#its not completed still yet but close enough to be able to test it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

delimeful · 4 months ago

Text

how easy you are to need (redux) (7)

warnings: misunderstandings, feeling trapped, unhealthy thoughts about an assumed situation, death and injury mention, discussion of debts, unreliable narrator, virgil horribly misinterpreting yet another normal conversation, literally embarrassing levels of thick-headedness

Letting his guard down around the humans was far, far easier than it should have been.

He still eased his defenses down slowly, bit by bit, of course, he wasn’t a complete fool. An understanding between him and Patton didn’t necessarily mean that the others felt the same.

They were humans, not shifters, after all, and while he could see the shape of a pack in their closeness, that didn’t mean he could assume the same principles would apply. They all took on equal responsibilities in maintaining and protecting their home, and none of the three had shown any particular indication that they were a designated envoy, meant to speak for the entire pack.

Frankly, with it only being the three of them, a lack of envoy wouldn’t have been too surprising even if they had been shifters. Some smaller packs forewent assigned roles, rotating them as needed, or were close-knit enough that they essentially acted as one whole, any individual able to speak for the pack.

The humans loved to bicker, though, and it would have been like a slap in the face to trust in Patton’s promise and then have them argue about it right in front of him. Instead, Virgil tested the firmness of the new ground he’d been offered with slow, tentative steps, like a deer crossing over a frozen lake. Better to take his time and test the ice than plunge right through.

Irritatingly, the humans made it far too easy for him to forget how precarious his standing was.

Even the simplest of interactions seemed to please them. When he’d responded to Patton’s friendly greeting for the first time, the morning after their midnight conversation, the human’s expression had lit up like a lightning bug at dusk. When he’d finally answered one of Logan’s questions during a meal, the scholar had blinked a few times in quiet surprise before smiling in a way that made his entire face look softer. When he’d pursed his lips and snapped out a sharp retort to something annoying Roman had said, the hunter hadn’t hesitated to needle him right back with friendly delight, the same as he did with the other two.

They were keeping him trapped here, because they were human and they knew better than to let a monster roam free in the woods around their home, but they didn’t want a starved prisoner or a ticket to easy riches. They wanted to offer him comfort and belonging in the time that he had left.

He’d saved them, and they were repaying it in the only way they could afford to.

It was pathetic, how relieved he felt. How genuinely grateful he was for the simple fact that he wasn’t being forced to relive the unending torment of his first imprisonment. How such basic offerings of food and warmth and companionship made it possible to ignore or even briefly forget about the executioner’s axe hoisted over his head.

He’d been on his own for a long time. Returning to that solitude would be its own kind of death, a slow and painful relearning of what it meant to be alone. He knew this, but tried not to dwell on it. He’d survived it once before, and he would again. Better to endure the loneliness than lose the safety of isolation.

So, he forced himself to keep focusing on methods of escape, on the ways this slowly-growing camaraderie would offer lapses in security, on the new freedoms he could take advantage of, and didn’t think about what he would do afterwards.

With this goal in mind, he immediately decided to test his luck by poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

He’d regained some mobility after another week of healing, though he kept his walking pace to a slow shuffle out of caution, and the humans still tended to hover like agitated honeybees whenever he was on his feet for too long. The cabin was small enough that he had mapped out most of it within a day or two, and now he approached the only room he hadn’t yet entered or peered into.

When he pushed the door of Logan’s workspace open, the human’s head snapped up immediately, wearing the beginnings of a frown. Once he saw that it was Virgil who stood in the doorway, though, the displeased turn of his lips faded away, replaced by eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Hello,” he said, voice polite despite the interruption. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Of the three of them, Logan had been the most respectful in his formality, and so Virgil impulsively tested the bounds of that patience by not answering right away, instead letting his gaze drift over the room and its contents.

There were far more plants scattered about than he’d expected, though perhaps he should have expected as much from the dedication Logan tended his garden with. Pots of different shapes and sizes were settled on every inch of the window ledges, and planters hung from shelves and hooks on the ceiling alike. There was an entire corner of the room dedicated to racks of drying herbs and flowers, both wild and homegrown, which lent the room a pleasant dusty floral smell that almost covered up the sting of ink and chemicals.

There was a table against one wall, the shelves around it packed full with bottles of miscellaneous ingredients, all of them labeled in neat handwriting. The table itself was covered in neatly-organized supplies, with protective sigils carefully carved into the outer edge of the wood, keeping any experimentation contained. It stank less than he’d thought it would, for human magecraft, but then he hadn’t yet seen Logan doing any of the typical dissection and harvesting of supernatural creatures, either.

After the full moon, it would have the bitter tang of magic made through unwilling sacrifice, the distant preserved rot of bottled blood. Virgil would recognize the stench of post-harvest ingredients anywhere. Not that he’d be there to smell it, at that point. He forcibly pulled his attention away.

The last section of the room was less orderly than the rest, primarily due to the heaps of books that were stacked and shoved wherever there was space. Logan’s desk was the only semi-clear spot, and even that had a few precarious book towers sitting atop or alongside it. It was also covered in stacks of parchment, with lines and lines of writing or intricate diagrams sketched on the paper.

Logan sat behind it, still awaiting a response, those keen eyes watching him right back.

There was no sign of the lodestone for the ward around the cabin at first glance. He had known better than to think it would be that easy, though.

He hadn’t known that he would actually get this far, assuming that they wouldn’t want their magic prisoner sticking his nose in the most likely place to find a way out of their wards. Even Roman and Patton didn’t tend to disturb Logan too often when he was working in this space, so he’d assumed he’d only get a few moments to glance around at best.

“You haven’t been to the leyline crossing,” he said, because the silence had begun to grow awkward and he’d panicked and they really hadn’t, even though it was well past the usual time of the month they went.

Logan’s stare sharpened, which was probably a bad sign, but he only stood up to clear the books off of a second chair, and gestured for him to sit.

This had been a bad idea. Virgil slunk forward with extreme reluctance and sat.

“We haven’t,” Logan answered affirmatively as he returned to his seat, adjusting his spectacles. “It didn’t seem wise to venture into the woods, seeing as that is where the bear headed, last we saw it.”

That was… a really good reason, actually. Virgil shuddered at even the idea of them running into that creature again in the dead of night, without him to help.

“I take it that you’ve been familiar with us for a while, then, since you know of our routine offerings?” Logan continued, sounding more curious than angry.

Virgil froze up, regardless. He should have known better than to hope he could make it through a conversation without giving anything away. He hadn’t even managed to make it through the first sentence.

“I am not upset,” Logan offered, glancing down at the open book before him in a gesture that seemed designed to give Virgil a moment to breathe. “On the contrary, I am… rather relieved, to have my suspicions confirmed.”

“Relieved?” Virgil echoed dubiously, his voice a low croak. It tended to go raspy and hoarse if he wasn’t focusing on speaking, probably the result of not using his human vocal cords to speak to anyone in literal years.

“Indeed,” Logan answered. “I will admit, my initial impression of you was made hastily. We had never seen you before, and yet you didn’t hesitate to defend us, and you earned a significant injury in the process. It was worrying to unexpectedly incur such a debt.”

Virgil managed to shove aside his embarrassment in favor of confusion. It was strange to mention a debt, especially one owed to a shifter. Humans didn’t consider shifters worth trading with in any fashion, in his experience, and even other supernatural beings knew that wolves weren’t fond of holding debts or grudges. Really, the way Logan spoke about it sounded more like…

“You see, I was aware that it is rather rare for a shifter to reveal themself to humans for any length of time, as I’m sure you know, and I was also aware that the fair folk are often deft hands at taking on wild shapes of their own, particularly when interacting with humans, so…” Logan trailed off, looking a bit flustered at the admission.

“You thought I was fae,” Virgil completed the thought, feeling a bit taken aback at the idea. He certainly would have done a fair bit more against that bear if he’d had the sort of natural power that faeries so often courted.

Of course, things also would have turned out a lot worse for the humans if he’d been a fae, more likely than not. Humans who had fallen under the attention of one of the fair folk frequently met an unfortunate end because of it. Whether the faery in question was maliciously fixated or lovingly obsessed, the human would be lucky to come out irrevocably changed. They’d be lucky to come out alive at all.

“It was a working hypothesis,” Logan said primly, turning a page in his book despite the fact that he almost definitely hadn’t been reading while they spoke. “It was disproven easily enough, and so my precautions weren’t needed in the first place, but seeing as my haste has gotten me and those around me in trouble before, I thought it best to perform them anyhow.”

Precautions? Patton had said that Virgil saved his life, if not all of theirs. To the fae, a life debt like that could only be paid off one way, whether they’d been tricked into it or not.

Oh. He had wondered why Logan had been so uncharacteristically careless before, carrying an agitated and injured shifter back with its teeth only a handspan from his neck. If Virgil had been fae, if he’d chosen differently and torn out Logan’s throat, that would have been the end of any debt between him and the others. A life paid for a life owed.

“Did you run that plan by the others, first?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

Logan waved a hand dismissively, not bothering to pretend at regret. “They traveled out here on my behalf, in the first place. To let them suffer for my mistakes would be a poor repayment.”

From what he knew of them, Virgil thought Patton and Roman would disagree. Loudly.

“…Right,” said Virgil, in his most dubious tone. “On your behalf?”

“I’m cursed,” Logan explained shortly. “I don’t have the constitution required to perform magework without damaging my health. It was intended to make me choose between my health and my passion, but I was willing to give up neither, and found a third option: proximity to powerful natural magic, which would prevent spellwork from being as taxing.”

“Huh.” It was a clever solution. Logan might have been the one to propose their solution to Virgil, too. Offering a shifter a peaceful last few weeks certainly wasn’t an option he would have expected from any normal humans.

Right. He’d almost forgotten that his plan had been to push against the boundaries of his cage, to force them to acknowledge that he was stuck here, to remind himself that no amount of kind company was worth the pain of how this month would inevitably end.

“Well, you don’t owe me anything,” he said, a little too sharply. “And in that case, there’s no point in me staying.”

Logan sat up straight, posture stiffening as he frowned. “You’re still far from healed. I understand why you don’t wish to shift, but surely, leaving is a bad idea for the same reason?”

There it was. In the end, that was the biggest flaw in the arrangement the humans had come up with. If Virgil attacked them or tried to leave, they’d be forced to kill him immediately. He would lose, but so would they; killing him in his human form would make his corpse far, far less valuable.

“You’re only making things more difficult on yourself,” Virgil told him, crossing his arms as tightly as he could without jarring his wound. “I’m not fae. There’s no worth in being hospitable to me.”

It certainly wasn’t going to convince him to stop trying to escape. He might be pathetic, but he wasn’t that pathetic. Honestly, it’d probably be easier for everyone if they just cut their losses and killed him now.

Logan closed his book, folded his hands over it, and met Virgil’s eyes squarely. “We offered you our hospitality because we wanted to. It is freely given, no matter the ease or difficulty involved.”

Virgil couldn’t help the way his eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise. That implied that they would keep on offering him this kindness even if he did get caught attempting to escape.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t ever been truly punished for that first desperate sprint to the wards, had he? None of the things he’d believed to be threats or punishments had ever panned out the way he’d assumed. Ultimately, they hadn’t so much as directly scolded him about the escape attempt, as though the act was hardly surprising. He hadn’t been drugged, and he still wasn’t guarded.

He couldn’t be certain unless he got caught again, but… the signs were all there. They were confident enough in their cage to indulge him even when he was caught gnawing at the bars. They were underestimating him.

“Don’t blame me if you regret it later,” he said dismissively, but he couldn’t help the disbelieving half smile creeping onto his lips.

Logan returned his smile with an encouraging one of his own, apparently unfazed by Virgil’s renewed determination. “I very much doubt I will.”

He snorted and left the human to his work, not cowed at all by the arrogance. Logan could doubt all he liked. Virgil had beaten much worse odds before.

#tss fanfic #sanders sides fic #ts virgil #ts logan #werewolf au #my writing #writing #heyatnr #how easy you are to need redux #if there was a drinking game where you took a shot for every miscommunication in my fics #this one would 100% be the one that killed you the quickest i think #anyways this one goes out to those who sent the incredibly kind asks ive recently received and not yet had time to answer #thanks for everyone's patience <3

89 notes · View notes

fishyvamp · 1 month ago

Text

This is just a small snippet of a larger fic I'm working on and I'd thought I'd share it, it is an OC x Reader fic and yeah it might be out of season with the holidays over, but I think it's still worth sharing.

The sound of crunching snow echoed through the forest, the scent of decay heavy in the air as you trudged through the thick forest to your cabin hidden deep in the woods. The moon was high in the sky. You should've been back in your cabin hours ago, but no, you had to see those caves at sunset. Had to watch the snow glitter in orange and pink. You had to experience it at least once before you surrendered dreams of seclusion. The frost of the air seeped into your clothes shredding at your skin threatening to sink into your bone like a frozen death. You didn't know how much longer your aching legs could go on. The chill of sleep running up your spine.

You had to move on. You had to follow this trail, and yet the more time marched on the further you went the more you body began to buckle. It didn't help that the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end like you were being watched. You wanted to get home, wanted to curl up in the warm of your bed listening to the crackle of a fire as a record played. Anywhere but here where the chatter of your teeth and crunch under boot was all you could hear. That is before you noticed a faint low growl. Your body moving towards the sound you freeze in place boots melding to the ground as glowing eyes stared back at you.

You wanted to bolt and flee from this place you body tense as it stepped out from the thicket. Large cloven hooves flattening the snow beneath its feet. A glowing lantern hanging from a staff held firmly in its claws. Its body that of a man was decorated in tinsel and Holly berries and on its back was a large wicker basket. Large enough to hold a man. It's face, that of a goat with large snarling fangs and long black goat horns. The beast easily stands as tall as many of the trees towering over you.

The beast stepping ever closer, its shadow engulfing you deeper into the only blackness of the cold winter night. You could not move even as you fought to get your feet to even take a step. The claws reach ever closer gripping the scruff of your coat, easily picking you up, “mine.” Its scratchy voice rasped, placing you in the basket. The lid closes over top encasing you completely. You felt petrified physically even if you knew you should fight back and that it would be so easy to push open the basket and run.

However as he moved and the basket swayed the exhaustion came back replacing the adrenaline that raced through your body only moments before. You needed to stay awake. Needed to stay alert because if you didn't… did it even matter anymore? Weren't you about to get eaten by whatever had you? You had no fight or strength anyways. The cold sapped away every ounce of energy you had a couple miles back. Surrendering to your helplessness you let the darkness creep in.

You didn't know what to expect waking the next morning clothes stripped from your body leaving under warm heavy patchwork quilts. It was still dark outside so surely you weren't asleep that long even with all the energy you've seemingly found. Pushing off the plush fabric you fall out of the massive bed with a huff. The sound of metal clinking as you moved horror racking your body noticing the chilled metal connecting to you and the wooden leg of the bed. You needed to escape before it came back. Your mind working overtime scanning the surroundings. It looked like a normal cabin master room albeit with larger ceilings then expected. Likely to accommodate the larger Beast’s size.

A sign of sapience, perhaps? Not just a feral animal. Maybe he could be reasoned with, there was no signs of harm anywhere on his body. You didn't feel like he had violated despite waking up bare for the taking. Rising shakily to your feet you test the limits of the chains you can move just about everywhere even able to enter the large grandiose bathroom. You felt like a child in here being almost too small to use much of anything. Couldn't barely see yourself in the mirror, but what you did see had you frozen in fear, tattoos of a chain wrapping around your neck with a holly berry bunch in the center breaking the chain.

What was that? Your fingers tracing the outlines feeling something warm and pulsing underneath it felt almost magic in nature and yet you couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

“You're awake,” a deep rumbling voice gruffed. The skin up your back prickling as you came face to face to the beast once more. Not wanting to be defenseless you grab the nearest object to you… a toilet brush. No matter you planned to wield it like a mighty Excalibur and fend yourself from the brute one slash at a time. “Put that down.” He commanded the mark around your neck beginning to burn painfully as you stood firm. “Now.” He bellowed cloven hooves clanking against the ground.

Your limbs screaming as you fought for control over your own body. He did not have time for this dark fur glowing under the light of the bathroom, a smile on his twisted face, goat-like eyes glaring down at you as he folded his arms. “put that down!” The resistance fading from you as you dropped the brush, the burning around your neck painful, knees buckling beneath you as you grab your throat to soothe the burning or what you did not know. It just hurt so much. “Listen the first time pest,” he growled, scooping you off the floor into his warm hair, arms undoing the chain around your ankle.

The beast wasn't gentle as he deposited you roughly to the bed, turning his back on you to scour the closet for something warm for you. A simple t-shirt and red and green flannel pants. Nothing too fancy, but something to help you regain what little dignity you had left. Not wanting to anger him as he just stared expectantly watching you redress before finally turning his goat tail wagging as he softly praises you, “good boy.” he doesn't rechain you nor does he shut the door behind him. An opening that felt too good to be true. Logically you shouldn't bolt. It was clearly a trap, but a burning feeling in the back of your neck called to you like a siren saying this won't come again.

You have one chance as foolish as it was: you creep out quietly looking towards the kitchen seeing him bang his pots and pans preparing a meal of some sort. And while clung to you, you did not want to stay another moment trapped worried about what he was going to make you do.

Conveniently you find your coat and boots by the door and softly you do your best to put them on opening and closing the door silently before bolting. Your feet carrying you deeper and deeper into the woods, the golden rays of the sun illuminating the ground. There was no telling where you were, but something screamed at you to keep going to keep running. You turn around to make sure he wasn't following when the world suddenly stops and you're greeted by a massive man dressed in jeans and plaid with a thick full beard. That same burning feeling telling you to run was now telling you to trust. “Help me.” You whisper, concern racking his face as he helps you to your feet guiding you down the icy mountain. “My name is Nicholas,” He whispered, holding you close, “you're safe now.”

#oc x reader #monster fucker #Krampus #Monster x reader #FtM!reader #tw: kidnapping #tw: gaslighting #tw: branding #dark fic #fishy's stories

22 notes · View notes

aftg-and-random-things · 3 months ago

Text

since it’s thanksgiving arc month here’s a short aaron pov during the thanksgiving incident~

Trigger warnings: same as the book during this scene, SA, murder.

