#its off a skill and i thought adding it on her arm is ironically funny

[rando-lesbo210]

Sorry to have died again, this post isn't actually gaigel for once (but still gaige lol)

Anyways I've been mulling over designs and ideas for tattoos for gaige and been seeing the sick machine like ones so I've complied a bunch and a lot of the designs with her skill trees actually!

As well as designs for different arms, and comparison of bl3 GLAT design vs my fallen heirs/general idea! Note, the other three are much older than the colored one and so with the tattoos on the second image are mildly not there but the lettering is. Because that's a literal line she says and- yes in context it's pretty cool, but it's so funny the bitch that's most on the internet and using omega and alpha

have to say I tried to draw the skull for the misfits and I fucked it up all three times. Traditional art kills me some days

Molotov is also my really short and quick way to say smash the system.

Anyways these all may change over time, maybe not, mainly ideas, I like be silly and I will probably regret all these details later, hope the ideas are neat to some at least!

[finelinevogue]

for tour content, maybe you could do an imagine that’s like a series of small moments like little interactions on stage or picking tour outfits or nights in the tour bus/airplane ! just little domestic things <3

i’m going to do this because i have so many weird ideas and just no way of putting them all together ! ;

Grilled Cheese Conversations

The tour bus smelt like it was on fire.

You had been sitting in the living room with Harry for a couple of hours, both of you just skimming through photos from the Met Gala together - judging obviously, before Harry announced he wanted to make himself some food and so left for the kitchen.

He’d been in there for 45 minutes now and the smells that were diffusing from their smelt bloody awful. Harry could cook really extravagant foods, like caviar and lobster, but when it came to something as simple as making a sandwich he was absolutely terrible for some reason. The point was proven when he walked back into the room with a burnt coal looking sandwich.

“What, is that?” You laughed, still sitting with your phone in your hand and waiting for him to come back so you could continue judging these Met outfits together.

“It’s a grilled cheese sandwich?” He spoke as if you were dumb and you should have known that instantly. He walked over to you, sitting down next to you and resting the plate on the table in front of him.

“No, that’s a piece of char.” You raised your eyebrows disapprovingly and watched as he scowled at you for being mean to his culinary skills.

“Well i’m sure it’ll taste great.” He looked smug, up until he took a bite from the cheesy melted - burnt - bread. As soon as the food touched his tongue he was quick to spit it back out again, you groaning in disgust. He pushed the plate away and looked at it in anger. “45 bloody minutes and it tastes of burnt wood.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you know that.” You raised your hands and laughed, watching as he turned to scowl at you again. He had quite the angry face when he wanted to. “Sorry, alright! Do you want me to go make you one?” You asked, sitting up to go and make him one if he wanted.

Harry pulled you into his lap so you were sat with your back to his front, his arms looping around your waist tightly to keep you with him. His chin rested on your shoulder and he kissed your cheek because he could. “No. Stay w’me.” He got all cuddly and soft and you loved it when Harry was like this. He was like a life-size version of your stuffed teddy bear you used to sleep with at night - all cute and cuddly.

“Okay, okay.” You calmed him when he thought you were just going to get up and go. “Let’s judge some people again.” You pulled out your phone and opened it to a twitter account which had posted all of them.

“Where did we get up to?” Harry asked, fiddling with the skin on your stomach as his hands snaked beneath your hoodie.

“Um, Kim K.” You clicked on the image of her and tried to hold back the laugh. It was a dreadful outfit and highly meme worthy, so you’ve heard.

“Well…” Harry sighed, reaching his own hand to swipe seeing as he didn’t have anything more to say on this particular one.

“Billie looked beautiful.” You smiled as Billie’s huge dress came on display, looking a fluffy pink marshmallow dream. She looked very Monroe with her makeup and you were always so shocked when people told you her age, because she looked so mature.

“She must’ve taken inspiration from Marilyn Monroe.” Harry added, nodding in approval of Billie’s outfit.

“More so than bloody Addison Rae.” You laughed, thinking about how far that had been from the truth.

“Addison who?” Harry asked and it made you smile and turn your head around to look at him. He looked down at you, noticing the cheeky glint in your eyes and couldn’t help but steal a glance at your beautiful lips.

“This is why I love you.” You sighed happily and gave him a kiss on the lips, cupping his cheek to direct him better. You were only going for a peck, but Harry made it that you got the full taste of him and kissed you for a minute longer. He felt perfect against you and you really did just simply love him.

“Yeah,” Harry broke from the kiss for a brief moment to tell you something important, “and I love you.”

••••

All Things Sparkles

It was an hour before the Dallas show and Harry was getting ready for another big show.

Dallas were known for being crazy and you were so excited for the energy they’d bring for Harry tonight. Harry always enjoyed the shows more when the crowd was actually ecstatic to be there and he knew Dallas wouldn’t let him down.

He was putting on his silk trousers, Lambert just to the side as he was ironing the shirt to get rid of all its crinkles. Your Harry currently looked so funny in his Gucci silk trousers, his bright yellow socks with bananas all over them, his suspenders hanging down by his sides and no shirt on as of yet. It was the socks that really pieced everything together. He had just had his hair and makeup done, just needing to get dressed before he was completely ready.

He was really glowing tonight. It made you happy to see him like this.

You were watching him through the vanity mirror as you touched up your own makeup, adding highlighter to the areas you wanted to shine a little brighter. You also started adding some gems around your eyes, wanting to be a bit different tonight along with your glittery eye shadow that you didn’t normally do. You were glueing your gems when you felt your boyfriends presence behind you, the heat of his bare chest radiating against the skin of your back.

“You look stunning, m’love.” You looked up through the vanity to catch his gaze, he smiled and you smiled back.

“Thank you. Not too bad looking y’self.” You cheekily replied, motioning towards his bare chest. “Are y’going to be keeping that out all night?” You asked, being hopeful that he would, because fuck it was hot, but also wouldn’t, because you wanted this part of him all to yourself.

“You’d like that wouldn’t y’yeah.” He squinted his eyes at you and nodded, a clear sign that no his tits were not going to be out for Dallas. “Up.” He spoke, lifting you up from under your armpits and walking around the chair so that he could sit down himself. He plonked you right back on top of his lap and watched as you leant forwards to add another gem to the corner of your eye.

“Y’putting me off.” You whined, your ass leaning right back onto the hard of his cock. He couldn’t keep soft around you, that was his kryptonite.

“Oh i’m sorry. It’s not like m’girlfriend is just sitting there looking ridiculously beautiful and yet so innocent.” He leaned forwards to whisper the rest of his words, because they were only for you. “Just look so fuckable right now.”

You had to bite your tongue from turning around and shoving it down his throat, because god did his words make you want to jump his bones. “Shut up, before y’get us both in trouble.” You wiggled your ass back over his cock as you sat back to admire the work of the gems brightening up around your eyes.

“Then stop being a fuckin’ tease.” He grabbed your hips and stopped your from moving anymore. You just smiled and put the lid back on the glue before it went everywhere, especially over Harry’s expensive clothing - even the banana socks were £17.

You looked at him through the mirror to find him already looking at you. You blushed quietly as you watched him take in your beauty. It was quite hard to get over just how ethereal he looked tonight and it made you so feral knowing he was all yours and only yours. Looking down at the gems you got an idea.

“Do y’want me to put some gems on y’too?” You asked, pointing to the ones around your eyes and thinking that he’d looked even prettier with some around his.

“Only if i’m matching w’you yeah.” Harry nodded excitedly. You got up from the chair and swizzled yourself around until you were sat back on his lap, only this time straddling him. You were so close to him now that it was getting ridiculously harder to stop yourself from taking him here and now. You leant down, instead, and gave him a lasting kiss on the skin covering his heart. Your lips lingered there for a moment, before you moved back up to see him already staring down. He smiled when he saw the stain of your lipstick printed over where his heart beat. “I proper love you, Y/N.” He smiled and cupped your chin in his fingers to bring your lips to him.

“No!” Lambert shouted, making you two pause. “You two’ll never stop if you start, so don’t start until after the bloody show.” He rolled his eyes and continued with his ironing, making you and Harry chuckle feeling like high-school kids.

“Okay, now stay still.” You spoke as you glued the first gem and held it steady against the corner of his eye. He wanted to keep his eyes open to keep looking at you, because that’s all he ever wanted to do, but you instructed him to close them just to be on the safer side. It went on easy, sticking to the outer corner of his eye, in a soft white colour that matched his trousers. Yours were the same creamy white colour to match the colour of your dress.

“Do I look pretty yet?” Harry asked rhetorically, but you replied anyways.

“Y’look pretty always.” You kissed the top of his nose whilst you glued the other gem. He closed his eyes as you told him to, but he still smiled at your words. You concentrated as you stuck the gem to the corner of the other eye and sat back to make sure they were even. Harry opened his eyes to see you making sure they looked good. “S’perfect.”

“Like you then.” He hummed in appreciation of you.

“Let’s see then.” Lambert asked, making you both turn in the chair to face him and you readjusting yourself so you were sat back against his chest. “Oh yes! Okay this is photo worthy.” Lambert took out his phone and held it up to face you both, making sure you could see the gems.

“I don’t even have a shirt on!” Harry exclaimed, but held you close anyways as you smiled for the photos and his words making you belly laugh. You posed more seriously for a few and then took a few silly ones to. Your favourite one, though, was one where you were laughing so happily and Harry was looking at you and smiling in awe over you.

He set it as his lock screen. You set it as yours. It would stay that way until your new favourite photos became your wedding day photos.

••••

Sign Of The Times

Tonight was the first Love on Tour show you were attending, only having missed opening night in Las Vegas.

Harry knew that you were coming, but you’d told him to source you out within the crowds because you wanted a full fan experience. You’d gotten the all-clear from Harry’s security, allowing your from backstage and straight through into the cherry pit. You had your lanyard and your sign ready, as fans started to pile in. You were originally going to go straight to the barricade, but you thought the fans deserved that more than you so you hung back and stayed the ends of the crowds.

A few fans spotted you and came up to asking for photos, so you did. Posing with your mask on was weird because you still smiled underneath the mask even though it wouldn’t be seen in the photo. Some fans asked whether they could stay and dance with you ask night to which you were so happy for, because dancing alone would’ve been embarrassing even for you.

The intro for golden started and the crowds were deafening, but all you could think about was your boyfriend and his challenge to spot you within the crowds. Golden and Carolina came and went, you dancing like a crazed fan along with all your new friends. Everyone was so happy and some were even crying tears of joy.

There was just love, love, love, everywhere.

Harry came to his first pause and took a quick drink since he was already quite hot and the altitude in Denver was crazy.

“Good evening Denver!” He shouted into the mic, waiting for the screams of his fans to uproar and then settle before speaking on, “The altitude is crazy here. I’ve barely done anything and I can’t breathe!” He spoke, making you slightly anxious for him but you knew he would be okay because he had an oxygen tank on stage. “Now, m’girlfriend is somewhere here tonight and i’ve gotta find Y/N before I lose the challenge.”

The fans around you started screaming that you were here and the message kept on getting passed down the crowds until they reached the front. Harry was walking around your side of the stage until he met the fans at the front saying that you were behind them. Harry held his hand over his eyes to help him find you better and you held up your sign to help him. Your sign had taken you all of 5 minutes to doodle, but the message was clear;

“I want a kiss from the one in suspenders.”

“There y’are.” He laughed when he saw your sign, dropping his mic and leaning over himself to catch his breathe from the belly laugh that he just let out. You smiled when you saw him laugh, the fans around you screaming and thanking you for making him be this way. Harry stood up and looked at you, messing with his earpiece so he could hear the arena better.

“Kiss me!” You shouted and the people around you were also shouting for him to kiss you. Even with masks on Harry could clearly understand the message.

“I wanna kiss you but I can’t!” He spoke through his mic and his voice echoed throughout the arena, making everyone scream and you simply blush. You knew he couldn’t come and just give you a kiss, it would be too dangerous, but he sent you loads of blown kisses instead and you kept them all. You sent your own back and he stuffed them all in his back pocket, before moving on to his next song before he got told off.

“Damn, he really loved you.” One of your new fans friends says next to you and all you could think was; yeah, yeah he does.

••••

My Only Angel*

For four hours he had been gone.

Four hours since he was in this hotel room with you. Four hours since you had first started acting like a brat. Four hours since he’d gotten fed up of our attitude and tied you up and left a vibrator pulsing against your clit. Four hours since your first orgasm, four minutes since your last.

The whole time Harry had been on stage, all he could think about was you being bound tight in his hotel room and dripping wet from the number of orgasms you would’ve had. He knew you’d never be able to hold yourself for four hours, so he didn’t say you couldn’t cum only he forgot to mention that the number of times that you did cum would be the number of times he denied you later on in the evening. Harry had gotten especially hard performing Only Angel, because that was your song that he’d written for you and then fucked you countless times to. Fans noticed, but put it down to the adrenaline of being onstage rather than the thought of his girlfriend being tied up and overstimulated back in his hotel room.

You just came down from the high of another orgasm when Harry walked through the door. You sighed when you saw him, thinking this would finally be it and he’d let you go free now you’ve suffered your punishment. That was wishful thinking, however.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” Harry pretended, wanting to tease you as much as possible, as he walked past you and hung his jacket on the back of a chair.

“H-harry.” You sighed, squeezing your eyes when you moved and felt the vibrator hit and new and exciting angle. You moaned quietly and had to suppress the embarrassing cries you wanted to let out.

“Yes?” Harry moved so he was standing at the edge of the bed, undoing the buttons on his shirt one-by-one. He looked so hot with his sleeves rolled and the suspenders already dropped down to his sides.

“I-I please s-st- enough.” You whimpered, pulling on the restraints to try and stop it yourself but you’d already tried that one too many times and nothing has come of it.

Your wrists were slightly red and bruised from all the tugging you’d been doing and Harry noticed that as he peeled away his shirt from his body. He threw the silk shirt somewhere else in the room and walked over to the right side of the bed, sitting down to get a closer look at your wrists. He leant down to give it a gentle rub and a kiss. You sighed in delight at the feeling of his cool lips burn against your flaming skin. Harry sat up and tilted your face to the side so you could face him, slight tears in your eyes. He looked at you for a few moments, taking in the shear beauty of you and your glorious body, before making sure you were alright.

“What’s your colour, baby?” He asked you gently, stroking your cheek and then running his thumb along your bottom lip with a soft pull.

“G-green.” You nodded and he smiled, leaning in to kiss you on your desperate lips. You basked in the taste of him, closing your eyes like you needed to save this moment to memory forever. You loved him like this, when he was dominant with you. He let you be submissive like you wanted to be.

“That’s my good girl.” He leaned back from you and moved onto the bed more, straddling your bare body. The silk of his pants felt erotic against your hot skin and you moaned at the dreamy sensation. He ran his large, ringed, hands up and down your body, feeling every curve and crevice. He massaged your boobs lightly in his hands, up and down your stomach and to your inner thighs behind him. You hummed at the feeling, gasping when Harry finally turned off the vibrator and moved it away from you. You felt lighter from freedom all of a sudden.

“T-hank you.” You breathed out, opening your eyes to meet his electric green ones. Wow, he looked beautiful - still slightly sweaty and hot from his concert.

“Don’t thank me yet, angel.” He grinned as he took down his trousers and pants, pushing them to the floor with his foot.

He didn’t even wait for you to register what was going on before he slipped himself inside of you. You loved the feeling so greatly, but your clit was still so sensitive. You shuddered as he picked up his pace and thrusted into you harder and harder, faster and faster. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, made you arch your back and your toes curl and then feeling if him so deep inside of you was enough to make you cum already, again.

“Feel s-so good.” You looked at him and saw the desire within his eyes. He was so full of lust right now, because the sight of you tied up with him pounding into you is better than simply imagining it. Nothing could feel more euphoric than this, both of you were sure of that.

“Yeah? Feel me all around you? So perfect f’me. M’beautiful angel.” Harry moaned out, cupping one of his hands around your throat and pushing you deeper into the mattress, whilst his other hand went to cup your breasts and give them the devotion they deserved.

Everything felt everywhere.

His rocks became sloppier as he reached his high, yours approaching much sooner than you thought it would. You were surprised you actually had anything left in you. His cock hit a spot inside of you that made you scream out and he felt you collapse around him all at once, causing his own release to quickly follow. He continued to fuck you through your release and bent himself over to press his lips to yours. He felt and tasted amazing, you couldn’t get enough. It would never be enough.

“Love you so much.” You spoke the best you could and Harry released his hand from your throat, leaning down to kiss it softly. He reached over to your hands to untie them afterwards, giving them both a few kisses over your wrists when he saw the harsh marks. Your arms were so tired that they just fell to your sides, but Harry kept on touching you softly; stroking your messy hair away from your face and caressing your cheek softly as if he hadn’t just fucked you raw. He kept his face close to you as he whispered the words that would stay imprinted on your heart forever.

“I love you, Y/N.”

[irrelevantwriter]

House Call

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, reader being scared and horny, Rio’s BDE (y'all know what's up)

Word Count: 4.2K

Summary: Part 1. Rio shows up unannounced to talk business. Among other things. 

A/N: It’s here...it’s happening. It took me a whole 2.5 seconds to become obsessed with Rio once I started watching GG. Ya’ll know how I roll. Anyway, this is me just dipping my toe into the water. I didn't get too deep with a plot (spoiler alert: there isn't any). It’s essentially just reader-insert into the show’s current plot, but with some smut thrown in. For fun. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Added a Part 2! Read it here.

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

“You okay?”

The sound of your friend’s concerned voice filled the line, pulling you back to the moment and the conversation you’d been engaged in before you’d burnt yourself in the spray of hot water.

“Yeah, just washing dishes.” You explained, cradling your cell between your shoulder and cheek as you maneuvered dirty dishes under the spout of water.

“So the meeting with the principal? How’d it go?” Rachel asked, getting you back on track.

You sighed, beginning to scrub at a stubborn coffee stain left behind on one of your favorite mugs.

“Fine. The kids are still having a hard time with the divorce so it’s…” You paused, unsure of how to describe the child-like brooding your son and daughter had taken to participating in since you’d separated from their father.

“Tense? Difficult? Weird?” Rachel listed off helpfully.

“All of the above.” You deadpanned, still scrubbing.

“You take the rest of the day off?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta figure out what I’m going to do with these kids. Paul said he’d come over later to talk it over.”

“How incredibly thoughtful of him.” Rachel replied, sarcasm and disdain dripping from her words.

“Well, it’s a start. And as much as I’d like to tell him to fuck off, I can’t. He’s still their dad.” You explained for the hundredth time, feeling the stress of your situation with your ex starting to creep into your body. Your shoulders felt stiff and your head began to throb with a dull ache. It was a familiar reaction these days. One you loathed.

You opened your mouth to steer the conversation elsewhere when the doorbell rang, chiming throughout the empty expanse of your home.

“Paul?” Rachel asked, obviously hearing the alert of someone’s company over the phone.

“I guess. Look, I’ll call you later.” You said with another sigh, this one more tired than annoyed. You gave up on the stained mug and moved onto drying it, shutting the water off as you did.

“Okay. Good luck.”

“Thanks.” You ended the call, aware that you were short with her, but unable to feel sorry for it. You had plenty of other things to worry about, none of which involved your shitty ex or his new girlfriend.

You placed your cell on the counter and turned to make your way to the entryway, mug still clutched in your hand. The ceramic cup dropped to the floor and shattered into pieces when you saw who was already in your kitchen. You gasped, clutching your chest and yelping at the familiar man in black, the dark ink splattered across his throat the first thing you noticed. Your heart leapt, your body going rigid at the unexpected visit. Pop-ups like this were never a good sign.

“I let myself in.” Rio supplied, voice low and thick with authority and charm. He wore a smirk, lips upturned at your surprised reaction. He always seemed amused by you. That fact only served to unsettle you further.

“What’re you doing here?” You managed to say between shaky breaths, fear making your own voice quiver.

“Just checking in, mama. Can’t I do that?” He challenged with his arms spread wide, daring you to say otherwise.

You didn’t.

You went to move around the large kitchen island but the shards of broken mug prevented you from getting far on bare feet. Rio took notice and strode towards you, all clean lines and hooded eyes. He had a swagger about him that radiated. It sent a clear message about the kind of man he was. Confident. Skilled. Smart. There was an ease in his movements, but a beast lay in wait inside, ready to strike when the need arose.

His piercing gaze took in your dress, uncaring of being discreet or polite. He appraised you from the tips of your painted toes to the top of your head. It was as unnerving as it was thrilling. He crowded your space. He always did. While the scent of him filled your nostrils. Something spicy, but pleasing. It sat in your nose, and you knew from previous experience that you’d smell it for hours after.

You swallowed, wanting to avoid his close proximity. You hastily bent down to gather what you could of the jagged pieces, moving around his sneaker-clad feet that stood before you. You tried to ignore his presence, tried to appear calm and composed. It was an uphill battle. The man always knew how to throw you off. He knew how to keep people on their toes. It was yet another facet of him that you both coveted and despised.

You hissed, feeling the edge of one of the shards dig into the tip of your finger. You stood and sucked the tip into your mouth, trying to clear the area of the blood that had started to surface. His eyes were on you, watching you with interest and a certain level of lust that you didn’t allow yourself to explore. You stiffened when he reached for your wrist and pulled your finger away from your lips. He inspected the cut, his flesh warm and soft against yours. It was a side of him that eclipsed the man you’d come to know over the last several months.

“It’s not bad. I’ll be fine.” You whispered, attempting to pull your hand free of his. It was futile.

“Band aid?”

“Uh...yeah. In that drawer. Next to the stove.” You pointed in the direction of the drawer, holding your breath as he retrieved the item. This time, you watched him. Watched as he unwrapped the bandage and tended to your finger with all the care of a parent with their child. He held the appendage steady as he got ready to wrap it, but he stopped himself. He locked eyes with you instead, making you shiver.

“I make you nervous.”

It was a statement. A very true statement. And yet you found yourself shaking your head; ironic because your voice felt too unsteady to use.

Your heart stopped when he placed a tender kiss to the cut. The air around you crackled with heat and tension. It was unlike any feeling you’d ever been subjected to before. It was danger mixed with primal fascination...attraction. And it called to you like a raft in a sea of treacherous waves.

He ignored your silent response and sealed the band aid over your finger, ensuring the ends were smooth against your skin. He didn’t let go of you.

