#sci-fi romance thriller

[mortala-if]

Mortala, the word, derives from the Latin adjective "Mortalis." meaning "subject to death." Comparable to the English word "Mortal." meaning the same. —

You live in a rotting world. And that's not a metaphor.

You've known that since you can remember. It's a fact that's been drilled into your mind on repeat.

A rotting world that you must not explore. Stay where you are, stay where you're familiar with, stay where you're comfortable— In The Cinders with your older brother.

The Cinders might not look pretty, but it's not horrible. Steer clear of most streets, keep your head down, don't poke around in other people's business, and you'll be fine. You've learned to navigate pretty well, not to toot your own horn.

Plus, you've got a job, and so does your brother. Not good ones, but ones that can, with a joint salary, keep a crumbling roof over your heads. —

Another thing that's been forced into your mind since you were spoon-fed is to never, ever disobey Belamour.

Belamour is a peaceful organization that was made to keep you safe. To do this, they have strict laws in place, and officers crawl over the cities to make sure you follow them. They are not a government, and they make it very known that they are not.

If you fail to obey, you'll get sent to your city's rehabilitation center! Isn't that nice? Or, on the worse side, you can end up in the Belamour Rehabilitation Center all the way in The Frost.

You and your brother made an agreement when you were very little that you would stick together, and neither of you would break any of the rules for fear of being sent to a rehabilitation center.

. . . An agreement your brother broke.

Now you have to find out how to get him the fuck out of there.

Mortala is a 16+ game due to explicit language, violence, death, anxiety, mention of past emotional abuse (not of MC), messy relationships, and more. A detailed trigger warning list will be listed before every chapter.

Customize the flawed main character, ranging from their gender to their style. (Semi-set personality. Set last name and age.)

Make risky choices that might result in you dying or being injured.

Build relationships between characters, romanceable and not.

Finally wipe The Cinders' ashes off you and explore more than just the burnt city you grew up in.

Go against everything you were taught growing up.

Lie to save your (and your brother's) skin.

These characters are not all romanceable, and you will not meet most of these characters until Chapter Two. Also, it's important to note that not all these characters have plot armor. This does not include sub-romances or all the characters you'll interact with.

FINNLEY ROSE. ✩ ---- Finnley has raised you since you were 5, making him 11 when you started to rely on him. You never really understood the gravity of that until you were in your late teenage years, and that's when you really started to appreciate him. You regret things you've said to him, how you've hurt him— and lately, with his absence, that's all you can think about. ---- His skin is a shade lighter than yours, the same textured hair as yours, and he has brown hooded eyes outlined with eyelashes that make you jealous. He stands at 6 feet, 2 inches. (187.96cm)

HIRO LA'EI. ✩ ---- Hiro has been your best friend since you were in diapers. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. You genuinely think he might be one of the sweetest people alive, despite what others might assume, and he jumps at the chance to help you with anything. . . ---- He has tan skin, wavy dark brown hair, and pretty doe-like brown eyes. He stands at 5 feet, 10 inches. (177.8cm) ! Option to have a crush on him— it goes nowhere, though.

MEDUSA CALIXTE. ♡ ---- Medusa. What can you say about Medusa? To put it plainly, she's your best friend's ex-girlfriend. She broke up with him and gave no reason. At the time of their relationship, you thought she was. . . interesting, for lack of a better word, and when she left your best friend, it took a huge toll on him, and from the looks of it, it barely affected her. ---- She has russet brown skin, coiled light brown hair, often shoulder-length and worn in dreads, and upturned hazel eyes. She stands at 5 feet, 2 inches. (157.48cm)

MONROE HALILI. ♡ ---- Your brother's best friend. They're concerned, and not just about their best friend. They're observant, annoyingly so, and can tell how bad his leave has affected you. Obviously, due to their status, they've taken it upon themselves to check on you- wanted or not. ---- They have deep tawny skin, curly black hair with white underneath, and dark brown monolid eyes framed with long, naturally curled eyelashes. He stands at 6 feet tall. (182.88cm) ! Option to have a childhood crush on them. (Three-year age gap.)

LIVIA ALARIE. ✩ ---- Monroe's daughter. From what you heard from your brother, she's incredibly timid- Oh, and she's smiled at him. (He wouldn't shut up about it for a week.) You've never seen her or talked to her yet. ---- She has tawny skin, wavy black hair that reaches below her ears, and dark brown almond eyes. She stands at 3 feet, 7 inches. (109.22cm)

VIVIAN DE LA CRUZ. ♡ ---- Your ex. You still think about them occasionally— you don't date someone for 5 years and forget about them even if you want to. You don't like how things ended, but you don't know if you want to see them again. ---- They have warm golden skin, light blue wavy hair, and downturned brown eyes. They stand at 6ft, 1 inch. (185.42cm) ! Details of the past relationship in their character profile.

