#it was a tire swing that had broken off of its rope— leaving half of the rope on the tree: making it kinda look like an empty noose—

[maxthesillyy]

i never understood it when people said max got character bashed in the prequel. there was one fucked up drawing in chloe’s Nightmare and they made One of her flaws more present/clear.

if you mean you dont want to accept that your fave isn’t one hundred percent morally Correct and Good with zero flaws, then just say that.

[octarianstrength]

The night passed by without so much as a peep from Yulia. She'll never know if everyone had simply assumed she was in a bad mood and didn't want to be bothered, or if she was tired from the days work and had decided to have an early night. Whatever they had thought mattered little, as the truth would be revealed in the morning.

The day started like any other on the mountain outpost. Those who were tasked with keeping watch of things overnight were just retiring to their beds and the majority of the forces there were just getting up. Within a few minutes everyone would be at their usual stations and it'd be another day like any other. No strange occurrences whatsoever...

That's how it'd usually go anyway. Today the crew at Apex Tentacle Outpost woke up to an alert from Yulia herself that there was a change of plans. Those responsible for preparing food for the outpost were to report to the kitchens ASAP whilst everyone else was left with nothing. No special duties or even their regular ones.

About an hour later Yulia's intentions were made clear.

In front of the main housing area for all of the soldiers a number of tables had been set up, all of them lined with the finest cuisine the Octarian military has to offer... which isn't anything too special, but for a soldier that's been deployed for so long? It's like staring at heaven.

About a minute after everyone started rushing over to investigate, the order was officially given out. "Have fun." was all Yulia broadcast to an entire base of Octarians. And no one had the power or authority to challenge her, not that it's likely there are many who would even want to in the first place.

What had initially started as just an excuse for everyone to share some good food and laughs with each other soon turned into a base-wide party. The only thing that was missing was music, something that would unfortunately not find its way to the party on account of the base needing to remain hidden.

Music aside, things were going off better than Yulia could have hoped for. Before long several games had broken out, such as pin the tentacle on the octotrooper, charger chicken (a game in which two combatants ride Squee-Gs towards each other at high speeds while using their chargers as lances) and even a group that had made a very crude pinata setup using a rope tied around a big rock and a thick metal rod.

...The last one of those ended up intriguing Yulia the most and she joined in, giving the rock a few good whacks and leaving it dangling with the rope. But ultimately neither the rock nor the rod had given way...

That is until Yulia passed the rod to another elite that had traveled with her, one that had a similar build to her albeit a little less muscular. She gave the rock a few quick pokes and let herself get a good feel for the weight of the metal bar in her hands. After a few seconds of silence? Hesitation? It didn't matter what it was as this lady gave the rod the swing of a lifetime. The sound of metal colliding with stone rang out across the camp, it was loud, booming even. It commanded some degree of respect from the entire party.

The metal rod had clearly met its match as it stayed in its post-swing position, dented and bent across one side of the rock. Everyone looked on at this sad conclusion to the battle until...

A tiny cracking sound. Inaudible to everyone but the people closest to the show. The rock gave way, splitting in half down its centre and falling to the ground, now free from its ropey prison.

The partygoers roared and cheered at the spectacle and a number of people (Yulia included) rushed in to surround the woman that had performed such an amazing feat. It was more lively and chaotic than any sporting event could ever hope to be. And despite the fact that nothing could hope to top the wonders everyone had just witnessed, the festivities continued well into the night.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Acquainted Part 1: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: After avoiding Geto for three weeks after your kiss on the training field, he confronts you while out with a group of sorcerers at the club. (definitely inspired by “Acquainted” by The Weeknd ლ(́◉◞౪◟◉‵ლ))

words: 1,670

tw: nsfw (drug use and drinking)

We’re just blowing off steam. As you fluff your curls and adjust your green, slinky minidress, you try to come up with any good reason to not go to the club with a group of jujutsu sorcerers. And Geto Suguru. 

You had skillfully avoided him after kissing in the training field; part of you was nervous, the other was absolutely baffled about how someone so powerful and dangerous could possibly be interested in you. You spent the majority of your time ducking into back hallways when you saw his powerful figure rounding the corner, or avoiding his stare as you passed by. It had been difficult, but your insecurity felt heightened now that you knew you had the eye of one of the strongest men in Tokyo. There was no way that you wouldn’t hear about the comparison if anyone found out about what happened that day. 

Yesterday, Shoko had intercepted you on the way to class and grabbed your shoulder, fixing you with a hard stare you didn’t think could come from her. “We’re going out to the club tomorrow, and I want you to be there.”  

You click your tongue against your teeth as you press a nude eyeshadow into the crease between your upper and lower eyelid and contemplate faking sick. As if the universe had heard you planning to back out, you hear the unmistakable hiss of your door sliding open. The sound of heels clicking against the floor makes you turn around and come face to face with Shoko, who places a hand on her black denim-clad hip and looks you over once.

“You ready, y/n?”

“Yeah.” 

“You’re riding with me and Gojo.” There was no mention of Suguru, but you reason that’s only because Shoko knows. She hadn’t said a word to you about the incident, but the way she accosted you yesterday told you that she was obviously aware. 

As you both make your way to the parking lot, you gain a feeling of comfort when you see the sapphire-eyed sorcerer patting on the steering wheel of his SUV, the bass reverberating from the stereo system. When you open the door, the words “bitch, sit on my face, I attack that” hits your eardrums and you cringe before climbing into the back seat. 

“Gojo!” you yell over the music, but the sorcerer only deviously smiles at you from the front seat. 

“Come on, y/n! It’s a vibe,” Gojo replies, then cranks the music up even more. Shoko sits on the passenger side, lighting up a joint before inhaling deeply and passing it to Gojo. The car pulls out of the parking spot and speeds off to the club. “Here.” Gojo passes you the blunt and you carefully take it between your fingers, inhaling as deeply as you can. You’ll need all of the calming agents you can get your hands on tonight. 

Two passes later, the bright lights of the downtown area slide into view and your nerves are much less frayed than before. Gojo makes a few turns, then finds a parking lot where you all smoke your last before extinguishing the joint in the car’s ashtray. The white sorcerer opens your car door, coaxing you out of the seat your legs stuck to, and you follow the two past the long line outside of the club and to the front doors. The bouncer smiles at Gojo, nods at Shoko, and eyes you carefully before opening the door without so much as a word. 

“Sometimes being a sorcerer pays off.” Shoko tosses over her shoulder, winking at you. The thumping bass and low-lights remind you of the times you would spend weekends with your friends from college, getting drunk and seeing how many men you could kiss in an evening. Tonight, however, you would get cross-faded and see how many men you could avoid. 

The bar was full of people watchers observing those who chose to dance, and your eyes roam the crowd to see if a certain man would appear out of thin air to accost you. When you were certain he had not yet made his appearance, you relaxed against the cool metal of the bar, thinking about what you want to drink. You don’t have to think for long when Gojo slides a glass of clear liquid your way, passing another one to Shoko. 

“First round is on me, ladies.” You toss the shot back and grimace as the fire of vodka slides down your throat, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. You wait for the numb feeling to take hold, hoping it would arrive before the raven-haired sorcerer did. But as soon as Shoko pulls you onto the dance floor, the urge to worry slips away on the heels of a catchy tune. 

It isn’t long before your hands are in your hair as you swing side to side, the thrumming beat of the music making you close your eyes and release your inhibitions. Yes, this was it. The bliss that comes with the numbness washes over you and you forget all about --

“Oh, hey, we got a VIP section!” You turn your head slowly to look in the direction Shoko pointed, and you could see a few sorcerers you knew in passing seated behind a red velvet rope. Gojo was among them, tossing back another shot, and laughing obnoxiously, and when you scan to the left of them, you catch the black eyes of Geto Suguru. “Come on.” 

You timidly follow your friend to the VIP section and smile nervously at the group, who greets you excitedly. Well, everyone except for Suguru, that is. He’s seated off the side of the large booth, fingers pressed to his right temple in a show of boredom. 

“Take another shot!” Gojo encourages you, and you obey, if only to focus on something else. “Hey, Suguru, are you going to drink or will I have to give your shot to y/n? She’s already pretty tipsy, but I’m sure you won’t--” A shot disappears from the table in a flash, deposited quickly into Suguru’s throat. Gojo cheers childishly, and turns back to his other friends, striking up a conversation about the time he goaded Suguru into drinking seven shots in a row without stopping. You glance over to the pensive man, who’s clad in an expensive looking dress shirt and black pants. His hair is also up in its usual bun, but he’s not looking at you, instead preferring to stare out into the crowd. You turn away again, but realize a little too late that a second-year is backing up right into you.

On the way down, you consider your fate. 

A broken ankle was the worst outcome. A bruised ego was the best. 

However, neither of them occur, and you feel a pair of strong hands firmly holding your waist. You look up to see none other than Suguru holding you upright, and the second-year begins his apology, stammering about his mistake as he quickly backs away. 

“You alright?” The feeling of Suguru’s hands against your skin makes you shiver, and for a moment, you’re grateful he can’t see the color of your cheeks in the dim light. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” There’s something about the way he looks at you, the way he doesn’t let go of you that breeds that familiar nervousness in you. But you can’t pull away from his grasp… because you don’t want to. 

“Dance with me.” The words fall from Suguru’s mouth easily and you nod, earning a half-smile from him. You make your way to the dance floor again, and once you find a spot that isn’t taken, Suguru turns you around and pulls your hips flush against his. You wrap your arms around his neck after he dips low enough. Suguru presses a kiss to your temple before whispering huskily in your ear.

“You’ve been avoiding me for too long, y/n.” The apology that falls from your lips is automatic. “I’m a very patient man, but this? Tell me what I did to push you away.” 

“You didn’t do anything.” You answer, and you feel his grip on your hips tighten. 

“Then why in the world have you been dancing around me like this?” A strangled noise escapes your mouth and he presses a hand against your bottom, swaying back and forth to the beat of the music. 

“I…” 

“You don’t have to answer that right now. Just dance with me.” You continue to dance with him, feeling the world blur around the edges as the vodka shots settle into your bloodstream. Suguru’s lips press against your temple again, then he removes his hand from your back to cup your chin. Your lips meet his tenderly, the quick kisses seeking and searching for more. Before long, he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with ease. Your teeth click together, dragging across each other’s taste buds, while his hands grope you over your dress.

“Su…” you moan as he pulls away, and he tilts his head, eyes lidded. 

“I have to get you out of here.” Suguru pulls you off the dance floor and out of the club, and you suppose everyone inside is much too occupied to see the two of you suddenly depart. You hang onto him as you exit the club into the crisp night air… much like the air the night you two met for the first time. He opens the door to his flashy two-seater, letting you slide inside before he presses the start button and pulls out of the parking lot. His right hand grips your thigh as he drives in silence, the only sound between you the revving of his car and the tires on the pavement. You want to explain, you want to address your feelings, but as Suguru strums his fingers along your bare leg to some unheard tune, all you can do is think about his lips on yours and the way he touches you.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: The Stealth Suit

Summary: Katie has a Stealth Suit Kink, but who doesn’t??

Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT NSFW and NO UNDER 18s!!

Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark.

A/N: Let’s face it…there’s no plot here bar a load of smut so…yeah.. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“For the 500th time…I’m FINE, Steve!” Katie snapped at him. Steve took a deep breath, his hands falling to his hips as the jet fell silent. “I’m not the one with a bullet in my leg” “There’s nothing in my leg!” A voice said causing them to turn to the back of the jet where Natasha was sat, Clint wrapping her leg in a bandage. “Its just a graze…” “Nat, I’m so sorry…” Katie started and Nat shook her head, waving her hand. “Nova, I told you to take the shot.” She shrugged “It was a 50/50…ee had to take the chance. Besides, it hit him too so…” “2 people, 1 bullet…” Clint grinned, but Katie couldn’t find it in herself to smile. “I told Fury this was a bad idea…” she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come.” Clint frowned “Hey, Nova look…I know you’re not technically an agent now but we’d have been out numbered and out gunned without you…it would have been a lot worse.” Katie didn’t say anything. Instead she simply nodded and headed over to retrieve a bottle of water before she sat down. How she had gotten roped into this she had no idea. Actually that was a lie. She knew exactly how it had happened. SHIELD had been tracking a big player who had been bragging amongst certain circles that he had something new, a game changer in the world of arms dealing- a piece of the whiplash technology that Ivan Vanko had developed and used to fight Tony back in 2010. As Tony was currently in London, Fury had asked Katie to look over the blueprints Natasha had retrieved whilst undercover. She had JARVIS confirm it was, indeed, a similar technology and that she also knew from history with Stark Industries that it would be possible to manufacture with the right equipment. That was enough for Fury to run a full scale op to exfil Natasha at the same time as shutting the target down and acquiring the designs to prevent this happening again in the future. Katie had been all set to wish them good luck when Clint had levelled her with a look and told her they were a sniper down as Evans had broken his arm in a training op. Katie had shrugged until Fury had looked at her, asking her to take a place on the field team for this particular mission, and as she had sighed Steve had turned to her and simply said that she didn’t have to do anything she didn’t want to whilst crossing his arms over the front of his broad chest which was adorned with the silver star and stripes…and that was it. She had agreed.

Because she had a weakness for her soldier…and a fucking kink for that goddamned midnight blue and silver kevlar. The mission had gone to shit. They’d gotten what they needed, Katie covering the rendezvous point where they were meeting Natasha only to see her approaching being followed by a man with some form of machete looking weapon. Katie didn’t have a clear shot as Natasha started to duck and dive out of the hostile’s way but Natasha had instructed her to take it anyway. So she did and the bullet had hit it’s intended target…after first grazing Natasha’s thigh as she had thrown her legs up around the guys chest to flip him over. “Stop beating yourself yourself up about it Nova.” Rumlow piped up “Sometimes we take collateral and this time collateral was Widow.” Katie gave an angry noise and turned to Rumlow “I don’t like collateral on any fucking scale Brock…” Rumlow looked as if he was going to bite back but Steve shot him a look causing the man to fall silent. Katie shook her head and made her way back to the seat, pulling our her StarkPhone and burying herself in her actual job, replying to a few emails. Once the debrief was over and Katie had apologised, once again to Natasha, she headed off to the locker room. “You should go talk to her.” Nat looked at Steve as he stood up from where he had been undoing the buckles on his boots. “She’s pissed…” “She’s upset.” Steve corrected. “Get to Medical, that’s an order.” “I’ll see to it she does Cap.” Clint assures him. Steve gave a nod, swinging his shield up onto his back before he headed off after Katie, taking the elevator down to the floor which held the equipment stores and the changing rooms. He knocked on the female one, poking his head in as he knew she would be the only one in there given the hour and the fact Nat was the only other female on the mission. “Honey?” He asked softly as he stepped inside. She emerged from the locker area, dressed in the tight compression tank-top and shorts she wore under the catsuit. “You ok?” “No.” She admitted to him. “Not really…” He sighed and crossed towards her, pulling her into a hug. She pressed her check to his chest as he dropped a kiss to her head. “It wasn’t your fault.” He said and she shrugged in his arms. He pulled back slightly and tilted her chin up with his glove clad hand and she allowed him to capture her lips in a soft kiss. Katie pulled back, and Steve watched as she cocked her head to one side, biting her lip.

