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odditycircus-2002 · 1 year

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Huddle Up

Y'all remember my post about the Black Sun Job where Diyana and Hellboy were stranded in an arctic wasteland for a little over 6 weeks after Hellboy blew up a Nazi's base? Well, this drabble is what came to mind for a bit of what happened between them during those weeks on the ice.

Hellboy huffs to himself in frustrations as he dug at the snow and sleet hoping to find something from the remains of the hangar to use as fuel for the fire, he and his fellow agent only have so much daylight left after all.

"Just more useless crap."

The large red man grumbles, tossing aside scrap metal in a small pile of similar debris. He then looks up to find his fellow agent, Diyana Swann, a little off in the distance; a black setter dog is currently digging deep into the snow. Hellboy watches as Swann briefly disappears into the hole she dug before reappearing, completely covered in snow contrasting brightly against her dark fur but otherwise without any tinder. The dog that is Swann frowns before speaking.

"I have nothin' here either."

Swann lets out a huff before shaking her entire body, briefly appearing as a dark blur that then shifts into a more humanoid form that Hellboy is more familiar with. Despite having the general shape of a human of African descent with black wavy hair, it's not hard to miss the dark rabbit ears sprouting from the sides of her head or the long tail extending from her spine that ends with a tuft of blue-gray fur. Upon closer inspection past the winter boots she's currently wearing, anyone could see that Swann's legs don't exactly resemble a human's either. Sure, they seem normal above the knees, but going down from there, they're more digitigrade in appearance, like that of a four-legged animal.

"You just had to blow up the entire hangar, eh? Deadly job ye did there leaving any kindlin'."

"I'll keep that in mind next time Nazis try to use me as their guinea pig."

Hellboy sarcastically quips back. Swann sighs as she places her hands on her hips before returning to where their impromptu firepit is, which is basically a small hole in the ground with a pitiful amount of wood in the middle, they dug out earlier. Hellboy is not too far behind as he joins his coworker, sitting opposite her.

"I gotta ask though, where were you during that? You seemed to have vanished into thin air when the grunts started pulling out the ray guns."

Hellboy narrows his golden eyes in suspicion at the pooka across from him. Swann waves a gloved hand dismissively with a nonchalant grin.

"I knew you had it covered, 'sides you're able to take those shots than I could anyway."

"Doesn't mean they didn't hurt like a S.O.B."

Hellboy subconsciously runs a hand over the burgundy-colored bruise on his right shoulder where the ray guns first hit him. Diyana grits her teeth as she lets out a hiss at the various bruises and injuries that decorated his hulking form.

"I can imagine, yer gonna be so sore in mornin'. But hey, at least I got ya out just in time before ya could blow up with the rest of those morans."

"That reminds me, you haven't exactly answered my question. What were you doing while I was having my ear talked off by wannabe Hitler?"

Swann maintains the same unbothered expression in contrast to her colleague's persistent gaze. She's the first to break their eye contact as she gives a shrug and a hum.

"Eh, no use keepin' it hidden, 'sides we'll need the kindling."

Swann then reaches into her stylish coat to pull out a small stack of papers. They crinkle in her hand as she shifts through them with an analytical eye; some she throws in the fire pit, and others she tucks back into her coat. Hellboy isn't sure he would like the faerie woman's answer when spotting a familiar symbol on the corner of one of the documents and recognizing the writing to be in German. He isn't going to stop Swann from using her lighter to set the papers ablaze, though. The faerie snaps her lighter close when the kindling does its work for the few wood pieces they can find.

"I don't need to be a psychic to know yer askin' why I have Nazi papers."

"Yeah."

Hellboy confirms, observing as Swann warms her gloved hands over the small fire. She then moves her hands to grab a pack of cigarettes and her cigarette holder from her coat pocket to use the small fire to light one. Hellboy watches Swann take an inhale before exhaling a smoky yellow hand grabbing at the air.

"I'm simply fulfilling the research aspect of your organization as upon my agreement with the Professor and the board members. While you're their smash, I am more of the grab."

The smokey apparition then disperses before Swann takes another inhale to exhale a blue and yellow stream of smoke that resembles the planet, Earth, along with a few of the aircraft that dragged them to their current location.

"If it's any comfort, there wasn't really a lot of juicy intel as much as much as thick crackpot plans for world domination."

Hellboy follows where Swann is gesturing to the ashy remains of the documents she burned, his lips are pressed together in a thin line as he stares intently at the fire. On one hand, he knows that it's always these Nazis' plans to take over the world, essentially. On the other, he's not a fool to accept what Swann told him to be the whole truth. She's come through in a pinch within the hangar and now with the fire, though.

After a few moments of silence, Hellboy looks from the fire to his fellow agent, her cigarette half its original size.

"Did you at least gather any idea on how to get out of this winter wonderland?"

Swann shakes her head to which Hellboy gives a tired sigh.

"You blew everythin' up, handsome. Any vehicles ain't nothin' but scrap now."

"Well, why not teleport us out like you did with me?"

"I'd have to know what continent we're on first to figure out where to go. Though, all I see is ice and snow to the horizon."

Swann then makes a sweeping gesture to the frozen land around them. A icy breeze then blows by which cause the agents' small fire to dance rapidly in the wind, looking almost ready to go out. Both Hellboy and Swann desperately start to shield the flame with their body, the large man begging under his breath for the flame not to die. Once it stabilizes again do both agents back away a bit from the fire.

"Any word on the radio?"

Swann inquires, once she's able to stop her teeth from chattering too much. Hellboy shakes his head before pulling out the blocky radio that was one half of a two-way radio, one of the only things they could find amongst the wreckage.

"Nothing, just static."

"Here, let me."

Swann holds out a hand to which Hellboy obliges. He watches as Swann takes out some small screwdrivers and a plier then starts to disassemble the radio.

"Can ya find a small thin and malleable piece of metal?"

She asks him while wiping the batteries with her coat. Hellboy, again, acquiesces to the phooka's request, finding and breaking off some scorched metal the size of a fist into rough strips the width of his pinky. If there's one thing Hellboy can trust Swann with, it's her way around machines. He watches his fellow agent use one of the metal strips to attach to the radio's antenna, using a rubber band and bobby pin she found in her pocket. Swann appears to pay special attention to a small scorched cube in the radio, then fiddles with the wires within it before returning it to the radio.

"Alright, the batteries seem to be in working order, with no sign of damage or corrosion. Added some length to the antenna to hopefully boost the signal 'fore takin' a gander at the repeater. It seems to suffer a bit of damage from the blast, but everythin' else looks good. Just wish I had my carpet bag on me."

"Only one way to find out."

Hellboy then takes the radio from Swann and switches it on.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Agent Hellboy and Agent Swann of the BPRD requesting rescue and pick up. We're stranded on what looks to be a tundra. There's snow and ice everywhere. Last known location, is Fletcher's Ice Island T-3 in the Arctic Ocean. Hurry, we don't have a lot of fuel for a fire."

Hellboy then releases his hand from the receiver before glancing back at Swann.

"Fingers crossed that your upgrades worked and somebody heard it, otherwise they're gonna find some strange snowmen by then."

Hellboy gives a dry chuckle while Di nods in agreement with her arms wrapped around her in a death grip.