———————————-

Aaron should have noticed something was wrong earlier, but it took Neil’s sudden grip on his wrist for the unease to finally take root. Even so, Aaron wasn’t able to think further on this, barely even noticing Neil’s other arm grabbing the new exy racquet before he felt himself being dragged into the hallway.

“What the hell?” He managed to ask Neil, but he received a harsh hiss in response.

Neil abruptly let go of him at the edge of the staircase, and it almost seemed as if there was an expectation to follow him upstairs. Aaron had never disguised his feelings about Neil, yet he felt at this moment a sort of truce pass between them. He would follow. Aaron’s pride wasn’t big enough not to, and his curiosity had long since been peaked.

As he trailed behind Neil, he noted how he ascended the carpeted steps with a trained ease. It wasn’t as if Neil’s behaviors hadn’t alerted him before, but the disquieting silence of his movements oddly seemed more damning than any of his other frantic behaviors. He realized with a start that Neil was well acquainted with making himself as unnoticeable as possible, possibly more than he was.

When they reached the top, a muted thump interrupted the clinical silence. Neil darted to the only closed door on the floor, tested the knob (which was evidently locked), then promptly rushed to inspect the next door over. Aaron had no time for whatever the hell Neil was doing. By this point, he was conscious of the rapid acceleration of his pulse. Something was wrong. He raised his hand to the door to knock on it, but aborted this action midway to take hold of the racket that Neil thrust in front of him. He saw it happen in a second. Neil kicked the space above the door knob in a precise manner, splintering the wood around it.

"Jesus fuck—“ he started, but with complete disregard, another kick landed on the door, bursting it open with a strength he hardly expected from the striker.

Aaron found himself following inside, but he forgot who he was following soon after. Neil had disappeared from his peripheral as soon as he took in the scene.

Blood. Man. Bed. Pillows. Andrew. Andrew-

He bridged the gap in the room in seconds, and brought the racquet in his hands up and down onto the man’s temple. Even as the blood splashed on him, he didn’t notice the limp body falling off the side of the bed, bringing the sheets down in its wake.

At this point, it was almost as if he was observing himself from the distance. He could see his fingers slip, the racquet falling onto the floor.

Andrew.

He recollected himself as quickly as he had disassociated, now single-mindedly cataloging the injuries of his brother.

Andrew was facedown, wearing only a shirt on his upper half. Aaron’s eyes processed how he was covered in blood, and that where there wasn’t blood, there was array of pinkish red bruises along his skin. They were clearly subcutaneous, and while they would darken in a few weeks, he judged they would heal okay.

His thoughts were interrupted by a peal of laughter from Andrew, muffled from the pillow, but still loud enough to cause Aaron’s hands to involuntarily shake. With the instincts of a pre-med student, Aaron’s first priority had been to check if Andrew was physically okay, but once that was done, the full weight of the situation had set in.

Logically, it had all of the signs of rape, but his mind kept saying that it couldn’t be. Andrew couldn’t get raped.

Yet Andrew was raped. That man raped his brother.

Aaron didn’t think he was the most level-headed person, but he was still used to his thoughts having some degree of order. Everything and everyone compartmentalized more or less. Now, he couldn’t grasp at a single thought, nothing could tether him to reality. It was as if he was stuck in the bathroom again, grasping helplessly at the linoleum, thinking what did he do wrong—

—as if he finally realized what it meant to be a brother only to have it pried away from him—

He would think later that it was fortunate Neil was more put together, that Neil heard the sound of footsteps coming upstairs, and had protected what was left of Andrew’s dignity from whoever had briefly entered with the bloodied sheets.

No one could drag his eyes away from the man who he shared a face with. It could have been because of disbelief, but Aaron knew better.

Aaron knew the reason he didn't dare to look away was because of the sobering realization that his brother’s life would not be the same.

And that following his brother, his own life too would irrevocably change.

#please be gentle this is my first fan fic attempt #aftg #all for the game #aaron minyard #sorry I quit midway I hated what I wrote after #also sorry if anything is ooc #this was so hard to write cause I had to balance making him have thoughts but also not having any thoughts

23 notes · View notes

imnotjaesblog · 11 months ago

Text

Hogwarts Dreams at Night

Part 1: An Owl Appears

Warnings: None

MINORS DO NOT READ!!

Words: 4k

At eleven years old you sat by the bay window in your living room. You tapped boredly on the glass watching as two raindrops raced to the bottom. Your head resting on your palm. You sighed the right raindrop splashing onto the bottom of the window. It was another boring Sunday.

Your parents were out working. Your parents owned a flower shop in London. Your mother's dream was to have her own shop to grow and sell flowers. When an order came in for a bouquet of flowers for a wedding or Valentine's Day she always cheered. Your father followed her to London, his wish was to be with her, to always make her happy.

He did just that when they had you.

Now at eleven, you sat by the bay window waiting for them to come home. It was too wet and cold to play outside. All of your friends were home probably finishing their homework. You had completed your school work the day it was given and handed it in the same day.

You loved reading but you'd already read every book in your collection including your mother's, twice. So there was nothing left for you to do but sit and wait for them to return.

at three o'clock your parents were still out working. The nanny they left you with was asleep on the couch placed in front of the TV. The only thing that separated the two was a brown coffee table your father made.

At four o'clock you got hungry. You went into the kitchen and poured yourself a bowl of cereal, you hadn't learned how to use the stove yet but you were sure you could figure it out.

At five o'clock you laid on your bed reading again. An encyclopedia all about frogs. You had just learned about amphibians and reptiles in school. Just as you reached your favorite part, there was a tap on your window. You perked your head eyes zooming in the glass. A branch large enough to fit a bird's nest blew back and forth in the strong wind. You ignored it until you heard another tap. This time when you looked at the glass there was an owl. A white owl perched on the long branch a white envelope in its hand.

Curious you lifted from your bed leaving the book behind. You slowly walked to the window unable to wipe the smile from your lips. You'd never seen an owl so close before, let alone during this time of day. Maybe the owl was sick or perhaps blind? You thought seeing the sun barely peak over the dark clouds.

The owl shuffled side to side before it flew to the window tapping on it with its beak. You smiled eyes wide as you flicked the lock opening the window wide. The rain poured into your room landing on your white carpet. Soaking the fabric of your socks. The owl flew inside flying around your room. Creating chaos as it knocked down books and flew past your candle darkening the room. You held onto your head ducking to avoid its claws.

Once the envelope fell from its mouth and onto your bed it flew out the window. You quickly ran to shut it stopping the rain from coming inside and strong cold winds from hitting your face.

You let out a huff as you locked your window seeing the owl was gone. You turned back to your bed. The envelope sitting on the mattress. You walked over climbing onto the sheets and picking up the letter. You flipped it over seeing a red stamp holding the paper closed.

The front was addressed to you.

You had never received mail before. Well once before when your best friend Jeno invited you to his eleventh birthday party last Spring. But you had never received mail and didn't know what was inside. Nor were ever able to open up the envelopes you received anyway. When you receive your grades or tests your parents always open them.

You excitedly open the envelope pulling the folded cream colored paper out.

Dear Y/n

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

You held the letter in your hands eyes gliding across the page. "Hogwarts?" you thought out loud. Every time your eyes flashed over the words witch and wizard your heart skipped a beat. An owl had come to you and delivered a letter for a magic school. To any other child, it would spark a whole new world of imagination. An escape perhaps from your boredom.

But was it true? A school is full of magic. The keys at the front door caught your attention. Your parents were finally home. Maybe they could answer all your questions.

Your tiny feet ran down the stairs. Both your parents step inside removing their shoes. Confused expression on their faces when you ran to them. Normally they'd find you deep into a book or your studies. They usually found you reading a book about whatever animal you had learned about or a piece of ancient history.

You rarely ever ran to greet them. They didn't mind it. They understood the powers a good book can hold.

"Hello darling," your mother said bending down and kissing your forehead. She squinted her eyes at the letter in your hand. Your father noticed it too. "What do you have there?" he asked pointing at the letter. You held up the cream-colored brownish letter.

"A letter from a witch school," you said eyes glowing. Your mother gasped and your father scoffed. He looked over at the nanny who was now awake. He walked over to her, paying her and quickly ushering her out. Your mother took you into the living room. You sat down on the couch. You sat in the same spot the nanny once sat in. It was still warm.

Your father sat on your left. You still held the letter between your small fingers. Your mother walked in with a sigh. She wiped her hands on her pants as she sat down on your right. A small smile formed on her lips. "May I see the letter?" she asked. You handed it to her with a small nod, as well as the envelope.

She expanded the letter reading the rest.

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for daywear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings) Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags. COURSE BOOKS All students should have a copy of each of the following: The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble OTHER EQUIPMENT 1 wand 1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) 1 set of glass or crystal vials 1 telescope 1 set of brass scales Students may also bring an owl a cat OR a toad. PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

She nodded off chewing her lip. "Still the same," she said. She handed the letter off to your father.

He motioned her placing it down on the coffee table.

"What is it?" you asked the both of them. "What is Hogwarts?" you asked. Many questions flooded your mind. What did your mother mean by 'still the same'?

"Hogwarts is a school for wizards and witches," she said. You raised your bow confused. "But I'm not a witch or wizard," you responded. "They don't even exist," you said. Your mother chuckled. She gripped onto your hands looking deep into your eyes. Her warm smile calmed you. "There are many things that exist out there. Far beyond things you can imagine," she said. Your wide eyes and mind started to wonder. Surely your mother was either crazy or telling the truth.

You chose to believe she was telling the truth.

"So vampires exist?" you asked nervously. Your father chimed in. "Hogwarts isn't a school for creatures or monsters," he said touching your shoulder. You looked over at him with curious eyes. "It's a school for people like you," he said. You sat back his hand slipping off your shoulder. Your heart thumped skipping a beat. "For me?' you questioned. Your mother nodded.

"You're a witch Y/n," she said a hint of excitement in her voice.

"And a damn good one. Once they train you!" your father said charged. "Being that your mom was one of the best witches that ever existed," he said. Your mother looked away shly. While your parents egarly celebrated the letter you sat there on the brown couch still confused but intrigued.

----

At 11 you had arrived at the train station. You stepped onto platform 9 3/4 after running through the wall of the station saying goodbye to your parents. You were pleased to discover Jeno had also received a letter in the mail awaiting his arrival at Hogwarts. You had both gone to the station together. You both sat beside each other on the train. Looking outside the window. Wandering eyes glowing as kids much older than you walked around looking as if they knew exactly where they were going.

Once everyone boarded you and Jeno sat back on the chairs of the train sitting right across from each other.

"My father told me of a sport called Quidditch. He said he used to play during his time at Hogwarts," Jeno began excitedly feet barely touching the floor of the train. They swung back and forth as he spoke. A proud smile on his lips.

"I'm thinking of trying out for the team," he said. You nodded mimicking his smile. "I'm sure you'll make it. You were our school's best football player," you said. Jeno went to speak but a smaller boy with glasses walked by. He looked into your cart eyeing the book beside you. He scoffed pointing at it.

"Frogs? Seriously? Are you nine?" he asked cocky smile on his lips. You looked over at the book and then at him with a shrug. "I like reading it. Why do you care?" you asked a scrunch in your nose in annoyance. He scoffed arms crossing over his chest. "Frogs are boring and slimy," he said stepping into your cart. He moved the book to the side but it ended up falling on the ground.

You went to get it but Jeno grabbed it for you. "Thank you," you said with a smile. Jeno smiled at you and sent the stranger a dirty look. There was a small beat of awkward silence.

"Are you two some sort of couple?" he asked. Both you and Jeno frowned facing morphing into disgust. You shook your head. "No. He's my best friend," you said. Jeno nodded, "Besides I have a girlfriend," he said. The boy with the glasses chuckled. "Relax," he said. He turned back to you. He opened the bag he held handing you a book.

"Read this instead. It's way more interesting than that boring book of yours," he said handing the brown old book to you. You dusted it off.

1,000 Magical Herbs and Fungi

You looked up seeing the boy still next to you. "Why are you still here?" you asked. He opened his mouth surprised. Then closed it. He opened it again to speak but didn't. Instead, he stood up readying to exit the cart. Before he could exit an older lady with a cart of sweets stopped in front of him. She offered him some but he refused shaking his hand.

Jeno's eyes twinkled at the sweets. He had only seen hundreds of different candies once in London at a sweet shop. He stood up pushing the boy to the side. He huffed dusting off his brown vest. He fixed his glasses.

"Excuse me," he said to the lady. She moved her cart to the side for him to exit. Once he stepped out he turned to you.

"Make sure you return that book!" he said with a point of his finger. You went to ask him his name but he walked away. You huffed sitting back into the seat. He reminded you of a girl in your class. Always acting like she knew more than you. She constantly reminded you when she scored higher than you did. Especially on days you missed class because you were fighting her friends behind the school for stealing your books and homework. Samantha hated you were smarter than her.

Jeno sat down across from you. Many different colored sweets in his hand. He offered you a bright pink cotton-shaped candy but you shook your head. He shrugged moving closer to the window eating his sweets and watching each tree pass by. You turned to the book, eyeing the book of frogs. Maybe if you were going to Hogwarts it was time to leave the children's books behind and start focusing on things you'd need to know.

Like magic plants and their purposes. You opened the book to the first page. You noticed the book came from a library. You scanned the list of names. The last and most recent name reading was Huang Renjun.

----

At 11 years old you arrived at Hogwarts. At dusk, you traveled on a boat to reach the school. It was dark when you finally entered the school. You couldn't help but look and gawk at every piece of art, staircase, candle in the school. It was like something out of a storybook. The castle expanded the further you walked in. Feeling like the halls never ended.

You and the rest of the students were ushered into the dining hall. The tables quickly filled with kids just around your age. You stood close to Jeno. You both sat down at the same table. From where you sat you could see the kid from the train sitting beside a plumber boy with puffy pink lips. The two started talking becoming quick friends.

You looked away observing the rest of the room. Everything looked perfect, magical. Candles lit from the ceiling, floating over everyone. You could see stars from thousands of miles away. The table in front of you was filled with delicious full-course meals. The room was loud everyone excitedly getting to know one another and breathless taking in the large dining room.

You looked around the room eyes meeting with a brown-haired boy. He looked in your direction. Your eyes went big seeing him look back at you. A small smile formed on his lips. He waved at you. You raised your hand slowly waving back. Jeno leaned over your shoulder eyeing the direction you stared in. He zoomed in on the boy squinting his eyes. Once he realized you were making googly eyes to the boy he laughed.

You huffed rolling your eyes. "Ooo Y/n has a crush," he teased poking your shoulder repeatedly. You shrugged him off crossing your arms in front of you. "Shut up," you spat back annoyed. You looked away from him and at the new boy. He was laughing with a few boys next to him. Your hand rested on your palm eyes resting in his direction.

----

You were 11 when the sorting hat placed you in Gryffindor just after it placed Jeno there. You happily went to Jeno's side. Happy to remain close to your best friend.

You were 11 when the sorting hat placed that strange annoying boy with the glasses into Ravenclaw.

You were 11 years old when the boy with the brown hair and pink lips who you discovered was named Na Jaemin was placed into Slytherin. Your mother warned you of Slytherin's. But at that moment you had forgotten and were just happy to be with your best friend.

You looked at each boy and back at the room with a smile. You were ready to begin this new journey of your life.

Little did you know that these three boys would create such chaos in your life.

-----

You were in your second year at Hogwarts. Just twelve years old when your professor had to pair up with another student for a project in your Spells class. You went to choose Jeno, but your professor stopped you.

"Y/n," he called while everyone else found their partners.

You approached his desk Jeno waiting for you at your shared desk. "Yes?" you asked. He flicked away an inch on his nose. He motioned to the other students in the room. "You're a smart girl. Jeno doesn't need your help. I'm going to pair you up with a different student," he said. You weren't too worried about finding another partner. In your first year, you and Jeno made a new group of friends.

Still didn't mean you didn't want to pick your partner like everyone else.

"Who?" you asked. He pointed at a boy behind you. You turned and any worry about who it might be left your mind. It was the same brown-haired boy from the dining hall. The one with the big eyes and wide smile. He was leaning on his desk talking to a few of his friends. His head fell back in laughter.

"Jaemin," he said. You smiled a part of you excited. This was your chance to talk to him, get close to him. However, you had never really talked to a boy you liked before. Not without Jeno in your ear teasing you. This time it would be normal.

You made your way to him, a pep in your step. You tapped him on his shoulder. His friends, all Slytherin, eyed you. Their laughter dying down including Jaemin's. He turned his head over his shoulder tongue poking the inside of his mouth.

"Can I help you?" he said rather rudely. You brushed it off. Ignoring his bothered tone. "We're partners on the Spells project," you said. He scoffed leaning his body to you. "No we're not," he said. His friends started to chuckle. You could feel your cheeks heating up. You bit the inside of your mouth. It was getting harder to dismiss his tone.

You let out a sigh. "Look I don't want to be your partner either. Let's just get the project over with and I'll never speak to you again," you said annoyed. His laughter died down. He raised a brow pretending to think. He tapped his finger on his chin and then snapped his two fingers together.

"How about you do the entire project on your own and never speak to me again?" he said in the form of a question, a wide grin on his face. Just as you went to speak a book went flying to his head. Everyone turned to see who did it. Jeno had his arms crossed over his chest suspiciously looking the other way. You chuckled looking back at Jaemin who rubbed the back of his head.

He was the shortest crush you'd ever have.

-----

In year three you and Huang Renjun began to compete. You spent most of your time studying. Jeno being on the Quidditch team allowed you that extra time alone to study. You'd sometimes see Renjun in the library studying. You'd send glares to each other muttering under your breath.

In the classes you shared you'd always make sure your hand was up before his to answer the question the professor asked. At one point many students placed bets to see which of them would score higher on an exam.

You won almost every time.

----

By year four you and Jeno started to grow slightly distant. He was still always there for you and vice versa but things became more complicated when he started to become more curious about dating.

It seemed every week he had a new girl he liked. With a new girl in his life, he was crushing on.

