#point two is that I was able to catch so many creatures there

[crippl-hacker]

Once again I am infodumping on people about the Sonoran Desert and other random animals.

I thank people for listening but I get the vibe that people don’t enjoy it (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

[sachiko6243]

Make me your wife

Summary: Y/N and her sister got attacked by giant spiders. Luckily Thranduil and his men were near enough to come to their rescue. What Y/N didnt think would ever happen, would be the elven king falling for her sassy and sarcastic character...

Word count: 6606

Warnings: spider attack in the beginning, sass, smut in the end, Minors DNI, this contains adult content!

This was written on request for: @mitsurisu I hope you like it. Sorry for the long wait, but I had much to do at my work. 😅

I was riding through the forest of the Woodland realm with my sister Leonor. We had set of from Rivendell on the request of Legolas. We had met him after he had helped the dwarves to take back their mountain. He was a very nice fellow, flirtatious and easy going, to the point where my sister had poked me and made fun of me for maybe pursuing him as a potential partner. She had been married to her husband for the last 300 years and was still utterly convinced that I would be happy in a marriage as well.

Nothing I said was driving her from that path and I had given up convincing her otherwise, deciding that letting her talk and ignore it would be the best option. She was once again on a rampage on married life, while I rode besides her, letting my thoughts and gaze wander. A crack deeper in the woods made me listen up. I knew that in those woods there were living many giant spiders, so I silenced my sister. She wasn’t a fighter like I was and if we were in trouble I needed her to listen to me.

“Shut it, Leonor. I think I heard something!” I whispered, but she waved it off. “Oh, come on Y/N. You always see and hear danger everywhere.”

“Its my job. I am a soldier after all. Be quiet, there are many spiders in these woods. I need to figure out if we are in danger.” I growled, my hands already gripping my two swords.

“Relax. There is nothing out there. You know how thoroughly Legolas and the guards clear those woods. He has told us on many occasions.” She sighed, not taking the threat seriously.

Another crack made me draw my swords, telling my horse to speed up. Leonor was quick to follow me and we were now thundering through the forest. I really hoped that it was just the forest doing foresty things and not some giant spiders, but my hope was being denied.

With a loud thud, a dark green giant spider dropped right in front of us. Leonor was just quick enough to steer her horse around it, while I was cut of by the spiders body. My horse shrieked, nearly throwing me off, but I was just able to keep me on its back. “RUN!” I yelled at my sister, making myself ready to face the big monster.

“Y/N!” She screamed, drawing the attention of the beast to her. It got up high enough for me to ride under his stomach, grabbing the reigns of my sisters horse who seemed frozen in place.

Dragging her behind me, I rushed my horse through the woods, hoping that we would be faster than that spider. Leonor took a while to come out of her frozen state, but when she was able to steer her horse again, I gave her back the reigns, now drawing my bow, turning around on my horse to shoot at the giant spider. But it didn’t seem like my arrows really seemed to bother the creature that was chasing us. And to my dismay, I hear the clicking sounds of several more coming through the woods.

They started to catch up to us, our horses slowly but surely loosing speed. And then it happened. We got circled by two smaller spiders dropping in front of us. Our horses freaked again, this time throwing us off their backs and making a run, only to be killed by spiders stomping onto them. Immediately they started to drag them away, probably into their net. I reached for another arrow, realizing, that I had shot every single one of them, without taking down one single spider.

“Fuck.” I let out, throwing my bow to the ground and dragging my swords.

“What do you mean fuck?” Leonor asked and I just gritted out: “Fuck as in we are fucked. I am out of arrows.”

“You shot all of them?” She asked and I wanted to smack her: “No, I threw them away. Of course I did!”

“No need to be so snappy.” She lashed back and I just looked at her with a deadly glare. “Oh yes, we are just about to die and I should play happy fun time with you? Forgive me for feeling a little stressed.”

“Its not my fault, that it happened.” Leonore seemed hurt and I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “I never said it was. I am sorry for snapping at you. Its just… Ah forget it. Try to stay close to me, without getting in my way. If we are getting separated, I cant protect you and if you are in my way, I will probably hurt you. Just…” I tried to make it understandable for her. “…think of it as a dance.”

“A dance?” She asked and I could hear she was raising her brows. “Why would I think of this as a dance?” Shrugging my shoulders I swung my sword at the first spider stepping close: “I don’t know. You are the minstrel of us. I was just trying to make it logical for you.”

I didn’t hear what she answered, because my sword collided with the heavy foot of a spider, drawing an ugly screeching sound from it, as I cut through the hard material. Letting my second sword swing higher, I managed to stab it into the thicker part of the leg. Ripping out my first sword, I swung my body around and through the air, landing on top of the spider. I forced both my swords into its head, managing to down it. Jumping off, I faced the next one, but my fight seemed to have no end, as I saw that the ranks were quickly closed again.

A horn being blown and horses thundering through the woods made me catch a new wave of hope and I started to fight back harder, always making sure to cover my sister from any attacks. I heard yelling and arrows whirring through the air and I realized, that the spiders slowly but surely were thinned out. Facing another one, I was just quick enough to jump aside, as it launched for me. Rolling around, I found myself underneath its big body. Not hesitating a second, I stabbed my blades into its stomach drawing it along, as I ran to get out of there.

A mixture of spider blood, gushy intestines and a sort of dark slime covered me, as I stumbled out beneath the tumbling and falling creature. Catching my breath, I stood there for several seconds, trying to regain some strength and to get rid of the slippery mixture that covered me. When I was able to look back up, the rest of the spiders had either been slain or forced away, leaving us and the elves that came to our rescue behind. “Y/N! Leonor!” I heard Legolas yell, turning to look at him.

A sarcastic smile on my lips, I greeted him: “You seem to lack in your mission to clear the woods, my prince.” He gritted his teeth, hugging Leonor, but refraining to do the same to me: “You are as friendly as always, Y/N.” I shrugged, shoving my swords back into their sheaths. “What can I say. I was raised to be a sunshine.” But when I saw his father approaching us, I stopped talking, bowing to greet the king. “My king. I apologize for causing trouble in your lands.”

“No need to apologize. You were right. It seems as if my son isn’t particularly thorough with his task. I am the one in need to apologize as this has clearly endangered you and your…”

“Sister, my king.” I helped him out, still looking down on the ground.

“…your sister. Am I correct with the assumption you came to visit my kingdom?” He asked.

“Yes, my king. We came to visit your son, prince Legolas. He has invited us.” I answered stiffly, looking at Legolas for help. The blond elf just smiled at me and I dared to look at his father the first time. And what I saw knocked the breath out of my lungs. He was gorgeous to say the least.

Tall, strong, handsome. The similarities to Legolas unmistakable. And his blue eyes. Staring at me as if he was reading directly into my soul. I was totally caught of guard by his appearance, not realizing he was talking to me again: “I am sorry. What did you say, my king?” I barely remembered to address him by his title, but he didn’t seem to mind. Smiling at me, he repeated his words: “I was welcoming you to my kingdom. As it seems, something must have caught your attention, my Lady.”

“Y/N. Just Y/N, my king. I am no lady. Just a common soldier of Rivendell.” I corrected him, trying my best to hide my breathless voice. Thranduil looked behind me, the smile on his lips widening. “A very good one, as it seems. You took out two spiders on your own.”

“And I shot all my arrows without them having any effect.” I reduced his praise, not feeling comfortable with the king saying such high words about me. He clicked his tongue. “Ah, arrows barely have any effect on the spiders. Their shells are far to thick for them to penetrate deep enough.”

“I didn’t know, my king. The next time I will come prepared.” I said, bowing deeply again.

“The next time?” He asked with a smirk to his lips and I furrowed my brows: “Yes? Did I do something wrong, my king? If I have insulted you in any form, I apologize.” But Thranduil just grinned at me with a knowing look on his lips, before he turned around: “The next time you visit us, let me know beforehand, so that I can ensure your save journey. A lady like you must not face such beasts under my watch.”

“I can fend for myself!” I yelled after him, this time leaving out his title, as his assumption angered me. He looked over his shoulder, taking in my angry form for a moment, before he answered: “I know. But I would feel better if you were protected by my guards.” Then he turned around, looking at a light brown haired man: “Feren, ensure that Leonor and Lady Y/N have a horse to ride on and have a bath prepared for them.” The man bowed his head slightly. “Yes, my Lord.”

***

And that’s how I had met Thranduil. That was nearly 100 years ago. 87 to be exact. He had started to court me soon after that incident, sending letter over letter to Rivendell, to the point where even Lord Elrond heard of what was happening. In the beginning I didn’t think much of it, reading his letters as nothing more as friendly correspondence. Until one day he literally showed up in Rivendell, demanding to speak with Lord Elrond himself.

Later on, I was told, that Thranduil had demanded to know if I was forced to work too much, since I didn’t answer every single one of his letters. From then on, our letters turned into a frequent thing, until one day I asked Lord Rivendell to free me from my duties and to allow me to live in Mirkwood. Lord Elrond let me go with a warm and knowing smile, something I didn’t exactly know how to read back then.

But soon, Thranduil and my friendship turned into him making advances until I finally gave in to courting him. Thranduil had pulled every string he had, to get me to fall for him. He made sure that I was taken care off, that I had everything I ever wished for to the point where I literally had to fight him on lessening his extensive gifts, but there was nothing I could do to talk sense into that man.

And now here I was, sitting at the big banquet next to him. We had gotten married. Well technically we weren’t truly married yet, since for elves the marriage was only completed when the marriage was conceived. And to be honest, I couldn’t wait much longer. My friends and family had come to Mirkwood and wished me the very best. Even Lord Elrond had managed to fit in time to spare my marriage a visit, congratulating me.

I looked at my now husband, only to find him staring at me already. “You are so beautiful, my little starlight.” He whispered, reaching his hand for mine. I squeezed his hand, leaning in to his shoulder. “How long do we have to keep up this thing, until we can retreat?” I asked, the alcohol in my blood probably pushing me to speak this openly. Thranduil chuckled at my words: “So desperate already?” I smacked him on the chest. “Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“At least I don’t show it so openly.” He teased me, kissing my hand softly. “Dance with me, meleth.”

Letting him pull me to my feet, he guided us to the dancefloor, pulling me close to his body and I could feel that he was longing for me the same way I did for him. His head sank down to my level as he whispered: “This one last dance should appease our guests. I think they already know what is about to happen, but it is much easier to vanish between dancing couples than from the high table.” I smirked at his words, leaning my head onto his chest. “Is that so, my king?”  I felt him shrug: “At least I suspect it would make things easier for Feren. He always seems to be so stressed.”

“That’s because you stress him, herven.” I answered and the way he stiffened at me calling him husband for the first time, made me smile. “Herven.” He repeated. “Say it again. It sounds so beautiful from your lips.”

“What? Herven?” I asked, putting a soft moan to my words. Thranduils breathing became rigid, as he clearly had trouble keeping the rhythm of the dance. He took a deep breath, before he simply ended the dance pulling me through the other couples. “You know what? Fuck it. I am done waiting.” Once we were far enough away from the others to hear or see us, he threw me over his shoulder, causing me to shriek out loud. “Thranduil!”

“Oh yes. That’s even better.” He grinned, carrying me through the halls and back to his chambers. “I am going to make sure that the only things that are leaving your mouth will be my name, my title and those sweet little moans or yours.”

***

Thranduil stopped in front of his door, looking at me with what I believed to be fear in his eyes. “Are you ready?” He asked me and I nodded: “Yes.” Taking his hand, I followed him inside. As soon as the door fell shut behind us, he pressed me against a wall, a sly smirk on his lips. “You have no idea, how much I waited to do this.” I didn’t react to his tease, just pulling him in by his collar, desperate to kiss him. His hands wandered to my waist, gripping the fabric of my dress.

I held onto him, still letting his hands wander over my body. “Are you sure, you want to do this?” He asked, his breath fanning down my neck, before he bit down on my sweet spot. Moaning at the sensation that rushed through my body, I tried my best to keep the conversation going: “Yes, I am. I haven’t been so sure about anything in my life, ever.”

“Good. Because I doubt, I would be able to endure the wait any longer.” His husked voice sent shivers down my spine and I had to hold on to his shoulders, to not faint. “You know what this perfume does to me, darling? The whole evening, I could not focus on anything else than you sweet smell. Do you even know, how hard I was all evening?” He picked me up, pressing me against the wall, looking at me with an angry hunger in his eyes. “I should not be commanded by a woman like that, especially not one that does it so easily like you do. It is endangering my reputation.”

“I think your reputation as the King is hardly attacked with you desiring your wife.” Trying my best to fight back against his administrations, I rolled back my head when his free hand opened the lacing of my dress, desperate to feel more of him. “What reputation, darling? Go on. Make your point.”

“The… fuck…” I cursed, earning a chuckle: “That’s very unladylike, darling. I should knock that word out of your brain.”

“You wouldn’t dare to do that. You love my dirty mouth.” I sassed back. He hummed at my words, just holding me tight to his body. “I do. And I want to make sure you are taken care off.” His words made me open my eyes again, leaning back to look at him.

He let me down slowly, still trying to hide his face from me, but I held his head, looking at him, when he let go of me: “No, please tell me. What are you afraid of?” I asked, stepping closer to him, but he just dodged backwards. Tilting my head, I followed him into the living area, effectively backing him into the sofa. When he sat down on it, I straddled his lap. “Are you afraid to be close to me?”

“No…” He breathed heavily. “Yes… I don’t know. I… I want to be close to you, but I don’t want you to feel forced. You know how it is… Wifely duties and all and I don’t want to pressure you into anything, but at the same time I want to feel you, hold you, smell you, taste you. Everything. I am in no place to expect anything from you, so I refrain from giving in to those thoughts too much, because I don’t want to make it too obvious to you, that my needs are currently overruling my consciousness. And now that I am close and… and alone with you, I realize that its much harder than I have thought it would be... I want this to be special to you. I want to be the loving husband you deserve, to let you know that you are my most priced treasure… That I would do anything for you.”

I just looked at him: “Are you… are you rambling? The elven king and man of precise language is rambling and stuttering?”

“Yes.” Was all he said. “And you currently sitting on my lap, dressed like that, doesn’t help my case either.”

“What's stopping you?” Letting my voice drop lower, I leaned forward, rolling my hips shamelessly over his lap. He groaned out, gripping my tighter. “Y/N… You don’t have to do this. I can live with it, if you aren’t ready.”

“Do I look forced, meleth?” I whispered close to his ear, nibbling on it. “Show me what it feels like. Please, meleth. Touch me. Please… be my husband.”

Thranduil let his head fall back, his eyes were closed, as he was definitely on his last straw of mindfulness. “How much do I need to push you, until you give in?” I giggled at his neck, making my way up to his chin and then hovering over his lips. “Would it help, if I lose my wedding dress?”

“You sound like a prostitute…” He gritted out and I just grinned wider. “And? Is it working?”

“Yes. And I don’t know if I like that thought.”

“Which thought? Me as a prostitute, or that I am succeeding to win you over that easily?” I kept on teasing him. Leaning back, I opened up the strings of my dress, pulling it over my head.

He balled his fists at my waist, his eyes forcefully trained on my face. “Both. But I would never let you become a prostitute.”

“Scared to share me?” Still keeping up my teasing way, I just sat on top of him, waiting for him to react. “No.” He gritted out.

“What's it then? Afraid another man might do me better?” Wetting my fingers with my tongue, I let them slide between my legs, stabilizing myself with my free hand on his knee. And when my fingers found my clit, I hummed in pleasure, still watching his face intently. Not reacting to my administrations, he spoke in a very forced tone: “You are my wife. There is no other man. Ever.”

“Hmmm. I like that, meleth.” I sighed, feeling how I grew wetter, so I dipped one finger inside my core, only to then put it to my mouth to lick it clean. “I like it, when you get possessive and confrontive towards other men. The difference of how you treat them and how you treat me, makes me feel special.”

“Does it now?” He sassed and I sighed internally. I finally had him broken out of his restrictive shell. I had my husband back: “Always has.”

“You really want to do this?” He inquired further and I nodded. “Yes. Please. I think I am ready.” Taking one last breath, he gripped my thighs. “Hold on.” Without giving me much time to react, he got up, walking towards the bedroom. “If you want me to do this, I am going to do this properly.”

“I know. Everything else wouldn’t be like you.” I grinned, hiding my face in his neck. He sat me down slowly on the edge of the bed. Then he stepped back, taking off his clothes one piece after the other: “If you are already naked, I shall be too. I don’t want to make you feel insecure.” His words made me blush and I stuttered out a quiet “Thank you.”  

Thranduil came back to me sinking further to his knees. When he was eyelevel with my stomach, he softly kissed it, then down my thigh until he reached my knee. “Lean back and relax.” His voice was rough, his warm breath sending goosebumps over my inner thigh.

“I want to watch you. I need to see you.” I whispered, stroking through his hair. His jaw clenched at my words, but he didn’t say anything, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to it. “If you wish so.” His fingers ghosted over my skin, leaving trails of goosebumps behind. “I will take my time today. I want to take care of you as good as I can.” He whispered roughly, kissing the insides of my thighs up to my core. I was too mesmerized with his softness, his blue eyes burning with love and passion, that I was incapable of answering him.

Then I felt his first finger touch my core and I stiffened up, digging my nails in his shoulders. He immediately stopped, looking up at me, waiting for me to relax. We stared into each others eyes, Thranduil kissing and nibbling on my thighs. “You are safe, meleth. Relax. There is nothing you have to fear.” Taking a deep breath, I focused on his eyes, relaxing as much as I could. And when he felt me giving up my barrier, he kept on pushing his finger inside of me. “See? You are doing great.”

I closed my eyes, the faint sound of his name on my lips and I could feel the familiar feeling starting to grow between my legs. Carefully he added another finger, scissoring them apart, creating a steady rhythm. “Let go, love. You are doing so good. Taking my fingers so well.” He praised me, his voice low and soft like silk. I could feel my blood rush to my face, painting it a light pink shade, my heartbeat thrumming in my ears, that I nearly missed his sweet little murmurs. His mouth wandered all over my thighs, my stomach, and hip bones, until he hovered over my core. “May I?”

“Yes…” I breathed out, moaning, when I felt his lips kiss my sensitive spot. Instinctively I spread my legs further, letting myself fall back onto the bed, one hand still clasping his free arm. “Thranduil…” I moaned, unable to focus on anything else than the man between my legs, lulled in by his sweet touches and soft little praises. “Please don’t stop.” I cried out, not really caring, that it was still the early evening, our windows hanging open, still a hurried humming coming from the big ball room.

“Never.” Was all he answered, slowly finger fucking me. It was ridiculous, how fast he was able to find the sweet spot deep inside of me. I heaved myself onto my elbows, wanting to see him, rather than just feeling him. And the expression that he had on his faze was breathtaking. Full of confidence and arrogance, a slight smirk forming on his lips, when he realized I was watching him again. “You taste so fucking good.” He groaned, raising his head to properly look at me. The shamelessness of him made me gasp out in embarrassment. His face was covered in my slick, eyes wild and hungry.

His gaze flickered between soft love and hungry possession as he was clearly fighting his urges to claim me. And I was absolutely turned on by it.

Thranduils smile grew wicked, when he saw how much I was affected by him. Wiping my slick of his chin, he licked his fingers clean, making a show out of it, simultaneously not stopping his fingers working my core. “You like that do you?” I wasn’t able to answer, just staring him in the eyes. “Answer me, my love, or I will stop.” He teased, some of his usual possessive self breaking through.

“Yes.” I pressed out, his name quickly following, when he curled his fingers perfectly against my sweet spot. Dipping down again, his fingers and tongue kept pushing me further down the road of my orgasm. The knot in my lower stomach starting to grow tighter, my legs wrapping around his shoulders, to keep him in place. I could feel my walls starting to flutter around his digits, another sign that I was close. The strength left my upper body and I fell back onto the bed, pulling his free arm close to my chest, nails digging into his skin. My eyes rolled back into my head as his name rang through the room, when my orgasm suddenly washed over me.

I felt him carefully pull out his fingers, his hands gently covering my cunt, as I just dwelled in the feeling. Tears started to form in my eyes and I tugged on his arm. “Meleth…” I mewled, desperate to feel him. He reacted instantly, getting up from his position climbing onto the bed and pulling me higher into the pillows. I turned around, crawling to the headboard falling to my stomach. “Feel you!” I pressed out, hugging a pillow tight to my chest.

Seconds later, I could feel his warm body hovering over me. I reached out for his hand that was holding his weight, clamping my fingers around his wrists. Sinking down on his elbows, he pressed me down, taking my hands in his bigger ones. The new intimate position making me feel hot and safe at the same time. His strong chest forced me down, chest hair tickling on my back, his thighs caging me in, as he buried me underneath him. “Thranduil…” I whimpered desperately, bucking my ass against his crotch.

He growled into my ear, his lips smothering me roughly, leaving a trail of wet kisses behind. “Please… I need you… Meleth…” I tried again, pressing up against his body, only to be met with him pressing me down further. “By Valar, please… I cant bare it anymore…” Begging for more, I cried out for him the tension in my body so high, that I was sure I would snap any moment.

His hands were roaming over my body, when he suddenly grabbed my arm, twisting me around. I shrieked and he instantly pulled back, skidding back to the edge of the bed, hands raised. “I am sorry, darling. I let myself go. Forgive me.”

“Its alright, Meleth. I trust you. I just didn’t expect this.” I smiled at him, reaching out for him. “Come back. Please.”

“What if I hurt you?” He stayed at the end of the bed.

“You wont hurt me.”

“You don’t know that!” He nearly yelled; the stress clear in his eyes. I gulped hard, seeing him irritated like that send a shiver down my spine. Taking a deep breath, I forced the unwanted thoughts out of my head.