“Don’t lie to me, okay? Trust is an important thing. And we’ve gotta have it if we wanna keep doing business together.”

His calm demeanor and gentle chastising made you a puddle of obedience. Your need to please wasn’t just born from fear. It was something you’d been unable to come to terms with until now. You saw it for what it truly was. You wanted to please him. In as many ways as he’d let you.

You nodded in response, agreeing to his statement.

“Let’s try it again then, yeah?” He started, eyes roaming your face. “I make you nervous, don’t I?”

“The constant threat of my life makes it difficult for me to be calm.” You said, choosing to still be untruthful. 

You forced yourself not to fidget as his stare scorched your skin. His black eyes roamed across the open expanse of your collarbone and to the modest neckline of your wrap dress. He licked his lips as he focused on the measured breaths of your chest, your breasts rising with each pass.

“That’s not the only reason.” He retorted with a shake of his head. He leaned in close, noses almost touching as he spoke. “Don’t move.”

You said nothing as he bent down, continuing your failed task of picking up the broken bits of ceramic. You observed him dutifully gathering each piece, piling them into one large hand. His face looked pensive, as if he was trying to solve an equation in his head. You leaned against the island for support and bit your lip, unwilling to give into the lecherous thoughts that haunted you at night and managed to infiltrate your dreams.

“Nice dress.”

His compliment made you pause, looking down to meet that familiar smirk. He’d set what was left of the mug onto the counter, the floor relatively clear of large fragments. His fingers now played with the hem of said dress, the flowy material dancing in the air and away from your body.

“Thanks.”

Your voice was small. The apprehension so clear that you could both taste it. He found it funny. You found it humiliating.

He slowly straightened, taking the fabric with him as he gathered it to just above your knees.

“Color looks good on you.”

Again, the juvenile warmth of his praise sent you reeling further into anxiety’s waiting arms. Inwardly, you were responding to every lick of his lips and quirk of his eyebrow. Your thighs shifted restlessly against each other, waiting for that satiation that you hadn’t felt in forever. Outwardly though, you remained as skittish as a wild horse. You were as much on the edge of pleasure as you were on retreating.

“Thanks.” You said with a pleasant smile, wanting to conceal the yearning that bubbled just under the surface. You smoothed out the hunter-green fabric that rested against your abdomen, hoping to urge his hands away from you and the dress.

No such luck.

Instead, he ran his fingers up your skirt and along the outside of your thighs and hips, almost meeting the edge of your lace panties. Your traitorous body showed its hand, your nipples hardening in eagerness. Rio’s gaze predictably caught the action. And his face showed his approval.

“How long you been divorced?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion at his sudden curiosity. But the switch in topic had you alert again and somewhat clear of the fog he was so insistent on throwing you into.

“Why? What does that have to do with anything?” You questioned, stepping back from his body.

His hands fell away from you finally, but they didn’t stay idle for long. They skimmed over your hips, pressing your backside into the edge of the kitchen island.

“Answer me, mama.” He demanded, head craning down to meet your eyes. The intensity of his stare made you shift on your feet. He had an amazing poker face. A skill that left you envious.

“Two years.” You dutifully supplied, leaning backwards every inch that he moved in.

“It’s been that long then.” He commented with a nod, a finger tracing along the neckline of your dress, hovering just above your cleavage.

“That long for what?” You asked, taking note of the subtle ways in which his face changed. There was no trace of the teasing, light-hearted flirting that you’d become accustomed to seeing from him. He was serious. Almost as serious as the times he’d threatened your life. His touch was more insistent, telling you what he wanted rather than hinting. His mouth lowered to your ear, his nose brushing against your neck in a far too erotic manner. Your fingers itched to anchor yourself to him. You denied the request.

“Since someone stretched you out.”

A gasp caught in your throat, though you didn’t know if it was more from his words or his touch. He’d managed to slip a hand under your dress, tracing the crotch of your panties with a dexterous finger as he spoke.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You stammered, knuckles tightening against the edge of the counter you were currently gripping.

“I mean…” Rio started, lips brushing against the shell of your ear with each syllable. His finger barely teased your slit, but his voice more than compensated for the lack of physicality. “You haven’t had someone here,” He emphasized the word with a firm press of his finger against the soaked material that hid your clit from view. “In two years. Maybe more.”

You whimpered, biting your lip as he continued to manipulate your body. Your head screamed at you to stop, to pull away. But the sensation of his body pressed so firmly to yours was far too comforting to deny.

“You don’t know that.” You attempted, though the effort was obviously pointless. It was true. Since your separation and subsequent divorce from Paul, you’d barely been on a date, much less had sex. Your body was fiending for it...for him. And he knew it.

He scoffed, finding amusement in your words. He pressed his finger along the same dampened area, seeing your eyes roll into the back of your head. He licked his lips when your hand shot out to grasp at his wrist.

“Yeah, I do.” He affirmed with a nod, finger still teasing over your lace-covered slit. “He stepped out on you, didn’t he?” He continued, his eyes taking stock of the way you responded to his touch.

You had trouble focusing on the conversation he insisted on having while his hand was up your dress and practically in your underwear. You didn’t feel the need to supply an answer anyway. He already had all the information he needed.

“He didn’t deserve you.”

You were jolted back to reality by his words, straightening your spine and pushing his hand from between your legs.

“And what? You do?” You threw back, agitation seeping into your tone. You felt like he was patronizing you. He was always one step ahead. Always aware of the skeletons in your closet before you were.

“Never said that.” He said with a shake of his head, not stepping out of your space. His hands were off your body now, but the stains they’d left on you would remain there. They wouldn’t easily be erased. And you weren’t entirely sure that you wanted them to be.

“Why are you here?” You asked, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

“Business.”

“A simple call or text works for that.”

“Wanted to come in person.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. He wore an expression of smugness, as if he knew something you didn’t, which was often the case.

“What do you want then?”

“Why don’t you tell me?” He retorted swiftly, lips pulled into a thin line.

The seriousness was back, his eyes nearly swallowing you as all humor became sucked from the room. The nerves in your stomach came back full force, the fear aiding them in their efforts. He was challenging you, apparently done with your lying.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to even begin. He was too intimidating. Just too much.

“I-I can’t.” You finished lamely, shaking your head and looking down at your feet.

He tilted your chin up, his mouth only centimeters from yours as he dared you to move.

“Just say the word.” He rasped against your lips, his free hand cradling your cheek.

You let yourself stare back, taking in his dark lashes and the angles of his face. He confused you on many levels, angered you beyond belief. He made your life a living hell. And yet, you wanted him more than anything. More than the money and the thrill of crime. And somehow he was privy to it all. And he wanted to give it to you.

So you were going to let him.

“Kiss me.” You breathed out, your hands finally coming to rest on his chest.

He needed no further encouragement. His mouth settled over yours in a tangle of lips and tongues. He tasted like mint, his lips much softer than they looked. The scratch of his facial hair only added to the moment as you pressed further into him, asking him to take more.

He did.

His hands were rough, but not unpleasant as they trailed along your body. They had the marks of healed scars. Not to mention the blood of those who chose to cross him. They were everywhere and all at once. Your breasts, your neck, your waist, your ass. He kneaded where he knew you yearned for more and tenderly stroked the areas in between. You struggled to keep up as his hips pushed into yours, his own yearning making its presence known.

“We shouldn’t do this.” You managed to say between heavy breaths, Rio’s mouth attaching to your neck and sucking near your throbbing pulse.

“Why not?” He mumbled into your skin, hands unwilling to slow down.

“Things will get complicated.”

He pulled himself away from the crook of your neck, his thumb running over your kiss-swollen pout.

“Yeah, they will.” He said with a chuckle, that devilish smirk staring back at you.

It was all a blur after that.

Limbs intertwined together as you worked on the buckle of his pants while he pushed your dress up and over your hips this time. He harshly pulled the lace away, the elastic snapping against your thighs as it got caught before making its way to the floor. Your mouths didn’t separate, not even when he lifted you onto the counter. He pulled one side of your dress away, exposing the matching bra you wore underneath. Your pebbled nipples called to him and he responded, massaging the flesh with expert precision. You moaned and writhed like a woman possessed. Like a woman that hadn’t been laid in two years.

“Feels good?”

The roughened gravel of his voice made your walls spasm, the hint of self-assuredness causing a wave of arousal to seep from within you. You could only nod, wordlessly pleading with him to continue on. His touch ventured south to your spread thighs. You widened them, allowing him access to the place you needed him the most. He didn’t disappoint.

His fingers were long and probing as they penetrated your sex, slipping easily in. You gasped at the fullness, the stretch around him making your eyes squeeze shut. He let your body guide him as he rubbed at your clit, his fingers curling against your walls.

“I’m...god...I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, only somewhat embarrassed by the suddenness of your climax.

He worked hard and faster. Your nails dug into his back, your mouth landing on his shoulder as you struggled to not cry out. You bit down when the euphoria of orgasm washed over you, trapping his hand within you. He could feel every tremor he brought forth as you shook in his arms. It felt like it lasted for hours, your body unwilling to let the feeling be a fleeting moment in time.

“You still with me?” He asked, lips pressed to your temple.

You nodded, hissing when he removed his fingers from the confines of your body. You watched, feeling as if you were in a daze. He shifted his pants and boxers down, revealing his length to your ravenous eyes. The hand that had been so deeply embedded in you now wrapped around himself. He was long and hard, as rigid as his hands. You felt like a moth to a flame, hand reaching out to feel if he was real. He was.

You swiped your finger over the tip of him and were overcome with wanton pride at feeling the moisture that sat there. His jaw clenched in a way that you’d only ever seen him do in anger. He didn’t allow you to continue. In an instant he was wedged between your thighs, his body already pushing into your waiting sex. Even with the climax from his fingers, he was a tight fit. You both expelled breaths, his a mumbled curse and yours a throaty moan. You shut your eyes as a new burst of pleasure radiated from your core and traveled up your spine. There was only a brief moment of intimacy as he sat unmoving within you, letting your body adjust to him.

It was short-lived.

“Fuck...” He cursed as he began to fuck you into the counter, hands holding your hips in place.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lavished yours with kisses and bites, each thrust of his hips causing his teeth to graze your skin. The chill of the marble countertop beneath your bare ass cooled your overheated skin. You bit your lip so hard you could taste blood as he filled you over and over, each pass making your walls accept more of him. He was deep and hitting that gloriously elusive spot that sat within your womb. 

He cupped your breasts while you scraped your nails down his back, hearing him growl in response. The sound made you yearn to hear more. So, you did something you’d always wanted to do...you licked the ink on his throat. You decorated his skin with tantalizing kisses, your tongue aiding your actions. He shivered against your lips, the reaction making your walls clench around him. He was, at least for the moment, a slave to your ministrations. And it was a high unlike any drug you’d ever encountered.

It was animalistic fucking at its finest. He hit every nerve, soothed every ache. The union of your bodies was enough to send you sailing off the proverbial cliff, but his touch kept you tethered to solid ground, longing for more. He rocked his hips mercilessly into you, making your back arch at an almost painful angle.

“Right there, huh?” He teased, feeling you squeeze around him in raw desire. “Yeah, that’s the spot.”

You whimpered and tensed when he savagely rubbed your swollen clit, forcing your legs to tighten around him. He laughed, the sound ominous in your ringing ears. You could only hold on as he delivered the sweetest torture you’d ever felt. You spread your thighs wider, trying to get him closer than humanly possible. You opened your neck up to him, letting him have access to your bare flesh. You wanted him all over you and leaving a scorching trail of hunger in his wake.

It was manic. It was frenzied. It was passionate. And it all combined into a seductive elixir that made fireworks burst from within.

“Shit...I’m cumming.” You warned, feeling him double his efforts. Every muscle went taut with blinding pleasure as that coil finally snapped. You felt weightless, and yet the firm body still driving into your depths made you feel sublimely solid. And whole. More whole than you’d felt in the entirety of your marriage.

It was on the tail-end of your climax that Rio found his. His hips stuttered as he grunted and groaned, releasing himself into you and painting your walls. His fingers dug into the flesh of your inner thighs while his face burrowed into your chest and neck. It was as uninhibited as you’d seen him. And you were addicted to the sight. 

You both heaved with shallow breaths, the exertion of each of your climaxes literally taking the air from your lungs. The room smelled of sex and instant regret as you straightened in Rio’s arms. He separated from your body, eyeing you as he redressed. You shifted your dress back together to cover your bra, the mess between your thighs preventing you from closing them completely. 

Before you could say anything, Rio reached up and cradled your cheek. He played with your bottom lip, his thumb once again finding the appendage. His eyes took in every part of you, as if he hadn’t fucked you senseless seconds before. He licked his lips in that dangerous way that let you know his thoughts were on more than just money.

“Business is good?” He asked, warm palm still pressed to your cheek.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Cool, cool.” He nonchalantly replied, hand leaving your face as he stepped back from your debauched body. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You said with a nod, pushing your dress further down over your thighs, a lame effort to protect any modesty you might’ve still possessed. He smirked at the action.

“Might wanna clean up the mess.” He said with a cheeky upturn of his lips, hands gesturing to the remaining fragments of ceramic that still littered the floor but eyes locked solely to the spot between your legs. The place he knew he’d left a part of himself.

You bit your lip and nervously played with the hem of your dress, feeling his eyes bore into you. Despite still being fully dressed, you felt naked to him. Bare. Exposed. Vulnerable. You hated it.

He retreated, facing you as he walked backwards towards the front door. You watched him from over your shoulder, still unsure of what to make of the whole situation. 

“And lock your door from now on. All kinds of madmen running around these streets.” He quipped, eyes lighting up at his own joke.

He was gone as fast as he’d arrived, causing havoc and then leaving without a second thought. The door closed with a crisp click at his exit, the house now feeling bare without his foreboding presence.

You didn’t move from your spot. You remained on the counter, Rio still leaking from your walls and your dress still disheveled despite your best efforts. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one riddled with panic. His unexpected visit left you with more questions than answers, all of which were tinged with fear. What did this development mean for you? Did it actually mean anything? Or was he simply taking what was so obviously laid out in front of him?

Did it matter?

No. It didn’t.

Because although he may have indulged your craving, your appetite was far from being fulfilled.

[inanotherheadspace]

The Adventures of Team Lune - Chapter Three: The Tale of Two Kitties

Summary: A dragon slayer, a demon slayer, and a god slayer walk into a Guild Hall… and all goes to hell

Pairings: Natsu x Fem OC, Gajeel x Fem OC, Gray x Fem OC, Sting x Fem OC, Laxus x Fem OC, Loke x Fem OC

Word Count: 2,817

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

“How long are we talking about?” Gajeel quipped as Calypso poured the Jasmine tea into two matching mugs.  

“Well, I should probably start with how Team Lune was formed-”

“I just wanna know about Astria’s damn cat.”

“That’s the thing, she’s not just Ria’s cat. Opal just likes Ria the best.” Calypso smiled softly to the gruff dragon slayer as she placed his mug in front of him before taking her seat.

“Thank you.” He mumbled before picking up the pale pink mug and blowing on its hot contents. “How’d you join the guild and meet them then?”

“Oh, the wolves set me free after mastering my magic and I just kinda stumbled into the guild hall.” Gajeel almost choked on his tea at her statement.

“Wolves?”

“Yeah, the only way you can learn Moon magic is from this one eternal wolf pack. Like how you, Ria, and Natsu were trained by dragons. Funny enough, because of my training, I also have a good sense of smell and hearing. My nose isn’t as strong as my ears are though.”

“Just like we do,” Gajeel mumbled, more so to himself than to anyone else. The plumette across from him simply nodded before taking a sip of her tea. “How’d you end up with the wolves?” Calypso’s eyes dropped to her hands as she began to play with her fingers.  

“I don’t know much more than what Leto told me. Apparently, my mother was killed, there was a battle, maybe even a war – all I know is that our home was destroyed. My mother was a student of the wolves when she was a kid, so she left me with them while she fought.”

“Leto, is that your wolf?”

“Hmm, in a sense yes. She’s the pack leader. I have the same loyalty to her and my pack as you dragon slayers have to your respective dragons.” After a momentary pause to drink more tea, the mage continued. “Ria came to the guild with Natsu, and May was found outside the Guild’s doors as a newborn. For the longest time, Ria stuck to Natsu and May was oddly drawn to Mystogan. Both were very shy – all of us were as kids. I became friends with Cana, the two of us would go on the jobs Master approved of. The three of us never really became close until Mystogan left on an S-Class quest. Master demanded that May stay back, that was a dark day. This strong kid that I always looked up to just, broke.” Gajeel kept his eyes on Calypso as her eyebrows drawn together as she focused on the cup in her hands.  

“Master eventually got tired of May’s attitude and moodiness. He decided to take Ria away from Natsu and me away from Cana. Without telling any of us, he sent us out individually to the same job. We all left mere hours apart no less, none of us caught on until we all showed up at the same door for the requested meeting time. It was a simple job – just to find a lost item. Gramps figured we could find it easy. Between mine and Ria’s tracking skills and May’s all-around bossiness – it was done by nightfall. We’ve been together ever since.”

“Thats nice and all, but I only want to know about the cat.” Gajeel grumbled before finishing his tea.  

“A good story is informative and well rounded. It’s a form of art and in this house, you’ll respect it.” She quipped back; her eyes flicked up to meet his in a demanding stare down.  

“What are you going to do if I don’t?” He matched her intense glare as the words left his lips. A sinister smirk spread across Calypso's face, sending a slight shiver down the Iron Dragon Slayer’s spine.  

“Well, for starters, you wouldn’t ever make it out of this house. What happens after that – probably a few broken ribs, lots of chains, and maybe a whip.” She broke eye contact with him as an almost undetectable trace of blush speckled her face. Gajeel’s trained eyes picked up on it quickly, before a faint blush appeared on his own face after her words sunk in. The slight silence became unbearable for Calypso, her hands began to fidget with her mug once more.

“We got Opal as a reward from a quest. It was weird – they gave us this light pink egg with silver and black sparkles and swirls on it. None of us had any clue what to do with it. When we got back to the guild, we found out Natsu and Lisanna had found one in the forest as well. Ria, May and I joined them in the woods to hatch the eggs. Well, whenever May was actually around the five of us kept the two eggs warm – that was really Natsu’s specialty.” As Calypso spoke and reminisced, a smile stayed on her lips. A small laugh escaped her as she thought more on the story before continuing.  

“I was no help at all, and the others realized that pretty quickly. They put me in charge of gathering firewood and food. I mostly just avoided the place; they were holed up in the same woods my wolves are usually in too. So, I just hung around them more than anything. After about two weeks, Happy and Opal’s eggs hatched. They’ve been with us and a part of the guild since.”  

Before either of them could get another word in, the front door opened, and three voices could be heard. Calypso’s face lit up as her friends had arrived home, her tea and Gajeel completely forgotten. Gajeel looked past the plumette and out the kitchen window, the sky was pitch black.  

“I didn’t realize it was this late, I'll head out.” His gruff voice brought Calypso’s attention back to him.  

“Huh?” She asked before whipping around and looking out the window. Pieces of plum-colored locks fell from her bun, framing her face as she turned back to face him. “Sorry about that, I rambled on for too long. I’ll probably have to cook for the others, do you want to stay for dinner?”

“Depends on what you’re cooking,” Gajeel said as he got up from the table, Calypso followed suit and walked behind him towards the front door. Opal was resting in Astria’s arms as the three of them chatted in the living room.

“Hey Gajeel!” Astria called out with a wave.  

“Thanks for holding down the fort, Gajeel.” Natsu offered a small grin, as he turned to Calypso. “So, what’s for dinner?”

“Noodles and chicken thighs.” Calypso offered a shrug in response.  

“I’ll see you four at the guild.” He turned to Calypso and gave he a gentle pat on the head. “See you later brat.” Gajeel headed out the door as Calypso’s face turned bright red.  

“Wait, so you aren’t staying?” The plumette looked offended for a swift second, before her composure regained.

“Nah, I forgot I was going to train tonight since the weathers gonna be alright, since it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.” Gajeel grinned before slipping out the door and past Natsu.     “Did you two have a date? Are we interrupting?” Astria pouted momentarily, before the mocking tone dripped through her second question.   “He likes herrr!” Happy’s snarky comment broke the short pause. “It was nothing like that!” Calypso paused before biting back at her friend, “Did you and Natsu go on a date?” This caused the light blue haired dragon slayer to blush just as heavily as Calypso was. Astria waved her hands in the air as a way to dismiss Calypso’s question.   “Hey! We were training!” The pink haired dragon slayer crossed his arms over his chest before huffing.   “Aye Sir! We were training really hard Calypso!” Happy shouted along. “No yelling in the house! Indoor voices!” Opal folded her arms, before snuggling against Astria’s leg. “Lucy stopped us from training anymore for the night.” “I see, did you guys do that much damage?” “No... Not really...” Astria mumbled, patting Opal on the head softly. Opal offered a small smile in return before simply nodded, “It was some hefty damage, but it was a remote forest.” “Yeah, that sounds like you two. Dinner will be ready in half an hour, go wash up, you all smell disgusting.” Calypso offered a small grin, suppressing the disappointment that she wouldn’t have her company tonight.

◊◊◊◊

The guild hall was filled with noise, booze and the heavenly scent of food – even at 8 in the morning. Astria, and Calypso sat at a table closer to the bar, all still with sleep in their eyes.  

“Do you think I can grab a drink with breakfast?” Calypso asked her teammate.  

“Calypso Lunar. No!” Astria scolded the oldest member as Gray and Loke took up seats at their table.  

“May still hasn’t come back and I’m worried. I need something to take the edge off. What about a splash of something in my coffee? That should be fine right?”

“Okay Cana.” Gray teased the plumette, causing Astria to choke on her water.  

“Hey man, leave my Caly alone.” Loke said as he threw his arm around her shoulder. “Both her and Cana are hot and have huge boobs, if they wanna drink this early in the morning we shouldn’t stop them. Why you ask? Because us hot blooded men benefit from it in the long run. Especially since they both tend to strip when they drink a lot.”

“If you’re so worried about May, why don’t you just go look for her?” Gray asked the two mages. The two women in question just shared a look and nodded once before turning back to him.

“She’s seemed stressed since she’s come back from her mission. We want to give her some breathing room and not harass her about it. She’ll tell us when she’s ready too” Astria sighed before turning away from the guys and letting her eyes wonder around the guild hall.  