Character profiles

Hiro La'ei Medusa Calixte Monroe Halili Vivian de la Cruz

Informational posts

The Cities Belamour Organization

Outside of Tumblr links

Playlists Pinterest Demo/Proof of concept

Extra

My other interactive fiction blog @destined-if My personal account @bunnifly

Important

My banner is by Thomas Dubois This interactive fiction is very loosely inspired by The Hunger Games

Thank you for reading ♡

[roxysretrodrive-in]

Poll: Horror and Other Genres

We all love horror, but combining it with other genres is also great.

[thepariahcontinuum]

MARZ Rising - Chapter 129: Hook, Line and Sinker

An attempt to get information from a contact in the criminal underworld of Menagerie does not go to plan.

FF Net

Ao3

[iamthesloth]

Third release of the year!

Participating on my second jam, I finished this ehh ... Horror? Drama? Romance? ... A story :) You can play HERE

Isla is a biology aficionada, and Cameron not so much, but she’s going to a biology summer camp. Of course he’s not going to waste their summer by not going with her. After all, she’s leaving to university soon, far away T-T 

Will their month-long vacation strengthen their bond, or will it be its end?

Play as Cameron or Isla

11k+ words total

2 routes

4 endings, or 8 if you count both POVs

A soundtrack compiled by me :)

Or, the Spotify playlist I made for this project

PS: I'll probably do a short devlog about this soon.

[chhopsky]

Oh hello New Astoria followers :)

I thought it'd be fun to do one of these. People either really like them or really hate them but i absolutely died thinking about what these would be for NA and it was too funny not to share.

For early access to the first book, head over to newastoria.tv

Sign up for the alpha reader program and get access to the discord server to discuss with other fans of emotionally damaged biomechanically enhanced lesbians 🦾💞

[amoebaforce]

Cat/Mouse

Part 3 of 4 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 4)

After a string of bold thefts rocks the Edenite art scene, veteran hunter Nadine picks up the bounty of a lifetime. Fifty thousand credits, just to capture the elusive thief and bring her in alive. It should be an easy job... but one look at her mark tells Nadine she might have bitten off more than she can chew. On a space station full of secret dealings, dirty money, and luxurious lies, it seems even the simplest contracts are prone to complication. tags: minor violence, mentions of death

Stepping past the security guards that flanked the auction house doors, a frowning Nadine tugged on her shirt collar for what felt like the hundredth time. Despite the beads of sweat pooling uncomfortably at the base of her spine, heat was not the issue. It wasn’t even her clothes, really. Sure, the sharply pressed, snugly cut silk-blend suit was a far cry from her normal leather jacket and jeans. But it fit well, boasted enough pockets to hide all her necessities, and, according to Xerxes, cost enough to assimilate her with all the rich people milling about. 

No, tonight Nadine had nothing to blame but her nerves. After a week of planning, colluding, and gearing, the wait was finally over. It was time to perform. Nadine steeled herself, trying not to think of all the ways that her and Xerxes’ plot could go awry. Reminding herself of all the contingencies, back-up plans, and emergency exit protocols. Her frown deepened. 

Then, as if on cue, the tiny communicator nestled in Nadine’s ear crackled to life. 

“Don’t look so constipated,” Xerxes scolded, voice tinny and thin through the line. “You’re supposed to be a dapper art collector, not a scowling brute.”

Nadine fought the urge to roll her eyes. Her boss broke through the auction house’s firewalls almost an hour ago, commandeering the cameras so he could be her eyes for the evening — and already he was abusing the privilege. A snarky reply sizzled on Nadine’s tongue, but she knew it was worse than pointless. The earpiece only worked one way. That was certainly by design; Xerxes simply loved a captive audience.

A quick upward glance showed Nadine his vantage points. One tiny surveillance camera over the door she’d entered, and a pair of larger models at the top of the lobby’s central staircase, angled for a sweeping view of the red-carpeted floor and white marble columns. With that set-up, Xerxes could scan the faces of every single guest the moment they arrived.

And boy, were the guests arriving. There must have been a hundred people in the lobby alone, hailing from a half-dozen different planets. All were dressed to the nines, covered in silks and velvets and furs, dripping finery from every place it could drip. In the last five steps, Nadine had passed a cluster of laughing Federation delegates, three different CEOs, and a pair of Edenite celebrities — not to mention the myriad socialites, collectors, and art dealers hanging around, too. And any one of them might be in cahoots with the thieves.