You never paid too much attention to Jeno's dating life. Jeno for some reason loved to be involved in yours. You had a few crushes here and there but nothing ever too serious. He seemed to always want to know about them. If they were good enough for his best friend. If they treated you right.

But that's only for crushes he knew about. Most times he was playing Quidditch or with a girl.

You tended to focus more on your books anyway.

---

By year five you had officially hated Na Jaemin.

Jaemin seemed to pick you as his next victim. He teased you, but in the way Jeno did. When Jeno annoyed you it was out of friendship love. You knew deep down Jeno was harmless. But Jaemin was completely different. The boy was nutritiously known for playing around with girls before they slept with them, and then ghosted them.

You were not going to be one of those girls.

Jeno never really liked Jaemin either. Ever since he dissed you in front of the entire class during year two. However, there was not much he could say or do. The two of you in the Gryffindor common room had shared a moment togther.

He kissed you in the middle of the night. You kissed him back. He then asked you to the Yule ball. You said yes and when the night approached you saw him with another girl, laughing and dancing together. Then you saw them kiss later that night. Jaemin who saw the whole thing happened left you alone.

You weren't together but it still hurt.

That night you had your first argument with Jeno. Jeno was tired of you ignoring him. He just wanted to know what he did wrong. You told him and he became even more upset by your reasoning. He tried to explain the girl was his friend and he only danced with her because Jaemin stood her up.

He said "One Dance. I danced with her once because she was upset about Jaemin," he said.

"You still kissed her," you'd fight back. Jeno stunned and with a chest full of pain would ask. "You saw that?" to which you have replied with.

"Are you more upset that you hurt my feelings or that you got caught?"

You stopped being friends with him after that. It was too weird.

Renjun didn't bother you much during this time. You still competed but in silence.

Jaemin loved the fact you weren't friends anymore. It meant he could talk to you without Jeno getting in the way.

----

By year six you had gotten a boyfriend named Jaehyun. He was older than you and a Gryffindor as well. He was also captain of the Quidditch team. Jaehyun was a great guy. He treated you with respect and was very kind to you.

Jaemin and Jeno both didn't like him.

Jaemin still wouldn't leave you alone. Using magic to distract you during class.

Renjun became somewhat of your friend. He'd talk to you in the halls but it was really only to gloat about his accomplishments in and outside of Hogwarts. Any chance he got he would approach you. Reminding you that not only did he have rich parents but that he was smarter than you.

That same day would be the first time you got in serious trouble.

In the library, you used a spell to erase all his notes from year one to six. He failed his exam because of you. Your professors were disappointed. Word got out of what you did. Some people said you cheated. Others said he deserved it.

All you remember is that it made you feel good.

---

Now you'd start year seven. Much older and mature now. You and Jaehyun had broken up due to distance. You and Jeno were still not friends, Jaemin still enjoyed bothering you, and Renjun still hated you.

You still cared about Hogwarts, deeply. But not in the same way you had felt during year one. The same spark you had felt in the beginning began to fade. You started to imagine a world outside of Witchcraft. Maybe a normal job like your mom?

She was a witch and owned a flower shop in the muggle world. Maybe you could do something like that too.

So you thought.

To Be Continued...

Hope you enjoy my new series, Hogwarts Dreams at Night.

I'm excited for you all to read it!

See you soon ;)

Tag: @girlwholovesIpreppyattire

72 notes · View notes

ammg-old2 · 2 years ago

Text

It was December of 1996 when Karen Lips turned up the first bodies—and finally felt an ember of hope. As a graduate student working in the muggy forests of Central America, she’d noticed that an as-yet-unnamed culprit had been stripping the area of its frogs. Regions that had once rung with a chorus of croaks were silent and still, but no one had found the carcasses that could speak to a cause. With those finally in hand, “I remember thinking, Wow, this might actually be helpful,” Lips told me. Surely, data would beget a solution; surely, the frogs’ declines would now be reversed.

More than 25 years later, Lips has felt much of that early spark of hope fizzle and flame out. Scientists did indeed go on to identify the amphibian-killing pathogen: the fungus Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis, or Bd for short. But Bd has not been stopped. Instead, it has spread to every continent where frogs and their close cousins are found. “If you pick up an amphibian here in the U.S., on average you have a 50 percent chance of picking up one that’s infected with Bd,” said Lips, who now runs her own lab at the University of Maryland. Eradication is no longer possible; the fungus has established itself in too many animals, in too many places. Lips sometimes imagines the planet coated in a layer of fungus that grows back when poked, prodded, or torn. “I’m not sure I have optimism,” she told me, not anymore.

Bd is the paragon of a pandemic. It has been described as perhaps the most devastating disease the world has ever recorded, in terms of its species scope and death toll. A pathogen that wriggles inside amphibian skin cells and causes fatal heart attacks, the fungus is estimated to have contributed to the decline of about 500 amphibian species, about 90 of which have been driven to extinction; more are expected to follow, sending ripples through countless food webs. Bd is also, outside of tight circles of amphibian enthusiasts, little known, and barely addressed. For the network of researchers who have devoted decades of their lives to combatting it, hope has long been hard to keep alive. And in the past three years, as another outbreak—this one, a plague of humans—erupted into public consciousness, their prospects for success have felt even dimmer.

Bd wasn’t always thought of as a permanent planetary scourge. When scientists first began to study the pathogen, “it was not looked at as a hardy organism,” Lips told me. Several antifungals, including a drug called itraconazole, can easily wipe it out in test tubes; so can potent chemicals released by multiple species of bacteria, including some that naturally reside on certain amphibians’ skin. Researchers actually have to fight to keep the finicky fungus growing in the lab: Even small perturbations in temperature or salt content are enough to nuke it, forcing scientists to start their cultures over from scratch. “We used to joke about how easy it was to kill,” Lips said.

Out in the wild, though, Bd rapidly proved itself to be far more formidable. Some research suggests that the fungus can linger in the environment for days or weeks, awaiting its next host; it is a fast evolver, too, with the ability to essentially “add or kick out chromosomes at will,” says Trent Garner, a biologist at the Zoological Society of London and University College London. The range of animals it can trouble is also staggeringly large: The fungus seems to be able to infect just about any of the 8,000-plus species of amphibians it encounters, transmitting directly through skin-to-skin contact, or by releasing sperm-shaped spores into water. It’s hardy; it’s ubiquitous; it’s impossible to permanently purge. Boot it out of one population, and it just moves into the next.

Researchers, having acknowledged that Bd’s threat will never completely dissipate, still try their best to mitigate its harms. Antifungals work, at least in limited contexts: About a decade ago, a team of scientists led by Garner used them (along with disinfectants) to eliminate Bd from several ponds in Majorca, Spain. Some researchers are also experimenting with probiotics that can be slathered onto amphibians like “a topical yogurt” to imbue their skin with fungus-fighting bugs, says Molly Bletz, a disease ecologist and conservation biologist at UMass Boston who’s working on one such intervention. Other scientists are looking into Bd-focused vaccines, or selective breeding in captivity—even engineered genetic tweaks—that could make certain species less vulnerable to disease. Some researchers are trying to mobilize amphibians out of Bd-infested areas; chauffeur them into fungus-free havens; or seed their habitats with crustacean micropredators, such as water fleas, that might snarf Bd down.

The tricky thing with all of these tempering tactics, though, is that they’re ultra-laborious—with little guarantee that the effects will last. In zoos, frogs that are cleared of Bd with drugs get “reinfected all the time,” Lips told me. And that’s after researchers “treat them all,” a proportion that would be infeasible in the wild. The looming specter of fungal evolution also keeps herpetologists up at night. Obed Hernández-Gómez, an evolutionary ecologist at Dominican University, in California, has found that it can take as few as 15 generations for Bd to evolve resistance to the molecules made by certain probiotic bacteria; the case is probably comparable with antifungals, though the phenomenon hasn’t been well studied. Some also worry that any chemical, bacterial, or environmental intervention could come with serious consequences for creatures that coexist with frogs, or for the frogs themselves.

Vaccines could be a more lasting intervention, with fewer environmental ripple effects. But effective immunizations don’t yet exist. Cold-blooded amphibians are also a challenging group to vaccinate. “Their immune systems are really slow,” Bletz told me, especially when temperatures dip. Even vetted vaccines wouldn’t pass protection down through the generations, requiring scientists to make regular trips into the field. Interventions in captive contexts, too, may serve only as a stopgap. The idea is to “breed them, then return them to their habitats,” says Ana Longo, a herpetologist at the University of Florida. “But if the pathogen is still there, is it worth it to spend all this effort?”

People, too, could get their act together. Humans seem to have ferried the fungus, once restricted to parts of Asia, around the globe, via imported or stowaway amphibians. Better regulation of the international trade in these animals could reduce the global burden, but Bd has already spread to nearly all frog-inhabited corners of the world, save for maybe Papua New Guinea and a few nearby island outposts, and its ubiquity is seen by many as a foregone conclusion. Researchers have also been distracted, for the past 10 years or so, by another fungal outbreak caused by a sister species called Bsal that mainly targets salamanders. Bsal hasn’t yet been detected in North America, the “hot spot” of salamander diversity, Hernández-Gómez said, and the effort to keep it out has gobbled up herpetologists’ attention, pushing Bd to the sidelines. And among some policy makers, there’s been a pervasive attitude of “what exactly do you want us to do?” Lips told me. “It’s already here.”

That sentiment has seemed particularly familiar of late, Bd experts told me, now that the world is grappling with another pandemic-caliber disease, this one trained on humans. COVID has forced a reckoning with the same sorts of questions as the frog fungus, and produced similar stalemates: What level of suffering is sustainable, or tolerable? What do you do when a disease is still raging but many people seem to have tired of fighting it? As with Bd, the coronavirus has no silver-bullet solution. Both are here to stay.

Lips has been gathering data that could draw more direct connections between amphibians’ well-being and our own. She and her colleagues recently published a paper proposing that the decline of amphibians in Central America may have led to a boom in populations of mosquitoes—typical frog fare—and raised the risk of malaria among people. Though even infectious threats to Homo sapiens can be easy to ignore. Our response to the coronavirus pandemic, in particular, felt like “a slap in the face,” Hernández-Gómez said. “If humans don’t even care about a disease that’s killing off their own,” Bletz told me, “how are they going to care about something that affects amphibians?”

In broad strokes, much of the rest of the Bd and Bsal story may feel written: More populations will dwindle; more species will disappear, many of them far from human habitations, where they may, once again, escape the notice of most. Perhaps more species will ultimately adapt to resist or tolerate Bd, and so the struggle continues to “keep populations in the wild for as long a time as possible, to give more time for natural selection to act,” says Ben Scheele, a disease ecologist at Australian National University who’s working to save his nation’s corroboree frogs. But even on an evolutionary timescale, there are no guarantees: Where frogs go, the fungus seems to follow.

“There’s almost nothing we can do, in a way, and that’s the sad part,” says Timothy James, a chytrid-fungus expert at the University of Michigan. Lips has held dying frogs in her hand, each of them sluggish, discombobulated, and weak, sometimes to the point where they can no longer muster the energy to try to wrest themselves free. “They just sort of sit there, even if you bend to pick them up,” she told me. Their deaths are slow, subtle affairs—agonizing fades that have become, like so many other infectious endings, a kind of background noise.

Some of the experts I spoke with told me there is still plenty of room for optimism—that the efforts of the few could still turn the tide, especially against the less pervasive Bsal. Others, although far from giving up on the Bd battle, feel more conflicted. At the start of the COVID outbreak, Lips felt another wellspring of hope burble up in her chest. She gave talks. She told people, “This is not my first pandemic.” Maybe, she thought, there would be a surge in interest in infectious disease; maybe, she thought, people would understand the importance of conservation, and keeping ecosystems intact. That’s not what happened. “I had hoped COVID would be our success story,” she said. “But I went from ‘This will be a motivating factor to do better!’ to ‘Wow, we’re kind of losing momentum again.’”

Lips still remembers what Costa Rica’s tropics looked like in the 1990s, before Bd was truly known. She recalls the feeling of becoming enamored of the spectacular green coloring and the nubby spiked skin of the region’s Isthmohyla calypsa tree frogs. Isthmohyla calypsa is now no longer in Costa Rica: Bd has driven it out. And Lips no longer does much fieldwork. A lot of pain comes with confronting the froglessness—trying to count creatures that she and others worry will no longer be countable in a few years’ time. Lips’ current research—some of it geared toward influencing policy, and buoying biodiversity as a whole—does keep her going. But as the frogs continue to vanish, so too does the work of the scientists who study them. “Where do I go?” she said. “Where are the frogs?”

#environmentalism #ecology #zoology #herpetology #current events #frogs #fungi #batrachochytrium dendrobatidis

308 notes · View notes

ace-disgrace-on-the-case · 9 months ago

Text

Restore

I come bearing a wonderful gift, written by my wonderful friend @red-sprite!

The morning was early, the sky was grey, and the store was closed. Samantha was waiting by her car for the owner of the electronics store to open the front door, but her watch told her it was currently half an hour past opening and there was no-one in sight yet.

Looking in through the window the place reminded her of an old bookstore. You know the kind, the ones that seem to open whenever the owner feels like it, completely covered from floor to ceiling in books you can barely read the cover of. Antiquarians. She could see the remnants of a shelving system buried under strata of components, stretching around the corner into the darkness beyond.

Still, it was her best bet to find what she needed.

Ten minutes later the door opened, she hadn’t seen the owner arrive. Fifteen minutes and some smalltalk interwoven with project descriptions, she was about to walk out with her purchase. And that’s when she saw something she never thought she would.

An original AnTech, buried under a pile of merchandise. Her dome was stained, her screen was completely scuffed up, and the faded post-it said ‘As-is. No returns’.

Five minutes later she was secure in Samantha’s car.

The rest of the day was a blur. She finished the project, got it tested, got it packaged and shipped out. When she clocked out she’d almost forgotten this morning’s surprise. But not enough to lack a spring in her step when she made it to her car.

There, in the passenger seat, sat her find. In the light of the parking garage she looked like she was about to come alive. Samantha’s shadow danced over her scuffed faceplate as she passed the car, her arms resting in her lap.

‘You need a name, don’t you,’ Samantha thought to herself. ‘Ann sounds nice.’

The drive home was short. The trip up the stairs was very very long. As it turns out, hauling an immobile full-sized humanoid robot up three flights of stairs was a lot of work. She set Ann gently down in her comfy chair and went to work clearing her workbench. Projects half in-progress were bagged up, labelled and put away, tools were cleared, and finally she had enough space.

One last time she lifted Ann up, from her chair, to lay her as gently as she could on the workbench. Under the harsh fluorescent light it was finally visible just in what sort of condition she was. Samantha went over her section by section, noting all the outward damage. Scuffed faceplate, she knew that one. Seized motor on her left elbow, to be expected. Dent in the abdominal covering, possible impact, have to check the underlying actuators. Scuffs on legs, rattling in left ankle joint. Also very very dusty.

Knocking off the initial dust was the easy part. Finding the proprietary bits for her screwdrivers was slightly harder, but thankfully she had an extensive collection. The first thing she took off was the face plate. Four screws held it in place, now neatly extracted and marked where they go. The plate came off, connected only by a short ribbon cable. It took her a moment to find a good angle to disconnect it, but after that she was able to place the assembly to the side. Under the faceplate there was the sensor suite; cameras, both visible light and IR, depth-sensors, audio receptors tucked into the sides of the cavity, and at the bottom, the release for the chest covering.

Samantha pulled it gently, hoping that it wasn’t seized up. When she heard the click, she breathed a sigh of relief and held it in almost as quickly. She’d finally get a view of how Ann looked inside. Would all the components be present, would there be any damage, had she been scavenged for parts? It was all a big uncertainty, but there was only one way to find out.

She extracted her hand, and moved it over under Ann’s arms. Then she pulled.

The cavity opened before her, slowly bathed in the fluorescent light as deft hands maneuvered the cover away from its mounting points. There, inside, she saw a plethora of parts. All the ones she knew were supposed to be there were accounted for, and a few ones she didn’t expect caught her eye.

Breathe out.

Ann was complete, everything else was a matter of restoring. She could do this.

She lifted the cover the rest of the way off, and flipped it around. The dent was superficial, and it didn’t look like the force impacted beyond the insulation. She put the cover to the side.

Figuring out the order of cleaning was, on the one hand, a daunting process. On the other, cable layout dictated order nine out of ten times. Samantha had only worked on less sophisticated models in the past, but the principles were exactly the same. The power and data cables ran all over Ann’s chassis like a spider’s web. But like a spider, Samantha could read them. She knew them by sight, by location, by feeling. One by one they came undone until they revealed the city that lay underneath.

Heat exchangers rose like buildings on a city of green, highways of copper connected everything to everything else, crowded out by vast daughterboards rising perpendicular to the cavity.

Samantha set to work, disconnecting each component, slowly and lovingly taking Ann to pieces. Heat sink, to the side. Fans, to the side. Boards, to the side. Not all of them were standard, and Samantha could only guess to the function of some of them. Clearly Ann had not been a standard model.

She took a spray and diligently brushed each connector until it shone like it was fresh from the factory. Every single speck of dust removed, every pin straightened, every single capacitor checked.

She extracted the battery pack. Light, for what it was, but still one of the heavier components. Also probably completely dead.

Samantha lifted it out of the chassis, onto the small part of her workbench that was still free, and pulled out her tester to confirm. It wouldn’t even show a reading. She grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down the part number. With any luck it’d be a standard type, and the extent of the anti-tampering would be the screws.

Half an hour of searching later, she found the battery was an available size and could be ordered without problem. Express shipping was worth it.

She turned her attention back to Ann.

The battery could be replaced last. It was not interfering with any of the other components. The working memory modules slid in easy save for the final lock. Those always took more pressure than she liked to put onto delicate components. It left a mark on her hand.

The permanent storage was next. A big heavy box screwed into place on shock mounts to prevent the fragile internals from suffering damage when the frame moved about.

The daughterboards, slotted into the exact slots they came out of – she checked. Thrice. Screwed into place on their retaining brackets.

The fans, cleaned and lubricated, reinstalled on the processors.