He knew that look very well. “You’re a nightmare…” he chuckled, arching an eyebrow and she shrugged, running her hands up his chest, fingers tracing the silver star. He caught her wrists in his hands and she glanced up at him, swallowing at the darkness that was now in his eyes as they flashed with desire. Without a word he reached down, hands hooking on her thighs as he hoisted her up, his lips crashing to hers, her legs wrapped around his waist, underneath the edge of his shield on his back. Shucking off his boots, he strode out of the main area of the room through to the wet room at the back where he gently set her down on the edge of the counter which held the sinks along the edge of the room. He shifted his hands to her back, holding her strongly to him, lips moving from her mouth to her jaw line and then her neck where he nipped gently. Katie gave a groan and her hands dropped to his utility belt, hastily unclipping it before she next went to the button and zips on his uniform pants. “Want something baby girl?” He teased “You know what I want…” she said as he grinned and decided to help her out. He reached for the waist band of his combats, intending on pushing them down over his hips but she stopped him. “Leave it on” “What?” He asked, his voice was gravely from his arousal and he wasn’t quite sure be had heard her right. “You know I love this suit…” she said, reaching into his flies and grabbing his length on her hand, drawing a load grunt from his mouth as she freed him through the space now his trousers were undone at the front. “Leave it on…” “Yes ma'am.” He mumbled, one hand tangling in her hair, the other on the base of her spine as he pulled her close for another deep kiss. He gripped the bottom of her compression tank top and she moved her arms so he could pull it over the top, freeing her breasts and she gave a soft sigh as his head dropped to her chest. His tongue gently traced her nipple, teasing it to a peak as his other hand rubbed at her core through her lycra shorts which were fast becoming soaked. She groaned, her head falling back as Steve grinned to himself, the sight of her simply surrendering herself completely to him in such a raw, trusting and unabashed way was something he would never tire of. His lips traced upwards and he felt her gently pushing on his chest through his uniform. Stepping back slightly, he watched as she jumped down and pushed him round so he had his back to the counter before she dropped to her knees, hands sliding up to the back of his thighs. “Fuck…” he half groaned, half cursed as Katie licked the underside of his shaft making her way from the base up to the tip. She looked up at him, his still gloved hand fell to the back of her head, gently tangling in her hair, the other one grasping at the marble counter top behind him. Maintaining eye contact, Katie wrapped her lips around him and slowly moved her mouth up and down her fingers tightening on the backs of his thighs as he did so. He allowed her to control the pace, his hand simply resting in her hair as her head moved back and forth. His eyes never left hers, the mischievous twinkle still present and as she took him to the back of her throat he let out a loud hiss as his cock twitched. His fingers tightened around the marble top and it was then that they both heard a loud cracking noise. Katie stilled, releasing him from her mouth with a small pop and looked up as Steve glanced at the place his hand rest, the side now displaying finger shaped marks in the marble. “Something got you worked up Soldier?” Katie teased and with that Steve gently tugged her hair. “Get up here…” he instructed softly and she did as she was told, rising to her feet. Grabbing her hips he spun her around and pushed her roughly against the sink basin. His hands tore the fabric of her shorts easily and he tossed the shreds of lycra to the side before he pressed his body into hers, one hand settling on her hip, the other ever so tenderly wrapped around the front of her throat. Steve leaned forward, lips by her ear as he used the hand on her neck to hold her head in place so she was looking directly in the mirror. His eyes locked onto hers as he whispered his simple instruction. “Watch” He saw a flicker in her ears, excitement, as he used his foot to knock her legs apart, bending her forwards slightly before he buried himself in her in one slow, deliberate move, eyes not once leaving hers in the mirror. He saw her face screw up in pleasure as she gave a moan at being taken this way and the hand on her throat gave a gentle squeeze. “Eyes on me doll…” he instructed. Her eyes opened again and locked back onto his as he moved his hips, rocking into her, as deep as he could get. Her back arched, her mouth freely allowing her soft cries and whispers to escape while he thrust deeply into her, again and again. The feeling was exquisite to Katie. He always felt good but now, accompanied by the feel and scratch of that suit against her skin, the noises it was making as it rustled with each movement, the clinging of buckles and belts and then the fact he was being so dominant, ensuring she did as she was told and watched him…fuck, she was all kinds of turned on here. The hand that had been on her hip crept round the front if he belly and Steve reached down, teasing her clit, causing her to shudder and a loud wail of pleasure fell from her lips. Steve chuckled slightly, eyes on hers in the mirror. “Shhhh” he said softly, before he smirked “Like that, huh?” “Fuck, yes…” she groaned, as the hand on her neck moved to the side of her face and Steve turned her head so he could kiss her, his hips moving faster now as he could feel himself starting to unravel. “You close baby?” His voice was a whisper and she answered him with a soft moan as his fingers continued to work in time with his trust, his mouth moving to her jaw line, nipping softly before his hand, once again on her neck, forced her face round to look at him in the glass again. “Cap…Captain…I’m gonna…” “Let go…c'mon…thass my girl…” his Brooklyn accent rolled off his tongue as he continued his deliberate thrusts into her, hand holding her neck in place so her face was focused on his in the mirror. He watched carefully, as her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and she reached up, grabbing at his arm, as he felt her tightening around him, her legs shaking as she gave a loud, drawn out moan, her entire body convulsing. When Katie opened her eyes she saw Steve’s own flutter shut, his mouth dropping open as his head fell forward, pressing into her neck, biting down softly as he groaned, hips faltering with his release. She watched him, those long eyelashes resting against his now flushed cheeks and when they cracked open to reveal those deep blue eyes she had fallen in love with from the very start, she gave him a soft smile which he returned, tipping her head to kiss him. “You ok?” He asked, his hands sliding over her belly, noticing the marks where she had banged into the unit, frowning slightly. “Did I…” “Stop it…” she instructed him, looking at him. “I’m fine…more than fine…that was amazing.” He chuckled, a swell of smugness in his chest warmed him through as he kissed the side of her neck. “Guess you really do like this suit, huh?” He asked as she turned to look at him, her hands tracing the lines of the star. “Prefer the guy that’s in it but…yeah, not gonna lie. It does things to me…your ass looks great.” She said, looking round him as he laughed. “Its all yours baby” he quipped and she grinned, leaning up to kiss him. “I need a shower.” She mumbled “you joining me?” “Can I take the suit off for that?” He asked. She nodded as her lips ghosted over his “Like I said, the suit’s a kink…what I really love is the man in it.” 30 seconds later said suit was not so stealthily littered around the female changing rooms as Steve backed his girl into the large, rainfall shower cubicle, shutting the glass door behind him with his foot.

[airplanned]

Wait, I Got This

Ned does Whumptober wrong.

***

There was the time Zelda woke up feeling absolutely miserable.  Her head pounded and her body ached, and it took a long moment to realize that she was hanging upside down from her ankles.  From the looks of things, she was in the Yiga hideout.  She groaned and lifted her heavy hands to rub her face.  She might have been able to reach up and untie her ankles.  Maybe.  Honestly, probably not.  She was very sluggish.

"Oh good.  You're awake."

Her vision was spotty, and she rotated slowly until Link came into view.  He was also hanging upside-down, but unlike her, he was wrapped shoulder to ankle in rope.  He beamed at her, his face red.

"Swing over here and grab me, so I can get us out of here."

She blinked at him.  "Why are you tied up so much more than I am?"

"Because I've already gotten down twice."

She supposed that would do it.

"Swing over here."

"How would that help us..." Words were difficult.  "...In this situation?"

"Just--Come--more towards me."

She was still rotating slowly.  She let her arms fall and sagged into the gravity.  Her head felt so heavy.

"No, this way," he said.

When she came back around, he was giving her such an expectant look that she gave it a try, arching her body and tensing her core until she was swinging, then swinging more.  She managed to grab him, but nearly dropped him because her hands were numb.

She was tired now.

"Okay," she gasped.  "What now?"

He grinned at her.  From behind his back, somewhere under the layers of rope, his fingers snapped.  And lightning crashed through the room.  From below, a Yiga shrieked, and their ropes split, and Link bent in the air so she landed hard on her arm and her knee, but mostly on him and not on her head.

"Great," he said, sounding as though he honestly meant it.  "Now cut me loose."

"With what?"

"There's a knife in my boot."

She looked down at his boots, which were bound in rope just as tightly as the rest of him.  This was going to prove difficult.

There was shouting from deeper in the complex.  Link arched his neck at an awkward angle to look in that direction, then back to her.

"Gonna have to move a little faster," he said.

"Goddess save me," she muttered, and dug her nails into the knot by his ankles.

#

There was the time she was sitting in front of the house, dismantling a recovered skywatcher when Link stumbled across the bridge.  His movements were jerking, and his trail was serpentine.  Zelda rushed up to check on him. 

"I don't feel great," he said.  His words were a bit slurred.

She took his face in her hands to inspected him.  One of his pupils was a pinpoint while the other was blown wide, and she watched in horror as the one grew and the other shrunk until they traded sizes. She nearly screamed--furiously at him and his recklessness, or a high-pitched wild scream--which one was more likely to claw its way up her throat was a mystery.

But then he closed his eyes and rubbed the butt of his hand against his temple.  His face scrunched like a little boy as he grumbled.  "My mouth tastes like flowers."

"What happened?" she demanded.

"I don't know.  I fought the Yiga, but--"

He rubbed harder at his head, and his arm moved in such a way that she caught sight of his arm.  Grabbing his wrist, he twisted to reveal an arrow lodged in his bicep.  The shaft had been broken off.  He looked down at it and said simply "Huh."  Then grabbed it.  Before she could shout at him to stop, he yanked it free of his arm with a wince.  He held it up and grimaced at it.

The arrowhead was barbed and jagged, and from it rose a red, swirling mist that seemed to disintegrate into fine, red powder.  

"Oh," he said.  "That looks like poison."  Then he crumpled. 

She managed to catch him enough to slow his fall, and lay him out on the grass.

She rushed for the house and the fairy tonic on a high shelf, knocking down bottles of elixirs as she grabbed it.  She slid onto her knees beside him, pulled the stopper out with her teeth, propped up his head, and drained the tonic down his throat.  He spluttered and winced and opened his eyes so she got to see his pupils even out into the same size.

"That was a close one," he said.

In aggravation, she stood, letting his head flop to the ground with a crack.

#

There was the time, they were investigating the Sealed Temple.  She was taking notes straight onto the wall in chalk, diagramming the inner working of a guardian's eye, and Link was prowling around the perimeter, looking for something to keep him entertained.

She froze at the sound of a high-pitched laugh, and she jerked her head up the ceiling to find the source.  A boom sounded from a different direction.  From below her.  The bridge beneath her feet trembled, then shook, the roar of crumbling stone building ever louder.  The stone right under her jerked, pitching to an angle, and she lost her feet, and Link was running towards her.

The floor gave out.  She fell a split second before the floor under Link gave out too.  He was upside-down, but grabbing for her waist, and once he got an awkward hold on her, he pulled open his paraglider one handed, and they whipped around so he was upright and she was upside-down and nearly thrown away from him.  He grabbed her shirt just as part of the bridge hits him and the paraglider was knocked aside.  They tumbled, both scrambling for the paraglider, both pummeled by falling rocks.  The roar of the crumbling bridge drowned out her scream.

They hit the floor of the Sealed Temple hard, jagged chunks of rock biting into her side and arm.  She groaned and looked up to Link, who was half on top of her, when a shadow fell over his face.  He looked up, and the rest of the bridge fell on top of them.

...

It was too dark to see anything, but she could breathe, so she was still alive.  Her breath was loud and close, so she hadn't been flattened, but she didn't have much room.  She tried to take stock of her body: everything hurt.  She gave up trying to move.  She could lie here for a moment.

And Link--

"Link!"

She tried to sit up, but cracked her head against a rock that was only a foot above her face.  It was hard to move her arm to draw out her slate, but she managed it, and the glow from the stasis rune shed light on her situation.  A large, flat slab--possibly one of the pillars that once held up the bridge--was now a low ceiling with rocky debris sealing her into a low, narrow cave.  She heaved her leg from beneath a pile of fallen rock, and scooted down lower into her cave so she had more space to sit up.  Loose rubble fell around her as she moved.

Once she had some room, she was able to get a better look around.  Once she was closer, Link stood out in bright yellow.  He lay on his stomach, half buried in the debris, his head and shoulders visible, his arms limp.

"Link!"  She scurried toward him on her hands and knees, bending to pat his face.  "Speak to me."

He groaned and didn't open his eyes.  There was a dark, sticky mess in his hair that must have been blood but was the wrong color under stasis.

She couldn't tend to him while using the stasis rune, so she pulled up the brightest image she could find and used it as a dim light in the small space.  The picture was the two of them in the bright summer sun, her holding the slate out at arm's length, and him reaching to press the button to capture the image.

She propped up the slate and shoved debris off him.  At first it was easy, but when she actually started to dig him out, there was an ominous rumble. Link must have been load bearing.

"This would certainly be much easier if you were conscious," she huffed, grunting as she moved a rather large stone on his back.  Dust rained down on them.  The whole slab above them groaned as if shifting, settling, trapping them more completely or about to crush them, she couldn't say.

A sudden, green light exploded from Link's body, and she shrieked and stumbled back.  It swept above his head and swirled around him.  There was something liquid about it.  The flash of a fin.  The flash of a scale.  A gentle voice cooing words she couldn't quiet hear.

Link groaned and shifted, and Zelda scrambled back to him.  "Link!"

"'M k."

"You're most certainly not," she shouted.

"Can we get out now?" he muttered.

"Yes.  Yes.  I'm working on it."  She looked around.  It occurred to her that they may very well run out of air before she managed to get them out.  "I just need to...Here. I'll--"

"Use the slate."

"What?"

He groaned.

She grabbed the slate, her mind flying through all the runes she could use to move the rocks, to lift the ceiling, to--

Oh.  She was so foolish.

She grabbed Link's weak hand and warped them straight to Kakariko.

#

There were all those times, and so many more.  Zelda has seen how Link rolls with whatever life throws at him.  He views these obstacles as challenges that he's thrilled to prove he can overcome.

She can roll with it too.  She can see this as a challenge.  Yes.  A challenge.  She will get through.  That is assured.

The first thing is that she needs a plan.  Right.  Yes.  A plan.

Step 1. Stop the bleeding, which she can so if she tear a strip from her shirt, and wraps it around her head until she looks absolutely ridiculous.  If the Yiga see her, she'll have bigger problems than feeling embarrassed.

Good.  Yes.  That's a plan.

She blinks blood from her eye.

Step 2. Escape, which she will do...by climbing the wall hanging with which the Yiga have decorated her cell.  Foolish of them actually to leave that there.  The bars of her cell are only twelve feet high, and there's even a helpful ledge on the wall once she's reached that height.  Then she'll simply drop down, and the entrance is right there. 

Perfect.  Right.  That is completely...completely manageable for someone who loves challenges and climbing things and is not amazingly dizzy.

She clenches and unclenches her fists, trying to get more blood flow to her fingers.  She bounces on her toes, and feels immediately lightheaded.  She rolls her shoulders, gathers the whole width of the banner in a fist, and climbs.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Kinks: The Stealth Suit

Summary: Katie has a Stealth Suit Kink, but who doesn’t?? Warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT- This enrire series is SMUT so NSFW and NO UNDER 18s!! Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark. A/N: Let’s face it...there’s no plot here bar a load of smut so...yeah.. Enjoy.

SSK Masterlist // Main Masterlist

"For the 500th time...I'm FINE, Steve!" Katie snapped at him. Steve took a deep breath, his hands falling to his hips as the jet fell silent. "I'm not the one with a bullet in my leg" "There's nothing in my leg!" A voice said causing them to turn to the back of the jet where Natasha was sat, Clint wrapping her leg in a bandage. "Its just a graze..." "Nat, I'm so sorry..." Katie started and Nat shook her head, waving her hand. "Nova, I told you to take the shot." She shrugged "It was a 50/50...ee had to take the chance. Besides, it hit him too so..." "2 people, 1 bullet..." Clint grinned, but Katie couldn't find it in herself to smile. "I told Fury this was a bad idea..." she shook her head. "I shouldn't have come." Clint frowned "Hey, Nova look...I know you're not technically an agent now but we'd have been out numbered and out gunned without you...it would have been a lot worse." Katie didn't say anything. Instead she simply nodded and headed over to retrieve a bottle of water before she sat down. How she had gotten roped into this she had no idea. Actually that was a lie. She knew exactly how it had happened. SHIELD had been tracking a big player who had been bragging amongst certain circles that he had something new, a game changer in the world of arms dealing- a piece of the whiplash technology that Ivan Vanko had developed and used to fight Tony back in 2010. As Tony was currently in London, Fury had asked Katie to look over the blueprints Natasha had retrieved whilst undercover. She had JARVIS confirm it was, indeed, a similar technology and that she also knew from history with Stark Industries that it would be possible to manufacture with the right equipment. That was enough for Fury to run a full scale op to exfil Natasha at the same time as shutting the target down and acquiring the designs to prevent this happening again in the future. Katie had been all set to wish them good luck when Clint had levelled her with a look and told her they were a sniper down as Evans had broken his arm in a training op. Katie had shrugged until Fury had looked at her, asking her to take a place on the field team for this particular mission, and as she had sighed Steve had turned to her and simply said that she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to whilst crossing his arms over the front of his broad chest which was adorned with the silver star and stripes...and that was it. She had agreed. 

Because she had a weakness for her soldier...and a fucking kink for that goddamned midnight blue and silver kevlar. The mission had gone to shit. They'd gotten what they needed, Katie covering the rendezvous point where they were meeting Natasha only to see her approaching being followed by a man with some form of machete looking weapon. Katie didn't have a clear shot as Natasha started to duck and dive out of the hostile's way but Natasha had instructed her to take it anyway. So she did and the bullet had hit it's intended target...after first grazing Natasha's thigh as she had thrown her legs up around the guys chest to flip him over. "Stop beating yourself yourself up about it Nova." Rumlow piped up "Sometimes we take collateral and this time collateral was Widow." Katie gave an angry noise and turned to Rumlow "I don't like collateral on any fucking scale Brock..." Rumlow looked as if he was going to bite back but Steve shot him a look causing the man to fall silent. Katie shook her head and made her way back to the seat, pulling our her StarkPhone and burying herself in her actual job, replying to a few emails. Once the debrief was over and Katie had apologised, once again to Natasha, she headed off to the locker room. "You should go talk to her." Nat looked at Steve as he stood up from where he had been undoing the buckles on his boots. "She's pissed..." "She's upset." Steve corrected. "Get to Medical, that's an order." "I'll see to it she does Cap." Clint assures him. Steve gave a nod, swinging his shield up onto his back before he headed off after Katie, taking the elevator down to the floor which held the equipment stores and the changing rooms. He knocked on the female one, poking his head in as he knew she would be the only one in there given the hour and the fact Nat was the only other female on the mission. "Honey?" He asked softly as he stepped inside. She emerged from the locker area, dressed in the tight compression tank-top and shorts she wore under the catsuit. "You ok?" "No." She admitted to him. "Not really..." He sighed and crossed towards her, pulling her into a hug. She pressed her check to his chest as he dropped a kiss to her head. "It wasn't your fault." He said and she shrugged in his arms. He pulled back slightly and tilted her chin up with his glove clad hand and she allowed him to capture her lips in a soft kiss. Katie pulled back, and Steve watched as she cocked her head to one side, biting her lip. 