“That makes sense at least. How long has she been gone?” The slight worry in the ice mages voice caught Calypso and Loke’s attention. Both had a devious smile cross their lips and a dark look tinted their features.  

“Awwww is ice boy worried about my May?”  

“I think he is Caly. He’s worried about a hot young woman who’s kicked his ass time and time again. What’s the score now Gray? 132 to 0?” Loke added on, poking fun at his tsundere of a friend. Gray scoffed at the two before leaning back and crossing his arms. Before he could give his own witty remark back, the guild hall doors opened. A cross-breeze of wind carried the familiar scent to the Dragon Slayer’s nose.  

“Hey Caly, May’s back.” Astria pointed out as she kept her eyes on their short blonde friend. Caly’s head whipped around and saw her make her way over to them. “She looks unharmed which is good.”

“Her stomach just rumbled; I'll flag Mira down.” Calypso added as she waved over to the white-haired barmaid.  

“Hey guys, what can I get you?” Mira asked in her usual joy-filled tone.  

“Two breakfast specials, a thing of smoked salmon, and three extra strong coffees. Can you put something in one of them for me?” Calypso ordered easily, with her being the oldest of the three she always took care of the others.  

“Of course! I’ll be back with the drinks soon.” She walked back to her spot behind the bar as May finally arrived at the table.

“Hey...” The blonde spoke softly before taking the empty seat next to Calypso and across from Opal. Before the other two could speak, May pulled out two flyers from her pocket and showed them to her teammates. “The two of you should join the Miss Fairy Tail pageant. You guys have a better chance of taking home the gold if there's more than one of youse.”

“Jason’s a judge so I’m guaranteed top three.” Calypso said as she looked over the paper she snatched from May.  

“Didn’t he judge last year too, and Mira still won?” Gray snipped to get back at her from earlier. Loke and Calypso stared daggers at the ice mage.  

“Don’t listen to him. He’s ugly and unlovable, while you’re sexy and powerful. Which to be fair, is the best combo in a woman.” Loke complimented Calypso as her face continued to darken.

“I’ll skin you both alive if either of you continue to speak.”

“And on that note, I’ll be leaving.” Loke took his leave from the table, leaving Calypso’s death glare to Gray.  

“All I have to do is whistle, and I can have a pack of wolves maul you to death.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah I know. You need a new threat Calypso; you’ve used that one too many times already.” As Gray spoke, Mira silently placed the drinks on the table for the three women and scurried away. She valued her life too much to get between the bickering mages.  

“Probably as much as you take your clothes off.” Astria added as she shoved the ice mage away from her in a playful manner.

“As the leader of Team Lune, I need you all to behave while we’re at the guild.” Opal said sarcastically.   “Yes, I’m so sorry, oh great master Opal.” May said as the three mages bowed to the light pink feline.  

“What the actual fuck is your team?” Gray asked with scrunched eyebrows. In a split second, May was behind Gray as her palms were placed on both of his ears, applying a light pressure as she looked to her friends.   “Speak like that again and I’ll blow you up so badly they’ll be piecing you back together for weeks.” Gray hunched back a bit at her words, before sighing.   “Yeah yeah, whatever,” he let out with a huff.

“And we’ll feed your body parts to my wolves.” Calypso added with a smug smile.  

“Do you not feed them? Isn’t that animal cruelty?”

“I do feed them, they just like people meat. And they like it fresh too.”  

“You need psychological help.”

“Everyone in this guild does.” Astria added to as she was looking over Mays shoulder at her pink haired best friend.  

“Open your mouth again and see what happens ice stripper.” May threatened once more.  

“I’ll be taking my leave now too.” Gray sighed as he pushed the chair back and left the table. Mira made her way back to the table with breakfast as May took Gray’s seat.

“Enjoy Ladies!” Mira called as she turned and headed back.  

“So, to confirm – you two are joining the pageant and we’re going on this job.” May stated as she cut into her food.

“Job?” Calypso and Astria asked in unison.

“Oh yeah I forgot to explain that since ice box interrupted us. It’s a simple one for 100,000 jewels. We just need to capture a bandit, so it’ll take us what, an hour at most? Easy money.” May explained as Calypso downed her alcoholic coffee.  

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. When do we leave?”

“Give me two hours to drink a bit more and nap.” Calypso stated as she let out a yawn.

“You can nap on the train.” Opal spoke softly as she snacked on her salmon.  

“This is why you’re in charge!” The three mages said in unison to the cat.  

“Does it have to be a train though? Can’t we fly?” Astria asked with sadness in her voice.  

“Opal can’t carry all three of us Ria.” May stated softly as she picked at her breakfast. The four sat in silence for a few seconds before Calypso spoke up.

“I’m gonna go threaten Gajeel. Do we think I can convince him to let me braid his hair?” Calypso asked as she stood up from the table.

“Maybe if you challenge him to something and use it as your prize.” Astria pitched to the plum haired mage.  

“Say less.” Calypso sauntered over to where Cana, Gajeel and Juvia were seated and sat next to her best friend.  

“So, uhhh. May I'm not going on a train so you’re on your own. I love you!” Astria said as she skipped out off with Opal following behind.  

“Well then, I see how it is.” May spoke to no one before letting out a sigh. She silently continued to eat her meal before heading out on her now solo job. As she continued to pick at her food, she looked over to her friends – Caly was shoving a beer in Gajeel’s hand with a smile on her face. While Ria was happily sitting across from Natsu and Happy with Opal in her lap. The four of them were laughing happily as May sat by herself. They really would be okay without me, May thought to herself with another silent sigh.

[thecatwhogrins]

The Red-Haired Maiden, the Little Wolf and the Firebird

A little Obiyuki firebird au fic for Obiyukimadness20, please enjoy!

Tsarevitch Raji Shenazade has demanded to see a Firebird.

A rumor had been spreading throughout the kingdom, from village to village, till it had reached the glistening towers of St. Petersburg. There, the rumour had spread like wildfire, and soon enough it caught the attention of the grandson of the great Tsar. The young noble was entitled to demand such things, even if this meant that many men would die trying to achieve this. If it is his will, it shall be done.

“Only a spoiled princeling like him would send his subordinates chasing after an old maid's tale", thought Obi bitterly as he shivered in the cold.

Obi was one of such attendants, the son of a skilled hunter, and the best one at that. But he was of a lower birth status, and this could be felt in the way the other young nobles looked at him. Obi simply let them do what they wanted, his attention was all on tracking the god forsaken bird. If he did not find the bird, he knew the princeling would throw out men from the throne room windows and behead the rest. Although Obi didn’t particularly like any of the snobby noble men or spineless servants, he did value his own life and the prize that had been promised if he succeeded in this task.

Freedom.

And so, this was the reason why a pack of young and not so young noblemen and servants scoured the thick forest on the edge of the eastern border of the kingdom, boot-clad feet deep in thick blankets of snow. They walked in a single file, the younger ones were rowdier and made much more noise. Obi stuck to the front, his footfalls as silent as a wolf's, his ears perking at every sound. Tracking a bird that no one has never seen was not an easy task, to say the least. His full attention was on finding a sign, any kind of sign to prove that the bird existed.

“Don’t go too far ahead, Volchonak, we don’t all run on all fours like you.” One of the men shouted, mocking Obi who simply let it go.

Volchonak, little wolf.

That nickname was better than others he had been called in the past. At least this evoked something to be feared, to be reckoned with. Obi simply advanced, leaving behind him the childish nobles.

As night encroached upon the trees, the group set up camp and lit a bonfire to ward off any nightly visitors from surprising them in their sleep. One of the younger nobles called Ryuu Ivanovitch was to be on sentry duty with Obi and had visibly never done such work before. He peered into the only darkness nervously but with a dignified countenance as he sat down next to Obi under a huge pine tree. They sat at the foot of a huge fir, both wearing as many layers of clothes they could, bundled up until only their eyes and noses could be seen. As the other nobles started to go to sleep, one of Ivan’s friends passed him and snickered.

“Ryuu Ivanovitch! Don’t get lost in the forest now, Baba Yaga might just snatch you up and eat you.” He laughed and continued towards the snow hole he’d be sleeping in. Ryuu pouted, displeased, and Obi rolled his eyes while his thumb strokes the hilt of his hunting knife. Obi was less preoccupied with Baba Yaga and more worried about wolves or bears, not that he would tell the young nobleman next to him. The last thing he needed to deal with during the night would be a panic-stricken pup clinging onto him. But it would be funny to tease him.

“Decisions, Decisions...” Obi sighed and looked towards the tree line a few meters away.

Obi's keen eyes suddenly caught something glistening a few meters away. It glowed like the gold that decorated the throne room. He rushed over to the object and found a single golden feather with bright red edges. It looked nothing like any kind of feather he had ever seen. It had melted slightly the snow around it but didn’t look hot anymore. Obi still hesitated to take it. He finally gingerly picked it up between gloved fingers. The feather was still slightly warm and shone brightly. It looked almost like an ornament a skilled craftsman had forged and dropped onto the snowy forest ground.

As Obi looked up a quiet sound resounded above his head. High above him, perched on a tree branch, sat a girl. She wore a necklace made of the same kind of feather Obi held in the palm of his hands. Her hair was a brilliant red, it glowed like a beacon in the frigid night air. She was staring at him curiously and the bonfire added a radish hue upon her face. She looked positively fiery, as though she herself was in fact the fire bird, a notion Obi refused to consider.

“Um...hello there miss?” he called up to her.

Ryuu looked up from where he sat at the base of the tree. His black brows furrowed but he did not utter a word. He suddenly cried out in alarm at the same time as the woman in the tree:

“Volchonak! Be careful!”

Obi barely had time to react as he suddenly was tackled to the ground by a creature, fur and weight and warmth smothering him. A row of sharp teeth snapped near his throat, nearly missing him.

It was a wolf.

How ironic.

He couldn’t make it out completely in the dying fire’s light, but it was huge and fierce. Its paws scratching at him as he grappled with it, avoiding its maw. They struggled in the snow, the beast was snarling, Obi was making almost inhuman desperate noises as desperately trying to get his hunting knife. The other men had also woken up, alarmed by all the noises and by Ryuu screaming.

The wolf suddenly got hold of the arm Obi was using to shield his face, and he hissed with pain. Fortunately, his teeth hadn’t sunk in too deep, but the pain was still intense. Obi glared at him, eyes locking with his adversary’s. It felt like a lifetime had passed when Obi finally grasped his weapon and slashed at the wolf’s eye. It whimpered and let him go, backing away. Obi’s head was spinning, the frigid night air coming out in breathless gasps. The beast turned away and raced into the night.

The other men were also trying to fend off other wolves with their hunting equipment. There was one man already down, his crimson blood spilt over the cold ground. After a few more minutes of panic, they managed to steer them away. Obi observed this all lying on the snowy ground, it thick like a carpet but colder than hell.

From where he was lying down, his gaze met the woman’s as she huddled in the tree. There was a look of worry on her face as he slowly sat up. The knife was still held in his hand tightly, blood from his arm trailing down, warm and wet. Ryuu helped him to stand up completely, asking him if he was feeling well.

“Are you hurt?” the woman asked with a melodious voice.

“I’ll survive,” obi answered, even though he still felt slightly light-headed.

After a few moments of silence, she asked another question:

“Are you here to see the fire bird?”

Obi hesitated slightly before answering.

“Wait, you know of the fire bird? What are you doing here? What is your name?” he asked.

“My name is Shirayuki, I live in the cottage not too far from here and I was out hunting for some herbs. I climbed this tree when the wolf attacked me, but it seems… I can’t get back down again.” She smiled sheepishly.

Obi’s brain worked double time as he tried to detect anything amiss in her story, but everything seemed a little too convenient. And that necklace… those were not normal feathers.

“Let me help you down, miss.” he smiled up at her. The time for questions would come later.

Obi directed her on where to put her hands and feet as Ryuu Ivanovitch watched silently next to him. The other men were all asleep and no other sounds disturbed the night but the wind howling and Obi’s calm voice. Shirayuki was about halfway down when suddenly the branch on which she was standing broke. Snow dropped heavily, her screamed filled the empty air and Obi suddenly found himself with an armful of red head and his arm was screaming in pain once more.

The night air turned silent again and Obi’s arms tightened around the young woman. Her green eyes were wide, still burning with fear and staring into Obi’s golden ones. Their breaths came out in puffs as they both calmed down. The whole camp full of groggy, grumpy men started to circle the three of them. Then, Shirayuki smiled, a small bright thing that grew more and more till she started to laugh. It was a bright sound, clear as bells in the middle of winter.

“Thank you for saving me, Volchonak.” She thanked him softly once she stopped laughing, “oh no! Your arm! I’m so sorry,” she quickly added, hastily getting out of his arms.

“You’re welcome miss.” He answered as he set her down. His heart was beating fast, but it wasn’t in fear. He gripped his injury, trying to staunch the blood.

“What’s this girl doing in the middle of our camp at this ungodly hour of the night?” asked Alexei Vasiliev, one of the lords on the hunt.

“I’m not too sure”, said one of the older servant men, Andrei Popovitch, “but it looks like she might be one of our men’s women who’s come on the hunt.”

The other men laughed at this but suddenly one of them cried out in surprise.

“My lord, look at her neck, those feathers, aren’t they strange?”

Shirayuki looked down at her chest where the feathers glowed dimly in the light of the campfire.

“They are strange! Speak, girl, tell us where you found them!” exclaimed Alexei Popovitch.

“This necklace is made of the firebird’s feathers. He does not give them out freely, but I saved his life once so to repay this kindness, he gave these to me.” Shirayuki explained. Obi felt surprise and suspicion worm their way into him. Living in the palace, he had met many a man who would spin the wildest tales in hopes of pleasing whoever listened in hopes of a few roubles.

“You know where the firebird is?” Obi interjected.

“I don’t know where he is right now, if that’s what you’re asking me.” Shirayuki answered, “he doesn’t come to my bidding, he has a mind of his own. The firebird assists me when I heal people. He comes to me when I need him. But he is a fickle creature and doesn’t always come when I think he will.” She laughed slightly at this.

“You’re a healer, then?” Obi asked.

She explained how she grew up in the forest with her grandparents. Her grandfather was a woodcutter and her grandmother taught her how to recognize plants and how to use them to heal people. Many people from the surrounding villages would often come visit her grandmother, seeking her skills. She continued with her grandmother’s the family business and cured whoever came to her cottage in exchange of things she could not provide for herself such as food and other rare items. Throughout this story, Obi looked at Shirayuki and she seemed truthful, her eyes shining slightly when she spoke of her grandfather’s passing, her grief still apparent, a small smile nonetheless playing on her lips. A strange sadness gripped his own heart and Obi had to look away from her eyes.

“It’s my turn to ask questions now,” she said with an inquisitive smile, “why do you seek the firebird?”

Obi was silent for a moment, a heartbeat. Telling her the truth was risky.

“We are not seeking it for glory, if that is what is worrying you. In fact, we don’t have much of a say in the matter. Our lord wishes to see the bird. We are simply here to execute.” Obi explained.

Shirayuki cocked her head at him, her brows drawn in a frown.

“What will you do when you see it? Will you hurt it?”

“No, Tsarevich Raji only wishes to see it so we will capture it, bring it before his highness and set it free.” Alexei Vasiliev answered. The lie was obvious for anyone who lived with nobility. Obi tensed up. Shirayuki seemed to not believe the noble man and instead looked at Obi, with a slight tilt of her brow. Obi looked away, under her scrutiny he suddenly felt very small, very much like his nickname.

“Well, if that is all you wish to do, I might be able to summon the bird tomorrow, we simply must find its roosting nest on the top of the mountain.” She explained calmly.

“We shall sort this out in the morning. Everybody will wake up at dawn. Everybody go back to rest and if someone wakes me up again, so help me God, they will get a beating they shall remember.” said Alexei Vasiliev. The men grumbled and returned to their snow holes, shivering and cursing at the cold.

Only Obi, Ryuu and Shirayuki remained, an uncomfortable silence reigning. The next round of night watch brought out two more young hunters to take over. Obi let them take his place under the fir tree and headed towards his sleeping hole he would share with someone else. Ryuu, mostly silent during the whole interaction shuffled off sleepily towards his own sleeping hole. As Obi neared his resting spot, he realised Shirayuki was following him softly.

“Let me help you with your wound,” she said softly, bringing out herbs and other equipment out of a small satchel she wore.

“I’m sorry, this might hurt,” she said as she borrowed the deer skin full of alcohol and used it to drench his wound, disinfecting it. She then applied some herbs that smelled rather strongly, making Obi’s nose wrinkle in distaste. She finished by bandaging his arm quickly with a fresh piece of linen. Her hands on his skin were soft, almost too warm compared to the cold air. Her head was bowed, concentration etched on her features. Obi’s heart was once again racing. He was so distracted, he barely heard her when she voiced her request.

“Can I borrow your snow hole please? It’s too late for me to dig one myself” she asked softly. There was no trace of embarrassment like the blushing maidens back in the village would have had. Her crimson hair was all tussled from the wind and falling from a tree. Obi could even detect a few pine needles sticking out of it. A small smile played on her rosebud lips. Utterly charming. Obi swallowed hard.

“Of course, little miss. Let me just move over, make some space for you. Don’t want it to be too tight.” Obi almost winked and thought better of it. Shirayuki looked rather unfazed, probably missing the double entendre.

“Actually, when it’s this cold, it’s better to sleep closer together to retain the heat,” she said unabashedly. Obi almost choked.

“Yeah…Yes, you’re right! Come on, before we wake up anyone again.” Obi hurriedly said.

Shirayuki settled next to him, the bonfire did not illuminate the hole, so Obi could only see her profile outlined in the dark. The silence was only interrupted by the sounds of the forest and Shirayuki’s light breathing. Obi was known to be a flirt, but he wasn’t accustomed to see a woman this unabashed.

He closed his eyes and tried to get some rest.

[youngboy-oldmind]

DISCOGRAPHY REVIEW: 1) THE INCREDIBLE TRUE STORY ft. My Girlfriend

“Tell me what I wouldn't wanna give for a life like this, arm and a leg quite like this/ Fuck around wanna fight like this, take a hike like this/ I might just, might just, I don't know/ Reinvention, that's my intention/ Want so much more than this third-dimension/ That's not to mention my true ascension is a bigger picture/ No metaphor, I’m being real with ya”

Overall Thoughts

After the success and impressive display Under Pressure, Logic follows up with his sophomore album The Incredible True Story: A perfect embodiment of Logic as a person, rapper, and artist. Here, he is at his most creative, telling an entire story through the lens of a futuristic fictional sci-fi story. Filled with narratives, skits that give insight to the crew’s personalities, and an overall message that resonates even after the album concludes, The Incredible True Story is the perfect reflection of Logic as an artist.

If someone asked me to introduce them to Logic, I’d start with this album. If you start with a deeper, more experimental album like Everybody or a project not quite as unique like Under Pressure, they may be left unsatisfied or unimpressed. But it’s near impossible to dislike his most rounded and well-constructed project.

I’ve said this with every project of his, but the production was excellent. The techy, spacey instrumentals perfectly parallel the theme and tone of the project. The vocal inflections on “Fade Away”, “Young Jesus”, “Run It” and the choir in the first half of “City of Stars” were all brilliantly executed. Also, Logic allowed collaborations on some tracks and they were some of the highlights on the album: Big Lenbo on “Young Jesus”, Lucy Rose on “Innermission”, and Jesse Boykins III on “Paradise”. Overall, the construction of each song on this album was near perfect. It can’t be overstated.

Logic branched out stylistically on this project. On Under Pressure, each song had a relatively similar tone, which made that project very consistent yet unspectacular. The fixed tone was good for the purpose of that project but restricted him from reaching a high peak. Here, his delivery, instrumentals, and lyrical style varied and was less consistent, allowing him to reach highs like “Fade Away” and “City of Stars” while also allowing him to reach lows like “I Am The Greatest”. Despite that flaw, the unique style of the album improves its overall ranking and separates him from the issue of his last project; the issue of being indistinct and being a carbon copy of his influences. 

That’s one of the biggest strengths of this album. While I can think of other artists that could do Under Pressure or No Pressure, I don’t think anyone can do The Incredible True Story. Logic has a niche combination of lyrical talent, production skills, and geekiness that shines profusely. 

The main theme of this project is doing what you love and finding life. This theme paired the fictional nature of the album’s structure loosens the restraint on Logic. Before, he was limited by discussing his experiences and thoughts in an autobiographical way, whereas now he’s allowed to discuss things from an outside perspective and speak more prophetically.

Album Breakdown

Side Note: I will be adding comments and thoughts from my girlfriend who also loves this album. Her comments will be bolded.

1. Contact

This was extremely creative. I was instantly drawn into the music. Sounded like a soundtrack I'd hear in a movie. And the introductory conversation between the two men established a very interesting and compelling start to the album and makes it feel like I'm getting ready to start a story book. Solid start, can't wait to see what happens.

2. Fade Away

Off the rip, this track had me excited. As I mentioned earlier, the composition and instrumental is excellent. He also comes through with an intense flex of delivery and rhyming and syllable scheme construction. This is the first song I’ve ever heard from Logic and it still gets my hype every time I hear it.

The flow in this song just hit me like a truck. The lyrics were pretty good and not necessarily a brag, but more of a showcase of pride. The music was also very catchy and had my bobbing my head before he started rapping. But the flow! Absolutely loved it. Def a hype song for me.

3. Upgrade

This track transitions well from the previous song discussing kai upgrading his system. Logic discusses “upgrading” from his old life and mindset. The space background with a simple drum pattern is satisfying.

Loved how the intro music played off of the space theme established by the intro. The music was already banging, and the countdown had me anticipating what's to come. Liked how the lyrics also incorporated space elements. Somewhat simple song with somewhat basic lyrics, but overall still quite enjoyable.

4. White People (Scene)

This was super fun to listen to and I was laughing when the black guy made fun of the white-man-horror-movie stereotype. I was almost wishing for them to investigate. I am really liking this album so far. Who knew Logic was such a innovative storyteller.

5. Like Woah

Although this song doesn’t say much content wise, the vocals were pretty slick and the instrumental was constructed well. Verses were average and I found the chorus a little iffy. But overall, it’s one of the more mid tracks.