The bounty hunter wove her way through the crowds, dodging hors d’oeuvres-toting waiters in black tuxedos, until she reached the foot of the staircase.

“Go up, then hang a left,” Xerxes instructed. “Take the third door on the right.”

Nadine took her time climbing the steps. Rushing would only draw attention to herself, and besides, a little piece of her wanted to savor the moment. Despite all the films and stories insisting otherwise, her line of work was rarely glamorous. Most of Nadine’s time was spent reading files, researching marks, renewing certifications — and waiting. So much waiting. Waiting for things to happen, people to arrive, crimes to be committed, businesses to close or open…

Nadine couldn’t possibly tally the hours.

So when presented with a moment like this, Nadine always languished in them. She let her eyes sweep over every head, admiring each decadent outfit and glittering accessory. Snippets of conversations lapped over her like waves:

“–had quite an impressive return, sir.”

“My assistant will send a note to your assistant, ambassador–”

“–and you simply must holiday on Caxal! The beaches are lovely this season.”

“Three million starting bid? That’s all?”

Nadine paused on the landing, a familiar ache gathering in the pit of her stomach. Her knuckles turned white around the railing. 

For one fleeting season of Nadine’s life, she had labored under the delusion that she could fit in with people like this. That she might wear their opulent dresses and speak their money-rich jargon, comparing achievements and accolades in their lavish places. That she could have a beautiful, fabulous life, just like them. But that season ended a long time ago, and Nadine had a job to do.

With the fluid grace of a jaguar, a passing waiter slid to a stop behind her.

“Crudité, ma’am?” he offered, extending his tray.

The bounty hunter shook her head. She could hardly even look at him.

“No, thank you,” Nadine replied softly.

The waiter nodded and breezed away. With a stuttering sigh, Nadine jammed her hands in her pockets and carried on toward her destination. Third door on the right. When she got there, she found a partition that was double her height, three times her width, and meticulously carved from one solid length of wood. Exquisite. Expensive. The door was open, swung wide on its brass hinges to invite prospective buyers inside. Nadine’s earpiece crackled again.

“Damn,” Xerxes muttered. “Looks like the early birds are here for their worms.”

Nadine frowned, spotting the same problem as she strode into the auction hall. Though there were still twenty minutes until the first item hit the podium, a handful of bidders had already taken their seats. Mostly older folk, she noticed, or otherwise serious-looking characters whose fidgeting was wearing anticipatory grooves into their paddle handles. The atmosphere in here was tenser than the air of carefree schmoozing permeating the lobby. These people were here to win — and really, Nadine couldn’t blame them. After seeing some of the pieces up for auction tonight, she wished she had a few million credits to throw around, too.

“You’ll have to distract these snobs if you want to get into the passageway,” Xerxes said, as if Nadine hadn’t figured that out herself.

But how? Any help Xerxes could provide would definitely draw too much attention. Anything too drastic risked spooking the target back into the shadows, but something too ordinary wouldn’t give Nadine enough time to enter the back hallways.

Be logical, Nadine, the bounty hunter chided herself. Stack the deck in your favor.

She rubbed her fingers together, callouses scraping against the soft lining of her pockets, and set off sauntering up the middle aisle. Her unscuffed rubber soles snapped brightly on the marble flooring, dragging a few sets of eyes up from their auction catalogs as she passed. Only one pair lingered. They belonged to another Terran female, tall and lithe, with an ice-blonde bob that shimmered along her jaw as Nadine caught her attention.

Her vibrant green irises traced Nadine from head to toe, burning hot with intrigue, but the shiver her gaze incited was decidedly cold. Normally, Nadine would unequivocally appreciate the interest of a beautiful female, but right now, being ogled was entirely against her needs. The hunter paused at the front row, pretending to survey the empty seats as she racked her brain for ideas.

But before any ideas revealed themselves, the luxurious female was rising from her seat, expression growing more and more hawkish by the microsecond. Nadine swore under her breath. How the hell was she supposed to access a hidden door under these conditions? Her admirer slinked into the aisle, hips swaying through her column gown. Nadine’s eyes darted about the room. She was swiftly running out of ways to avoid a conversation — until, by the grace of some unknowable entity, a tiny black shape came skittering in through the door.

It was… a Terran dog. A poodle. Someone’s treasured pet, miniscule in size, fur shaved into patterns and bedecked with pink bows, and it was barking like a rabid beast. The creature sprinted down the aisle, dragging along a sparkly leash with no owner attached. Every head in the room snapped toward the racket — including the beautiful female’s. 