He knew that look very well. "You're a nightmare..." he chuckled, arching an eyebrow and she shrugged, running her hands up his chest, fingers tracing the silver star. He caught her wrists in his hands and she glanced up at him, swallowing at the darkness that was now in his eyes as they flashed with desire. Without a word he reached down, hands hooking on her thighs as he hoisted her up, his lips crashing to hers, her legs wrapped around his waist, underneath the edge of his shield on his back. Shucking off his boots, he strode out of the main area of the room through to the wet room at the back where he gently set her down on the edge of the counter which held the sinks along the edge of the room. He shifted his hands to her back, holding her strongly to him, lips moving from her mouth to her jaw line and then her neck where he nipped gently. Katie gave a groan and her hands dropped to his utility belt, hastily unclipping it before she next went to the button and zips on his uniform pants. "Want something baby girl?" He teased "You know what I want..." she said as he grinned and decided to help her out. He reached for the waist band of his combats, intending on pushing them down over his hips but she stopped him. "Leave it on" "What?" He asked, his voice was gravely from his arousal and he wasn't quite sure be had heard her right. "You know I love this suit..." she said, reaching into his flies and grabbing his length on her hand, drawing a load grunt from his mouth as she freed him through the space now his trousers were undone at the front. "Leave it on..." "Yes ma'am." He mumbled, one hand tangling in her hair, the other on the base of her spine as he pulled her close for another deep kiss. He gripped the bottom of her compression tank top and she moved her arms so he could pull it over the top, freeing her breasts and she gave a soft sigh as his head dropped to her chest. His tongue gently traced her nipple, teasing it to a peak as his other hand rubbed at her core through her lycra shorts which were fast becoming soaked. She groaned, her head falling back as Steve grinned to himself, the sight of her simply surrendering herself completely to him in such a raw, trusting and unabashed way was something he would never tire of. His lips traced upwards and he felt her gently pushing on his chest through his uniform. Stepping back slightly, he watched as she jumped down and pushed him round so he had his back to the counter before she dropped to her knees, hands sliding up to the back of his thighs. "Fuck..." he half groaned, half cursed as Katie licked the underside of his shaft making her way from the base up to the tip. She looked up at him, his still gloved hand fell to the back of her head, gently tangling in her hair, the other one grasping at the marble counter top behind him. Maintaining eye contact, Katie wrapped her lips around him and slowly moved her mouth up and down her fingers tightening on the backs of his thighs as he did so. He allowed her to control the pace, his hand simply resting in her hair as her head moved back and forth. His eyes never left hers, the mischievous twinkle still present and as she took him to the back of her throat he let out a loud hiss as his cock twitched. His fingers tightened around the marble top and it was then that they both heard a loud cracking noise. Katie stilled, releasing him from her mouth with a small pop and looked up as Steve glanced at the place his hand rest, the side now displaying finger shaped marks in the marble. "Something got you worked up Soldier?" Katie teased and with that Steve gently tugged her hair. "Get up here..." he instructed softly and she did as she was told, rising to her feet. Grabbing her hips he spun her around and pushed her roughly against the sink basin. His hands tore the fabric of her shorts easily and he tossed the shreds of lycra to the side before he pressed his body into hers, one hand settling on her hip, the other ever so tenderly wrapped around the front of her throat. Steve leaned forward, lips by her ear as he used the hand on her neck to hold her head in place so she was looking directly in the mirror. His eyes locked onto hers as he whispered his simple instruction. "Watch" He saw a flicker in her ears, excitement, as he used his foot to knock her legs apart, bending her forwards slightly before he buried himself in her in one slow, deliberate move, eyes not once leaving hers in the mirror. He saw her face screw up in pleasure as she gave a moan at being taken this way and the hand on her throat gave a gentle squeeze. "Eyes on me doll..." he instructed. Her eyes opened again and locked back onto his as he moved his hips, rocking into her, as deep as he could get. Her back arched, her mouth freely allowing her soft cries and whispers to escape while he thrust deeply into her, again and again. The feeling was exquisite to Katie. He always felt good but now, accompanied by the feel and scratch of that suit against her skin, the noises it was making as it rustled with each movement, the clinging of buckles and belts and then the fact he was being so dominant, ensuring she did as she was told and watched him...fuck, she was all kinds of turned on here. The hand that had been on her hip crept round the front if he belly and Steve reached down, teasing her clit, causing her to shudder and a loud wail of pleasure fell from her lips. Steve chuckled slightly, eyes on hers in the mirror. "Shhhh" he said softly, before he smirked "Like that, huh?" "Fuck, yes..." she groaned, as the hand on her neck moved to the side of her face and Steve turned her head so he could kiss her, his hips moving faster now as he could feel himself starting to unravel. "You close baby?" His voice was a whisper and she answered him with a soft moan as his fingers continued to work in time with his trust, his mouth moving to her jaw line, nipping softly before his hand, once again on her neck, forced her face round to look at him in the glass again. "Cap...Captain...I'm gonna..." "Let go...c'mon...thass my girl..." his Brooklyn accent rolled off his tongue as he continued his deliberate thrusts into her, hand holding her neck in place so her face was focused on his in the mirror. He watched carefully, as her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and she reached up, grabbing at his arm, as he felt her tightening around him, her legs shaking as she gave a loud, drawn out moan, her entire body convulsing. When Katie opened her eyes she saw Steve's own flutter shut, his mouth dropping open as his head fell forward, pressing into her neck, biting down softly as he groaned, hips faltering with his release. She watched him, those long eyelashes resting against his now flushed cheeks and when they cracked open to reveal those deep blue eyes she had fallen in love with from the very start, she gave him a soft smile which he returned, tipping her head to kiss him. "You ok?" He asked, his hands sliding over her belly, noticing the marks where she had banged into the unit, frowning slightly. "Did I..." "Stop it..." she instructed him, looking at him. "I'm fine...more than fine...that was amazing." He chuckled, a swell of smugness in his chest warmed him through as he kissed the side of her neck. "Guess you really do like this suit, huh?" He asked as she turned to look at him, her hands tracing the lines of the star. "Prefer the guy that's in it but...yeah, not gonna lie. It does things to me...your ass looks great." She said, looking round him as he laughed. "Its all yours baby" he quipped and she grinned, leaning up to kiss him. "I need a shower." She mumbled "you joining me?" "Can I take the suit off for that?" He asked. She nodded as her lips ghosted over his "Like I said, the suit's a kink...what I really love is the man in it." 30 seconds later said suit was not so stealthily littered around the female changing rooms as Steve backed his girl into the large, rainfall shower cubicle, shutting the glass door behind him with his foot.

[tempesrature]

The Case of the Murdered Witch Doctors | Chapter 4

Chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 The Charm of Lost Things (Oneshot Follow-up) Creative Process Note Commissioned Art Piece

Pairing: Ride or Die | Ellie x Colt Summary:  “Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting.” - Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes   Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: PG-16 @rodappreciationweek @lovehugsandcandy

~*~

“Un-hoooooly shit!” Toby exclaims as he circles around Ellie with his nose uncomfortably in her personal space. Her nose wrinkles lightly when she smells the heavy Fern Flower smoke smell on him. “Nothing! Literally nothing! I’ve never smelled anything like it! Xi, you gotta smell this!”

“I’m sorry about him sweetie,” Ximena sighs as shakes her head and places a hand on her hip. “I would be lying if I say he isn’t usually like this. My name’s Ximena and that guy there is Toby.”

“I’m Ellie. And it’s cool. I get it a lot,” Ellie grimaces a little when she feels the tip of Toby’s nose touch her cheek and she pushes his face away from her. “Although not usually this close. Is his nose broken or something?”

“It will be if he doesn’t take a step back,” Colt replies from somewhere behind her as he closes the door behind his office and stands next to Ellie. He looks at Ximena and Toby and gives them a nod. “Both of you leave for the nightclub. I have a guest tonight.”

Colt sends her a smirk and Ellie rolls her eyes before she waves goodbye to Ximena and Toby. The moment the shop’s doors close behind them, Colt turns to Ellie with a smug smile as he leans back to look at her from head to toe. Taking careful note of the red leather jacket and short black shirt she’s wearing.

“I like that you’re curious,” Colt smiles as he looks back up at her face and subtly licks his lips. “Although self-preservation doesn’t seem to be your best trait.”

Ellie scoffs and pushes past him to enter his office. “I could take you on Colt. I haven’t used my magic the entire day.”

“Aw, saving yourself up for me? I’m touched,” Colt snickers as he follows her and closes the door behind him with a click of the lock.

Ellie immediately drops herself on the couch with a heavy sigh as she leans back and tilts her head to the ceiling. Colt raises an eyebrow at her, wanting to ask about the sigh, but he stops himself when he realizes that he’ll need alcohol first if he’s going to be talking to her about anything.

“Anything new to share to the class?” Colt asks as opens the mini fridge and throws her a bottle of beer. Ellie catches it and eyes the bottle suspiciously. Colt scoffs as he takes a seat next to her, peels off bottle cap like a sticker and tosses it on the coffee table in front of them. “Do you really think I’m gonna make you drink blood?”

“Mm,” Ellie agrees as she gathers her magic between her middle finger and thumb and flicks open the bottle cap which causes a loud pop to fill the room and the bottle cap to shoot up and embed itself on his office ceiling.

Colt frowns as he looks up at the bottle cap’s round indent on the ceiling. “You witches really need to understand spatial awareness beyond your magical bubble.”

“Oh we understand. We just don’t care,” Ellie smiles smugly as she drinks her beer. Colt rolls his eyes but he can’t help the small smile that tugs on his lips. Ellie drinks about half of it and places it down on the coffee table before she uses her magic and flicks her wrist to bring up a projected investigation board of the Kilat murder. Colt leans in, still absolutely at awe at how crisp and clear the image’s she projects, as his eyes glow with gold while he quickly takes in the information in front of him.

“This is what I’ve gathered so far. I looked into why a vampire or magical creature could possibly want from albularyo blood since that’s the only thing missing as of now but so far I haven’t found anything. It doesn’t give them any extra powers or anything so this murder is personally, not magically, motivated.”

“Yeah, we usually avoid drinking from magical creatures,” Colt scrunches his nose a little. “The blood tastes like metal. It’s gross,” Colt furrows his eyebrows at the look she gives him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ellie opens her mouth, ready to explain to him what human blood tastes like but decides that it’s a losing battle and just shakes her head.

“Anyway, there was no forced entry in any of the doors, windows and portals. This is why I wasn’t so sure it was a vampire. Maybe a ghoul or a magical creature that can walk through solid objects? But Mr. Ernesto doesn’t mention any of those kinds of creatures as customers in his book.”

“Let me see the book.”

Ellie flicks her wrist and brings up a page the book. “Those crossed out are either dead, not currently in the country, or have been abducted by the fae. The rest I’ve interviewed and cleared of motive or had solid alibis during the time of the murder. I only have two left to question. Jason Shaw and a vampire named Tobias. Do you know anyone with that name? I’m having difficulties tracking them down.”

“No,” Colt replies. “But I’ll get my crew to ask around, it shouldn’t be that difficult.”

Ellie nods, a little relieved that that part of the investigation is handled by someone else. She’s already gotten a lot of heat and shit for stretching out this investigation into its second month. Mona, the head witch of her department, is being constantly pressured by the higher ups to hex the case as quickly as possible. Although Mona tries her best to keep them from interfering too much with Ellie’s work, she knows that it’s only going to be a matter of time before they forcefully stop the investigation.

“So you did all of this? In the last month?”

“Huh?” Ellie pulls herself out of her thoughts and turns to look at Colt who looks back at her with awe and disbelief. She shifts on her seat, suddenly feeling a little shy under his golden gaze, before she waves away the projected investigation board. “Uh yeah. It’s my first case after all. I need to show them that I can do this, even on my own. Nobody wanted to partner up with a half-witch.”

“This is your first case?” Colt whistles appreciatively as he leans back on the couch. “And you managed to rope me in, a Primordial, to help you. I’m impressed.”

“That was the easy part,” Ellie teases as she leans back on the couch next to him, her body suddenly feeling tired and achy. “It helps that my dad is a detective too. I got it from him.”

“Your…mortal dad?” Colt says cautiously, not really sure how to approach the conversation without insulting her for being a half-witch, but Ellie merely shrugs as if she’s heard the question a million times.

“Yeah. My mother was the witch,” She smiles fondly. “A great one too.”

Colt frowns. “Was?”

“Abducted by the fae five years ago.”

Colt grimaces a little, not really wanting to venture into his thoughts of what it’s like to be abducted by the fae. “She must’ve done something pretty shitty to anger the fae.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ellie says as she turns to look at him, her eyes boring into his. “The Coven disowned my mother when she married my dad. The Agency was advised by the Coven not to investigate since she was not, lineage-wise, a witch anymore. So they didn’t.”

“Ah,” Colt says in realization. “So this is why you’re so stubborn about this case.”

She smirks as her eyes shine with mischief. “I’m a cliché after all.”

Colt nods, his body unconsciously leaning closer to hers. “Never thought about investigating it yourself?”

“I want to but can’t,” She shrugs and uses her magic to raise and swirl the rest of her beer on the coffee table. “I promised my dad I wouldn’t do it. That’s the only condition he had when I said I wanted to join the Agency. He investigated my mother’s abduction himself for two years—nearly drove him mad.”

“Ever want to just burn it down?” Colt says as his eyes glow with a golden fire, his voice tight and pained. “The whole of the Agency, right down to its foundation. Maybe then the creatures that deserved justice will finally get it.”

“And what about future cases like Ana’s?” Ellie sighs as she crosses her arms in front of her and the bottle of beer lands on the coffee table with a thump. “I hate it as much as you do and let me tell you, there’s a lot that needs to change in the Agency but there are good people fighting inside too. For people like Ana, me…you. That’s why I chose to stay, why I choose to fight. For now, at least.”

“You are so fucking annoying,” Colt says as he leans into her, his body magnetized to hers. “But I’m starting to realize that I like that.”

Ellie smirks as she leans her face closer to his. “Like I said, one of my better qualities.”

She doesn’t know who closed the gap—him or her—but it’s definitely as fiery and explosive as the kiss they shared in the nightclub nights before.

Ellie swings her legs over his lap, her lips glued to his, as Colt drops the bottle of beer with a thud on the floor in favor of gripping her hips tight in his hands. He pulls her down to his lap, her hips pressed against his, and she slips past a small moan against his lips and he easily pushes his tongue in to taste her.

She hurriedly pushes his jacket off of his shoulders and he moves his hand underneath her skirt to grip her thighs tight in his hand, his nails digging into skin.

“Fuck I want to taste you,” Colt groans as he fits his face into the side of her neck, his fangs lightly scraping her unblemished skin. “I’m curious. What does the blood of a half-witch taste like?”

Ellie lets out a small moan and delves her hands into his hair, gripping tight, before she grinds her hips against his. “Don’t know. Never had reviews.”

Colt chuckles at the tail end of a moan, his eyes lighting up in dark gold as he presses his lips on her racing pulse point. “Should I do the honors?”

Ellie smiles, opening her mouth to accept his invention, when the shrill sound of her ringtone breaks her out of his spell. She quickly untangles her limbs from his, her red lipstick smeared on her lips and her skirt pulled up her legs. She looks at Colt sitting on the couch, a smug and satisfied look on his face. He brings up his thumb and swipes the red lipstick she’s left on him as he bares his fangs in delight, his golden eyes never leaving her blues.

Ellie blushes, her face heating up at the image, as she clumsily digs through her red leather jacket to fish out her phone. “Uh yeah. Ellie—Detective Wheeler speaking. Yeah, Ingrid. No, I’m not busy. Just give me a sec,” She turns to look at Colt and holds the phone to her chest to cover the receiver. “I need to go.”

Colt frowns but recovers quickly and flicks his wrist to the door, his voice teasing and playful. “See you in four days, Miss Half a Witch.”

Ellie quickly exits the office door, pulling her skirt down as she walks, and makes her way out of the shop with her heart thumping hard and fast in her chest. She brings up the phone back to her ear and immediately pulls it away when she hears Ingrid’s loud voice.

“—can’t be serious! Was that Colt’s voice?!” Ingrid gushes, her voice shrill and high. “Ellie Wheeler you did not just sleep with a Primordial vampire!”

“I didn’t sleep with him!” Ellie defends as she hurriedly makes it to her car, buckles in her seatbelt and starts the engine before she drops her head on the steering wheel. “Just…tell me what you found Ingrid.”

“Nuh-uh you’re not getting away that easily. I expect all the dirty projections later!” Ingrid cackles as Ellie groans in exasperation before Ingrid’s voice drops to something serious. “Anyway, we finally got the approval to conduct an autopsy on the Kilat bodies and guess what we found?”

“Ingrid I literally wouldn’t be able to even if I tried, that’s your job.”

“What? Are you always this cranky after sex or is it just reserved for hot but rude vampires?” Ingrid laughs and Ellie glares at nothing. “Fine, anyway. So we found a huge cut to their femoral artery, that’s the vein behind your thigh. If a creature gets injured there—mortal or otherwise—you best expect to die of blood loss if left untreated. Not even a vampire’s saliva can stop blood loss that bad.”

“But wait,” Ellie scrunches her eyebrows and lifts her head off of the steering wheel. “You said there was no injury on the bodies.”

“Yeah, that’s the strange thing. The way the femoral artery was cut up should indicate a visible and pretty nasty injury—but we found nothing. I’ve asked around and no one has seen anything like this. It’s really weird.”

Ellie sighs as she kneads away the oncoming headache. “Thanks Ingrid, I’ll look into it more.”

“Yeah no problem,” Ingrid confirms before her voice lifts into something teasing and playful. “Now back to Colt. Was he like, you know? Hu—”

“Goodbye Ingrid,” Ellie cuts her off and tosses the phone on the passenger seat. She lets out a big sigh as she leans her head back on the seat. The possibilities swim in her head at the new information Ingrid has just presented her.

If the Kilat’s blood was drained by the femoral artery, what was with the vampire bite? And what would a creature do with close to ten liters of albularyo blood? Or did they just dump it out after the murders had been committed? If the end goal truly was just the murder, why go through all the trouble?

Ellie frowns. The possibility of the blood being dumped is there which means she’ll need a werewolf to help sniff out where the blood could’ve gone to. She could always ask Logan but she knows how iffy he is with blood and she certainly doesn’t want to push him to do things he doesn’t want to do. Logan’s already done enough for her for this case since he practically got her access to the Vault he’s supposed to be guarding.

Ellie sighs and starts her drive back to her apartment. For now, she’ll just follow the two leads she has. Maybe after a bottle of wine and a nice bubble bath, she’ll have a clearer head in four days when she’ll meet the next vampire on her list.

Jason Shaw.

A terrifying Primordial vampire with the power to see the memories of the creatures he feeds on.

[underoossss]

A World Without You |P.P| 1/2

pairing: Peter Parker x fem!reader

summary: after Peter gets stuck in an alternate universe, and makes some new friends he finds himself having to save the world yet again, all while trying to get back to you. 