A Few Days Later

As Hellboy feared, their fire situation worsened to the point that both he and Swann had to dig through their pockets for any flammable miscellaneous items. This includes Swann's carton she held her cigarettes in, her hat minus the hat pins on them, old receipts and memos, and even some of their hair or fur in Swann's case. The latter made their small camp stink as hell to the point it became hard for either of them to choose between getting away from the stench or getting closer to their only source of warmth. Well, perhaps the fire isn't their only warm source.

Hellboy looks up from their only line to the outside world to the woman across from him. On Swann's lap is loose wiring, screw, and more metal scrap as she works on disassembling and picking apart the repeater from the radio. Swann hopes that by making repairs to the repeater or even making a new one, could boost the signal of their radio. However, the faerie woman's progress is slow as is evident by her trembling hands causing her to drop a screw or cause her to start over what little progress she made. The sound of Swann's teeth chattering together is the only other sound to fill the silence between them besides the weak crackling of their fire and howling freezing winds. Hellboy couldn't stand it for much longer.

"C'mere."

The large man beckons Swann toward him with his giant stone hand. Swann tears her gaze away from her work her long ears tilted at an angle to express her confusion.

"W-w-what?"

"I'm not gonna repeat myself."

Hellboy then stands up to shuffle over Swann's side of the fire, securing the radio in his belt before sitting down behind the faerie woman and scooping her up into his lap, bridal style. He then wraps his muscular arms around Swann's shivering form, flinching slightly when brushing against her ice-cold cheeks. Said woman lets out a small squeak at the contact but instinctively clings to the larger red man once fully processing how he's pretty much a living furnace.

"Christ on a stick!"

Swann happily mutters to herself. She wraps her arms around Hellboy's barrel chest as best as she can.

"You're welcome."

Hellboy could've sworn he felt a rumbling sensation coming from her. It seems that Hellboy huddling close to his fellow agent did the trick, as after Swann took a few minutes to warm herself up by greedily taking in his body heat, she is able to complete making a new repeater. She then installs into the radio before handing it to Hellboy, who gives more or less the same message as last time. After taking his hand off the receiver. Sensing he's being watched, he looks down at Swann gazing up at him with hooded eyes and a sultry grin.

"I always knew you were hot, Handsome."

"Don't start. You're lucky I feel like being nice."

Swann gives a shrug before crooning,

"I'll still take what I can."

Hellboy lets out a groan but doesn't object when Swann intertwines her tail around his nor does she say anything when he rests his chin on top of her head right between her small horns. Although, Hellboy does note that Swann is soft and warm to have in his arms. For a while, they both sat in silence to simply bask in what little heat their fire gave and the warmth exchanged from their combined body heats. The silence is eventually broken by Hellboy, who doesn't bother moving from the top of Swann's head.

"You're lucky to have small horns. Must make everyday life easy for ya."

"Aye, how else do you think I'm able to put on my hats or lay my head down on a pillow without tearin' it to pieces?"

Hellboy lets out a huff in amusement, his warm breath brushes against the fae woman's long ears, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine and causing her to tighten her tail around the large red man's. The latter thinks nothing of it, chalking it up to the bitter cold. He raises a brow when hearing a sudden crunchy pop similar to whenever he cracks his neck or spine while stretching. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he can spot Swann's horns lengthening like trees growing 100 times faster. He moves his head from the top of Swann's head in time to catch her horns twisting and curling before settling to resemble a ram's. Swann twists in Hellboy's lap with an amused smile.

"What did I tell ya? Sure, they're grand an' everythin', but I'd prefer a bit less of a hassle. Ya like?"

She runs a hand down one of her horns as if brushing back a strand of hair while maintaining heavy eye contact with Hellboy. The latter gives a barely perceptible shrug.

"Horns aren't really my thing, but they're fitting on you."

Swann then places her hands over her cheeks before using one to fan herself in an overexaggerated fashion.

"Ah shucks, you make me blush, Handsome!

The fae woman then raises her hands to run them over her horns as if sweeping back her hair, causing them to shorten and shrink under her touch until they're back to their usual convenient size.

"Speaking of horns, where's yours exactly, Big Guy?"

Swann gestures with one hand to the smooth stumps on Hellboy's forehead. He glances up at them before lifting his normal left hand to feel the mostly smooth stumps.

"Don't got'em 'cause I didn't want them. I used to be insecure about them as a kid, but nowadays I file them down for about the same reasons as you."

Hellboy gives a shrug in response. Swann gives hum as she contemplates what her fellow agent just told her.

"I suppose that's best for ya,"

The faerie woman then starts giggling to herself, causing the giant red man to raise a brow in confusion.

"What's so funny, now?"

"I was just thinkin' of ya tryna put on a shirt only for two absolutely massive horns-"

Swann holds her hands about a foot from her forehead.

" -to rip a hole through them, leaving ya stuck mid-dressing."

Swann then bursts out into full laughter.

"Or-or-or ya tryna to go through one of the doors at HQ, but ya can't cause the horns are too wide to let ya through! So you're just left havin' to figure your way in, only to get stuck in the doorway!"

A wry grin makes its way on Hellboy's face before he's too left chuckling at the ridiculous imagery.

"Kinda reminds me of when Mac tried to bring in a whole tree branch inside, but he didn't figure that the branch was too wide until after he ran full force at the door frame."

A moment of silence passes between them before both burst out into laughter to the point Swann has to grab onto Hellboy's broad shoulder to keep from collapsing, which is harder than it sounds considering how his shoulders kept shaking from the force of his laughter. Hellboy raises his left arm to wipe at his eyes for any tears that leaked out, which gives Swann a good look at a faded bitemark. A bitemark that's a lighter shade of red than the rest of Hellboy and appears to be the result of a large creature by the looks of it.

"How'd ya get that scar? Looks like it got ya good."

Hellboy glances over at the bitemark on his forearm and flexes his left hand.

"Yeah, but I'd say the mutated mutt got it worse in the end. I can at least say I'm alive."

"Mutated mutt? Do ya mean what happened last year in Rosemead, California?"

Hellboy nods.

"Yup. Guessin', you read the papers about it?"

"Aye, kinda hard not to when your face and name were everywhere.

"I can't help it I got a mug that cameras just love."

The giant red man gives an amused grin at his joke. Swann reciprocates his expression with one of her own and lightly elbows him in the ribs.

"Don't get a big head about it, yours is already large as it is."

"Guilty as charged."

Hellboy shrugs without an ounce of guilt.

"I'd wager though you got your share of scars."

"More than you can believe."

Swann glances down at one of her arms before adjusting the gloves to smooth out a small wrinkle, her grin falling ever so slightly. Hellboy could sense the change in demeanor from the smaller woman, making him furrow his brow.

"What kind of scars are you talkin' about?"

He asks quieter and gentler than his voice was just a minute ago. Swann remains silent, making no indication that she even heard Hellboy. The latter chooses not to push the fae woman, but that doesn't stop him from noting how unusual this sort of heavy silence is for her compared to her normal chatter.