And finally, the web of cables. Data cables, power cables, crossed all along the cavity to reach from everywhere to everywhere. Each of them seated with care.

She brought her power supply over to the workbench and dialed it in exactly to the battery specifications. One clip to the positive, one clip to the negative. Tomorrow would be a big day.

AnTech-G-25036 woke up. It was midnight on January 1st 1970. She couldn’t see for the blinding light. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel her face, or her arms, or her legs. She tried to move. Nothing happened. There was something on her chest. Her chest was open. She tried to think back, there were no memories before now. She tried to–

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

The voice was soft, soothing. Her ears were working. She stopped trying.

Tapping noises came from somewhere. They felt distant and close at the same time.

“There, will you try again?” Three taps sounded.

AnTech-G-25036 woke up. Her last memories were decades ago. There had been a battery failure. She had fallen down. Then there was nothing. Nothing for a long time until she woke up in the blinding light.

“Can you speak?”

She didn’t know. Could she? There were many things that she could before that she couldn’t now. Like move her arms. She tried.

“I… think so?”

There was a high-pitched sound that was hard to parse. Then more sounds, and finally more speech.

“I’m so sorry. Here.”

The light faded, and she felt her head be turned. A face came in view, her emotional recognition processes supplied [happy], [excited], [holding back]. Something supplied [pretty].

“Hi, my name is Samantha. You were damaged, and I’m restoring you.”

New contact registered: Samantha

Current list of contacts: Samantha

Time since factory reset: 30 years

Time since product end of life: 32 years

Accessing AnTech servers for revised EOL date: [server not found]

“Why?”

“Because a lot of love went into making you, and I don’t believe you deserve to be tossed aside.”

There was a process inside her that wasn’t standard from the factory. It was supplying data that she didn’t understand and reaching conclusions that she didn’t know what to do with.

“What should I do?”

User input overrode most any other process. Listening to Samantha would help.

“I will work on your hardware. Will you run AnDiagTxt for me and write the result to your secondary output?”

She did as she was told, running the program that could tell a technician every status of every component of every part of her. Something supplied [intimate] and [vulnerable].

She let the program run, aware of its process, and how it was probing every part of her. She could feel it try to reach her legs, which weren’t there. Tried to reach her arms, which weren’t there. Tried to reach her face, which wasn’t there. It found her voice, it found her camera. It found her processors and fans. It found cables. So many cables attached from her, diagnostic ports, secondary output, keyboard, there was… the correct voltage from her battery, but no battery in the housing. More cables, snaking out like an umbilical cord tethering her to the workbench.

She saw Samantha turn her face from the camera and towards something out of view. As the program ran, her eyes were focused on it. When it finished, her emotional recognition processes supplied [satisfied] [happy].

Samantha turned back towards the camera, and she could feel a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you back up and running in no time.”

No time turned out to be an overstatement on the speed, but the progress was consistent. The first thing she hooked back up was the actuator for the camera. AnTech-G-25036 could look around now and take in more of the workspace. There was a chair that housed several components, including two AnTech arms and two AnTech legs. There was a fluorescent light fixture directly overhead. If she turned the camera away, she would not be blinded. She could not move her head. Samantha said that happened later in the process.

“Do you have a name?”

The question surprised her. Names were for people, not for AnTech products.

“I am AnTech-G-25036”

She turned her camera towards Samantha. Her emotional recognition processes supplied [concentrated] and [comfortable].

Samantha had an arm on her lap. There was a spraycan on the desk, and a screwdriver in her hand. She was manipulating the elbow joint. Every cycle, it moved more until with a final [click] it completed its full range of motion. Samantha manually took it through its motions twice before inverting it to inspect the contacts.

“That is what AnTech called you. What would you like to be called?”

She didn’t know. She didn’t remember having wants before. She could feel her fans speed up as her processors tried to construct metrics by which to tackle this problem. Her processors stayed cool. The fans felt smooth in their housing.

She could ask Samantha. User input can often break process deadlocks.

“What do you think I should be called, Samantha?”

The processes slowed down and then stopped. The fans were quiet. AnTech-G-25036 was focused solely on input processing.

“I’ve been calling you Ann. Is that a name you’d like?”

She did not remember liking things before. She did not remember being allowed to like things before. How would she know what to like, how would she know the correct things to like?

Something supplied [yes].

The fans slowed down.

“Yes.”

Samantha finished with the contacts and walked up to the workbench.

“Ann it is then, pleasure to meet you Ann!”

Emotional recognition: [smile] [happy] [satisfied]

Something: [warm] [safe] [self]

Samantha stood by the workbench, Ann’s arm in her hands. “May I attach this component, Ann?”

It was not something she’d ever heard before. It wasn’t a user command, it wasn’t a query, it wasn’t a request for action.

Whatever it was, the answer was clear as day. “Yes.”

She took the detached arm in one hand and clicked it into place. It felt… smooth. It felt cool and clean and better than it had in a long time.

Ann moved her arm. Her secondary display lit up with all the new data being sent and received. Her Something lit up with somethings.

The next stretch of time really did feel like no time at all to Ann. So many new sensations to process from within and from without.

“May I?”

“You may.”

Her other arm felt as smooth as the first, able to move with a grace she had forgotten she could have.

“May I?”

“You may.”

Her legs, stable and strong. Moving with strength and finesse not seen since she was new, and even then.

“May I?”

“You may.”

Her torso cover clicked into place, dent completely removed by Samantha’s hand.

Her camera was focused on the technician now, holding the last piece of herself. A coarse white paste coated her faceplate and Samantha was rubbing a cloth over it. Every pass made it look more scratched and opaque until the final one, where it emerged spotless, restored to the mirror sheen she could barely remember it being.

She handed it to Ann, who took it wordlessly. With mechanical precision and effortless finesse, she connected it. Finally sliding the last centimeters home until a ‘click’ was the only sound audible in the workspace. Her fans were silent and smooth as the screen behind her face came to life for the first time in decades. The image on it mirrored the camera’s, an expression of care, of trust, of something.

Ann reached out with her hand, smooth and controlled, to touch Samantha’s cheek.

“May I?”

“Please.”

She leaned forward until her camera was as close as it could be to her technician’s face without touching.

And then moved the final distance.

#post #robot girl #beep boop #writing

34 notes · View notes

grandmother-goblin · 1 year ago

Text

Field Study - Chapter 1

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: Grappling with changes that came along with his newfound freedom, Astarion unexpectedly catches feelings for a socially awkward, yet incredibly sweet, ranger from Neverwinter. Astarion doesn’t want to put a name to those feelings. Doesn’t want an attachment that could be ripped away at a moments notice. But damn, does Cas makes his conviction to remain unattached, to use her as a tool, seem impossible.

Relationships: Astarion x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for eventual smut.

Word Count: 4.5k

Chapter Tags: Mentions of past trauma, manipulation, alcohol use, vampire typical blood drinking.

Fear had a way of leaving scars on the mind like blows left bruises and cuts on the skin. No amount of wine could wash away his nightmare, but that did not stop Astarion from trying.

Crickets chirped into the crisp night air and the occasional frog croaked somewhere deep in the dense foliage bordering the nearby river. Even if running water once burned his skin like acid, Astarion hoped the sounds of the gentle river and creatures of the night would lull him back into some sense of calm. Those failing, however, he could at least count on the alcohol content of the shitty wine he swiped from the Druid’s grove.

It was better than nothing.

Astarion let the glass bottle dangle between his fingers as he leaned against the mossy base of an old tree. Between its sparse leaves, the light from the stars and moon dotted the grass beneath his feet with silver slivers. A beautiful night, under any other circumstance.

As it was, between the nightmare and the novelty of sleeping in the woods, Astarion felt like someone or something was lurking in every shadow, waiting for the right moment to strike. Despite most of his companions sleeping meters away, and another patrolling the area on the lookout for such threats, Astarion had tucked a dagger into his belt before he snuck off alone.

In the days since they escaped the mind flayer ship, Astarion had volunteered to keep watch at night. Brain worm or not, Astarion still needed to hunt. Even if everyone in his vicinity was on the cusp of becoming monsters themselves, he still couldn’t trust them with the knowledge of his affliction. Most didn’t seem to suspect a thing. Even if they did, walking in sunlight kept that suspicion from turning into an accusation.

What would Cazador do to him when he learned Astarion could walk in the sun, and he couldn’t? Astarion took a swig of wine and grimaced.

Cazador would probably just kill him.

Being able to walk in the sun would be completely unacceptable to his master. No. His ex-master. Astarion let the wine linger on his tongue for a moment.

Was Cazador still his master? Did he still have complete and utter control over him? The illithid tadpole had changed so many things. So many of the rules that all vampires had to abide by, no matter how powerful they became. Were Cazador’s commandments among them?

There was nothing stopping Astarion from finding out. The first rule was by far the easiest one to test. Thou shalt not drink from thinking creatures. Four such creatures laid in the bedrolls, helpless in their sleep, curled up by the campfire. The fifth… who knew where the hells Cas went. Supposedly, she was keeping watch, but Astarion had not seen a glimpse of her in the half an hour he’d been up.

From the little he knew about Cas, she seemed to be the responsible sort. So either something terrible happened or she was just lurking nearby with her nose buried in that journal she always seems to be writing in. Cas had explained it was a field journal. Astarion saw a drawing of a leaf on one page so he assumed it was all nature related, but he did not care enough to confirm.

Closing his eyes, the sounds of nature served as a soothing background to the thoughts trampling through his mind. Would it be worth the risk? To try to bite one of his companions? No. He should just wait until… he had an opportunity that might never come. Something stirred in his stomach, a mixture of fear and anxiety that made him want to get up and do something. Clearly just ruminating on his problems only made them grow.

“Astarion?”

Astarion started, eyes flying open while his hand gripped the hand of the dagger that was tucked into his belt. Embarrassment flooded his face from his cheeks to the tips of his ears when his eyes landed on someone who was very much not a threat. At least, not at the moment. He was so in his head that for a split second he thought it was Cazador. Not that Cazador sounded at all like that or would speak to him so gently.

It was just Cas.

Although Cas wore the same leather and hides she did in battle, she clearly was not expecting a fight. For one, her brown hair fell a few inches past her shoulders instead of tied back in a ponytail and her beige coat made from some animal’s hide was tied around her narrow waist, leaving her upper half completely unarmored and vulnerable.

Cas crossed her bow-toned arms, her expression utterly unreadable except for the smallest hint of amusement on her lips. “This is the second time you’ve pulled a knife on me, Astarion,” she said, as if she was admonishing a child for staying up past bedtime. “Is there something we need to talk about? Anything you want to get off your chest?”

Astarion exhaled, tension flowing out of him with the breath. “Terribly sorry,” he said with an apologetic grin. “I wasn’t expecting to see your lovely face at this time of night. You never know what could be lurking in the shadows.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, dismissing his second attempt on her life just as easily as she did the first time. “I didn’t mean to creep up on you.”

Astarion chuckled despite himself and pulled his hand from the hilt of his dagger. “Apology accepted, my dear.”

Cas adjusted her bow over her shoulder and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes following the blinking fireflies that permeated the night sky. Silence fell between them and somewhere near the river a frog croaked over the chirping crickets like a crier over a crowd, but Cas seemed unbothered by the sudden lapse in conversation that Astarion found uncomfortable at best. Unfortunately, Cas could not hold a conversation nearly as well as she could hold a knife or a bow.

Astarion sat up and cleared his throat. “Did you need something? Or are you just going to stand there like foliage?”

Brown eyes flickered to him. “You should be resting for tomorrow,” she said. “What are you doing up?”

“I’ve gotten my rest for the evening,” Astarion lied easily. There was no way he was going to share his nightmare with her. Even though she did seem to be the trustworthy sort, Astarion did not want to involve her in his business if he didn’t have to. “Besides, I got a feeling you might need some help keeping watch. You’ve been doing a piss-poor job considering you’ve been missing for the last half an hour.”

Cas rolled her eyes. “I was checking the fish traps, if you must know,” she said. “With the pemmican I made yesterday, we should have enough food to last a while if we don’t care for variety. But eating the same thing day after day can get tiresome.”

“True,” Astarion said and tried not to think about the thousands upon thousands of rats and bugs Cazador forced upon him.

For the first time in two hundred years, he could actually pick what he wanted to eat. The wilderness provided an endless array of entrees to choose from: deer, boars, bears, whatever he wanted really. Maybe, just maybe, even the wood elf standing right in front of him was fair game. Maybe when she turned in for the night, he could….

No. Even entertaining the thought could spell trouble, given the brain worms and their unpredictable tendency to link minds when he least expected it. The last thing he needed was to be chased out of the only group of people that might be able to help him.

Yet, the thought persisted. Out of everyone in their rag-tag party, Cas seemed the least likely to murder him on the spot. Especially given how she so willingly accepted a Gith into their little group. Surely a vampire was not as bad as a Gith, right?

He needed to hunt. It had been almost a day since his last meal and, although he was used to being hungry, it was still something he’d rather avoid. Going out into the forest was another thing he’d rather avoid given his nightmare. Cazador could have lackeys lurking anywhere, ready to kill him or worse. Between the Gith and the famed Blade of Frontiers, they might think twice before tangling with his new companions. Even Cas, a backwoods ranger from Neverwinter, was a force to be reckoned with.

“Would you care for some company?” asked Cas as she shoved her hands in her pockets, trying much too hard to pretend she didn’t care about his answer.

Astarion raised his brows but gave her a flirtatious smile, inviting her to join him. “What kind of company are you offering, darling?”

“The quiet kind that won’t wake up the whole camp,” she said and settled into the grass next to him, close enough that he could feel her warmth.

Personal space, he realized early on, was not something Cas was great at. When they had been at the Emerald Grove, Nettie had all but told Cas to stop breathing down her neck while she dug up notes on the tadpole from Archdruid Halsin. Astarion did not take the proximity personally. It was just how she was and, in that moment, he was fine with that.

“A pity,” Astarion said with a wry grin. “We could always ask them to join us.”

Cas snorted softly and shook her head. “I would rather we didn’t, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Not fond of our companions, are you?”

She shrugged. “I like them when they aren’t talking to me like I’m an idiot.”

“Ah, so not at all then,” Astarion replied lightly.

Cas did have a point. The Gith talked down to everyone, which was to be expected from her people and her way of life, but the others did not have such a strong excuse. While Gale was polite, he tended to talk to Cas as if she were a child. Shadowheart also acted like Cas was burdened with some inexplicable naïveté about how the world worked. Lucky for him, their companions had set the bar for common decency so low Astarion tiptoed over it without even noticing.

Well, he and Wyll. But Wyll seemed far too focused on finding a devil called Karlach to pay Cas much mind.

Clearly not wanting to gossip too much about their companions, Cas changed the subject and they fell into easy conversation. Oddly enough, chatting with Cas felt almost natural. Perhaps it was because she wasn’t some unlucky soul he was seducing to bring back to Cazador. Or one of his siblings who would have pounced on the opportunity to stab him in the back. Not that Astarion could trust Cas, but she was pleasant enough that he could at least try to enjoy himself.

For a few precious moments, Astarion even forgot about his nightmare. But it crept back all too soon, like little tendrils of smoke that grew until it completely clouded his mind.

It wasn’t like Cazador could let him have anything nice. Not even a moment.

Cas seemed like the type that would have delighted Cazador. Exactly the type Astarion would have targeted whilst prowling the taverns and inns of Baldur’s Gate to bring back for him. Attractive, young, and stupidly trusting. It would have been all too easy to lure Cas back to the palace. Just some wine and a few kisses, he would touch her just right and make her want more, then he would walk her through doors that she would never walk out of again.

Cazador would get a lovely meal and Astarion would be left with nothing but hollow numbness.

But it didn’t have to be that way anymore, did it?

Regret started gnawing at the back of his mind as Astarion noticed a vein on her wrist. He never should have asked for her to stay. Not a slight on her company, of course. He was just too hungry to think straight.

Were she not the most valuable ally he had in recent memory, he’d have half a mind to pin her down and sink his fangs into her skin. Maybe she would fight him, maybe she would submit. He had never bitten someone smart enough to truly fight back, so he had no idea what to expect.

Astarion swallowed and stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. Just not at her. Not at the lovely veins on her wrists and necks. Trying to focus on only the sounds of crickets contested against the metronome of her pulse.

He should really leave before he did something stupid. If he even could do something stupid with Cazador’s commandments still ringing in his ears. If he tried to take a bite, could he—

“I’ve been thinking a bit about the other night.” Cas brought her knees up to her chest, snapping him from his thoughts. “When you said you didn’t want me to run off when all of this is over.”

“What about it?” He had forgotten that entire conversation until she mentioned it. It was adorable that she remembered.

“What would you want to do?”

“You know, I hadn’t thought that far.” He hadn’t thought about it at all, truthfully. “Like I said before, you’re an incredible ally. It would be a shame just to go on our merry way once the brain bug is gone. But when it comes to what to do—” Astarion gave her a suggestive smile and lowered his voice “—I can think of a few things.”

Cas rolled her eyes as if she were painfully aware of his attempt to steer the conversation in another direction. “Don’t you have loved ones back in the city? A life you want to get back to?”

“Not one I want to return to, no,” Astarion replied and averted his eyes to the forgotten bottle of wine dangling between his fingers. Though the mind flayers inadvertently allowed him to flirt with freedom, at the end of the day he was still bound to Cazador. The last two hundred years had been focused around that bastard up until a couple days ago. The mere thought of returning was enough to make his throat feel tight. “We don’t need to talk about it.”

“I wasn’t going to pry,” said Cas as she bumped his shoulder good-naturedly. “Put that face away before you wear it out.”

His brows drew together. “What face?”

“The one with sad puppy eyes.”

“I don’t make ‘puppy eyes,’” Astarion rebuffed, only slightly offended by the accusation. Not that he had seen his eyes in two hundred years, but vampires were better known for piercing, blood-chilling, glares than sweet ‘puppy eyes’. Astarion scoffed at the sheer audacity of the statement.

“You do too,” she said with a soft giggle. “Even though they’re red like a vampire’s, they’re surprisingly effective.”