AN: Peter is around 23 in this, and still in uni bc boy can't do more than 2 courses per semester and fight crime ok. I was watching into the spiderverse a while back and wrote this, I was going to make it one big part but decided to split it in two parts instead. I basically thought, what if Tom’s Peter Parker was one of the spideys that travelled to Miles’ dimension? I changed it a bit, but its also a lot like the movie except for a couple of things, there’s also gonna be a time skip from this part to the next one bc we’ve all seen into the spider verse so I’ll highlight most of my favourite parts. 

---- 

part 1 

-----

Peter was used to weird things happening. Well, he should be at least, given all the weird things that are constantly happening to him. This time though, the word weird didn’t even come close to explaining what happened.

It was a cloudy Tuesday afternoon in Manhattan and he had just finished webbing up some bank robbers he cornered in an alley. They were stuck on the wall along with his signature note for the police department, that after his call were already on their way. He leans against the wall, checking his notifications and smiling when he spots your text.

Might escape work early today, how does pasta for dinner sound? - YN

Peter starts typing a response, It’s a date!, but before he can even hit send he feels himself being pulled backward into the wall.

What the hell?

The force with which he is pulled grows and it’s not just him being pulled back anymore, the trash and part of the fire escape in front of him are moving towards him as well. He shoots a web at the concrete wall directly in front of him, trying to move away and glance back at whatever is behind him. A black portal, there’s colors and shapes he can’t really make out but one thing he knows is that the portal is getting bigger. Almost half of his body is inside it now, the other half trying really hard to pull himself back out by shooting more webs anywhere he can. But his efforts are not enough, a few seconds later all of them snap and he is swallowed whole by the wall behind him and moving incredibly fast through what seems to be galaxies grouped together with spiderwebs.

Peter feels like he’s being shot out of a cannon, his eyes shut tight by the sheer force in which he’s moving forward. His arms are pressed tightly to his sides, his legs straight behind him until he’s falling from the sky at an incredible speed. That’s when his reflexes kick in and he opens his eyes just in time to shoot a web at a billboard to soften his fall. He stabilizes himself and looks around at the times square screens surrounding him, only that these are completely different than the ones he sees every day. More importantly, it’s already nightfall, which confuses him even more as he was pretty sure it was around noon just a couple of seconds ago. Scanning the screens for some kind of explanation, Peter turns around and all of the air in his lungs disappears in an instant. There you were, beautiful as always on the screen above him, the problem was that the breaking news tagline under the picture says you’re dead. Spider-Woman, Y/N L/N dead at age 25.

Wait, 25? That’s not right, you’re 23 not 25. Most importantly, you’re not dead. No, you can’t be! Spider Woman?! What is happening!

His mind is trying to process everything that’s happening. Is there actually a chance that he’s in another dimension, and that the portal was the one that got him there? If so, why only him and who is messing with the multiverse? Peter pushes all of this to the back of his mind, his heart is beating wildly in his chest and there is one answer he really needs right now. He shoots a web at a building and makes his way to Manhattan’s graveyard, New York city’s streets a blur as he swings by them. Until an intense pain rushes through his body and he misses the building he was aiming at and he falls face first in the snow. The snowbank is just outside of the graveyard and he ignores the pain he felt as he runs towards the Spiderman balloons hovering above a tombstone.

Y/N L/N, (1995 - 2020)

“No.” Peter falls to his knees, a hand hovering over your name. He takes off his mask and covers his face with his hands. He can’t explain the sobs that are leaving his lips, or why his heart feels completely shattered by this news. “No, this isn’t real. Wake up!”

He slaps himself to try and leave this nightmare, but it doesn’t work. He really is stuck in another dimension where one of the most important people in his life died. He knows this isn’t his Y/N, it’s another version of her but his brain is taking some time to catch up. Peter lets himself cry, he cries for what feels like hours and he’s run out of tears. Not only that but his spider sense makes him look up and be alert of his surroundings once again. Wiping his eyes and putting his mask back on, Peter follows the feeling. He leaves the graveyard and walks down towards Brooklyn until he’s in front of a diner. There’s a teenager there, he has dark curly hair and is wearing a too-small Spiderman. He’s also sitting next to an older man, who just ate a burger in two bites. The man is also wearing a Spiderman suit, but he’s paired it with an olive trench coat and sweatpants. Huh? Peter goes in and his spider sense tingles again, making both Spidermen look up.

“You’re like me,” They say in unison.

The older man stands up and places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey man, are you okay?”

“Why am I here?” Peter asks instead of answering.

“Come and sit down, it’s been a weird day for all of us.” He guides him to the table and pushes a plate of fries towards him. “This is Miles,” He motions towards the dark haired teenager who extends his hands.

“Hey, I’m Miles. Sort of the Spiderman of this dimension.” Peter takes his hands and shakes it once before he lets go.

“I’m Peter Parker.” He says and the older man chuckles. “What?”

“I’m Peter B. Parker, the Spiderman of another dimension.” Is all he says extending his hand towards Peter who shakes it briefly. “Like I said, weird day.”

Peter takes his mask off and looks at Miles. “You’re the Spiderman of this dimension? What about Y/N? What happened to Y/N?” His voice cracks on the last question but he doesn’t care.

“Oh man, this is probably so confusing for you. I’m assuming you’re married to Y/N in your dimension as well?” Miles asks.

“Not married, she’s my girlfriend.” Peter shakes his head. “We’re married in this dimension?”

Miles nods, “Yeah, you spoke at her funeral and all. Kingpin killed her last night because she was trying to destroy his collider, I- I was there and she gave me the override key. I promised her I’ll destroy the collider for her, I need to keep that promise.”

Peter closes his eyes and nods, after taking a deep breath he opens them and addresses both Spidermen in front of him. “I’ll help you, for this Y/N and to get back to my Y/N.”

The older Peter smiles and nods, “We’re going to Alchemax, to steal the code we need to fix the override key.”

“Fix it?” Peter asks confused, rubbing his tired eyes from crying. If he feels tired and broken, he wonders how tired Y/N’s husband feels.

“Yeah, it broke.” Miles grimaces but Peter shrugs.

“It’s okay, we’ll make a new on–” Peter stops talking as he glitches again, the same happening to Peter B in front of him. “Man, that hurt.”

“We need to go. You guys need to get back to your dimensions.” Miles says standing up. “We can swing to Alchemax, you guys can show me the ropes.”

Peter B laughs, “Swing there? You have a lot to learn kid. Come on other Peter, let’s get us home.”

Peter stands up, putting his mask back on and following the other two spidermen, it’s still a lot to process but if it gets him back to you he’ll just go along with whatever Peter B’s plan is.

---- 

idk if its good or if anyone wants to be tagged but hey I liked the concept 

@hollandharrison @madmadmilk @angelhaz11 @parkerpuff @peterplanet @keepingupwiththeparkers 💖

[feverwritingandtextposts]

Summary:

All the cool monsters make it to the front page of City S Newspaper. And Garou's going to join them, even if he has to kidnap a reporter to do it.

Look man I saw this funny AU post and i HAD to write this i was possessed. 

As usual you can follow the link to read it or read it under the cut below. 

"And so that's why i skipped the math class in my 7th grade- hey. Hey. Are you listening?"

Badd turned his head up to the voice, groggy and tired. He gave a non-committal grunt in response. The man clucked his tongue in annoyance.

"Hm. You're not writing anything down so-"

Badd raised an eyebrow at that, glaring down the man in front of him. Tall, imposing, with the most hideous hairstyle Badd's ever seen, the man loomed overhead, paused in his pacing to stare down at him.

"How the fuck am i supposed to write anything when my FUCKING HANDS ARE TIED?" Badd bellowed, fully sick and tired of this nonsense.

Personally, Badd had no clue why this bastard chose to kidnap him out of all the reporters out there. He's just self aware enough to know that he's not exactly the easiest person to get along with in general. If this dude really wanted the world to 'understand his monster aesthetic and goals through the newspaper' he'd probably get better cooperation from some mousy bumbling reporter that he can, actually, successfully intimidate.

Maybe Badd looked like an easy target because he'd been passed out after drinking with a interviewee. In his defense, the office promised to pay, and Badd was never one to turn down some day drinking.

Damn, what even happened to that guy... Did this fucker kill him when Badd got kidnapped?

The man, Garou or Gatou or Geko something like that, narrowed his eyes at him. It looked like he'd wanted to seem contemptuous and intimidating, but Badd thought it made him just look pouty, like an ill tempered child.

That dude's probably fine.

"You could've just said so then," the man snapped, reaching over.

Badd jerked back from him, the movement teethering him dangerously on the flimsy chair he was tied against.

"Ey ey, hands off bastard. This coat's Gucci and i dunno where your damn hands have been," Badd hissed.

Clearly offended, the man drew back, lips pulling back to show a sharp array of teeth. "I wash my hands you little shit."

"That's what all the crooks say."

The man looked stunned for a moment, face still stuck in that half angry half incredulous grimace, as if shocked that Badd was just being so deliberately uncooperative, when he'd gone to all this trouble of holding him hostage. Held aloft in front of him, the man's hands balled up into fists.

Briefly, Badd wondered if he was finally going to get punched.

Badd was kinda looking forward to it. Its been a while since he got punched anyway.

But instead, the man seemed to reign himself in, folding his arms and drawing up to his fullest height, lips drawn in a sneer.

"Your coat's ugly anyway. Gucci? You wasted your money on that crap."

Wow really? He's really gonna get his fashion sense roasted by a man in ratty joggers and old people slippers.

"Fuck you," Badd snarled venomously.

Gatou (no Gakou.. Garou?) raised an eyebrow, seemingly unconcerned.

"Are you mad? Over that?"

Badd struggled against his bindings, the chair screeching against the concrete as he moved.

"Seriously?"asked the man. "You weren't even that mad when you woke up tied to the chair."

Badd paused in his attempts to rip off the thick ropes to shoot the man a scathing look.

"Like hell I'm gonna listen to you insult MY coat when you're in those disgusting pants."

Now looking absolutely confused, the taller man looked down at his faded grey joggers.

"What's wrong with my pants? They're great for movement and kicking." As if to demonstrate that point, or intimidate Badd, he started kicking the air, each kick higher than before, the shock-wave blowing wind and dust into Badd's face.

Man, Badd hated guys like him. Just because they're hot they think they can care fuck all about fashion and still look good.

In this guy's case he'd be right but Badd's never gonna admit that.

Badd was about to tell him exactly where he could stick his ugly pants before the man slammed his foot down, loud and annoying.

"Wait, forget that, I still need you to continue writing that article. Where did I stop?"

Damnit, Badd was hoping he'd have forgotten that by now.

The man propped his chin against his fist, deep in thought.

Maybe if Badd was lucky he'd realise he'd told Badd every fucking insignificant detail about his (admittedly kinda sad) life story and let him go.

The man slammed his fist into his open palm in realisation. "I can't remember, so lets just take it from the start again!"

This man was going to give him a fucking aneurysm.

"What the HELL man! C'mon dude lay off it," Badd whined, writhing on the chair in annoyance.

"Maybe I'll be done faster if your sorry ass doesn't keep INTERRUPTING me," Garou snarled back, resuming his pacing as he prepared to re-recount his shitty life story.

The afternoon light that streamed through the high broken windows was starting to dim, casting long shadows across the abandoned warehouse they were in. The day was beginning to end. Zenko's going to be out of cram school soon, and she'd be waiting for him to pick her up.

It was starting to get colder too, Badd could see the puffs of air coming from his breath. Did Zenko bring her scarf?

"Hey man aren't you done yet? I gotta go soon, I need to pick my lil sis up," Badd called out to the slouching man, who had skulked a way off ahead, ranting about why elementary school kids have the propensity for cruelty.

Pausing in his tirade, he stalked back over.

"Fuck are you talking about? You're literally tied to a chair."

"Yeah I KNOW. That's why I'm asking if you're done, I need to go pick my sis up."

Shaggy white hair bouncing, Garou shook his head firmly. "What, no you can't just leave. I KIDNAPPED you."

"Yeah, I noticed. And how long are you gonna keep me here then? The fucking sun's already going down."

"Its only been three and a half hours," protested Garou, his thin face settling into its permanent scowl. "How are you going to write a good article about me if you don't know my entire backstory?"

Badd groaned loudly, head tilting back in exasperation. In front of him, the man didn't move, sharp golden eyes boring into Badd.

"If you be a good boy and listen, this will go by a lot faster, and you can be out to write that article and pick up your sister or whatever. Or, I could keep you here with me for much MUCH longer."

"Ugh..." Badd rolled his eyes at the obvious warning to behave. Really, did he LOOK like the type to just buckle down and keep quiet? After realising that Garou was still standing there, eyes alert and anticipating a response, he gave a resigned sigh.

"ALRIGHT, fucking hell, FINE," snapped Badd, a little too loudly, but the bastard smiled at that, lips pulling into a smarmy smirk that would have been ridiculously hot if Badd wasn't so ready punch him.

He really hoped Zenko brought her scarf. This was gonna take a while.

Luckily for the both of them, Badd was an expert in the sacred art of pretending to pay attention. Eyes glassy, he watched the man pace up and down, ever so often making a grunt or hum of agreement to whatever was being said.

Those pants Garou was wearing really DO look great for movement. They clung perfectly to that tight ass. Speaking of, now that Badd really got a look at him, this guy was toned to hell. He mentioned being 'the world's best martial artist' or something, but damn. That turtleneck he was wearing looked like it was on its last breath of life clinging to those muscles. Dude's lucky he's nice to look at because Badd'll be bored to death otherwise.

Night had fully fallen by the time the white haired man decided to pause for breath.

Badd hasn't been in the reporting biz long enough to be considered an expert, but he doubts that he really needed THAT much info from the guy to write an article on him. Usually, articles about villains are pretty short anyway.

Stuff like "Wanted: this bastard! Contact the Association if you have information" or "See this man? Better mind your own business and find somewhere to hide!". Short, sweet, to the point. Just what criminal warning articles are supposed to be. Where the hell was his supposed to insert the entire part about this loser getting beat up in elementary school? Badd's not a damn literary expert. He only got the job because of how hardy he was, and how dangerous journalist jobs can end up.

Maybe he can ask one of the interns to help him write it...

"Do you have all of that?" asked Garou (Badd's sure now, the fucker talked about himself as 'Garou the Human Monster' at least 11 times).

Badd nodded quickly, hoping to god that he was done talking about himself. Garou, perhaps having believed Badd's performance, perhaps simply needing a space to talk about... all that... seemed absurdly happy.

"Okay! You better write a good article!" Garou ordered, exuberant smile lighting up his usually swarthy face, making it look kinder and sweeter. Like how he might have been if he hadn't been weighed down by all that spite.

Huh, Badd thought, he was actually kinda cute.

"Right, don't move."

Never mind, scratch that.

Badd last remembers a throbbing pain on the back of his neck, as if someone had smacked him, and wakes up alone at a bus stop.

"Human Monster Gatou on the loose," read out Taero, swinging his legs on the park bench. Beside him, the white haired man peeled an eye open from where he sat slouched back on the bench, head propped up on the back.

"Whazzat? Kid, you're old enough to read properly right? Pronounce people's names right."

"Huh, but Uncle, that's what it says." Reaching over, Taero pushes the newspaper right into Garou's face for him to read it himself.

Golden eyes scanning the headline, Taero barely had time to sit back down before Garou shot up from the bench, snatching the newspaper out of his hand in the process. Wordlessly Garou stood there, newspaper crumpled in his grip, eyes boring into the page.

Taero knew that this Uncle was pretty prone to sudden and confusing mood shifts, but even for him this was kinda weird.

"It's pretty scary isn't Uncle? We should be careful," Taero says tentatively, peering at him from the safety of the bench.

"That's right. Real scary," muttered Garou, face absolutely murderous.

He can't believe that fucking reporter spelled his name wrong.

He's gonna kill him.

[master-sass-blast]

Strong as Stone --Part Sixty-Two, Epilogue Three.

This is it, folks. The final epilogue.

Thank you so much to everyone who’s been reading for the past year and few odd months. Your support means more to me than you’ll ever know.

Rating: G for fluff and domestic stuffs.

Taglist: @the-last-hair-bender, @skysynclair19

Two Years Later

 There was, once, a time where her morning alarm was the thing to wake her up each day, save for an emergency mission or council meeting. A time where she could sleep in on her off days, let her body wake up at its own leisure.

Of course, Okoye thought tiredly as she woke up to the sound of hers and M’Baku’s bedroom door swinging open, that was a time before kids.

There was the sound of little feet pattering against the wooden floor, then M’Baku grunted as he lifted Dayo –who had recently turned five—into bed with them. “Good morning, mntana oyimtombazana.”

Dayo smiled wordlessly as she settled between her parents, latching onto M’Baku’s arm as she wriggled under the blankets.

“Dayo! You were supposed to ask if we could go to the gardens!”

Okoye cracked one eye open and saw Zarah peering around the door frame into their room. At just seven years old, their second eldest child had transformed into quite the little mastermind, often roping her younger sister into whatever ideas and schemes she cooked up. “If you want something, Zarah, you can ask for it yourself. Don’t make your sister do it for you.”

Zarah huffed a little, but relented nonetheless. “Can Dayo and I go to the gardens?”

“Can you ask politely?” M’Baku fired back, voice still thick with sleep.

“Can Dayo and I please go to the gardens?”

“Yes, you may.”

“Keep an eye on your sister,” Okoye added as she helped Dayo climb over her and onto the floor.

“Yes, mama!”

M’Baku sighed as Zarah and Dayo took off running down the hall. “I miss sleeping in.”

“Just wait until they’re teenagers,” Okoye grunted. “We won’t see them until noon, just like Khari.”

M’Baku chuckled tiredly and turned over so he was facing her. “Won’t that be wonderful.”

“Hmm, yes,” Okoye murmured sarcastically as M’Baku drew her into his arms. “Two hormonal, moody teenage girls that’ll be each other’s and our throats day in, day out. I can’t wait.”