“I know that you would never willingly do something that would harm me in any way. And that is all you can do. I trust you with all my life and I want this, meleth. I need this. Please. What can I do to make you believe me? To help you to trust yourself with me?”

“Promise to tell me, when its too much, or when I hurt you.” He rasped, slowly coming back to me, leaning his face into my hand.

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, kissing my palm, before he sat back on his ankles, opening his breeches and I couldn’t help but stare at him.

His cock sprung free, hard, and tinted in a light pink shade, a drop of precum already crowning on his tip. “Fuck yes…” I breathed, staring at his manhood, not realizing, that he moved again, ridding himself from his breeches, crawling towards me again. He forced me to lay back down on my back and I just wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him flush against my core. That caused him to grind his hips against mine, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. I just clung to his body, squirming against his touch. “So needy.” He mused, kissing his way down to my breasts, taking one nipple between his lips.

Him sucking so delicately on my nipple, let me jolt in pleasure. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my thigh, twitching in anticipation. Supporting all his weight on one hand, he looked at me one last time, waiting for me to give him my consent. Nodding I bit my lip, bracing myself for what was about to come. He guided his hard member into me, very carefully easing his way in. I was still incredible wet from my previous orgasm, but I wasn’t prepared to take him, my body tensing up at the intrusion, making him stop mid movement. “Are you alright, darling? We don’t have to…” But I shook my head. “Go on. I want this.” 

Once he bottomed out, he stayed sheathed like that, distracting any thought I had with kissing me, until my head spun. It didn’t take long for me to grow accustomed to him, my hips starting to roll against him. I held onto his shoulders, looking him deep into the eyes. “I love you.” Thranduil nearly crumbled at my words, closing his eyes and groaning lowly. “Fuck me… That’s the hottest ‘I love you’, you have ever said.” Giggling I blushed. “I doubt that.”

“Not that it isn’t incredible to hear you say it in any other situation, but this… this just hits different. You trusting me like this... This memory will forever be my heaven.”

“You old romantic.” I groaned, but my smile betrayed me, him bending down for a kiss. “Always for you.”

Slowly he started to move, setting a slow and steady pace, fully set on pleasuring me as much and long as he could. My walls started to accommodate him more, relaxing around him. I hummed at the sweet feeling that started to spread through my body, my head sinking deeper into the pillows. “Yes…” I sighed, closing my eyes, just holding onto his upper arms.

“I love you, darling. Just relax and enjoy.” His words were water on a hot stone, instantly fogging up my mind, a light veil covering us.

He bent down to my neck, kissing it, nibbling onto my shoulder and a short worry of being marked up by him shot through me, but when he managed to hit my sweet spot, that worry got kicked out of my mind again. “Thranduil!” I yelped, digging my nails into his arms even more. “Do it again.” He growled against my skin, his teeth nipping on the sweet spot right under my ear. “Let me hear how much this pleasures you.” I complied to his demand, babbling before I even managed to filter anything that left my mouth: “Please… Give me more… I need more. Make me your wife, please… This feels so good. You feel so good. Claim me, please… meleth.”

“God, Y/N.” He moaned. “You are going to be the death of me…” The way he was so affected by it, only fed the tingly feeling in my body, spreading it to my limps. The tension in my lower stomach now growing bigger with every second, causing me to produce a guttural moan. I clasped my hand in front of my mouth, my gaze wandering towards the open balcony door, but Thranduil didn’t seem to mind one bit. Quite the opposite. He let out a growl, taking my hand away again. “Let them hear. Let the whole kingdom know, that you are my wife.”

Shifting his weight, he leaned back on his ankles, raising my hips, while fucking me deeper into the mattress. The new position caused him to hit a particular deep spot inside of me, pushing all the air out of me in a loud cry of his name.

“Say it again, little one. Let everyone know who you belong to.” He darkly smiled at me, his thrust not faltering one second. “So beautiful. So perfect for me. Taking my cock so well.” Praising me, he didn’t let go of my eyes. “Keep your eyes on me, bereth. I want to see you, when you come.”

I couldn’t help but stare at him, mesmerized by him, not able to resist the drawl he put into calling me his wife. His wife. That title alone did things to my mind, I wasn’t prepared for. The knot in my stomach was about to pop, threatening to pull me under. And by the way he was grinning, he knew. Knew from the way I shivered, the way my walls fluttered around his length. “Go on, my starlight. Let go for me. I wanna see those beautiful eyes roll back in your head. Wanna feel how you twitch around me and make a mess on my cock.” He spurred me on. And on cue I came.

Hard.

My back arched from the bed, eyes rolling back inside my head. I shivered in his hands in pure bliss of my orgasm, his name ringing through the room loud enough, that I was sure even the soldiers standing guard on the southern entrance were able to hear me. This orgasm was hard and fast, crushing into me like a rogue wave. Thranduil still kept his pace, thrusting into me, roughly praising me: “That’s it, darling. Ride it out. You are doing so good. Looking so fucking beautiful.” And I could feel my cum leak on his lap, drawing lush sounds from my core.

“Meleth!” I cried out, now completely kicked out of reality.” Crying out in desperation I reached out for him. Thranduil gave into my pleading, leaning forward again, pressing me down with his full body, effectively caging me in between his hot chest and soft mattress. “Yes…” I mewled, wrapping my legs around his waist, feeling him thrust much deeper into me. I was again babbling absolutely unfiltered: “Don’t stop, meleth. Makes me feel safe. So good. Thank you.”

“Of course, darling. Everything for you.” His voice sounded strained and I realized that he was close as well. “Its okey. You can let go.” I tried to get the words out straight, but another moan rippled through me, him groaning, desperately gripping a pillow. “No. I am not finished with you. I want you to come with me.” The pure determination and love in his words, striking me deeply, so that I couldn’t help but, whimper again. I earned a soft bite on my shoulder, followed by more praises: “Fuck yes… I love it when you do that. Taking me so well, moaning for me in such beautiful tones.”

Sneaking a hand between us, he pressed two fingers on my clit, sloppily rubbing circles over it. I clenched around his cock as an answer, goosebumps spreading over my skin, as he forced the fire to burn up in my body once again. A shiver ran down my spine, my walls fluttering around his cock, my legs wrapping around him even tighter. It spurred him on to fuck me even harder, his fingers moving faster, the sloppy kisses on my neck now closer to love bites than anything else. I started to shake uncontrollably, my body overwhelmed by the desire and stimulation that he had and still was administrating.

“I got you.” He rasped out and it was all I needed to hear. I came again, succumbing to a shivering mess underneath him, clamping down on his cock. “Fuck, Y/N.” He groaned and I could feel him twitch inside of me. The feeling of his hot seed shooting up my core made me whimper desperately and I couldn’t help myself but to think about what it would feel like to carry his child. Slowing down his pace, he rode out our orgasms, smothering every bit of skin with wet kisses. He was breathing hard, trying his best to catch his stance again.

Pressing me close to himself, he rolled onto his back and I was now lying on top of him. “You did so good, meleth nin. Took me so well. I promise I will always love and protect you. You are everything to me, the only thing I would give away everything I own for without batting an eye.” Listening to his sweet ramblings, I let the tears roll from my cheeks, cherishing his love and the sweet intimate moment between us.

To my dismay, it was interrupted far too quickly, when I felt the mixture of my slick and his seed trickling out of me. Wriggling in his arms, I tried to find a comfortable spot, but the stickiness just got worse. He was quick to realize what was the problem. Pressing a kiss to my head, he rolled around again, getting up from the bed. “Stay there. I will get something to get you cleaned up.”

I just watched him scramble through the room and come back with a bowl of water and a wash cloth. He looked so incredible hot like this. His hair messy and disheveled. Eyes still glowing with desire. And when he saw his cum seeping out of me, I believed to see his gaze grow even darker. I sighed loudly, catching his look with mine: “How was I ever able to deny me such pleasures…?” He laughed at my words, slowly sinking to the bed and cleaning me up with soft little touches. “From now on you will never have to. Whenever you need me, feel free to come and get me.”

“Even when you are in a meeting?” I asked and he smirked at me: “Especially then.”

[lemon-russ]

More lore for my insane porn.

Why am I doing this? Does human pet smut need a backstory? If there were a merciful god, wouldn't I be stopped? Some things are never answered. The important thing is I am having fun ✨

Mortarion x F!Reader (prequel 2? Part 3??)

Previous || Next

CW: None for this specific thing. Many for the first one. Many for the future of whatever this is.

TAGS (no one participated in the prayer circle to stop me so it continues): @sleepyfan-blog @undeaddream @scriberye @lisikk @moodymisty

“Go on, pick.”

Mortarion holds you out at arms length, pointing you at a display of items in colors you couldn’t name, so bright and varied it made your head start to swim.

“Pick?” You parrot, “pick… what? What are they?”

You hear a small huff behind you. “They’re toys. Weren’t you saying you were bored?”

It had been boring. After a week of toting you around, quizzing you on your world, crops, government systems, and various other minutia, you found out that your world did in fact have a ruler, unbeknownst to a simple farmer like yourself, and had happily agreed to join the imperium of man, as it was apparently called.

All Mortarion asked for in payment was you.

“You entertain me.” Was all he had offered as explanation.

And thus you had been stuck in his quarters for two weeks, losing your mind at the lack of work to do. You’d taken up trying to draw, but that only entertained so long. You tried to read, but you were barely literate in your own tongue, let alone what your master called “high gothic”. What use did a farmer have for reading? You’d tried to clean up, but there was barely anything in the room to tidy.

You refocus on the colorful display, reaching out to touch one of the bright objects. ”It’s really soft...” You say, picking up one of the toys. It vaguely looks like some sort of animal, furry with stylized ears, but beyond that you can’t imagine a use for the thing.

“How is it a toy?” You ask, turning to try and look at your new masters face over your shoulder.

He frowns slightly. “What were toys on your planet?”

“Wooden blocks, mostly. Or the Hoop game.” You say, then add with a fond smile, “and dolls, made of water-reeds.”

He sighs. “Well, think of these as the… reed dolls. They are stuffed animals, you’re supposed to find them pleasant.”

You look back to the unnaturally bright creature in your hands. “what color is this?”

You yelp as you are dropped to your feet, stumbling a little.

Mortarion turns you around by the shoulder, face grimacing in disbelief. “I don't enjoy being teased.” He huffs.

You frown. “What-”

“You know purple.” He snaps, but it sounds less angry and more desperate. “You cannot tell me you don't know the color purple.”

You look at the thing in your hands. If you absolutely had to answer, life or death, what color it was, you'd only be able to say not red but not blue.

You look back up to see mortarion's face more stern. “your planet was quite brown and hazy, I suppose.” He said. “I can… understand that.” For a moment you see something flicker behind his gaze, but it is gone before you can guess it.

You tilt your head in a little confusion, intending to ask what he meant, but are turned back to the display instead. Mortarion leans over you to start pointing at the soft creatures.

“Purple.” He says, pointing at the one you held. “Pink, blue, orange…”

You pout. “I know blue-” you point at the pointy eared alien toy, “That's not blue. Blue has more grey in it.”

He sighs. “No, your rivers were not blue, they were just the only thing on that forsaken dirt ball that had a slight hint of blue in it. This is blue.” he says, picking up the bright, smiling creature and handing it to you.

Suddenly, you're being hoisted again, and tucked under the massive man's arm. “you're getting those two, I have chosen for you.” he grumbles. You think you catch him grumble something about doesn't know purple under his breath.

He forces you to pick out a blanket as well, as you'd been complaining about being chilly sleeping on the floor at night. That was true, but you more mean that it is a hard, metal floor, and wanted a bed. You had asked for some straw to weave yourself a proper mattress, but only got an annoyed look in response. He tossed you a pillow to sleep atop instead.

You chose a blanket in pink. You know pink too, but this one is an almost pastel, dusty version that you've never seen in nature. It was pleasant, and didn't hurt your eyes like the other new colors. Plus, it was quilted and full of feathers. He didn’t seem to mind buying something so lavish, so you figure you may as well be comfortable.

When you're finished shopping, Mortarion opens the large satchel he'd taken you out of his room in. You frown, looking up over the toys and blankets in your arms.

“Can't I just walk in…?” You ask.

He presses his mouth to a line. “No.”

You mimic the expression. “I promise I won't try to run again…” you say, referring to the ill fated attempt you'd made to avoid going into the belly of the flying beast when he'd first taken you.

He rolls his eyes. “No. In. And be quiet. I don't want my sons to see you.”

You sigh, shuffling up to the large bag and tossing your new toys inside first. “Can't you just tell them I am some sort of field hand?”

He shakes the bag opening at you. “No. We don't have those, and I don't want them getting strange ideas. In.”

“Stranger than this…?” You mumble to yourself as you crawl into the bag, curling up and situating yourself.

He peers down at you through the opening. “Don't talk back. And there's nothing strange about having a….” He glances away and back quickly, frowning. “A personal serf.”

Your scrunch your brow. “Serf…? But I don't do anything-”

Your words are cut off as he cinches the bag closed and hoists you up, making you squeak in surprise and have to scramble to reposition yourself where you can breathe.

“I said, don't talk back.” He grumbles, setting off on a quick pace that makes you jostle and swing as he walks.

[minty-drop]

“Collector! Hey buddy, you ok?”

“Collector?”

Colourful stars, sparking with shine scattered across the walls. Searching, looking and digging there corners into the slits between the ivory. Worry swallowed the collector whole, nagging into his gut like a piercing blade.

“King!”

The star child shouted, turning to face the canine like creature, a titan who’s yet to fully grow, something they both had in common.

“I can’t find them. I don’t want to play this game anymore!”

He didn’t like how long this was taking, they were impatient, and did not like loosing games. But at this moment, he didn’t care if he lost.

He just wanted his ‘parent’ beside them again.

“M-maybe there back in our room? They could have switch spots”

“That’s cheating!!”

Rattling the walls like a earthquake, the force of the shout bouncing off the wall.

But he was right? Maybe they did go back?

Swiftly the child’s hand waved across, a motion to quick for the titan to catch before he as-well was thrown on top of its flat surface, the hum buzzing from the star present with the patter of feet next to him.

A game of hide n seek, a classic, a game where one would seek and the other would hide. A simple yet challenging game of who can stay hidden until the end.

And you were quite good at it.

It felt like hours ago you had watch the collectors feet drop off the bed, the counting of numbers stoping that erupted into giggles. The collector was good at hide n seek, and from what you’ve seen, was very good to the point you could only assume he had found king in under afew minutes when the star child had began to run around with an extra pair of feet right next to him.

They teamed up on you. Little sneakers…..

But at this point you didn’t really care, you were having fun with the children who you were to constantly accompany in every waking minute, sure it was tiring but it was fun. And in these moment you got to see them interact, giggling and planing there next ideas that were childish yet entertaining to hear. It was perfectly normal because after all,they were children. Maybes it’s because you were no longer a small child, the childish nature still living in you but as time passed by, you have matured by much and by the time you had met king and later met the collector through the events of the eclipse, you had began to become much like the parental figure of the group. You missed the others, and you wanted them here with you, for the collector to see what he is doing is wrong, but there was only so much you could do. The kid was young with immense power, but as time went on, you’ve come to see them as a young child you could look after and maybe then, all of you would be able to thrive.

But who am I kidding, nothing like that is easy to get.

You first heard the hum of the star like transportation, then the mumbling of the two children. The collectors feet hopped off the star along with the fluffy paws of king. From all you could see, the collector made his way to the bed you were currently under, inspecting the tossed blankets that you made previously made to look like someone was underneath the warm fabric. It was a risky move.

But his ankles were just in reach of your hands.

With a small snicker, you reached out and snatched onto the small godlike child’s ankles, causing the said child to jump up in surprise, hoping all the way over to the other side of the room like a scarred bunny.

“WHAT IS THAT WHAT IS THAT KINGGGGG”

“I DONT KNOW WHAT WAS THAT”

Curiously the collector had slowly walked back over to the bed, creeping up before lifting the whole bed up with his hand effortlessly.Laying there defenceless you could only do one thing.

“SURPRISE???”

Waving your hands like a mad man.

It took the collector a minute before he began to laugh, flying up in the air up and around before landing back down on the soft carpet.

“OHHH THAT WAS SO FUN. WE SHOULD PLAY THAT SO MANY MORE TIME! 1000 MORE TIMES!!!”

You chuckled.

“Anytime collector”

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is That?: Alpine

Summary: Y/N goes back to work, and comes across a curious creature on her way home.

Bucky Masterlist | Series Masterlist

"Thank you for today, Y/N," her manager smiled, as Y/N packed up the last of her belongings.

"That's alright," Y/N replied, setting her bag on her shoulder.

Just as her manager was going to say something else, the phone started to ring in its cradle. "I'll see you Thursday," her manager waved and picked up the phone.

Y/N left the shop and made her way down the street. She had always been a fast walker (thanks to the height of Bucky, she always had to run to catch him up). She weaved her way in and out of pedestrians.

Considering she was small as well, it also made it easier to avoid people and their bags.

As she stood at the crossing, waiting for the signal to cross. She spotted a little girl standing next to her, staring up at her with large eyes. "Hello."

The little girl's mother looked downtown her daughter then at Y/N. "I'm sorry, it's not often she stares at people like this."

Y/N shakes her head. "No, she's OK. There must be something about me she is curious about," she tells her, making sure she had her balance and crouched down in front of the little girl. "Are you alright?"

All of a sudden, the little girl had gone very shiny as she grabbed a hold of her mother's coat and looked down at her shoes.

The two women chuckled as Y/N stood back up.

"What's that?" The little girl asked, pointing at the engagement ring.

"Thats my engagement ring," Y/N told the little girl. "My husband gave me this, and he told me he wants to spend the rest of his life with me."

"The rest of your life with one person?" The little girl looked up at her.

Y/N nodded. "Yeah, and I told him I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, and we got married."

Y/N was nearly home, as it had just started raining, when the sounds of meowing stopped her in her tracks.

She looked around and caught sight of a box moving in a nearby alleyway. "What on Earth?" She made her way down the alleyway to the upturned box and revealed a very young cat.

She didn't know what kind of despicable person would drop a cat so young to find for itself in the freezing cold rain. She could only hope it hadn't been sitting outside all that long, as its fur was nearly pristine white, but it was so skinny.

"Hello," she cooed, crouching down, holding her hand out to the kitten. The creature took a few cautious steps forward, taking many sniffs of Y/N's fingers. The cat must have thought she was trustworthy enough and pushed her head underneath Y/N's fingers.

Y/N cooed over the little kitten, making a fuss over the cat before eventually being able to scoop her up into her arms. The kitten made a little bit of a protest, only to be soothed by cuddles.

"Right," she says to the kitten. "Let's go home."

Usually, Bucky would be waiting for her in their apartment, but he had been pulled away for an important mission with Sam and wouldn't be come until the early hours of the morning.

Well, that is what she was expecting.

She was in the middle of giving the kitten a soap bath when a key was put into the lock, and the door opened.

"Doll?" Bucky called, not seeing his wife sat on the sofa watching her TV shows. "Doll, where are you?"

"James?" Y/N looked over her shoulder to where she could see her husband setting his heavy gear down. She looked between her husband and the kitten and then back at Bucky. "What are you doing home, I thought you wouldn't get back until the early hours."

Bucky walked around the corner and into the kitchen and finally saw what his wife was doing. "Doll?" She replied with a hum. "What is that?"

"What's what?" She sometimes played dumb, just to wind him up a little.

"Don't play this game with me, doll," Bucky walked over to her, so he was nearly plastered to her side. He lifted a vibranium finger. "This creature in your hands."

She stopped her scrubbing and looked down at the kitten. "I found her."

"You found her?"

"Mmhm."

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his wife. "And where did you find this cat?"

Y/N turned her head to look at him. "In a cardboard box, in an alleyway, block from here."

Bucky looked from his wife to the young cat in her hands and then back at his wife again. "Are you sure this isn't someone's pet?" In response to this, Y/N rinsed off the soap from the kitten and lifted her to show Bucky. Despite the kitten's white coat, the poor thing was practically skin and bones. "Bloody hell," this was something he had picked up from the war.

"We have to keep her, James."

Bucky sighed looking between his wife and the cat. He could see by the look in his wife's eyes and the way the cat is currently licking her hand - they had already bonded, and there was no separating them.

"Alright, doll. I'll go get some food and some dishes for..." he trailed off, waiting for his wife to fill in the gap for the kitten's name.

"Why would you guess I have..." she was now the one to trail off as Bucky was looking at her expectantly. "Alpine."

Bucky blinked a few times. "After the Alpine Ridge, I fell from?"

"No! First of all, I didn't not know that is where you fell. And secondly, the box I found her had a silhouette of a mountain range on it, and I remembered Steve talking about a mission you once went to during the war. He never told me it was the one you fell from."

Bucky nodded. "OK, doll. I shall go get Miss Alpine some wet food, immediately," he presses a kiss to her cheek and makes his way to leave their apartment. "And what have I told you about calling me James?"

"I shall call you James as much as you call me doll."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

HIII I LOVE YOUR SEB X READER FIGHTING OVER THE BLACKLIGHT and wanted to request smth similar to it? Mutant!reader still, ( maybe the same as the other fic) who helps the Expendable(s)/MC much more than sebs when explaining how each monsters works (giving more info than sebs) and sebs getting annoyed by it? especially if mutant!reader sort of roams alongside with then expendable(s) and is seen chatting with them (bc maybe mutant reader misses being human?) until sebs pulls reader away to complain abt it (how reader shldnt be so relaxed in this situation)

Aw thank you! I'm happy you liked that one ^^

.........

"So you keep dying to creatures that are classified as an Angler, but none of them are the Angler itself, and he just...refuses to tell you how to avoid them?"