The others definitely fit the theme of the space, but this song felt more of a Top 100 hits song. The flow was not as stellar as the songs so far, definitely no Fade Away, but still steady and impressive nonetheless. Nerdy comment, but the music reminded me of something I'd hear in a video game with the female singing--maybe Zelda or Fire Emblem.

6. Young Jesus

Although this song isn’t in my top 3, it’s still one of my favorite on the album. The boom bap 90s throwback mixes well with the modern, techy sound of the album. Logic and Big Lenbo both flow perfectly; this some of the best chemistry Logic has had with another rapper, the only other contender being Big Sean. Instrumentally this song stands out the most because its composition derives so much from the rest of the track list.

This throwback to the 90s flow with a slight modern twist was fresh as hell and a very fun listen. I actually very much enjoyed Logic's flow in this song. "See I'm a self diagnosed hypochrondria/ Either at the crib, or on the tour bus, is where you'll find me at" was a fun, funky flow that had me smiling as I listened to it. Would have definitely enjoyed if he did this flow and slight drawl in words a bit more. Big Lenbo was perfect for this song. His voice has that 90s feel and his lyrics fit the bragging feel seen in old hip hop songs.

7. Innermission

Another top track on this project, “Innermission” features Logic discussing his life’s purpose and “inner mission”. Lucy Rose on the chorus is beautiful. The mellow beat allows Logic to truly dive into his thoughts without being overwhelmed by the instrumental. And I loved the skit at the end.

Not gonna lie, the music initially reminds me of elevator music, but the lyrics hit hard. Hearing his story of his home life and his friend in prison was...heartfelt? It made me introspective of my role in my friend's lives and my own background. This song has a nostalgia to it as Logic retrospects his life before reaching fame, yet an almost hopeful undertone as he contemplates why he wanted this lifestyle and how he managed to actually accomplish it. And, of course, ending the song with a child continuing the space them fully establishes the air of wistfulness as I hear the kid's innocent tone reminiscing about his home. Genius move.

8. I Am The Greatest

There are few songs that make me rush to the skip button. “I Am The Greatest” is one of them. I hate this song. The different voice clips have no rhythm or syncopation, seemingly haphazardly tossed together. The beat is underwhelming and the yelling is obnoxious. And logics lyrics and delivery are really bad. I strongly believe this should’ve been cut or put on a project like Bobby Tarantino.

9. The Cube (Scene)

As someone who can rap and solve a Rubiks cube, I found this very funny. But also ironic, since I pulled exactly 0 girls from solving it. But, Logic is a nerd and this skit fits his personality well.

So this didn't make much sense until I looked up "logic the cube" and saw some videos of him solving a Rubik’s cube. Cute that he inserted a past time into this.

10. Lord Willin’

Logic has a very distinct flow throughout this album. It's very similar in each song with similar rhythm--I find myself bobbing my head at the same speed as his other songs. Not a bad thing, but just an interesting note. I actually quite like it, though. It makes the songs in this album more harmonious and makes it feel like one long story, rather than several songs thrown together onto one album. The lyrics themselves were actually quite inspirational. I felt a sense of pride in myself swell as I listened to him overcoming and living a full life and encouraging me to do the same. 

11. City of Stars

Arguably one of the best on the album, “City of Stars” features Logic discusses his negative/toxic relationship with the hip hop industry. The spacey beat and echoey chorus vocals area AWESOME. The echo on the snare paints a visual of singing in a wide open space. Logic’s singing is above average, his use of auto-tune isn’t bad either. The beat switch to an intense boom bap and going in sent shivers down my spine. Although this has been done before, its definitely an excellently put together concept.

Also, only hip hop fans will notice but Logic incorporates patterns and lyrics from other songs: Drake’s ��Forever”, Kanye West’s “Last Call” & “Two Words” of The College Dropout, and Talib Kewli’s “Get By”. Logic isn’t one to shy away from nodding to his influences, but here it feels like paying homage instead of stealing. Top 3 track.

12. Stainless

This song is 100% dope. From the vocals on the chorus, complex background in the instrumental, Logic’s intense flow and delivery, along with the content. Another top 3 on the album.

Bruuuh, this song slapped from the moment it started. The music had a flow different from the other songs, and his energy from the first few lyrics was solid as hell. I was hype and smiling not even 20 seconds in. This is a riding-with-the-windows-down-with-the-volume-blarring-on-the-highway-as-you-flaunt-your-youth-and-just-jam-hard kind of song. I would have def played this before a basketball game to get myself hype.

13. Babel (Scene)

“Babel” was the best skit by far. I think this plays well into the theme of the album: The concept of doing what you love and finding life. This skit mentions how “paradise” may not be something you find, but something you make and maintain. And on the flip side, you can also turn paradise into “purgatory”. So this journey is about creating the best and making your own incredible life instead of trying to find it. It also transitions well into the next song both musically and thematically.

14. Paradise

This was an interesting song. When he described Paradise initially, he spoke of it as a land of racial equality. I had not expected race to play a major role in this story, but it makes sense, given his background, why he would consider this Paradise. As a fellow biracial person born without a silver spoon, I can relate to his struggle. So hearing him describe this planet called Paradise, I can see why it earned that name. But the beat change. I find it interesting that he switched the message behind his lyrics up. It changed to perseverance and strength to overcome haters and obstacles and doubt. It gives me this feeling of self-worth as I push through the negativity to achieve Paradise. Interesting that he decided to include this message after describing what Paradise looks like. Did he do this to highlight the struggle it would take to get there? The challenge? Saying how "Of those around me that down and pray on my demise/But it only makes it that much better when I rise" definitely encapsulates his ability to attain Paradise. I'm not sure, maybe he did so as proof that he finally reached the top.

15. Never Been

Years ago, I used to be a hater of Logic. I used to despise when people complimented or praised him. So this song about remaining positive and persevering while blocking out negative hits even harder. He battles with fears of being inadequate while projecting a message of not letting those fears control your life and potential success. Amazing message. Musically, the track is very solid. The sped up, high pitched vocals on the chorus and outro remind me of Kanye’s style, and the simple beat isn’t distracting emphasizes the introspective nature of the song.

"Talk all you want about me homie, I'mma let it live/Hater this, hater that, say I sound repetitive/ Hatin' in your blood, you was born to be negative" now THAT is how you diss someone. If someone said this to me, I'd just walk away because what do you say to that? I appreciate that he is able to both dis and praise in a song, yet not come off as cocky and arrogant and braggy. Listening to him, it truly sounds like he worked his ass off to achieve his fame, so hearing him brush off haters and telling me I can do it too actually makes me feel like he's right. This songs has an introspective vibe as he recounts his insecurities of failing, yet how he can't afford to "let the devil in."

16. Run It

“Run It” is another very good track on the album. The flow and beat were dope and simple yet effective and pleasing. I think this song’s placement was strange. After hard hitters like “Stainless”, “Paradise”, and “Never Been”, “Run it” feels underwhelming by comparison. I could see this after between “Like Woah” and the White People Skit. But this late into the album, this song’s tone sit right. Ultimately a great song though.

17. Lucidity

“Lucidity” gives good insight on the theme of the album. Thomas describes taking for granted people on Earth having dreams and wants instead of living to find paradise. I like the concept of one’s life and story being defined by pursuing what you want. Mostly a set up for the final song, it’s still a solid scene.

18. The Incredible True Story

This track can be defined by one word: epic. From the first half with Logic’s vocals and singing, encapsulating the whole question in this album “Who Am I?”. The instrumentation is beautiful. Then the second half with the crew landing on Paradise is so powerful and well constructed. As a listener, I feel like I’m there with the crew. You can feel everyone’s fear, nervousness, excitement, anticipation, and hope.

What. An. Ending. I had no idea how Logic was going to end this and he did not disappoint. His lyrics in the beginning. The sub-sequential inspirational message of following your desires. The 2 men as they get ready to land on Paradise. All of that was flawless. My favorite part was the music change as the female finished her countdown of the landing and it changed to this soft, exploring sound full of hope. Hearing the 2 men talk in wonder as the sounds of nature slowly encompassed the music before hearing the woman say "Life" literally made me so fucking emotional, I'm tearing up thinking about it.

Final Thoughts

The Incredible True Story is the embodiment of Logic as an artist. It is strengthened by being unsafe. Under Pressure felt like bowling with the rails up. You’re definitely gonna score, and you may hit a strike on your own, but it’s just not as good as bowling without safety rails. And yes, you may hit gutters (”I Am The Greatest”), but putting everything on the table and living/creating unrestrictedly allows you to reach highs in life/art you wouldn’t otherwise reach. And I think by allowing himself to create riskily and unhindered, he fulfilled his own theme.

As an avid bibliophile, I will tell you that most sequels are shit. But damn, this album was fucking amazing. I have been sleeping on Logic. Honestly, 12/10 ending. Logic wanted to leave a statement that he could still be one of the best even after his debut album and, trust me, he proved it. This ending alone proved that he knows how to do this shit. I feel like I just finished reading a great book. Who knew rap could be like this?

Top 3 Tracks:

1) City of Stars                      1) Stainless

2) Paradise                            2) Paradise

3) Innermission                      3) Incredible True Story

Overall Grade: A+

Album Link:

https://open.spotify.com/album/5dOpbgAmJeyoakKQ0QLWkR?si=bAQ0FEA4RMupkUEspycH1Q

[idkxwriting]

World Spins Madly On

Author: idkhaylijah

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader - Professor AU

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Endgame spoilers at some point - but the Russo brothers lifted the ban...so that’s more a courtesy ;) 

Also this is AU - so while it does take place after Infinity War, the time line does not follow Endgame - hopefully if you’re flexible you’ll enjoy it, idk!

A/N: So this is for @thatfanficstuff​‘s 1500 challenge. I couldn’t decide what to do, so Kat gave me the Professor AU. Everyone (including myself) kind of assumed I’d write it for Elijah - but I wanted to go out of my comfort zone a bit. I’ve never written Steve, but I adore him and also Professor Elijah has been done quite a few times (even though I love them all). Thought I’d switch it up a bit.  **Also sorry this is late - it’s been in my drafts but I haven’t had a chance to post yet!

He hadn’t intended on staying.

It had been weeks since the snap. Weeks since he had failed, since he watched his friends disappear right before his eyes.

And it hadn’t just been the battlefield.

The world had gone dark, quiet...empty.

Empty was exactly how he had felt. It was how they had all felt. There was no fixing it. No replacing what they had lost.

And they had lost everything.

But life went on, time moved forward, and just like he had done when they pulled him out of the ice, he kept moving. It was the only thing he knew how to do. If he stopped it all came crashing down around him, suffocating him, and he couldn’t afford that.

He hadn’t intended on staying. 

He had meant only to check in on her, make good on his promise, and move on.

Instead he had found himself watching her, entranced by the way she moved. His world had flipped on its axis once more, and for the first time in a long time he felt hope. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was about her, but he held onto it, and the idea of that hope being ripped away from him was too much.

He was so tired of loss.

So he had stayed. At first it had been for a few days, waiting for his moment, but then Nat called with an assignment.

“How do you feel about teaching?”

He was grateful for the distraction, though he was sure his skill set was being wasted on this mission. S.H.I.E.L.D. had fallen apart since the snap, agents struggling to rebuild without their commanding officers, and Captain America being a fugitive was the last thing on their mind, so he took it.

He knew Nat threw him a bone, giving him the opportunity for an easy assignment gathering intelligence. He was sure the position of interim history professor at the college where she attended as a senior was no coincidence. Nat was observant, and giving him a chance to do what he came to do. He didn’t fight it though, needing life to slow down, at least for a little while.

It was an easy get in, get out job - but she had walked through the door to his classroom and he was ruined.

And so a week’s intel mission turned into a month, which rolled into two. 

Two months in, and what was left of his team wasn’t pushing him, though they chatted weekly - if nothing else to remind each other they weren’t alone. The calls always ended the same, that there was nothing new, but they’d keep hoping.

And the more time he spent with her, the easier he found it to be hopeful. To keep moving. He let his mind wander to her, instead of the dust that haunted him. He thought of her eyes, the way the Y/E/C of her irises danced when the sun hit them just right. He thought of the blush that would creep up her neck, and he found himself wanting to know just how far down it went, feeling the guilt settle into his stomach like iron.

She was technically his student, and even if it was temporary, she was still so young. She would be graduating college in just a few months and had her whole life in front of her while he was so tired from the weight of it all. Even so, it didn’t change the fact that she-

“Professor Rogers?” A soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. He jerked his eyes up to his office door to find a girl he vaguely recognized from his class. She rapped her knuckles on the door frame as an afterthought, blushing furiously under his gaze.

He was not unfamiliar with the way women reacted to him, though he never seemed to get used to it. He swallowed, clearing his throat, trying to ignore the way she batted her lashes. “Yes, Miss….” he trailed off realizing he didn’t remember her name.

“Please,” she giggled. “Call me Allie.” She shifted further into the room, placing her books on the edge of his desk to reveal her tight shirt, leaning forward so her cleavage was on display.

He averted his gaze, busying himself with a stack of papers he was trying to get through. Paperwork, as it had turned out, was not his forte. “What can I do for you, Allie?” He asked politely.

She bit her lip, leaning further in until her perfume clouded the area, a sharp overly-floral scent filling his lungs and burning his nose. “I was just hoping for some one on one tutoring,” her lashes fluttered, and she pushed her arms together, accentuating her chest. “I could really use the help...Captain,” she added flirtatiously for good measure.

He stifled a cough, wondering if it would be too obvious if he stood to open a window and let the room air out. Deciding he’d wait, and he had faced worse, he smiled up at her. “Of course,” he quickly grabbed a pen and scribbled down some information on a pad of paper, tearing it off and handing it to her. “Tutoring is available on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the library, but you have to make an appointment, so be sure to check in with the librarian to see which tutors are available.”

Her face fell and she stood, straightening her shirt and taking the paper from his hands. “Right…” she mumbled, grabbing her books and storming out.

He leaned back in his chair, sighing in relief. Dodging bullets was something he knew.

“Ugh, open a window.”

He sat up, smiling at the familiarity of her voice washing over him. “Y/N,” he stood. “What are you doing here?”

She ignored his question, dropping her bag in an empty chair and crossing the small room to open a window. “Let me guess, Allie?”

He chuckled. “How did you know?”

“Please, the stench of her perfume can be followed all the way from the library,” she joked. “So she finally made her move, huh?”

He shrugged. “She was looking for tutoring.”

Y/N laughed at that, tucking her Y/H/C hair behind her ears. She cocked her head, studying him, and he was sure she could see everything - every inappropriate thought he had since meeting her, the guilt he felt at his ever growing feelings, the tiredness he felt at fighting them. He was sure just by her looking at him she had stripped his layers away and saw it all.

“Here in 2019, that’s called flirting,” she teased.

He nodded sarcastically. “Very funny,” he groaned as she once again pointed out their age difference.

She turned to look out the window, her face falling slightly. “I was just wondering if I could eat lunch in here?” She asked.

It wasn’t uncommon. He had become a mentor to her, which had blossomed quickly into an easy friendship. They often shared lunch, at first under the pretense of discussing history, which quickly turned into sharing their experience in the After.

He learned that she had lost her family and a boyfriend, and he shared about his failures. She was quick and confident in her reassurances that he was a hero, that he had done everything he could, and sometimes he even tried to believe her. He let her words sink into him, replaying them in his darkest moments when he’d wake and try to shake the memory of the dust away.

Their talks had started out weekly, which turned into two or three times a week. He cursed himself for never finding the right moment to tell her. He should have told her when he had seen her that first day, she deserved to know and he had made a promise.

But as time went on he found it more and more difficult, the words dying in his throat as new words tried to force their way out.

I want you. I need you.

This week she had been by every day. He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind her, leaning back to sit on his desk and crossing his arms. “It’s a little late for lunch,” he commented.

She shrugged. “Early dinner?”

God, just the thought of being able to take her to dinner was exhilarating. He wished he could ask her. “I’m sure you have something much better to do on a Friday night,” he said instead.

She laughed sadly at that. “Today would have been my dad’s birthday,” she explained. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

He stiffened at the mention of her father, swallowing thickly. “Y/N….”

She turned to him, her eyes glossy. “It’s okay,” she forced a smile. “I should get going. Have a nice night.”

She picked up her bag and rushed out of the room as he watched her go. Even after she was gone, he watched the space she had left, waiting for her to come back in. Wishing he could chase after her, knowing it was best to let her walk away.

He tried to work the rest of the day, his mind racing with thoughts of her. Deciding it was useless, he sighed heavily, packing his own things up and heading out for the night.

*****

He didn’t cook. It seemed pointless to cook when it was just him, and he was just so damn tired. He missed home. Missed Nat, missed Banner. He missed Thor.

Hell, he’d even take the racoon at this point.

He wandered the city streets, searching for a place to eat and resolving himself to ending his stint as a Professor first thing Monday morning.

He stepped into an Italian restaurant he had discovered the first week he was in town. It was a family owned hole-in-the-wall, quaint and homey.

The hostess greeted him with a sad smile. “Just one?” She asked. They had served a lot of tables for one recently.

He smiled tightly at her, but before he could answer his eye caught a table in the corner. “Actually, my party is already here, thank you,” he said before crossing the room.

“Y/N,” he greeted, drawing her attention from her menu.

She looked up, startled, her eyes red rimmed and glossy. She wiped underneath of them with the sleeve of her sweater, taking a deep breath and plastering on a smile. “Professor Rogers, hi,” her voice was laced with question.

He shrugged. “One of my favorite spots,” he offered. He gestured toward the chair across from her. “May I?”

She shifted in her seat. “Yeah, of course,” she nodded.

He took a seat and they sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, both unsure of what to say. Outside of the classroom or his office was unfamiliar territory.

The waitress brought wine and took their orders as the silence stretched on. Y/N picked at her napkin, shredding the edges into strips until it was almost gone.

He thought it was better to not acknowledge the fact that she had been crying, figuring the less he knew the less he’d want to pull her into his arms, but that didn’t last long. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

Her lip trembled and a tear fell down her cheek. He offered her his own napkin, which she smiled at before dabbing under her eyes. “I just miss them, you know?”

He nodded. He knew all too well. Without thinking he reached across the table, placing his hand on top of hers. He took in a deep breath at the contact, stilling as he felt the warmth of her delicate hand beneath his calloused fingers.

She froze for a moment and looked down at their hands, the pink tint he had come to adore crawling up the skin of her neck, but recovered quickly. “I'm sorry, I’m a mess,” she took a deep breath, pulling her hand out from under his and throwing her head back as she centered herself.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he reassured her.

She shook her head and when she tilted her chin back down she looked more relaxed. “Nope, no more crying for me tonight,” she chuckled. “So tell me, what big plans does a professor have on a Friday night?”

The laugh that escaped him was self deprecating and he ran his hand over his beard before throwing his arms up. “You’re looking at it, I guess.”

She made a show of wincing. “So sad and pathetic,” she teased.

“It is, isn't it?” He looked around at the empty restaurant.

She smiled at him, and his heart lifted, the weight of the world that rested on his shoulders a little easier to bear for a moment.

“Beats sitting in my apartment grading papers,” he offered.

She pressed her lips between her teeth, holding back her laughter.

“What?”

She shook her head in amusement. “Just the idea of Captain America grading papers,” she snickered. “It’s a little ridiculous when you actually stop and think about it.”

He smiled at that. “I feel ridiculous,” he admitted.

“Don’t, you’re an excellent history teacher.”

“Thank you,” he nodded.

“Of course it helps that you were there,” she jabbed.

He clutched his chest, feigning hurt. “Ouch!”

“Oh come on, big, strong Steve Rogers hurt by little ol’ me?”

He smirked, his eyes falling to his lap. He shouldn’t feel pride that she thought of him as big and strong, but how she saw him mattered - whether he wanted it to or not.

The waitress broke the moment, bringing their food out, which they were both quick to dive into. They made easy, light conversation, and Steve imagined it was exactly how a date would have gone.

It was the best non-date he had been on, and it was ending all too soon.

He offered to walk her back to her apartment under the guise of being a gentleman and making sure she got home safely, but if he were honest his motives were selfish. He just wanted to be in her atmosphere a little while longer.

When he got to her doorstep they lingered. He rocked on the heels of his feet, his hands in his pockets as her laughter trailed off.

“Thank you,” she said when she turned the key.

He smiled tenderly. “Of course,” he said. We’ll do this again, he wanted to promise.

She was about to head inside, when she caught him by surprise, turning and leaning up on her toes, throwing her arms around his neck. Before he could react her mouth was on his.

Her lips were soft and smooth - and so much better than he had imagined.

She pulled back just as quickly as she had kissed him, her hand moving to cover her mouth, her eyes wide in shock.

Steve stood, frozen on her doorstep. He wanted to open his mouth, to say something - anything. But he was so afraid he’d ask to come inside.

Or worse, he would tell her all the reasons it was a bad idea and she’d walk away.

Instead he stood there dumbstruck.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She gasped.

He shook his head, but before he could form a clear thought she disappeared with a promise to forget it ever happened and a slam of her door.

He wasn’t sure how long he lingered on her doorstep, but when he went home he dreamt not of a snap and the dust, but of her lips.

*****

Monday morning came, and Steve paced the classroom, waiting for the first class to come piling in.

Waiting for her.

She came in at the last second, her head down and made her way toward the back of her room, sinking into her seat and avoiding his gaze.

He did his best to conduct a lecture, but his mind was reeling, so instead he offered a pop quiz, letting students leave as soon as they were done.

Y/N was one of the last few to remain, her pencil working furiously over the page, her eyes darting to the clock. He knew she was trying to get out of there quickly, but she also cared about her grade.

He didn’t give a damn about the quiz.

She dropped her pencil, grabbing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder as she made her way toward his desk. She slipped her answer sheet wordlessly onto the pile, but before she could get out the door he called after her.

“Miss Y/L/N, I’d like to speak to you in my office, please.”

She froze on the spot, her eyes finally meeting his, and he recognized the fear that flitted across her features. “I have another class after this,” she explained.

He nodded. He knew her lunch hour was free. It was always free. Free for him. “I’ll see you at 12:30,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

*****

When she knocked on his door, it was so timid he almost didn’t hear it.

“Come in,” he said.

She stepped inside, careful to leave the door open, he noted. “Hi.”

He stood and stepped around his desk, taking a breath. “Close the door,” it was a question, not a command, and she pushed it closed gently.

She dropped her bag, her eyes holding a hint of anger. “Is it true?” She asked.