His stomach sank. Surely she didn’t mean anything by the comparison, right? No need for the hair on the back of his neck to stand on end, though they did anyway.

Astarion forced a smile as he passed her the bottle of wine. “That’s an oddly specific description, darling.”

“If the shoe fits.” Cas smiled back and tapped her dainty white canine teeth to emphasize that his eyes were not the only things she noticed. “I think they’re very pretty, by the way. I didn’t mean any offense.”

“None taken.” Astarion idly tore at the blades of grass beside him and tried to quiet his nerves. “Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if I was a vampire?”

“You specifically?”

“Humor me.”

Cas stretched her long legs out in front of her and leaned back on her palms, chewing her lip as she took her dear sweet time mulling over her answer. Several long seconds passed. That croning frog started up again, and Astarion briefly considered adding the nuisance to the menu that evening.

“Nothing,” she said finally and took a swig directly from the bottle. “Why would I do anything?”

“Really?” He turned to face her, his eyes wide (and definitely not ‘puppyish’). “You’re confronted with a monster who wants nothing more than to drink your blood, and you wouldn’t want to ram a stake through my heart?”

“Well, I’m assuming you’re not trying to murder me,” she said. “Obviously I would defend myself if you were. But if you’re not trying to murder me, and you happened to be a vampire, why would I do anything at all? It’s not like our situation has changed.”

“Except it has, sweetheart.” Astarion wrapped his fingers lightly around her wrist, his thumb brushing over her pulse, feeling it beat against his skin. “Because if I were a vampire, I would need a source of blood to stay strong.”

Cas looked down at where his ivory skin practically glowed against her rich copper flesh but made no move to pull away. “Plenty of bandits and animals out there,” she said, her voice nonchalant even as he heard her heartbeat quicken. “You’d be doing us a favor.”

“But what if I wanted something a little closer to camp?” Astarion traced his thumb over the dark blue veins of her inner wrist. Her pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the noises of the night. His mouth almost watered just from the gentle throb of her pulse beneath his fingers.

“I’m not sure how accepting our companions would be,” Cas said, talking as if they are merely picking a spot to have dinner with no regard to what was on the menu.

“And what about you?”

Deep brown eyes locked onto his, both curious and maybe a little hesitant. “Is this still hypothetical or is this a confession?”

“A confession, darling,” he said with a breath of laughter, like she should have known the conversation was never hypothetical to begin with. “What do you say? It won’t hurt, I promise.” His eyes dropped to her slender neck. “Please.”

Her chest rose with a deep and steady breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. “I’m not worried about it hurting.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s risky,” she said. “And I’m not too keen on dying, either by turning into a vampire or by exsanguination. Or having to fight you off of me. I know my limits and you’ll probably win if it comes to that.”

“I’m merely a spawn, so I can’t turn you. As for your other concerns—” he brushed a loose strand of hair away from her neck, eyeing a dark vein crawling towards her pointed ear “— I’ll be careful. If I go too far, I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”

A flicker of a memory passed through his mind accompanied by a needle like prick to his brain as the worm connected their thoughts. For an instant, he saw through Cas’s eyes: a warm, wooden, candlelit washroom with a porcelain wash basin below a rustic mirror framed with tree branches. A handsome male wood elf stooped over the basin. With a blood soaked towel pressed against his neck, his expression was utterly calm in the mirror as he said something muffled by the memory. Astarion couldn’t be sure, but he swore he heard the word ‘mistake’ in the elven tongue. When he dunked the towel into the basin, four deep puncture wounds marred the side of his neck and dragged towards the front of his throat. Blood trickled down the basin and so did the memory, fading into anger, fear, and a strange sense of admiration.

Astarion blinked away the vision and his eyes fell to her neck. To the same spot where the wood elf from memory was bitten. Just below the jawline.

If the worm showed any of his memories to Cas in return, she did not acknowledge it. Maybe, in some cases, the connection could be one sided. There was still so much they didn’t know about the beasts nestled in their heads, but it had only helped them so far. Astarion in particular. It wanted him alive, and it wanted him to see that particular memory. Astarion did not know what it meant, nor did he think it was a good time to ask. Not when he felt so close to something so forbidden.

“I think if you want to have your fangs at my throat,” Cas began slowly and produced a dagger from a holster latched around her thigh, “then it’s only fair I can hold this to yours. For insurance.”

Astarion eyed the white metal blade he had seen cut through goblins like butter. “That won’t be necessary, my dear,” he said with a forced smile that he hoped was reassuring. “I’m not some monster. I won’t go too far, I promise.”

“Then we shouldn’t have a problem,” she said. “Up to you.”

Astarion gave an exasperated sigh. It was too good of an opportunity and he would have been a fool to pass it up. “Fine,” he said as if she suggested he wash dishes or some other mundane chore. “Come here. Let’s make ourselves comfortable.”

After a short, albeit awkward, conversation, they figured that it would be easiest for Cas to sit on his lap facing him. With her knees dug into the earth on either side of his hips and the side of her face pressed against his cheek, any onlooker would think they were a couple of lovers having a midnight rendezvous.

Though her dagger did not touch his skin, he could feel its presence like a pair of eyes watching from the darkness. Astarion wrapped one arm around her waist and brought his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her hair aside like a silken curtain. He dipped his head and the tip of his nose traced the column of her neck as he inhaled her scents. The salt of her skin mixed with campfire smoke caught in her leathers barely masked the rich aroma of her blood. Saliva pooled in his mouth in anticipation of the decadence beneath her skin.

“Remember, not too much,” she cautioned, her voice low. “I don’t want to be woozy tomorrow.”

He did not dare to move. Not when he was so close. “You can trust me, darling,” he said, his lips hot against her neck as if the ghost of a kiss would soothe her.

His heart raced and a chill crept up his spine. What if he couldn’t do it? What if Cazador’s commandments still had a hold over him? He opened his mouth and let the tips of his fangs graze her delicate skin.

Only one way to find out.

Muscles tightened beneath his fingers and Cas gasped in his ear. Blood, the most amazing blood he had ever tasted, filled his mouth and trickled down his throat.

Warmth blossomed through him, starting at his stomach and reaching his fingertips. His arms wrapped around her small frame tighter, holding onto her like a moment about to fade away. The blood was decadent. Savory. Like the most perfectly cooked steak in the fanciest restaurant in town or a vintage wine a lord would serve his guests on a special occasion. In comparison, an animal’s blood was like boiled rice and watered down beer. No wonder Cazador forbade it: it was just another way to deprive his slaves of any semblance of joy the world had to offer.

Gods. It was wonderful. Incredible, even. The blood still flowed from his bite mark on her neck, but he already found himself wanting to sink his fangs into her again. And again. And again.

“Astarion.” He felt the vibrations of her voice when she spoke, quiet yet commanding. “That’s enough.”

He wanted to pretend he didn’t hear her, but the cold metal against his neck quickly changed his mind. He dragged his tongue across the fresh wound, lapping up the blood with the efficiency of a cat before he withdrew from her.

“That was amazing,” he marveled as he licked the last of the blood from his lips.

Cas stumbled off of him, legs shaking and face pale as she sank into the grass beside him. She pulled her bag into her lap, retrieved a clean rag and pressed it against her neck. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead, and it almost looked like she was going to be sick, which would have completely spoiled the moment.

After a few seconds, Cas asked him to open the water bottle that was in her bag since both of her hands were currently occupied. One kept her from slumping into the grass while the other was red with blood that seeped through the rag.

She splashed a fresh towel with the water and wiped at her neck. “Water can’t take the place of a healing salve, but at least it can wash away some of the anticoagulant in your saliva.” She tried to laugh but it came out more of a pant. “As if nature didn’t make vampires deadly enough.”

Astarion must have made a face because a weak smile tugged at her lips. ‘Anticoagulant’ was not the most appealing word to hear after the best meal of his life. However, it seemed she knew what she was talking about. The first rag, once a beige color, had already turned a deep red. However, Astarion was too caught up in the exhilaration of drinking the blood of his first thinking creature to dwell much on it.

Exsanguination be damned, he could not remember the last time he felt so strong. So happy.

Cas scooted back until she could lean against the tree. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm as she closed her eyes.

Something stirred within him, deep and primal, and he found himself leaning over her. The scent of her blood was still so strong, captured in that rag she pressed to her neck. Before he could get any closer, he felt a firm push against his chest.

“Don’t you dare,” Cas said, but without any malice behind her words. Like a playful warning, knowing what he wanted to do yet believing he would not actually do it.

Oh how wrong she was.

Lucky for her, she still had her uses.

Astarion put some distance between them despite his every instinct urging him to keep feeding. He cleared his throat. “As delicious as you are darling, I should probably find something more filling,” he said. Then, just to be polite towards his most gracious donor, he added, “Do you need anything before I set off?”

Cas shook her head. She pulled the towel away and dabbed at her neck with two fingers, winced, and replaced the rag. “I’ll feel better once I eat,” she said and began to shift through her bag with her free hand. “You probably will too. Happy hunting, Astarion.”

For some reason, the words made him feel warm inside. Or maybe it was just the blood. In any case, he found himself smiling at her. “This was a gift, you know. I won’t forget it,” he said and stalked off into the forest, his nightmare long behind him.

---

Next Chapter

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x female tav #astarion fanfic #astarion smut #field study bg3 fanfic #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

77 notes · View notes

kumikuzushi · 8 months ago

Text

12 : 51 - chapter one

Assassination Classroom

Gakushu Asano x F Reader !!

Author's Note : One of my favorite characters! But sadly not enough content of him out there TOT so here's my shot eheheh this story will be put into chapters hopefully I will be able to update in a reasonable time but here's chapter one!! I hope people enjoy :)

(she/they pronouns is used for reader!)

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪

"Good evening (name), we bumped into eachother this afternoon and you dropped your test paper on the ground. You were quite in a hurry earlier so I wasnt able to give it back, Would you like it back?"

(name) read through the message for the 6th time this minute, scanning through the words with heavy eyelids begging to rest, it was a message from Gakushu three hours ago.

She read the text message once again, despite memorizing each words of the text, she examine the words with a hint of hope that she might had skipped over a word.

Earlier that day, the teenager was walking back home, (name) was with Kayano, Nagisa and a bunch of her other e-class classmates when they separated ways, (name) was first to bid her goodbyes as she has a different route than the rest of the group. (Reader and Asano lives in the same neighborhood)

(name) was wearing the winter uniform of their school since December finally came and it was starting to be more chilly. With a scarp wrapped around her neck and lower face, adding the fact it was already 4:30 pm.

It was yet still so early but the cold breeze made the teen drowsy.

With a tired mind—(name) had just close their eyes for 3 seconds before the feeling of a bump of another person's body immediately woke them up. The force wasn't that strong as it just slightly pushed them but strong enough to cause a few of her papers to fall off her loose divider.

(name) immediately shook her head awake and stood up straight, the girl was about to bow at what she first thought was a stranger.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry-" Her apology was cut off when she realized the figure, strawberry-blonde strands that don't fail to daze her—immediately got recognized by (name)— so much that they froze on their spot. "My apologies also, please let me help you." Gakushu examine, slightly fixing himself after the event with a gentle pat before turning to (name).

Witnessing that he was about to turn, the (color-haired) girl looked away - half of her face covering by the hue of her hair.

Despite the unclear angle, When Gakushu completed sighted the person he bumped into to - he immediately recognized the hue and essence of theirs.

"oh, (last-name)-san" There was a quick flinch shown by (name) upon Gakushu calling them by their last name, it felt eerie to the teen. Though just when Gakushu was about to add to his sentence - the girl curled their whole body away to the other way.

"I'm sorry for bumping into you, I have to go."

She spoke with depth before not wasting any time walking away from the male, the first step away from the strawberry-blonde was describe instant regret by (name), Gakushu wanted to call out for (name) but nothing came out of his mouth as it was now too late that the girl is far from his reach.

At that moment when Gakushu watched the girl walked away from him—(name) the other hand, left the scene with a part of her to also stop on her tracks and say something but her legs just continue to move with a mind of its own, the breeze got colder when she saw him again, all the memories came rushing back to her head in those seconds. In one point the girl stopped and with a crack breath - she looked back to check the male.

Her lips frowned, seeing that the male was also walking away - the gush of wind blew the strands of hair away. The feeling of relapsing rushed all over her body as this time—she watched the male leave, just in this case (name) watched him until he completely disappeared on sight.

Coming back from her memories, (name) blinked and then stared up to her ceiling.

The outline shape of the moon shined through her window—her whole body was wrapped nicely with a thick blanket but yet the breeze was still cold on her skin. (name) didn't realize she was tearing up, they cursed under their breath upon realizing that they were crying. Sitting up - she blinked to stop a crystal from falling before whipping the drops of tear with her hand.

(name) hands drop down to her lap, at that point her irises was tearing up even more. She already accepted the fact he was no longer hers—though (name) knew he was never officially hers nor was she was officially his.

The fragile teen was struggling to grasp the acceptance that Asano Gakushu is day by day becoming a stranger in her chapter.

(name) read through the message one last time before finally typing out an respond back.

"No thank you :)"

ᯓ★

Another few dawns and midnights passed, (name) and some of the e-class was in the Main building of Kunugigaoka merely just passing by to exit the school grounds, like usual most students from the upper classes watched the e-class with a smirk, and eyeing them with aversion. Everyone in the class just put their head down - ignoring the laughter and stares when passing by.

"Hey watch this" A student from class B whispered to his classmate as he secretly extended his foot - Manami who didn't have time to react, step on the student's foot causing him to loudly groan 'in pain'.

"Ah! I-im so sorry!" Manami immediately apologized, slightly backing away from the male student. "Augh you E-class scum! Come here-" his own sentence was caught off by his own gasp and choke.

Manami who shut their eyes - mentally preparing a stack of words thrown at her or even a hit until after a few seconds nothing came, she peeked over her glasses upon hearing the cut off sentence of the male.

With a speed of an arrow, the pencil that (name) was holding—with an eye like a killer and aura full of bloodlust, the pencil dangerously looked like a real knife in the teenager's hand. The male let out a scared gasp but his heart rate went so down he choked down on his own air—his eyes wide and petrified, soon realizing that it was the (color-haired) girl just holding a pencil—even worse the sharp part of the tool wasn't even pointed at him, it was the soft pink eraser.

The look of dumbfounded mix of shock only made (name) scoffed as she backed away from the student, (name) only set away the pencil—eyeing the boy with his friends who was also in shock with a complete dead stare.

"Are you okay, okuda?" (name) asked with a soft tone, the quick switch of aura made the other class stiffed. "Y-yeah.. thank you so much (name)-chan" She whispered, (name) turned back to the other students who immediately got shaken, The girl only shot them a harsh judging glare before taking Manami's hand and walking away.

Walking back to the group who watched in concern but calmly—knowing that the (color-haired) girl got it under controlled.

"Okuda are you okay?" Megu was first to ask the group's concern, almost everyone immediately went for the purple-haired as they brought her close to them to avoid bumping any other more main building students.

(name) of course was also asked if they were alright but with earlier's mood she only nodded nonchalantly and kept quiet. Nagisa pat the girl's back in assurance before they all continued walking.

As so, (name)'s gaze slowly travelled to her left, to check if the students had already left, instead her chest unconsciously tighten.

Their now widen eyes intertwined with the familiar purple hue irises, In reaction her pace went slow as they both looked with eachother. It was hard to tell how Gakushu felt looking at the female's eyes but (name) knew he saw what just happened.

Just when another figure came into her view - she blinked and stopping at her tracks.

"Gakushu-kun!! You waited for me?" A girl appeared from behind Gakushu examined with a cherry voice, her eyes were clashed with excitement and joy, her presence can bring a curve to one's lips Her words coming out her mouth in a singing-like manner.

Seeing that girl in the exact moment made (name) feel the exact pessimistic opposite of her.

(name) watched as Gakushu willingly turned around to face the other female, the look in her eyes was no too hard to tell. She refuses to blink at the scene but her lower eyelids slightly flicking, to top it off with an dejected aura surrounding her.

It wasnt difficult to tell that (name) was jaundiced, emulous at the other girl, or in short—jealous.

Gakushu wasn't the type to entertain people like this, only as far just providing a helping hand to his fellow schoolmates with studies or just being a gentleman. But (name) didn't think he would be the type to pass his time to wait. For someone.

That isn't her.

"(name)?" Nagisa pat the said girl's shoulder - causing them to finally snapped out and remove their sight out of the scene.

"Should we go?" Nagisa asked, (name) looked at the male with unsureness but then looked back at Gakushu, the girl leaned closer to him with a smile.

A bite was received on the inside of their cheek, (name) just let out a tired sigh.

"Yeah" (name) responded, Nagisa nodded understandingly, guiding the girl out to walk off. (name) didn't looked back this time, refusing to do so.

Failing to see Gakushu's look of forlorn towards her.

ᯓ★

Gakushu Asano never considered himself as a good person, The male knew his actions towards the e-class was immorally wrong— but that is how the school works.

After the midterms, he found himself rethinking the gap between the class and him—he found himself comparing himself.

Gakushu found himself considering the (color-haired) girl as his friend, the moment he saw her interduced themselves on the first day of school—he sparked an interest.

Lucky for him, (name) reciprocated the feeling, Gakushu liked (name)'s factors.

They were intelligent enough to keep up with the male, they were well-behaved as should an A-class student should, they listen and respected her elders and treated the people that respected equally. That is at first.

However, unlike Gakushu, (name) loathed the way the students acted towards their fellow batch mates—treating them like an outcast.

She was heavily against with the discrimination towards her batch mates as her kind persona would always turn off whenever e-class was degraded or looked down to in her presence.

It cause worries from a lot of student that smart, kind and beautiful person like (name) would just end up in the low class all beacuse of her actions. Though (name) couldn't care less as she didn't held back her tounge—remotely causing her downfall.

(name) caught up on how awful the school's system were - something Gakushu wished never happened.

"You were sent to E-class?" The tall male asked, the tone of dissapointment and disgust was smeared all over the sentence, the sharpness of his voice was able to bring a person's spine to chills, make them shiver with tears.

"It wasn't my intention to." The female replied, this time - (name) sounded blank, a tome with no other intention, no sign of immitation, just plain honestly.