"Um, yeah..pretty much. The file said they were only discovered after the lockdown, so maybe he doesn't know-"

"Oh, he knows damn well how they behave. He's just lazy and expects you to figure it out on your own. Which one got you last time?"

The expendable abruptly stopped in their tracks, trying to recount their most recent untimely demise, while you--one of Urbanshade's mutant experiments--waited for them to gather their thoughts.

You two were just casually walking down one of the blacksite's long corridors....or rather, they were walking and you were slithering.

The only reason they were still alive and didn't have their gear detonated was all thanks to your own little scrambling machine. It was attached to your belt, being a lot easier to carry compared to that massive thing Sebastian lugged around.

You were lucky to find them during the chaotic lockdown, and now you were able to chat with expendables without worrying about HQ finding you and/or killing them for talking to you.

Even though you hated Urbanshade for turning you into this creature, you couldn't hate the folks who were just trying to earn their freedom. You knew nothing of why they were even here in the first place--and quite frankly you didn't care to know. There's no point to it.

You were once a sociable human being, and this was how you could still pretend you were.

Of course, that proved difficult as many expendables would rather run, use the flash beacon, or hide in the nearest locker whenever you showed your face. But you reassured them you mean no harm and just wanted to talk.

After overhearing a few grumble about Sebastian treating them like idiots due to their recent deaths (especially with Wall Dwellers), you took it upon yourself to give them better advice.

Advice that would actually stick with them.

While the documents mostly explained the monsters' behaviors clearly, information on the Angler's variants was severely lacking. That was understandable and something you were more than happy to elaborate on should they ask.

"Oh, I remember now...it was some big..creepy frog thing. It had a lot of teeth."

"Ah, that's Froger. She's different, alright. And a smart girl at that." You chuckled. "I've been watching her movements for a while. Wanna know a secret?"

"Sure...do I need to pay you data or..?"

"No. I don't need that stuff."

"Oh..okay."

"Anyways, you know how frogs like to hop around? Well, she does something similar. She'll pass you by, and then do another sweep of the room because she knows you're there. Then after awhile she'll hop back to wherever you are to catch you off guard. Does that make sense?"

"That...actually does. I did get caught off guard the third time because I thought she was gone. Um..thank you." They smiled a little bit.

"Of course. All you need to do is make sure she passes you thrice, and you'll get to keep your pretty little head." With a tiny smile, you patted the top of their head for encouragement. "Now I have business to attend to. I can't chat for too long, or else-"

"I think you've chatted with them long enough, [y/n]."

Blinking, you saw Sebastian pop his head out through a nearby vent, frowning at you.

"Ah. Why hello, Sebastian." You smiled innocently, tilting your head.

"We have a erm..business meeting, remember?" His eyes shifted to the expendable, who seemed utterly bewildered at his presence outside the shop. "If you'll excuse us."

"Yes, please excuse us...and don't let my advice go to waste!" You hummed, bidding them farewell before following Sebastian into the vent, making sure it closed behind you.

For a few moments more, they stood there in silence.

Until the lights in the room flickered and made them dash to the nearest possible hiding spot.

And of course...it was Froger.

.........

"That's my job, you know."

"Well you kinda suck at it." Flicking your tail, you climbed onto the stack of crates within Sebastian's shop, smirking up at your fellow fish monster. "If you're tired of meeting them in the same place when they die, at least give them better advice."

He just turned to face you, looking almost offended.

"You think Urbanshade is paying me to spoon-feed their expendables every tiny detail?! Should I start making Powerpoints for every damn thing that crawls their way?!" He spat.

"..all I'm saying is that calling them "morons" and "idiots" isn't going to help them get very far."

"And chatting them up isn't going to help us get very far, either." With a small huff, he slithered over to a desk cluttered with documents and other assets previous expendables have delivered to him, sifting through the piles. "We can't let them reach the crystal. Not yet. We need more time."

"Ugh, how much more time do we possibly need?" Taking a small DNA vial, you examined it closely between your fingers, admiring its blue glow. "I can only be your little scavenger fish for so long. This place is bound to run out of data. I say let 'em take the crystal, and while everyone at Urbanshade is distracted by that-"

"Jeez that sounds like a GREAT plan...FOR GETTING US KILLED!!" He snarled, swiping the glass vial from your hands. "And be careful with this! It could shatter and explode all over my wares! And I'll be making you pay for them!"

Normally, his anger would scare even the toughest expendable, but you weren't fazed in the slightest and just chuckled. "Woah, no need to get your fins in a twist, Sebby. I was only kidding."

"See? That's exactly your problem...you're too relaxed over all of this." He gently set the glass vial down like it was a baby deep sea bunny. "Those prisoners aren't our buddies, you know."

"I'm not trying to make friends with any of them. I'd just like to see them live a bit longer. It's interesting to hear about their experiences. Plus, they're willing to fork over any data they might have on 'em. So I'm completely focused on our mission."

"Still, we're trying to get out of this place before they terminate the Expendable Protocol. And that means getting out of here before anyone reaches the crystal-"

"And we will. I promise they won't get any closer just because I told them how to evade that dumb frog." You huffed, slithering off the crates and grabbing the nearby lantern. "I'll go pay Painter a visit. See what data he's gathered so far. You mind if I borrow this?"

"...why would I care?"

"Huh..impressive."

"What?"

"Oh nothing. I'm just glad we've moved past fighting over blacklights like toys." You grinned cheekily.

Sebastian's eye twitched. "I wish you'd stop reminding me of that.."

"Well you gave me the marks. So it's hard to forget." You chuckled, crawling into the vent and making your way to the heavy containment sector.

'They're probably gonna go chat up some other expendable.' He thought, annoyed as he went back to organizing his wares.

"Heads up."

"Who said tha---OH SHIT!!"

His ear fins perked up at the distant sounds of your shouting, which was quickly followed by a loud static buzz and a red light that he noticed sweeping through the adjacent room.

Seconds after that, your head popped back through the vent, your expression bewildered. "SEBASTIAN WHO THE HELL WAS THAT?!!"

"Oh? I thought you knew everybody here." He snickered. "He's just another acquaintance. Don't worry. You probably won't see him again."

"...I better not. Bye."

"Bye~"

[rascalentertainments]

Wish Granted Magic System ✨✨✨

Given that we're two chapters away from the halfway point of the story, its about to time I delve into the magic system of this AU.

So magic in this AU is powered through emotion. The more a person feels a certain emotion, the more it affects the magic they use daily. Let's start off with...

Magnifico and Amaya's Magic: 🐺🐍✨

Both of them have studied magic for years, together and apart. However, they still developed their own techniques to use it.

• Magnifico's magic is fueled by negativity and hate. (its a bit obvious, lol) He's been searching for a way to have ultimate power for years. And each time he's failed, that disappointment has fueled him. The angrier he is towards somebody or someone, the stronger it is. He learned to harness and control magic since his early 20's, and while it was substantial for the time, his desire to have more kept growing and growing until it became impossible to ignore. So much so that when he destroys his own home by accident, he's completely blind to his own destruction and blames the books for not giving him enough information. So he turns to dark magic.

•Dark magic gave Mags the boost he needed, but its still not enough. The more he becomes paranoid losing his power, and the more he gained power, he became more spiteful towards non-magic users. As Magnifico got older, his powers were solely used selfishly, under the guise of it helping others to get whatcha wants. Mags' magic is incredibly destructive when its not controlled, which is why Amaya keeps him in check. He could easily kill anyone with a snap of his fingers, or crushing a person's wish. He completely ignores the face that its slowly making him sick as well.

•Mags' magic specifically works well in deception, especially when it comes to stealing people's wishes, which is the polar opposite of Star's magic. And Star's magic terrifies him in a way. Mags uses magic on these performances during the Wish ceremonies to deceive people into thinking giving their wishes to him is a great thing. Its kind of like a parlor trick to hide the truth. However, mo matter how much he magic uses, its nothing compared to a star's. In fact, when Asha's father details his perceived connection to the stars, and how he feels they give him the power and inspiration to help others in his life, that's when the king got the idea to catch the magic of a star itself. He could finally achieve ultimate power! But he had to get rid of that damn philosopher first and make it look like an accident....

•Amaya's magic works with manipulation, both mental and physical. While she doesn't use her powers to the extent of her husband, she does aid him through the use of her potions. As a shout-out to Yzma, she keeps a collection of various potions in a large cabinet, and uses them when creating concoctions to give him the power boost to take a star from the skies. The other kinds deal with changing one living thing into another. Most of them were also animal experimentations, either to change unsavoury animals into ones she desired, or even changing their natural habits an entirely animal's, making said animal like other creatures.

• The Queen has always used her words of persuasion to get what she wanted. In most cases, she used her magic to make her words influence the minds of others. Amaya uses this to put the people at ease when they asked too many questions or started to worry about their wishes. She even used this on visiting royals from other countries, so that they didn't see or hear anything connected to the people's misfortune or rumors of the two being evil. This is why she was able to get into Star's head in chapter 6. She paid close attention to the pair's behavior around each other, and seeing part of herself and Magnifico in the two wanting to protect each other, she turned it against him. Adding a little bit of magic to it, he was completely influenced by her words.

•Amaya has used magic on Sabor, but not to harm him. (Sometimes she did heal him if he was sick or injured) Only so she could use him as a sort of watchdog, keeping an eye on any suspicious activity or possible traitors. (Which Sabor fully accepted) She created the "Sight Beyond Sight" type of spell so she could see what Sabor sees when he returns. This is how she trusted him to find the Hamlet without raising suspicion.

Star/Cosmo's magic 🌟😁

This fun ball of energy is indeed powerful, just as Magnifico feared, but he can't exactly do everything he wants. He has limits, which is mostly by his own imagination and a dash of classic Disney magic.

• Star's magic is fueled by all his emotions, but mostly joy. It can change depending on his emotions. When he's happy, all his magic reflects it. Joyful magic works on Disney classic energy, so talking animals, moving furniture, shape shifting into various creatures and even his human form are all homages to the past films. He can't turn into different people, so this form he usually is in is it. Mostly because he's had a wish to be a human on Earth for so long, he just took his astral look and applied human characteristics to it. Its also rear unusual for a star nomad to get attached to one place instead moving from place to place. As for other emotions, he feels them like the fairies from Peter Pan: one at a time. When he's sad, he's miserable. When he's angry, its absolute fury. But the longer he stays on Earth, they start to get more complex dealing with humans, since we can feel several emotions at once. Which is also why its a slow process for him to realize his love for Asha is different from his love for Earth.

•Like the rest of the star nomads, he has flight and its powered by thinking happy thoughts. That's incredibly easy for him, so it's why he can fly so high and quickly. However, he starts to slow down after Magnifico stabs him and takes a little of his power in chapter 7. He's only just a little faster than a human, and it kind of bothers him not being able to move as quickly. And he starts getting used to walking, which is unusual for a star nomad to do instead of flying.

• Star's shapeshifting can be done as long as he can clearly think of the animal he wants. He's seen animals from all over the world, but the catch is that he can't perfectly replicate one. He's always yellow with a white tuft of hair so he doesn't blend in with other animals. Plus Star can add or exaggerate different features as well. He can't turn into extinct animals like dinosaurs because he's never seen them.

There will be another post explaining more about the star nomads and how their different from "royal stars". It'll also come up later to explain why Star isn't a prince like most other Disney male leads. Its really the only insecurity he has.

And more art is coming, plus the Royal redesigns! Then I'll get started on chapter 9. 😉

Thanks for reading!

@oh-shtars @signed-sapphire @chillwildwave @your-ne1ghbor

@tumblingdownthefoxden @ishadow246 @annymation @kenihewa

@natsuki208 @uva124 @cocoapowderpictures @emptyblog7

@lazytitans-world

[silver-cyn]

Hualian Kiss-Mas @here4hualian Read it on A03 here.

Day 14: Kissing in secret

“Mutants. It’s imperative that we remember they’re not like us.” Hua Cheng presses Xie Lian against the wall, their forms so close together not a breath of air can pass between them. They kiss with all the heat of lovers too long separated, and with the desperation of those who know they’ll soon be parted again.    

“San Lang,” Xie Lian says between kisses and caresses. He’s drunk on Hua Cheng and doesn’t want to stop, but there’s something important he has to say. 

Xie Lian pulls back, staring into Hua Cheng’s lone remaining eye that clearly gives him away for the mutant he is. Red, red so beautifully red, glowing like a flame in the night, enchanting and utterly irresistible.

“I understand it’s difficult. They can look like us, talk like us, even act like us. But it’s a lie. They’re not like us at all. They aren’t…human.” “Gege…” Hua Cheng urges gently and Xie Lian blushes at his own distraction.  Then he cups Hua Cheng's face tenderly between both hands and kisses him tenderly on the lips.  “I’m leaving with you and the others tonight,” Xie Lian says calmly.  Hua Cheng’s eye widens, his lips part just slightly and his face is an open display of everything he’s feeling. He swallows hard before swooping in for a fierce kiss that buckles Xie Lian’s knees and leaves Xie Lian clinging to him. “Gege, are you sure? Your entire future is –” “ – nothing without you in it.” Xie Lian says breathlessly, hugging Hua Cheng close. “All mutants are dangerous creatures that must be eliminated.”

“And I...I can’t be there any longer. The government is already doing horrible things: snatching people up and holding them prisoner just because they’re born with abilities that mark them differently.  And it’s only going to get worse if we don’t stop them. San Lang, you’ve heard about the weapons they’re building, haven’t you? They call them — ” 

“Sentinels,” Hua Cheng says quietly. Xie Lian nods, his arms unconsciously tightening around Hua Cheng. They can both easily picture the powerful giants of steel, metal and ruthless intent to come, but neither imagined that time would arrive…

…this very night.

“SURRENDER MUTANTS!!”  Hua Cheng instinctively pushes Xie Lian behind him as the ceiling is cleanly ripped off. Two giant metallic robots zero in on them with red soulless eyes and palms extended. “San Lang!” Xie Lian only has time to grab Hua Cheng’s arm before his vision turns red.

“We must remain vigilant. We must not be deceived or confused by the ties that bind us once we learn their true nature. For if we allow ourselves to be deceived, we will surely befall the same fate…”

A hand slaps Xie Lian’s picture on the whiteboard and all eyes are drawn to the bold red lettering stamped across his face: “DECEASED.” 

“...as our dear comrade Xie Lian.”

Jun Wu stares out at the small council of his country’s most powerful leaders and generals. Many had opposed Xie Lian’s ideas on mutant and human relations, but all had been touched by his genuine kindness and care. A collective flinch visibly ripples through the group at the sight of his photo. 

“He’s dead? How?” Feng Xin asks, body utterly still in his seat. 

Ling Wen’s face is unusually pale, but her hands are steady as she tacks another photo onto the whiteboard and recites the information from memory. “His mutant alias is Crimson Rain. Real name: unknown. Ability: able to convert potential energy to kinetic energy with explosive results. His current status: alive and on the run.”  “Xianle was unique in that he saw mutants as no different from us. He was the only one on this council who saw them as humans, and look what they did to him.” Jun Wu makes sure to catch everyone’s gaze as he points first at Xie Lian's and then at Crimson Rain's photo. “Crimson Rain manipulated and used him to fulfil his own plans and by the time Xianle realized what was happening, it was too late. After getting what he wanted, Crimson Rain murdered him outright and fled the area.”

“Crimson Rain? Isn’t he – ” 

“ – the one who’s been attacking government holding facilities and freeing those other mutant criminals?” “He’s killed many of our people.” “Doesn’t he have his own team of mutants?” Jun Wu holds up a hand and the room quiets immediately. “Xianle’s loss will be felt for a long time. We won’t do him the disservice of wallowing in our grief. Instead, we’ll find and eliminate Crimson Rain, and every mutant like him.” “How can we? Their abilities are as varied as they are powerful. Weather manipulation, super strength, mind-readers and shapeshifters.  How can we defeat enemies like that?” Ming Yi asks, crossing his arms.

“I think it's time we officially bring in the Sentinels,” Mu Qing says. He briefly holds up a manila folder before passing it to Shi Wudu, his fellow councilmember. “I know Xie Lian was against them, but we can’t be soft-hearted about this. If they can do this to him, think what they can do to us.” Mu Qing’s quiet words bring everyone’s worst fears to mind.  He turns back to Jun Wu. 

“It’s your program. Tell us everything about it, and exactly what we need to do to implement it as soon as possible.”

And on the inside, Jun Wu smiles. 

_________________

Ming Yi slides into the car and Yin Yu closes the door behind him. The soundproof car and tinted windows immediately do their wonders by easing his stress headache. “Sir,” Yin Yu states quietly from the front. It’s not a question, but Ming Yi hears it all the same as he leans back against the seat. “Crimson Rain really does have the devil’s luck,” Ming Yi says. He runs a hand through his hair, fluidly shifting forms from the government’s top trusted security personnel to He Xuan a.k.a. Blackwater, Crimson Rain’s second in command.  “Hope he can spare some for the rest of us with what the council’s planning to do. Otherwise, we’ll all end up dead like that Xie Lian guy.” Without warning, He Xuan lunges forward, hand swinging out in a deadly, blade tipped arc. He grunts, body crashing into what feels like a brick wall, before he’s guided gently, but firmly, back onto his seat.

“Easy there,” a familiar voice says. “What the fuck?! Xie Lian?” He fumbles on the light and immediately feels his headache return. Sitting across from him is Hua Cheng and very much alive former councilmember, Xie Lian, not quite sitting after having intercepted He Xuan's attack. He opens his palm to reveal He Xuan’s crushed weapon, blade and hilt melded together like some new modern work of art. “Sorry about that Ming Yi…ah, I mean He Xuan,” Xie Lian says, smiling sheepishly. He tries to hand it back to He Xuan, who doesn’t take it, just continues to stare, speechless, at Xie Lian. Xie Lian exchanges a look with Hua Cheng, who laughs, takes the crumpled blade and flicks it at He Xuan. It flies across the space between them, glowing red with deadly energy that explodes inches in front of He Xuan’s face who just barely manages to block it in time. “Asshole,” He Xuan mutters but it does the trick. “So let me guess? You –” He nods at Xie Lian. “ – have been working with this guy.”  He jerks his head at Hua Cheng. “The top military brass send their sentinels out to test run their new weapons and waste our fearless leader. Your powers manifest, saving him and the newly freed mutants that night. Did I miss anything?” “Just one thing,” Xie Lian says, scratching his nose. “What did I – oh.”  He Xuan stops. Everything clicks into place the moment Xie Lian sits back down.

On Hua Cheng’s lap.

He Xuan swears. “Are you fucking kidding me?! You two? Now? With everything that’s going on?!” He Xuan angles his head to look past the two lovebirds. “Yin Yu, did you know about this?” Yin Yu says nothing, but the partition rolling up quietly says it all. “Unbelievable?! Do you have any idea how stupid, how dangerous…” He Xuan trails off when both men look at him: Hua Cheng, arms curled protectively around Xie Lian. Xie Lian, holding onto Hua Cheng with a white-knuckled grip, eyes always straying back to him for reassurance that he was still present. Still alive.  “Fuck.” Unconsciously, He Xuan’s fingers rub the pearl ring on his left hand.  He remembers being in love. He remembers, too, the pain of having it snatched away by a government with too much fear and too much power. 

He viciously shoves it all back down. 

It’s not his problem and it won’t be his pain to bear. “Alright. Okay. It is what it is,” He Xuan says, and takes one last deep breath. “So tell me star-crossed lovers. You got a plan? Or are we supposed to survive on your love and hope alone?” “Probably a little of all three,” Xie Lian says with a watery laugh. The partition slowly rolls back down. He Xuan catches Yin Yu’s gaze in the rearview mirror, then glances at Hua Cheng and Xie Lian, huddled close together, looking at once too strong and too weak with their obvious love for one another. He Xuan vehemently curses himself as he adds two more people (god, even Hua Cheng) to his very small list of “people to give a fuck about.” 

[xoxochb]

hi i saw you had requests open, i was wondering if you could write a connor x poseidon reader, maybe reader using their powers so they can explore under the sea?

also your writing is amazing and i think your titles are very creative!!

⋆·˚ ༘ * I fell for you like water

warnings: none!

pairing: connor stoll x daughter of poseidon

seven thirty in the morning. his wish is your command. you drag connor to the beach with you per request- or not. he had asked the previous night to meet your sea creature friends since you were able to communicate with them and you had been ecstatic to introduce him to them. the problem was he didn’t like to wake up early, you had to bribe him fifty dollars and a kiss to get him to visit the beach with you

the water was warm and you were grateful for the beaming sun rays shining on the ocean. what you were not grateful for however was connor’s inability to breathe underwater, three minutes was all he got while you- a daughter of poseidon- had all the time in the world. your begging and stubbornness was enough to get your father to grant him just this one day of oxygen underwater in exchange for a visit to his palace ever week which you gladly accepted

connor however had trouble accepting that poseidon would do this for him- it took you a second kiss to get him in the water with you. for the sake off him not throwing another fit you created a bubble on the ocean floor, although a third kiss was used to convince him it was safe

you smile at your sea friends around your bubble, seahorses, dolphins, a variety of fish and even a shark (connor still wonders how you made that happen)!

“that’s cordelia” you point to a clownfish on your left “she’s pregnant”

you catch sight of a pink seahorse “and that’s finn! he’s quite the player though, many children from many different women”

connor’s thumb rubs over your knuckles as he listened attentively to your silly sea creature stories, nodding after every word to make sure you know he’s listening

“I don’t know where hector is” your smile drops to a frown when you don’t see your shark friend

“is that the shark?” connor asks

you nod. but this a gasp you point to a sea turtle “delphine! she’s amazing, gives great boy advice”

a dolphin swims to the walls of your bubble and you realize almost immediately who it is

“rosemary, she lives with my dad” you wave at the creature and she musters up a small wave of her fin

you sat in your bubble for many hours. two or three? you lost track of time. you waited for hector to arrive, your favorite shark, connor had been most excited to meet him and you wouldn’t leave until he did

waiting, waiting. you wait for him. a large grin appears on your face when you catch sight of his tail

“there he is!”

the shark swims towards you

“that’s hector?”