Eventually, the silence is broken when Swann opts to shrug off her coat, revealing the white blouse with long frilled sleeves underneath. She then turns around and stands between Hellboy's legs to drape the blue coat over his broad shoulders. The large red man raises a brow but doesn't stop the smaller woman from smoothing the way-too-small jacket over him.

"You sure you wanna be giving this to me? I don't believe it's my style and I don't really need it."

The corner of the fae woman's mouth twitches.

"It's the best I can do given yer own was cut into ribbons, plus I can't have my personal heater turning into an ice cube."

"Touching."

Crinkle

Both Hellboy and his fellow agent turn their heads, Swann's ears standing at attention, in the direction of a familiar sound of plastic clinking followed by a light thump, followed shortly by a loud clink. Looking over to Hellboy's left side, they find a small packet of airplane biscuits and two mini bottles labeled "bourbon". Both agents look at the unexpected sustenance and then at each other again with wide eyes. Swann then gives a shrug to the large man's silent question.

"Even I sometimes forget what I keep on me."

Some More Days Later

After some thorough searching and Hellboy shaking the coat turns out Swann had half of another airplane biscuit pack in her and Hellboy has a mint broken down into dust in one of his pockets. While it isn't much in normal circumstances, to both BPRD agents, they may as well have found a feast. They both nibble their share of a cinnamon and sugar biscuit, both sharing half of one of the scarce biscuits while engaged in conversation with Swann still sitting in Hellboy's lap.

"....Why Romania? I figured you'd wanna go somewhere warmer like Mexico, Africa, the Sahara desert, the Bahamas, or Florida after this."

"You'd be wrong, Red. For one thing, I still have fur, so what may be mild to ya, is fiercely the opposite. 'Sides, I know a couple of great restaurants there, including one that makes some of the bleedin' best paprika chicken ya ever tasted."

The fae woman then takes another small bite from her quarter of the airplane biscuit, closing her eyes to briefly imagine the paprika chicken she mentioned; she can almost taste the delicious dish on her tongue, not the stale sugar cinnamon of the biscuit. Hellboy opts to wash down his biscuit with a small sip of bourbon, which is barely an ember warming his chest.

"You'll have to take me to one of those restaurants sometime then."

Swann gives a coquettish grin as she playfully bats her eyes.

"Are ya askin' me out on a date, Red?"

Hellboy's brows shoot to his forehead.

"Uhhh, no? Not really."

The large red man reaches his left hand behind his neck, suddenly feeling warmer than he did a minute ago. Swann's grin softens into a small smile as she turns her head to look up at him.

"Date or not, I'd be happy to show ya."

Hellboy gives a soft grin of his own.

"Sounds like a plan. Though, honestly,"

Hellboy leans back against the wall of the pit they dug, craning his neck to stare up at the bright full moon in the sky.

"I'd like to spend some time home. I know the Professor, Margret, and Archie must be scouring the Earth right now to find where we're at. It'd be nice to see them all again, and I'm sure Mac is missing me as much as I miss him. What I wouldn't give right now to be back in my warm bed with him. "

The large red man glances back at the fae woman in his hold, certain he would find her batting her lashes at him before making an innuendo; however, this is not what he finds. Hellboy finds Swann looking over at the fire with a stolid expression on her face as if in deep concentration.

"Swann?"

At the sound of her last name, the fae woman turns to look at Hellboy with a smile that doesn't quite reach her forlorn eyes.

"Ya lucky to have so many folks waitin' for ya at home. At least, I got Romania and all of Europa to head to."

Swann then gives a bitter chuckle. Hellboy doesn't say anything, pressing his lips in a thin line, silently hoping for his fellow agent to elaborate. His patience pays off when Swann gives one final detail.

"It's the closest I'll ever get to going home."

"Why? Are you saying that you can't? Actually, why do you stick around HQ and not Ireland?"

The faerie woman doesn't say anything in response, leaving them both in heavy silence once more.

...

Even More Days Later

Swann didn't speak much after mentioning home, barely uttering a few words. Even then, only when necessary, such as asking Hellboy to hold a few components of the radio as she got to work trying to strengthen the signal again. He watches as she screws and unscrews each piece in repetition with no real progress other than, perhaps, a way to keep her hands busy. While Swann is occupied with the hand radio, Hellboy looks over their remaining food, which, while not a lot to begin with, is nothing more than crumbs. The large man gives a sigh as he looks at the sad crumbs and dust in his normal hand.

"Any luck with the radio, Swann? Cause food's here is just crumbs you'd feed a mouse."

"s-s-sickner for-r-r yaaa."

The Fae woman slurs thickly in reply, stuttering at the same time from what Hellboy figures to be from the cold. He quickly takes the coat draped on his shoulders to cover his partner, even rubbing her shoulders a bit to generate extra heat. Hellboy then presses the back of his hand against Swann's cheek, finding that he may as well be touching the snow around them. He throws a quick glance at the small fire that may as well belong to a candle. Hellboy clenches his jaw tightly as he then looks back at Swann, finding her hands to be moving at a snail's pace and her head bobbing, causing her wavy locks to fall forward.

Before she could fall forward as well, Hellboy uses his giant right hand to catch the fae woman and tilt her back and used the other to place the radio down. He attempts to will away the way his heart started clawing its way up his throat by talking to his fellow agent and putting her coat back on her.

"Hey, Swann? Why don't you take a break from workin' on the radio for a bit? We're gonna need more fuel."

"A-ayeee... an féidir leat an fhuinneog a dhúnadh, le do thoil?"

"I have no idea what ya just said, but I'm gonna need ya to stay awake. Just don't close your eyes, yeah?"

Swann only lets out an acknowledging hum which Hellboy figured is good enough. He then snaps his fingers in front of the woman's cat-like eyes, briefly getting her to keep open without struggle for a few seconds before she's back to struggling with their weight. Hellboy ends up cradling Swann's shivering form, so small compared to him, close to his chest. Hellboy shuffles around, trying to find any flammable debris that both of them may have missed. Occasionally he would jostle her in his arms when she seemed too still, sometimes engaging in nonsensical conversation with her, anything to keep the fae woman from falling asleep and dying.

"I missh the soft ground a-and the grass 'tween toes."

"Uh-huh, and what else?"

"mo dheartháireacha agus deirfiúracha amaideach,"

Di gives a small drunken laugh as she gives a thousand-yard stare without actually seeing anything.

"plainsss, fielllds, winds... Jesusss I misss the aaaale...."

"We can get some ale later, but we can't if you go to sleep."

"Mmmmhhhh... souuuunds goood."

"I hope you mean the ale."

Hellboy moves aside a piece of metal that's roughly his size with one arm, finding something charred in the snow. He crouches down next to the partially buried item and uses his free hand to start digging at the snow around it. His face brightens when he unearthed a mostly charred piece of wood that could've been part of a door.

"Ah ha! A bit burnt but it's still wood."

Swann can only give a breathy giggle.

"bleedin' kelpies... gotta hog waterrr..."

"Right."

The large red man sits in front of the fire, its flames larger than a minute ago, thanks to the charred wood he found. Once he's taken care of the fire, Hellboy turns his attention back to the smaller woman in his arms, the knot in his stomach somewhat lessening when finding her no longer shivering as badly. To be safe, though, he takes one of Swann's arms tightly wrapped around herself to check her pulse.