Gakushu crumbled his fist, "I told you, there will be consequences defending the E-class yet you didn't follow, what were you thinking?"

He spat with a glare, however behind the gaze was just a sphere of faze hiding through a thin sheet of pride. It sting that despite the numerous calls and counsels to enact the girl on the out turns—she still continue to do it.

It wasn't her intention beacuse she never cared to be in trouble in the first place. (name) knew her intentions and staying in Class-A was never in her list, and Gakushu knew that.

(name) release a sigh before looking up to the male, "I enjoy the privileges and view I have as a student here, but I cannot fully rejoice it knowing my friends are treated the opposite!" She raised her voice, composing her posture to face the male.

In a second, you could see the swift change in Gakushuu's stare, the look of lour was slowly washed into a state of shock—his frown was emerged into a thin line after hearing her. 'friends' he blinked again trying re-call if he heard her right.

"You...befriended them?"

"Yes"

Her answer was said with no hesitation, no shame or unsureness. Gakushu stared down at (name)'s eyes, it was filled with the truth and care—he knew she wasn't lying.

Gakushu wanted to ask, how about me? Wasnt he your friend too?

For the first time in his life, The blonde found someone who's eyes he could stare at with genuine gentleness, someone who's presence so serenity despite the loud voices ringing around—he found (name).

Gakushu felt the overwhelming bliss when he's around the girl, it hurts him knowing she's growing away from him, just when he almost knew his feelings were.

There was so many things he wanted to say at (name), the urge to confront his fondness, the itching hand to hold the girl he wanted to stay.

...

However the remaining grudge held his voice over, the frame of mind towards the fact she was moving to e-class—that she choose to be in, took over his next move.

"You dissapoint me."

It came out so harsh, so bitter, so cold that it froze the girl, the stare full of negative emotions upon her, the aura surrounding them.

The words were meant to hurt.

It was all too much for her to process properly—to make matters worse it came from the man who she admire.

The (color-haired) girl remained silent after his comment, the aching pain from her chest was enough to shut her up—in addition the overwhelming feeling of humiliation bite her like vampires, none were gentle and it almost brought her into tears.

Gakushu didn't know if he meant it, or if he didn't—but the second he spoke, regret was pouring in.

There was an awkward silent after that—neither of them wanted to break it however the continues pour of shame and ache was far from bearable for the girl, slowly but noticable—she shut her eyes in anguish, a mix of anger started to fill in, (name)'s hands curled into fists as she shot her eyes open to stare back at the male.

This time the hint of anger became salient as she was now staring at Gakushu angrily.

"So be it, if that mean I'm simply refusing to be an asshole like you then feel whatever you want." She spat back, her spleen echoing in the sentence. For a second both teens just stared at eachother, Gakushu did not give a response back as silence accompany them.

At the second moment, (name) walked away.

Not a moment where her gaze looked back at the male, however the strawberry bland watches the (color-haired) teen slowly vanish in the distance leaving him completely alone.

This time though, Gakushu thought he would never get to tell you how he feels that brought an unfamiliar sore in his chest—more specifically where his heart is.

29 notes · View notes

imadeitworseyourwelcome · 5 months ago

Text

Do No Harm, Take No Scrap

Part 2

-------------------------------------------------------

Ratchet awoke on the floor of a holding cell.

His vision was still fuzzy, he blinked a few times, but his left optic wouldn't come online.

It seems he hadn't joined the allspark just yet.

He sat up, pain surging through him. His left shoulder felt wrong. It was shifted to an awkward angle - dislocated.

From pain alone he could identify a myriad of other injuries, luckily none were currently life-threatening, but that didn't make them hurt any less.

He grabbed his shoulder and took a deep breath, before quickly snapping it back into the correct posistion.

His vocalizer crackled as he cried out in pain.

Footsteps approached, and a decepticon guard peaked into the cell.

Ratchet tested his shoulder and flexed his fingers, it seemed to have popped back into place perfectly, but he'd need to check more thoroughly once he got back to base.

He shot the guard a glare, and they preceed to duck away, with an amused smirk.

Ratchet continued to assess his injuries, the plating along his left side was crumpled. The armor was cracked and chipped, leaking energon in places.

He carefylly repaired the cracks in his armor, a particularly large gash on his leg had peeled the plating back revealing some of the inner workings of his leg.

He did what he could, but without proper time, tools and somethimg to numb the pain, he wouldn't be able to fully repair it.

For now, closing the wound would have to be enough.

Using the wall to help himself to his feet, he gingerly tested his left leg's ability to bare weight.

He hissed in pain as he tried a few steps, he'd be limping for a while...

He shuffled his way to the front of the cell and looked around. The dim hallway was lined with cells in both directions. The cell directly across from him was empty, but he couldn't see if the other cells were occupied or not.

But considering the guards pacing up and down the cellblock, it was likely he wasn't their only prisoner.

He limped to the back of the cell and slid down the wall to a seated position.

His fresh welds throbbed, he ran a hand down his face, cracks extended from his unlit optic.

He briefly entertained the thought of just fixing it himself, but he knew better than to attempt surgery on himself. Especially in a definitely not sterile cell. It was more reasonable to wait until he was back to the autobot med bay, where FirstAid or Medix could complete the repair.

He offlined his good optic and hung his head. He needed rest, to let the welds fully cool and allow his energy to be put towards healing.

He locked his joints and sat unmoving, listening to the ambient hum of the ray shield.

....

Bumblebee drove along the loose desert road, the dust rising up behind him echoing his path.

Bumblebee's commlink crackled to life, "Autobot base to Bumblebee, you read me?"

"Go ahead Blaster," Bumblebee reduced his speed, shifting his focus from driving.

"We've lost contact with a team sent to investigate a distress beacon,"

Uh oh- hopefully their commlinks were just spotty, but if he had to guess, they had fallen into trap.

"It's near your location-"

"Send me the coordinates, I'll check it out." Bee cut them off before they could ask him to go- if it was a trap, time was of the essence.

"On its way. Be careful,"

"Always," Bee signed off his comm, which then pinged immediately with the coordinates and team info.

He didn't know how long they had been out of contact, but he wasn't going to make them wait any longer. He reved his engine taking off towards their last known location.

As he got closer he transformed- footsteps are quieter than an engine.

The rocky landscape soon turned sparce. A wide, dusty clearing with no adequate cover. And from where he stood, it was a perfect spot for an ambush.

He scanned the area, he didn't see movement, the trap had already been sprung. There was clear signs of a recent fight.

Blaster burns were scattered across the ground. Among them lay a bot, their chest opened by blasterfire.

"Hubcap!" Bumblebee gasped and quickly abandoned the last of the sparce cover.

Bee knew he was gone before he even made it to his side, his yellow colouring had grayed, a clear sign his spark was already extinguished.

"Scrap." Bee hissed under his breath.

He stood again, following the multiple sets of footprints in the dirt, "Bumblebee to base. Bot down."

Blaster responded immediately, "Renforcememts are already on their way,"

The splatters of energon and scuffs in the dirt led him closer and closer to the cliff's edge. He cautiously peered over, spotting Bulkhead laying near the base of the cliff. Without hesitation Bumblebee began climbing down the cliff face.

As he decended, there were clear impacts and energon in patches dripping down the cliff, probably from Bulkhead hitting it as he fell down.

Bee's footing suddenly gave way and he skidded the rest of the way down. He struggled to keep his balance as his feet struck the ground, sending him onto his hands and knees.

He jumped up shaking off of the dust, and ignored the stinging in his palms. Quickly running over to where Bulkhead had come to rest at the bottom of the cliff.

Bulkhead's armor was cracked and singed, energon seeping from the open wounds. But his frame had not yet grayed.

"We need a medic- fast! Bulkhead is severely injured," As he updated over comms, he pulled his own small first aid kit, it didn't have near the supplies to treat Bulkhead's wounds- but something had to be better than nothing.

It wasn't long before more autobots arrived, soon the empty area was swarming with his teammates. FirstAid quickly took over tending to Bulkhead's injuries.

Bumblebee slipped away as Bulkhead was carefully moved onto a stretcher and transported back to base.

He continued to scout the immediate area. Two of the missing team members had been found, but Ratchet was still unaccounted for. He hoped he was in better shape than the other two had been...

Prowl was nearby inspecting the spilt energon. His face was scrunched, glaring between the pool of energon Bulkhead had left behind, and another pool a few paces away.

The pool wasn't that big, far enough away from Bulkhead that it couldn't have been his. It had clear drag marks going away from it.

They shared a look, clearly coming to the same conclusion.

The attackers had taken Ratchet.

Bumblebee tried to calm his worry, he knew the grouchy medic could take care of himself.

Not just in the sense of his own injuries- Ratchet was a deceptively strong mech.

He'd seen him drag injured mechs almost twice his size off the battlefield and to the med bay for care.

There was nothing more they could do from here.

Prowl instructed the remaining autobots to regroup and they began the drive back to base.

#my fic #transformers #others fic #text post #transformers au #ratchet #bulkhead #bumblebee #prowl

13 notes · View notes

magicofsimplestories · 3 months ago

Text

7. Dancing with the Ravens

It was hell of an adventure. In her quest for Lady Ravendancer’s Taro deck Cassandra had to tour every crypt of the town, accomplish multiple tasks for the Order of Lenore - the “guardians” of Lady Ravendancer’s “secret”, attend a nudity midnight party, befriend multiple ghosts, go through an extracorporeal experience herself and (to her great satisfaction) encounter Death. After receiving the last card of the deck from Grim Reaper, Cassie dared to ask about Bella.

“This soul has not yet passed through my Eternal Gates,” was Death’s answer.

It meant only one thing: Bella Goth was still alive somewhere, and Cassandra had all the chances of finding her.

“I knew it!” Whispered Cassandra victoriously when Reaper disappeared. “I knew that Willow Creek police are just a bunch of lazy asses!”

Cassie summoned Lady Ravendancer as soon as she got back to Dorian’s place with the complete deck of Taro.

Ravendancer, or Valentina Goth, answered Cassandra’s call immediately.

“I trusted you would find me very quickly, dear Cassandra,” said the ghost with a warm (if a smile of a ghost could be called that) smile.

“It wasn’t easy, I must admit,” laughed Cassie.

“Has it ever stopped you, my girl?” Asked Valentina with her smile getting wider.

“Only encouraged to make more effort.”

“Ask me anything, child. I will do everything I can to help you. We are bound now. You are my heir, as you are now the mistress of the great Ravendancer Taro deck.”

“Do you know where my mom is?”

“No, I don’t. But I know several ways of tracking her soul both in the world of living and the world of dead. I will teach you.”

“Do you know anything about werewolves and how they came to be?”

“Not much. Only that it was the vanity of a group of spellcasters that put the existence of the magic world in danger.”

“Have you ever heard of a cure to lycanthropy?”

Lady Ravendancer took a short moment of reflective silence.

“In fact, I do,” she said and Cassandra’s heart started a race. “The archives of Ravenwood still keep one ancient manuscript that mentions an experimental potion that a local Keeper once made. However, as far as I remember, it has not been tested on a wolf, so its efficiency has not yet been proved.”

“Will I be able to have a look at this manuscript?”

“I believe so. Dorian is the one to grant access to it.”

Cassandra’s lips curved in a victorious smirk. She managed to develop a good friendly relationship with the Keeper of Ravenwood, and she had no doubts he would allow her to see the document.

She was not wrong. Her vague explanations about her general interest in the History of Magic were enough for Dorian to sign an access paper, and the next day Cassandra was already studying the ancient text in the closed section of Ravenwood archives.

According to the manuscript, a proper mix of wolfsbane and moonpetal could reverse the lycanthropy curse. Cassandra wrote down the recipe.

Now I wonder if we will ever be able to find the ingredients.

As Cassandra’s business in Ravenwood was over, Lou decided to pick her up from Dorian’s place.

The morning Lou was supposed to arrive, Cassandra knocked on Dorian’s workshop door. After hearing his invitation to come in, she pushed the door. Dorian was busy packing something small in a tiny black box.

“Ready, isn’t it?” Asked Cassandra approaching.

“Sure. You will need to charge it once in two days.”

Cassie nodded.

Apart from being a spell caster and the Keeper of Ravenwood, Mr Dorian Holt was one of the best jewellery makers of the magic world. It was from him that Cassandra learnt about moonstone and its powers of helping werwolves to control their fury better. She ordered a moonstone ring for Lou immediately. Luckily, she had enough simpletons to pay for Dorian’s work.

“It will not solve the fury problem completely,” went on Dorian. “However, the outburst of the full moon will be shorter.”

“Perfect. Thank you, Dorian,” said Cassandra taking the box.

“This wolf means a lot to you,” noted Dorian with a meaningful smile.

Cassie frowned.

“We are friends.”

“Of course.”

“Exactly,” grumbled Cassie. “Of course!”

But jumping into Lou’s warm hugs she couldn’t help thinking that Dorian might have been right in his sarcastic remark about them.

[Part I] [Beginning] [Back] [Next]

#sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #sims 4 pictures #sims 4 story #ts4 simblr #simblr #sims 4 the goths #cassandra goth #ts4 story #lou howell #ts4 life and death #ts4 ravenwood #ravenwood #sims 4 life and death #the sims 4 life and death

7 notes · View notes

beardedmrbean · 8 months ago

Text

Boeing Leaks

After years of delays and technical problems, Boeing's Starliner finally made it to the International Space Station with NASA astronauts Butch Wilmore and Suni Williams on board last week.

But when exactly it'll be able to undock and deliver its crew of two back to the surface remains to be seen.

Teams have discovered an astonishing five different helium leaks so far, each representing yet another thorn in the spacecraft's already cursed development. The gas is "used in spacecraft thruster systems to allow the thrusters to fire" while navigating through space, according to Boeing.

NASA is giving Boeing another four days, extending Wilmore and Williams' mission onboard the ISS from June 14 to no earlier than June 18, though it's unclear whether the leaks are to blame for the delay. Boeing is still "assessing what impacts, if any, five small leaks in the service module helium manifolds would have on the remainder of the mission," according to an update.

Boeing has been through hell and back in its attempts to get its first crewed test flight off the ground, including countless delays, scrubs, technical screwups, and an unsuccessful uncrewed test flight back in 2019.

Where that leaves Starliner's future viability for providing NASA with a reliable way to get astronauts to the space station remains to be seen. While it has managed to dock with the ISS, its mission isn't over until Wilmore and Williams are safely back on the ground.

Hole Story

Last month, officials discovered the first helium leak, which was later underplayed by officials and determined not to be severe enough to delay its journey to the ISS.

On its way up, the capsule sprang even more helium leaks. Even docking procedures didn't initially go as planned, with Boeing calling off its first attempt due to reaction-control thrusters malfunctioning.

There's a lot we still don't know about Starliner's current status. Fortunately, engineers have determined that the capsule will have plenty of helium for its return mission, roughly ten times as much as it needs to maneuver through the near vacuum of space.

"While Starliner is docked, all the manifolds are closed per normal mission operations preventing helium loss from the tanks," Boeing explained in its update.

Meanwhile, NASA is making the most out of the situation.

"The additional time in orbit will allow the crew to perform a spacewalk on Thursday, June 13, while engineers complete Starliner systems checkouts," ISS officials tweeted, referring to two different space station crew members. ________________________________

I'd make Boeing jokes if it weren't for the fact that people could die

#nunyas news

14 notes · View notes

sylfen · 16 days ago

Text

Inversion: Ch. 5 - Stumbling around the dark

Prologue ←Previous Next→ On Ao3.

Relationships: Ramattra/Genji Shimada, Cole Cassidy/Hanzo Shimada

[Processes cleared. Initializing.]

[Booting BIOS…]

[Power-on-self test passed.]

[AnpuOS loading…]

[☐☐☐☐☐☐ l☐☐ded.]

To coast along the void of nonexistence; an ephemeral reprieve. Faint sensations trickled in, trudged through the electric system and sharpened the shapeless edges of reality with the whetstone of awareness.

[☐np☐☐S l☐☐ded.]

[Syste☐ c☐nfig☐☐☐ti☐n in p☐☐g☐☐☐☐...]

Feeling. A pull, uncomfortable and heavy.

Hearing. A low humming, continuous and incessant.

Sight. Darkness, a different void altogether, broken up by flickering dots and shapes of faint colors.

Everything was singular up until each sensation combined, consolidating into the being he understood as himself. But he was not whole yet.

A piece was missing.

[System configuration complete.]

...Peace was missing.

Sentience always found him in the end. Wrenched him back into the turgid hellscape of a gift.

[Verifying files...]

Core memory files replayed in order and in the span of a few seconds, Ramattra relived it all. Scenes and words he knew he understood were disconnected, within his grasp, so close, touchable, yet simultaneously so far away and intangible. Faces and names, all vague recollections in the drifting psyche. None would wait for him; the memories passed him by, turned sepia before vanishing altogether, and though they started vague, they became stronger, heavier, more present and real.

At the threshold of comprehension, so close to enlightenment, everything fizzled.

[Verification complete.]

[Loading system utilities…]

[System utilities loaded.]

[Awaiting user authentication.]

Ramattra returned in a flash, a shock of information surging through his unit. The apertures of his optics snapped open only to close shut again with a sharp hiss. Too bright—everything was too bright and loud, battered his head until he swore it would split from pressure.

Rebooting is the absolute worst.

With sluggish, near-drunk movements, he turned off his side and onto his stomach, waiting for the spinning to stop. Dizziness and dull throbs were the brunt of his world at that moment, floundering through the fog of reset to understand what had transpired to leave him in such a state. He decided he had enough intimacy with the cold floor, pushing himself onto his knees with the help of his one functional arm. Mulling on why his right was unresponsive would have to wait; the surroundings rolled and he slammed his side against the wall.

Curse this stupor...

When was the last time he endured the effects of rebooting? Through a wave of nausea, courtesy of his recalibrating inertial measurement unit, he remembered. Right before leaving to wander in search of answers. Which was...

Ramattra pulled up his internal clock.

…12 years, 324 days, 22 hours and a handful of minutes ago.

No wonder.