“yes! come see”

you pull connor to the very edge of your bubble where he watches the shark with amazement

“holy shit you weren’t lying”

“of course not!”

you watch as your boyfriend attempts to make conversation with your sea friend, though you did most of the translating for him

you think you would have to bring him down here more often

[plainclothesdisaster]

Red Knight Chapter 6 - Masks

DP x DC | Dead on Main

Jason Todd encounters one Danny Fenton in the streets of Gotham and suddenly he's thrown into a world of ghosts and monsters. Will he embrace this life? Or will it just end up with him dead again?

Read on AO3 | Beginning | < Prev | Next >

---

Some nights later Jason was wrapping up some Red Hood business outside a local pub when he noticed something off about the ghosts. But not the curse ghosts— the regular spirits around Gotham that he’d started to see after his first encounter with Danny. Ever since he’d started fighting the curse ghosts with Danny, the regular crowd had stopped actively causing him trouble, but it didn’t change the fact that seeing all manner of bizarre and terrifying creatures that no one else did could be incredibly distracting. Like it was right now.

Dozens of ghosts of all sorts were running (flying, jumping, what have you) down the streets, away from something. A look in that direction didn’t reveal anything obviously wrong, and there were no sirens ringing. Regular people on the street were still just going about their business, so it couldn’t be that bad, right? He didn’t know enough about ghosts to know what could spook them like this. Jason, perhaps noble and perhaps stupid, set off in the direction they came from, toward whatever had made them run.

He followed the trail of fleeing ghosts and the growing sense of unease in his stomach. It led him downtown, under one of Gotham’s many bridges– a wide interstate overpass that let large shadows pool underneath. The few streetlights that worked did very little against the darkness.The unsettling energy he’d followed was so strong here it made him want to turn tail like all the other ghosts had. Every instinct said it would be unwise to stick around.

Then he recognized Danny’s voice. The clipped tones of the conversation made it instantly apparent he wasn’t catching up with a friend. From this distance, stationed behind a graffiti-covered concrete pillar, Jason couldn’t make out exactly what was being said.

He risked getting closer, turning invisible and maneuvering to the next column in. It was enough to finally parse the words of a voice he didn’t recognize, with a formal accent he couldn’t place.

“How much longer are you going to play this silly game?”

“I have a good reason for being here. An entity like this can’t be allowed to stay topside unchecked. You’re the ones who pointed it out, remember?”

“Irrelevant! You are stalling. the lesser kings grow restless.”

“You know I don’t give two shits about what those uptight raisins-“

“You are well aware that there are more important matters that need your attention. Your duty is to—“

“I don’t work for you.” Danny’s tone gained a dangerous timbre that sent a shiver down Jason’s spine. He caught his breath behind his teeth.

The warning also shut up the other speaker. The silence hung for a long moment. Then Danny spoke again.

“I will make an appearance in the Zone when I get a chance. Until then get lost.”

Jason caught a whorl of green in his peripheral and assumed it meant the other speaker obeyed Danny’s command. He had to fight his own instincts to abscond as well. He was certain if the words had been directed toward him he wouldn’t have been able to resist either.

He still wanted to bolt. He wondered if Danny had sensed him lurking there. That was a conversation he certainly was not supposed to hear, and the smart thing to do would be to get out of there before he got caught. But some of the uneasiness had faded from the atmosphere when the other speaker left, and Jason reminded himself that this was Danny. Danny wouldn’t hurt him.

Probably.

He came out from around the corner before he could chicken out, striding over like he’d just walked up. Danny brightened as soon as he saw him, which made Jason’s gut do a funny little flip.

“The ghosts are acting weird. Everything okay?” Jason kept his voice even.

“Oh, yeah,” Danny replied breezily, “Nothing to worry about.”

Lies. But Jason didn’t press even as he burned with curiosity. Better not to raise suspicion. Danny didn’t seem interested in questioning what Jason was doing here either, equally avoiding having to talk about the previous conversation.

“So.” Danny got that familiar conspiratorial look. “Since we’re already out here. Let’s go hunt some curses.”

//

A curse ghost gnawed on a gaudy statue of a golden bull in the financial district. The ticker on the outside of a gleaming skyscraper scrolled, reading some headline about record stock prices. A man slept on the bumpy ledge beneath the statue. He shivered as black goo, invisible to him, dripped down onto his side. The curse ghost loomed over him, the same shape as the bull, as if it were its shadow.

Then, without warning, Danny was on top of it. He whooped as the bull bucked, but he rode it rodeo style, holding on to its neck with one hand like some sort of gothic cowboy. Jason stared mutely, aborted plans replaced by incredulous disbelief. Maybe this was how Bruce had felt when he jumped into fights as Robin.

“Where the hell did you learn to fight?” Jason pulled his sword, positioning himself to help corral the beast away from the buildings.

“Self taught, mostly. Can’t you tell?” Danny wielded a whip of green energy in his off hand, snapping it at the bull’s sides when it got too close to anything breakable.

Of course Danny had no formal training. Nobody who had any sense of self preservation would fight with such reckless abandon.

“But you know what they say about grabbing the bull by the horns.” Danny did just that. Jason rolled his eyes. But a moment later he felt a buzz of power in the air and Danny wasn’t smiling anymore. He was focused on his hands, on the bull, almost like this stupid stunt actually had a purpose.

Then the bull let out a piercing shriek, twisted in a horrible convulsion, and launched itself sideways like a cannonball.

It crashed into the side of Gotham Central Bank, taking Danny with it completely through the stone brick wall. Alarms immediately started ringing. Shit. Jason jumped through the hole in the wall after them. With the amount of times this place had been targeted by rogues, Batman had it at the top of their surveillance priority. They had a matter of minutes before one of them showed up.

“We gotta go!” Jason shouted through the dust of falling rubble. “Fast!”

Danny faced off against the bull in the middle of the lobby. “Going! As fast! As I can!” He punctuated each phrase with a blast at the bull. Jason felt the power behind each one in his throat.

The curse dodged a blast. Then, as if Danny were a matador flashing his red cape, the bull charged.

Jason reacted before any thought surfaced. He strode once, twice, then swung his sword in a wide arc. It sliced through the curse ghost’s side, knocking it away from Danny and sending it sprawling to the marble floor.

Danny recovered quick enough to whip out a thermos and zap it up. Jason’s heart thudded. He’d panicked for a moment. He’d panicked when he thought that thing would hurt Danny.

“Thanks,” Danny tossed over his shoulder with an easy smile.

Jason nodded mutely.

He didn’t look after other people. Everyone was disposable and replaceable in this line of work. Bruce taught him that. He couldn’t start worrying after someone else’s life, not when they chose to risk it. Especially not someone who was practically a stranger.

But this wasn’t a stranger. This was Danny.

“We’ve got company,” Danny muttered, eyes toward the hole in the wall where they’d crashed in.

Spoiler stood in the gap, silhouetted by hazy moonlight. “You doing bank robberies now, Hood?”

He wouldn’t get any sympathy from Steph, but then again he hardly knew her. At least it wasn’t Tim. Or Bruce.

“Mind your business,” he snapped. “But no. You can check. Money’s all still there.”

“Right, right. And would he have anything to do with the giant hole in the wall?” She gestured to Danny, who gave a meek little wave. “Your new… partner?”

Danny choked on a chuckle at the same time as Jason barked, “Not my partner.”

Steph smirked. “Sure. Anyway, Batman is on his way, so you can explain it all to him.”

Danny froze, tension in every muscle. Jason shifted, angling himself in front of him.

“I’m actually gonna skip this session with Dr. Bats. So, if you’ll excuse us.”

Jason gestured to Danny with a tilt of his head, and Danny fell into step beside him as they bolted for the atrium stairs.

“Shit,” Steph hissed as she leapt after them. “Oracle, you tracking them?”

Fuck. Babs getting involved spelled signs of having their shit wrecked and on display for Batman to see before the sun rose. Jason lifted a hand to scan the frequencies on his helmet coms, hoping, halfheartedly, that he was still coded into their channel.

Batarangs whizzed past their heads as they careened up the stairs and burst out the doors onto a mid-level courtyard. They ran to a stone railing that looked over the street two stories below.

“This can be easy if you just answer our questions.” Steph appeared in the doorway as Jason turned. His eyes darted, scanning for options. Flat walls on either side of them. No good grapple point off the edge. They could go back the way they came- through Steph- but he wasn’t confident they could get past without having to hurt her, which. No, he wasn’t going to do that.

Beside him Danny practically bounced on his toes, his eyes doing the same dance. They had a lot more options for escape if they relied on Danny’s powers, but that meant outing him as meta-adjacent. That couldn’t happen— in that they both seemed to be in silent agreement.

“ETA 5.” Batman’s voice crackled through Jason’s helmet. They still used the old frequency after all.

“I have visual.” Oracle now. “Spoiler, keep him talking.”

“What are you doing here tonight, Hood?” Steph took a step closer, but she still maintained a healthy distance. She wouldn’t make a real move till backup arrived. Smart.

He just had to give Danny enough of a window to get out of sight. Then Danny could disappear for real, and Jason could deal with the Bats on his own. He just had to have hope that Danny had enough self preservation instincts to run when he had the chance.

“Who’s your friend?” Steph continued despite his silence.

“I’m Danny,” Danny replied, again with a chipper wave. Jason glared at him through his helmet.

“Danny, did Red Hood put you up to this?”

Danny snorted. “No. I mean, not really.”

Funny to think that Jason could make Danny do anything at all.

“It’s alright. We’ll make sure he doesn’t cause any more trouble.”

“That seems unlikely.” Danny threw him a glance.

“Shut up,” Jason hissed.

“We’ll take him from here.” Spoiler took another step forward. Batman would certainly swoop down at any second.

“Thanks for finally giving us an excuse to bring you to heel, Hood. I hear Arkham is real cozy this time of year.”

He shouldn’t be surprised, but he is. Of course he’d be treated like the other Gotham rogues. Foolish of him for expecting any better from the old man. He clenched a fist.

“Oh,” Danny stopped his fidgeting. The air around them went still. “Nah. I don’t think you will.”

Jason blanched. Danny couldn’t be stupid enough to use his powers now, could he?

“Losing visual.” Oracle’s voice crackled through static. “There’s– it’s some kind of interference.” Around them the landscaping lights in the courtyard flickered. Jason swallowed. Yes, it seemed, he could be that stupid.

“Danny, what–” Jason began, voice low, but before he could finish he felt a hand grab the back of his jacket. Suddenly he was invisible, and then suddenly he was weightless, and then suddenly he was flying. Spoiler shrunk beneath them as they crested the rooftops. Up he went over Gotham, dragged by Danny’s firm grip on his collar, streets whizzing past at dizzying speeds below.

Jason opened his mouth and a thousand things didn’t come out. He just gaped, strung along behind Danny like a fish on a line.

Cold wind pulled at Jason’s jacket as he glanced up at Danny. His face was a shadow, unreadable.

Danny didn’t slow down until he circled down onto their usual Crime Alley rooftop a few short minutes later. Jason felt gravity turn back on as Danny released him, gentle enough that he didn’t even stumble. Like he’d done this before.

“Fuck,” Jason half whispered.

“Sorry. Would have given you more warning, but it kinda would have defeated the purpose if she caught on to the escape plan.”

“No, that’s–” He rubbed a hand over his mask. “Now they know you’re a meta.”

“Not a meta.”

“Whatever. Now they know you’re someone they should know about. Once you are on the radar of the Bats you don’t just get off. They’re going to come after you.”

“They can try.”

Jason paced across the roof. “I’m serious. You should have gotten out when you could have. I could have dealt with them alone.”

“I couldn’t just leave you there.”

“It was stupid of you not to.”

Danny stood across from him, arms folded petulantly. “You cowing to their interrogation wasn’t a smart option either.”

“I would have been fine. I’m very good at lying. And if that was another bull pun I will strangle you.” Danny smiled sharply. Jason groaned. “And they wouldn’t really hurt me. Family, remember?”

Danny fixed him with a glare. “That doesn’t mean they wouldn’t hurt you.” The words were icy. Jason bit his cheek. From what he’d shared, Danny would know first hand how much family could actually hurt you.

“Whatever. I’m going home.” Jason turned to leave. Danny hmphed but didn’t press it. They exchanged curt goodbyes and parted ways.

Jason simmered with annoyance the whole way home. He could see it now, how it would pan out. Bruce would find out about the ghosts, about the curse. He’d swoop in and try to fix everything, and then he’d try to fix Jason. This was the crowbar that Bruce would use to pry open the door back into controlling Jason’s life.

And Danny— he tried to imagine a world where Bruce tolerated Danny. Removed from all the ghost weirdness, he was prime adoption bait, from the looks to the tragic backstory and the fraught familial relationships. But he was certain Danny would also react very poorly to Bruce trying to control him. And Bruce would absolutely try to control a powerful meta in his city.

None of this changed the fact that the city was still cursed. Nothing to do but keep fighting. Only now they’d have to always be looking over their shoulders.

//

The next morning he dressed as Jason and took his bike to Gotham University. He posted up outside the science and engineering building where he knew Danny had class. If Bruce had tracked Danny here, Jason wasn’t about to let him face Batman alone.

Maybe he was being paranoid— They only had Danny’s first name and his face, nothing else. It had been less than 24 hours since their encounter with Spoiler.

Yeah. No. He wasn’t going to underestimate them.

The towering oaks and manicured lawns of the campus felt foreign to him. It hardly felt like Gotham at all, not the real Gotham. The tall iron fences around the grass made sure to keep the real Gotham out. He scanned the doorways for campus security. Jason stuck out enough he wouldn’t put it past them to try to kick him out. He considered just aborting this pointless escapade and leaving when a stream of students began wafting out of the doors.

Danny appeared among the crowd. Jason’s feet froze to their spot. Danny smiled when he saw him, surprised.

Danny made his way over to, breaking off from the other students. “Isn't this a bit far from your radius?” He looked natural here, a bookbag slung casually over his shoulder, notebooks under his arm. Like he belonged.

“Gotta get some fresh air once in a while.”

The corner of Dannyʼs mouth quirked up and Jasonʼs stomach twisted.

Danny waited for Jason to, presumably, provide a reason for being there. “Making sure Batman doesn’t come after you” seemed like a crazy, unreasonable thing to say. Especially in that moment, as a sunbeam poked through the clouds and students chattered around them about homework and sports and parties.

As if reading his mental gymnastics, Danny offered a lifeline. “You want to join me for lunch?”

“Sure,” Jason replied almost too quickly, grateful for the excuse. He allowed himself to be led toward a cafe a few blocks away. He couldn’t help but scan the streets as they walked, looking for any hint of potential snoopers. The fact that there were so god damned many Bat-minions now made it more difficult to hone in on any one obvious tail.

Danny nudged him with an elbow, a questioning glance on his face. Was he being that obvious? Beside him Danny walked with the casual air of an ignorant civilian. More relaxed than a native Gothamite. Like he hadn’t just barely avoided a disastrous confrontation with the Batman. It only made Jason more paranoid.

They made it to the cafe without incident and found a table among the crowd of other University goers on their lunch break. As they ordered and settled in, small talk came as easily for them over pastrami on rye as it did between punches. Danny told him about the complex physics theories he was studying in class and Jason listened earnestly. Jason reminisced about his own schooling, non traditional as it were, and talked of the hours he spent in Bruce’s libraries.

His gaze wandered to a table by the window where a couple sat, laughing. First date, maybe. A next thought tried to follow that one but he strangled it like a firm hand around a throat.

“Itʼs not often I get to see your face in the outside world.” Danny pulled his attention back.

“Appreciate it while you can.”

“I am.” Danny smiled and Jason was suddenly acutely aware of his gaze focused only on him. “It’s unfair really. You get to admire these good looks all the time.” He gestured to himself and put on a false pout, hair flopping over his face.

Jason rolled his eyes playfully, but it stirred up a lingering concern. Oracle had caught Danny’s face on camera. That meant it was only a matter of time until she- and Bruce- found him. All that could have been avoided if Danny had a hero persona like the rest of them.

“Why donʼt you wear a mask?” Jason asked. “Itʼs like hero 101 shit.” He didn’t mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did.

Some of Dannyʼs brightness faded. “Iʼm not a hero.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So youʼre just a guy with superpowers fighting monsters every night. In jeans.”

That earned him a reluctant smile. “Pretty much.”

Jason lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Batman has your face now. He knows you have powers. He knows you work with Red Hood. Wouldn’t it be easier if you kept that separate from-“ he gestured to the books, the cafe, his life- “this?”

Danny sighed, leaning back and folding his arms. “There’s not really a point in keeping secrets. Batman can’t stop me. We’re careful. And it’s not like the ghosts are gonna talk to the tabloids.” “Weʼre not that careful. One wrong move or stray camera could destroy your life.”

Danny laughed, dry and harsh. “Danny Fenton is dead. I donʼt have a life to destroy.”

Jason paused. He hadnʼt found anything in his searches to suggest that was true. And it made no sense. Danny Fenton had dreams. He wanted to finish his degree. He hoped to work for NASA. Jason hadn’t imagined that conversation. Something didn’t add up.

“How does a dead man register for college?”

“With some half-baked forgeries and an excellent hacker on speed dial.”

“And wouldnʼt it still be bad if the undead college studentʼs life got ruined?”

Danny looked away. “It doesnʼt matter.”

“It doesnʼt matter?“

“I’m here to fix a ghost problem.” His voice got tighter.

“You said you werenʼt trying to do ghost stuff full time.”

“Trying, yeah. Emphasis on trying.”

“Not very hard, I guess.”

Danny grabbed his bag and stood up from the table in one abrupt motion. He looked down at Jason with cold eyes. “At least I try.”

Jason flinched at the hint of malice behind the words. Danny wasn’t wrong. Jason Todd was dead, and he had no intention of changing that. He didnʼt need to. He had his mask and the kingdom he’d built with it. He didnʼt need to be Jason.

But Danny had dreams as Danny. Jason had seen the yearning determination in his eyes as heʼd looked at the sky. Danny was a good liar but not good enough to fake that.

“Where are you going?” Jason snapped.

“Why do you care?”

Danny turned and brushed past tables of other diners as he stormed out. Jason clamped his mouth shut to stop himself from snapping back. He didn’t move from his seat. He fumed silently. Nothing that he’d found online had pointed to Dannyʼs death. No death certificate, a hospital stay, an obituary, a gravestone. Nothing.

He thought about going after Danny. A good friend probably would have. Instead he remembered snippets from that overheard conversation. Duty, the other person had said. Something about Danny’s duty. Nothing to do with fighting Gotham’s curse, from the way they said it. Some other thing entirely.

//

Danny didn’t show up that night. Jason waited on their roof (fuck it all, he’d started to think of it as theirs) but midnight came and went with no sign of him.

Jason tuned into the Bat coms after barely fifteen minutes of silent sulking. A pang of worry lingered in his gut. Batman could have found Danny, and— and what? He doubted they could lay a finger on Danny, let alone capture him. He’d already been in and out of Bruce’s security undetected.

Still. He listened on the coms for any mention of their escaped meta, but it was just a standard night of patrol. Tim and Cass out in the field, Oracle guiding them. Bruce must not have been listening in closely because they’re lax on chatter on the frequency. It’s like a personal radio drama just for him, except it’s a window into the life that was no longer his.

Still, Danny’s silence didn’t feel good. Jason remembered the hardness in his eyes from that afternoon, The apathetic bite of his tone. But Jason banished any hint of guilt that tried to squirm its way out of him. Fine by him if Danny wanted to ruin his own life. That clearly wasn’t his responsibility.

“Disturbance at Robinson Park. Destroyed property. Perp unclear.” Oracles voice came steady and clear over the coms.

“On our way. Is it Ivy?” Tim responded, businesslike.

“Negative. The path of destruction points to something large, animal-like. But I can’t spot it. It’s like it’s invisible.”

Jason’s ears perked up at that. That was a curse ghost, no way it could be anything else. And as much as he loved to imagine Tim getting his whole ass handed to him by an invisible monster, he really should go deal with it because the bats would be in way over their heads.

Well, except for the fact that Danny wasn’t there. He’d never fought a curse ghost alone. For as good as he’d gotten with the ghost weapons, he didn’t always come out of these fights unscathed, even with Danny’s backup.

He sent Danny a text with the location- curse ghost here. Maybe that would make him get over his sulking and get out here to help.

Minutes ticked by with no response. Tim and Cass sounded more harried on the coms. Danny would almost certainly tell him not to fight it solo if he were here. He gritted his teeth. Jason didn’t need Danny’s approval. Or his permission.

He checked the straps on his holsters and sword then took a running leap off the roof.

By the time he got there the park was already in chaos. Tim stood on the path and swung his staff at nothing. Cass crouched by the swing set which was sprawled in a half crumpled mess. Neither of them looked at the curse ghost, which gnawed on a corner of a park bench.

In an ideal scenario Jason could lure the curse ghost away to avoid explaining anything to them. Then Tim’s head snapped toward the bench, alerted by the crunching of old wood between invisible jaws. Cass also tensed, ready to pounce. Fuck.

Together they attacked. Predictably, Cass’s foot and Tim’s staff went right through the mass of oily shadow with no resistance. It took actually seeing it happen for Jason to fully appreciate just how screwed they were. Normal weapons couldn’t hurt it. They couldn’t even touch it.

Annoyed, the beast stopped snacking and with a massive clawed hand it took a swipe at Tim. Tim didn’t see it coming, obviously, so he took the hit hard to the side, sending him tumbling to the dirt.

