the way and it was clear that you were never bored in his presence.

Luffy Masterlist

[jayietheriverwarrior]

First: LINK

Previous: LINK

Next: Coming soon?

Here's the next part of my story of Sarafina and her friendship with (and mutual unacknowledged love for) Zira! I might make more, I have some vague ideas of where I might take this during Scar's reign, but nothing concrete yet, we'll see.

The drawing is all mine this time, including the background (though I did trace Sarafina's head again a bit from a screenshot from the movie, she's just so hard to get right). I had a lot of fun with the water effects and lighting for this one. The lightning is meant to be a screen divider, showing two panels, one of Zira, one of Sarafina, hopefully that comes across well enough in the drawing.

~-~-~

Sarafina eventually marries her betrothed, fellow guard member Kimbia, and the pair have a daughter, Nala. While not remotely attracted to each other, they’re good friends and never blame each other for the lack of attraction or lack of choice about marrying each other. They do their best to make it easier on each other, but it’s still less than ideal. Kimbia is actually in love another lioness in the pride, a huntress named Sema, but Sema isn't much of a fighter and Shari wants strong warriors bred for her war against the Pride Lands, which is why she paired Kimbia with Sarafina instead.

Kimbia is open about his situation with Sema to Sarafina from the start, and she is fine with them continuing their relationship, so long as they're careful not to be caught. They're not careful enough to avoid Sema becoming pregnant, however, and she gives birth to a boy named Tojo shortly before Nala's birth. Shari doesn't seem to suspect anything, but it has all three lions on edge nonetheless.

But even more than worrying over Shari discovering what they're up to, the birth of these cubs changes everything for these three lions. Suddenly, it’s not enough to just go along with their pride’s cruel way of life anymore. It's not enough to argue with Ziara over the state of the pride but not do much else to change things and just hope for them to get better. Now, there’s something precious to protect, something worth fighting for a better future for. They soon decide they can no longer stay in a pride so determined to make vicious killers out of their precious cubs. They must escape - they must run away to the Pridelands and beg King Mufasa for shelter, and hope he's not the vicious throne-stealer Shari has painted him and his father as all of these seasons.

Sarafina hates the thought of abandoning Ziara, but after so many arguments on the subject, she knows Ziara would never leave her mother’s pride. When the cubs are toddlers, Sarafina, Kimbia, and Sema finally make a break for it one night when a fierce storm hits, with the hope that the rain will wash away their scent and the thunder will cover any sound of their escape. But they get unlucky when a scout spots them leaving. Ziara is in shock that her best friend would try to leave, but Shari is furious. Not only are members of her guard abandoning their post by trying to leave, but they are stealing cubs from the pride, future warriors in their battle against the Pride Lands. This cannot be allowed. The only solution is the death of the traitors, and the recovery of the cubs. Ziara is desperate to stop her friend and stop her mother from killing her, but she hardly knows how she's going to manage it, she just knows she has to join the effort to recover the cubs and hope to find a way to stop all of this before her beloved Sarafina gets killed.

A chase ensues, and the three deserters end up being driven to the river gorge that divides the Outlands from the Pridelands (where Kiara and Kovu nearly got eaten by crocs in the second movie). Ziara manages to catch up with Sema and wrests Tojo from her grasp - to her shock, her beloved Sarafina turns on her and attacks, tearing her ear to make her let go and take the cub back from her. The lionesses and their cubs manage to make it across the tree bridge to the other side with only a few of the pride making it across while in pursuit of them.

When Kimbia attempts to follow, however, a furious Shari attacks him. With the queen furiously trying to tear into him and holding him back from reaching the other side, and the rest of the pride ready to cross the bridge and pursue his mates and their cubs, Kimbia makes a heart-breaking choice - he jostles the tree bridge in a way that dislodges it from one bank, cutting off access from either side and sending both himself and Shari falling to their deaths in the churning river below.

For a moment, every lion is stunned into silence. The Outlanders have lost their queen, Ziara has lost her mother, Sema has lost her beloved mate, and Sarafina has lost a dear friend and the father of her daughter - and, unbeknownst to her, to the son she is carrying and will deliver in a few months, a son she will call Mheetu. Two of Shari's pride stand on the Prideland's side of the gorge with Sarafina and Sema - Princess Dunia, the heir to her mother’s throne, and her mate Tumbili, the guard's Keenest of Sight. As the Outlanders get over their shock at Shari's death, they begin calling for Dunia and Tumbili to seize Sarafina and Sema, to kill the traitorous lionesses and bring the cubs the long way around the gorge to the Outlands once more.

But Dunia hesitates. She is not like Ziara. She never bought into her mother's hatred of the Pridelands. All she wants is a peaceful life and freedom from her mother's harsh treatment. And now, she has this one chance, this one shining chance, to break away from that life forever. With a glance at her mate to confirm his support, she turns away from her pride and joins Sarafina and Sema, and as the Outlanders shriek their outrage behind them, all four lions set off for Pride Rock. But before leaving, Sarafina turns back, just once, to meet the furious, hurt, hate-filled glare of Ziara.

So in the drawing we see one last look between these two friends, who once loved each other so fiercely, who still feel that love, only to have it soured by hurt and loss and betrayal. Sarafina, now safe in the Pridelands with her daughter safe in her grasp, looking sadly across the river at the lioness who had once been her whole world - but she has a new world now, and as much as leaving Zira and hurting her in this way tears at her heart, she can’t regret it, and she won’t let it destroy her. The rain washes away her guard symbol, symbolizing her leaving the Guard, and her life in the Outlands, behind.

Ziara looks across at the lioness she had trusted more than any other, who she’d thought would always be by her side, and who had betrayed her in the worst way she could ever imagine. Not only did she permanently scar her ear, but her mother is dead because of her, and her sister abandoned and betrayed her because of Sarafina’s example. She had gone after Sarafina to try and save her from her own foolishness, only for Sarafina to take away everything she'd loved. Ziara has nothing left now but her rage, and the hate steadily growing in her heart. With her sister and mother gone, she is now the new queen of the Outlands, and just as her mother did before her, she takes a new name to fit that new role - she is no longer Ziara, a traveler to a sacred place, but Zira, hatred for her enemies. And she will make those enemies pay for every bit of her suffering - starting with Sarafina.