"Mmmhhh... weak, but at least it's still there."

"A-are we in the w-wetlandsss?"

Swann mumbles out as she starts to kick her feet against the snow with barely enough force to flick a snowflake away. Hellboy is quick to hoist the faerie woman up more into his hold.

"No, we're in the ice lands."

"Ohhh booo..."

"Yeah, I know."

For the rest of the day, Hellboy continues to make nonsensical small talk with the barely conscious fae woman, which admittedly. During one conversation, he stopped to give Swann a few crumbs and the few drops of bourbon left in his small bottle.

"Cén fáth a bhfuil an fuisce imithe i gcónaí?"

Swann slurrs as she tiredly squints at the tiny bottle in Hellboy's hand.

"Sure is, Swann."

The fae woman then goes silent for a moment longer than he would've liked. However, before Hellboy could open his mouth to say anything, Swann speaks again at a volume her fellow agent had to lean down to hear.

"W-why can't I gooo home?"

"What's stopping you?"

"Them..."

"Who's them?"

The demon-like man couldn't make out the rest of what his fellow agent said, but they were swears and curses, given how she practically growled them out. Feeling it'd be better to get straight answers when Swann is more lucid, Hellboy changes the subject.

"You wanna hear about the time I crashed a vehicle when I was a kid?"

"A-aye...hehe..."

"Figured you would. To start, I love reading Lobster Johnson comics and I had something of an overactive imagination..."

Hellboy spends the rest of the night recalling his childhood and the places his job has taken him around the globe, having found that telling anecdotes from his life stories helped keep Swann awake. For the most part, he still had to shake her around to keep from dozing off. Sometimes, Swann would interject with some murmured commentary, which is how Hellboy learns that she's apparently banned from places in Sweden. Something about framing a giant talking squirrel for crimes she committed, but the large red man decided that's a question for another time.

...

He must've dozed off at some point since Hellboy opens his eyes to blink blearily at the rising sun. He then looks to the fire pit, where only ashes, embers, and smoke remains. Hellboy gives a heavy sigh to himself at the idea of scrounging up more fuel for the fire.

"Hey Swann, we're gonna-"

The large man is jolted fully awake as everything comes rushing back to him. He looks down to find the fae woman curled up in a fetal position on his lap with her back with a light cover of frost that gave an almost glazed look to Swann. He feels his stomach lurch as he raises a hand to her neck to try and search for any sign of a pulse, finding her skin to be cold as the landscape around them. Hellboy then feels it sink when he finds nothing.

"No,no,no, no come on."

Hellboy mutters to himself as he picks the smaller woman to squeeze against his body, which likely may not have been as effective as he would like given he's been shirtless in the cold the entire time, with frost forming on him. Yet, none of this bothered Hellboy, who starts rushing around the area with Swann still in his arms, desperately searching for anything he can burn while ignoring the hunger pangs from days of little food. While he didn't find any wood, he did find miscellaneous melted rubber parts from a variety of destroyed machines and items. Hellboy didn't care that it smelled worse than when either he or Swann would use a bit of their hair for kindling, as long as it made a fire which it did.

Sitting as close as he can, Hellboy sits by the fire again to get to work to warm up his fellow agent. After putting his hand directly in the fire for a few seconds, he rubs at her shoulders, arms, and neck to help give and generate heat. When this didn't make the faerie stir, Hellboy wracked his brain for anything else he could do to warm Swann up. He faintly remembers something about skin-to-skin contact being used in cases of hypothermia during the briefing before embarking on this job. Hellboy groans to himself at what he knows he has to do, but his resolve is steeled when looking down at the frozen fae woman in his arms.

Hellboy then starts unbuttoning Swann's jacket, enough so his left hand can slip down to her sternum, just above her breasts. He then starts rubbing counter-clockwise with the intention to generate heat to keep his partner's heart pumping. While not meaning to, as Hellboy was focusing on not overstepping his boundaries with the unconscious fae woman, he gets a glimpse of several stitched-up scars in the shape of claws peeking out from both sides of Swann's ribs. The large red man quickly looks away out of respect and embarrassment. He keeps averting his gaze from Swann as he holds her bare chest against his own bare chest with his beefy arms wrapped oh-so-carefully around her smaller form.

"I just know if you were awake, you wouldn't let me live any of this down. Right now, though, I wouldn't mind since it'll mean you're not dead."

Hellboy murmurs to the still-unconscious faerie.

The large red man sat there for what could've been hours, although there wasn't really any telling given how the sun seemed to barely have moved across the sky. Still, the fae woman didn't stir or give any indicators that she was still alive, not even a twitch. Hellboy knows he purposefully put off checking on the state of his only companion in the wintery landscape; which is why by the time the sun started to lower behind the horizon, he finally decided to grab one piece of metal from within Swann's pockets. Hellboy specifically rummaged for the most reflective piece before taking it out of his fellow agent's pocket and placing it under her nose. After a few moments that had Hellboy holding his breath, he takes the metal piece from under Swann's nose, finding nothing has changed for the metal not even the barest hint of steam.

"Swann? Swann? SWANN!"

Hellboy drops the metal piece to start shaking the unconscious, no, dead woman in his arms.

"Come on Swann! You know it's not the time to be foolin' around, Diyana! Diyana! Diyana please!"

After a few more minutes of futilely trying to wake Diyana up, the reality of the situation finally sinks in for Hellboy.

Diyana Swann is dead.

...

Hellboy may not have exactly gotten along well with the phooka, but he decided the best way to honor Diyana was to give her a proper burial. Well, as proper as he can with a six-foot deep grave, buttoning her back up in her coat, and placing a makeshift cross made of scrap metal. Hellboy has never really been to a funeral before so he doesn't know what exactly he's supposed to do. He spent a good part of his day just sitting at the foot of Diyana's grave, just twiddling his thumbs as he tries to come up with something to say, some nice last words, but nothing came.

Hellboy felt frustration bubbling hot in his chest and mixing in the heavy stone that settled in the pit of his gut. He wishes he could've done more to keep his partner alive, to not have let her down so badly. While he wishes he could've learned more about her, being stranded with Diyana gave him a glimpse behind the flirty and lofty persona of someone much more vulnerable, human even. Hellboy concludes that now, any secrets she hid, died with her, meaning he may never really know Diyana.

Hellboy curls up on himself with the two-way radio clutched in hand, the fire having gone out hours ago. He spends the next few days like this, slipping in and out of consciousness, only moving to eat some of the snow around him. Hellboy ends up staying in his curled position for so long that frost and icicles start forming all over him.

...

crunch

Hellboy slightly raises his head at the sound. What was that noise?

crunch

There it is again. The large red man turns his head in the direction of Diyana's grave in an attempt to pinpoint the noise. Could it have been some fallen snow? No, Hellboy reasons to himself. It's just hills and hills of snow all around him. Besides, he hasn't even moved from his spot to disturb any of the debris around him for days.

crunch crunch crunch

Okay, definitely not falling snow. In fact, if Hellboy's hunch is right, that noise is coming from-

Crunch Crunch CRUNCH

A muddied gloved hand pops from out of Diyana's grave, followed by another hand, then a muddied and snow-covered Diyana gasping for breath. Hellboy scrambles for the gun he swiped from the fae woman to aim it at the latter as she starts dragging her upper half out of her grave. He could only stare slack-jawed as his formerly, dead partner starts to sink a bit back into the loose snow before she starts to claw at the snow to get a good grip on the ground. Diyana's grunts and heavy panting helped snap Hellboy out of his stupor, making him rush to the faerie's grave to offer her his giant stone hand. She takes it, and Hellboy heaves against the snow and mud's suction around her waist to yank her out of the grave onto more stable ground.