“Red Robin!” Cass leapt after him only to catch a lazy swipe from the ghost's tail, knocking her down into the bushes.

“Backup heading your way, hold on,” Oracle's strained voice came through his helmet. More Bats wouldn’t solve this. It would only end up with more of them hurt. But they knew too much already without Jason exposing his ghost powered weapons too. He just needed the right opportunity.

The beast prowled toward where Tim was still righting himself. It cackled like a hyena, jaws wide and full of sharp teeth. It lunged.

Jason was faster. He took two bounding, half-floating steps, swung his sword and caught the ghost in the jaw. He shoved it back from Tim as it yowled.

God fucking dammit. So much for laying low. But he couldn’t just watch them get hurt.

“Hood?”

“Infrared.”

“What?“

“Use infrared vision.” He looked down at Tim as he found his feet, keeping the ghost in his peripheral. He remembered Danny calling out the infrared detectors as part of his arsenal of gadgets (“Helpful if you can’t already see them.”) and he didn’t want Tim and Cass flailing around totally blind.

“And stay out of my way.”

The ghost lunged again and he met it with his sword. They clashed, and for all Jason’s bravado, his arms shook as the beast parried his swing. He threw it off with a surge of effort. Thankfully Tim listened and had scattered to the edge of the lawn where Cass had resurfaced from the bushes, out of the radius of the fray. But looking to check on him had been a mistake— Jason felt a claw slash into his calf before he could dodge. He sucked a breath through his teeth. He’d had worse. But he was reminded again that he’d never faced the full ire of the curse ghosts alone. He’d always had Danny to trade blows with.

Now the ghost looked at him, only him, with hungry black eyes and that insufferable cackle dripping from its lips.

“I’ve got visual on infrared.” Oracle, still in his ear. “It’s showing up as a cold spot—some kind of giant wolf.” Hyena, Jason corrected mentally before barely dodging another swipe of its claws.

“Got it,” Red Robin chirped. Jason dared another look to see he had indeed donned infrared goggles from his kit. “Going back in.”

Jason’s heart clenched. “No,” he grunted over the coms he was definitely not supposed to have access to, “Stay out of it.”

The ghost took the opportunity to launch itself at him. Jason found himself pinned under its massive paws, staring up into that gaping, laughing mouth.

“Hood!” If he didn’t know better he’d think Tim actually sounded concerned. Which—fuck, that didn’t mean anything since he couldn’t do shit to help.

Jason found his pistol and wiggled himself just enough room to press it to the ghost’s belly. He pulled the trigger and green energy exploded into the shadow, tossing the ghost off of him and fully exposing Jason’s own ghost shit for Oracle and everyone to see.

“You can’t hurt it,” he barked at Tim as he rolled to his feet. “Stay the fuck back.” Tim didn’t protest. For once.

Now that the guns were out he gave up any attempt at subtlety. He got nasty with his blasts and pulled nothing from his punches, calling every ounce of that green energy to the surface. He must have looked like a glowing menace to Tim and Cass, but he had little room to care. The ghost fought back with eager viciousness. Jason ignored the snap in his wrist, the teeth grazing his side, drawing blood. He just had to beat it down enough to capture it.

After another round of traded blows finally, finally, the curse ghost started looking worse for wear. It panted heavily, long black tongue lolling out of its mouth, and it oozed black sludge where Jason’s sword had left the deepest marks. He holstered a gun long enough to pull the thermos instead, and as it lunged toward him one more time he sucked it up in a beam of light.

The silence that followed was beautiful. He bent over halfway to catch his breath. He did it. He fucking did it. He did it without Danny.

From the other side of the lawn, Cass whistled. Jason stood and turned to face them, intending to take a quick bow before exiting stage left, but— there was Bruce. Batman had arrived sometime during the brawl. He stood protectively in front of Tim and Cass.

“Red Hood. Report.”

Nice to see you too. He rolled his eyes and turned to leave.

Then Bruce tried a different angle.

“Where is your new partner?”

Jason bristled. Batman being suspicious of him was one thing, but bringing Danny into the equation made the pit under his heart roar in protest. He turned back before he could think better of it. “None of your business, old man. Stay out of it.”

He didn’t appreciate the thin press of Cass’s lips or the hint of Tim’s chuckle.

“Let us help you.” Batman extended a hand. And oh if Bruce didn’t sound just a bit soft, and the offer sounded almost genuine. It only made his hackles raise further.

“You can’t help,” he ground out. And it was true. If Bruce couldn’t help him before all the ghost stuff, he absolutely couldn’t help now.

Jason took off toward his bike. If he was fast they wouldn’t catch him. He hoped he wouldn’t have to dissuade them further.

“Jason!” Batman broke his own rule to call out his name, and it was almost enough to get him to stop and go back. Almost.

He slipped between the trees and ran deeper into the shadows.

//

Jason had two more nights of worrying. Of listening in on police scanners (since he hadn’t been able to reconnect to the coms since revealing he had access) for any hint of Danny. Nothing.

Maybe Danny got wise and skipped town. Jason went to Danny’s apartment to check if he’d left. When his knock went unanswered he phased himself in through the door. A quick glance around said all of Danny’s stuff was still there. No sign of a fight. Jason stood in the center of the tiny apartment feeling like an ass. Now that he’d been there with Danny’s permission it felt wrong to be breaking in unannounced. Danny wasn’t just a suspicious unknown meta anymore. He was— well, he was something. Still suspicious. But undeniably on his side.

Danny could be MIA for any reason. Something could have happened with his mysterious family maybe, though that thought did nothing to calm Jason’s nerves.

He let himself settle into the more likely possibility that maybe Danny simply didn’t want to see him. It wouldn’t be hard for him to avoid Jason, break ins aside. Danny could simply vanish anytime he sensed Jason nearby. Maybe he’d been stupid for pushing Danny to talk. Dumb of him to think that Danny owed him anything real.

He opened his phone like he was going to text Danny, but after typing and deleting various attempts at concern or apology or both he just shoved the phone back in his pocket, message unsent. Their text chain only pertained to the curse ghosts after all. It’s not like Danny owed him a response for anything else.

On the third night, out of nowhere, Danny sent him a text.

You up?

Jason nearly frisbeed his phone across the safehouse when he saw the notification. It was just barely 2 am- he had finished his rounds and called it a night early. He hurriedly tapped a reply.

Where have you been?

Meet u at roof.

Jason didn’t know whether to be mad or relieved. He ended up pulling his pants back on and rushing out while feeling a strange cocktail of both.

As soon as his feet hit the roof Jason could tell Danny was off. His shoulders sagged, his face looked less full, eyes filled with less light. Suddenly Jason was less certain his absence had anything to do with their fight and instead everything to do with whatever caused him to look like this.

“What happened to you?”

“What are you talking about. Iʼm great.”

Jason raised his eyebrows, asking for more. Danny sighed and changed the subject. “Sorry I didnʼt reply about the curse ghost the other night. Did it do any real damage?”

“Tried to eat the park benches.” Jason leaned up against the stairwell wall next to him. Danny grimaced, and Jason left out the part where it nearly wasted Tim and Cass. “But I handled it.”

A bit of sharpness snapped back into Dannyʼs eyes. “Wait, what?”

Jason tapped the thermos on his belt. “Added ‘em to the soup collection. What, didnʼt think I could do it on my own?”

Danny hmmed in reply, his usual enthusiasm still dimmed. But Jason could see wheels turning behind his eyes.

“No faith at all. I’m insulted.” Jason cracked a smile.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Do I look hurt?”

Danny tilted his head knowingly. Jason pulled his jacket closer.

“I’m fine. And Either way, it was probably a good thing to keep you off the Bats’ radar for a bit.”

It wasn’t, however, a good thing that Danny looked like he’d been chewed up and spat out. Jason bit his tongue to keep himself from prying.

“The Bats were there?”

“Tim and Cass. Couldn’t let them get their shit wrecked by an invisible ghoulie.” Then he added, quieter: “Or Bruce’s.”

Danny let out a huffed pained noise under his breath. Suffice to say that his opinion on Batman hadn’t changed.

“We have limited time till they get more involved.” Jason leaned closer, trying to catch Danny’s eye. “So I have to ask— Where is this all going? Weʼre bagging these things night after night, but that doesn’t stop them from appearing. There has to be an end.”

“There is.” Danny pressed his lips together.

“The curse is actually just one entity,” he continued, “These ghosts we’ve been fighting- they’re like offshoots of it. The root is like… the queen of the curse. She’s the oldest one here, the initial kernel that grew into something powerful enough to spawn all the others.”

Jason blinked. “Then why havenʼt we gone after her?”

“I have. When I first got here. It sucked.“ He pushed up off the wall they were leaning against and paced across the roof. “She’s dug her claws in real deep, and all the power her minions get feeds her too.”

Jason did not like the sound of a foe that even Danny had trouble facing.

“But we’ve been cleaning up curse ghosts left and right. That must be putting a dent in her, right?”

“That’s the hope, yeah. So that next time I face her, it shouldn’t be such a disaster.”

“We.”

“Huh?”

Jason got off the wall to follow him. “Next time we face her. No way I’d miss out on sending her packing after all this.”

Danny was quiet a moment. “Right. Yeah.”

The hesitation in his voice was certainly not a vote of confidence. Jason did his best to ignore it.

“Anyway.” Danny said, shaking off a bit of the funk hanging over him, “It’s been too long since I’ve bashed curse heads. You up for a little tête-à-tête?”

“Always.”

They tracked a curse ghost to an old office building at the edge of Crime Alley. It was a remnant of when this place used to be Park Row, an imposing tower adorned with art deco details, now crumbling with neglect. They followed Danny’s senses up to the executive floor, where large wooden desks and rows of retro office chairs sat fading.

For a couple of long minutes as they stalked the dark halls, Jason feared the trail had gone cold. Then, from the conference room in the corner, he heard a pale keening moan. Danny flashed him a look, and then they began their usual dance.

Danny took the opening, crashing in through a half-screened window. Jason followed, blocking off the door. The rhythm came easy, like a set of ping pong across the conference table with the curse as the ball. He matched Danny’s pace more easily than normal, and he felt a curl of warm smugness in his gut before he took a glance at Danny. He looked downright sluggish compared to normal, like gravity had turned against him for once. His limbs moved heavily through the air, and when he twisted too fast Jason caught a wince snarl through his features.

The beast hadn’t stopped keening, but it was slower to get back to its feet now. Just a few more good hits and then they could wrap this up and Jason would demand Danny tell him what was wrong.

Then something happened that Jason never thought heʼd see.

Danny went down, hard. A sudden whip from the beast's tail sent him plowing through the wall, then another, then deep into a stack of ancient metal file cabinets with a nasty crunch. He didnʼt get up.

A spike of fear shot down Jasonʼs spine. A flicker of his old rage laced the next few swings of his sword, but right then he was grateful for it. It was enough to give him an opening to pull out the thermos. He sucked the curse up before it got any closer to Danny.

Then Jason stopped thinking as his legs carried him to the divot in the cabinets where Danny laid unmoving.

“Danny?”

Danny groaned, still alive. Half alive. Whatever.

Jason didnʼt know what to do. He reached out his hands and they hovered over Dannyʼs crumpled torso. The white of his t-shirt revealed growing red stains. And also, worryingly, green.

This was the part where Danny would sit up and crack a joke. Where he would tease Jason for worrying. Where heʼd smile that infuriating smile. But he didnʼt. His breath came in shaky rattles. His eyes stayed closed.

“Fuck.” Jason stopped hesitating and put his arms under Danny, lifting him gingerly from the dust and debris.

“Wha-?” Danny mumbled.

“Iʼve got you.”

Danny relaxed into his arms, his head resting against his chest, and Jason felt his heart stutter. Danny was too cold in his grasp, too light. But Jason didnʼt have time to worry about that. He needed to get Danny somewhere safe.

In a daze, he made his way to Dannyʼs apartment. Danny didn’t wake throughout the trip, just let out little pained sounds whenever Jason jostled him too much. When they arrived at the apartment, Jason used his jacket to phase them through the door. Glancing at the unmade bed, he opted to lay Danny down on the torn up couch instead— better to not get blood all over the sheets.

Jason knew where the first aid kit was from when Danny used it on him, so he grabbed it from the kitchen. Then he took the hem of Dannyʼs torn shirt and pulled it over his head. Any qualms Jason had about the invasion of Danny’s privacy died when he saw the wound on his side.

Huge gashes raked across his abdomen in parallel, torn deep into the skin. Claw marks, Jasonʼs brain provided numbly, though these claws must have belonged to something even bigger and nastier than the curse ghosts. Something worse than anything Jason had seen.

What the hell did this?

“Jason-?” Dannyʼs eyes fluttered half open.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Jason admonished.

Danny blinked slowly, still out of it. “Didja get ‘em?”

He was still worried about the curse ghost? Jason nearly bit his tongue. “Yeah.”

Danny leaned back and closed his eyes again. “Good. Thanks.”

Fucking hell.

Jason turned off his brain and let his hands do the work of patching up Dannyʼs side in mental silence. Danny didnʼt stir as he disinfected the wounds, as he taped butterfly bandages over them, as he pulled a fresh shirt over Dannyʼs head. If it were anyone else Jason would have needed to do stitches, but with Danny he knew better. His accelerated healing would take care of it quicker than he could pull the stitches back out.

The pack of bandages had been nearly empty. Seems it wasn’t the first time he’d been hurt. Something ugly twisted in Jason’s stomach at that thought. So instead Jason looked at Dannyʼs face, free from worried creases in sleep. Danny looked so vulnerable, so peacefully human. Jason fidgeted with his hands.

“Not so invincible after all, are you?” he breathed.

The space between them felt smaller than it had before, all pretenses of keeping his distance shattered. What once had been a wide gulf, gaping like the wounds on Dannyʼs side, collapsed like an imploding star.

Jason couldnʼt stop himself. He reached out with a timid hand and closed the remaining distance. He pushed aside the lock of dark hair that had fallen in Dannyʼs closed eyes, his fingers brushing featherlight over Dannyʼs forehead. Reverent and tender. Danny shifted and sighed.

Jason froze. No. Nope. Nuh-uh. He couldnʼt do this. It was like holding an overripe strawberry in his palm— he didn’t trust himself not to crush it. He shut his mind off again as he fled for the door, leaving Danny to wake up alone.

//

Danny showed up on their rooftop the next night, no sign of the injuries from the night before, looking chipper as the day they met.

“Thanks.” Danny said, handing Jason a paper wrapped burger.

Jason took the gift without rising from where he sat. “For what?”

Danny responded by lifting his shirt to reveal the gashes in his side. They had sealed over in puckered pink scars. Fast, maybe even more so than Jason had expected.

“For the patch up.” Danny pulled a second burger out of the bag and sat on the ledge next to him.

Jason waited for him to say more. To offer an explanation for the wounds, or what gave them to him, or where he’d been. Danny just bit into his burger and chewed wordlessly. He looked off somewhere in the distance.

“I could have handled it.” Jason broke the silence. “You shouldn’t have been out fighting like that.”

“I’ve had worse. Plus, now I’m fine.”

“Not caring about getting hurt just because you heal fast isn’t a good battle strategy.”

“Who said I was good at strategy?” Danny had that damnable smirk on his face.

“Either way. You could have left it alone for another night. Gotham’s been cursed as long as I’ve been alive.”

“Longer than that.”

“So it can definitely survive one night without its blue-jeaned protector.” Danny scowled, but didn’t argue further.

Jason reminded himself he shouldn’t care. Danny didn’t owe him anything, and he liked it that way. Any more info on Danny’s life would just serve to entangle them more than they already were, which he very much didn’t need. The only answer he really needed at this point was how to stop the curse ghosts.

He still hadn’t had any luck in cracking the pattern though. Even with the added info about the heart of the curse- the queen- progress was slow going. He’d shifted his efforts to finding her specifically, but so far she’d proven incredibly elusive. There was just too much violence in Gotham to parse what was tied to the curse and what wasn’t.

They finished their meal in silence as sirens wailed in the distance.

Jason stood and stretched. “Almost can’t imagine this place without a curse, though. It’s part of the charm.”

Danny crumpled his burger wrapper and tossed it in the bag. “Once it’s gone you and the Bats will actually be able to change things for the better though. It won’t be such a Sisyphean fight anymore.” He raised an eyebrow. “Sisyphus? Didn’t peg you for a mythology fan.”

“I’ve, uh, taken some practical mythology courses.” Danny blushed, which sent Jason’s stomach tumbling.

Jason honestly couldn’t picture a Gotham without all the corruption and violence and greed. What would that place even look like? Would that Gotham even need a Batman? Or a Red Hood?

Or a Danny?

“What about you?” Suddenly Jason had to know.

“What about me?”

“After the curse is gone. Will you stay?”

Danny’s lips turned down. Thoughts spun behind his eyes. Jason’s gut dropped and he regretted asking. He didn’t know which answer he wanted to hear. He didn’t know which would be worse.

Danny opened his mouth to reply. Then a curse ghost crashed onto the balcony below them, stealing his answer away.

//

Another week went by with no lead on the curse’s cause or its queen. Jason, for his part, had kept it professional when it came to Danny. They met nightly, hunted curses, then parted ways. Like following a script. He ignored, with great effort, the spike of worry he felt every time Danny took a hit, or the way his whole body clenched whenever he thought he saw the shape of a cowl following them in the shadows. He couldn’t let himself lose focus.

Find the queen. End the curse.

So far the bats hadn’t actually bothered them any further, which meant that either they had bigger fish to fry, or that he still had one scrap of good will left in Bruce’s eyes. But he wouldn’t bet on it. Which is why they needed to find the queen and finish this quickly. Then everything could go back to normal.

He’d go back to running the Crime Alley scene uninterrupted, and Danny would go back to… something else. College? Jason wanted to believe it, but after their conversation in the cafe, he couldn’t be sure. He thought about never having to fight another curse ghost with Danny and it made his heart do an unpleasant twitch. He wanted the curse to be gone, he reminded himself. Wanted the bats to have no reason to be suspicious. Wanted to be done with all this ghost bullshit.

At least that’s what he told himself.

Jason had gone out scouting for leads on the queen when he found himself at the graveyard. The slant of the evening sun had turned the familiar stones a shade of pale golden even through the overcast sky. It wasn’t the first time he’d been back here.

He stopped walking at a particular knoll. The headstone at his feet read Jason Peter Todd. The grass had long regrown over where he’d dug his way out. He wondered if Danny had a grave, one that had been erased from the records.

Ghosts- regular ghosts, not curses- floated about, semi transparent. They must be pretty weak if they were only half visible even to him. Or at least he thought so, based on what little Danny had told him about how ghost biology worked. The ghost of a woman, older but not old, floated closer. She looked at him expectantly.

He gestured to the headstones around them. “One of these yours? I can, uh, clean it up a bit for you? If that helps?”

“I don’t- I can’t- remember—“

“I’ll read some names. Maybe it’ll come back to you.”

“Abigail? Chelsea? Lorraine?” He stopped at a grave with fresh soil. “Sarah?”

The light shifted as the sun slanted lower. He noticed her neck- deep purple bruises wrapped around her windpipe with the distinct outlines of fingers.

Anger twisted in his stomach. “Or maybe it would help more if I found who did that to you.”

The spirit’s eyes snapped to him, suddenly sharp.

“Hurt.“

The tone of her voice sent a spike of fear down his spine, gravely and staticy and filled with so much anger.

“Whoa, whoa. You okay?”

The ghost woman shuddered and changed in front of him. She warped into a heinous visage with sharp teeth and pointed fingers, her hair twitched at wrong angles in a writhing cocoon, her eyes turned to pools of inky black.

“Hurt. Hurt him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him kill him kill him kill-”

Jason’s own rage leapt to a sudden, blinding boil. It felt like fire ants swarming under his skin, hot and sharp and bright. He felt the woman’s pain as if it were his own, and felt the need to cause pain ten fold in return. The beast under his heart roared, hungry for revenge.

He relished how familiar it felt, the clarity of purpose, the surrendering of will, the open bleeding wounds that could only be paid back with more blood. He thought about the relief he’d feel if he finally put a bullet through the Joker's brain. Better if he made Bruce do it. He’d hurt the other Robins as a motivator, kill them if he had to. He’d do whatever it took to make that bastard feel hopeless, to make him bend, to bleed, to make him suffer like he had—

Oh, fuck. Jason blinked away just enough of the green in his vision to stumble backwards. He needed— he needed to feel the crunch of bone under his hands, the taste of fear–. No—no. He needed to get away, needed distance between himself and the vengeful ghost. He ground his teeth as he fell to the earth. He dug his nails in the dirt as he clawed backwards, away.

He spat blood— he’d bit his tongue. He scraped at his holster, whipping his pistol out. Its weight steadied his hand as he trained it on the spirit.

“Knock if off,” he spat at the ghost, poisonous heat still raw in his voice.

The pressure of her pain didn’t relent, still clawing at his insides, scraping into the oldest parts of his anger with black heat. He pulled on his own energy in return, desperate. It leapt readily to his call, building at the tip of his gun.

“I said fuck off!”

He shot, and the cannonball of green energy barreled into the ghost. She wailed but she didn’t stand a chance. Her form dispersed in green flames. The claws around his heart vanished with her, leaving him feeling raw.

Easier to beat than a curse ghost. But the encounter left him feeling more than twice as rattled.

Then he rolled onto his knees and dry heaved over the grass. Flashes of what he’d wanted to do to his brothers, to Bruce, surfaced through the clearing haze in his mind. He could have done it. If he’d had any less awareness of the cause of those thoughts, he was certain he would have.

Cold sweat simmered over his skin. He curled his arms around his legs like it would make him warmer, or settle his stomach. It did neither.

He could have killed them.