So she had heard.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back onto his desk, the answer in his eyes.

“So you’re leaving? Just like that?” Her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed, but the anger that they held faded quickly into hurt. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I don’t know what came over me. It was stupid and ridiculous and oh my god, so humiliating and I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…”

She crossed the room to him, just out of his reach, and he balled his hands into fists at his side, aching to touch her. “Please,” she begged. “Can we please just forget it ever happened.”

He slammed his eyes shut. He reminded himself of all the reasons he couldn’t have her, and shared the least of which. “Y/N, you’re my student.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or her.

“I know, and I take full responsibility. Please stay. Just forget it...”

“I can’t forget it!” He blurted, his ocean eyes crashing in waves as he finally met her gaze.

She froze, swallowing nervously, unsure of what it meant.

He sighed, taking a step closer. “I have to go,” he offered half heartedly, his gaze darkening.

She took a step towards him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. “Please stay.”

He shook his head, but advanced another step towards her.

She thought for a moment, as if realizing her next movement would change everything. A step away from him and she’d likely never see him again - but towards him…

She moved into him and he crashed his lips into hers, desperate to taste her. She reacted immediately, pushing up onto her tiptoes as he dipped down, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. His hands found her waist, squeezing there in a chivalrous attempt to keep them from roaming.

His tongue traced across her soft lips, begging for entrance and when she opened up to him he couldn’t help the groan that escaped.

She moaned in response, pressing her body into him. She ran her hands through his hair, as his own trailed up her sides until they rested along her face.

He pulled back as they gasped for air, and she relaxed into her stance, her heels finding the ground beneath her once more. “We shouldn’t,” he began.

But she had been done with thinking, so she kissed him to silence him, and he quickly got lost once more.

He turned them around, pushing her up onto the desk and gently nudging her legs apart so he could stand between them, pressing against her center.

Her hands rested along his chest and she ground her hips against him, shooting pleasure straight up his spine. He nipped, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth before tracing his tongue across it.

She pulled him into her, impossibly close, and he tugged at her waist, hating the barriers between them. His thumb traced just under her shirt. His rough, calloused fingers against the smooth skin of her sides sent shivers up her spine.

It wasn’t enough, and so she reached under his shirt, letting her soft hands dance along the muscle beneath them. She wrapped her legs around him, caging him in as she leaned back. Her Y/H/C hair fanned out along the papers that scattered his desk. He followed her movements, leaning down over her, knocking his desk lamp to the floor in the process.

He stilled his movements, the crash of the lamp pulling him back to reality and reminding him of exactly why he shouldn’t be doing this. He stood, distancing himself from her, an apology already on his lips as she sat up.

Her hair was a mess, her lips kiss swollen as she tugged her shirt back down. Her cheeks were tinged pink, and he wondered what he was doing.

But god was she was beautiful.

He averted his gaze and looked at their surroundings. He slammed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. She deserved better than being taken on a desk in a dusty, old office.

“Was it something I said?” She asked, an attempt to lighten the mood.

He smiled softly, dropping his hands and meeting her gaze. “Y/N, you’re my student,” he reminded her.

She nodded, hopping off the desk and sauntering towards him. “For the rest of the day.”

His jaw clenched, because she was right. He wasn’t staying, and even if he had, she would be graduating in the summer - but it didn’t matter.

She stepped into him, crowding his space and running her hands along his chest. His hands shot up to grip her wrists and still her movements, and he pressed his forehead against hers.

“I want you,” he confessed with a whisper. The words he had been holding in for weeks left and took the weight of them with it. He let out a shaky breath.

She smiled, pecking a kiss on the tip of his nose. “I want you, too, Professor Rogers,” she whispered.

He groaned. “Steve,” he corrected, leaning back to look her in the eyes. If they were going to do this he couldn’t handle any extra guilt, and he didn’t need to be reminded she was a student.

She beamed. “Steve,” she said, trying it out.

He liked the way his name rolled off her tongue - loved it. “God, I want you,” he said again.

She leaned up, eager to continue where they left off, but he stopped her.

“Not here,” he glanced around the room. “Not like this.”

Her lips formed an O and he wondered if she knew just how serious he was, what the weight of what they were doing meant.

He was all in, he had been from the moment he saw her, but that meant he had to tell her the truth.

“Have dinner with me,” he said before he could stop himself. “Tonight, at my place.”

She smiled shyly, the blush he was so eager to trace with his fingers returning, and she tucked her face into his chest.

He brushed her hair back from her face with his hands, tilting her chin up so she looked at him.

“Okay,” she said with a grin.

[pbandparker-archive]

mentis imperium

WHO: Peter Parker, Jihl Nabel, NOVA medical staff and agents WHEN: New Year’s weekend WHERE: NOVA base, New York City TRIGGERS: assault, drowning, electrocution, suffocation, mind control, death, torture SUMMARY: After the new year, Peter goes to NY to give Aunt May a long overdue visit. NOVA uses the trip as an opportune moment to catch themselves a spider.

NOTE: If there are any forgotten triggers to be added, please feel free to let us know and the proper edits will be made.

Jihl: A woman's scream broke the air around New York, she ran as fast as possible, shoving open the door to the roof of a skyscraper as a man, crowbar in hand, followed menacingly, corralling the young woman to the corner of the roof where she was forced to balance on the edge, "Help! Heeeeeeeeelp me! Somebody please!" she sobbed between screams as the man grew ever closer, the driving cards and people walking below utterly oblivious to her peril.

Peter: There really was no government agency, especially one so backwards as NOVA, that would keep Peter from wearing his suit and going out to help people in need. No amount of revealed identity would do that, either, but it did make superheroing a little more difficult. That being said, he couldn't ignore a cry for help, especially when he was able and willing. The woman could be heard from quite the distance and it took him no time at all to reach the building in question; the assailant had a crowbar. Good, he would be easily disarmed. This didn't look as if it would take too long, which was a relief, he thought, as he swung onto the scene (Aunt May would be relieved to see him on time for dinner, for once). His focus squared itself on the woman in peril and the man ready to bash her senseless.

Jihl: The woman continued to scream as she teetered on the edge of the building as the man swung his crowbar at her midriff and she jumped to the side, barely keeping her balance as she clawed at the ground, the man was about to finish her when Spider-Man appeared and he instead turned his attention to the hero, "Fucking freak!" he bellowed, charging and aiming a strike at his head.

Peter: People were predictable. They also tended to get angry if their plans fell through, which was exactly the emotion portrayed on the assaulter's face — the rage was palpable, but Peter paid it no mind as he quickly shot out a stream of webbing from his right shooter. It stuck to the crowbar, he pulled, and it flew out of the man's hand into his own. He ducked and swung the bar to trip the guy; before he fell to the floor of the concrete rooftop, Peter struck him with barely a bonk to the back of the head, knocking him out in one swift motion. Easy. It was easy. The crowbar left forgotten by the assailant's feet when he turned to the woman, "Are you alright, miss?"

Jihl: The man went down easily, completely outmatched by Peter's superior skills and lay unconscious on the roof while the woman heaved herself off the edge of the roof, "P-please, he's m-my husband." she begged, "I-I didn't, I d-didn't think I- ... I-Is he?" she asked, tears in her eyes as she gestured him to check on the still man unwilling to move any closer.

Peter: Husband. Peter looked from her to the man and sighed. "He's your husband?" He asked, unable to stop the repeated question from finding his vocal chords. "He's okay, still breathing. I just knocked him out... He might have a knot the size of a baseball, but he'll be okay. Do you have anywhere safe to stay right now?" Peter asked as he triple checked the guy's pulse, just to be sure and to put the woman at ease that her husband was indeed okay. This lady needed marriage counseling — or a divorce lawyer.

Jihl: While Peter spoke platitudes in regards to her 'marriage' the woman wasted no time and stepped forward, her heart still racing, adrenaline and fear pumping through her, she grabbed the crowbar from the floor and brought it down with a sharp crack across the top of Spider-Man's head. Dropping it immediately after and reaching to grab something from her pocket.

Peter: Okay, most people were predictable. This woman, however, was not. Peter couldn't tell what her motives were — he could only feel fear. No doubt due to his own tiredness and paranoia, his spider sense had failed him. He realized that the moment he felt the crowbar connect with the back of his head. The pain was immediate and he stumbled away from the body, just to its left and dropped to his palms and knees. One of his hands reached up to rub the now sore spot as he turned to look at the woman behind him; the clang from the crowbar hitting the ground rung out again. Questions sprung up, his mouth moving to open, hidden behind the mask; he wanted to question her, but he didn't get the chance.

Jihl: It wasn't enough, down but far from out she needed to act quickly. The woman succeeded in pulling a can of what looked like a kind of spray from her pocket and stepped forward, aiming it directly at the mask of Spider-Man's costume and pressed down. A small hissing noise filled the air as a transparent gas spewed from the nozzle aiming directly for the wounded hero's face.

Peter: The spray was something reminiscent of the Joker's laughing gas despite its colorless appearance, though it felt different than the stuff that clogged the airways of that horrid fun house. Peter coughed as he squeezed his eyes shut; he had made a move to distance himself between him and the woman, but he had already inhaled too much of whatever was in that can. His spider sense was on high alert now, so much so that he had a blinding headache — or maybe that was just the blow to the head. "Wh-why?" He asked when he was able, when he felt his coughing subside, and shot the can out of her hand in a feeble attempt to save himself. "What's in the can?" He urged, but he could already feel himself growing a little... funny.

Jihl: It was a simply spray, synthesized from the venom of a Venezuelan spider, ironically, to induce a paralysis that left the victim unable to move but utterly aware of what was going on around them, so while breathing and other internal functions would continue, outwardly Spider-Man would be a threat no longer. "To protect the world." the woman answered, still somewhat shaky from her ordeal but it was necessary, the threat had to be real or this one would've known, his freakish senses worked that way. "A gas." she told him, moving to her unconscious cohort and looking him over, he'd be fine. She grabbed a phone from his pocket and pressed and held the one key, the signal was now sent. "One to keep you still." she finally added, looking back at him.

Peter: "Protect-," he had to laugh; the sound came out wryly as he tried to stand. The tips of his toes tingled. Peter already knew what exactly was in that can, before she even had the nerve to tell him it was meant to keep him still. "You have a backwards way of doing that, lady," he offered as he stumbled and dropped back to his hands and knees. "You can't protect the world... Not like this. If you..." Once more he tried, and once more he fell — his legs gave out from under him. He would have run, would have swung off the side of the building if the gas hadn't worked so quickly to incapacitate him. "What do you want with me?"

Jihl: Seeing as he was already struggling to stand she saw little fear in taking a few steps closer to him, "You may think that way right now, but don't worry, all will be clear soon." She stopped before him and smiled, "You see, you have been chosen for a glorious purpose, you will help protect humanity moving forward and lead the way for others. Be grateful." She told him simply, crossing her arms as the sounds of footsteps could be heard coming from the still open door from the roof back down to the building.

Peter: What the heck was this lady going on about? "News flash, lady, I kind of already do that," Peter retorted, now unable to feel the remainder of his legs; he held himself up with his forearms, though he could feel the numbness start to creep up his back. Every inch of him was falling asleep. "D'you think I run around in tights for fun?" He was grasping now, trying to reach for an out even if his spider sense was glaring a 'dead end' kind of sign. "C'mon, can we work something out..." Peter offered when he heard the telltale sound of footsteps fast approaching. "If you let me go, I'll... I'll make sure you and Casanova over there get the help you need, just. Just rethink this... Please..."

Jihl: She smirked, "You do it when it suits you, all you heroes do that. I had a brother who believed in you and he died when New York was hit in an alien attack. So much for heroes then." she watched him struggle with no sympathy, "Please. You think I care? He's an ass and frankly he deserved this. NOVA have made me a good deal here, and all I had to do was endure one more beating." As she finished speaking the armed NOVA soldiers broke through the door, led by one man, though it was difficult to tell since they all wore helmets. "Richards, take Mrs Karson and her husband downstairs." One broke from the pack and hefted the unconscious man over his shoulder then jerked for the woman to follow, which she did. The leader stopped before Spiderman and tilted his head, "Normally we'd let the paralysis take its course but in case this goes sideways we can't have you knowing where you'll be taken. So we're gonna have to knock ya out Scum." he said, his slightly muffled voice still able to convey indifference, even hatred towards Peter.

Peter: "Not that it's going to make any difference to you," he didn't much have hope that his words could sway her mind, "but that's not who I am. I'm sorry about your brother... But I know the Avengers did their best... If it wasn't for them, maybe we'd all be dead, or worse." This sucked. This sucked the big one. While the soldiers invaded the rooftop, Peter tried his best to crawl away using only his hands; his arms had given out not too long before. When the woman left with her weirdo husband, Peter frowned at the man and his extended bravado. "You guys have to be, like, the nicest baddies ever. Never had anyone give me a play by play before. Seriously, so nice. I'll be sure to give you guys five stars on Yelp."

Jihl: Though it couldn’t be seen, the figure rose an eyebrow under the helmet with the others incessant rambling. Honestly, why the Colonel had selected him as one of their targets he’d never know; it can’t have been for his personality. Rather than say anything first, he simply took a step closer to the all but paralyzed would-be hero, swung his leg back and kicked him hard right in the gut. “You talk too much.” Followed after, “I’m telling you this since you’ll be doing the same when you help us achieve our goals.” He reached into a pouch at his belt and withdrew a small bottle and a cloth. “Now, let’s finish this.” Using his foot again, he kicked Peter over so he was lying on his back and stood over him, taking his time with unscrewing the bottle and wetting the cloth with its contents.

Peter: Despite being paralyzed, Peter could still feel everything, including that good morning kick to the gut. It stung and he definitely heard something crack - either that or just wishful thinking. "New recruits?" He parroted when he was turned over onto his back so he could look up at the man. "What do you people want with me...?" Peter asked as a million and one thoughts raced through his mind; there didn't really seem like an out right now. He had on his classic suit - there were no toys or gadgets hidden inside. It was just spandex. "Wait, are you using chloroform? How cliche."

Jihl: They'd been very selective about which poison they were going to use to capture these individuals; it needed to incapacitate them but leave them completely lucid at the same time, luckily, as their leader so often said, for every task there's a perfect tool. "You'll find out soon enough. But it won't matter. In the end you'll want to help us." he shrugged with the cloth in hand and bent at the knees to loom over Peter, "If it works. Now don't try anything stupid like holding your breath to fake it, you'll just waste all of our time." the muffled voice deadpanned and the soldier reached down and yanked Peter's mask off before pressing the cloth against his face.

Peter: Despite the warning, Peter couldn't help but retract when the cloth was brought to his face. He even tried to shake him off, but without the use of his body, it was hopeless. There was a last glance to the sky, hoping that there was someone, anyone, flying overhead. No such luck. A final instance of fear in his eyes passed over before they closed slowly as he drifted off. There really was no way out of this right now. He didn't have a tracker on him, he didn't have a hidden mic or secret weapon. He didn't have backup. He was alone.

Jihl: Honestly, it had all gone much better than expected. The Karson's were dealt with, a murder-suicide, tragic really, but no witnesses could go unchecked. Peter was brought to a secret NOVA facility on the outskirts of New York, he was stripped and clothed only in black boxers while unconscious before he was strapped into what appeared to be a large, tank-like structure surrounded by dozen's of beeping monitors. The lights were low, the computer screens providing most of it and before he was sealed into the tank Peter was once again injected with a milder version of the same paralytic drug, he'd be able to move, barely, nowhere near his full strength. Once all was set up, Jihl Nabel walked into the room and sat at the head of the control panel, waiting for the other to come too, it shouldn't be long now; then the true work could begin.

Peter: Peter felt like crap - and unfortunately, his body was still groggy, sluggish, incapacitated. He could breathe fine, which was a miracle considering the thick, tight straps holding him upright. His eyes were slow to open and his vision blurry; he groaned when he came to and tensed his muscles. He could feel the binds holding him down. Nope, didn't like this one bit.

Jihl: Jihl waited until she saw signs of life from the man, only then did she rise to her feet and walk towards him. “Mr Parker.” She greeted, “My name is Jihl Nabel. I’ll dispense with pleasantries and get right to the point. Your powers are too great to be left to you to handle. NOVA exists to keep the world safe and will do that with your help. Simply put this process you’re about to undergo will see equipped with the ability to perform necessary tasks on NOVA's behalf when the time comes.” She was blunt and to the point while she pressed several control buttons on the panel next to him.

Peter: Peter dipped his head back and watched her through barely open eyes. His hands clenched and he strained against the binds again, but to no avail. "Process?" He had to chuckle at the thought of it, "what are you gonna do, brain wash me?" It was a joke, but Peter really had no idea what they were planning. It did sound like brainwashing, though, and that only made him feel all the more nervous.

Jihl: “Yes.” She nodded after a short pause, “To a degree. It’s more akin to installing a sort of code in your brain that will be triggered by a specific set of code words which then overwrites your conscious desires in favour of the task you'll need to fulfill. Dr. Covington helped us perfect the serum behind it. Though, you see, it requires a deep erosion of the subjects strength of will do fully take effect; hence why you’re here.” She finished pressing buttons and looked up at him, “You’re going to be put through dozens of scenarios even your body won’t be able to cope with until eventually you’ll give in and the serum will have full access to your mind. Then you’ll be ours when we need you.”

Peter: When she confirmed just a silly, fleeting thought, Peter's smile fell and he pulled again, getting nowhere. There was an urgency now to get free, to get out and away from this woman. "No, no. You can't do this. This isn't... this isn't right. There's going to be a lot of people looking for me... when they find out what you're doing here..." He didn't know what to say, really. What was someone supposed to say to finding out they were about to be brainwashed? To be turned into a pawn? It's not like there any kind of stage directions. He wanted out. He didn't want to become a part of this. "You can't do this."

Jihl: “You see I’m afraid I can. Several powers and authorities higher than myself have given me permission. Even NOVA answers to the government Mr. Parker. The people who’re looking for you won’t worry, you’re already away visiting your dear aunt, yes? And you won't even be with us a full day. By the end of this you'll simply think you took a nap somewhere then go back about your business.” She pressed a final button and water began to bubble up into the tank, rushing past Peter’s shins, “This is but the first step of many but, it works very well. For all your strength you, like so many others, require air to function. We’ll kill you a few times this way and bring you back: the trauma will work well to erode your will.” She finished methodically, her face expressionless as the water rose to his waist.

Peter: His heartbeat thrummed steadily within his chest; he could hear it in his ears. They were going to brain wash him and use them as they saw fit. He strained again, hoping to break free, but his muscles still felt fatigued, loose, weak. He couldn't get out, even as the water continued to rise past his hips and around his belly. The water was cold and he gasped at every new inch of untouched skin it met. Kill him a few times? Kill him? Peter shook his head quickly, urgently, desperately, "You won't get away with this... you can't. How can you not see how wrong this is?"

Jihl: She sighed, “As I have already explained Mr. Parker I shall and already have. The government controls every aspect of its populace’s lives even if they do not think it so.” Jihl paused and added, “However that doesn’t mean we’re not in agreement. Frankly I’d rather this not be the case, humanity should defend itself not require freakish golems do it for them but, alas,” she spread her arms as the water reached Peter’s shoulders, “The decision is out of my hands.”

Peter: "Freakish golems?" Peter scoffed and shook his head again, "All we're doing is trying to help everyone. At least, I know I am. We're not monsters to be controlled... we want the same things," he urged, though he had a good feeling his words fell on deaf ears. Maybe it was stoic expression on her face, void of all emotion as the water continued to rise. It reached Peter's neck and tickled the underside of his chin.

Jihl: Jihl was quiet for several moments before she spoke, "That may well be true, Mr. Parker. But alas, it's not my place to question and frankly an uncontrollable animal can turn at any moment. There's no guarantee you may not turn on society when it suits you, as countless others have done." she told him as the water reached just up to cover his lips, "And much like a golem, I'd rather you lack the capacity to disobey when you must be used."

Peter: Unfortunately for her, the water kept Peter from giving her his two cents. But that also meant that panic would soon ensue the moment his body couldn't stand the lack of oxygen. It likely wouldn't be for a while; as easy as it would be just to drown and not have to deal with this, that was probably what she wanted. She had said 'a few times', which meant she wanted him broken. She wanted him weak so they could use him. He couldn't let that happen - Peter had to fight. His will had to be strong, otherwise, he was theirs and his power set was too strong to fall into the wrong hands. That was easier said done, as he could feel the first tickling of urgency after a good chunk of time. His body had been relatively still up until that point. Now, he started to squirm - toes and fingers clenched as dark brows furrowed down.

Jihl: It was something of a reprieve from his incessant self-proclamations as the water shut him up. From here it was just a matter of time. His body, bring so unnaturally strong, would likely take some time to succumb to the effects of oxygen starvation but, with repetition his overall strength would weaken; the body was easier to break than the mind, but when the former went the latter became all the more malleable. When she saw him begin to move, unable to help himself she finally spoke, "Two minutes already, Mr. Parker, your stamina really is quite remarkable."

Peter: Her words coaxed his eyes open; two minutes, was that all? Despite the start of a burn in his lungs, her compliment only steeled himself. He frowned and stilled his squirming, determined now to at least frustrate her.

Jihl: Well, she had to hand it to the man, Johnny Storm had been long gone by this point, but then stamina wasn't quite his forte. She checked her watch again after a period and raised her brow, "Four minutes." Then flicked her gaze back up to him.

Peter: This wasn't a competition, though Peter could hold his breath for much longer than that. Unfortunately, with a blow to the back of the head, a kick to the gut, and a weird, paralysis drug, he wasn't going to be able to showcase that. Not like that was his goal or anything. Peter had his head bowed down and hands clenched tight. His toes splayed out and his jaw tensed. All he wanted was to breathe, but he couldn't, not even as his lungs screamed desperately. They burned; a few air bubbles escaped from his mouth.

Jihl: She had to admit, her curiosity as to his stamina was peaked; if NOVA were forced to use the very thing they stood against in order to achieve their goals it couldn't be denied there was potential in spades. He was clearly struggling though it seemed was determined to stand against her to the end; a strong will, impressive. But like the sea eroded a little more of the shore each year so too could Mr. Parker's urge to resist them be beaten down to nothing with little more than water. "Six minutes." she said, shaking her head slightly, "I don't know if you've this kind of power usually or are just attempting to outlast my patience." Regardless, he wouldn't win.