She and several others let out cries of surprise. From the hallway echoed a shrill scream. The dog barrelled blissfully on, right down the center of the aisle, like the galaxy’s most annoying heat-seeking missile.  

Nadine’s admirer was the first to move. She made to dodge; so did the poodle. And to Nadine’s benefit, and no one else’s, the two opponents dodged in the same direction.

The collision was exquisite. The dog wove half-way through the female’s ankles, knocking her slim frame immediately off balance. As she careened toward the floor, her stiletto heel came crashing down upon the poor little poodle’s perfectly manicured paw. The creature screeched. The female let out a foul expletive, and with a sickening thud, each of their bodies hit the hard marble ground.

The room exploded into noise. Every onlooker moved at once; chair legs squeaked as people rushed to help the poor unfortunate female, or the poor unfortunate dog. Nadine clapped her hand over her mouth, a laugh trapped in her trachea. When she forcibly tore her eyes from the chaos, her legs were already carrying her backward. The end of a laugh sparked through her earpiece.

“Holy shit,” Xerxes howled. “You’re the luckiest bastard in the quadrant.”

Nadine couldn’t help but agree. 

With no time to spare, she booked it to the left-hand side of the podium, where a rich tapestry covered the length of the wall. The hunter ducked behind the fabric sheath and found precisely what she needed: a thick metal door. A numbered keypad was perched above its handle.

“Two-seven-three-six-nine-four-one-nine,” Xerxes recited.

The numbers flashed green as the combination was accepted. A knot unwound itself in Nadine’s gut, and she pushed her way through with a sigh of relief. The door closed behind her, silencing all the chaos.

“There are fewer cameras down here,” her boss said. “Only at the main junctions. I’ll watch your back as best I can, but keep a low profile. Head to the right, then go down the first set of stairs.”

Nadine took a breath and obeyed. Every second she wasted was a second Ulu’zah gained. She had to get to the basement, to the vault, where all of tonight’s pieces were waiting. They’d been in there for four weeks straight — save for a few days ago, when they enjoyed an eighteen-hour stint of final appraisals and buyer previews. A luxurious span of time. Any two-bit thief might think to swap the fake in then, rather than opt for tonight’s shorter, riskier window.

But Ulu’zah was no two-bit thief. She knew better than to strike when her target was expecting to be robbed. Yes, the piece she wanted had been out in the open on preview night, but there were twice as many security personnel and staffers to dodge. If Ulu’zah posed as a buyer, she’d be expected to ask questions and shmooze the brokers, which might give someone a reason to remember her face. Plus, the auction house never moved things back to the vault until every guest was gone, so slipping away from such a controlled crowd would be nigh impossible. 

Yes, pulling the job tonight was the right move. And it made Nadine’s job easier, too. She’d have to thank the thief later.

Distant footsteps and muffled laughter sent Nadine diving for the nearest doorway. As she tucked herself out of sight, Xerxes spoke softly in her ear.

“Two security guards,” he reported. “They’re crossing at the next junction up. Be still until they pass.”

Obediently, Nadine waited for the sounds to fade before slipping back out. She kept her head clear the rest of the way, listening for any more patrols, but she didn’t hear so much as a peep before she reached the basement.

“Just as we suspected,” Xerxes chimed as she neared the goal. “Both vault cameras just had their feeds spoofed. The virus has been deployed.”

Nadine blew a slow, silent breath from her nose, reaching out for the handle. The plan ran through her head all over again. When she stepped through this door, Xerxes would lock it behind her. Deactivating the hyper-targeted virus would give away his presence in the system, so he wouldn’t see anything from here on out. No matter what happened in the vault, Nadine would have to handle it on her own.

Just like old times, she thought.

The door swung open at the push of a finger, gliding silently on its hinges. She made to take a step, but a memory danced through her head: a dark alley; a spray of lilac and gold. Nadine stooped down and untied her shoes. Tucking the polished leather derbies under her arm, she slinked through the doorway in her socks, slow and quiet.

The vault beyond was cavernous. Fifty feet wide with a forty-foot ceiling, and occupied almost completely by the biggest safe she’d ever seen. Nadine had studied the manufacturer’s blueprints — chromium alloy walls over eighteen inches thick, two computerized combination locks, a spinning door so large it took two people to turn the handle, linings that protected against fire and water and bullets — and still the real thing was larger than she expected. It could’ve been a bomb shelter, if it weren’t stuffed full of priceless art. 