“Yes, but we’ll be able to sleep in.” M’Baku kissed her softly, fingers tracing down the line of her spine. “What do we have to do today?”

“We’re heading down to Birnin Zana for the council meeting,” Okoye said, shivering slightly as his hand smoothed over her hip. “And I’m helping train the latest batch of Dora Milaje recruits.”

“Right, but we don’t have to leave until noon,” M’Baku pointed out as he slowly rolled her onto her back. “We have time.”

Okoye chuckled as he started trailing kisses down her neck. “We have maybe twenty minutes until Dayo and Zarah decide they’re hungry and want breakfast –or until they break something.”

“We’ve worked with less before.”

Okoye grinned and shoved on his shoulder. “Get to work, then.”

M’Baku grinned back up at her. “My pleasure.”

 ***

 The ride down to Birnin Zana, no matter how many times she’d taken it over the years, was never anything short of breathtaking. The way the mountains gave way to the jungles and plains of Wakanda, how the glittering skyline of Birnin Zana drew ever closer, watching how the main river that coursed through Wakanda bent and shifted… everything looked new every single time, even though she must’ve rode along the rail system well over five hundred times in the past twelve years.

“I never get tired of this,” Okoye murmured as M’Baku draped one of his arms over her shoulders.

M’Baku chuckled and nodded to Zarah, who had twisted around in her seat so she could stare out the window. “Neither does she.”

 ***

 Shuri and Dewani met them at the station in Birnin Zana. Dewani scooped a delighted Dayo into her arms, while Shuri knelt down to hug Zarah.

“You two are sure you’re good to watch them?” M’Baku asked, forehead creasing with concern.

“Of course!” Shuri insisted, waving her hand reassuringly. “We’re going to take them to lunch, and then we’ll head to one of the parks.”

“We’ve got this,” Dewani said as she settled Dayo on her hip. “We’ll meet you at the palace when the council meeting’s over.”

M’Baku nodded, then slung an arm around Khari’s shoulder as Dewani and Shuri walked off with Dayo and Zarah in tow. “Are you ready for your first council meeting?”

“I think so,” Khari said as he dug around in the satchel he’d brought with him. “I packed a few books to help pass the time, and if I go through those I brought something to write in—”

“You can’t read through the meeting,” Okoye said gently as she worked on holding back an amused smile. “You’re sitting in to learn; you need to pay attention.”

Khari’s mouth stretched into a grimace. “Well. That sucks.”

M’Baku chuckled and clasped their son’s shoulder. “You’ll do fine. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“You complain about council meetings all the time!”

“That’s because your father is a drama queen,” Okoye said as she kissed their son on the cheek. “You’ll be fine.”

M’Baku bent down and kissed her briefly. “We’ll see you later, right?”

Okoye nodded. “Once I’m done training the recruits, I’ll head to the palace.” She smiled as she watched M’Baku and Khari head off, then turned and headed towards the training center for the Dora Milaje recruits.

 ***

 “Relax your back,” Okoye said as she helped one of the newer recruits with her stance. “And don’t hold your hands so low on the spear; you’ll have a harder time controlling it that way.”

It’d been a transformation, going from General to retiring. At first, she’d felt cagey and off balance without the day in, day out routine, the workload, and the near constant demands of her time and energy.

She’d found her routine, though. As M’Baku’s wife and a retired General, she still held enough clout to sit in on various council meetings and advise T’Challa. Training the new recruits had helped as well, to say nothing of the demands that motherhood put on her daily life—

“Okoye!”

And, of course, staying connected with her friends.

She made sure the recruit was good to go, then stepped away and off the mat and greeted Aneka with a massive hug. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” Aneka stepped back, clasping Okoye’s shoulders as she beamed. “You look well! How’re the kids?”

“Good. Zarah’s turned into a little scheming mastermind, but everything else is relatively calm.”

Aneka shook her head and chuckled. “She’ll be unstoppable when she gets older.”

“You’re telling me. Where are Ayo and Djabi?”

“Council meeting.”

Okoye snapped her fingers as she nodded. “That’s right. I’m so used to seeing the three of you together wherever you go.”

“It’s been an adjustment,” Aneka admitted with a sigh. “But it’s been good.”

They talked a little further, until one of the recruits called out for Okoye’s help.

“You’ll be at the dinner tonight, right?” Okoye asked before she stepped back onto the training mat.

Aneka nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll see you there.”

 ***

 Dinner was held at the palace later that evening, and could only be said to be a large affair because of how much food was eaten.

But, when you have three Jabari warriors, three Dora Milaje soldiers, five growing children, and one heart-shaped herb enhanced King to feed, you can expect to go through a lot of food, Okoye reflected as she sipped at her glass of wine.

T’Challa, Nakia, and their two children –Bohlale and her younger brother, Amare, who had recently turned ten—sat at one end of the table with Ramonda. Dewani and Shuri sat next to them, at the request of Dayo and Zarah. M’Baku sat next to them to make sure they avoided any spill-related mishaps, and Okoye and Khari sat at the other end of the table to make sure they had two steady sets of hands to help pass various dishes around. The remainder of the seats were taken up by Ayo, Aneka, O’Chenga, and Djabi.

All in all, it was a relaxed affair. A close bond had formed between the group over the past twelve years, meaning that conversation flowed easily. Khari and Bohlale recounted the council meeting for everyone who hadn’t been there –and the two also had some strong opinions about how it had gone, which made for a bit of an argument before M’Baku and T’Challa managed to reign in their respective teenagers—and Ayo, Aneka, Djabi, Nakia, and Okoye spent a good chunk of time talking about some of the latest Dora Milaje and War Dog recruits.

Towards the end of dinner, though, the conversation lulled—

Then Shuri shot a smile at Dewani and cleared her throat. “Dewani and I have an announcement to make.”

“You brought extra dessert,” Bohlale fired off, which prompted a few snorts from the rest of the table.

“Sad to say, no,” Dewani said. “But… we’re gonna have a kid. We decided to adopt.”

“We finish signing all the paperwork next month, and then we get to bring her home,” Shuri said as she fished a few pictures out of her purse. “Her name’s Arjana, she just turned seven.”

Various coos went up around the table as they all admired various pictures of the smiling, gap-toothed little girl.

“Congratulations,” Nakia said, grinning at Shuri and Dewani. “That’s amazing.”

“You two will be good parents,” M’Baku added as he handed one of the pictures off to Khari. “No doubt about it.”

“Absolutely,” Bohlale agreed. “Hey, we should celebrate. You know what makes for a good celebration? Dessert.”

T’Challa gave his eldest a half-stern, half-amused look as everyone else laughed. “We’re having a nice moment right now.”

“Hey, I’m not disagreeing! All I’m saying is that dessert would make it even nicer!”

“She’s not wrong,” Shuri reasoned when T’Challa pinched the bridge of his nose.

He snorted and shook his head. “Fine. Let’s have dessert.”

***

 The Next Day

 The plains of the Borderland tribe stretched out in vast, golden expanses, broken up only by the occasional tree or clusters of houses and rhino pens. The sky was flawlessly blue, interrupted only by the shining sun that hung high in the sky.

The tranquility outside only belied the utter chaos inside the house behind her, though. She and M’Baku had taken their kids to visit Okoye’s biological family for a family reunion –and with a new generation of kids running around, it had quickly devolved into chaos (that Zarah had managed to make herself the queen of, go figure).

As such, she’d stepped outside for a moment just to collect her wits and give her ears a brief reprieve from the jumble of conversation and ecstatic screeching.

There’d been a time where she’d mostly been her own island. Yes, she’d had Ayo, Aneka, Djabi, and her other friends and sisters in the Dora Milaje, but she’d spent a great deal of time alone. Her nights, good portions of her downtime, sometimes her days if she and her friends were running on opposite schedules.

She’d been a stone –especially after W’Kabi’s betrayal. She’d retreated inside herself to making surviving the emotional fallout possible.

And then she’d connected with M’Baku. He’d drawn her out of her shell, introduced her to a world she’d only heard vague stories about growing up, and expanded her circle of people in ways she hadn’t thought possible. She’d had to learn how to balance her “stone” self and “human” self, and then again when she’d had children so she could be the mother they needed and deserved, but it’d been worth every single ounce of effort.

And now…

She was retired from being General. She had a family and her friends and work that made her life meaningful. She was still occasionally a stone –it came in handy when she had to discipline deviant recruits—but she spent most of her time completely and fully human.

Vulnerable. Emotional. Strong.

She looked up as the door next to the bench she was sitting on swung open and smiled as M’Baku stepped out of the house and closed it behind him. “Had enough?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted with a smile as he sat down next to her. “And I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m alright,” she reassured him as he kissed the top of her head and put an arm around her shoulders. “Just thinking about the past several years. About how things have changed.” She smiled up at him. “It’s been good.”

“It has,” he agreed before kissing her. “This does seem very familiar, though,” he added when the kiss ended. “All we’re missing is a tree to sit under.”

Okoye chuckled as she caught his meaning and leaned against him. “I don’t think we’re missing anything at all.”

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Sun

Part 2

Part 1

(Bruises,    Haven)

Loki x Reader fluff

I decided to write an extension. This is pure experimentation, my dudes. Your feedback is more than welcome. I actually could use some right now. Use my Ask box as much as you like.

Warnings: None...unless you count second-hand embarrassment.

Word Count:...I give up

(This gif doesn't belong to me. Credits to the owner.)

"Oh my God! For the last time Peter I don't know those movies! How are we supposed to work together and stay alive when I don't even know half the stuff you mak-AAH!"

You were thrown into the air before your back felt itself being scratched by the ground.

"Eyes on the enemy, Y/N!" Steve shouted as he blocked Bucky's punches and sent his shield flying around to take down Scott's Ant-Man form towering over Clint.

"Sorry, Captain," you said, getting back up on your feet. Wanda saw you and readied her hands as she waved them around to send a string of plasmic pulses shooting towards you but you blocked them in time, sending them back on to her and Sam.

"Son of a-,"

"Language." Peter webbed Sam's wings and weapon slots as he swung over him and on to Scott's arm.

"Peter, the back!" Steve shouted as he pinned Bucky down, with his arms tightened around his best friend's neck.

You saw Steve watching Peter, never feeling Bucky get the knife out of his belt.

Instinct took over you as you curled up your hands in a fist, gathering power around it and screaming, "Steve, move!" and punching it through the air towards Bucky, taking him, Sam and Scott down like a bunch of multi-sized dominoes.

An air horn broke the deafening silence.

"Pathetic. You all got beaten up by one person at the same time. Why does Tony even keep you here." Loki's dead toned sarcasm ringed through the practice grounds, receiving multiple curses at once- which he quite enjoyed for reasons known to him.

"Good job with the final blow, Y/N." Steve patted you on the back, allowing you to catch your breath as you picked up his shield and handed it to him.

"You know I really wanted to end it with 'Eyes on the enemy, Captain' but SOMEONE RUINED MY MOMENT!" you shouted loud enough so that the God of Mischief could hear it and roll his eyes at you, knowing full well that you knew he had blown that horn on purpose.

"Oh! And sorry for calling you Steve, Captain. I just saw the knife and threw all sense out of the window."

It felt weird now as the adrenaline had washed off and you realised you had never addressed the Captain so casually before.

"It's fine," Steve said, giving you his warmest smile as you both headed to the weapons deposit corner to return your protective gear and comms, "I'd rather you call me Steve than Rogers or Captain. I'm tired of the formal greetings from you guys anyway."

"Cool! Keeping it warm and casual from now on." You said, smiling at the idea of getting to call the Avenger like any of your family members.

"Speaking of casual. May I ask what's going on between you and Loki?"

The question caught you off-guard, allowing you to blurt out a flabbergasted "W-wh-aa-haaa-?"

"He's asking if you two... Fondue-d?"

Peter came down, balancing himself on his rope, taking you both by surprise.

"Wait, how did you-? And that's not what I meant, Y/N, I'm so sorry." a flushed faced Steve looked between him and you.

"Mr Stark told us, who in turn was told about the whole fondue thing by Ms Carter. Actually, it slipped into the conversation when he was trying to have 'the talk' with me and couldn't say the s-word. We all found it funny." Peter could not wipe the wide grin on his face.

Steve turned to you wide-eyed looking for some ray of hope that all of this wasn't true.

"Yeah, that happened," you ripped it out fast, not allowing any room for a doubt.

"Tony! We need to talk!" Steve shouted as he stormed off into the building, leaving you and Parker giggling.

"So..." Peter was still hanging there upside down, swinging lightly as he looked at you with teasing glint in his eyes.

"So?" You threw back casually, not letting him smell that you knew what he was looking for.

"Did you guys...fonduuuuue?" He teased, swinging a bit wildly towards you as he exaggerated his words.

"Peter, stop! Why are you so interested in us...fondue-ing...why are you interested anyways?!" You said, tearing out your gloves and knee-pads, trying not to make eye contact with your friend while talking about sex. You two had often talked a lot about the s-word out loud, but it was always in context with jokes, serious discussions, discussions you two thought were serious and while watching Discovery Channel. This was different than those times, not to mention something you'd like to keep private.

"What does it have to do with me?" Peter had been offended by that question. He dangled closer to you with a serious expression on his face as his brows furrowed and his eyes and his lips pressed in dismay.

"Do you have any idea what the last six months have been like for me?"

"Wai-"

"Shush, girl, I'm talking. Do you have any idea what it was like to see you and Loki emanate the true ship vibe the moment your right hook met his jaw the first time you two met?"

"Wow! Someone's been upgrading their vocabulary and boy is it not the chemical names of lab-made polymers! And what the hell do you me-"

"Bup-bup-bup." He shut your lips with his free hand as he continued.

"You two had been dripping in sexual tension from the moment you laid eyes on each other and THAT'S COnd THAT'sCOMING FROM nd THAT'sCOnd THAT'sCOMING FROM MEME-" he pressed your lips shut tighter as you tried to speak and continued, "and don't get me started on your arguments. Him throwing his on-point sarcasm and critical thoughts like a dodge ball and you taking them like some professional player and reading right through them as if you'd done this before. I mean, you have, given your history. And then being patient with him, surprising him countless times. Do you know how much the two of you drained me emotionally? All you two had to do was be in the same room and I had to restrain myself from making the two of you sit down face to face and shouting 'Just kiss already goddamit' as loud as possible. So no wonder I was over the moon when you kissed Mr Friggason- yes, that's what Loki and I agreed I could call him- and I'm waiting when you two will make it official. Like holding-hands-in-the-public-going-full-PDA official, okay. Because not knowing is killing my ship here, sister. Big time!"

Peter let go of your lips, and the blood rushed to your cheeks, burning them, wishing they could spread to your entire body and engulf you in flames.

"No, they haven't done anything yet. I can still sense their sexual tension for miles." A voice came from inside your ear.

Your comms had been active the entire time and Natasha thought it was necessary for the entire team to know about this vital piece of information.

"What the f-" you tore away the comms, hurting your ear and tried to walk away as quickly as possible but not before you hit Peter with a look of disgust.

Everyone who'd been practising in the compound had broken down into giggles and tried their best to suppress it the moment you came face to face with all of them.

"Come on guys! Give her break." Scott rested a hand on his hips and waved the free one around, brushing off the air.

"Thank you for being the adult around here," you said as your voice mocked everyone else presents there.

"No, I meant to give you a break so you actually get down to doing something with your... boyfriend? Bae? I don't what you kids call it these days."

You raised your hand, palm pointing up in the sky in a 'What the fuck, Scott?' motion as everyone around you snickered.

"I sometimes feel bad for Hope, you know. She's dating a twelve-year-old. Your poor...girlfriend? Babe? I don't know what you two call yourself in your...relationship." The smirk on your lips didn't budge as you could see Scott shift from one foot to another.

"Okay, that was harsh. We are dating, we haven't defined anything yet, and that was harsh."

Natasha patted Scott on the back as he tried to find his composure.

"In all seriousness guys, could we please stop? I mean, technically, in God years Loki's what...seventeen right now. And I'm like four years older than him. In human years, that is. So please, let's just not talk about the fondue-ing. He isn't even an adult yet."

"Who isn't an adult?" Loki's voice called from right behind you. You cursed internally for the times you weren't a fan his teleportation powers when he would plant himself purposely behind you and watch you jump and turn around with your fists ready to land a punch.

What you did know-and, oddly, liked- was how his gaze would never falter as he would watch your stance fall, fists opening and your body losing its tension on seeing him, making his eyes smile every single time without fail.

"You," Clint called out from behind Loki as he sat on a makeshift boulder, resetting the compound climate and vegetation on his tablet.

"You are not an adult and you're not supposed to do stuff that kids won't," he said, never looking up from his tablet.

In one sentence, Clint had shut everyone up, leaving no room for anymore teasing.

Sam and Scott quietly slipped away to the weapons deposit corner as Wanda and Nat shifted to your either side while Bucky and Peter moved beside Clint.

You made a mental note to get Clint as many free coupons as possible to all his favourite restaurants and gift shops.

Loki wore a confused look on his face and Clint sensed it being directed towards him, nudging Peter in response.

"Right. Sorry." Peter raised his brows and brought his hands together, ready to explain to the class what was going on.

"We calculated your age on the human year scale and you are just as old as me. Maybe even a bit younger. And by we, I mean Y/N and I. By calculated I mean we came across the math. On the internet. But we did verify it ourselves." He ended proudly.

Before Loki could say anything, the sky cracked and thunder came down, the compound, burning the grass where it struck

"Come on man! I literally just carpeted that area." Clint groaned out loud as the bots, who'd just rolled out the greens, threw rocks at the God of thunder.

Thor tried to ignore the bots as he walked towards your small gathering and greeted everyone with a huge smile.

"Everyone, I have news. Asgard has been restored to its former glory. As the new King, I invite you all to the birth-day celebrations and finally show you how the Asgardians party." "Also because I am being coronated." He added sheepishly.