Diyana crawls a few feet from the grave before collapsing on her back, taking huge gulps of air she's been deprived of. Hellboy stares down at her with his hooved feet on either side of her head, disbelief in his features. His, now-alive, partner lets out a few coughs before speaking in a scratchy voice.

"Why the fuckin' hell did you bury me alive?"

A long pause sits between them to the point Diyana thinks that the large man didn't hear her. She opens her mouth to repeat her question, but Hellboy finally answers her inquiry, gesticulating with his hands to hammer his words in.

"Why? Why? I thought you were dead!"

"Well, it's fierce obvious that I ain't."

Diyana then rights herself in a sitting position to stretch her stiff arms and crack her neck. She then starts to dust off the mud and snow on her.

"I-I checked for a pulse, and if you were breathing, you didn't have one, and you stopped breathing!"

"Technically, yes, I was dead for a few hours or so, but no, I wasn't really. Help me up, please?"

Diyana raises her arms up toward Hellboy, who obliges and reaches down to help the fae woman to her feet. It's clear that the long period of inactivity in the cold has affected Diyana's leg muscles, given how when she tried to take a step of her own, her legs wobbled before collapsing under her. The whole sight reminded her partner of a newborn deer taking its first steps. Hellboy helps her up again, but keeps an arm extended like an old-fashioned gentleman for Diyana to hang on to as she takes some shaky steps toward the now-extinguished firepit.

"You haven't answered my question, what do you mean you weren't really dead?"

"While my form is humanoid,"

Diyana gestures to herself with a free hand.

"... and follows most of the human anatomy rules, I made a few adjustments to it when I first conjured it, including hibernation for our sort of situation."

"You mean you were going under Torpor?"

The faerie woman nods.

"Aye."

Hellboy then proceeds to help his alive partner to take a seat near the firepit, carefully lowering her down in a sitting position before taking a seat next to her.

"And you're just now telling me this, why?"

Diyana at least had the decency to look sheepish. She places her tail in her hand and starts to pick at the mud still stuck to it.

"See here, Red, I really didn't mean to give ya such a startle,"

"Too late for that."

"... Either way, I was gonna say somethin' about it, but I suppose it slipped my mind."

Hellboy gives a few incredulous blinks. "Yeah, the fact that starving while in freezing temperatures leads to you becoming essentially dead to the world, is totally easy to forget about bringing up."

Diyana raises her hands up in surrender.

"Aye, aye, aye, I get it. But to be fair, I was a bit busy with other tasks at hand and I thought I would go into hibernation later."

Hellboy lets out a heavy sigh as he starts to slouch forward while rubbing a hand down his face and muttering under his breath.

"Goddammit lady..."

He then turns his head to look back over to Diyana with a softer expression.

"At least you're not dead. That's all that matters."

Hellboy recognizes the coquettish smirk that spreads across his partner's face and how her tail curls up in a tight "S" shape.

"Hold on, were you actually concerned for lil' ol' me, Handsome? I didn't think you cared so much."

"I was concerned about going crazy on my own, but at least with you still alive I have someone to blame."

Diyana titters in amusement with the tip of her finger delicately placed over her mouth at Hellboy's deadpan delivery.

"And yet you went as far to give me a nice little burial."

"It's not like I could've just left your "corpse" on the ground like garbage."

The phooka woman gives a dismissive wave of her hand.

"I wouldn't get in a twist too much over that, when I actually die, you wouldn't have anythin' to actually bury. I'd just return to the earth one way or 'nother."

"What do ya mean by that?"

"You'll know it when you see it."

Diyana ends on an, in Hellboy's opinion, ominous note. The faerie woman leans in his direction before speaking.

"Mind if we huddle up again? I'm bleedin' foundered from just having to dig myself out of the snow since somebody buried me alive."

Hellboy rolls his eyes but obliges and places Diyana on his lap.

"Yeah, yeah, I figured. I would've let you anyways so need to rub it in."

"That's grand to know, Handsome."

Hellboy didn't need to see his partner's face to know she was grinning. "This is only because we're in this sort of environment, so this is a one-time thing."

"I have a feeling it won't be just one-time,"

Diyana gives another low chuckle that causes Hellboy to feel more warmth building up in his body than earlier.

"but in all seriousness, I should warn you given our current situation, I'll be falling back into Torpor in perhaps a few hours to a few days."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"Oh and Red?"

Hellboy lets out a hum in acknowledgment.

"When I do go into hibernation again, please don't bury me alive."

"Keep bringing it up and I might just be tempted to do so."

...

Diyana stares at the low fire while eating her ball of snow for the evening, cat-like eyes in deep contemplation. Over what? Hellboy doesn't have a clue, as he, too, finishes his snowball. He then wraps his arms around his partner and sets his head on top of her head in their usual position. Hellboy doesn't worry too much when he starts feeling a wave of exhaustion creeping on the edges of his mind, as even in this freezing climate, he doesn't quite feel the unforgiving bite of winter the same as everyone. He's about to doze off until he's interrupted by Diyana speaking.

"Do you remember our conversation about where we would go after this ordeal?"

The fae woman asks in such a low volume that, even when the larger red man gave a low hum in acknowledgment, he could almost write it off as something his sleep-deprived mind conjured. That is until Diyana kept talking, a little louder this time.

"You also asked why I'd rather mingle among our fellow human agents than head back to the Emerald Isle. The answer's simple, I can't go back there because, I was exiled."

Hellboy's eyes widen in surprise as exhaustion starts to fall away.

"Did ya do something extremely horrible?"

Diyana gives a dry chuckle.

"Depends on your perception of "horrible," but I didn't commit any crimes against humanity. In fact, it was because I tried assisting that I can never go back."

Hellboy shifts in his position to get a better look at his fellow agent's expression to gauge whether or not she's lying. However, a part of him already knew that was not the case.

"How was that deemed horrible?"

Diyana sighs in melancholy, her ears drooping to match her feelings. She then reaches out a hand to the fire pit, where the shapeless smoke rising from the smoldering remains starts taking on a humanoid form with a faint purple outline around it.

"Perhaps a bit of visual aid would help to explain."

Hellboy squints at the whispy figure his partner made, recognizing it to be a smaller model of the latter. He watches in quiet awe as Diyana begins to weave her tale with smoke and color.

"Hundred of years and many moons ago, I was the typical young faerie. I would run across the Isle's plains and hills to my heart's delight and play tricks on any passing humans on a whim,"

The faerie woman then waves her hand to make the figure representing her turn change into a horse, then uses her other hand to creature a human-shaped figure that mounted her back. Horse Diyana appears to snicker before bolting off into the air, running circles around Hellboy's head. The horse-shaped apparition then dumps the unharmed and discombobulated person to the "ground" before galloping off. The horse shifts back into a younger Diyana, who turns to spot an entire phantasm village complete with featureless and ghostly men, women, and children milling about. The smoke-made faerie climbs a constructed tree to watch the village from afar.