But Nadine wasn’t really looking at the safe. All she could see was the tiny female standing beside it, her purple face peeking out of a blue coverall as she tinkered with a strange cube-shaped machine. The device had a set of buttons and switches on one side, while branching cyan grooves covered the other five. Nadine felt her heart seize in her chest, then kick back up into a thunderous rhythm.

There she is, her mind screamed. Just a few strides away. You could grab her, you could stop this. Right here, right now.

But she wouldn’t. Not yet.

The door sealed itself with a gentle click. As if shaken from a trance, Ulu’zah started and  whirled her head toward the noise. As her eyes met Nadine’s, the thief’s face flushed violet. The tendrils framing her cheeks shivered.

“You,” she hissed.

Ulu’zah sidled backward a half-step, but there was no fear in her voice. Only urgency, and a strange hint of anxiety that Nadine knew was meant for another. The thief’s gaze flickered between the box in her hands and the hunter blocking her exit.

“Me,” Nadine agreed. She could practically see the questions and insults running through the Diralith’s mind. The hunter lifted her open palms. “Before you start punchin’ — just hear me out, would ya?”

Ulu’zah stole a glance at the locked door, then scowled at Nadine as if to say, What choice do I have? She checked her watch.

“I need to be out of here in three hundred seconds.”

“Hey, don’t let me stop you.”

A baneful pause. Ulu’zah let out a sigh and turned back to her machine. “Fine. Talk.”

Nadine’s heart skipped a handful of beats. If she kept up this lucky streak, she might just buy a lottery ticket on the way back to her hotel. She skirted a little nearer to Ulu’zah, careful not to come on too strong.

“You don’t have to do this, Ulu’zah,” Nadine started. The Diralith rolled her eyes.

“Oh, come on — we’ve been over this.”

“There are other ways to settle a debt.”

“You don’t think I tried a few before I settled on stealing?” she countered. 

But Nadine expected that. “Actually, I know you did.”

Ulu’zah glared over her shoulder.

“Like I said before, Terran,” she spat, “you might’ve read some stupid file, but you don’t know shit about me.”

With that, Ulu’zah pressed a button on her little machine and slapped it to the side of the safe. It stuck there as if magnetized, grooves glowing with bright blue light. Nadine watched in subtle shock as the cube split into quadrants with an electric zap. As the corners expanded away from one another, the section of wall it encompassed began to fizz and distort, and Nadine realized precisely what this was.

A portable space-time distorter. Manufactured by the W’althiri and illegal to possess on every Federation planet, it worked like hypertuned teleporters, converting a carefully calibrated amount of matter into base atoms and beaming them elsewhere to carve passage through walls of nearly any thickness. Distorters were unobtrusive enough to bypass most security alarms and triggers, making them the favored toy of traffickers and private armies galaxy-wide. This was the first one Nadine had ever seen in person.

When the quadrants reached their maximum spread, the energy stretched between them sparked and sizzled, and suddenly Nadine was staring at a yawning gap in the metal. She whistled to herself.

“Yer boss really brought out the big guns, huh?”

“Shut up,” Ulu’zah replied, and walked right through the wall.

Nadine sighed. “Okay, ouch. I’m here to help, y’know.”

“Oh? And how do you plan to do that?”

Nadine sucked her teeth and hurried after the thief, but Ulu’zah was taking her time — hard out be damned. Nadine didn’t blame her. There was a whole museum’s worth of art in here: paintings, statues, textiles, mosaics, jewelry, manuscripts, triptychs… But tonight, they were only here to see one little piece.

“Well, there’s an easy way and a hard way,” Nadine finally answered. “Easy way goes like this: you surrender to the Feds, accept a plea deal in exchange for intel on your posse, they arrest his ass, and I come visit you in prison for the next five to ten.”

Ulu’zah barked out a laugh as she made her way deeper. “You’re making a lot of assumptions there, hunter. The Feds won’t let me off that easy — and they definitely won’t catch Rock.”

“Right. Rock. I did some diggin’ on him, and wouldn’t you know it, the Fed’s have got a case against him goin’ back years. And not just for theft, Ulu. For fraud, embezzling, kidnapping, trafficking, assault, murder. Did he ever tell ya that, Ulu? That he shot a man on Eden II?”

The thief bristled and stopped, and for a moment Nadine thought her words might have gotten through. But then, she glanced at the dais beside them, and that thought was forgotten. 

Sitting below a cloche of glass was Ulu’zah’s prize: a cracked clay pitcher with an angular spout, decorated with faded white fish swimming atop a sea of amber and taupe stripes. The females blew out identical breaths, their annoyances fading to background noise.