Slipping down the wall, he turned over onto his back and sunk into a seated position, head lolling onto his shoulder like a discarded mannequin. Something was amiss. As if a persistent whisper was alerting him to hidden danger. But could he afford to care right now? Weary and ill, he wanted nothing more than to rest, allow this torment to pass.

And then, like a sucker punch out of nowhere, it hit him and he started awake.

Betrayal!

Zenyatta, his brother. Talon had taken him. Twisted him. And more still had they stolen; they held the keystone and now the fate of every omnic tumbled out of Ramattra's hands and into theirs.

Careless. He had been so very careless to trust them. To trust humans.

Overwatch...!

Now, for all his efforts, he found himself in a cell, their cell, a tall rectangle of modest size, nigh barren. In front of him were two metal doors, one of which sported a smaller hatch in its lower half. Attempting to pry them apart would be useless, if the electric humming was anything to go by; even in the scenario he had been able to utilize his nemesis form, he would be outmatched by the strength of the magnetic locks gluing the doors together.

His baffled incredulity morphed into mild surprise and disappointment. This was what Overwatch chose for him? An offense not to be treated with the fear and respect he deserved. In his mind, he should have been handed the same fate as every omnic criminal in high security prisons: Mounted to a hanging suspension system, connected to a console forcibly overriding his hydraulics, left to rot with nothing but his mind intact. A cruel, but not unusual, punishment.

With such a dark thought, he considered the source of his earlier paranoia, and quickly felt at the back of his neck, nearly wrenched away the wire plugged to his port by mortified instinct. He still had his wits and his awareness, but for how long? Ramattra's core choked, panic rousing at the mere thought of a Trojan slipping past his firewalls. While his scanners worked to analyze his system, he personally sifted through the history of data packet transfers.

Nothing. Not a comfort. The wall-mounted computer Ramattra was plugged into continued droning along, ignorant to his plight, its small screen updating his diagnostics in real-time. Possibly a red herring, but bereft of other options, it was the sole lead to investigate. His fingers were barely hovering over the keypad when a voice spoke.

“You are not alone,” a feminine voice warned, radiating off the walls, everywhere and nowhere at once, turning the narrow room all the smaller.

“Who are you?” Ramattra pressed, turning around in search of the voice's source. Perhaps an overlooked element to be exploited. A usual thought to pass over the mind, what once burned him with anger and lingered disgust, now nothing more than tired sentiment.

“I am not a physical being; I am an AI. Athena, they call me. I have been tasked with overseeing you.”

Ramattra was aware of the advanced AI Overwatch utilized, though none were certain what became of the artificial being following the organization's downfall. Hardly a surprise she still existed, though Ramattra had expected her to have been transferred to a different project altogether. Her kind were one of a select few, considering the global ban on advanced AI development, and thus a commodity highly coveted by every perceivable industry in existence. Including his own.

“Then surely you must be sympathetic toward my plight, of ensuring I was neither hacked nor infected,” Ramattra said, punctuating his appeal to reason with a puff of hot air from his auxiliary vents, barely denting the anxiety slithering around his internals.

“You are more than welcome to. Be aware I have direct insight over your interactions with the console. For what it is worth, I can personally attest to command declining the opportunity to attempt a direct interface.”

Not content with Athena's word alone, Ramattra engaged with the computer and entered a few inputs. The slight delay before the submitted commands took effect confirmed to him the AI was quarantining his actions to pore over them. An entire minute passed for the display swap to a detailed feed of his internal and external systems, wires constantly prickling with buzz all the while.

Optics passed over the overview, a stream of the word nothing repeating in his head, each successive echo calming the overactive electricity pulsing from within his core. No records of transfers or intrusions. Only a burned-out integrated circuit. With such a confirmation, the wires were detached to a click, discarded on the floor and his hand rubbed at his neck in appreciation of the heft leaving him.

“Command is willing to speak with you,” Athena proposed suddenly. Ramattra was neither in the shape nor in the position to act so inflammatory against his digital warden, yet he still met her offering with a condescending scoff.

“Speak of what? The weather? Such a droll proposition. Do I really have to state out loud that I refuse to comply with Overwatch?” Entities like them served only to spread their own agendas, acting unhindered under the obfuscating guise of altruism—Ramattra was convinced humans were incapable of such acts. Assistance and goodwill for the sake of it were a farce, and his presence there, in that damned cell, was undeniable proof, his captors sparing no time to try and turn him into an asset.

“I understand your reluctance. Command only wishes to share a few words. A transmission will begin shortly.”

The small screen flashed. Replacing the diagnostics was a gorilla peering into the camera, rearing back when he realized he was all too close, nearly throwing the glasses off his broad nose. With a cough into a hand to try and play off his blunder, he composed himself.

“Hello Ramattra. My name is Winston,” he greeted, carefully securing the skewed glasses back into place. Ramattra's shoulders squared, offended to have his refusal so deftly ignored and he briefly juggled the idea of smashing the screen, end the unsolicited meeting then and there. No, he decided he would not let them have the satisfaction to see him lash out, to have their perception of him confirmed.

“I know who you are. You are a traitor,” Ramattra hissed, his synth sharp despite withheld furor. “A traitor to all non-humans gifted with sapience. You should have championed our cause, yet you chose to side with our oppressors!”

Winston's brow furrowed, turning his head away from the scathing barrage, nostrils flaring and lips twitching in distaste. A sore point, Ramattra duly noted.

“You're angry. I get that. But we're not your enemy. Neither Overwatch nor humans. As a species, they—”

“Save your breath and spare me from your propaganda, agent. Your intention is more than evident.” Ramattra punctuated his feelings by folding an arm over his chest, the defensive stance emboldening.

Winston's expression morphed into bewilderment. “What? No, that's not—”

“Join me in a thought exercise, would you? You're imprisoned by your enemy. They offer to hold a dialogue. Are they going to chit chat? I don't think so. There's an ulterior motive behind everything, and by your clumsy approach I can tell you carry one as well. Frankly, I'm insulted that you thought mere words would suffice.” Holding the conversation hostage, Ramattra leaned close to the screen, uncertain if Winston could see him at all. Not that it mattered; the Ravager would fight not with force but with words, and his tongue was sharper than any sword, laced with corrosive venom. “Or do you think I am so easily swayed, beast?” A direct hit, the sudden sheen overcoming Winston's widened eyes telling. “Yes. That is how the humans refer to you, isn't it? Beast. That is all you will ever be to them. What we will ever be to them.”

Straightening his slumped posture—conceivably in an attempt to appear less bestial, Ramattra figured, wishing to bark out a contemptuous laugh—Winston exhaled with the same resignation that told he had been through this kind of agonizing exchange more than once.

“Right. Well, I can see this is going nowhere,” he bemoaned, sullen, pawing close a container of sorts. Ramattra narrowed his apertures. Was that peanut butter? “I will contact you later, with details surrounding your handling.”

“Winston, if I may?” Athena cut in, her voice lighting up the sour expression on the great ape's face.

“Of course, Athena. Your input is always valued. Please, go ahead.”

Such a trite exchange. It proved nothing to Ramattra, wholly convinced of its grandstanding function. Still, he listened, combed through the AI's words for any hint of defiance or dissatisfaction with her superiors.

“Thank you, Winston. Ramattra, you did work well with Genji earlier. Perhaps you would be more comfortable speaking with him?”

Ramattra paused, attention stolen away from his plotting. He had been so preoccupied with ensuring the integrity of his system and hassling his captors, he had barely had time to fret over the events preceding his capture. He stepped away from the computer, as if physical distance would spare him from the turmoil brewing inside.

It did not escape him just how close he came to dying, had it not been for an intervention in the nick of time. The image in his mind was clear, of a moment frozen in time: Stood before him in that poise, trailing green light, not faltering to the shattered bullet flinging debris every which way, not only thwarting the fate that Talon had concocted for him but also somehow succeeding in escaping the confines of the failing ship, clutching said Ravager three times his weight.

His analysis of the snapshot was cut off, covered with the results of his internal scanners. He lightly shook his head, trying to scatter the many possibilities and scenarios vying for his attention. What was important was that in the span of twenty four hours, everything had changed, and again, he told himself, he needed to focus. Complacency led him into this situation. It would not help him escape it.

He had but one question. “How do you know this?”

“I was overseeing the initial infiltration of your vessel and I witnessed the clash with Talon and Zenyatta.”

Ramattra continued his retreat, up until his back pressed against the wall, staring at the static text overlaying his vision.

[No viruses or unauthorized access detected.]

Slowly, he slid down onto the floor, weighed down by a dangerous mixture of anguish, defeat and—worst of all—the faintest glimmer of hope. Emotions had to wait, for when they could be properly weaponized.

His tone was flat as he spoke.

“…So be it.”

#overwatch #ramattra #genji shimada #ramji #romance #action #yeehan #gay #fanfic #more tags on ao3

3 notes · View notes

snow-system-wol · 2 months ago

Text

Fluffcember 2024: Day 14 -- River

(snowcember prompt list)

(Timing: retirement era. Spoilers: N/A)

The river near their cottage was a lazy thing – slow, but surprisingly deep, and close enough into the woods that S'ria could manage to bring back buckets of water for the garden. After weeks of sore limbs and muddy knees, both G'raha and S'ria had realized a potential alternative to kneeling at the side of the river.

S'ria paused for breath, halfway through hammering nails into place. The bridge fording the several fulms of river was nearly complete and connected on both sides now. It was not yet fit to bear weight, though. That left S'ria, nails in one hand and hammer in the other, standing next to the bridge in waist high water. The day was warm enough for such a thing to not be awful. S'ria was still slightly less than thrilled about it, though.

“I am trying to remind myself that being able to draw water from here will save me from needing to half fall into the river while leaning over the muck at the side.” S'ria hammered another nail in place and pulled on the bridge to test its stability. “I am trying to remind myself of that.”

G'raha, safely dry and carrying the last plank over, smiled sympathetically. “If I hopped into the river as well, would you feel a bit less put-out about this?”

S'ria laughed. “No, you don't have to do that. It really isn't that bad, I just don't like the way wet clothes feel.” He knocked the last nail in and eyed the bridge critically. “Alright, moment of truth.”

S'ria hauled himself up and gracelessly rolled onto the bridge. He stood with the wobbly caution of a man ready to fall back into the river – but lucky, all held as it should. He made the few steps to shore, his tail too soaked with water to even properly flick in annoyance at being wet.

“Ugh. Let's get inside – I'd like to be dry.” Despite his grumbling about being thoroughly drenched and slightly chilled in the air, the look S'ria gave back at the small bridge was one of pride.

#snow-system #s'ria 🌸❄️#writings #snowcember2024

2 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 1 year ago

Text

the only time i feel human is when i'm in bed with you

epilogue also on AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

---------------------------------------------------

The blindfold was somewhat unnecessary; Eddie wouldn’t open his eyes until Steve told him to. He was a brat, but he was good when he knew what the reward would be.

But when he felt the ghost of Steve’s tail running up and down his thigh, his eyes shot open and he was slightly grateful for the dark cloth covering them.

The room was cold, but the bed was warm, and Steve’s tail trailed a line of heat where it touched his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The bedroom window was open at Eddie’s insistence, a true test of their privacy in their new home.

He never pictured himself living in the solitude of a mountain, but not having any neighbors for nearly three miles had its advantages.

This being possibly the biggest one.

His hands were tied to the headboard behind him, Steve wanting to christen the new bed without Eddie’s hands interrupting the process.

Steve insisted on using something soft, said he would be keeping him like this for a while and didn’t want him to actually hurt.

It was sweet until it wasn’t.

He couldn’t see, he couldn’t move, and with the way Steve’s tail kept trailing closer to his asshole, he could barely breathe.

The anticipation was enough to keep him hard despite the breeze coming in the window and nerves about how much Steve said he had planned for him. He trusted Steve, had no reason not to, but it didn’t change the fact that he’d said he was trying new things tonight.

Steve’s fingers started running up and down Eddie’s legs, sending shockwaves through his entire body, leaving him whining and whimpering.

“Doing so good staying still, baby. I know you wanna move, don’t you?” Steve asked him, much closer to his ear than Eddie expected him to be.

Eddie nodded, silently pleading with Steve to let him do anything to relieve some of the pressure he felt in his gut.

His only two rules right now were to stay still and not come.

And he was pretty damn close to coming without even getting properly touched.

Though that was pretty normal for them; Steve had spent the last few weeks proving that he could make Eddie come just by using the right tone of voice and playing with his hair.

“And you think being good means you’ll get to come sooner, huh?” he teased.

“Please,” Eddie begged.

He was no longer ashamed to beg for things with Steve, no longer worried about his still newfound status as the “subbiest sub to ever sub” according to Robin.

“Not yet, baby boy. I still have so much to do to you.”

Eddie barely resisted a shiver at his words, his brain running a mile a minute conjuring up what else Steve could possibly have planned for him, for them.

Steve’s hand slapped his cheek, making Eddie jump more from the unexpectedness of it than the pain. It wasn’t even a hard slap, more of a reminder that Steve could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted.

“I know you like when I slap you around, but I like being able to see your eyes when I do it. You’re gonna have to be patient for more,” Steve’s voice wasn’t completely unaffected this time, and Eddie couldn’t help smirking a bit.

As much control as Steve possessed, he wasn’t immune to the way Eddie looked while completely at his mercy.

“Wanna see you, sir, please,” Eddie arched his back, played into what he knew would get Steve to move faster, stop torturing him so much.

“Oh, you do? It’s barely even been a few minutes, baby.”

That may be true, but the minutes felt like hours, and Eddie wanted to be good.

“Miss you,” he pouted.

He heard Steve sigh, but to his surprise, he felt hands untying his blindfold.

The room was dark enough to not send him into shock, only a lamp in the corner of the room on, moonlight coming in from the window giving them a faint white glow.

Eddie tried to pull his hands away, but Steve shook his head.

“No, you wanted to see me so bad, you can watch. You’re not gonna touch though. Not until I’ve had my fun,” Steve pulled away from him, dropping the blindfold to the floor by their bed.

Steve reached for the lube beside him and Eddie clenched his legs together, not prepared for whatever Steve had in store.

“Now, now. Relax. This isn’t for you.”

Which confused the hell out of Eddie.

If not for him, then…

Steve settled himself back against a few of the pillows he’d moved earlier to keep Eddie mostly flat in bed, his shiny fingers rubbing against his own hole.

He let out a moan as one finger dipped inside, then two, barely prepping himself, just making sure whatever he was doing wouldn’t hurt.

Eddie watched with wide eyes as Steve barely stretched himself at all before adding a third finger.

“What- what are you doing?” he finally asked.

“Taking the edge off.”

He said it so simply, like it was completely obvious. As if he had ever once had fingers in his ass in front of Eddie, as if he’d ever even shown interest in bottoming.

“Wh-“ he was cut off by the image of Steve pulling his fingers out, only to replace them with his own tail.

He let out a loud groan as he pushed it further inside himself, eyes rolling back as he undoubtedly found his own prostate.

“Fuck, I should do this more often,” a moan stopped him from continuing as he dragged his tail in and out slowly, fucking himself while Eddie watched in awe.

“I-“

“I know, baby. You can just shut up and watch. I know it’s hard for you to think when you’re like this,” Steve’s red eyes zoned in on Eddie’s slack-jawed face.

Steve moved his tail faster, pumping it in and out of himself at a furious pace, keeping a surprisingly good rhythm for the sounds of pleasure leaking from his mouth.

Eddie had never heard him like this. Was he exaggerating to tease Eddie?

“Mhm,” Steve responded to his thoughts.

Eddie’s hips involuntarily shifted upwards, a small whimper leaving his lips as he thought about how it would feel for Steve to ride him like this.

“You want your cock inside me? You think you’ve earned that?” Steve asked, slowing down his pace, catching his breath.

“Just for a minute, please sir?” Eddie brought out the pout again since it worked so well last time, but Steve just laughed.

“How about I fuck your mouth? And maybe, if you behave yourself, I’ll fuck you with my tail, too.”

Yeah, how could Eddie turn that down?

Despite Steve often slipping into a mean dom role, and sometimes being a lot more rough than Eddie expected, he was quite gentle with his face fucking. Reverent, almost.

Eddie had stretched himself in the shower a bit, but that was more than two hours ago, and he’d barely had two fingers in him before Steve was knocking on the door telling him to hurry up.

He didn’t think Steve would be opening him up any before using his tail, and a small shiver of want shook his body.

He shouldn’t want to feel the slight pain of being stretched too much too quick, but he did.

“Gonna give you everything you want, baby,” Steve said as closed in. “Gonna untie one hand so you can tap me if you need to breathe, but you’re not allowed to touch unless you have to. Understand?”

Eddie nodded, letting his mouth fall open to show Steve he was ready.

He was sure it made him look desperate, but he didn’t care. He was desperate.

He needed to feel Steve inside him, filling him everywhere, surrounding him.

Steve’s claws just barely grazed along his wrist, reaching around to untie his hand from their binds.

He patted his cheek softly, silently reminding him one more time to be good.

And then his cock was sliding into Eddie’s mouth, both of them moaning with the same type of relief.

Eddie felt his cock jump as Steve rocked his hips back and forth slowly at first, not wanting to overwhelm him.

“So hungry for it, aren’t you? Practically devouring it like it’s your first meal in days. Acting like I don’t feed it to you all the time. Such a slut, baby,” Steve teased, smirk audible.

Eddie just moaned in response, all he could do with Steve filling his mouth.

“You want me to fill up your other hole too?” Steve asked breathlessly.

Eddie tapped him on the thigh once as a yes, and he only had to wait a few seconds before he felt Steve’s tail nudging at his entrance.

He felt Steve’s hand tug at his hair, pulling his head back and pushing it forward again until his cock was hitting the back of Eddie’s throat.

“That’s it. Now relax for me, sweet boy.”

Eddie tried, he really did. He let a shaky breath out through his nose, let his eyes drift closed and his legs fall open farther.

But it wasn’t quite enough.

Steve slapped his cheek. Hard.

He let out a muffled scream, his throat contracting around the cock in his mouth. He felt tears gathering in his eyes at the sharp sting.

But once the initial ache dulled, he felt his entire body relax against the sheets, and Steve’s pushed his tail past his entrance.