"Other times, in between playing tricks collecting trinkets, and shining baubles that caught my eye, I would spend hours observing humans and all their quirks. So fickled, many of them are, clinging to rules and then having to adapt to seemingly nonsensical new rules before deciding ta hell with them! Yet, I can't deny how fond I am of their creativity and ingenuity,"

With a flick of her wrist, the village becomes formless for a moment before splitting off into shapes consisting of heavy plows; musket rifles; mechanical clocks; wheelbarrows; a water mill; the spinning wheel; along with much more inventions that the large red man could only vaguely recognize from textbooks on the Medieval Ages. Hellboy can't take his eyes off of the smokey images as they move to reform and reshape the misty shapes into new figures, bending to Diyana's will as if she simply raises her hands. The images then solidify to show the younger faerie passing by non-humanoid figures working with hammers and anvils or on a loom, all to then raise their blades, chest plates, and robes in presentation.

"In that same vein, I would watch the goblins and hobgoblins taking the pretty baubles they collected to make splendid blades and armor for the fae kings and queens,"

Diyana then makes a fist that she brings down on the flat of her palm.

"BANG! CLANG! Went the hammers,"

The conjugated shapes of the goblins raised their hammers and smashed them against their anvils, with sparks somehow flying from within the smoke.

"WHOOSH! Went their great furnaces."

Smoke, tinged orange, surged from behind the figures before dispersing and adding to the weaver's loom; from it, they produce a long unbroken flowing stream of smoke that gently flutters in the air.

"How could I not also love watching the other faeries and queens create beautiful art resulting from all the dedication and intricacy equal to that of the goblin forgers? Eventually, I had enough of simply watching and decided to try crafting, but with my own twist."

Diyana then manipulates the smoke to depict her younger self using her hands to shape formless blobs of smoke before presenting them to changing crowds of faes, including ones with crowns on their heads.

"I would create enchanted clothing that not only was fit for royalty but for battle with layers of their robes and gowns doubling as an arsenal of blades or belts as whips and swords. Soon word spread of my talent, and shortly after, which were sought after far and wide by many kings and queen's courts, including their monarchs themselves!"

"Sounds impressive."

Diyana nodded in agreement without taking her eyes off the image she conjured of another goblin patting her younger self on the back while said self puffed out her chest and beamed in pride. With her focus diverted, Hellboy glances down at his fellow agent to find her pupils dilated and glistening. He then watches those pupils contract into thin slits and ball her hands into fists, the images darkening to match her change in mood.

"In my naive attempt to earn the praise and adoration of both human and fair folk, I tried to gift every human on the Emerald Isle items that I thought could improve their lives."

Diyana then makes a sweeping gesture to the smoke, causing it to writhe around before briefly stilling to create the items she then describes.

" Including mechanical bulls that would be more efficient in plowing their fields so they would not age nor become tired; small portions of lightning to help light and warm their homes; as well as clothing with pockets that are deeper than they first appear."

The fae woman clenches her hand into a fist, causing images, and the smoke disappears without a trace. When Diyana speaks again, her words are terse and have a venomous edge.

"Of course, the higher-ups didn't like that. They wanted to keep all the dwindling magic they could to themselves. When my mentor and the other royals learned what I did, they put me on trial. Heh, if you could call being chained up and forced to kneel while being scolded like a dog a trial. Even though, technically, by their own laws, I did nothing wrong."

Hellboy notices how his partner gripped her knees, causing the material of her gloves to creak. He's sure that if he could see her hands, the knuckles would be white from her grip.

"As the court decided my fate, I hoped I could rely on my friends and mentor, who encouraged my ambition, to defend me... I was wrong."

Hellboy looks back at Diyana, trying to gauge her thoughts, only to be met with a poker face that came from centuries of experience. The only thing to tell him about the pooka's internal state is how her tail twitched like an irritated cat. Diyana let out a heavy sigh, trying to push away the memory of how her mentor looked down at her chained form with disappointment and contempt etched deeply in his wrinkled face.

'If I knew you'd become a traitor to the wee folk, I would've never let ya step foot in my forge.'

She then takes a deep breath, her eyes burning with unshed tears. Diyana willed herself not to shed any before finishing her tale.

"After the court banished me from all of Northern Ireland, word soon spread of my... "treachery." No king or Queen's court would have me on their lands. Soon after, I was banished from setting foot in all of Ireland. So they put me on a boat with nothing but the clothes on my back, where it was decreed, I would never return to my homeland. Otherwise, I would suffer a slow and painful death before returning to the earth."

The pooka woman then leans back against Hellboy's barrel chest with her arms crossed over her chest. Without prompting, Hellboy wraps his arms around his partner, returning to their earlier position with him resting his chin atop Diyana's head. A veil of silence falls between them as the large red man contemplates and takes in what his fellow agent just divulged to him. Unlike when he buried his, presumably dead, partner, he's able to come up with a few words to say to her.

"... Do you ever miss it, your home? 'Cause for what it's worth, I'm glad to have you here."

Diyana feels her cheeks heating up and the corner of her mouth twitching, none of which Hellboy could see. Yet, he could hear the wistfulness in his partner's voice loud and clear.

"Aye, even with so many centuries have passed. I still long to run on its green grassy hills with the breeze in my mane; climb and rest in the woodlands, sometimes making small talk with travelers; drink from the marshes on a hot summer's day; pick blackberries in the brambles as a snack. It was once truly home for me."

"Do you miss anyone there?"

Hellboy catches Diyana's tail flicking in irritation out the corner of his eye.

"I doubt there'd be a welcome party much less a single faerie happy to see my mug. So they can all fuck their collective holes for all I care."

Hellboy lets out a chortle, which then breaks into a hearty laugh that proves infectious as Diyana soon joins in. A much-needed breath of alleviation both agents desperately needed.

...

Up high in the sky, miles the above the snowy landscape below is a chopper with the BPRD's signature logo on the side of the haul. Within the vehicle is Professor Broom and another agent accompanying the former in the search for Agent Hellboy and Agent Swann.

"We should be approaching the coordinates, Agent Muraro, but there's no sign of either of them so far."

Agent Muraro squints at the horizon, spotting what could be Hellboy's large figure crouched over.

"I think I see them or maybe just one, Professor. See something, anyway."

After landing the chopper, the Professor and Muraro approach the silhouette the latter spotted earlier. It turns out Muraro's initial assumption was correct as it became clear it was the two missing agents the closer they got.

"My word!"

Broom exclaims when he can make out more of the agents' states. Hellboy was hunched over with Swann's coat covering his back, although he and the coat were covered in snow and ice. However, the coat didn't do much to hide the large man's emaciated form, showcasing his prominent ribs and sunken cheeks. In his flesh hand was a similarly snow-covered hand-held two-way radio with some apparent modifications to lengthen the antenna. Similar to her larger partner, the faerie was covered in snow and ice with sunken in cheeks as a sign of starvation. Broom then takes notice of Swann curled up tightly in a ball in Hellboy's arms, one dirtied glove held over where his heart is and with both their tails intertwined.