“There it is,” Ulu’zah whispered.

“It’s beautiful,” Nadine said. “The auctioneers claim it’s Mycenaean, but you and I know it’s really Early Minoan, eh?”

The Diralith shot her a baffled look, then started rooting around inside her waist-pack. “I know that, sure — but how do you?”

She produced a little parcel and unwrapped the paper to reveal another pitcher, identical in every way to the first. A little twang of wonder struck Nadine in the gut; Ulu’zah’s work was impressive through a screen, but in person it was downright astounding. Every detail was exactingly crafted, down to the chip in the rim and the wear patterns in the varnish. It wasn’t just a fake. It was a masterpiece. 

Ulu’zah reached for the cloche, but Nadine’s fingers were already on the handle, lifting the glass dome from its resting place. The hunter smiled. 

“You ain’t the only gal who’s been to art school.”

If Ulu’zah had balked any harder, she might’ve dropped her fake. “What?”

“Yup. Matter of fact, me and you got the same alma mater. Well, technically I never graduated, but you know what I mean.”

The Diralith swapped the pitchers with gentle fingers, shaking her head in disbelief, then wrapped the real one up and tucked it in her bag.

“You’re telling me you went to ECAD?” she jabbed.

Nadine was almost offended as she lowered the cloche. 

“What, you think I came out the womb with my bounty license? I’ve been doin’ this a long time, darlin’, but not that long.”

The females turned on their heels and rushed back to the distorted wall. Nadine’s earpiece squeaked into her skull.

“Running out of time,” Xerxes hissed. Nadine rolled her eyes and ignored him. As if she wasn’t checking Ulu’zah’s watch over her shoulder.

Ninety-eight seconds left.

“So,” Nadine tried again, “any thoughts on the easy way?”

Ulu’zah shot her a look. “Yeah, here’s a thought — you can either piss off and let me finish my job, or you can cuff me and leave me here for the guards.”

The hunter sighed.

“I was hopin’ you’d make a different choice.”

They stepped back out of the safe, and Ulu’zah deactivated the distorter. With a quiet whirr, its corners retracted and the wall was teleported back into place, seamless as the hunk of clay she’d placed inside.

“Well, Nadine,” the thief snipped, rolling the device in her open palm, “hoping only gets you so far.”

“You’re right, Ulu. That’s why us gals gotta have plans. Like this one.”

And in a flash, Nadine snatched the distorter from Ulu’zah’s hand and smashed it right onto the cold metal floor. The thief let out a strangled wail, lunging to stop her, but Nadine was already crunching the thing under her boot, strewing chunks of circuitry across the room. Ulu’zah’s eyes glazed with panic.

“No!” she cried. “Why the hell– You have no idea what you just did to me!”

Nadine dodged a wild slap, then caught Ulu’zah by the forearm and held her still. “I think I got a pretty good idea.”

Behind her, a sudden rush of energy proved her theory correct. Nadine turned, and there, standing amid the still-fading light particles of an unregistered teleporter, was none other than Web. Ulu’zah’s sleazeball Terran middle manager. He smiled under his sunglasses. 

“Ah, look who we have here,” he hummed, decidedly less frantic than his subordinate. He even had his hands in his pockets. 

How convenient. 

“Hey, Web,” Nadine said coolly. “How’s your thumb?”

He grinned and parted his lips around some snappy reply, but alas, Nadine didn’t let him finish. Once more her body acted mindlessly, sliding into martial form as she closed the distance between them. Web scrambled to defend himself, to pull his arms from the confines of his jacket — but Nadine had been thinking of this moment for seven long, long days, and no rushed defense could spare him her ire. She twisted, coiled, released.

And his jaw crunched spectacularly against her knuckles. Web spun on his heels and slumped heavily onto the floor, clutching his bleeding mouth. Ulu’zah gasped behind her hands. Nadine shook out her wrist and gritted her teeth at the way it smarted.

“Great skies,” Ulu’zah murmured.

“Right then,” Nadine said. “Time to do things the hard way.”

[all-the-prompts]

Thriller/romance/science fiction prompt:

A detective gets involved in a deadly game of wits with a time traveling serial killer who happens to be obsessed with them.

[battlegroundofdreams]

2

And now they meet....