Danny would have stopped him, he thought. The thought had no real backing in reality, but he believed it all the same. If Jason had actually gone after Bruce and the others, Danny wouldn’t have let him do it.

It provided enough hypothetical comfort to allow him to remember how to breathe.

He raised his eyes just enough to look at the empty air where the ghost had just been. He almost didn’t see it, but once he focused it was unmistakable. A wisp of black shadow, identical to what it looked like when Danny blasted apart a curse ghost. But she hadn’t been a curse ghost. Had she? She’d been completely harmless. Normal, until—

Jason leapt to his feet, wallowing forgotten. He had to get to his computer.

//

“I figured it out.” Jason had the patience to knock at Danny’s door when he got to his place instead of crashing through the window like he wanted to.

“Figured what—Huh?” Danny, in sweats, coffee mug in hand, allowed Jason to barge past him into the messy apartment.

“How the curse ghosts show up. The pattern. The cause.”

He pulled the thumb drive from his pocket, plugged it into Danny’s computer and sat down in the desk chair. “They’re connected to deaths.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Shut up and let me finish. Not just any death.” He pulled up a map with an overlay with points for all Gotham deaths. They far outnumbered the curse ghosts.

“You said not everyone comes back as a ghost, right? What makes them more likely to?”

Danny leaned on the arm of the couch. “A death or a life that’s especially violent or unjust, usually. Combined with a strong sense of purpose unfulfilled. But the curse ghosts aren’t like that. They’re the kind that exist without consciousness. They are the abstract purpose of fear and suffering.”

“But what if they didn’t form like that from nothing?”

Danny tilted his head, bidding Jason to continue.

“What if the most violent, least just deaths-“ he pressed a key isolating those points on the map- “resulted in ghosts that somehow got turned into curses.” He clicked another key and brought up the layer of curse ghost sightings. It matched nearly perfectly.

Danny’s eyes widened. “It all tracks. Except for the fact that ghosts can’t just majorly change their nature like that.” He paused. “Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Something more powerful than them triggers it. Something else is actively changing them.”

Jason smiled. He could tell they already made the same conclusion. “The queen?”

Danny nodded, excited now. “The queen.”

“We just gotta find deaths that are likely targets for her. She’ll come out to change them, and then we zap her up.” Danny pulled out his phone and began tapping furiously. A moment later the familiar sounds of the police scanner came through the tinny speaker. ‘Retired’ vigilante his whole ass.

Jason was infinitely relieved that Danny didn’t ask him how he’d had this epiphany. He very much did not want to tell him about the ghost from the graveyard and what he’d almost done. Or the fact that the woman had warped into something like a curse ghost because of him, not the queen.

“How will we know which death she’ll use?” Jason pulled at a cuticle. Night had fallen since the graveyard, and the scanner was a constant buzz of chatter and codes.

“We’ll know.” Danny tapped his leg with restless energy. They waited and listened as the minutes turned into nearly an hour.

Eventually Danny broke the silence. “You don’t have to come,” he said quietly. Guiltily.

“Are you joking?”

“The queen- the true curse- I encountered her once. Before. She’s– she’s not like the others.”

“So?”

Danny fiddled with the half-finished belt on his desk. “This junk only does so much. You’re still fighting with a handicap.”

The unspoken offer was there- a cure, a fix, a permanent silencer for his rage. A fix which was tied up in his own power- if he could even really call it that. It still felt borrowed more than something of his own.

He folded his arms. “Almost everything I’ve ever fought has been stronger than me. Why would I stop now?”

“You sure I can’t talk you out of this?”

“I’m insulted you even tried.”

The chatter on the radio crescendoed, pulling their attention back.

“Killer Croc and Scarecrow reported at the North Docks. Batman spotted on scene, perps still on the loose. Two DOA.”

Jason jumped to his feet. “That’s gotta be it, right?” Danny stayed where he was on the couch a moment before he rolled to stand.

“You ready?”

“Always.”

“Let’s go.”

They rode their bikes side by side through the streets till the apartment blocks turned to squat warehouses at the harbor’s edge. They ditched the bikes when they spotted police cruisers, opting instead to weave their way between shipping containers on foot till they found the scene.

A handful of cops lingered around a shipping dock. Cameras flashed as they took photos of something near the water’s edge. No sign of Croc, Scarecrow, or Batman. Whatever confrontation had happened it was already long since. Danny led him to the top of a container where they waited and watched.

“I take it she won’t come out with Gotham’s finest hanging around?” Jason asked below his breath.

“Doubtful.”

Minutes ticked by as the crowd of cops began thinning. The energy in the air practically crackled. Danny had lost his usual nonplussed air- he shook out his fists and paced the length of the container. They waited until the last of the cops drove away, leaving the dock in a deceptively peaceful sort of silence. Anticipation coiled in Jason’s stomach.

“Maybe I’m wrong. She might not show.” Jason crouched, unmoving.

“She will.” Danny spoke with zero doubt. Through all his impatient fidgeting his eyes never left a spot at the end of the docks. Where, Jason assumed, the man had drowned. He couldn’t see a body. But Danny had a sense for these things.

Suddenly Danny stilled, and Jason snapped to attention. He crouched beside him, looking out to the dark water. Nothing changed for a long moment.

Then the light shifted colder and dimmer, like the streetlights suddenly weren’t as effective at pushing back the dark. Their sodium yellow glow turned pale sickly gray. A thin layer of mist rolled across the water and over the shore.

Jason knew what the curse ghosts felt like. He’d felt it nearly every night for the last six weeks. This wasn’t that. Where the curse ghosts were hot fury and gunshots, this was a slow smooth knife of dread, cutting deep and settling in.

Danny sucked a sharp breath through his teeth. It sounded more like a hiss.

And then Gotham’s curse herself appeared.

A black cloaked figure glided across the water, barely distinguishable from the black of night around her. a circlet of shadows hovered over her head. As she moved Jason realized that it wasn’t just a cloak— the figure was shadow all the way down, writhing and shifting in the illusion of human form.

Around her a pack of curse ghosts followed at her heel like obedient hounds. The dripping goo of their bodies looked garish next to hers, all shimmering mist and elegance. As terrifying as she was, there was something deeply familiar to her. Both elusive and enticing.

Jason chanced a look at Danny. He’d stopped pacing. He had never seen such dangerous focus on his face before.

The queens entourage stopped at the dock Danny had been watching. Out of the water in front of her something blue and luminescent rose up— a ghost. The ghost they’d been waiting for.

Whispers filled the air in lower frequencies that thrummed through his body more than he actually heard them. He couldn’t parse words at this distance, but the meaning became clear enough. The queen extended a claw-like hand toward the fresh ghost. And, just like the one at the graveyard, it began to warp into something awful right before their eyes.

“Stay here,” Danny bit out below his breath. Jason recoiled at the thought of hanging back, but Danny shot him a look with such intensity that he choked on his retort.

Danny jumped down. He landed on his feet in the open cement of the shipping yard, fully visible under the glow of the desaturated street lamps.

“That’s enough.”

Danny’s voice shook with the same rumble as the whispers, cutting through them like ice. The curse queen and her entourage turned their attention to him instantly.

“Come out to play again little king?” The queen's voice was unexpectedly smooth, like cool silk down his spine. “I do find our games so enriching.”

“I find them rather dull personally,” Danny answered. His body language was nonchalant, but there was still an edge to his voice. He tilted his chin toward the warped ghost. “Neat trick.”

“You like it? Gotham’s restless dead truly thrive once I remake them in my image.”

“They’re not yours.”

The temperature dropped ten degrees in the span of a heartbeat. The queen’s pack of curse ghosts began lurking onto shore and positioned themselves in a wide circle around Danny. Jason tensed. “This city is mine. Anyone who comes here is mine to keep.” She turned her attention back to the new ghost. “And mine to devour.”

The shadows around the queen flared and the new ghost convulsed with a horrible garbled cry. Black goo exploded from its eyes, its mouth until it was covered. It fell to the queen's feet, a heap of sludge that writhed like worms. She laughed, a haughty rumble that had Jason’s hair standing on end. When the ghost rose a moment later on shaky, inky legs, it took the form of a hound. Just like the others.

Around Danny the lights flickered and popped. The queen laughed again, this time a piercing cackle.

And then the hounds attacked.

In the analytical parts of Jason’s mind, he had accepted that he’d never seen Danny fight with his full strength in any of their brawls. He hadn’t truly understood what that meant until now.

Barely a week prior Jason had managed to scrape a win against just one curse ghost by the skin of his teeth. Now Danny fought seven. At once. The shipping yard turned into chaos as Danny blasted curse ghosts in rapid succession, throwing them into shipping containers with such force the containers bent and toppled. Swaths of black goo splattered across the dock every time Danny landed a hit. Flashes of green and shadow exploded against one another like toxic fireworks.

Danny spared no breath for his usual quips and banter. Instead, his lips pressed into a firm line, broken only sporadically by a flash of his fangs as he tore into the hounds with easy viciousness. Jason practically chewed through the inside of his cheek. He could barely keep up with the pace of the fray as Danny’s glowing form darted through the gauntlet of claws and ink. He gripped the hilt of his sword from his hiding place. He could help. He couldn’t just watch. But just being in the queen’s presence still felt like a skeletal hand around his throat.

Danny faced off against two hounds from the dock side. He didn’t see the one from behind. Fuck that. Jason jumped.

He swung the sword in a wide arc downward and, just as its jaws reached Danny, relieved the curse ghost of its head. Goo splattered to the dock with a satisfying thunk.

Danny whirled on him, palms alight with energy. His eyes went wide in a kind of panic. “What are you–”

“I’ve got your back.”

Before Danny could protest, Jason stepped for another swing of his sword, catching another hound in the side. No room for Danny to argue. They fell into the rhythm of battle.

This Jason knew how to do. Armed to the teeth with Danny’s gadgets and weeks of practice, the clawing fear became background noise to the rush of adrenaline. He slashed heads and unleashed blasts and zapped with the thermos. Sounds of metal slicking through muck rang out, alongside the pained grunts and roars of the curse ghosts and his own frenzied breathing. As the dock got covered in more and more goo, he found himself grinning. He’d gotten rather good at this.

He looked to Danny, hoping for one of those sharpened smiles. Instead, Danny looked back at him with that same strained panic.

Jason saw now that Danny was focusing on keeping the curse ghosts away from him, enough that he’d taken more than one nasty hit. It threw Jason’s rhythm, enough that a hound got its teeth into his arm. He hissed in pain. Danny was there an instant later, ripping the beast off of him by its neck and tossing it back into the harbor.

“Quit hovering. I’m fine.” Jason growled.

“I told you to stay back.”

“I came here to fight.”

“Just let me handle it.” Danny stepped in front of him, throwing up a green energy shield to push back another curse ghost.

Jason ground his teeth. He wouldn’t be scolded like a child. He’d had enough of that from Bruce.

They were down to just two hounds left. The queen watched from the end of the dock. Danny went for her, two bounding leaps and a green sun in his fist. The newest curse ghost— the one they’d just watched turn— leapt out from behind her. They clashed and tumbled back through the open large bay doors of a dry dock warehouse.

The queen stalked forward after them. Neither of them reappeared, but the sounds of crashing metal and breaking glass rang out from inside. Jason ran toward it.

He got inside the warehouse just as Danny subdued the new curse ghost, sucking it up into his thermos with a grimace. The queen stopped before him, her shadow wide and menacing like wings surrounding her.

“What I don’t understand is why you keep playing this little game?” Her voice filled with cloying sweetness as she bent closer to Danny. “Why not just end it? What are you waiting for?” Dannyʼs eyes shifted across the room and found Jasonʼs. A mistake.

The queen whipped her head around with a crack. Her eyes- two black holes in her face, somehow darker than shadow- locked on him. His stomach dropped.

“Or should I have asked who?” The queen's full attention hit him like a flood. She had no mouth but Jason could hear her smile. Every nerve he had left was telling him to run. Every muscle in his body refused to move.

Her whole body twisted to face him, slow as dread. Jason gripped tighter on the sword in front of him. He swallowed a shallow breath.

“What do we have here? One of my wayward knights? So wonderful to finally meet.” The queen took one smoky step toward him.

Then every lightbulb in the warehouse exploded.

“He’s not yours.” A snarl ripped out of Danny like an earthquake. It cut through the sudden darkness, layered with unnatural echoes and tones that Jason felt under his skin. He tore his attention away from the queen to look back at him.

His eyes burned bright like a signal fire under heavy eyebrows, even more prominent with all the lights out. But that wasnʼt what made goosebumps rise across Jasonʼs skin. He’d never seen Danny angry. Heck, heʼd rarely even been more than annoyed. But now he was outright furious.

Sure, the weight of the queen's presence had struck a chord of fear in Jason, deep and instinctual. But that didnʼt hold a candle to what he felt now. He looked at Danny and his mind filled only with terror of the primal sort. Like a hare caught in the jaws of a wolf. Prey amongst a predator.

The queen threw back her head and laughed once more. It sounded like groaning metal and dissonant strings.

“Then stop me!” She screeched, and she lunged toward Jason.

As the swirling mass of shadows convulsed in his direction, Jasonʼs reflexes kicked in and he threw the sword up to block. It didnʼt matter. A shadowy talon sliced clean through it. The top half of the blade clattered to the ground unceremoniously.

Shit. Heʼd really started to like that sword.

Then he realized the sword wasnʼt the only thing the talon had cut.

He looked down. A thick spear of shadow extended through his stomach and out his back.

The queen laughed louder as she pulled it out of him with a wet schlick. He put a hand to the spot. Instantly his palm was drenched in red. Blood, so much blood. Warm and sticky and wet. Running out of him like a faucet.

Distantly he heard Danny yell out to him. He wanted to lift his broken sword to strike back, but his mind hadn’t caught up with what his body already knew- the fight was over. He’d lost. Embarrassing, really. After all his bravado he still wasn’t even in the same league as a real threat. Not even close.

A dull fuzzy feeling started overtaking the sharp bite of adrenaline in his system. That wasnʼt good. That felt like dying and he really didnʼt want to do that again. As his legs gave out and he fell to his knees, he realized he didnʼt really have a choice.

He looked up across the room again as his vision started to blur. Dannyʼs face was warped in absolute fury. The shadows around the edges of the room cowered back. He blinked and there was a flash of blinding white light. Every nerve in his body iced over with terror.

His eyes wouldnʼt focus. The world turned into a slideshow, flashes of images and sounds that lingered on the back of his eyelids. He clung to them like a lifeline.

A flaming crown. A starburst of shadows. The pungent smell of gasoline and ozone and iron. Cold, so, so cold. Black being ripped from black, pained terrible screeching. Neon green, brighter than the sun. Cold, deep chasming cold, down to his bones.

He crumpled to the cement.

A howling wail that nearly broke his heart.

And then blissful oblivion.

[jaidens]

country girl shake it for me!

pairing [s] : dean winchester x cowgirl!angel!reader

summary : The five times Dean Winchester was met with the fate of ‘Cowgirl’.

warning [s] : mentions of : stabbing, guns, basic supernatural type stuff.

a/n [s] : i got a new pair of boots today because mine literally fell apart after like 12 years

THE FIRST TIME DEAN WINCHESTER MET COWGIRL.

“Sammy! Help!” Dean shouts as the demons surround him, pushing him into the corner of the creaky house. His gun had been crushed and taken away in another room, alongside his blade that was slammed outside the window. Sam was struggling on his own with the amount that had run in. Demon territory hadn't been the Winchesters peak in their hunter careers.

Dean had blinked and they were gone and exorcised. As well as the blade shoved in one of their backs. They all lose their balance, and there shows the woman behind it all. A girl with bootcut jeans, a t-shirt tied at the bottom, and a pair of boots. “Who the hell are you?” Dean says and hears her click her tongue. She turns around and starts walking away, and walks through the door.

THE SECOND TIME DEAN WINCHESTER SAW COWGIRL.

Once more, another situation with Dean being stuck in another corner with a much stronger supernatural than normal. He's slammed against the wall and given a quick slice of sharp nails against his face. “God you dick!” Dean screams as he gets punched and kicked in the legs once again.

Dean Winchester was usually able to fight for himself, other times it seemed impossible without Sammy and Castiel near his side. Bobby was gone too, leaving him alone and fighting for himself. Once more, the creature falls off of him and there she is again. Sporting a cowboy hat this time, Dean catches a glimpse of the angel blade that sits in her bag that hangs off her side.

“Are you an angel?” Dean asks and she gives him a wink, and turns around.

She clicks her tongue and suckles her teeth.

“Buy me a drink and I'll tell you.”

Woosh!

THE THIRD TIME DEAN WINCHESTER MEETS HER.

Castiel, Dean and Sam sit around a round table trying to find solutions to fighting a pack of supernatural in the deep south. Bobby didn't have a lot of live connections that could help them, and Dean and Sam had butted heads about even taking the case.

“I know an angel we can call.” Castiel speaks up in-between the group. “She has been around the south for millions of years. The cowboys used to worship her.”

Dean finally sighs and thanks Castiel, pouring another glass of cheap whiskey. Castiel disappears before whooshing back into the room with her. “Honey, these are the Winchesters? They're like bulls in China shops. Making me clean up their messes.”

“Her? Castiel really? She's an angel?” Dean exclaims.

Castiel nods and you pull the chair and sit down. You kick your boots up against the table and mess with your blade. “We need your help, sister.”

You roll your eyes at him and sit up. “Yeah alright. What's happening?” Castiel explains the situation for you, Dean and Sam, jumping in at some points to help finalize the explanation. For a second, you catch Dean staring at you and not in general. He was staring at you. It couldn't help but make you feel tickled. “Okay, I'll help you guys out.”

You shake Sam’s hand before whooshing away.

“Her jeans make her look hot.” Dean says.

THE FOURTH TIME DEAN WINCHESTER DEALS WITH COWGIRL.

Dean Winchester was frankly tired of the two siblings. You and Castiel did everything together, never being separated. He wasn't angry about having two celestials on his team, but sometimes there had to be a mix of not having one and having one. Dean can only hear “bless their heart!” so many times in one day.

Dean is researching the case after stealing Sam’s laptop while he did something else. Castiel and Cowgirl suddenly appear together, giggling and talking about the beginning of time whenever God had Created honey bees. Castiel walks up behind Dean and questions him. “What are you doing, Dean? That is Sam’s.”

Angels weren't all the smartest in the homo sapien field. It was hard to explain to one already, but two made it even harder. One was a stuck-up angel girl with a thick accent, and one was practically a baby in a trench coat that was also angel. “I’m borrowing it.” Dean tells him.

“Oh. Okay well, me and Y/N went to see the bees. Next we're going to her farm. She has bees there!”

Woosh!

“What the hell man?” Dean whispers to himself; he can't tell if he's scared, embarrassed, or down right confused.

THE FIFTH TIME DEAN WINCHESTER DEALS WITH COWGIRL : THE BEGINNING OF SOMETHING.

They were at the bar celebrating, whiskey shots and beers crowded the small table. Sam was sharing his own experiences, mentioning Riot sometimes. Castiel sits next to you, staring at the beer sitting in front of him. You're slightly tipsy, with a huge smile on your face. Dean stares at you quietly, but his head is racing with other words.

He thinks your jean jacket you have slacked around your shoulders makes you look beautiful. The way your eyes twinkle in the dim bar lights makes him forget about the whiskey in his cold glass. Dean Winchester wants to get drunk on your beautiful smile, and how your laugh echoes in his ears.

“Dean, are you alright?” Castiel’s voice pops his thought bubble, and he sits back up and joins the conversation like nothing had happened.

“Yeah, I'm just thinking.” Dean responds and you raise your eyebrows at him, your eyes looking at him weirdly. He gives you an awkward smile and shoots back the rest of his drink before waving the bartender for a refill.

You stand up, and announce that you're going back to the motel. You catch Dean’s eye, and he gives you a small smile. He follows you, he isn't sure why, but he lets his legs take him outside to where you're sitting on top of Baby’s hood staring at the stars.

“I thought you were heading back?” Dean walks over to you, and hikes himself next to you on the hood. You look over at him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“I remember when the stars were first created. Oh, it was beautiful. I think, sometimes, I wanna be on one day.”

Dean smiles at you and lets the stars catch his attention. Your hand glides over his for a second, and he can feel the goosebumps that litter his skin.

“Can I ask you a question, Dean?”

“Shoot.” He responds.

“Do you like the stars?” He thinks for a second before nodding.

“I think they're beautiful.” Dean says, but secretly, the skies barely have his attention. Your skin is lit up by the moonlight and stars that shine.

Your lips touch his cheek, lingering for a second before you woosh away. You leave him in his dust, only left with the feeling of your lips on his cheek.

Dean Winchester was in love with an angel. It wasn't figurative either.

[rzyraffek]

This is my first time doing an ask, but I was wondering if I could request an ftm/ftnb reader x slasher fic (any character you think would fit/any character you want to add) where the reader has trouble breathing in the winter/cold and wearing their binder just makes it worse and their whole body is sore due to going up and down stairs so much so they can't keep up with the slashers longer strides and has to run after them.

Like, if the reader and the slashers were at the zoo or somewhere outside and the reader just started to take SUPER deep breaths just to be able to breathe normally or just to get air; especially after walking up or down stairs or hills.

And at one point the reader just gets tired of having to take so many deep breaths so they just go the the bathroom and take off their and layer two jackets over their shirt since they didn't bring an extra bra.

And like about 20 minutes later, reader STILL has to take super deep breaths just to actually breathe and having to run after the slashers just to be able to walk next to them; but with how sore reader is, they can't keep up with their partner and often has to take 3-minute breaks just to be able to catch their breath.

Remember binder users! You should wear them only up to 6hours daily! Dont ruin your ribcage!! I use to wear binder so yeah, I get it.

Anyways👹ofc i will write this!

So bacially, ftm s/o struggles with breathing due to binder and weather! You didn't specified which slashers so I will just go with flow on this one!