Peter: At her words, Peter thrust his head back quickly. The distraction in movement was a nice reprieve from the ache in his chest, thought it only lasted a blip of time before he was aware of how painful this really was. His vision started to go; it went dark and black spots danced around the outside of his sight, threatening to blind him completely. The urge for opening his mouth and inhaling kept coming in shorter and shorter bursts until he couldn't take it anymore. Peter breathed, but the only thing that came was water. It was like a zap, like a jolt - it burned and the pain was excruciating and his mind rebelled against every inhale of water. It didn't take long for everything to go dark. Peter didn't feel anything anymore and, honestly? It was kind of nice. He'd fought for so long, through everything, and to simply rest felt good. As if it were something he'd wanted for a long time.

Jihl: She watched as, finally, the man gave into his body's needs and his mouth opened, body jerking as it received only water and no air. It wasn't until his jerking stilled that she looked at her watch, "Seven minutes two seconds." And hit a button to drain the tank, the water all but vanishing instantly. With a few more button pressed the glass slid down and three NOVA staff ran in; the slab Peter was attached to moved forward and tilted so he was horizontal and they immediately performed CPR, given his natural stamina she no doubt he'd be saved and less than a minute later he was spluttering and the slab was moved back into the place, the glass panel sliding up as though nothing had happened. "And again Mr. Parker." she signed, pressing buttons so water once more was pumped into the tank.

Peter: It felt like an eternity before he saw the light again - no, that wasn't right. Did he not die? He hadn't exactly expected them to be able to bring him back to the land of the living so easily; how long had he been out for, even? That discouraged Peter as the slab was situated back into a standing position and the tank was returned around him. Her words only served to upset him further even as he continued to choke up water. "D.. Don't I get, uh..." Peter coughed and pressed his head back; his next inhale earned himself another sputter. "Bathroom break?"

Jihl: She raised an eyebrow, "Still making jokes? Seems we've got a long way to go. Though if you are serious by all means go in the tank, it'll only get drained out after you die again." she crossed her arms and waited for the water to make it's way up, recalling his previous time and doubting he'd hit the same again. This alone had been enough to make Mr. Storm susceptible to their drug (even if it hadn't been perfected) but she wondered if it would be enough for Mr. Parker.

Peter: Peter had to chuckle at that; he supposed now he could understand why Wade and Bobby made jokes all the time. It made everything easier. It felt like it took half the time for the water to reach his chin this time, or maybe he was just too fatigued to have a solid grasp on time. Peter inhaled deeply just before the water passed his nose and eyes and forehead, but he hurt. His lungs hurt, his head hurt, his body hurt. He ached everywhere and there was no grace point in between. No second to catch his breath or take a nap and try again. That was the point.

Jihl: It was true, they did make it quicker the second go around, and it would be even faster the third, they didn't have time to waste eeking out what he knew was coming, that could be saved for their later attempts. "I wonder, Mr. Parker, if this time you'll bother to resist at all? There's little point considering the end is inevitable. Why not simply give in?" His body was being pushed to its limits, his mind would soon follow and in that came NOVA's victory.

Peter: Regardless of the muscle aches, he strained against his binds as he shook his head; he always had been defiant, especially towards authoritative figures; it was just his nature. This woman was no different. His head hung, chin to his chest as he tried to hold onto it. He didn't want to give in. He wanted to be better than that. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of breaking him.

Jihl: She sighed, honestly she'd not expected any different, "Very well, then we'll wait. And you will die again, for a time, and again, and again, as long as it takes." And when he was performing the task required of him this would all be work well done. "Three minutes." she told him idly.

Peter: Die again. He was just going to die again and again and again until he succumbed. He felt nothing short of hopeless, but that didn't mean he was going to just give up. Peter didn't do that. He couldn't. He couldn't let NOVA win so easily - he had to give them some kind of fight. Peter lifted his head and shook it, trying desperately to ignore the white hot pain in his lungs. Once more, he found himself giving in to the water.

Jihl: Second verse same as the first, though not even five minutes this time; his physical stamina was surely being worn down yet he remained defiant. Once she had him back in place, alive and the water rising past his waist again she spoke, "Do you understand yet? Mr. Parker? This will continue until I decide on a different method of pain or you submit your will to NOVA. We are here to protect the world for humans. Just accept this as a new stage in your life." It was the best a freak like him deserved.

Peter: Peter was tired. No, he was exhausted. His hair hung down, wet and sopping, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His vision was blurry and his shoulders slumped as he gasped for breath; the water moved faster now. He nearly whined when the water reached his chin again, but he inhaled once more. He was so tired, so very tired, but just laying down and taking this wasn't an option. He was sure his fingers were bruised from how tightly he clenched his fists and his feet stuck themselves in a cramp due to the clenching of his toes. Peter went again; his body convulsed as it took in water, spasming in its restraints. He died again and that likely wouldn't be the last.

Jihl: Not even two minutes this time. It was progress, and it would do. Now things could move onto the next step and she would see how they did. Of course her medical team easily revived the now exhausted Mr. Parker but this time rather than being put back into the tank she figured that his sopping wet form prepared him for their next stage. Keeping the slab horizontal she detached several small nodes that ended in suction cups and while the man struggled back to consciousness she attached them to his forehead, two on his chest, two on his abs, two on his thighs and two on his shins. "Mr. Parker, I believe this should serve to chase away the cobwebs." And with that she twisted a dial and sent a strong electrical current coursing through the nodes into Peter's body.

Peter: There were only bits and pieces from what he could remember during his removal from the tank. He became familiar with the slab, but the nodes that were attached to his wet skin felt foreign. He didn't have much time to think about it, however, until he felt a familiar jolt of electricity course through his body. Electro, Max, was still stronger by a long shot, but in his exhausted state, it seared. The scream that escaped him roused him back to consciousness, but he very much wished he was drowning instead. This pain was worse. It was so much worse.

Jihl: Jihl winced slightly at the noise of his scream, "Suffice to say you're awake. Though I don't think I care for that noise. Try to keep the screaming to a minimum would you." she gestured and her medical team entered, attaching a plastic drop of sorts into Peter's arm, the clear liquid from the bag entering his blood stream, "This is the drug that will overwrite your free will and make you useful to NOVA, Mr. Parker. In your current state it has a stronger chance to take full effect but as more of you is worn away its hold will only increase." she explained, giving him a few moments so that the truth could sink in before cranking up the electricity once more, this time at a stronger level.

Peter: Peter's mouth hung open as she continued to assault him with shocks, shocks that seemed eager to split him in two. He didn't feel the industrial strength needle break through his skin. His entire body tensed when she cranked it up; his back arched up off the slab as much as it was able as a string of pained sounds escaped him. They hadn't given him anything to bite down on, so his teeth and jaw hurt from the clenching, but she was relentless.

Jihl: "This will all stop soon, Mr. Parker. The drug will only take longer if you go against it every step of the way. Simply give way to it and this will end." She closed her eyes again for a moment and sighed, "Would you prefer if I just gagged you to muffle the noise? I've a press conference this evening and I'd rather not attend with a headache caused from your stubbornness."

Peter: A tear slipped of its own volition from the corner of his eye and roll down the side of his face and into his ear. His eyes rolled shut from the pain and constant stream of electricity.

Jihl: She rolled her eyes at the tear, "Really, Mr. Parker? Reduced to tears? I at least had respect for you despite my hatred before this began but now? Have some dignity." Honestly, this was who her superiors wanted as a living golem for NOVA? They could clearly defend themselves against him, she could kill him right now and save the world the trouble. Her anger at the situation was enough to have her cranking up the voltage even higher for the next round of electrocution.

Peter: The tears hadn't been a part of the plan, but he didn't have much of a say in how his body reacted to the raised voltage. It seemed to be too much, then, as his body gave up from having fought to keep himself awake for so long. He hadn't realized he'd truly passed out until he woke up still in the middle of being electrocuted. His nose felt wet - so did his ears. Blood. His throat felt raw from the screaming, but the pain continued even through the hoarseness of his voice until the sounds ceased to come out of him.

Jihl: Well, honestly that may have been enough. He was a crying mess and the drug was all but fully pumping through his bloodstream. Now it was likely a matter of waiting and he'd soon be theirs. "Well, Mr. Parker, you wouldn't be my choice of soldier, pathetic as you are, but my superior wants you so here we are. Can you feel it yet? Under all that pain the power of NOVA? Give in to it, and this will end; that's all you need to do. You want to obey me now, don't you?"

Peter: Peter's brows knitted together in response. Good, he wasn't the soldier she wanted, so he found whatever voice that remained and screamed again - he knew the sound annoyed her, he knew it grated on her nerves. It was the least he could do. But, on another note, he could feel what she was talking about. Under all the pain he could feel... it wasn't necessarily power like she spoke of, but more of an obedience. Yes, he did want to obey her, but god, he couldn't.  He wouldn't.

Jihl: She huffed a sigh and walked a few paces away, returning moments later with simple duct tape because like hell if she was going to get a headache from this one's yelling. Without pause she ripped a large piece of and slammed his head against the slab before pressing the tape over his mouth, "If you're going to act like a fool I'll treat you like one." she murmured, giving him another shock simply because she could, "Give it time Mr. Parker, not too much longer I shouldn't think. You'll break, and the first thing you'll do is thank me for how much I've helped you."

Peter: Peter grunted when she smashed his head down against the metal slab and slapped a stretch of duct tape over his mouth. He screamed behind the tape as another tear slipped down his cheek - he hated how easy it was to make him cry. Once the shock was over, Peter lolled his head to the side, eyes heavy and lips bloodied and dry. Sure, giving in would be so easy, and for a split second, he felt himself going. He felt himself give in to the drug; a blanket of ease seemed to pass over him before his eyes squeezed shut. He couldn't  - he almost fell over. He almost succumbed to it. God, he had to be stronger than that.

Jihl: She watched him appear calm, too calm all things considered following his intense shock but sadly it didn't last and he continued to resist. But, it wouldn't be much longer now, the serum would win out, Dr. Covington and NOVA's science wouldn't fail. "It felt good, Mr. Parker, you know it did, you can feel that calmness for the rest of your life if you simply give in." Honestly, the shocks probably weren't needed anymore but with him gagged the yelling was manageable, so she cranked it up again.

Peter: Peter's eyes shut tight again when she raised it even more. He passed out, though when he finally came to, his screams dropped down to muffled groans; that calmness eased itself over him despite the pain and hurried breathing. His hands released their clenched fists, though one of his index fingers scratched at the slab beneath. The blanket smothered him, pressing itself into him, into every nook and cranny that was available despite his mental urges for it not to.

Jihl: Though her expression remained impassive Jihl felt some sense of triumph when the other's pain filtered down and he seemed to relax to a larger degree. She stepped closer and with not preamble yanked the gag from his mouth in one movement, "There. You feel it now correct? You're slipping away, soon it will be over, no need to resist, Mr. Parker."

Peter: The removal of the tape was abrupt and painful, but it felt good to have his mouth free again. He did feel it, and yeah, it felt good. But it felt too easy, too good. Peter sighed; he had mulled over whether he should just give in to it or not a few times before he settled on chuckling softly to himself. His heavy lidded eyes turned to look up at Jihl and he smiled, the expression weak and barely there. Blood caked the inside of his nose and ears and it stuck between his teeth. "Screw you, lady..." he whispered.

Jihl: She narrowed her gaze at him but otherwise didn't seem to react until she methodically pulled off another piece of tape and slapped it over his mouth, then cut off another piece, pinched his nose and sealed it shut to suffocate him, honestly it seemed the serum made more progress when he was barely conscious anyway, "Hold that nasty thought." she told him quietly. And once he was in her thrall the little bastard would be apologizing immediately for his disrespect.

Peter: The tape wasn't much of a surprise, but when she placed a piece of tape over his nose, he just let it happen. There wasn't much to panic over - suffocation had been done before. He felt the familiar burn when his body realized he couldn't breathe, couldn't take in oxygen. As his consciousness slipped away, he could feel more and more of the drug hit him. He felt light, angry, yet calm, and as much as he internally screamed at himself to not give in, to fight, he didn't want to. Peter gave in to it just as he passed out.

Jihl: Honestly she was beginning to suspect this was the simplest method of attaining their goals; too many of these freaks were just ridiculously impervious to traditional methods but they still needed oxygen to function. When his struggles gave in she ripped the tape off and once more the medical team worked to revive him. "I suppose by this point I'd have broken a few of your bones but you're simply too strong for that; this method works best. Each time you come back you're more overcome, it won't be long now."

Peter: Jihl's words came in a little muffled when he came to. Blood stuck itself to the inside of his ears; he supposed that could be the culprit. Swallowing proved to be difficult - between the drowning and excessive electrocution, his throat was raw. Dry mouth was a pain and so was the rest of his body. Honestly, he was a little surprised he hadn't peed his underwear yet. Peter was too proud to admit this, but the first few times he had ever been electrocuted, he peed himself. Not this time, however, perhaps his focus on will helped him out a little. Not like that mattered; Peter felt himself slip away, anyway. He was tired, so very tired. Too tired to keep up the fight. He felt a disappointment in himself, but she had put him through the ringer. He had died more times than he likely would in his life - and he had initially hoped that would only be once. It was natural that he was too exhausted, he tried to rationalize with himself. He was worked too hard, and now he needed a rest. Peter felt another tear slip down the side of his face as an ease smoothed over the pain and worry in his eyes. "... I obey," came his breath. The light in his gaze seemed to dim, as if it too was too tired to keep going.

Jihl: She was prepared to go over this as many times as needed, frankly the work was degrading and she believed humanity could damn well look after itself, but no. Instead they were supposed to use these people to do it for them. It went against the principles she believed in but what could be done? Her Superior knew better than she and Jihl had followed him almost all her life, there was nothing else to be done. She let out a slow breath when the other's spoke, it seemed they were finally getting to the end oh this drawn out irritation. "Good." she pressed a few more buttons and the medic team returned, removing the needle from his arm and readying another. Out of curiosity to see how progress she spoke, "Un-cuff him." And without hesitation Peter was released of his bindings, "Offer your arm to the medics Mr. Parker, we're giving you a second dose to ensure your complete cooperation."

Peter: It was nice to be uncuffed, but his body hurt terribly. Right now, all he wanted was to rest, to sleep this off until his accelerated healing kicked in and did its job. Peter licked his cracked lips and tasted the blood there - her command had his eyes drawn to her and then to the medic to his other side, the one that was going to stick him with a new bag of... drug. A brain washing drug. Peter felt the need to comply, to obey, but he couldn't bring himself to put his arm out. All he could do was look at the needle - despite the drug taking over, he could still feel himself fight. It made him pause. "I...." He looked from the needle to his arm and then back to the needle, "I... can't." He wanted to, and his arm flinched forward, just slightly. Just enough to be noticed. "No... n... no. I can't," he urged and tried to sit up quickly, which only elicited a sting that spread through his whole body. He winced and cried out in pain, but damn it, he tried.

Jihl: The medic's made to back off as he began to resist but Jihl merely narrowed her eyes and raised a hand, "Hold." he told them, and they remained. "You're only hurting yourself Mr. Parker. Once you accept the next dose you'll be able to rest and from there likely heal these wounds in a few hours." Yet one more way his freakishness manifest. "Hold. Your. Arm. Out." she told him clearly and slowly, eyes looking him over lazily.

Peter: Peter dropped the back of his head to the slab and sighed. His eyes felt heavy and his head pounded; his chest burned and everything hurt. Part of him wished he were dead. Without his say so, at least consciously, he shakily held his arm out for the new needle - and the new bag. He looked on with fear, yet his mouth set in a firm line and jaw clenched.

Jihl: She nodded when he complied, "That's better." Though fight was still there, it could be seen in his eyes and any show of free will couldn't be allowed to remain, not if the safety of humanity was to endure. With a gesture her medic injected the next needle and hooked up the bag, this serum would piggyback of the first and course through him all the more quickly. "You tried, Mr. Parker, but as expected, it wasn't enough. NOVA thanks you for your soon to come cooperation."

Peter: The prick of the needle felt like nothing - he was too weak and too numb. Everything hurt too much. Now, all he wanted to do was pull the needle out and run, but once the drug entered his blood stream again, the will of his arm died. He couldn't bring himself to lift it. Nor could he bring himself to say anything witty - all he could do was close his eyes. This wasn't how he wanted to spend a Saturday.

Jihl: Jihl left the medics to do their work. It would be easy now, he wouldn't resist any further. "Give him a third infusion, just for added safety," she instructed them, "I'll check on him in a few hours when he's more healed." she had other subjects to continue this work with, frankly it was one of the few things she'd rather not leave her underlings to do alone, just in case. She planned for them to redress and move the drugged up Spider-Man to a NOVA training room to finish this exercise. With his suit on he'd be placed inside with half a dozen of her better soldiers and this would be a final test to ensure their drug and its affects had taken. Jihl moved to a room just beyond the training area, a large reinforced window with a sound system in front of her to enable communication it the other space. "Gentlemen, do you hear me?" she spoke into the microphone, her men all confirming with nods.

Peter: This was a bad time, indeed. He’d been beaten to a pulp, so black and blue and swollen that his face was unrecognizable. He’d been drowned, electrocuted, stabbed, shot, blackmailed, tortured, and just plain broken. He’d never been brainwashed, though; he didn’t know what it would be like. He was under the impression that he wouldn’t feel anything, or he wouldn’t notice. Right now he still felt like himself, even as they pumped him with another dose of whatever psychosomatic drug they’d cooked up. That likely would change. He was moved, then, from the torture chamber they had him in to a different room, one where there were already people inside. From the looks of their gear, they looked like agents, grunt men. Peter could only catch snippets of his surroundings as his body continued to heal, though he could feel his resolve slip as their drug coursed through his veins. He could hear her voice, could feel the heartbeats of everyone else in the room and the way they each nodded in affirmation.

Jihl: There wasn’t much left to be done. All being well the programming should have taken effect and at the use of the trigger words he would fall into the state they required of him and have no memory of what he’d done or even of the facility and his experiences here. With her soldiers giving her the go ahead and Mr. Parker still unresponsive Jihl stepped closer to the microphone, eyes on the freakish man and waited a few moments. She opened her mouth and spoke, calmly and clearly into the microphone once again. “Emeritus acquisition.” It was a string of words he’d be very unlikely to hear as he went back about his life but some she could easily work into a NOVA speech for him to overhear down the line. They should take effect immediately so she lent back and observed, waiting to see if their efforts had born fruit.

Peter: There wasn’t much to Peter’s thoughts as he lay limply on — well, he wasn’t really too sure what they had put him on. Judging from the look of the lab they tortured him in, it likely would be a cold slab. People like them tended not to focus on pleasantries or comfort, so he wouldn’t put it past them to just stick him on some frigid hunk of metal without a second thought. They did drown him, after all. When her words filtered out into the room and snaked its way around the other agents in the room, Peter felt them start to fade into the distance. The people, the words, everything. There was nothing but darkness, an emptiness that struck him, that washed away any coherent thoughts that threatened to break whatever facade NOVA had created for him. He couldn’t fight it. It was as if a switch had been toggled somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, prompting him forward and off of the poor excuse for a bed. He could feel his body move onto his feet, but after that? He waned out, drifting slowly into a sea of inky blackness, falling backwards until he was swathed in nothing but a cold warmth. It cradled him, nearly affectionately. Peter moved, but without his say so, and quickly incapacitated the agents situated around him. They each fell to the ground heavily during their turn, his punches hitting hard enough to splinter bone. The sound of his knuckles connecting with their bodies had been palpable. Still locked in, Peter stood in the center of the fallen group and slowed his breathing back to a respectable pace, eyes staring and unwavering, though hollow as he waited for more.

Jihl: Jihl had been told this would work, properly this time around. They’d worked this process on Johnny Storm some time ago and while they’d had some initial success they agent they’d send to speak his trigger word close enough for the man to hear had returned with no success. The programming had faded. Though the failure had provided their scientists with the information they needed to ensure the programming would last now. She watched as his body tensed, seeming to become perfectly still, before the sprung (quite literally) into battle. Her agents were skilled, not her best (she wouldn’t risk them to this freaks mindless assault… yet) but they should have been able to hold their own. As it was, Mr. Parker was like a man possessed and flipped around, downing her men with brutal efficiency until they were lying motionless on the floor. Not dead (yet anyway, though none of those wounds looked lift threatening) and he moved back to the centre of the room, breathing heavily from his exertion. Jihl looked over to her chief scientist who, despite attempting to look calm had eyes shining with her success. “Good work.” She told the other. “Can we move him like this?“ ‘So long as he doesn’t see anyone in NOVA agent armour he won’t attack. I’ve had all agents evacuate the halls. Set him free from the programming and he won’t remember any of this.’ she informed Jihl. “Good. Then lets set our little weapon free.” Jihl took off her jacket and pass, leaving her in pants and a blouse, no marking to identify her as NOVA from sight alone, and stepped into the room. “Mr. Parker, follow me.” she ordered, beckoning with her hand and walking from the room, expecting him to follow.

Peter: Again, there was nothing but blackness. Nothing but a void of emptiness in the vastness of space. Peter didn't even know who he was anymore. He could only stare, straight ahead, and rolled his shoulders. He tensed when the door opened, ready to attack again, but there was no indication that she hailed with NOVA, so he eased down. He hesitated at her gesture, but he had no reason to doubt her, to question, so he followed her silently out the door. Her face was familiar to him, but he wasn't sure if it meant she was a friend or a foe.

Jihl: This part was easy. Honestly Jihl preferred the little irritant like this. Having been prepared all corridors they moved through were free of any agents in NOVA dress so nothing would set off the now functioning programming in Peter's mind. She gave him some civilian clothes, told him to dress to hide his suit, walked him out of the building (disguised in the city of course) and handed him off to another agent in civilian dress. "You know what to do." The agent nodded, 'this way Mr. Parker' They said voice soft and kind, deliberately none threatening as they led him several blocks away, into an office building and up to the roof. They walked him out onto the open space and asked him to remove the civilian clothes then hand them back. Lastly, they put his mask on for him and made their way back towards the door. Just before walking through they clearly spoke "Emeritus acquisition." Knowing it would take a few moments for him to 'reset' and give them time to close the door and walk back into the office. Spider-Man would awaken as though nothing had happened.