"Yes! Avengers vacation to Asgard! Avengecation!!" Peter chimed in before pausing wide-eyed, being hit with a sudden compulsory thought. "Wait. I'll have to ask aunt May."

"Stark already asked her. You will be joining everyone else." Loki said, allowing Peter to jump in the air with excitement and ran back into the facility to get ready.

"Yeah, that's all good but," Wanda cut in, looking at Thor, "I remember it clearly it's not your birthday any time soon."

Thor chuckled. "It's not mine. It's Loki's. We're celebrating my brother tonight!"

Thor said as he playfully punched Loki and wrapped his arm around him, pulling him close, drawing nothing but a sharp exhale of his cold breath.

"Oh!" Sam and Scott came back- and as they would seem to say- right on time for him to mention, "So, Loki, does that mean you are turning eighteen today, in the human years scale?" as he raised an eyebrow towards you, forcing you to relive your life in flashes to find out what was it you did in the past that has come back to haunt you as moments of embarrassment.

"Yes," Loki confirmed as he looked at Clint with a slight bow, "I am," before turning back to you with a sly smile and a wink, making every inch of your body shudder- surprisingly, both in fear and anticipation.

"Yay. Happy birthday," you trembling voice squeaked, giving him a thumbs up and you a couple thousands of seconds to bury yourself in anxious thoughts as to what was going to-or not going to- happen tonight.

[dracosollicitus]

35 do you regret it + 44 I still remember the way you taste

I’m guessing this is Damerey?! I’ll just go with Damerey. 

Modern AU – Angst 

Word Count: 2848 words

“Don’t talk to him, peanut.” Rey set her Solo cup down and glared at her best friend. Finn gave her an almost apologetic smile and held his hands up defensively. “It’s been what, three months since you’ve talked to him? And the last time didn’t go very well.”

Ah yes. The infamous “Rey Kenobi Dances on a Table and then Cries in a Waffle House” debacle of ‘18. Who could forget?

“I’m not going to talk to him,” Rey said, examining her green nail polish. “I don’t have anything to say to him.”

That was a lie. She had plenty of things to say to him. But she didn’t want to say all the things she had stored up inside of herself, not to his face. No, those things, those hurts, were best reserved for the safety of her shower, her ranting angrily into the falling water, arguing with an invisible person who wasn’t there. Those were the best kinds of arguments, the kinds you could control. 

Rose Tico sidled up next to them and slipped her arm through Finn’s. “Poe Dameron’s here!” She said excitedly. “Can you believe -” She cut herself off, catching a glimpse of Finn’s face as he shook her head desperately at her. “Oh- I’m - sorry?”

“Don’t be,” Rey assured her, smiling at their newest addition to the friend group. Rose started dating Finn four months ago, six months after – 

There was no reason for her to know, after all.

“It is exciting that he’s here. Good for the town.” Rey frowned out the back door of the Organa-Solo house. Leia and Han were at their summer home, and Ben threw world-famous parties in the basement in their absence (and no one commented on the fact that a thirty year old man was still throwing ragers in his parents’ basement, if only because Han Solo was the coolest person of all time and could still do a keg stand, and who wouldn’t want to live with Leia Organa?).

“He won two Grammys, right?” Rey’s attention was broken by Rose’s innocent question.

Rey liked Rose, and she really had no problem with Poe being here, but she couldn’t talk about him so casually. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “Three,” Rey said simply. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She pushed past Rose and Finn and walked outside. It was an oddly cool summer’s night, and Rey sighed with relief, finally away from the noise and chaos of the party inside. The backyard was spacious, with plenty of trees to get lost in - up ahead was a swingset that she used to play on with Ben (alright, so he pushed her on the swings begrudgingly; it was hard to find common ground when you were eight and your guardian’s godson was thirteen). Rey sat down on the left swing and kicked her heels off. She pushed off and pumped her legs in and out, soothing and familiar in its rhythm. 

Rey tilted her head back and regarded the stars, her favorite pastime of childhood, bridging into adulthood. She closed her eyes and continued to swing, letting her head fall forward, her hair tumbling around her shoulders and in front of her face, both ignoring and leaning into the empty, horrible cavern in her chest, threatening to swallow her whole, the rip in herself that had been there for ten and a half months, ever since -

“I thought you’d be out here.” 

Perfect.

“I thought you’d stay in there,” Rey said, not opening her eyes. She adjusted her grip on the rope of her swing and continued to kick her feet lazily. He had the audacity to laugh. Bastard. 

She didn’t look at him, but she heard him walk through the grass and settle on the swing next to her, at her right. “Let me try again. Hey.”

Rey snorted and ignored him for a moment, still swinging.

“How’ve you been?” 

Rey stalled herself, dragging her feet along the ground until she came to a stop. She tossed her hair out of her face angrily (and he used to say it’s like you’re shaking your mane out, look at you, wild thing, God, you’re perfect, and while saying those things, he’d kiss her forehead and temple and cheek and jaw and lips and - ) and looked at him at last. 

“Really?” Rey said. She didn’t know what her face looked like, but whatever he saw, Poe was inspired to look down at his feet. “That’s your opener? How’ve you been?” She scoffed and scraped her fingernail along the painted plywood of her seat. “Two bets on how I’ve been, Dameron. I don’t need to ask how you’ve been, though. I can open any teen magazine and find out.”

“That shit isn’t real, Rey.” Poe sounded so tired, and for a moment, she felt bad that she’d lost her temper. For a moment. “That isn’t me.”

“So you aren’t dating Jennifer Lawrence?” Rey said, trying to sound bored, but really sounding furious. “You didn’t break up Brie Larson’s engagement? Weren’t spotted canoodling with an Instagram star in SoHo?”

“Stop it,” Poe whispered. “Please, Rey.”

Rey stood and walked away from the swings, but she made it ten feet before she spun around to face him. There was no excuse for her yelling at him. She wasn’t drunk, wasn’t even tipsy. She was just hurt, and with the childhood she’d had, before Uncle Ben came to get her - it had taught her to hurt others before they could see how badly they’ve hurt you.

“Do you regret it?” She demanded. Poe looked at her, the only light in the backyard from the moon and the distant porchlight behind her. A shadow fell across his face, carving his handsome features in half. Maybe that’s why he looked so - “Do you ever regret leaving town? Leaving me?” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she hated herself for it, hated herself even more than she hated him.

Poe cleared his throat, and even in the darkness, Rey could see how his knuckles were white, from where he clutched at the wood of his swing. His broad shoulders - even broader now, probably because he had a nutritionist and a personal trainer and whatever fuckall they set up for you when you went on tour with a platinum album - spilled over the boundaries of the ropes, his muscular thighs a little too wide for the seat. Poe stared at her, his gaze boundless and broken, and Rey felt whatever was left inside of her, whatever strength she still had, crumble. 

“Forget it,” she said. She forced herself to smile at him. “Forget I said anything, Dameron. Enjoy the party.” Rey turned around and wrapped her arms around her middle and walked inside, face burning with humiliation. She should have listened to Finn’s advice, should have walked away the moment he sat down, she should have - 

“The second I walked away from you, I knew.” 

Rey didn’t turn around, but she did stop walking. Poe’s voice was coming from behind her, but it sounded closer, like he’d gotten up out of the swing. He didn’t continue, so Rey coughed slightly, refusing to wipe at the tears forming in her eyes. “Knew what?”

“That I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.” Rey squeezed her eyes shut against it, a single tear falling and cutting down her cheek. He didn’t need prompting to continue this time. “I walked away from you, and it was like a physical pain. I was stupid, and I hated myself the second I suggested we end things. Because why the fuck would I end things with you? I gave myself a lot of reasons, but they didn’t make sense the second I walked away from you. Because why did I leave? To make your life easier, so you didn’t have to wait around on me while I toured? To make my own life more convenient? Because let me tell you, Rey, listening to every voicemail I have saved of yours, over and over again, just so I can fucking sleep at night, it’s not convenient. It’s not fucking convenient, or healthy.” 

Rey stood stiller than a statue, the only movement in her body coming from her jaw, which trembled horribly in an attempt to keep the sob building in her chest from leaking out. She refused to open her eyes. She refused to look at him. She refused to believe him. 

“I still remember what you taste like.” Rey’s entire body burned from that confession, and her breath caught in her throat, perhaps forever. “Still remember how your lips feel on mine, how your hands felt in my hair, how much better my name sounded when you were the one saying it. I dream about you every night, and the bed’s cold next to me when I wake up, and I have to live with the knowledge, all over again, that I was the one who walked away, that I’m the one who hurt you.”

“So, do I regret it?” Poe laughed, a harsh sound, and he was closer than before, clearly walking towards her as he spoke. “I fucking regret it more than I’ve regretted anything in my entire life. For my birthday this year, the record label set up some shitty party in LA, with all these fucking people I didn’t care about, and booze and drugs and all the fucking cliche shit we used to make fun of when we’d sing together. And I sat in a bathroom stall and cried for half an hour, listening to the birthday message you left me when I turned thirty, listening to the message you left me eleven months ago where you were at the store, trying to figure out the difference between two percent and one percent milk. On that one, you say, ‘fuck it, Dameron, if I can’t read your handwriting, I’m just getting whole milk.’ That’s one of my favorite ones to listen to, by the way, because you sound angry with me, but you also sound like you still love me, and that was the only way I could live with myself, was by imagining this stupid, alternate world where I hadn’t fucked up too badly, and you’d taken me back an hour after I drove away, and you were mad at me, but you still fucking loved me.”

Rey lifted her hand to her mouth and chewed on her thumbnail, trying to refocus her attention anywhere besides the gut-wrenching confession behind her; the one she’d begged the universe for each night; the one she was realizing she didn’t really want to hear. 

“I got your last call when I was on the first leg of the tour,” Poe said then, and Rey’s entire body locked in terror. So he did want to talk about it. “What was that, three months ago?”

Rey nodded, still frozen. She stared at the back of the house, praying for Finn to sense her distress and come get her out of this. Rey could just walk away, she knew that, Poe would never stop her or try to keep her if she didn’t want to talk to him, but she was frozen, she didn’t want to talk about this, not right now, not -

“You sounded so upset,” Poe whispered. “But you said you loved me. You said you needed me. And I thought, ‘thank Christ, I’m not the only one.’ So I tried calling you back. I tried to call you, ten times a day, for a week straight. And then it said the number had been disconnected.”

“I broke my phone,” Rey muttered. “Dropped it into a pond.” At the cemetery. Don’t go there. Don’t go there, Kenobi.

“Oh.” Poe laughed, and she did too, albeit a little shakily. He sounded closer than ever. He must have been less than three feet away from her now. Run. Run now before he - “Oh, that sounds about right.” If he were anyone but Poe Dameron, she would have slugged them, but he sounded so damn fond, she forgot to be angry. “I almost got a plane and came here, but I figured you didn’t want to see me.”

“I did,” Rey admitted. The tears were forming more quickly than she cared to admit now. “I needed you, Poe, and you weren’t here -”

“I’m sorry,” he was right behind her. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby, please look at me - why didn’t you pick up the phone? Even if I didn’t - even if - God, Rey, you’re so fucking important to me, I woulda come back for you, in any context, at any time -”

But she was proud, and they both knew that. She was proud, and she didn’t call him back because - 

“He died.” Rey folded in on herself more, and Poe’s breath staggered behind her. 

“What?”

“Uncle Ben.” Rey turned around to look at him finally; her hips turning so she nearly faced him, tears pouring down her face readily now, no stopping them, no hiding this grief, this three month old, still fresh grief. Poe was staring at her, tears drying on his own face, new ones building in his large brown eyes, and Rey’s voice shattered when she spoke next. “Ben died, and I was trying to call you to see if you wanted to come home for the funeral, but I was drunk, and I just ended up -” she sobbed, uncontrollably, her hand covering her mouth. Poe reached out for her and then thought better of it, and the fact that he’d think she wouldn’t want him to hold her, that she was so far done with him that she’d reject it - it was too much.

“I needed you.” She faced him fully, fists clenched at her sides. “I needed you, Poe, and you were gone. And I don’t know what would have happened if you’d picked up that night, or if I’d picked up when you called back but-”

“I would have been here,” Poe said fiercely. “Fuck, Rey, I had no idea, none, I didn’t know Ben was - that you were alone-”

“Alone.” Rey sniffed and laughed angrily. “I felt alone when I called you, yeah. But I wasn’t really alone. I had Finn, and then Rose. And Ben Solo’s been really nice.” It was a low blow, and Rey knew it, could see his shoulders stiffening for a moment before they released. Poe was too good of a person to begrudge her happiness if she did end up dating Ben Solo (which everyone thought was a good idea). Ben had been interested in her for years, Rey knew that. Poe knew that. But he wouldn’t hold it against her. He was too kind, and he’d left her, after all. Poe was probably too decent to even ask if she was with Ben now (she wasn’t, would never be).

“I’m glad you weren’t alone,” Poe said after a moment. He was less than six inches away from her, and he looked taller than she’d remembered. He was tanner, his teeth whiter, his clothes nicer. Like a Malibu Ken version of the man she loved.

She hated it. 

“Don’t be glad,” Rey said venomously. “Don’t fucking stand there and tell me you were glad other people were there for me after my father died, Poe.”

“Okay.” Poe’s eyes burned into hers. “So. What should I tell you, then?”

Tell me you still love me. Tell me you’re sorry. Tell me that I’m good enough to stick around for. 

“Tell me not to walk away.” Rey stared at him boldly, and Poe’s expression wavered for a moment, something almost grieved taking over, and he reached out at last, and pulled her into his arms. 

“Don’t walk away,” Poe said brokenly into her shoulder, begging her in the way she’d been too proud to beg ten months ago. “Please, Sunshine. Please stay, let me fix this, let me prove to you how much I love you.” He kissed her shoulder over the thin shirt she wore and held her tight to his body. Rey wrapped her arms around him and closed her eyes, burying herself in his neck and re-familiarizing herself with the smell of mahogany and chocolate and home. 

“Okay,” Rey whispered. His hands tightened on her back in response. “Okay, I’ll stay.” 

“I love you, and I’m sorry,” Poe said, dragging his hands between her shoulder blades, tangling one in her hair. “I love you.”

A year ago, she would have said I know, and kissed him on the nose cheerfully and then accepted his equally happy kiss on the lips. But Rey Kenobi’s heart had been broken and re-formed and neglected too much in the last year, so her response was worlds different, and had Poe Dameron crying into her shoulder. 

“I want to believe you.” 

She’d try to believe him.

It was a start.

[sidpah]

A Misguided Love Letter

From each of these fetid rooms, from each of my voyeuristic thrills peeking between bars, out heating ducts, through slits in tall hedges, I realize how alone I’ve become… Writing love letters to a dead girl who can never respond… As if I were the same boy I was when we were together, and she the same young woman… We’ve been split, two leaves from the same branch carried off in opposite directions… And with a measure of grace, I accept how fitting it is… It can’t be changed… nor should it be… We were perfect together then, and somewhere else, we’re just as perfect right now… Just not here… here, we are perfectly worlds apart…

That must be all for Olivia… I’ll leave her in glorious memory to dissolve along with her wasted body… I knew her for almost ten formative years… before she slid away in the middle of one night to find her true face and forgot all of ours… There are memories, but they’re self-absorbed… I barely remember anything about her except my own reactions…

Even her face is unstable and mutable as magma…

Lifting a rotting pomegranate from the ground, I brush off a thick black worm half dug into its rind… Snatching a sharp twig with my free hand, I run back inside the Healer’s hut… No one is here but those faces on the walls and I can’t bear their judgmental brows any longer… There is only one thing conceivable… I’ll write one more note to her before I fully embrace that wise understanding – then let her sleep in peace. I jab the edge of the stick into the fruit’s rotten skin and use its red juice to write my goodbye across these walls…

This must be how that witchdoctor’s poppet felt, how I felt being that grinning poppet dumbly accepting the barbed hooks through heart and cheeks…

The faces in the walls writhe, curl and squeal in anguish as the point scars and tattoos their brows and eyeballs… This is what they get for trying to help me… You cannot help some people; they must learn this the hardest way I can manage, and keep permanent records of their lessons so they’ll remember each time they see their reflection in a pool of water cleansing another unworthy soul… I’m oblivious to their pain because I’m consumed by my own…

I’m completely overtaken in reminiscence and am no longer aware of their presence or the fact that I’m still in a foreign hut, vandalizing the countenances of a hundred benevolent spirits with my pathetic worldly mutterings…

 I.

I could love you for the way you throw rocks into puddles causing tiny fish to poke noses up into our crazed world with all its mountainous rubble and brazen, unyielding grass stains – And I could love you for the way your skin is made of lions – the way you never inch away from hearts grieving over their own mad loneliness, rapidly dying, hung in the arms of a million other eremite souls reflecting each other’s jeweled radiant face who grins regardless of all – That skin on your back is your own gift from the Earth, not stolen from a sad little creature with similar eyes of pity and fear… And I could love you for the way your laces are never tied together – one loose end will cause a million births – but you make it all seem worthwhile, so much greater than never having lived at all… And I could swing you from a rope with bhikkhu skull as tire, and I could burn a city mile in your honor but it would be a pitifully invalidic pyre compared to your misty eyes on those frost-glazed mornings when brown weeds were miraculous blown glass sculptures made all the more precious because we knew they’d melt and disappear by noon – Winds swelled to cry a declaration of your confused devotion in your voice eternally lovely… and eternally distant… When I called to you I was an infant screaming, “How do I make it this good again?” but now I see I should have asked, “Can’t this one instant be enough?” I never learn my lessons... Maybe I’ll never! Did I not earn the absolution of a lost lingering soul when I allowed you to walk to the station, whistle blowing in the distance, a new stop for road-weary traveler?

 II.