“I take it you’re Melinoe?” Morpheus sounded as thrilled as he felt when he walked into the training room the next morning to meet the woman who would be his partner, or at least until he could find a way to get rid of her.  At least she wasn’t bad to look at, and from her outfit she was there to do serious work.  At least they hadn’t put him with one of the females that was more concerned about her appearances than whether they got the job done; that was at least a bonus.  However as his eyes swept her body from her long coffee colored hair that was pulled up in a plait, across her curves, and down to her long legs that were toned from workouts and the rigors of their job, Morpheus had to admit that at least the scenery would be enjoyable while he was forced into this position.

“I am.  That would make you Morpheus.  I’d say it’s a pleasure, but your reputation does proceed you.  I’ve already been warned, you’re not going to scare me off or get rid of me.  We’re stuck together, so let’s see if the other part of your reputation is correct.  Hand to hand first, then we can do weapons. Let’s see what you got.” Melinoe gave him a wink as she smirked over at him.  She was prepared for anything he could throw at her.  Overnight she’d done some research on the assassin she’d now be paired up with, and had gotten a good feel for who he was and how he operated.  To say he was generally disliked would be a significant understatement, even amongst their superiors.  While he was adept and lethal, he had an attitude that few could stomach.  The number of reprimands in his file was impressive for him still to be in the service.  He’d impressed someone along the line, or maybe slept his way into keeping his job.  She couldn’t deny that he was nice to look at - tall, dark hair, and grey eyes that seemed to be scrutinizing her, chiseled jaw and cheekbones, and he didn’t have to wear tight clothes to see his musculature.  Yes, sleeping his way to keeping on the force was a possibility. 

“I guess I won’t have to wonder where I stand with you.”  Morpheus was actually impressed, not even one single attempt to flirt, and she was direct.  He had to respect that, even if it slightly amused him.  The tall female was attractive, which normally meant flirtatious.  Now he had a good idea why he’d been paired up with her, maybe he wouldn’t hate this quite as much as he’d anticipated.  The thought made him smirk as he considered exactly how to put her to the test.

“Not at all, killer.  And don’t think that the nice cheekbones, strong jaw, and ability to smolder are going to get you anywhere.  I’ve been told I’m immune.”  She gave him a tight smile and another wink as she pulled on her training gloves: tight leather fingerless gloves that had padding in the palm.  “Don’t take it easy on me, and I will do the same.  I want to see what you’ve got, and how much of your weight I’m going to have to carry.”  Now it was she that was smirking as she kept from looking at him, something she was sure he was not used to.

“Excuse me?  MY weight that YOU are going to have to carry?”  Now Morpheus had to scoff as his eyes rolled.  There was no way she’d be carrying any of his weight.  More than likely, he’d be carrying her weight, and although she was far from fat, he imagined he’d be tired from carrying her weight on every mission.  There were few in the service that could keep up with him, let alone fight to his level.  He dropped his equipment bag to the side of the area that they were going to be using and began to pull on his own gloves, keeping an eye on her as well.

“I believe that IS what I said.” Melinoe was glad she didn’t have to hide her smile at the indignation in his voice as she dug more of her gear out of her own bag.  “I won’t play nice to save your ego.  I’ve heard it gets enough puffing up off the job, I don’t plan to do any more of it while we’re on the job.” She tossed a few things to the side and then turned to stand and face him.

Before Melinoe could come to full standing, Morpheus had her by the bicep and shoved up against the wall, with his body against hers, keeping her there.  Those grey eyes of his seemed to have gone ice cold and his expression was dead serious; she had to hand it to him that he was intimidating when angered.  “I don’t know just who you think you are, but commenting on what I do off the job is none of your business.  And my ego doesn’t need to be puffed up any, by you or anyone else, my performance speaks for itself.” She’d hit a sore spot without even meaning to, but he wasn’t going to let it slide either way.  This is why he preferred working alone. No asshole coworker to annoy you, or get you injured or killed.

Her green eyes met his evenly and with a hint of amusement in them.  “Is that so?  And yet, you lose your cool so easily over the statement.  Hiding something, Morpheus?”  Her eyes dropped to where their bodies met and then back to his eyes.  “Or compensating for something?  I don’t care, but don’t you ever grab me that way again if you want all your body parts to remain in their original and current positions.”  Melinoe’s chin lifted defiantly and her eyes narrowed.  “Now back the fuck up and let me go, or I will make you.”  The coldness in her voice made ice feel like the tropics and the set of her jaw made it clear she was not in a joking mood.  He too had taken a step too far.

“Fine!” He took one step back, releasing her as his fingers splayed wide on both hands, his head tipping to the side, and his own eyes narrowing.  “Don’t start a war you can’t finish.  As you said, Melinoe, we are stuck together.  We can fight each other and the nightmares, or we can fight together.  You choose.”  He was fighting grinding his teeth as he stood there staring at her.