Peter: The journey to the drop off location had been forgotten. The climb to the roof had been forgotten. Changing out of the clothing they had provided for him had been forgotten. Once those trigger words were uttered, everything that Peter had just experienced - the kidnapping, the torture, the conditioning - would be forgotten until they needed him again. When the words were spoken Peter blacked out and dropped to the floor of the rooftop, clad once more in his suit. By the time he'd wake up the sun would have already set. He'd be on the way to Aunt May, and apologize for the absence. She'd chalk it up to superheroing and give him a lecture on being careful. And about returning her calls. He'd chalk it up to nothing - he had no answer, no guess, not even a fragment of an idea as to how he lost a whole day. He just couldn't remember.

[pb1138]

A Reunion, Ch.2

Apparently this is turning into a multi-chapter fic. Don’t worry!! I already have an ending in mind. It’s just getting from now to there that’s going to be the problem.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Cassandra’s understanding of Varric’s situation wasn’t enough to truly wane her anger for long. She regretted the way she behaved towards Varric, attacking him as she had. Even more so after the Inquisitor got involved and scolded her like a child. Regardless, she stands by what she said—if Hawke had been here from the start, things could be going much better. But she begrudgingly could see his side, that if she had been here from the start, she could’ve died in the Conclave, too. What a mess. 

It’s because of this doubt, of the regret over her actions that she found herself outside the Great Hall that night. Normally, she didn’t go beyond the courtyard, avoiding the fancy prats as much as she could. She fidgeted for a moment, wondering if she shouldn’t just go back to the armory and leave well enough alone.

No.

She had to do this, had to understand. With a heavy sigh, she dropped her shoulders and stepped through the giant doors, rubbing her hands together nervously.

They were sat at a table near the fireplace, their shoulders touching, several empty tankards of ale sat in front of them. A few people had gathered around the table to listen to their tales, including Sera and The Iron Bull. Up above, Cassandra was surprised to see Dorian and Vivienne had also taken a seat to listen, and Cole was sat in a corner out of the way, obviously paying them great heed. He seemed…oddly pleased, a cryptic smile spread across his face. She wandered over to him despite the niggling warning in her gut telling her to avoid him, and she cleared her throat. “I see the Champion has settled in.”

Cole nodded his giant hat. “He’s happier now. All glitters and stars and warmth, like the comfort of a hearth at night. Her hands touch his and it feels like the sun, warm and welcoming and wondrous. He’s whole, now, complete, the piece that was missing before finally returned, and it’s as though she was never gone.”

Cassandra regarded the spirit out of the corner of her eye before turning to look at the couple. She could see what he was talking about. There was a light in Varric’s eyes that she’d not seen there before. He was smiling wider and with more feeling, and even in his gesticulations he always remained touching a part of her.

Her.

It occurred to Cassandra she’d never seen Hawke before, not personally, and certainly not this close. It wasn’t difficult to see that she was a truly beautiful woman, every bit as amazing and out of this world as Varric made her out to be in his books and tall tales. Underneath long, curled maroon hair sat two large eyes, so lightly blue that they almost seemed clear. Her thick pink lips were stretched wide in a laugh from something Varric said, and a dusting of dark freckles and a light blush were set across her cheek and her once-broken nose. She was elegant, every bit the regal lady Cassandra had pictured in her mind, with good but easy posture. 

Cassandra didn’t even know the woman and she was practically in love.

Varric noticed her lurking, and his expression darkened almost immediately. He was quick to slap his crowd-pleasing face back on and made some lame excuse about the lateness of the hour and how “he needs his beauty rest.” Many of the on-lookers groaned. Bull positively looked as if he’d just lost an arm and been struck across the face in one fell swoop. Everyone drifted away, and Varric stood, his hand resting on Hawke’s shoulder for a moment before he walked over.

“Seeker.”

She looked down at him, then back at where Hawke sat watching warily. Though she didn’t have her staff, Cassandra could feel the energy coming off of her, ready to defend Varric if need be. Cassandra cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak, but struggled to find the words. “I. Uh. Well.” She sighed, rubbing her face. “I…wanted to…apologize. I was…harsh this afternoon.” Varric snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “It’s just… No. There’s no excuse. I am sorry for my behavior.”

He regarded her a moment then glanced at Cole who tipped his hat in a nod and vanished. “I won’t say I forgive you, but I’m listening. You obviously want something.”

She looked back up at Hawke then back down at him. “I know I have no right to ask this but... I would like the real story. Not as a Seeker but…as a friend.”

His expression softened slightly, but he paused a long moment, contemplating her words. After a torturous amount of time, he gestured towards the table and moved back to his seat. She couldn’t help but notice the way he moved forward as if to guard Hawke from her. It was endearing, really. 

“What do you want to know?” A feeling of déjà vu spread across her, promptly followed by guilt. It occurred to her she might have been the cause of their separation.

“Everything.”

He smiled then, soft but true. “Well then.” He turned back to Hawke and took her hand in his, relaxing at her soft smile. “It all started 8 years ago.”

Xxx 8 Years Ago xxX

Varric first heard of the Hawke siblings not long after they joined Athenril’s gang. He didn’t think much of it at the time, just a few more refugees being taken advantage of, nothing special.

And then Belladonna started making a name for herself. She was better a smuggler than most rogues, especially with Aveline’s and Carver’s added backbone. Within weeks, she’d gone from being Athenril’s lowly errand runner to damn near a partner, rather rare for Athenril. Her skill did nothing to shorten her servitude, though. 

Once her year was up, Varric isn’t ashamed to say he had been following her exploits a little more closely. He knew she’d be looking for work, and something told him she’d find her way to Bartand’s ugly mug after they went public with their expedition. Good. She’d be quite the asset to them. 

It was an unusually warm day in Kirkwall, the day he met her. He couldn’t have planned the meeting better if he’d orchestrated it himself. He’d been on his way to see Bartrand with a few names of interest, but then the pickpocket had come along, and it was as if Andraste herself were smiling upon him. With one expertly placed arrow, he valiantly took down the idiot and retrieved the coin, a smug grin spread across his face. But when he turned to give it to her, he almost lost his footing. Almost. The fact that he didn’t stutter or fall over his words was a Maker-given miracle. He jokes that all humans look alike, but he never really thought that. Sure, looking up from his height, a few features can get a little muddled, a little repetitive, but her? Maker, she was something else. Even in her hideous smugglers’ robes, she took his breath away. He faked through it, though, putting on the charm he’d spent years cultivating. It was easy enough, sliding the mask back into place. A small part of him was relieved he tossed her the coin so easily and that he didn’t drop the arrow as he twirled it back into its quiver. He was speaking words, an introduction, flashy most likely, but he had a hard time focusing on anything other than her eyes. They were bluer than the Amaranthine Sea and seemed to see right through his guise. Could she see through it? Maker’s breath, he hoped not.

He was surprised to find just how charming and witty she was. Many of her sharp retorts were enough to rival even his own quick wit. They often fell into seemingly endless streams of snarky comments that made those around them groan with exasperation.

Everything about this woman both confounded and enthralled him. In the few short weeks he’d known her, he’d already come to think of her as a friend. She was kind but harsh (particularly towards her brother who was quick to respond with stronger hostility, something to unpack for later,) hardened but not hopeless, smart but naïve, and most of all, she was generous. Despite their time limit and the lengths they were going to to earn the gold to sway Bartrand, she never turned down a plea for help. Andraste’s ass, she’d given a full 5 sovreign’s to Lirene’s charity box the moment she knew what it was there for. As pressed for time as they were, Varric couldn’t help but admire this quality in her. Sure, she was setting back hours, days of hard work, but that only seemed to make it more meaningful. She was funny, too. He hadn’t laughed so much around other people since the good old days when Bianca was still kicking around. Varric had been so prepared to hate this woman, to find her snotty and rude and unlikeable, but in almost no time at all he’d come to be unable to imagine his life without her in it. What had he done before Belladonna Hawke?

xxx

They were almost ready to leave for the Deep Roads. They’d collected a few new friends—Broody, Daisy, Rivaini, even the mysterious Blondie had thrown his hat in with them. They were all gathered at the Inn, laughing over one of Isabela’s stories, and as Varric looked around at his new friends he couldn’t help but feel as though he might call these people family someday. Someday? Who was he kidding? They already were. At least better family than Bartrand ever was. 

Something in the glow of the candles seemed to light Hawke’s hair on fire, and when she caught his eye from across the table, her whole body shaking with laughter, the shear brilliance of her eyes seemed to knock the air out of him. He prayed with all his might that no one noticed how quickly his laughter died out.

“So, Hawke, do you think we’re ready to approach Bartrand?” Broody set his chin on his hand, looking at her with a carefully masked interest.

Most everyone tuned in to the conversation as Daisy went to fetch more drinks for the table. Hawke cleared her throat and smiled slightly, shaking her head. “No, there’s one more thing Carver and I have to do before we can leave.”

Junior peaked up from his slouch in the corner, a raised eyebrow pointed at his sister. “We do?”

She rolled her eyes and said a soft word of thanks to Daisy as she took the newly filled flagon. “The will, stupid. I know, I know.” She turned towards him and put her hand up, silencing the boy. “You don’t care about the estate. But Mother does. She’ll need something to focus on while we’re away so she doesn’t run herself ragged with worry.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her as he took a flagon from Daisy. He downed a good half of it before slamming it back down and glowering at the elder Hawke. “By all means. You’re the boss.”

Varric and Fenris both seemed to catch the hostility in Carver’s voice. They caught each other’s eyes from across the table, and Varric was relieved to see that Fenris seemed as bothered by it as he was. Hawke seemed to ignore it, aside from a quick glare that Varric almost missed. Instead, she just turned back to her friends and smiled sweetly. “Fenris, Varric, would you mind accompanying us?” She smirked at Fenris. “Carver tells me the estate is filled with slavers.”

Fenris smirked but nodded silently, and Varric grinned. She didn’t need to ask at this point—he’d never turned her down, not that he’d ever want to in the first place. “Bianca and I are at your beck and call, messere.” He tipped his head dramatically, and a deep part of him was thrilled by the soft giggle that his actions elicited from her.

The others began to drift away, heading back to their respective homes for the evening, until it was just Hawke and him. Something was on her mind, but for whatever reason she seemed to not want to bring it up. He wasn’t going to force the issue, but he turned to face her openly so that she might know that he was there for her if she needed him. They were several flagons and a few stories deep when she finally sighed, rubbing at her eyes. “Varric.”

He looked up at her, quirking an eyebrow. “Mm?”

Her words were thick with drink, and she swayed slightly in her seat. When she looked up at him, her mask had fallen away, showing him just how concerned she was. “I’m…Well, I’m worried. About what we’ll find. At the estate.” She narrowed her eyes in what Varric was sure was an attempt at anger. “I just know Gamlen screwed my mother out of her money. I just know it. But Carver doesn’t. For whatever Andraste-cursed reason, he likes that bastard.” Her knuckles were white around the handle on her mug. “Worse still, what if we find nothing? What if we find we truly have no claim to the estate and then we don’t find enough in the Deep Roads to buy our way to nobility? What if we’re stuck in that hovel for the rest of our lives?”

Varric reached across the table and covered her hand with his own, offering her a soft smile. “You won’t be. I swear it.”

She scoffed. “And how could you know that? What? Would you marry me, offer me your wealth and a status as the wife of a deshyr?”

He chuckled, though a part of him fluttered at the thought. “Not my first choice, but always an option.” He grinned at her giggle. “No matter what happens, whether we find thousands of sovreigns’ worth of crap, we find the deed to your estate, whatever, you’re my friend, Bells. And I take care of my friends.”

Her eyes misted over with tears before she brushed them away. She put her other hand over his and gripped it tightly. “Thank you, Varric.” Then, as if the gravity of their discussion was too much for her, “I’ve wanted a nickname from you for ages now.”

They’d laughed, spent another hour or so drinking themselves under, telling stories, speculating on their venture-to-be before Hawke began to yawn. Varric, ever the gentleman, insisted she allow him to escort her home. He’d had twice as much as her to drink, but he was barely buzzed whereas she was practically stumbling over every step. As they reached Gamlen’s “house,” she leaned against the door and stared down at him, eyes oddly focused. She looked as if she were going to say something but thought better of it. In one quick sweep, she leaned down and pressed a soft-but-sloppy kiss to his cheek. She straightened up and smiled as she opened the door and slipped backwards inside.

Maker’s breath.

[shipmistress9]

You could stay

Another one-shot I wrote, set between ‘Blindsided’ and ‘Shell Shocked’.

This story was a chance for me to get another bit of my personal headcanon down. And I want to explain that one before we get started here, lest I get too many angry comments on how they behave totally out of character… We all know Astrid to be the fearless warrior, never afraid of anything and we also know Hiccup to be more cautious, sometimes even shy and awkward. But I believe that, when it comes to their intimate relationship, their roles are reversed.

Astrid never was good when it came to social interactions, not when they were meaningful and important. She wouldn’t even open up to Heather when it comes to her feelings.

Hiccup, on the other hand, gets far more secure when he knows something is important. He then is able to scramble up every bit of confidence needed.

So, yes, I believe that when it comes to intimacy, Astrid is the shy one, as it is hard for her to open up, while Hiccup takes the lead, as he’s used to acting despite his feelings for her by now.

“…and then, hopefully, we can confront Viggo without any further interruption.” Hiccup said excitedly. “With you and me and Toothless, he’ll have no choice than to hand back the Dragon Eye! That’s it! We did it!” He walked around the table, still staring down at the model with all those tiny figurines and notes and ran his hands through his disheveled hair. “That… that really could work!” He looked up at her, eyes gleaming and Astrid couldn’t help but smile back at him. But, Odin, she was tired!

They’d spend hours in his hut now. This morning, Heather and Dagur had shown up and had asked for some help on Berserk Island. There were boulders to be blown up and a lot of useless wood to be burned down, ruins of former houses that needed to be removed before new ones could be built. Of course, with Windshear and Shattermaster they would have been able to do all this on their own but when it came to blowing stuff up and burning things down, nobody was as efficient as Snotlout and the Twins.

Hiccup had been reluctant to go, though. During the past few days, they’d begun to work on a plan to confront Viggo and he wasn’t exactly keen on the idea to interrupt that, now that they were finally making progress. In addition, Heather, who always saw more than anyone else, had only needed one glance at them, at the way they, Astrid and Hiccup, looked at each other, to know. She then had come up with an idea that suited everyone, even though Hiccup had been reluctant, again, to agree. He still felt like it was his responsibility to watch over the Twins even though they were hardly the troublemakers they once had been and Heather had already proven her capability to rein them in, anyway.

It hadn’t been hard to convince Fishlegs to go with them. Meatlug could be of great use in removing rubble, too, as well as producing Gronkle Iron for later use and Fishlegs’ knowledge of architecture would also be helpful. And then, he was excited to spend a few days with Heather anyway. So the Berserk siblings had stayed for lunch and afterward, all their friends had left Outpost Island. None of them had thought twice about it, except Heather, who’d winked at her once, and why should they? This wasn’t the first time she and Hiccup were all on their own, after all. They’d been on regular scouting patrols together for four years now, this was no different. Except, it was! Because Hiccup had kissed her after she’d regained her sight and now everything was different!

Although, not that different, really… After their friends had left, the two of them had returned to Hiccup’s hut just like on all the other days before and had brooded over their plan to finally get the Dragon Eye back from Viggo and Ryker. After those first awkward days of their relationship, they’d been able to work out some kind of routine by now. It wasn’t like they purposefully wanted to lie about their relationship to their friends. But being together was awkward enough even without the ever prying eyes of Team Snotnuts so they hadn’t said anything yet. Instead, they’d tried to concentrate on their plan, which would have been entirely impossible with one of their friends around, always trying to catch them doing things they weren’t supposed to do.

Astrid watched Hiccup as he now went over their plan once more. Their plan to gather every single available dragon rider, pair them into small groups and attack Viggo’s outpost in one strategical assault. He was enthusiastic about it and with good reason. This was a good plan and Astrid liked it all the more because of the way it had come to pass in the first place. This plan combined both their assets perfectly, her knowledge of fighting and how to best use their different skills to their advantage and Hiccup’s strategic mind to combine it all into one executable plan. They were good together!

She raised her hand to cover her mouth as she yawned. It was long past nightfall, surely past midnight as well and these had been many long hours with this to her rather unfamiliar activity of planning and discussing. She was tired but it was different from the fatigue she was used to. Normally, her body told her it had had enough activity for one day and needed rest but clearly, that wasn’t the case today. No, today it was her mind that was tired, her head felt like it was filled with wool and thinking became harder. She really needed to go to bed!

Astrid stood up and walked over to him, to say good night and maybe steal a kiss and embrace. She liked these little gestures, these proofs that, finally, they weren’t just friends anymore. It had taken a long time to reach this point and even these little things were still so new, so meaningful. They hadn’t kissed often so far, not real kisses at least. These playful pecks of their youth didn’t count! Kissing wasn’t something that came naturally for them and with all the work they had around the Edge and with this plan… Well, every single one had been a highlight so far, the one he’d given her that day at the stables, the one she’d stolen early in the morning a few days later when they’d met in their clubhouse while everyone else was still asleep, that first, deep good night kiss they’d shared a few days ago and the others thereafter, that had been far more cautious than that first one.

“Hiccup?” She addressed him self-consciously. Dammit, why was her usual confidence not working around him anymore? This was Hiccup, the same Hiccup she’d happily punched or embraced without further thought. Why was this so hard all of a sudden? “I think, we’ve been through this enough times now. It’s pretty late so…” She trailed off, hoping he would react, look up at her, maybe even offer to walk her to her hut. Not, that that was necessary, but it was nice. Walking together, even if it was just this small distance, was nice! It was a way of getting rid of all these important thoughts about plans and tactics and, for that short time at least, just thinking about each other, of them, together.

But Hiccup didn’t react, really, just grunted distractedly and reached for one of the small figurines to adjust its position. “Hiccup, I’ll go now. It’s late and I’m tired,” she tried anew. “And I wouldn’t want to fall off the bridges later.” She added half-jokingly. Maybe she would at least get him to laugh if nothing else.

But, again, there was no reasonable reaction and he just nodded. He reached for another figurine. “‘As you wish…” he murmured absentmindedly. “You know you could stay, right?”

Astrid had turned, resigned to leave without a kiss that night, but then stopped dead in her tracks, thunderstruck. What had he said? She whirled back toward him, to stare at him, dumbfounded but he still didn’t react and just leaned heavily on the table, engrossed in his thought. “What?” she asked aloud. Surely he hadn’t meant that like it had sounded, right? Her heart was racing at the mere thought, he could… could have implied… But no! Surely, he hadn’t! Not that she didn't… want to, but… Freya, they’d only kissed a few times so far! She knew Hiccup well enough to know that if she would have to decide now, she would choose to stay with him for the rest of her life but… Hel, that didn’t mean…

She felt herself blushing as she stared at her boyfriend. Even this term was still so strange! How could he say something like that and be completely unperturbed by it? But then, he wasn't… In one moment, he was still looking thoughtfully down on the table and in the next he stiffened, flinched and slowly, very slowly, finally turned toward her.

“You’re not Fishlegs.”

She blinked at him, uncomprehending. Why was he staring at her like she was a ghost, some terrifying monster to haunt him? And of course, she wasn’t Fishlegs! “Do I look like Fishlegs?” She asked angrily, her eyebrows drawn together. If this was supposed to be some joke then it wasn’t a funny one! But Hiccup back paddled, eyes wide and hands raised to ward her off or calm her down, she wasn’t sure which one.

“No! No, of course not! It’s just… I-I’m not used to you… being here, I mean…” He took a shaky breath and gulped. “I mean, normally it’s Fishlegs with whom I’m working through the nights,” he explained more coherently. “And more often than not, he stays. Sleeps on the floor, over there…” He gestured toward the corner where his small workshop was and where the heat of his forge outside provided a comfortable sleeping place. For being on the floor…

Astrid relaxed. So, he hadn’t implied… hadn’t asked her to spend the night with him after all. “I see…” She whispered and averted her eyes. Dammit, why was she disappointed now? “That… makes more sense… I think. More than me… here…” She broke off and bit her lip. Not, that she wanted to actually have… have sex with him… She wasn’t ready for that yet! But staying? Sleeping next to him, warm in his arms? Why was this thought so appealing all of a sudden?

“That… makes more sense… I think. More than me… here…”

“No!” Hiccup agreed hastily. “No, that wouldn't…” Mortified, his gaze wandered through the room. Thor, how could he have been so stupid? Ask Astrid if she wanted to stay? Wanted to spend the night here? In his hut? With him? Not that he wouldn’t want her to, but… Gods, she was Astrid Hofferson, the fact that she was here, now, with him, was incredible on its own. He still could hardly believe that he really was this lucky! And of course, he wanted her to stay, had dreamed of barely anything else for years but, oh Gods, he couldn’t tell her that! He still barely dared to get close to her, even though she seemed to like it. And he wanted… Oh, Thor, he wanted her to stay! Not… not like that! But… But he wanted… “But I want…” Holy Helheim, had he said that out loud? He bit his lip and cautiously glanced at her, whether she’d be angry. Gods, she would have every right to be…

But she wasn't… “You want… what?” She asked quietly. Too quietly maybe? Gods, he was dead.

“Nothing!” He said hastily. “I… nothing… really!”

She dropped her head and nodded slightly. “You… want me to go, then?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yes! Ahm… no! I…” Gods, he wished he could see her eyes right now, wished he could guess what she was thinking. He didn’t want her to go… “You… You could stay… if you want.” It was a risk! It was a risk and he knew that. But he really didn’t want her to go! This was too perfect, with their friends gone, no one would ask any questions in the morning. And it was not like he wanted to… to have… Not now, not tonight, not…. Not really! But he wanted to be with her, to hold her, to kiss her more than just once before they parted. Oh, Thor, please, let her stay!

“Okay” came her quiet answer and she looked up at him again. Her expression was cautious, maybe even a little frightened but there was this gleam in her eyes. A gleam that spoke of excitement and anticipation and his heartbeat quickened. She made one hesitant step toward him but then stopped, insecurity clear on her face. He gulped once and then made a decision.