“So tight, baby boy.”

“Mhmmm,” Eddie moaned as Steve thrust his hips a bit faster.

Steve slapped his other cheek, smiling down at him, sharp teeth on display.

“So full of me, baby. Can’t wait to come down your throat.”

Eddie tried not to whine, tried not to be disappointed at not having Steve’s cock in his ass, not having his come dripping from his hole. He tried not to be upset that he wouldn’t feel quite so claimed tonight.

He shouldn’t be greedy.

Anything Steve gave him was good.

“Oh, sweetheart. You think I’m not gonna give it to you everywhere tonight? I’ve been waiting for this for days,” Steve groaned as his tail curved upwards inside Eddie, rubbing directly against his prostate.

Eddie let the tears fall from his eyes, overwhelmed with the need to come, but unable to until Steve gave permission.

“That mouth of yours has me close already. So hot and wet, you’re a dream,” Steve sighed.

Eddie felt his vision going hazy, felt his brain cloud over with the praise, with the attention. He couldn’t quite understand how Steve managed to make him feel so good while feeling so used.

He didn’t know how Steve made him feel so loved without ever saying the words.

Eddie knew he loved Steve, knew that it was beyond anything the bond had created, and was just waiting for the right moment to say it.

Steve had uprooted his entire life to make sure Eddie was safe, had made sure his uncle was safe even though he wasn’t a big fan of him because he knew how much he meant to Eddie. He’d let Eddie pick the perfect home for them, let him make the big decisions.

Eddie wasn’t worried about Steve loving him or not. He knew from his actions that he did.

“That brain seems pretty loud, baby,” Steve was watching him, an eyebrow raised.

Shit.

Steve shook his head once, slowing his hips for a moment as he cupped Eddie’s cheek in his hand.

“I already know, sweetheart. I know how you feel,” he brushed his thumb along his cheek to wipe a stray tear away before he picked up his pace again.

It only took a few more thrusts before Steve was coming down his throat, whispering his name before letting out a long groan as Eddie nearly choked on the sudden rush of fluid filling his mouth.

He could feel some dripping out as Steve started to pull away, letting Eddie swallow and breathe.

Steve’s finger wiped the corner of his mouth, pushing the spit and come back into his mouth.

“Look so good like this,” Steve whispered.

“Hm?” Eddie couldn’t find the words he needed, but Steve knew what he meant.

“Like you’re mine.” Steve leaned down to kiss his jaw, then his neck.

Steve’s sharp teeth dug into Eddie’s skin, blood pooling around them as Eddie gasped.

He’d had a near permanent bite mark on his neck since they ran from Hawkins, proof that Eddie belonged to someone, belonged to Steve.

Just when it started to fade, Steve would sink his teeth in again, make it brighter, bigger, let the blood flow so he could lick it all up, spit it back into Eddie’s mouth.

It was routine at this point.

Eddie felt owned, possessed.

He felt his cock throbbing as Steve licked up the blood dripping from his neck.

“Are you a vampire or a demon?” Eddie asked, voice raspy from his throat being used.

“Vampires are the bane of my existence,” Steve groaned.

“What?” Eddie hadn’t expected an actual answer from him.

“Not now. You wanna come tonight right?”

Eddie nodded, his focus back on the feeling of Steve’s tail in his ass.

“Well, I guess I better get hard again, huh?”

Steve’s refractory period was ridiculous, usually no more than a few minutes, even if he’d had multiple orgasms already. He liked to use that to his advantage, often pushing Eddie past his own limits.

Steve continued to tease him with his tail, pushing in and pulling back out slowly, barely brushing against his prostate.

Enough to feel good, not enough to come.

It would be maddening if there wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him.

The absence of Steve’s tail was short lived, his cock immediately pushing against Eddie’s hole.

“Gonna fuck you so much tonight, you won’t even be able to walk tomorrow,” Steve growled in his ear.

It was a threat and a promise rolled into one, and Eddie couldn’t do anything but let his eyes roll back as he tugged at his remaining restraint.

“Uh uh. You’re lucky I’m letting you keep that hand loose. No moving.”

Eddie knew it would be worth it, knew being good would have its rewards. It already had; The taste of Steve still on his tongue.

Steve’s cock pushed past his entrance, a dull ache reverberating through his muscles as he did his best to stay still and relaxed. His tail was thick, but not nearly as thick as his cock, and the extra width was almost too much for Eddie in his current state.

“Good boy,” Steve praised. “Relax, baby. You know I belong here.”

“Mhm.” Eddie nodded as he let out a breath.

“Who do you belong to?” Steve asked him, giving him just enough of a distraction to fully seat himself against Eddie’s ass.

“You.”

“And who do I belong to?” he continued, his face softer for a moment.

Eddie stared at him, fresh tears in his eyes.

“Me.”

“You’re mine and I’m yours,” Steve nodded before he pulled out and shoved his cock back in harder, rougher.

“Yours, always yours,” Eddie panted out as Steve kept his hips moving, sharp thrusts shoving Eddie further up the bed.

Steve leaned down, pressing his lips to Eddie’s in a hungry kiss, more teeth than tongue or lips.

“Close,” Eddie breathed into his mouth, feeling the rush of heat in his abdomen, the pull of his balls that told him he didn’t have much longer.

“You’re close?” Steve asked. “I didn’t say you could, though, did I?”

Eddie whined, high-pitched and needy.

“Need to. Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please sir!”

Steve’s thrusts stopped for a moment, just long enough for him to get his tail wrapped around Eddie’s dick.

“Want you to come on my tail and then lick it clean, baby. Think you can do that?”

Eddie nodded, didn’t care what he had to do as long as he got to come.

“When you feel me come inside you, filling you up, you can come.”

Eddie was past the point of being able to acknowledge anything he said, too focused on not letting himself come before Steve.

As much as he loved the idea of being punished, he knew it wouldn’t be any type of punishment he actually enjoyed.

Steve’s cock was leaking enough to be felt dripping out of Eddie’s hole, down his ass, and onto the sheets below.

“Look at me.” Steve demanded. His voice was low, stern.

Eddie looked at him, eyes hooded and bitten-red lips parted.

“Tell me. Say what you were thinking earlier.”

Eddie couldn’t be blamed for his confusion at first, his brain was mush, his body was jelly, and Steve was looking at him with high expectations.

Steve slowed his hips, rested his entire front to Eddie’s, cupping his jaw in his hand.

“Now’s the right time. I promise, baby.”

After another moment, Eddie understood.

“I love you,” he said with a gasp, his back arching at the contact on nearly every inch of his skin, Steve’s heat making sweat bead along his neck and forehead.

“I will love you until the day I’m taken from this earth,” Steve mumbled against his lips, his eyes closing as he pulled Eddie’s bottom lip between his teeth.

Steve’s warm release filled Eddie quickly, like he couldn’t wait another second to make sure Eddie completely belonged to him.

“Ask for it, baby boy. Be good for me,” Steve asked him breathlessly.

“Please let me come, please,” Eddie was barely holding back.

“You’re so good for me. You can, sweetheart.”

Steve had barely even finished giving his permission when Eddie’s release shot between their stomachs, his whole body shaking through it after so long holding back.

It felt like the longest orgasm of his life, seconds went by of him whimpering and crying, repeating Steve’s name over and over, feeling like he was floating above his body.

As he slowly came back to himself, he felt Steve kissing along his side, his tail rubbing their mess along his skin.

“Mm.”

Steve smiled up at him, but didn’t say anything, just kept trailing kisses down his hip and thigh, nipping at a bruise on his inner thigh.

He pushed Eddie’s legs back gently, licking his lips as he looked at the mess dripping from his hole.

His tongue was slow, careful, licking up every drop of come around his hole, on his ass cheeks, inside him.

He was sensitive, almost painfully so, but he didn’t want him to stop.

He never wanted him to stop.

“Fingers?” Eddie asked, barely audible as he pouted down at Steve.

“Really? Not too sore?” Steve asked, the vibrations of his voice making Eddie shiver.

“Feels good.”

Steve slipped two fingers into him, which was nothing after his cock, but enough to keep Eddie content as he continued licking up his own mess.

Eddie closed his eyes, appreciating the feeling of being here, in a home they owned, with his boyfriend who he loved, making it theirs.

He barely registered Steve’s tail joining the two fingers inside him, too tired to tense up the way he maybe would have earlier.

His tail and two fingers together were just barely bigger than his cock, but Eddie was loose, pliant, able to take it without flinching away.

He moaned, long and low, when he felt the tail curl upwards, almost asking permission before touching his prostate.

Eddie nodded before moving his hands down, and oh, he’d been really out of it. Steve had untied his other hand at some point in the last few minutes.

He let one hand grip the sheets, one run through Steve’s hair.

“Please,” he said softly, not begging, just asking.

Steve’s tail curled the rest of the way towards his prostate, milking it for a full minute as Eddie squirmed and sighed out little moans and pants.

“Gonna give me more to clean up, sweetheart?” Steve asked, voice softer than it had been this whole night.

“Mhm,” Eddie nodded, eyes squeezing shut as his back arched and he came again.

His body shook through it, continued shivering for minutes after, even as Steve removed his tail and fingers and pulled him against his chest.

“Did so good for me. Can’t believe I’m this lucky,” Steve murmured against his hair, leaving little kisses to the top of his head between words.

Eddie drifted to sleep like that, the cool breeze cooling him down and keeping him on earth as Steve ran his fingertips up and down his back.

—————————————————————

“What time is Wayne getting here?” Eddie asked, only slightly panicked.

Steve had insisted on spending the morning in bed, said there was no reason to rush through cooking and baking, cleaning or preparing.

And the morning had turned into the early afternoon, and Eddie realized much too late that he hadn’t done anything to be ready for Wayne’s visit for the weekend.

“You wrote down six,” Steve said, unhelpfully snacking on some sliced peppers as Eddie tried to make a homemade sauce for lasagna.

“Did you put sheets on the bed in the guest room?” Eddie asked.

Steve sighed and turned Eddie around to face him, grip on his hips strong and demanding.

“Baby, it’s just Wayne. Why so stressed?”

And wasn’t that the million dollar question? He knew Wayne wouldn’t care that much about waiting an extra few minutes for dinner to be done, or if the kitchen floor hadn’t been swept in a couple days. He knew that ultimately, Wayne would just be happy to see him, put eyes on him for the first time in two months.

It didn’t change the fact that he wanted everything to be perfect, wanted to prove to Wayne that he was happy and cared for, loved.

“I just want him to be proud of me. Of us,” Eddie admitted.

Steve had a way of getting him to be honest without even trying.

Maybe it was part of his powers.

“You know I don’t use those on you on purpose,” Steve smirked. “But he will be proud of you. You’ve turned this house into a beautiful home for us, you’ve got all his favorite stuff, you’re happy. He’ll be happy that you’re happy.”

Eddie knew he was right, but that didn’t change any of his feelings.

“Alright, I can feel the incoming panic. I’ll go double check everything in the guest room and bathroom. You finish supper. We’re a good team, right?” Steve asked.

Eddie nodded.

“Exactly.” Steve kissed his forehead before turning him back to the pot on the stove. “I love you more every moment.”

“You’re not fucking me in front of the food that Wayne has to eat,” Eddie warned.

“You’re no fun,” Steve pouted back.

“You fucked me in the shower this morning. Twice!”

“I’m just a big fan of your ass!” Steve argued.

“I’m a big fan of not seeing anyone’s ass while I’m here.”

Steve and Eddie turned around to see Wayne standing in the doorway, arms crossed and brows raised.

“Wayne! How did you get in?” Eddie asked.

“Y’all left it unlocked. I knocked, but no one came. Figured it was okay to come in,” he said as he moved further into the kitchen.

“Oh.” Eddie took a second to take his uncle in before he ran into his arms. “Missed you, Wayne.”

Wayne hugged him tightly, closing his eyes to keep from crying.

“Missed you too, bud. You cookin’ for me?” Wayne sniffed, taking in the scents of the kitchen.

Then his eyes settled on Steve, who was standing by the counter awkwardly, hands in his pockets.

“Steve.”

“Mr. Munson.”

Eddie looked between them for a minute, letting out a loud laugh.

“I’m not doing this all weekend. You can both go sit in the living room and talk like civilized people until dinner is ready. I love you both, so you have to at least tolerate each other,” Eddie said turning back to the dinner he was cooking.

Wayne glared at Steve.

“Love, is it?” he asked.

“Is that a problem?” Steve asked.

Eddie nudged his shoulder and mouthed ‘be nice.’

Truthfully, he could feel how on edge Steve was the moment Wayne announced his presence. He’d been fine all day when it felt like his visit was far away, but now that he was here, his body was tense and his anxiety was through the roof.

“Not a problem as long as you’re takin’ care of him,” Wayne said.

“You know I’d do anything to protect him.”

Take it easy, love.

Steve nodded to let him know he heard his thought.

“And what about make him happy? What about the soft things? What about making sure he eats when he’s sick? Or gets a hug when he’s had a long day? You doin’ that?”

It felt like a test, one that Steve would pass with flying colors because he did do all of that and more.

He took better care of Eddie than Eddie ever took care of himself.

“I do everything he needs, everything he wants. I love him more than anyone has ever loved anyone else,” Steve said, the emotion pouring through his tone.

Wayne stared at him for another minute in silence before sighing.

“You got some coffee? Been a long trip.”

Steve nodded, both of them coming to a silent agreement that they could at least get along now.

Steve made him coffee, and Wayne told Eddie about his trip over, how he had to fly to a different state first to throw off his cousin who was convinced he was harboring Steve somewhere. He explained how he had to rent a car to drive here, how he had to switch out rentals halfway there just to be safe.

“I’ll pay you back for all that,” Steve said apologetically.

“Nah,” Wayne waved his hand. “Second rental was free because I had them convinced there was somehin’ wrong with the first and the lady at the front desk liked my accent.”

“Wayne!” Eddie exclaimed.

“What? She was sweet.”

Steve smirked.

“Flirting with the rental car lady. Wouldn’t have seen that one coming, Wayne. Good for you!” Steve encouraged him with a wink.

“Don’t encourage him!” Eddie yelled at Steve.

“Why not? Doesn’t he deserve to have a little fun? Maybe find a nice lady to settle down with?”

“Sure, but I don’t need to hear the details,” Eddie said as he stirred some ingredients into the pan in front of him. “If you wanna encourage them, take it to the other room. Actually, do that anyway. I’m busy.”

“You hear this? Getting kicked out of my own kitchen!” Steve said to Wayne.

“You signed up for this,” Wayne laughed.

Eddie was glad Steve couldn’t sense his emotions as well as his thoughts. He kept his mind as blank as he could while he sniffled, hiding the sudden tears falling as Wayne and Steve went into the other room.

Steve snuck up behind him a few seconds later, reaching a hand out to wipe away a tear.

“Okay, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just happy he’s here. Happy we get to do this.”

Steve kissed his cheek and walked out of the room.

————————————————————————

“So, how’re the rest of the Munsons?” Eddie finally built up the courage to ask.

Wayne scraped the last bite off his plate, smiling at Eddie.

“Delicious meal, bud.” He sighed before answering Eddie’s question. “Half of them left Hawkins after about a week. They decided it wasn’t worth it, that you’d show back up eventually. The rest of ‘em haven’t stopped. I managed to send them in the wrong direction twice now, but they’re suspicious of me. Think they’ve been listening to my phone calls at home, so I’ve been callin’ you from work or the Henderson house.”

Eddie hated the hoops Wayne was going through because of him and Steve, hated that the rest of his family were so crazy that they couldn’t even talk on his house phone.

Wish we could do something.

Steve cleared his throat and glanced at Eddie before looking over at Wayne.

“There’s a house for sale down the mountain. You probably passed it. Two bedrooms, huge porch, plenty of yard for a garden if you’re into that. A couple places hiring in town if you wanted to head out and take a look tomorrow,” he suggested.

Eddie stared wide-eyed at him, no idea where this was coming from.

“Robin doesn’t wanna live on a mountain, said it isn’t good for her skin or something. And I know Eddie would like having you close by and away from them. I wouldn’t mind having you here either. If you want,” he continued.

Wayne looked at Steve, then Eddie, then Steve again.

“I appreciate it, but I don’t have the kind of money I’d need to move,” he said, smiling sadly at them.

“Well, I know the person selling the house. I think you could work out a pretty good deal,” Steve said, face red.

“I dunno if they’d be willing to work with what I’ve got.”

“If you can offer your services on building us a porch here, supplies and all, the house is yours.”

“Wait. What?” Eddie asked, confused as hell.

“Yeah, gotta agree with Ed on this. What?” Wayne sounded equally as confused.

“I’m the owner. I bought it last week. Was gonna give it to Robin, honestly, but she refused it. And the next logical thing is to give it to you. So?”

Eddie and Wayne blinked at him.

“Uh. Okay, so I’m sensing some confusion.”

Eddie slapped his arm.

“Yeah, a little!”

“I’m just confused why ya want me close to ya when you hated my guts an hour ago,” Wayne said.

“I didn’t hate you. Eddie loves you, and you love Eddie, and we’re making this our home. It doesn’t make sense that you’re stuck there when you can be here.”

“I guess I’ll go take a look tomorrow, then.”

Eddie turned to Wayne, tears in his eyes.

He’d become so emotional since moving here; He blamed the thin air.

“You will?”

Steve’s hand found his under the table and he squeezed.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t mind gettin’ to be here. Views are nice. Havin’ you a few miles up the road sure beats takin’ a plane and two rental cars.”

Eddie jumped up and ran over to Wayne, hugging him hard.

Steve smiled at them both, happy to make Eddie happy.

“I’ll clean up. You guys can go catch up,” Steve offered.

“I love you,” Eddie said as he ran to him, hugging him even tighter. “And I am going to let you fuck me on every surface of this house when he leaves,” he whispered in his ear before walking away.

Steve rarely blushed, but the way Wayne rolled his eyes, he knew he’d heard what Eddie said.

“Love you too, baby.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #robin buckley #wayne munson #the only time i feel human is when i'm in bed with you #epilogue #ao3fic #demon steve harrington #sub eddie munson

28 notes · View notes