“You made the first move, Morpheus.  I’d say it’s up to you if there’s a truce, or hostilities continue.  I’m not going to back down if challenged, and I won’t pull punches.  Don’t think you can steam roll over me because others cower at you.  They picked me for a reason.”  The corners of her mouth ticked up, he’d have to call the truce between them and apologize. She wasn’t going to be made to apologize or back down, that wasn’t her style.

It was at that moment a messenger came into the room.  “Ema!  Ema!  I have a message from Krios.  It is in regards to your last mission.  Something’s happened.  He is going to need to speak with you after training!.”  The messenger held out a scroll to her, bowing deeply as she reached for it.  “I’m sorry to interrupt, ma’am.  I was told it could not wait and was of the utmost importance.”  Morpheus’s eyes narrowed as he watched, something was off about the interaction, and what had he called her?

“Right!  Well, then it is best that you didn’t.”  Her tone was clipped, but Melinoe was not chastising or upset sounding.  It was clear on her face that something about what the messenger had just said was troubling, and she was not wanting to reveal more in front of him.  “Thank you for delivering it to me.  Morpheus and I will be in to see the Prime as soon as training is completed.  Let him know that it was delivered.  Thank You.”  She inclined her head and waited until the messenger had exited the room before breaking the seal on the scroll.  As she read, a feeling of dread filled her.  It seemed that she and Morpheus were not going to get much of a period to get acquainted. 

Morpheus waited for Melinoe to share what was within the scroll.  As he did, he went back over what the messenger had said.  He’d called her “Ema”.  The name sounded familiar, but he was having a problem placing it.  There was also that the messenger had shown a reverence to her that he didn’t even receive.  And why would Krios contact her directly, the Prime rarely spoke to agents.  Who had he been paired up with?  What had the Dream Gods done?

“It looks like we aren’t going to get much time to get to know one another before we are going to have to undertake our first mission.  A pair of nightmares that have been preying on dreamers and brutally killing them from within has resurfaced, or one of them has.  I killed the other one in my last mission. I had hoped both were dead, but apparently the one was just badly wounded and laying low for the last couple weeks.”  Frustration bled through her voice as she filled Morpheus in.  Having to admit to not defeating the one nightmare was not something she liked doing, but she wanted it all out on the table. “Apparently the remaining one struck someone just taking a nap, not even someone asleep for the night.  So, since it was my last solo mission, it has become our first joint mission.”

Now would be the test if he could control his own mouth, or if they would forever be at odds with one another.  While he didn’t want a partner, fighting with her while trying to defeat the nightmares wouldn’t benefit either of them.  Best thing was to call a truce and work together.  “A truce it is then, if you’re agreeable to forgiving my earlier slight.”  Once she had inclined her head to indicate that she did, he continued, “I guess we should get down to training then if we’re going to be thrown into it that fast.  Learning one another’s fighting style is going to help when we’re taking on an adversary, especially one that is out for revenge for you killing its partner.”

[magicaldragons]

when a character is in a serious/dangerous situation, and the scene cuts to another character, in a situation of equal intensity.

and both are interwoven with a powerful soundtrack????

that's my shit.

[phocids]

love my mom dearly. however she has shit taste in books

[conventionalweaponsofficial]

[literaryspinster]

Yes I've read Battle Royale, yes I think it's better than the Hunger Games, no I don't think that means that The Hunger Games has no reason to exist.

[amoebaforce]

SURPRISE!

Cat/Mouse is now on Wattpad!

After a string of bold thefts rocks the Edenite art scene, veteran hunter Nadine picks up the bounty of a lifetime. Fifty thousand credits, just to capture the elusive thief and bring her in alive. It should be an easy job... but one look at her mark tells Nadine she might have bitten off more than she can chew. On a space station full of secret dealings, dirty money, and luxurious lies, it seems even the simplest contracts are prone to complication.

**** Sapphic yearning meets futuristic noir as a seasoned bounty hunter tracks down the quadrant's most mysterious art thief. Updated every week until the story is over! TWs for violence, blood, alcohol consumption, mentions of death, and implied abuse. SFW but rated mature for language and themes.

Read it here!

[wanderrealms]

Listening to writers across (so very many) genres can result in mental whiplash, but it's also fun.

[fruitbatfanclub]

welp…..did y’all miss me? i’ve read 7 books in the last 3 weeks. my social media usage has been practically nonexistent, and that’s honestly been such a breath of fresh air. but i still exist….until someone recommends me something good to read.👀