Slashers with s/o that struggles with breathing due to binder

Micheal Myers

Don't worry dude is used to noises of people choking to death lol

But fr dude gets a bit worried? He doesn't like how sometimes s/o has to take breaks just to breathe

If you guys are in rush and s/o has to take a break dude will just "hell nah fuck this" and pick s/o up

Micheal really doesn't care about gender or sex. Your a dude? 👍. There's no need to 'prove it' or look certain way for him to belive you

Brahms Heelshire

Dude fr will set a timer on his phone so s/o won't 'overdose' binder 😭

Erm honey you are starting to hyperventilate, its time for a break dont you think?

Brahms acually did his homework and read bunch of articles about binders and now he understands way more😊👍

Darling remember to exercise before and after you wear it so it less uncomfy

Finds s/o very cute and squishes them too hard sometimes

Billy Lenz

????

The fuck?Are you suffocating or something? *judges*

What feels worse? Wearing binder a bit too tight or billy sitting on your chest while your trying to sleep?

Bro doesn't understand what is "gender dysphoria" and tired to hide s/o binder once cuz he didnt trust it

Lucky for you Billy doesn't go outside, so you don't have to worry about him getting lost walking faster than you

What are pronouns?

Jason Voorhees

Oh Jason you big baby

Jason just feels bad, cuz he knows that s/o feels less cool without the binder but baby you cant breathe😭

Of course he will wait for s/o and he won't rush them at all!

Will try to convince s/o to not wear binder so often. Jason sees you as a perfect boufriend weather you wear it or no

Genuinely worried about s/o health

Asa Emory

Ah creature, why would you think that wearing binder for whole day was a good idea?

Dude is smart, he already knew what binders are!

He is aware that trans people often struggle with dysphoria and he can't just be like "dont wear a binder lol" so he tries to calming explain that nono honey you are a man even if you don't have a flat chest i love you

If he finds out that s/o whats a top surgery, Asa went "Alr bet" and then your bank account blew up

Funfact! If s/o was openly trans before they met Asa... dude was convinced that s/o just has severe asthma 😭 he was like ??? Uh do you have your inhalator with you?? Or like is it temporary???

👽guys I ate good chicken today. With sauce

Also im not sure if its good? I kinda forgot how to write entering stuff😭😰

[bun-z-bakery]

A/N: whooo finally posted everything I've written so far for this story ^^ ofc there's more I gotta post BUT we're getting somewhere!

My Angel Doesn't Need Wings (6)

The feeling of pain courses through your body, forcing you to wake from your unsolicited slumber. You instantly realize you're not in the same area as before or even remotely close to it. It took you a few seconds to remember how you got here, once you remember, the image of that creature watching you from the shadows sends a shiver down your spine.

It brought me here

At this point, it feels like you're wandering aimlessly. Home Sweet Home wasn't exactly welcoming, and the chill in the air made you feel like you were being watched.

So many eyes were on you and this time you knew you weren't imagining it. Sighing happily you open the door, leaving home sweet home the same way you came in, you only managed to take two steps before you're tackled onto the floor and pinned down by a pink blur.

"H-hey it's me!"

Kissy Missy holds you down as you try to squirm away, she was stronger than you had thought.

"NO! NO! LET THEM GO!"

That familiar voice fills your ears, you weren't exactly too happy with her but you're glad she was there to help you.

"THEY DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!!"

Kissy Missy moves off of you and helps you stand

"You're alive?! That train situation wasn't cool. What even happened?!"

You ask as you dust yourself off and straighten out your filthy and now-tattered outfit.

"It... It's a long story"

"Well I'd like an explanation"

It was more of a demand, your guard was up once again.

“You’ve been through so much… you deserve an explanation. Come on.”

She explains what you should've been filled in on a while ago. Nothing in this place makes sense and this just made it worse, you had more questions but little time to spare. Catnap, Ollie, and the prototype were new names you've never heard before, one was a friend but the other two sounded like more trouble for you.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

The sound of a phone ringing catches your attention, hesitantly you answer

"Hey... Hey can you hear me?"

A kid?!

"H-hey kiddo, ya lost?"

You're concern for him was evident, how could a child survive down here? Especially in a place like this?

"You look kinda lost. I don't want you to die- so I'm gonna help you!"

His cheerful attitude made you smile, it made you feel something after being trapped here for who knows how long...

‧₊ ๑˚.・

Ollie was able to aid you the best he could from wherever he was. If anything he helped you get further than you would've on your own. The thought of a kid being trapped down here for who knows how long makes you shiver, it makes you wonder how he even got here or managed to survive for so long on his own.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

"Crap!" Your blood rushes as sweat runs down your face. You thought the schoolhouse would be a safe place to rest if you found an empty room, but you were far wrong.

Ms.Delight was the one who roams around the school and she was horrifying; her damaged condition made the sight of her even worse.

The clicking of heels echoing behind you is hot on your tail.

"I'm gonna make it! I'm gonna make it!"

You chant as you bolt towards the room just ahead. As soon as you make it you notice there's a lever next to the entry you have no idea what it did but you pull it in hopes it still works.

You gasp and cover your mouth, gagging at the terrible crunching sound that fills your ears.

Ms.Delight was crushed under the heavy metal door. The disgusting sound of metal and plastic being crushed would haunt you for a long time. 

You move your trembling hand from your mouth and stand there, staring at her destroyed form. You back away hesitantly from the scene and sprint away.

At this point it felt like you were walking in some sort of endless maze, the hallway you found yourself in was odd, it was eerily quiet and the smell of blood was as strong as a freshly painted room.

Did they use these...as prisons?

You scan what you believe to be cells, slowly making your way through the halls, until a voice stops you.

"You..." The voice made you whip your head around, you weren't sure what you were expecting but it wasnt this...

"You're Poppy's angel, come to save us." His voice rasped. He was strung up by belts, he was mangled, filthy, and obviously left for dead. The state of him made your heartache.

"Nothing left to save, not here–" he was abruptly cut off by the weight of his arm hitting the floor. You cut the decaying belt with your switchblade. 

"Angel, please–" he pleaded as you cut the other belt and snapped. 

"NO!" Your response came out harsher than expected, but it caught his attention. He tries using his arms to sit up and stares at you; the despair in his eyes is as clear as day. 

 

"The amount of death and suffering I've seen here is enough to last all of us a lifetime," you begin as you crouch down to meet him.

"I've been helped this far by those who are tapped as well." 

You gently pet his matted ear.

"So now it's my job to do the same. No one gets left behind."

The dog sniffled as if he were holding back tears. 

"We have to go, now!" He pointed back at the little toys you both were familiar with.

"Hold on to me!"

"Wha–"

"Please there's no time!"

He cuts you off and you quickly hop onto his back, you two just barely escape the small critters.

You felt terrible that he had to drag part of himself on the floor but it couldn't be helped. You took note of his arms, they were trembling, but he did his best to keep moving.

"HOLD ON!"

You had no time to react, your body jerked as he took a sharp turn, it was difficult for you to properly take aim and use your flare hand to ward off the toys but somehow you managed to hit a few. The tight squeeze of the tunnels gave you flashbacks to when you first got here, you hate being in such a tight space and being chased through them.

"They're gaining on us!"

You shout as you try to shoot another flare at them.

"A jump is coming! Hold on!"

You brace yourself for the jump and your bodies bounce as you both make contact with the platform.

The landing was rough but you're glad you both made it. You two try to catch your breath and you make an attempt to stand, but suddenly you're back on the floor and entrapped in a tight embrace.

"Angel, you're amazing, you freed me, you... You saved me!"

His hug becomes tighter once you wrap your arms around him. "Angel" seems to be a nickname they gave you upon arriving. If it gave them even a sliver of hope, then you didn't mind being their "angel". The giant dog sobs onto your shoulder as you carefully pet him, gently reminding him he's safe now. 

 

"What's your name?"

He perks his ears up but remains silent for a moment.

"My name... is DogDay..." The hesitation in his voice made you question his intentions, but once you recognized him, you hug him tighter and smile into his chest.

"Nice to finally meet you, DogDay!"

As much as you hate to admit it, he was a bit terrifying compared to his animated counterpart that you grew up hearing stories of. But you put aside your fear to comfort the giant dog, you're his angel after all.

[charlidos]

Viggo has published two of the photos he took of Orlando (I'm sure there are plenty more. For instance that "best photo ever taken of Orlando" from getting lost in the rainforest... Will it ever be published? Fear it won't).

Elf Head is dated 1999, and in my mind this was taken very early on after Viggo arrived in NZ, October 1999. If you look at other clips and pics of Orlando in his mohawk hairdo, I don't see that long patch of hair in the neck like in this pic. It's a more extreme version here, less polished. So maybe this was an early version of the 'do.

According to what I've understood, the first scenes with Legolas didn't start shooting until after a week or so of shooting, so I think Orlando hadn't started filming anything when Viggo arrived on set (and started filming from the get go). I think they tinkered with Legolas' costume and wig for a bit at that time. For instance, I'm not sure what that collar is in the pic. Does it look like something Legolas wears in the films? In other words, I think the decision to have a mohawk might have coincided with Viggo's arrival on set. And I think this photo was taken very early on, maybe the first weeks of filming.

According to Orlando, it was Liv who suggested the style, as they'd realised that he'd need to remove most of his hair in order to facilitate putting on the Legolas' wig. But if Viggo had already arrived at this point, maybe he had something to do with it; maybe he even suggested it, and Liv thought it was a great idea.

Viggo used to be a part of the LA punk scene, via his marriage to one of its stars. I don't know to what extent he felt like a part of that scene back then, but I imagine Viggo was not only used to wild styles, hair and dress, but was perhaps rather fond of it. Finding a co-star with such an punk-ish style probably appealed to him a great deal.

Because I see a fascination in this photo. And it's not with Orlando's face, but with the hairstyle, the strange contrast of hair and pointy ears, the form of that skull and neck. Maybe he was intrigued by the contradiction of Orlando's very pretty face and the unruly, almost-ugly hair flap and strange ears.

The title "elf head" is a bit unexpected, considering the only thing even close to elvish about this portrait, is the ears. Certainly, no elf would ever have such hair, right? Unless it's a punk-elf. But maybe Viggo thought Orlando looked like a beautiful elf, no matter what hairstyle.

This photo was taken sometime in 2000, but there's no way to tell exactly when, I think. They filmed so many battles, so who knows which one. Maybe Helm's Deep, with those long, arduous weeks of night shoots, when they must have spent so much time with each other, when no one else in the main cast was even awake. There's this feeling of being in the dark in this photo, or in a twilight of sorts.

Again, there's a sense of fascination here; with the beauty of Legolas the elf, and the transformation from Orlando, the young, pretty, energetic, sweet young man to Legolas, old, wise, calm and focused. Viggo is an artist, so I imagine he's got a sense of beauty when he sees it.

There's also a sense of intimacy, like we're intruding, like we are in Orlando's mirror. Considering they shared a make-up trailer all that time, sitting beside each other, getting ready, not only for battle but for everything, it must have seemed, at times, quite intimate. Orlando studying Viggo, fascinated. And obviously, Viggo studied Orlando back, also fascinated.

I wonder if the photo was spontaneous or staged; did Viggo just catch Orlando putting in Legolas' eyes, like Orlando did every day, or did Viggo decide this was a shot he wanted and asked Orlando to pose?

I can read the added text two ways: full awe and respect, like Orlando really is transforming into Legolas, a fearsome warrior to be reckoned with. Or like it's slightly teasing: to point out the irony of this fey, lithe creature being able to fight orchs. Kind of like you'd pretend to scared of a little kid, acting like a scary monster.

After a discussion with @vamp-ress, I realised something else: these two pics have one particular thing in common, namely that they catch that twilight moment between reality and fiction. That moment when O is still O, but is about to become Legolas (or the other way around). That moment when he's neither completely O, nor completely Legolas. A transitional moment of blur between the two worlds. I imagine this is what caught Viggo's eye, that transformation.

Now, Viggo please show us the rest of your Orlando stash, I know you've got plenty!

And I'm sure Orlando does too..

[hanzajesthanza]

a lot of the “haha geralt is so annoyed by his friends!!” talk reduces the relationship of geralt & co. to the events of baptism of fire—baptism of fire geralt is very enjoyable to read, but lady of the lake geralt is the final evolution of a beautiful development of character. we really ought to talk more often about how his relationship with his company developed over the next two books and how by the end of it, he felt entirely responsible for their fates.

it can’t really be said that the hanza didn’t mean a lot to geralt and he would have chosen ciri & yen over them no problem. by the end of it he really valued their friendship and company. he literally identified himself as their leader, embraced his role as their leader. only with their company, he was finally able to fully ascended to what he is at heart and who he was meant to be, what his character was created to be: a hero.

he never liked to play sacrificial games. the entire reason he shunned (the majority of) the company (sorry cahir, he took extra issue with you) was that it was too dangerous of an undertaking, and he did not want to risk the lives of anyone else for his personal matters, sticking their necks out for him. it wasn’t just because he’s an old grump and sourpuss—he literally tells this to dandelion and milva multiple times, that he doesn’t want them dying because of him.

he decided against anything that would have put milva in danger when she was pregnant, refusing to risk her life or her unborn child’s life—remaining adamant that he would not sacrifice her child’s life for his own. and similarly when codringher presented him the hypothetical of pawning a decoy girl off on emhyr, he was disgusted at the thought of trampling the life of some innocent girl for the safety of his own.

virtuous to a fault, geralt abhors stepping on another to lift himself up. he won’t even kill innocent creatures to make a quick buck—they have to be real dangers—which, of course, makes him not only poorer and hungrier, but fighting, you guessed it, more dangers. this makes geralt unlike many of the other characters we’re presented with, who, even though they may not want to, agree to make sacrifices for their personal interests or the greater good (though, what’s the difference—the lodge and emhyr called their personal interests the greater good. that’s a big point of how the decisions of those in power is deconstructed in the saga).

i don’t think geralt would have sacrificed his company, given a choice.

but he did choose, of course, despite not being given a choice. it was a necessary sacrifice, though geralt, being the man he is, would never have made such a choice given the option (like the trolley problem—he’s impossible, he would continue to insist that neither of these choices are good and he doesn’t want to choose). i don’t want to kill either shrike or stregobor, i don’t want to take a side in the war, i don’t want to ride to cintra and claim my destiny. the whole saga is about how no matter if you decide to choose or not to choose, destiny still makes you choose. even if you think you can deny and avoid the choice. and after such denial, it stops asking you nicely. death dogs his footsteps, but death couldn’t catch up with him (for a while, at least), so it had to settle for others… the hanza are another, perhaps a final, manifestation of this lesson—calanthe and cintra being the first victims.

he and cahir dragged milva’s dead and bleeding body to safety, risking their own lives in the hail of arrows which rose again once she had fallen. his noble and virtuous heart still looked for cahir and angoulême in the corridor after the fighting had ceased, waiting for them to come out of the empty hall, before ciri shook her head to tell him no one would be coming down it. his scream rung in the air with regis’ as regis was being torn apart. and he, in pain and exhausted, remembered him, to yennefer when she asked, as a friend, and managed to utter some beautifully kind words in his memory.

i don’t think someone like geralt (feeling responsible for deaths of innocents whether they’re even his fault or not) would ever truly get over the loss of his company. after having, with ciri, buried them, by the foot of stygga castle, having to drag the bodies out one by one, close their glassy eyes, mound the wet and cold earth over them. and regretfully glance back at the melted stone column he cannot bury. he was woefully dreary after stygga, and kept returning to their memory as they retraced their steps into the sansretour valley. reminding himself about the sword of destiny with two edges… and again at rivia mourning them with the dwarven company.

we can at least sigh with relief that destiny allowed him to keep dandelion. it had to, because he is just, after all “like a burr on a dog’s tail”—destiny did not quite manage to slip its noose around his neck, for he did not touch destiny, but instead tagged alongside it. (plus, the cameraman never dies). if dandelion died, it would have broken geralt well and truly. it was the longest and deepest connection he ever had. the same goes for the reverse, of course 😬

[colderdrafts]

12 - Tomorrow

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. First Previous Next

It should be around here, shouldn't it?

You stretch your back with a sigh, sore from standing bent forward for a bit too long. You've been wandering around the forest outside Dren’s home for a while now, scanning the ground for your lost device. It’s a hazzle pushing past bushes and leaf litter, remnants of the storm’s destruction not helping matters.

"A little black square with a dark 'skreen'," Dren repeats to himself for the third time, voice balancing uncertainty like he believes this is an elaborate prank. Still, he’s adamant to assist your pursuit, moving through his own forest space. He blows some of his unruly black locks out of his face when leaning down. "And it allows you to talk to someone at once, despite not being in their vicinity?"

"Yep," you call over your shoulder, jumping over some heavy fallen branches. "Very handy, if I do say so myself."

Dren hums in agreement.

There's a loud crash from his direction, and you spin on your heel at the sudden sound.

You find Dren casually hurling timber of a fallen tree further into the woods to get a better look at the bushes crushed underneath it. He picks up another large log with his front legs, seemingly unaware of his startling you, gets his arms under it, and simply throws it aside with a low grunt of effort.

You can’t resist admiring his casual strength for a moment. The perfect sync between the two halves of his body, despite them being put together in such a strange way, are like two separate creatures working together as a unit.

Dren looks up from the lumber he’s been toiling with, catching your eye. There’s a certain knowing warmth in his expression, and it makes you briefly wonder if he was showing off on purpose.

You distract yourself by looking back to your own bushes.

"Damn, give me a heart attack, would you?" you laugh, busying yourself by moving away branches. "What did those poor trees do to you?"

"I would prefer not to," Dren replies simply, grabbing and throwing aside another fallen log. "And they got in my wa – ah, oops. Apologies, critter."

There’s a frantic rustling and movement from something low on the forest floor. Seems his lumbering startled a brown ground-dwelling bird from it's hide in the underbrush. It flaps it's wings from the scare with a shriek, darting left, then right, then settling for the nearest exit being between Dren’s legs, under his abdomen, and then out on the open path.

Dren patiently stands very still while the bird figures out how to ‘escape’ him. It quickly seeks shelter in the deeper forest.

"Careful over there, 'Scary'," you tease him, watching the poor creature go. "We’re not out here to disturb the wildlife."

"I did apologize," Dren chuckles, re-starting his previous task.

You smile fondly, and return to your own patch.

The area you’re in should be around the place where you first appeared when the Darkness yanked you, if your ability to estimate distance is still functional. You had a palm on a tree, and from there you spotted the rocky entrance to the cave – it should be around here somewhere. You grin as another loud crash follows Dren’s part of the objective. He’s as destructive as the storm at this point.

It takes a while, combing the forest floor with shared effort. You cover as many bases as you can, desperation pushing you past the boundaries of your initial estimations. No dice. Perhaps it’s ambitious to think you’d be able to locate a small phone in an entire forest.

Perhaps it’s ambitious to think it’ll allow you to leave, something inside your mind purrs.

You stubbornly ignore both the thought, and the aching in your heart that comes along with it. The annoying pressure, however, remains.

The path you followed when you were walking home that fateful night isn’t exactly as you remember, but again, this is not where you used to be. You suppress a humored snort when yet another soft thud comes from the forest – yet halt, when you realize the sound didn’t come from Dren’s direction.

Careful.

Right after, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. And judging from the sound of the gait, it’s someone walking on two legs.

You look around, and true enough, further down the path you spot a sole individual calmly walking towards you. Anxiety spikes in you at the sight. There’s no way the stranger haven’t heard you rustling about, and now, they’ve seen you too. From this distance you spot canine features of the stranger’s face, and a furry body clad in protective leather.

You quietly look her in the eye at her approach, hesitant to call for Dren to put him and his young in a dangerous spot. And for all you know, your paranoia is completely unneeded.

The wolf-person approaches, eyeing you. Her face is relaxed, and no teeth bares when she speaks.

“Why are you out here on your own, sentry?” the wolf asks in a clear voice, stopping a generous few meters from you. You note a sharp spear attached to her back, the point glinting slightly in the dwindling sunlight.

“I’m not,” you inform the wolf.

“They’re not,” Dren reaffirms, appearing from between the trees. He swiftly steps to your side, not taking his eyes off the wolf you’re talking to. He chitters lowly. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be out and about?”

The wolf immediately focuses on him, subtly taking a wary step back. “Isn’t it a little late for you?” she counters.

Dren hisses. “Not quite yet.”

The adversary attitude is slightly concerning. As much as Dren is solitary, he usually at least maintains a polite demeanor when talking to other common-folk. That he deliberately has cast it away in favor of beefing himself up a bit tells you this is not just any common-folk.

You’d probably do well to get out of this interaction as soon as possible.

“You should leave,” you tell the wolf, trying your best to sound disarming. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither do I,” the wolf replies, looking at you. “I was just out for a walk when I heard you scurrying about. Not often we see your kind around here.”

“I get that a lot,” you grumble. You nod toward the road. “Now you’ve seen me. You can go now.”

“That I have,” she agrees. She eyes Dren. “Lucky one, eh? Are you-”

“Leave,” Dren cuts her off with a snarl, not so subtly letting the wolf know his patience is running thin.

You pause to look at him and find his eyes hardened, subtly brandishing his fangs. You’ve not seen him like this since the clash with Morgan. You can almost feel the vibrations in the air from his lower body searching for any indication of an attack.

You slowly step closer to him – you know he can feel you coming – and place your palm against the side of his waist. His warmth is there immediately, but it doesn’t travel through you as usual. Dren doesn’t remove his eyes from the wolf.

“-looking for something?” the wolf continues regardless, watching your attempt to calm her adversary. She plants her feet slightly apart, like preparing to bolt.

“What’s it to you?” you ask, trying to sound calm. Better keep things smooth while the wolf is still here.