She had chosen him. She had chosen to believe in him, back then when she’d first found him with Toothless in the cove, had chosen to follow his lead when he’d started to train dragons for Berk’s aid and when he’d decided to fly out and look for new land all these months ago. She had chosen to stay at the Edge, had chosen to return after she’d instructed the A-Team. A few days ago, she’d chosen him and now she had chosen to stay. That had to mean something… Up until now, there had been only one living being whom he trusted completely, around whom he had never felt the need to act out anything he wasn’t. One being who wouldn’t judge him and in return also trusted him completely. Toothless had given him the confidence he’d needed to become the person he was now but if he wanted to go on he probably would need more. Another person with whom he could be himself and more confidence as well. And she had chosen him…

He took a deep breath and made two quick steps with his long legs toward her, startling her and pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face into her hair. It was another risk, maybe he was too forward, maybe she would push him away and leave, for now, or for good. If she did, he wasn’t sure how he would go on, could go on, but he needed to take it anyway. They stood at a threshold, with their lives in constant danger, fighting almost every day and with an uncertain future ahead of them. He didn’t know whether their plan to attack Viggo would really work or would end in a suicide mission. And they had already wasted so much time because of his failure, he didn’t want to waste any more, especially not now when they’d finally made up their minds. Theirs was not a relationship that needed time to grow, they already knew each other so well. All they needed was getting used to this new situation. Or so he thought at least… Freya, please, let her think so, too! Either she would choose him again now or he didn’t really care what happened to him…

For an agonizingly long moment, nothing happened though. She was stiff as a statue in his arms, not moving, neither toward nor away from him and not saying one word, not making any noise. Gods, if this should be the last time he would hold her…

And then he felt her hands through his tunic and leather armor, not on his chest, not pushing him away but on his back, holding him close, drawing him in. He gasped into her hair, the relief that washed through him almost painful. She had chosen him, again.

A minute later, she leaned against him more heavily and sighed. “I… really am tired, you know…” she mumbled reluctantly and Hiccup chuckled shakily. He pulled back to look at her and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Let’s go to sleep then,” He took her hand and lead her up to the higher platform where Toothless already lay on his customary stone. Tiredly, he opened one of his big green eyes when he heard them, his gaze wandering from him to Astrid and back again. He blinked once and then closed the eye again, hiding behind his remaining tailfin. With a small grin, Hiccup shook his head at the dragon and turned toward his nightstand. Out of habit, he loosened the bracers on his forearms and pulled them off before he turned to glance at Astrid.

She stood unmoving and pale, shaking slightly and just stared unseeingly through him. Hiccup frowned. What was up with her? She wasn’t usually timid like this, not even when it came to putting off their armor in the presence of one another. They’d done that on multiple occasions during the last couple years after all. Like, to go swimming or at nights around the fireplace when they’d been on longer excursions. This wasn’t any different. Or was it? He stepped toward her, his gaze questioningly. “Astrid?” he asked and she flinched.

“I-I’m fine!” Her voice was shaking and he saw her swallowing. “It’s just…” She glanced up at him for a moment and blushed. “I…” she shrugged awkwardly and crossed her arms in front of her.

Hiccup watched her for a moment as her gaze wandered through the room, never meeting his eyes. She wasn’t comfortable being here… “Do you want to leave?” he asked calmly. If she wanted to go, he wouldn’t hold her back. He wanted her to stay, but not if she wasn’t at ease with it. He wanted her to be happy. Above all else, he just wanted her to be happy.

She bit her lip and then slowly shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “No, I, I don’t want to leave.” Another blush spread over her face and Hiccup finally understood. She felt just as awkward as he’d felt a few minutes ago before he’d decided to not waste any more time. But he wanted this to work! Maybe he was pushing his luck, but he really, really wanted this to work…

“May I help with your armor then?” He tried to keep his voice level and calm, to not let his own nervousness show. He hoped that would help her to calm down as well. Astrid’s eyes widened but she nodded mutely and Hiccup stepped closer to her, close enough to inhale the mayweed scent of her hair. Oh, Thor, this is going to be interesting. He thought dizzily and carefully reached beneath her left pauldron to unclasp the buckle there. He knew how to put off her armor, after all. He’d made it! Carefully, he lifted the leather and metal over her head and placed it on the trunk beside them before he turned back toward her. And gulped, suddenly self-conscious after all. He hadn’t thought this through! Her skirt? There was no way he could put that one off, too! Luckily, he didn’t need to.

When his eye met hers again, he noticed the change in her. She wasn’t as timid as before anymore, her eyes gleaming, filled with a soft emotion he couldn’t name. She stepped even closer toward him, stretched and a moment later, her lips met his. He gasped in surprise, the sound lost against her mouth before his eyes fluttered shut and he kissed her back.

This kiss was way better than the ones they’d shared during the last days, better even than that first deep kiss three days ago, almost as good as their first. He felt her soft body beneath his hands as his arms curled around her waist and he parted his lips as he felt her doing the same. Cautiously, he pushed his tongue out to meet hers, playfully, carefully exploring. He could lose himself in kisses like this one…

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when they parted, breathlessly. Seconds? Minutes? Years? He didn’t care… All he cared about was the girl in his arms with her wide smile and brightly gleaming eyes. “Can we do that again?” she asked, panting slightly and he gasped, his lips twitching into a grin before he leaned in to kiss her again.

A part of his mind noticed how they got closer to his bed, how she kicked off her boots and shimmied out of her skirt and how he, too, shrugged off his boot. Somewhere along the way, he’d even managed to get rid of his leather armor and fake leg, though he didn’t remember how really. All he remembered later was how he’d held Astrid Hofferson, the girl of his dreams, in his arms, how they’d kissed and cuddled for he didn’t know how long and how she’d finally fallen asleep, nestled into his arms and blanket, relaxed and with a smile on her rosy lips. He stared down at her, watched her sleep and still could hardly believe how lucky he was. There was only one downside to this, but it was one he was willing to take.

He wouldn’t get any sleep tonight.

[azvolrien]

The Lady of Kaltara - Chapter Four

In which we actually learn the title character’s name.

~~~

           For the second time in recent days, Fayn woke to unfamiliar surroundings. The memory of why returned all too quickly; immediately she shied away from it, unwilling to return to Cruon’s workshop with its needles and tubes and the chair with its straps, even just inside her head, and forced herself to concentrate on her surroundings instead.

           She had been untied, mostly; her wrists and ankles were free, but the collar remained locked around her throat and now sported a chain fixed to the back that rattled with every movement, the other end padlocked to the iron frame of the bed on which she had woken. The bed itself was unexpectedly comfortable, with a proper mattress covered with a clean linen sheet and a jaunty patchwork quilt, while the stone walls had been cleanly whitewashed, one of them decorated by a framed painting of a swan, and a woollen rug lay on the floor. There was even a proper toilet and basin in one corner, rather than just a bucket.

           It was, however, still a cell. The single small window was more than her height above the floor and blocked off with thick steel bars, and the door only locked from the outside. Light-headed and weak, Fayn hooked two fingers under her collar – someone had, at least, wrapped it in cloth to stop the metal chafing – and gave it a pull, but to no avail. She sighed and closed her eyes, only to open them again when a key turned in the lock and the Lady let herself into the cell.

           “Here.” She placed a steaming mug on the bedside table and sat down on the floor against the opposite wall. Fayn managed to sit up. “It’s just tea with honey. Drink.” Fayn just stared at it in suspicion. The Lady’s expression hardened. “Cruon took a lot of your blood – about as much as he could without you going into shock. You need fluids and you need sugar. Drink the damn tea or I’ll force it down your throat.”

           Fayn drank. It was surprisingly good.

           The Lady folded her arms. “You’re probably owed a few answers. Know who I am?”

           Fayn shook her head.

           “Is that right? That’s rare enough in these parts. Still, I did send Vil up to the mountains. Guess my fame doesn’t extend much outside the Basin. Name’s Mara Kovar, Lady of Kaltara. Not nobility in the classic Kiraani bloodline sense, but I keep things in order out here in the marshes and pay my taxes, so the Empire allows me my little affectations.”

           Fayn lifted one arm and, glaring, pointed at the bandage wrapped around her elbow.

           “Cruon, well… he’s a funny sort of mage,” said Kovar. “Works with blood – draws on the power tied up in it to do his experiments and make his potions. But some blood has more power in it than others, or is good for different ends. Humans are stronger than animals, and humans with magic are stronger than those without. The blood of the moontouched, now…” She sighed. “You know about Andari Sickness?”

           A hesitant nod.

           “Hardly anyone who saw the Andari Event lived to talk about it, but there are one or two accounts written down. They speak of a brilliant light and a searing heat, like the sun fallen to earth, before it faded away to leave the city in ruins and the land cursed. But stories change, they get exaggerated or twisted around, and soon nobody’s sure what really happened and what’s legend. So naturally when my idiot little brother hears rumours of fabulous treasures left behind in the ruins of Andari, he finds a way over the Wall and goes to see for himself. And he comes back bleeding from the mouth and carried on a stretcher, without any fabulous treasures to show for it.” Kovar bent over in her chair, rubbing her scalp with her fingertips. “As I said, he’s an idiot. But he’s family, and he’s running out of time and options. Cruon’s skills might be the last chance he gets, and how better to lift a curse from the sun than with a blessing from the moon?”

           Fayn, staring at her in a mix of reluctant pity and utter disbelief, opened her mouth to suggest taking him to a hospital, but no sound came out. Speechless both literally and figuratively, she touched the tips of her fingers to her throat.

           “I had an extra rune added to your collar while you were out cold,” said Kovar with no particular emotion. “You won’t be able to make a sound while you’re wearing it; you’ve clearly got a defiant streak, if Cruon wasn’t lying about how you kept trying to bite him, and I don’t want you yelling and disturbing my brother’s rest. He’s got the room above, you see.”

           Fayn bared her teeth.

           Kovar smiled sadly in reply. “Heh. Yeah, I think Cruon told the truth there.” She stood, leaning against the wall at her back, and held up the key on its ring. “I have the only key to this cell; nobody gets in here without my permission. I’ll have some food brought down in a while.” She glanced around the cell and added, “I’ll bring a few books for you to read as well. Get some rest in the meantime.”

           Fayn curled up in the corner of the bed, resting her chin on her knees, and continued to glare.

           “You have a very unsettling stare for someone whose eyes don’t work properly,” commented Kovar. “I’ll leave you in peace.”

           The cell door swung closed behind her with a certain finality, and the lock clanked shut. Fayn was left alone once more. She uncurled from her furious ball and lurched dizzily to her feet, then leant against the wall until her head stopped spinning. Breathing heavily, she set about exploring the room. There wasn’t much to see. The bedside table was fixed in place, its single thick leg inserted into a slot in the floor and secured there with lead; no chance of picking it up for use as a weapon, though if she balanced on top of it and leant precariously out to the side, she could just see out of the window. No escape route there, either – even if the bars and the glass were somehow dealt with, it was too narrow for her shoulders, as was the toilet plumbing. The chain on her collar was a fairly generous length; she could reach each corner of the room in turn without pulling it uncomfortably taut, though it would not have allowed her more than a couple of steps into the corridor outside and its weight was an encumbrance all by itself. Perhaps it could be used as a weapon, if necessary.

           Fayn sat back down on the bed, rubbing her temples. Looking for possible weapons was all well and good, but no weapon she could find would be of any help if she lacked the strength to wield it. She needed time to recover from Cruon’s needles before any escape attempts would have the slightest chance of success, and she had no idea how much time she had. She was safe as long as Mara Kovar thought she was useful. Perhaps Cruon really could cure Andari Sickness with her blood, in which case she probably had until Kovar’s brother had recovered – or perhaps Cruon was an utter charlatan with no real healing abilities, in which case… Well. Who knew how that would go? Either way, it seemed doubtful she would be allowed to walk free to speak of what had happened. Kovar was clearly not totally without a conscience, or she would not have bothered to arrange reasonably safe and comfortable quarters for her captive, but someone ruthless enough to order the kidnap and bloodletting of an innocent stranger was unlikely to flinch away from having her quietly disposed of once she had ceased to be of use.

           She lay down on her back and closed her fingers around her wedding ring, still on its own slender chain around her neck. Kovar didn’t know she had reinforcements on the way. Wygar knew where she was. Wygar always, always knew where she was, whether he wanted to or not, and he would be coming after her. She tried to hold on to that idea, but the walls of the cell, the collar at her neck, and the memory of needles in her veins made it difficult to feel encouraged. Still holding the ring, she rolled onto her side to face the wall.

           Fayn wanted her family, so hard it made itself known as a physical ache in her chest. She wanted her husband and her daughter, but also, deep in her bones, her parents and siblings, both those she could barely remember and those she remembered as clearly as glass. Within the privacy of her cell, weak with blood loss and muffled by the collar’s magic, Fayn closed her eyes and cried until sleep claimed her. Despite her exhaustion, it was a long time in coming.

***

           Another day of Rathus’ long-legged gallop brought them to a low ridge at the edge of the Kaltara Basin. Ahead, the occasional dry hill or stand of trees rose from the marshlands, but otherwise there was nothing but mile upon mile of water and reeds.

           “You travelled in the Gorsfen on your journeying year, didn’t you?” asked Una after they broke camp the next morning, staring up at an impossibly-wide sky.

           “I did, sweetheart,” said Wygar. “Nearly drowned, fought an afanc, and lived in a crannog for a couple of weeks. But the Gorsfen is less than half the size of the Basin, and it’ll be much slower going from here.”

           “Are there afancs here?”

           Wygar grimaced and touched the old hooked claw tied on a cord around his neck. “I don’t think so, no. I certainly hope not. But who knows what else could be hiding in the water here?”

           “Crocodiles, maybe?”

           “Please don’t sound hopeful about that! No, we’re too far north for crocodiles. Right. Time to get our feet wet, then.”

           Rathus trotted down the slope and waded out into the marsh. At first, water only squashed between his toes, pressed from a sodden carpet of moss, but soon it was up to his knees and lapping at his belly as he pushed through dense reed beds and crossed carefully over deeper channels. Calburn’s words had proven true; Rathus was indeed a little more intelligent than before. Where previously he would have walked blindly ahead until directed otherwise by Wygar, now he paused to check his footing more carefully before committing his weight and detoured around the more impassable thickets they found. Occasionally, where the water was shallow and the ground firm enough, he managed a canter, but for the most part he could go no faster than a trot if even that much, and Wygar estimated they had travelled no more than thirty miles into the Basin by that sunset. They set up camp on one of the low islands within the marsh, overlooking a wider channel of water.

           “Is it a river or a pond?” wondered Una, crouching to splash her hands in the water. “I can’t see the ends of it, but it doesn’t have much of a flow to it.”

           “It – do you know, I’m not actually sure.” Wygar sat cross-legged next to her. “In some ways, the Kaltara Basin is more of… a much shallower bit of the Inland Sea. So I suppose that makes areas like this like sea lochs in miniature, or maybe some kind of natural canal.”

           “That makes sense.” Una dried her hands on her tunic and sat down. “What’s your elf-sense saying now?” she asked. “Are we closer?”

           “Oh, it goes without saying that we’re closer, sweetheart.” Wygar closed his eyes. “It’s a little clearer now,” he said without opening them. “Not enough to completely pinpoint her location – I can’t do that unless she’s within about half a mile – but… we’re closer, and we’re going the right way.”

           “Good.” Una picked up a small stone and flicked it into the water. “Do you ever find that a bit… creepy? How you can always find her?”

           “Mm, a little bit. It’s why I try to ignore it most of the time. It would go both ways if she were an elf as well…”

           “But she isn’t, so it doesn’t.”

           “Indeed. Still, it does come in useful in emergencies. Anyway, let’s raise the wards and get some sleep.”

           It wasn’t the sun or the dawn chorus that woke them the next morning, but the sound of voices drifting in the air. Wygar sat up within the wards and packed up his bedroll, trying to make out what was said, but they were still too distant and fell oddly flat through the fog coating the marshes. He could see the water around their hill, but not much further. Frowning, he shook Una awake from where she curled up under her blanket, her back to Rathus’s ribs.

           “Morning,” she yawned. “Is something happening?”

           “Not sure, sweetheart. Someone’s nearby, but I can’t tell who. Listen.”

           Una cocked her head. “They’re getting closer.”

           Soon they could make out the words, though what they meant was a mystery. Someone was spiritedly – if not very tunefully – singing to the marshes in a language Wygar did not even recognise, let alone understand, while a low murmur of other voices followed behind them. Soon, dark shapes emerged from the fog and revealed themselves as a little train of barges sailing along the channel. The foremost was hauled along by a seal-like construct, its tow-ropes leading down from the bow to the construct’s harness, while four more were towed behind in turn. The singer was the man at the helm of the tug, who controlled both the rudder and the construct with two different wheels.

           “Wait here a moment,” whispered Wygar, before he stepped out of the wards and walked down to the water’s edge just as the tug’s bow drew level with the island. “Heading east?” he called across the water.

           “Ayup,” said the pilot. “Bound for Vosta with all manner of cargo.”

           “Taking passengers?”

           “Sure, if you can get aboard before we’re past.”

           “Back in a moment.” Wygar hurried back up to the campsite, where Una had taken an apple from the bags to eat as she waited. “Get packed, sweetheart,” he said. “They’re going the right way, and we’ll move faster by boat.”

           Una nodded and stuffed her blanket into a bag while Wygar dismissed both the wards and Rathus. He tied the summoning stone back around his neck, slung the saddlebags around his shoulders and his staff through the loops, and lifted Una into his arms, then sprinted down the hill and leapt from the island into the last of the passing barges.

           “Made it?” called the pilot.

           “Made it,” Wygar shouted back.

           “That was quite a jump.”

           Wygar looked up. They weren’t alone on the barge: as well as a cargo of pelts, logs, barrels and what looked like a large cage mostly covered with a tarpaulin, they shared the space with half a dozen other rough-looking travellers, four men and two women. The speaker was one of the men, a skinny, pallid fellow with a long knife sheathed across his chest.

           “Thanks,” said Wygar, sitting down with his back to a bale of pelts and setting Una on the deck at his side. “Heading for Vosta?” Wherever that was.

           “Aye. Got things worth selling,” the man rapped the blade of his knife against the cage, to a growl from its inhabitant, “and if you can’t sell something in Vosta, well, you just can’t sell anything.” He looked them both up and down. “Got a name, wanderer?”

           “Yes.”

           “Gonna share it?”

           “Heh, been a while since anyone used it,” said Wygar to buy time to think. “Fox. Call me Fox.”

           “Fox, eh?” The man sheathed his knife again and stood up, crossing the barge for a closer look at the bedraggled pair. “Suppose that makes the little mutt there your cub, then?”

           Wygar placed an arm in front of Una and didn’t quite manage to make it look casual.

           The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You know, I expect she’d fetch a decent price to the right buyer. That nice red hair and gold eyes, and a half-breed for another touch of the exotic.” He genuinely didn’t seem to think this was something his audience might find offensive. His companions glanced at each other behind his back, one of the men clearly trying not to laugh. The two women held a quick, whispered conversation and sat back to see what would happen. “You’d get a better price in Vosta,” he went on, a predatory light coming into his eyes, “but if you need the cash now I could take her off your hands.”

           Nobody even saw Wygar stand up. The butt of his staff cracked into the base of the man’s throat, sending him toppling onto his backside as he clutched his neck. Wygar placed one foot on his chest and pushed him down onto his back. “I’ll make this easy to remember,” said Wygar, setting the staff tip against the man’s forehead. “Touch. Her. And. You’re. Dead. Understood?”

           Wheezing, the man approximated a nod. Wygar moved both his staff and his foot away and sat back down next to Una, holding his staff across his knees in both hands to disguise their trembling.

           The other five shared another look for a silent moment, then burst into laughter. One of the women passed a handful of coins to the other. “You’re an idiot and you completely deserved that,” said the man who had suppressed his laughter earlier.

           The other two men picked up a couple of logs from the stacks and built a miniature wall around Wygar’s corner of the barge. “We’ll leave you your territory, Fox,” said one of them, still half-laughing as the man with the knife retreated to the bows and hid amongst the barrels there. “He won’t bother you again now that you’ve shown him who’s boss.”

           Wygar just nodded, not trusting himself to speak steadily yet. “I’m sorry you had to see that, sweetheart,” he murmured to Una.

           “I’m not,” she muttered back. “He wanted to sell me! If you hadn’t hit him, I would’ve.”

           Wygar chuckled softly. “Yes, I thought you might. But you still have some training ahead of you before you can hit as hard as me.”

           “Where’s Vosta?”

           Wygar didn’t know, but the group across the barge were happy to explain.

           “It’s the capital of the Basin, more or less,” said one of the women. “The only proper town in the marshes, not counting the odd little village or shack, and the stronghold of Lady Kovar.”

           “Of more interest to us,” said one of the men, “it’s also the biggest and best trading port between the Empire and Huaxia across the Inland Sea – at least if you don’t want to deal with all the customs checks at the Huaxia Shield,” he added with a wink.

           “So you’re smugglers?” said Wygar.

           “Good sir, we are offended!” said another man with a mock gasp. “We just take our goods to Vosta. The smugglers take care of what happens after that.”

           “Your friend there,” said Wygar, nodding towards the bows. “You traffic slaves often?”

           “Nah, they’re too hard to transport for a small outfit like ours,” said the other woman. “You need to be dealing in bulk to make much of a profit at that out here.”

           “Though Lady Kovar does issue the odd request now and then,” said the first man. “A healer, a beast-blooded, a stonemage to fix up her fortress walls…”

           “Moontouched, a while back,” put in the second man.

           “Moontouched?” said Wygar.

           They explained. “Dunno why she needed one,” said the first woman with a shrug. “Maybe after a symbol of the moon’s favour. Something to do with the tides?”

           “Does the Inland Sea even have tides?” asked the other woman.

           They fell into a good-natured argument about it, leaving Wygar and Una to their thoughts. Una took Wygar’s hand. “What do you think?” she asked.

           “That I’ll need to have a chat with this Lady Kovar when we get to Vosta,” he growled.

           “Yep. That’s what I thought, too.”

           The little line of barges sailed on. Within the cage under the tarpaulin, a pair of gleaming golden eyes fixed on Wygar and Una, and narrowed in thought.

~~~

Little bit of trivia for you: ‘Kovar’ is a Czech name meaning ‘Smith’. So effectively Wygar and Mara have the same surname.

Una is actually mixed-race both by real-world and Stranatir standards; her parents are (approximate fantasy equivalents of) Northern European and South Asian. However, the in-universe racists don’t really care about that and are more concerned that her dad is an elf.