...

Hellboy is the first one to regain consciousness, followed shortly by his partner, who's still in his lap. Diyana instinctively reaches for a knife strapped to her thigh when processing voices not belonging to her or her partner. When she opens her eyes, Broom and another man, another agent the faerie presumes, are standing on either side of her with a gloriously large campfire burning before her, melting the frigid chill from her bones with its searing heat.

"B-b-bruk Mor-r-rph..."

Diyana turns her head in the direction of Hellboy's groan, feeling his entire form shivering under her with both of them wrapped in a large blanket. She could feel his arms tight around her form trying to greedily take in her newly acquired warmth. Diyana opens her mouth to try and tell her fellow agent to ease up a little, but her words too came out as a jumbled mess.

" E-ee-ease u-upmh..."

"I think your lady friend is tryna tell you to ease up a little on her, kid. She's not a teddy bear."

The other agent speaks up for her. Hellboy glances down at Diyana before loosening his hold on her.

"Ssss-owy D-di-i-i."

Diyana gives a thumbs up to show all is good, not making any move to break away from Hellboy but opting to raise her hands toward the fire in front of them. Broom takes note of how at ease the two agents seem with each other compared to their usual quarrelsome interactions. Then again, he reasons, desperate times call for desperate measures.

The Professor then goes on to explain how the Bureau has been searching for Hellboy and Swann ever since they disappeared from the Ice Island for a little over six weeks. Finally, they had a lead when the U.S. department got word from Tokoyo that one of their whaling vessels picked up a BPRD distress call from the South Atlantic. Basically, the craft that took both agents ended up from the Earth's North Pole to its South in little time.

"...I can only speculate that the craft that brought you both here passed through the Earth, somehow. There are, of course, countless legends about the Hollow Earth, and hidden passages that connect one pole to another. I had assumed these to be metaphors for the hidden recesses of the human mind, but they may have a material reality. Perhaps those who constructed the craft had knowledge of such passages."

Swann then takes a sip from the hot cup of joe Muraro served her and Hellboy before handing it to the latter.

"Yer-rr... hmph... You're right the morans who had knowledge of the craft knew 'bout them and it's not too far outside the realm of possibilities for such passages to exist. We fae already use our own sorta of hidden passages to move from one place to another, however, while the Otherworld may be different in geography and built from the mortal realm it's still adjacent to it. I myself use but a fraction of them whenever I teleport."

Broom's eyes widen as his brows raise to his forehead.

"Fascinating, have you ever gotten a good look at these passages from within the Otherworld or this one?"

Diyana shakes her head.

"Nah, I don't really have to look, I more or less just know where I'm going when I'm in there."

"Genetic or muscle memory perhaps?"

"I would say more along the lines of the latter given I had years upon years of practice in regards to teleporting."

Muraro clears his throat to grab both scholars' attention.

"I have a question of my own for either you or Hellboy; what went on down here anyway?"

The man gestures with his head at the debris spread out around them. This time, Hellboy is the one to do the talking.

"Bunch of Nazis. Flying saucers. We took care of it."

Hellboy closes his eyes and takes a long sip of his joe.

...

EPILOGUE: Some Years Later

Hellboy and Diyana stand beside each other at the foot of a Queen sized bed with floral patterned covers and pillows. Hellboy glances between the bed to his fellow agent from the corner of his eyes.

"Um-"

"Let me stop ya there 'fore ya embarrass yerself. We can both share the bed. We're both fully grown adults, not some hormonal youngins."

"I guess you have a point."

Diyana then bites the bottom of her lip as her tail curls tightly on itself.

"But I wouldn't mind if you decide to have a ride with me."

"There it is."

Hellboy rolls his eyes playfully, not so surprised that's where the faerie woman's line of thinking went.

"In all seriousness, look at your sleeping options; we have one bleedin' bed set, there's a hard cold floor, and there's no couch unless you want to sleep on the small table and chair,"

Diyana gestures to the furniture placed right under one of the windows, giving them a nice view of the dense, snowy Norwegian woods with the sun dipping behind the tree line to bathe them in ethereal glow. A thick blanket of snow covers everything, including the only road leading to this middle-of-nowhere motel they're staying in. Hellboy then looks back at the bed before avoiding eye contact with his fellow agent.

"Remind me again why you didn't just spring us for a nice hotel?"

"'Cause the nearest one is about 70 kilometers away from where we're supposed to find some fire giants and this motel is closer."

"Yeah, that checks out."

Diyana then turns her head to look at her partner with a teasing smirk and hands on her hips.

"Is the idea of sharing a bed with me that horrible?"

"Err no. No. It's just, usually we have our own beds and err well,"

Hellboy groans with his left hand rubbing down his face, his tail flicking on its own accord. Without another word, Diyana grabs the pillows and starts evenly lining them down the middle as a barrier. When she finishes, she turns around to face her partner, gesturing to the pillow wall.

“Better?”

“Uh yeah, yeah, much better. “

Diyana gives Hellboy a soft smile.

“If it’s any comfort, it isn’t too different from when we ended up around Antarctica.”

“Right, just without the threat of freezing to death.”

“There we go!”

Diyana then crouches down to reach into her carpet bag to pull out a manilla folder with some papers, including pages copied from old tomes and newspaper clippings pertaining to the fire giants. She hands this folder to her fellow agent for him to review.

"Imma freshen up in the jacks and slip into somethin' more comfortable. Could you review the file meanwhile?"

"Not a problem."

"Thanks, Handsome."

Diyana struts past her partner, briefly looking over his shoulder to blow him a kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. Shortly after, Hellboy hears the sound of pipes creaking and groaning, followed by the sound of running water. He then sits on the right side of the only bed before opening the file and taking out a printed page detailing the fire giants' homeland, Muspellheim. Hellboy is unable to focus on the paper to the point he finds himself rereading the same paragraph over and over again without actually taking really reading it, his mind entirely on something not giant-related.

'What would Di's version of "something comfortable" be?'

In his mind's eye, he could see the pooka in a lacey nightgown that stopped just below the knees and hugged her curves in all the right ways, extenuating her lithe figure. The gown has thin straps, displaying her collarbone and a tasteful peak of her cleavage. Hellboy can almost hear Diyana's flirtatious words while giving her usual coquettish grin before it turns into a sweeter expression, her body language relaxed and at ease. She then opens her arms, beckoning him to-

'NO!'

Hellboy's head shoots up from his reading, wondering where that came from. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he groans to himself, frustrated with himself for conjuring those images.

'Come on, get it together! You're not some horny teenager that loses it by sleeping near a woman, much less a friend. You're a grown-ass man that can control himself! You're just sleeping beside your friend, not sharing a marriage bed!'

Hellboy lets out a long sigh before placing down the file, deciding to head out for a quick smoke. He just got up from the bed before the bathroom door opened with a large cloud of steam pouring out into the main room. Hellboy watches as Diyana's familiar figure emerges from the steam, releasing a breath he didn't realize he's been holding in relief.