Is it blasphemous to think you were the only good we’d ever know, and without you, we are all destined for savage claws and needle fangs? – We must accept this fate, as you accepted our devotion unworthy and crass – though as full of heart as we could manage in those days of wild beasts and wilder pain – We know only that you never leave us, drifting aside holy and inspired – a muse in mortal guise…

Enough… You were enough, but I am insatiable – And so farewell, love, lover and beloved – Farewell, my heart, my stone, all dreams of youth –

You will forever outlast our memories of you, and all too beautiful, our insipid portraits, proclaiming your everlasting beauty as something tangible – temporal… Missing the mark that you are naught but Love itself!

So untouched by hour or eon… But we are broken men, unable to live up to our aptitude… Our unrealized future – one you promised with Suns in your eyes – So pity of pities, no matter how we whimper and fawn… No matter the heat of our devotion – the blood on our knees – Psalm, soliloquy or silence, our tributes can only be improper, inadequate, illegitimate, compared to what you gave us - What we once had…

And because of this, it is my fear, that though we try our feeble best, meager and insufficient, though it is, my dear, my departed, my soul, never a thought for my immortal ghost, I fear only, that you will simply never be loved enough…  

                                                           Catharsis more or less complete, I make my way to the beach to treat myself to a vicious sunburn. Perhaps a self-inflicted immolation for my most recent act of treachery...

[birdboyofbabylon]

Though night had fallen, the Jungle Zone was ripe with activity. The base of a gang known as the Treetop Thieves, a sprawling series of shelters suspended from the canopy of the jungle; all joined by an inhospitable labyrinth of walkways, was currently teeming with patrols inspecting every nook and cranny. Of course, they had every reason to be on alert. They’d recently made off with the prized mask of a high-ranking Eggman officer and they knew retribution wasn’t a matter of if, but when.

However, there were always careless mistakes to be had. One unfortunate koala patrolling the area would find out firsthand as he thoughtlessly stepped onto a loose vine that had been laid out near the edge of the walkway. In an instant, the rope had sprung, latching around his ankle and sending him screaming over the edge. Others would gather around, of course, a small crowd forming to see one of their own caught up in a constricting web of vines, dangling just below the platform.

And of course, watching from several platforms away in a low crouch, was the impish hawk that had sprung the trap, a grin widening across his beak as the scene unfolded before him. “Heh, that should keep those idiots busy for a while,” he scoffed, dusting his palms together as he righted himself and head for the center of the hideout.

It wasn’t long until the avian found himself in a surprisingly well-decorated main hall, lined with ornate pillars, wooden carvings, and many a tapestry as far as the eye could see. To think a building like this was simply hanging from a harness of interwoven vines was...a little unnerving, but not as much as the state of the hall itself.

...It was completely empty.

“I reaaally don’t like this,” the hawk mumbled to himself, his footsteps being the only thing to break the eerie silence. “They wouldn't be stupid enough to try and make some half-assed trap outta this, would they?”

He’d take another few steps, spying the secured lockbox at the far side of the room. “Nah, couldn’t be. They probably all got tied up just like their buddy,” the avian scoffed, followed by a chuckle. “Heh...tied up. That’s a pretty good one”

The lockbox only needed a bit of coaxing, a bobby pin more than enough to do the trick. It was but a little wiggle here and a waggle there until it snapped open and...there it was, Nephthys’ mask, it had to be. The thing had a sturdy feel in Jet’s hands, a fair deal of weight to it and the material, whatever it was, certainly had a quality to it that couldn’t have easily been faked. This was it, for sure.

“Well well well, I heard we had an intruder, but to think it would be the leader of the Babylon Rogues. How curious”

"You have got to be shitting me...,” the hawk grumbled as he pocketed the mask and turned around. Sure enough, a small army worth of thieves had just rushed into the building, nearly a dozen strong of all kinds of jungle wildlife. The one that seemed to be leading the group was a lemur sporting a few facial scars and a sinister grin.

“So tell me,” the rival thief continued, his brow lifting in suspicion, arms folded behind his own back “Why would you come on behalf of the Eggman? You have no allegiance with him, or so I’ve been told”

“Who said I was doing this on that fat bastard’s behalf?,” the hawk snipped back, pointing towards an imaginary watch on his wrist, “Now are we done playing twenty questions? I’m on a schedule so I’d like to cut to the part where I plant my foot up all of your collective asses”

“Oh...,” the lemur scoffed, “Quite a lot of confidence for someone outnumbered eleven to one. I’d expected the leader of that dying clan of birdbrains to be a fool, but this is something else. A shame that the legend of the Wind Masters dies here, as I-”

It was at about this point when Jet grew tired of listening to this monologue, his leg lashing out to hook in a nearby chair, quickly drawing it in and exchanging it to his other leg. Going with the momentum, he’d swing back into a breakdance-like move, now balanced on a hand while he spun himself and kicked the chair sharply for the opposing leader’s head, breaking it over his skull and causing him to collapse in a heap.

“Yeow, he takes chairs to the face like a bitch. Ya think that’s how he got those scars?,” the hawk cackled, the sarcasm practically dripping from his words as every eye in the room now leered dead at him. “Huh? Oh, sorry ‘bout that, he just wouldn’t shut the fuck up! I thought he was gonna go on forever and ever, too! Does that guy always jerk off to the sound of his own voice or is this just a special thing?”

Without a word, the others clenched their fists and took a fighting stance, with Jet doing the same. The only difference, of course, was that Jet was grinning ear to ear in absolute elation as he shouted. “Alright! Now it’s party time! Just try and keep this exciting, alright?”

[Cue the music!]

Right out of the gate, an absolutely furious gorilla lunged ahead of the group, swinging wildly at Jet, only for the Rogue to nonchalantly backstep every swing, his arms tauntingly held out to the sides. “Hah! Nope! Too slow! Try again!” With one last heavy-handed lunge from his foe, the hawk would weave to the side, letting the brute drive his fist straight into the wall, the limb now caught in the hole.

Lunging in to take advantage, the avian leapt a knee square into his foe’s gut, another kick snapping him square in the jaw to send them flying. Before the gorilla even hit the ground, however, Jet would twist in mid-flight, taking hold of his foe’s neck and sending them flying into the bulk of his attackers, bowling many of them over on the spot.

Two thugs rushed in while their allies were stumbling back to their feet, swarming Jet from each side. The avian turned to one, interrupting his swing with a sharp punch to the gut, then would quickly step back, interrupting the attack of the second one by driving his elbow straight into the incoming fist, his foe’s hand cracking and buckling on impact.

While both were reeling in pain, the Babylonian snatched the arm on the foe behind him, tossing the underling over his shoulder and into the other attacker, flooring them both. A third would come charging in headstrong, only to get stopped cold with a boot to the face, the hawk keeping his sole planted to his attacker’s face all the way down as he followed with a stomp to the skull that splintered the wood floorboards beneath them, the thug writhing and arching his back as Jet twisted his heel atop their head...all for good measure.

 Next up was a panda, rushing the bird with a quarterstaff made of bamboo, swinging it about wildly. Jet managed to duck under the first swing, leaping over the second, then sidestepping an overhead follow-up, dropping a foot on his foe’s weapon as it clacked against the ground. With a sharp push of his heel, he’d push the staff back, driving it into the rival thief’s gut, taking hold of the staff to drive the tip into his foe’s throat.

With one last swing over the head, the panda was down, and what seemed to be his brother was now rushing in. Wasting no time, the Rogue drove the tip of his newly acquired staff into the ground, letting it ricochet up and peg the incoming foe square in the jaw. Before the lackey could even recover, he was swatted again and again from every angle, simply collapsing in a heap once the bird’s quarterstaff barrage had ended.

Another brute of an ape would take a swing next, leaving Jet to try and block with his staff, only to have it snap in two. The cloth wrapping around the weapon, however, would unravel in the middle, serving essentially as a tether between the two halves of the broken weapon, and catching the primate’s fist in the tangle. Almost instantly, the Babylonian capitalized, sharply pulling his foe towards him as he leapt straight overhead, letting his foe run headlong into a punch from one of his own teammates. The ape was swung for a half-turn, only to get pegged again by a blow from the hawk and slump over into a heap.

The monkey hadn’t even fully hit the ground before Jet was using him as a springboard, launching off his downed foe and lunging himself feet-first at his ally as he was still reeling from the shock of this friendly-fire incident, launching him toppling end over end.

As the hawk was getting back to his feet, another lemur would rush him, putting the bird into a headlock. For a second, it seemed like Jet was left flailing aimlessly, but after he kicked up at the empty air, the Rogue would redirect his momentum to slip right through his foe’s legs, reversing the hold and sharply suplexing them into the ground. Before he’d even come to a stop, the bird twisted back into a handstand, finally dropping knee-first square onto his foe’s chest, the unfortunate enemy’s eye’s bulging out as he coughed up specs of red, before eventually going lax.

This left only one target left, a very, very unlucky sloth that was now scared out of its wits, eyes darting from side to side. All he could see was his downed allies, crumpled up, bruised, and bloody on the floor. The mobian would hold out its hands, slowly backing up as Jet menacingly stepped closer and closer, a devilish grin on his face as he cracked his knuckles.

From outside, all the others would see is that very sloth being launched straight through the main hall’s doors, flinging them open with a deafening crash. Dozens of heads turned to scope out the disturbance, just in time to see that nefarious green hawk give a salute and fling himself off the treetop platform. Those that looked down only saw a flash of light, the thrusters on his Type-J flaring to life several dozen feet below...and then he was out of sight.

[serve-the-legion]

The Prodigal Son: Part VI

~ The Cleansing 

( Part I ), ( Part II ), ( Part III ), ( Part IV ), ( Part V )

Teron’gor sat there alone, dazed and with no company save the siphoned-dry corpse of Nar’dok. Shaken to his very core thanks to what he had seen, the young orc stared absently into a rockface - petrified. Ironic that such a horrifying spectacle took place on such a pleasant night. The breeze was cool and the glow of the moon basked everything in the watercolor of dreaming. 

When Gul’dan finally returned, Teron’gor didn’t bother looking at him, an action made far more by numbness than fear. In as high spirits as he had been in some time, Gul’dan nimbly scooped up his staff which lay next to the shriveled husk of his first victim that night. The warlock put a hand out to his companion yet the companion did not take hold, still staring off into nothingness. 

A rough exhale seeped out of Gul’dan’s mouth as he knelt down to be at Teron’gor’s level. Glancing up at the sky briefly, Gul’dan spoke. 

“You no doubt have questions of what my business in that cave was...” 

Teron’gor didn’t speak. Gul’dan decided to continue. 

“He’s dead... Waste Scar. By my hand.”

Teron’gor had assumed as much thanks to thundering explosion he heard. Gul’dan didn’t care, he spoke for himself more than anyone else.

“Yet... This is not over. In the village below are those who harbored him - those who kept him alive... his people.”

Slowly shifting his glazed-over gaze to Gul’dan, Teron’gor began to come alive again, hanging on the warlock’s next words very carefully. 

“They are brutish and terrible things, Teron’gor. They intend to barter an orc into bondage... to OGRES, the same as you were... Are we to let that happen?"

Heavy breathing heralded a hoarse and quiet response from Teron’gor.

“But there… there are children…”

“Children who in time will be no different than their mothers and fathers... The cycle must be broken.”

Glassy eyes twitching for a moment, Teron’gor placed his face into his rough hands, falling silent again. Gul’dan sighed lightly, placing a hand firmly on the former slave’s shoulder. 

“This world has done nothing but take from you... Take from it now. Avenge those who you lost and gain all which I have to offer you-”

Green ethereal ribbons danced all along Gul’dan’s hand, he rose it for Teron’gor to see. 

“-I have heard the whispering of power without end... HE bestowed this gift unto me and I can, in time, teach you that which I know... You shall want for NOTHING!”

Teron’gor shook his head, eyes sunken. Silence for such a lengthy time... then response. 

“I- ............... I can’t.”

Gul’dan stared for a breath before standing up rather sluggishly. With a flick of the hand he put up his hood and sneered down to Teron’gor. 

"What are orcs without our vengeance? Settle as you desire... I go alone.”

With that, Gul’dan turned away from Teron’gor and left the curled-up orc to himself amidst the hills. 

---

Gul’dan had gotten lost. Without a guide to show him these twisting paths, it was nearly impossible to know just where one was going save toward the foot of the hills. A precarious ravine was on one side of Gul’dan as he walked, a thick wall of thistles and stone on the other. Cursing under his breath, the warlock would glance over his shoulder from time to time, checking if a certain orc would come to their senses and follow... the certain orc never showed. 

When his attention should’ve been on his footing, it was over his shoulder - a chunk of earth gave way - Gul’dan slipped. Heart leaping into his throat and hands swinging through empty air, he spilled over the edge and into the ravine. Death seemed a swift and inventive outcome yet in all of his flailing Gul’dan was able to grasp hold of thick foliage hanging from the ravine’s edge. The orc then smacked into the ravine’s rocky face and let out a sharp snarl as one of his tusk’s connected particularly harsh, chipping its tip. 

He was alive. At least for now. If he died here the only signs of his entire legacy would be his staff on the ravine’s edge and his rotten bones below; far from the destiny Gul’dan planned for himself. Heavily panting, he began to pull himself up the tangled mess of vines, eyes set to the distant ledge above him. Yet this ascension was not to last; half way up his lifeline tore, and Gul’dan was forced to grab hold of the uneven stone. 

Eyes wide with rage that swallowed all fear, Gul’dan snarled toward the sky.

“No- NO!! It cannot end like this!”

Growling with animal-like determination, Gul’dan clawed up some way only to lose his grip and plummet down for a panicked moment before grabbing hold of the wall again. Letting out a bitter roar, Gul’dan hung his head, sweat dripping from his brow. He had wasted a great deal of energy trying to get back up there... his grip was beginning to fail him now.

So this is how it ended? Receive godlike power only to fall into an earthen crack and die. Perhaps, Gul’dan thought to himself, this was The Elements final cruel act toward him? What abhorrent and foul thing was circumstance to allow- 

“Jeso?”

Wait. A voice. Carefully did Gul’dan turn his gaze upward to the ledge of the ravine. Upon the ledge stood a figure the likes of which Gul’dan had never seen, yet he knew immediately what it was... it was a draenei. 

The draenei looked down to Gul’dan directly, jolting when he realized that there was in fact someone holding on for dear life down there. Endurance fading with each passing moment, Gul’dan snarled up at the stranger.

“You there!” he nearly lost his grip, grunting and clawing till he had it again, “Help me!”

Frantically nodding his head some, the draenei gestured widely as he began to kneel down, continuing on in that language Gul’dan didn’t understand in the least.  

“A’deit edos! A’deit edos!”

Slinging his large pack off his back, the draenei rummaged through its contents with great haste. Gul’dan was growing impatient, yet how could he not route for whatever plan the alien was concocting?  It wasn’t long until the draenei pulled out bundle of rope from his bag, holding it above his head and triumphantly declaring, “Aar-don'sha, ki kahl'dos!”

Gul’dan snarled and rolled his head as an agitated beast would, he yelled back up to the draenei.

“Extraordinary. THROW IT DOWN!!”

The draenei tied off the rope to a thick-enough bush’s trunk then threw down its length to Gul’dan, who sloppily took hold and started to make his way up with the help of his savior. Heaving and sweating all the way up, Gul’dan collapsed with fatigue when he finally reached safety. Pulling Gul’dan away from the ravine’s edge, the draenei let out a hearty chuckle, patting the orc as he tried to pulled away from the embrace.

“Tor nai mili’edos, eh, LOK’TAR! Heh heh?”

Gul’dan rolled away, panting and nodding his head. 

“Yes. Yes. Victory...” 

The orc glared over his shoulder at the beaming draenei. He muttered a single phrase to it, however much it splintered into his pride.

“My thanks...”

Standing himself up, Gul’dan rolled his shoulder’s to an orchestra of pops and cracks. The draenei handed the warlock over his staff, this warranted a quarter-nod from Gul’dan. Yet the orc was tired of his interaction with the draenei already, so he began to make his way back down the path yet was halted when the draenei called after him.

“Onamah’ein tos Rahma! Edos?” he put a hand to his chest and repeated, “Rahma.”

Growling ever-so slightly, Gul’dan turned halfway to look at the one presumably named Rahma. He put a hand to his own chest and bluntly stated.

“Gul’dan.”

And that was the end of that, Gul’dan would have no more and so he moved along again. He’d find the village eventually - it was just a matter of time.

Rahma waved merrily after Gul’dan.

“Antiana, Gul’dan!”

---

It took Gul’dan far longer to leave the hills than it did to find his prize within them. All through the night he traversed the winding paths and obstacles they presented, guided by moonlight and walked with greater caution than before thanks to a near-fatal mistake. Destiny would have it though that Gul’dan eventually came upon familiar ground, a tucked away path led him eventually to the main one which had taken him up to Thal’dan’s cave hours before. 

The sun was just beginning to rise when Gul’dan finally reached the village, his hood up and visage concealed. For how early in the day it was, the village was apparently aflutter with activity already. Orcs were rushing to the large communal area at the center of the village, or so it appeared. This excitement made it quite easy for Gul’dan to slip in undetected. He didn’t have an answer for where his two companions were, after all.

Following the crowds to the center of the community led Gul’dan to a sight as much spectacle as it was business; an auction. There, chained to a post atop one of the many large, large flat stones, was none other than the orc who Gul’dan and Teron’gor had seen on their way out of the village the previous day. Looking over her were three ogres, ogres who looked a great deal like the one who had ‘owned’ Teron’gor. They were all stroking their chins thoughtfully and bartering with the village’s chief. 

“HmMm... She looks HALE enough, I suppose.” one ogre grumbled.

“Hale enough for you not able to afford her...” another growled. 

“We're looking for the highest bidder - Doesn’t matter to us what’s done after...” the village chieftain grunted.

This orc about to be sold had fight in her, that much was apparent. Why else would’ve they used so many chains? She spit on one of the ogres, was slapped upside the head, then spat again (this time with a bit of blood). Gul’dan mingled in with the crowd, keeping his gaze on the transaction. He was surrounded by the entire village practically. No one had noticed him slip in and what came next would be all too easy... it would be a slaughter. 