“Nothing. Just curious,” the wolf replies cautiously. “And I’ve found this thing. It smells like you, so I put two and two together.”

The wolf carefully reaches into a pocket with her other palm out, a placating gesture. And, of course, she pull back out your black ‘skreen’, holding it with two clawed fingers like it could burn her if she's not careful.

Drat.

“This is what you’re looking for, isn’t it?” the wolf asks, sounding almost like a statement. She could probably spot the way your eyes widened at the sight of it.

There’s no point lying. That is, indeed, a thing you very much need.

“It is,” you reply as casually as you can. “I lost it a while ago.”

“Give it back,” Dren demands. “It doesn't belong to you.”

“Well, it doesn't belong to you either, by the looks of it,” the wolf growls back at him. She focuses on you. “It belongs to the sentry. So. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give it back no trouble, and you make sure your custodian lets me leave this forest alive?”

Alive? What? Does she honestly think that – well. A look at your companion, and supposedly it’d make sense for her to think that she maybe won’t. It still surprises you just how easily violent this world can get. But why even approach you then?

He’s not my- is in the front of your mind for a reply, but perhaps it’s better shut off for now. The wolf assumes you have any inkling of control over Dren’s actions, and that might work to your advantage here. As far as you know him, Dren doesn't want to fight either, he’s just determined to show he’s well prepared in case things were to escalate. Perhaps you can utilize that advantage so they don’t.

“Alright. Give me my device, and you can go,” you state, gently squeezing Dren’s side. You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for, or asking for permission to speak on his behalf. “I promise.”

The wolf observes you for a second, assessing your words. Supposedly deciding to trust them, she casually throws the phone to you. You manage to catch it.

“I’ll be on my way, then,” the wolf says. “Done deal.”

She casts one last glance back at you, before swiftly retreating into the deeper woods.

You can feel Dren’s leg pressing against your back. You lean against his side and put your hand on it, feeling the rough hairs there underneath your palm.

“You alright?” you ask lowly.

Dren is quiet a moment, staring at the hastily retreating back of the wolf. He huffs. “No. I do not like their kind, and I especially do not like them this close to my home.”

“That was a hunter, wasn’t it?” you say. You hesitate a moment. “What do you think she was doing here?”

“Scouting,” Dren growls. “Common-folk like her don’t go far from their homes for pleasantries.”

You could choose to hope that a pleasant walk to take in the brown and red hues of fall in this forest would be motivation enough for the wolf. But even you know that's probably naive.

“I have a guess as to what they’re scouting for,” you mutter, looking up at your companion.

Dren gives a short nod, still looking dead ahead. “You’d be correct.”

And curse your correctness, because here you are, having just let a new potential threat to Dren’s existence go on its merry way.

Should you have let him take care of it instead?

Dren keeps staring in the direction to wolf left, waiting a minute until she's completely out of view. He takes a deep breath, and leans down to gently press his face against your cheek momentarily. You lean back into him, reveling in his comforting warmth in the cool air around you.

“I’m sorry. Should I not have – should you just have -” you ask, without finishing the sentence.

“No,” Dren replies quickly. “There’s no need to fight today if it can be avoided. I will deal with this at another time.” He sighs, and gently nudges you to change the tone a bit. “But we got your skreen, did we not?”

“My ‘skreen’,” you echo him, smiling while holding it up for display. “Yeah. We did.”

You press the power button momentarily. Nothing happens. Either it’s out of power, or the rain and laying in the cold, wet dirt for who knows how long has simply done enough damage to break it.

Dren zeroes in on the strange device in your hands, squinting and blinking in succession. It’s as if he's trying to get it to tell him its secrets.

"What an odd little thing," he muses. Then he looks at you and smiles. "The ‘skreen’ as well, I suppose."

You snort, and playfully push at his furred shoulder. "Very funny. But this is awesome! Maybe now I actually have a better shot at getting this whole Darkness business attracted to this place again."

"And how will this work?” Dren asks, intrigued. “Will you be able to catch the Darkness with this object of yours?"

His question makes you pause. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought too far ahead on that aspect of your plan. You’d mainly focused on getting a starting point. Yet now the device rests easily in your palm, and so far nothing has happened.

"I'm not really sure," you admit. "My idea was like - waving it around and hope something happens. ‘Darkness grows in the spaces between us’, so maybe if I create one point for magic and one without..? You know, me and the phone on one end, this whole shabbang of a world on the other?” you continue, feeling the weight of your words crumbling the already paper-thin plan.

You take a second to adjust to the feeling. Dren patiently watches you think things through.

“In hindsight, probably not? Then maybe it would have happened by now," you ponder, turning the phone over in your hands. "So what am I missing?"

Perhaps you got too caught up in a potential easy fix to think it the whole way through. Why should this work any differently than you just being here, without any magic in you?

Dren thinks for a beat, frowning. He gets the same expression when he tries to remember something he’s read. "I’m still not well-versed in this – but the harpy also said magic is quite simple. Perhaps it’s just as you said. Maybe we need to cultivate a space where it can grow. Between us," Dren thinks out loud. “Magic and non-magic. Like you and me.”

"What you mean like - the two of us?” you ask. “You want to help me?"

"If I can," Dren nods. “She said your skreen is completely non-magic? And it’s in a place it’s not supposed to be in. It’s an outlier in this world. Something that’s bound to attract attention.”

“So if we try and generate a space, and have the pho-screen as, what, some sort of a lure?”

“Maybe?” Dren says. “We could give it a try.”

“I thought you said magic’s dangerous,” you argue. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Well, I will not do anything beyond my natural abilities,” Dren reassures you. “I’m not the strongest, but perhaps I can – nudge, a reaction a bit.”

“How?”

“I’ll do what I would normally do,” Dren says. “But I will not tie anything together. I promised I would never deliberately use my ability with you, and this is not my intend here.”

No strings attached. Do you trust it’ll stay that way?

“Alright,” you say assuredly, showing the thought down. “If you think it’ll work.”

“Truthfully, I have no idea. But working or not, you will feel it,” Dren warns. He’s wringing his hands again. “It will only affect you.”

“I know,” you say, remembering the harpy’s words. You’re not sure you understand exactly what Dren aims to do, considering the natural limits to his abilities. But you do understand he wouldn’t do anything if he didn’t feel both of you could handle it. He's had odd ideas before. Might as well indulge him in this one. “Well. It’s worth a shot.”

Later you’re back outside the entrance to the cave – away from prying eyes – and Dren has directed you to stand a few paces away from him. The phone is placed in the middle. Seem the idea is to take it very literally, and using it to symbolize the space between you.

It almost feels a little silly, standing around to do this sort of odd improvised ritual. But worst case, nothing happens, and you're back to square one. Might as well check all bases. The cool air gently blows through the trees, and you glance at the place where you planted your flowers. A thought of how they might be doing down there in the dirt passes.

“Ready?” Dren asks, perhaps noting your momentary distraction.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Go ahead.”

Dren closes his eyes, and you can hear him chittering, claws working on the ground, sensing the air all around him. He steps in place for a bit, like trying to find a proper spot to hold on to. You stand to attention, suddenly feeling a little anxious as you wait in silence.

Dren opens his eyes suddenly, settling on something, and juts forward, completely locking his focus on you.

He catches your eye with a vivid stare that drills into you, so intense you simply can't tear your eyes away from it. His eyes are like four black holes, eager to swallow you in your entirety.

You feel a shift in the temperature as something warm slowly, slowly creeps up over your arms and gently flows through your skin, comforting and familiar. It’s Dren’s influence, you realize, the extend of what he can do. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a tingling sensation all over. It’s very much unlike the unpleasant experience you had with a certain other person who did something similar.

“Dren-” you breathe softly, feeling the warmth traveling through your bones, and you find you mostly just want it to keep going.

He purrs in response, and you stare into his eyes and find nothing there but pure contentment, enjoying being able to feel you so intimately. Then you can feel a want to go further, get closer, get inside, and a pain, a struggle, trying to hold himself back. You’re reaching for him as much as he is you, and the space between you is almost maddening, churning with need from forced separation.

“Don’t,” Dren hisses suddenly, and you realize you’ve taken a few steps toward him. You didn't even notice when you started moving. “Don’t come any closer.”

Your vision gets blurry as you suddenly get woozy, just feeling the sensation of Dren’s whole being intertwining with yours.

Dren says something again, and you can’t make it out. His voice seems fuzzy and obstructed, like listening through heavy glass. It takes another second to realize that you didn’t see his mouth moving. Dren wasn’t the one trying to speak.

Something wraps around you limbs, and there’s a scurrying of movement all around you, almost like a noise of rapid steps through water. Suddenly it’s hard to breathe, a dizzying and suffocating cloud surrounding you. There’s a stranger there, an outlier, something that doesn’t fit, and I want to get to it, tie it down, I want to understand it, I want to have it, see it, hear it, feel it, love it, make it mine -

It’s quiet.

And it’s dark. You don’t remember closing your eyes, but you do dare open them again.

There, in the space between you and Dren, on top of the phone, is a small, black void. It gently flows and sways, independent of the wind.

It’s like a hole in the air itself. The complete opposite of taking up space.

The sight makes your brain hurt and you gasp in surprise. In an instant it’s gone, as is Dren’s warmth, and you find yourself shivering from the sudden cold that claws its way through you, gripping tight.

No, no, no, no, something inside you squeals like in a panic. No!

Dren’s breathing heavily, closing and opening his fists, his legs stepping in place, agitated. “No,” he mutters to himself, gritting his teeth. He rubs his face with his hands in distress. “No.”

“Dren-?” you call out warily, still staring at the spot where the thing vanished. Your legs feel wobbly, and you support yourself with a hand on a tree. The tightness in your chest increases tenfold and you hiss in pain. “Are you okay?”

Dren looks up at you through his fingers, focusing on calming his breath. “Yes,” he whispers.

You keep your eyes on the spot the void vanished. “Whatever you did - I- I think it worked.”

“Yes,” Dren says again. He swallows hard. “I think it did, too.”

“But – what the hell was that other thing?” you voice feels hoarse. “That wasn’t you, was it?”

“I-” Dren begins. “I don’t think so? It didn’t feel like it.”

Is that just what interacting with darkness feels like? It didn’t exactly feel like Morgan, either. But you most certainly feel them now. You put your hand over your chest and breathe deeply, waiting for it to settle.

“Why did you stop?” you ask once you’ve calmed a bit.

“I – I wasn’t ready, yet,” Dren replies. “It was a test, and now we know we can do it. But I felt like – like I was throwing you away. I want to plan when we do it for real.” He fidgets with his hands, settling down to your eye level with a huff. “This is not going to be easy.”

You cautiously approach the phone lying in the grass, staring at the innocent looking thing. Nothing about it suggests right now it has just acted like some sort of artifact of the human world, helping you gain access to darkness. Still, you carefully step around it like it’s firework that hasn’t gone off as it should.

“Seems you can do that kind of magic, after all,” you tease him gently, settling down next to him and leaning against his side.

Dren breathes out in relief, wrapping a pedipalp around your middle and pulling you to him. He hesitates. “I don’t know what I did. I thought I just connected with you without – tying, anything.”

“Whatever it was, it worked. We created the space we needed,” you reassure him, idly running your hand over the appendage around your stomach.

“We did,” he agrees quietly.

"Dren?” you say.

“Yes?”

You look up at him. “Do you have any idea what an actual fucking genius you are?"

His face slightly flushes from the sudden compliment. He waves you off. "Come now, I just-"

"Nope,” you state, reaching for him. He obliges and leans down, and you cup his face, staring him in the eye. “Actual genius, right there. Doing magic on the fly like that. You figured this whole thing out. And, you read non-fiction for fun."

Dren laughs softly, carefully putting his palms over your hands on his face. "I am a nerd.”

You grin, leaning your forehead against his. "Damn right you're a nerd."

You can feel his mandibles brushing across your cheek as he leans in further, settling with his arms over your shoulders. There’s an odd pull in your face then, heat in your cheeks of anticipation at the subtle movement, like you were expecting a kiss.

"Now we know it works – when will we do this?" Dren asks calmly. It doesn’t seem he’s noticed. “When will we try this out?”

"Well - whenever we can, I guess?" you ponder, absentmindedly running a thumb over his cheek. "I mean -"

That would be it, wouldn’t it? You still for a moment, indulging in his warmth like a reassurance.

"Tomorrow?" Dren suggests helpfully, gently squeezing you. "I will not stop you if you wish to go at once, but if you'll indulge me for one last evening, I would love to keep you for a bit. Even though I know it selfish," he chuckles. "But it's up to you."

"Tomorrow," you repeat, holding him a little tighter. In some way, ‘tomorrow’ doesn't sound very pleasant either. "Yeah. Sounds good."

Back at the cave you take a seat in front of the fireplace in the now-finished woven chair. Dren settles on your right.

"I'm sorry you went through all this trouble to craft this and now I won’t even be able to use it much," you sigh, gesturing at the item. It’s very comfortable. "But I'm grateful none the less."

Dren smiles at you, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. "It's alright. Maybe I can trade it come spring."

"Or maybe you'll find someone else who can make use of it," you joke suggestively, elbowing his side in an attempt to lighten the mood. It’s your joke, but even you feel it doesn’t really alleviate anything.

Dren politely let’s it pass without acknowledging it. He focuses on the fireplace, and you watch as the light dances in his black eyes. "Maybe."

A silence settles over the living room for a moment. Usually conversation flows so naturally in his company, but seemingly you both find yourselves at a loss for words.

"You look tired all the time," you tell him eventually, just to say something. “I’m worried about you, you know.”

"Well, you needn’t worry, but I am tired," he replies, humored. "My body is merely preparing for the next coming time. It’s completely normal."

He sounds reassuring, but a lingering thought remains with you. Mainly having to do with who you encountered in the woods today. Supposedly your plan will work, but you’re leaving Dren behind in a state more risky than when he first found you. A gnawing guilt forces you to address it.

You grab his hand and squeeze it. “Dren what are you going to do – about the hunter and-”

“Do not concern yourself with this,” Dren says immediately, almost startling you. He looks at you intently. “This is not your issue. I’ve dealt with this before, and I can do so again.”

You pause and look into him for a moment. He’s being very genuine – he truly doesn’t believe you should fight his battles.

But there’s something else there, a subtle fear that rings so deeply into his very being, something you know he’s been fighting his entire life. And it’s about to happen again. And he doesn’t have any assurance, again, to what the outcome of all of this will be.

Still, he’s adamant that you should go. It’s almost infuriating.

You sigh. “But-”

“No. I am too fond of you to force you into any more danger of my world,” he says seriously. “Tomorrow, we will summon darkness again. You will interact with it, and you will go back home.”

“Dren,” you say patiently, equally serious. “I brought this hunter here. If they try to get to you-”

He smiles then, a fondness over your protectiveness. It stops you dead in your tracks.

“They will always try to get to me,” he says, a little softer. “They would have found me sooner or later, no matter where I went. This particular individual would have come all the same, had you been here or not. Do not take this guilt when it’s not yours to carry. Me and mine will be fine.”

He sounds so certain. But you’re not sure who he’s trying to convince.

You glance down and find one of his hands is now on your waist. You don’t know what else to do, so you simply let yourself fall into him, reaching your arms around the space where his torso meets the abdomen, your face leaning against his chest.

Dren envelops you at once. “Sweetness-” he sighs.

You share a moment of calm, listening to his gentle chittering, feeling his arms around you, breathing in his reassuring earthy scent. Then, you feel him take a deep breath before he reaches down, grabs onto your legs with his pedipalps and promptly lifts you off the ground.

“Woah, hey!” you laugh, shifting your grip and adjust your arms around his shoulders instead, when suddenly he starts walking. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going for a walk,” Dren mutters. His voice is warm on your neck, and he gently squeezes you. “Or, well. I’ll be walking. You’ll just - be here.”

“My favorite place to be,” you joke. He hums in response.

Dren brings you to the blue cave once again, the twinkling lights on the side of the cave shining like small stars.

“Hold on,” he warns, before he grabs hold of the side of the wall and starts climbing.

You let out a startled noise at the sudden movement, and hang onto Dren a little tighter.

“Almost there,” Dren reassures you with a chuckle. You get the feeling he’s enjoying this.

He doesn't stop there, bringing you up the far wall and stretches again, reaching for the roof. There’s a sudden pull in your body as your world’s is turned around. You’re upside down.

“Dren,” you protest, feeling the blood rush to you head. “Hey-!”

He turns you around and settles you over his chest, him hanging upside down, using the strings around him like a makeshift hammock. You’re lying flat against his chest, your legs dangling freely over the space where his torso and abdomen meet.

“Is this alright?” Dren teases once you’ve settled a little better. His hands are on your thighs, a reminder he’s not going to let you fall.

“A little warning might’ve been appreciated,” you grunt, eyeing the very hard rock of the cave floor below. Then you stare at the annoying arachnid looking up at you with bemused wonder in his eyes, and you unfortunately can’t find it in yourself to be mad at him. Just like he probably planned.

You give in easily, and lean down to rest against him again, and his hands travel up over your back, securing you there.

“But yeah. This is very much okay,” you sigh, feeling his warmth once again.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Dren admits quietly, almost embarrassed. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no,” you placate quickly. You reach your arms up to reach the back of his head, running your fingers through the unruly mess that is his hair. “No. It’s nice.”

He hums in delight at the attention.

You don’t know how long you lie there in the silence, just enjoying the quiet moment. A lot has happened, hasn't it? You've been her for a little over a week, and barely graced the surface of everything in this world. If anyone is looking for you back home, what will you tell them when you get back?

How could you ever explain what's brought you here? But if Darkness got you here in the first place, who's to say it won't get you back again someday?

Maybe you'd want it to. Then there's a churning inside you, and it turns to 'maybe not'.

“Hey, Dren?” you call out softly after a while.

His response is a chitter and a very deep breath. It would seem he’s fast asleep.

You suppress a laugh, leaving him to his rest. Your brainstorming can wait. “Sleep tight.”

You close your eyes to give in to the moment you’re sharing with him. But you don’t sleep right away. Partially, maybe, it’s because you want to remain here, awake to experience this fully. Another part, unwelcome and annoyingly clawing at the back of your mind, says it wouldn’t be wise to drift off just yet.

And why not? It’s late, you probably should get some sleep. Stubbornly, you lean your face into the crook of Dren’s neck. Still, try as you might to cling to the comforting heat radiating off of him, it’s not quite enough. Something demands your attention, and you once again find your peace broken.

Maybe it’s the disturbance from earlier that’s been amplifying the pain in your heart. Maybe it’s the way you’ve been trying to ignore it. Maybe it’s just getting stronger.

Or maybe it just knows you're going away soon. You can almost smell them.

"I'm going," you whisper to no one through gritted teeth, taking refuge in the warmth of the body you’re resting on. "And you can't stop me."

Don't, something inside you says. Don't. Please don't.

From the arms around your back to the chest rising and falling under your chin and to the faint pull on your heart, you can't tell who's asking this of you.

There’s a disturbance in your body, and you try to focus on shutting it down, anything to alleviate the maddening pressure inside of you. You feel clammy and cold, like a fever is coming on, anxious and restless. Like your body is anticipating something will go terribly wrong, despite you being tucked away in Dren’s arms, as safe as you can possibly get.

You look at the face next to you, sleeping peacefully, and lean in, pressing your forehead against his and enjoying the low purr that escapes him as you do so.

Fuck, tomorrow is going to be the roughest day of your life, isn't it? The fact that you wouldn't wake up to hearing his voice or being able to indulge in his warmth anymore? The thought makes your heart ache, the dull pull of your parasite alongside the pain of losing someone who’s grown so close to you. You brush a strand of his unruly black hair out of his face, staring at the four closed eyelids. Almost like you want him to wake up so you can talk for a little more, just bask in his presence while you still can.

How selfish. He’s nearing hibernation and needs his rest. He’s going to miss you as much as you’ll miss him, and you shouldn’t make it harder than it needs to be.

You carefully unravel yourself from his arms, silently apologizing as he stirs slightly.

Move, you think. I need to move. Get a clear head again before you’ll be able to fully rest.

“Dren?” you say, leaning back to look at his sleeping face. “Could you let me down?”

He doesn’t respond, so you gently cup his face, watching his mandibles click together as you do.

“Could you let me down?” you ask again, nudging him.

One of his eyes finally cracks open to take you in. Then, the three others follow. He blinks in succession, bleary. “Hmm?”

“I’m getting a little restless. I think I’ll go get some water,” you elaborate. “But you’ll need to let me down.”

Dren closes his eyes again and, with a groan, grips around your stomach with his front legs. He gingerly lifts you off of him, rolls over, stretches toward the ground, and places you on the floor.

He retreats back under the ceiling. “Let me know when you’re done,” he yawns.

A second later, his breathing evens out.

Slowing down, huh? The guy is close to a full stop. Good thing he’s still able to recognize you.

You get going. If anything, a brisk walk should help clear your head.

You reach the lake shortly after, letting the sights of the glinting lanterns sparkling in the dark water, the sounds of gentle droplets and flow wash over you. You sigh, and lean down to wash up a bit.

The cool water brings some clarity. The gnawing anxiety seems a little lesser now that you’ve given your flight-response something to work with, but it’s still there. Why didn’t Dren’s presence calm it this time? You were literally right on top of him.

Something’s wrong.

“Yeah, no shit,” you grumble, splashing some more water on your face.

It’s not enough. I need to move.

And go where? It’s in the middle of the night.

Still, walking feels right, right now. Perhaps you should take the last opportunity you have to do some exploration. You've somewhat learned the back and forth between the places you mostly frequent, but this system is huge - you're honestly curious to see what else Dren hides in these walls.

You huff, picking back up a lantern to continue. Yeah, that’s better. Just gotta keep moving.