Scanning his surrounding, Gul’dan took in every detail he could. He didn’t want anyone escaping yet he also would like to spare the chained orc and perhaps find a disciple in her. Though his power was being honed more every day, it still had the generally accepted effect of a bomb going off. 

Gul’dan closed his eyes and began to blot out all the noise which surrounded him, focusing inward as the voice crawling around in his mind had advised during the night. Control, or at least the confidence in it, began to build up until- WHOOOSH! Something flew right over his head! The sound that followed was the sick SMACK that a blade plummeting into flesh creates. Gul’dan’s gaze shot ahead of him to see one of the ogres swaying side to side with an ax lodged his head before crashing to the ground with a THUNK! The orc chained to the post began to laugh madly, she was ecstatic and found whatever just happened remarkably amusing. 

Spinning around to look behind him through the hysterical crowd, Gul’dan came to see a very familiar figure standing alone about 15 meters back; it was Teron’gor, and he was pointing another ax toward the ogres. Eyes wild with that rage only orcs could conjure, Teron’gor roared at the top of his lungs, retaliation already rushing toward him.

Gul’dan was impressed, if not shocked. Teron’gor’s swift and violent outburst stirred up the perfect chaos in which Gul’dan could unleash his power. In the blink of an eye fel fire ignited like a cyclone around him, heralded by a crack like thunder and a torrent of screaming and cries. 

All who were directly around Gul’dan vanished in a flash of fire, evaporated to ashen remains before the screams could even leave their throats. Teron’gor stumbled back, eyes wide at the explosion of power. A maddened spark within him contorted the young orc’s face into an expression that could only be descried as admiration. Yet admiration would have to wait, soon Teron’gor found himself engaged with a cluster of orcs charging him. They weren’t what he wanted dead; it was the ogres who were his prize.

The remaining two ogres attempted to run off, one trampling over the village’s chief, yet the chaos that was being caused got the two brutes locked within the countless droves which were rushing ever which way to escape the demonic holocaust that was only just beginning. 

As Teron’gor pushed through the ranks of his orcish attackers, Gul’dan tore through the village. Sloppily hurling out explosions of fel fire, the warlock began to eviscerate the crowd about him, none able to even touch him. The horrific orchestra of screams where not excluded to just the warriors of the village, the cries of mothers and their children added to the unholy music. While Gul’dan wielded his power with terrifying effectiveness, his mastery of it was novice at best compared to the being who bestowed it to him. Towering blasts of fel went off like geysers, sending entire clusters of orcs flying into the air, screaming and blazing with twisting green fire. These blasts were stirred up into the clouds above the village. Gul’dan turned to the sky and the twirling fel energies which were accumulating. The voice in his head returned, it sounded pleased.

       “Reach...

                               to the heavens...

                                                             that power...

                                                                                         IS YOUR OWN!”

Heeding the words of The Beautiful One who crawled about in his mind ever-so-often, Gul’dan reached up with his foul will and began to churn the storm above him even more. Awe filled his glowing eyes, awe which slowly devolved into a maddened laughter which echoed throughout the pandemonium. 

“ALL WHO STAND AGAINST ME SHALL BURN!!!”

With a single yet awesomely powerful pull down, Gul’dan heaved streaking bolts of flame down onto the village, exploding the walls into an inferno. No where to run now.

Yet the fires of fel where not the only dark force to claim those who Gul’dan now slaughtered. As the warlock blasted through the villagers, some that were not even in direct contact found their strength seep away and their life drain.

Teron’gor pushed through the fleeing crowds and leaped over the piles of smoldering dead, chasing after one of the ogres caught up in the mess. Clamoring up a rock, Teron’gor hurled himself into the air roaring and landed upon the ogre’s shoulders, hacking down upon the beast with his ax over and over again until it collapsed. Rage cooking the young orc’s mind to nothing but a weapon, he voraciously leaned forward and sunk his jaws into the throat of the ogre before yanking back and tearing it, releasing a fountain of blood. 

The fires had grown so extensive by this point that Gul’dan needn’t conjure any more, instead powerful motions of the arms flung waves of fel over crowds of would-be-attackers and innocent bystanders. The last remaining ogre plowed through a crowd of those fleeing to outrun one wave, only to be consumed screaming by another. 

His dark hair wildly bellowing in the boiling wind, Gul’dan turned quickly where the would-be-slave was chained up. She was looking around slowly, flabbergasted and barely believing what she was witnessing. Eventually her gaze met with Gul’dan and the two stared at each other for a moment - she began to hysterically laugh, throwing her head forward and relishing in the madness (or was it salvation?) of it all.

Not even having to control their path now, Gul’dan turned away from the fires which even now consumed entire clusters of orcs without his guide. Steadily he made his was across the sea of shriveled corpses, eventually coming to stand before the laughing orc. The warlock looked over the orc for a moment before grabbing hold of the chains which tied her to the post with a burning hand. After only a few seconds of his hand upon the chains, they crackled and popped apart, clattering to the ground. Flicking molten metal off of his hands, Gul’dan tilted his head slightly and spoke.

“What do they call you?”

Rubbing her wrists some, the orc nodded a mad grin on her face.

“Czak’ra... you?”

“Gul’dan... Consider this freedom.”

Czak’ra nodded her head some, black (yet singed) hair bouncing up and down. She gave a leisurely pan over the fiery hellscape which she now stood in the middle of. 

“Power like this... It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen! How- How does one-”

Her eyes flicked back quickly to Gul’dan.

“I wish to follow it... if it would have me.”

Czak’ra knelt down, bowing her head to the Lord of Nightmares before her. Gul’dan put a hand out to her, she glanced up and grinned, taking hold and helping her up. After Gul’dan pulled Czak’ra up to her feet he descended from the stone where the auction would’ve taken place. 

His eyes took notice of a survivor among the dead, the village shaman attempting to crawl away, the entire lower part of her body shriveled and drained-dry of life. Gul’dan calmly stepped over the dead and began to close the gap between himself and the shaman. She took notice of this soon and panicked, screaming and trying to claw away yet given how many dead littered the ground it was impossible.

Teron’gor stumbled into the area again, covered head to toe with blood and ash. He glanced over to Gul’dan before collapsing onto the ground, exhausted. His eyes alone showed the orc who had once lived inside was gone.

The panicking shaman had the shadow of Gul’dan now looming over her, screams piping up so hoarsely they were barely describable. The warlock shook his head, putting a clawed finger to his lips.

“Shhh, shh, shhh. There is no need to call unto the elements, shaman... they cannot hear you.”

Gul’dan knelt down beside the old orc, she froze up in terror and started to weep uncontrollably. With a few gentle pats, Gul’dan placed a hand upon the shaman’s head. 

“After all, what does does it matter? ... In the end we all serve... well. They will see.”

He burst the shaman’s head into flames and smashed it into the ground. 

Taking a deep breath in, Gul’dan closed his eyes and relished in all the fuel which now bolstered his entire being. Rising slowly up from the ground with hands outstretched the warlock began to chuckle, a chuckle with sharply turned into an invigorated growl. To say he was drunk off power would be an understatement. 

“This is only the beginning, my friends! NEVER AGAIN will any who follow me answer to this world - BEHOLD!!”

Gul’dan gestured wildly to the waves of green fire all around them.

“EVERY TESTAMENT OF MY UNDENIABLE POWER WILL RALLY THOSE WISE ENOUGH TO ABANDON THEIR PROSAIC WAYS!! AND YOU- “

He looked between Teron’gor and Czak’ra, both who were hanging on his every crazed word.

“-You shall aid me. You shall walk with me TOWARD THIS SALVATION! For none- NONE MAY STAND AGAINST THE MIGHT OF DARKNESS INCARNATE!”

The raving orc turned quickly to Teron’gor, pointing to him.

“TERON’GOR! You have tasted it, have you not? The nectar of vengeance! It gives you strength, my friend! This is not the end of it either- no, no. WE WILL FIND THE REST OF THOSE OGRES IN TIME AND MAKE THEM PAY FOR THEIR ACTIONS!”

Teron’gor slowly nodded his head, his expression devoid of life save the sick smile that was growing. Gul’dan mirrored with a smile of his own, yet this one was full of pride as it was teeth. 

“WE NOW TAKE AS WE PLEASE FROM THIS WORLD FOR IT GAVE US NOTHING! THIS IS OUR TIME - OUR TIME TO CONQUER!” 

Gul’dan gazed upon his two disciples, those two lost disciples. The first of many. 

The village burned up. No soul ever knew what did it. Three orcs left. The world burned up next.

---

THE END

[militvs]

                  ❝ In the quest for comfort we are leading to  C A T A C L Y S M ❞ 

                                     The tragedy of Cloud Strife and Silas Grey

warnings for: transphobic language (no one knows Cloud is trans, even cloud), arranged marriages (kinda), sexism, pregnancy, blood, gore, and death.

         Youth is a time for reckless abandon; for mistakes and ill decisions--something Cloud Strife never explored. ‘Don’t rip that dress Cloud, I worked hard on it.’ His mother whispers gently. Women don’t run through the streets and splatter themselves in mud; good girls don’t scale trees or go swimming the small streams; girls like Cloud hardly go outside at all. Their family is poor and his mothers hands are bone worn; tired from working to simply put some semblance of food on their table night after night. He doesn’t know his father, nor did he ever get the chance. After all had he still been there maybe they wouldn’t be struggling to make ends meet; maybe his mother wouldn’t look so sad. There’s something off about his body and the slight twinge in the back of his mind every time someone calls him ‘she’ but there’s no proper understanding. He is a female and therefore must wear soft dresses and tend to his long hair--but he doesn’t much. 

            The blonde came early into this world and fought tooth and nail to stay--but his body is still small and slender. He’s skinnier than most girls his age and hides it under large shirts and odd pants. He’s frowned upon for it, but everyone whispers behind his back. ‘she’s just in a phase, she’ll grow out of it like all the other girls once she’s able to marry.’ Ah but there it is. He’s eighteen years of age now and it’s important to find a suitable husband and start a family. He doesn’t particularly want to--not when marrying had only brought his mother heart ache and a fatherless daughter. What if his husband leaves him? What if he has a child and ends up having to raise them on his own? Will he too have to work endless jobs til he feels like his hands might bleed and his back bends with the weight of responsibility? Yet his family is poor and if he marries well enough, maybe the dowry will at least free his mother. 

                Hands fold neatly in his lap as his tired mother gently explains what a wife is meant to do; inducts him into adulthood with teary eyes and a worldly weariness she can never seem to shake. Maybe she doesn’t feel it’s fair--that her only child is also going to be taken away; maybe she wishes she’d tried harder to keep his father so like all the others families they could be ‘normal’. But they are not normal, their family is considered strange to the town and he knows it’s partly his fault. He doesn’t show much interest in anything except the stars and books--but girls don’t read, it isn’t natural! ‘You’re a grown woman now Cloud. Boys will start to notice you and one of them will pick you; so you should be prepared.’ It’s not an entirely comforting thought, but their town is small and their minds with it; being property is not a new concept. So he starts wearing dresses and braiding his hair instead of leaving it in that messy little wolfs tail. He reads, but now it’s quiet and in the sanctuary of his own room instead of in public. 

                  Boys do begin to notice him but he doesn’t particularly care--especially when most of them are rude about it. ‘Cloud it isn’t ladylike to punch someone!’ But he doesn’t regret laying out Jimmy on his ass when he tugs his hair. From then on none of the boys really show interest in him--all except one. Silas Grey is probably the richest man in town and he’s a couple years older than Cloud, so he’s considered more mature. They’d never really noticed each other--but when the blonde punched the kid that decided his braids were actually a rope, he was there. He was tall--far taller than Cloud could ever hope to be with deep red-brown hair and rich brown eyes that reminded Cloud of the hot chocolate his mom once treated him to on his sixteenth birthday. His hand went up to his mouth and even though it covered most of his face, the laughter shone clearly in his eyes. From then on there was a sort of soft fascination with each other, though neither was foolish enough to call it love. 

                  Silas was from a well-off family and worked as a merchant of sorts. The town also considered him odd because he was going on twenty-one and still had yet to marry; not only that but he dressed quite plainly for a man of his wealth. He had forward ideas about women reading and working even if their husband provided--he even began to lend Cloud books. The blonde was no fool, he knew that the books were just an odd way to court him--but he didn’t mind so much. The red-head liked to listen and paid attention to what the blonde said; even told him that he looked like stars had gotten bored of the sky and came to rest on his skin. It wasn’t that he really cared much about his freckles, or was offended when others compared them to dirt, but the comparison was sweet and he smiled at the compliment in spite of himself. He was a sullen girl, but that didn’t seem to bother the other. 

                   It was a warm summer day when the proposal came. It wasn’t dramatic or too fancy, just a simple and private question in the living room with a book in Clouds lap, wrinkling his blue dress. There was no reason to say now--you didn’t marry for love after all. Not only that but their parents had pretty much arranged the affair. ‘I know it’s unfair to ask...but the dowry Silas gives you will save my shop and we can live without worry...’ and that pleading was all it took. They had a fall wedding, Cloud dressed in a simple white dress and for once wearing make-up. Silas was a patient man and didn’t sleep with him right away--something about wanting to make sure they were both mentally ready. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready, but the sentiment was sweet. Silas was, after all, just like that. He didn’t put much stock on norms even though Cloud was still his stay-at-home wife. 

                    Perhaps if they both weren’t stuck in such a small town with small minded people they may have been better, but they weren’t broken either and that was good enough for the teen. He’s almost nineteen when they finally start sleeping together and it really isn’t so bad. He can tell his husband has started to love him, but Clouds repeat of the words are hollow and with no meaning. It’s not that he isn’t happy, but love has never really been a point in all this. He can’t explain it--but to him the man he married is just a very good friend. Even so its been drilled into his head that a good wife take care of the man they marry, so he does what he’s meant to. The swell of his stomach is beginning to show when he finally turns nineteen and his mother is excited to meet her grandchild and slowly but surely...Cloud is excited to meet them too. 

                      Having a family wasn’t something he thought he ever wanted, but the closer his due date gets--the more excited he becomes. Cloud puts on a little weight and his husband is more than happy to splurge on feeding him and spoiling his wife. Even if there is no real love between them, they’re starting to look and act like a proper family. The blonde takes up knitting and spends a lot more time making baby clothes than reading (like before). There’s a new life inside him and he has an endless list of possible names. Before he knows it his due date is just days away and the charm has worn off a little. He’s in pain or achy most of the time and his moods swing back and forth faster than a man with a bat. Silas is patient through it all--helping him at the doctors and spending more time at home to ensure their ready for what they now know will be their son. 

                      So of course, in the midst of everything going well, it goes terribly wrong. It’s late and there’s the sounds of screams and the smell of smoke and he wakes with a start, reaching instantly for his stomach and curling his arms around himself as Silas bursts into their room panting. He’s half-dressed and holding a bag of what Cloud assumes are the most valuable thing in their house. Without saying a word he’s being tugged to his feet, wrapped in one of his husbands jackets, then whisked out the door. It’s difficult to go fast and they fall behind a lot of other people fleeing the now burning town. There’s the sounds of gunfire and screaming. “Wutai...” his husband gasps out, reaching and wrapping his arm around his wife’s small shoulders, protectively trying to keep him close. Ah yes, the war. The blonde feels blood drain from his face and he clutches at himself. “I won’t let them take our son...” he chokes out, more afraid than brave. 

                       They almost make it; they almost stay that small happy family; they almost live to see their son together--but almost is not the same as did. The man in wutai clothing raises his gun, aiming for the stressed blonde but Cloud isn’t the one that takes the bullet. “SILAS!” the cry is ripped from his throat in desperation as he collapses, clutching his bleeding husband against him. But the man is tall and even as he gasps for breath, bleeding out, he clutches Cloud against him--shielding his wife and unborn son. “Live...live and fine happiness.” he whispers, kissing the top of his head weakly. He goes slowly, painfully--bleeding out from several bullet wounds. Cloud is screaming, tears dripping into the mess of tattered fabric that was his husbands shirt. He thinks he might vomit from the smell of blood and death, but he cannot move or defile his deceased husband after his sacrifice. 

                           Maybe he didn’t love him--but he had cared; he had been his friend. He’d seen death before--but not like this; not so cruelly. When the men come to him, finding his teary face under his husbands corpse he fights them--weakly trying to stop these masked men from dragging him away. But they don’t give up and he is knocked unconscious and taken away. His memories become hazy--a drifting in and out of white light and unfamiliar faces; men and women in white coats and a man with strange glasses. When he next wakes he’s in a dirty dress that might have once been white, his stomach oddly flat and hands still tingling with the sensation of blood. His husband is gone, his child is gone, his home is gone and he doesn’t know where he is. All Cloud knows it that he’s so sad he’s angry and the people who hurt his loved ones will pay. “Wutai...” he growls, standing shakily on his feet and gripping at a dirty poster for SOLDIER. He will have his revenge. 

                              “Your father was a hero” he murmurs softly from where he’s sitting on the couch, holding Neku close. He’s twenty-seven now...far older than that foolish girl who set out for revenge so long ago, but that ended up saving the world instead. Cloud knows the man he’s become--the father that he is--was all thanks to Silas Grey. Soft fingers card through red hair and he can’t help but think on how sometimes their son--now back where he belongs--is so like his dad. “He saved us both.” There’s no need to give more detail than that. Neku doesn’t need the gory details, not yet anyway. “I didn’t love him--not like that.” he admits quietly, closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh. He hasn’t even told Tifa this whole story. But this kid in his arms deserves the truth. He thought his and Silas’s kid had been killed but it turns out he was just another victim of ShinRa. He swallows back the guilt and leans down, kissing his sons forehead instead. “But I don’t regret marrying him--I don’t regret having you with him. He died so we could have a chance so...lets make the best of it yeah? Together."

                              And maybe they lived happily ever after, after all.