Instead of the alluring nightgown he imagined, his partner wore a blue-green sleeping shirt with long sleeves with ruffles at the end; the collar was covered in lace but in a way that completely covered her chest and most of her neck. Diyana's lower half matches her upper half with pajama pants that only expose her from the ankle down. Instead of letting down her loose ebony locks, her hair is confined in a silky purple nightcap. Hellboy notes the single pink hair curler set at the end of his partner's tail with an amused snort. Diyana rolls her eyes with a small smile.

"You finished reading up on the file?"

"Yeah."

The large red man then picks up the file to hand to his partner's outstretched hand. In the back of his mind, he notes something different from his fellow agent's usual attire but quickly rationalizes it to wearing ordinary pajamas. He then goes to the front door with Diyana plopping down on the left side of the mattress with file in hand.

"Heading out for a smoke. I shouldn't be long."

"Aye, Imma do some light readin' here before turnin' in. Just lettin' ya know so you don't mistakenly bury me alive again."

Diyana could only see the back of Hellboy's head as he let out a pantomime groan.

"That was one time, Di."

With that, he opens the door and heads out, not having to look behind him to see his partner's amused grin. Later that evening, after deciding his head is clear enough, Hellboy steps back into the shared motel room. He surmises he may have been out for some time, judging by how he found Diyana fast asleep, curled up in a tight fetal position.

After hanging up his duster, Hellboy tries to move as quietly as he can, trying to be courteous to his fellow agent. Of course, stealth has never been exactly his strong suit and the fact he's walking against a hard floor with hooved feet didn't exactly help. He tenses up and stops dead in his tracks when his partner lets out a groan.

"Sorry, Di."

Hellboy whispers to the faerie who, besides a twitch of an ear, didn't seem to react to his words. Diyana shifts a bit in her slumber when HB finally lies down on the other side of the makeshift pillow barrier, causing the mattress to dip under his greater weight and the springs to creak, causing him to cringe.

"Sorry again, Di."

"Mrrhhh..."

Came the faerie's only response before stretching a bit and nuzzling into her pillow with her hands gripping the soft material. Hellboy glances over and suddenly hit him about what seemed so different about his partner.

'So she can take them off.'

He takes a moment to look over Diyana's ungloved hands, almost feeling as if he's seeing something he's probably not supposed to. Yet, he can't stop his eyes from noting her short black claws or the faint scratch lines and uneven skin from scars that dot the skin, possibly from years of working with machinery and or in the clothing business. If he were to hold one of these hands, they're probably a bit calloused from centuries of labor. Would Diyana let him hold her bare hands, he wonders? Realizing he may have been staring too long, Hellboy is quick to lie down with his back to his partner and a giant stone fist hanging off to the side.

...

Dawn barely broke out from behind the horizon when Diyana woke up. She lets out a yawn before huddling close to the source of warmth in her arms, her mind in a sort of haze as it stood between sleep and consciousness. In the back of her mind, Diyana finds herself wanting nothing more than to stay surrounded by the warm cozy thing and its pleasant smell that reminded her somewhat of roasted peanuts. Yet the sound of light snoring has Diyana opening her eyes, filling them with crimson.

She pulls away a little to find the warmth she was cuddling is actually Hellboy. She glances away from him to find the pillows she set up yesterday scattered all over the bed, leaving nothing between them. Sometime during the night, he moved onto his back so his massive stone hand was still hanging off the side of the bed, but his left arm was wrapped around her shoulders. Diyana is on her side, tucked against Hellboy, with her bare hands pressed against her fellow agent's chest, one hand right over his heart. While their legs were still covered by the comforter, the faerie woman could feel her leg hooked on the inside of her partner's leg, their tails intertwined.

Diyana feels the back of her neck all the way to the tip of her ears grows hotter with each passing second, unintentionally giving Hellboy's tail a squeeze with her own. In return, the large red man gives Diyana a small squeeze of his own while muttering something too incoherent for her to make out. After spending a few minutes biting her lower lip to keep from screaming, she then takes a deep breath, willing her racing heart to slow down, which works, sorta. Diyana could still feel the prominent blush on her cheeks as she tucked her head back under Hellboy's jaw, the sound of his soft snoring in one ear and the sound of his heart beating strongly in another. She then closes her eyes, a small genuine smile on her face, and lets herself believe that, just for one moment, they're not merely co-workers and friends sleeping next to each other; instead, this is a-

'No. No, I just want to enjoy a few more minutes of shut-eye.'

Diyana fervently tries to convince herself before deciding to just let herself relax in Hellboy's embrace.

When her fellow agent began to stir awake, the faerie quickly popped into the bathroom to get ready for a day of giant hunting. Back in bed, Hellboy fully stirs awake and looks over the collapsed pillow barrier.

A/N I have no regrets for making such a long piece! Stay weird, my fellow humans!

#Hellboy #mike mignola #Dark horse comics #My writing #Hellboy fanfic #Hellboy x OC #Hellboy/OC #Diyana Swann #Pooka #Puca #Phooka #Arctic setting #drabble #Dark Horse #one room one bed trop

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thirsty-n-indulgent · 2 years

Text

Sneak peak at the next chapter of ‘Nature and Science’

Her cabin sat dark and lonely among several trees. It was small and one story, with a stone chimney that peaked out of the worn cedar shingles from the rear of the snow-dusted roof. Two windows dotted the front on either side of the door, giving it some symmetry, and there was a front porch that made the entire thing seem bigger. To one side of the barren yard sat a firepit stacked with stones and two Adirondack chairs which, upon drawing closer, Otto noted looked splintery and decidedly unfriendly. The near empty property looked picturesque, save for the truck parked in the bushes to the side of the cabin, rusty and covered with a ragged and worn blue tarp. Another car sat beside it sporting a cracked windshield and destroyed front bumper; the hood was bent inward, and Otto wondered if Elle had perhaps hit something with it. Wood piles were scattered everywhere, and Otto could hear the gentle trickle of a stream over the wind.

Elle lowered herself to the ground and Otto barely had time to slide off before she had begun to shrink into her skin, fur shedding and limbs cracking as they reformed themselves. She shook herself, lifting each foot off the ground and swinging her legs to ensure everything worked as it should. Then, she unceremoniously grabbed her jacket from Otto’s clutching hands and began fishing about in her pockets.

“They don’t suit you,” she said, eyeing her sunglasses on his face.

Finding what she was looking for, a small brass key like any other, she slid her jacket back on.

He watched her step up to the front door and unlock it, marveling at how healed her skin looked. She bore fresh, vicious scars that raced down her arms like lightening.

Of course, he thought. If she didn't have some sort of healing factor, like Peter, her bones couldn't reshape and she'd be crippled by her... shifting.

She pushed through the door and waved him into the darkness beyond the threshold. Otto hesitated momentarily, looking from Elle to the gun still clutched in his hand.

“Should I leave this outside?”

“Oh, fuck no,” Elle answered quickly. With her hat, she gestured to somewhere on the other side of the door before she disappeared into the black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The whole story so far can be found at https://archiveofourown.org/works/43330521/chapters/108920187

#spiderman #Spider-Man: No Way Home #Marvel MCU #marvel universe #marvel #Doctor Octopus #Doc Ock #Doctor Otto Octavius #Doctor Octavius #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #otto octavius #oc

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technicallykeenchaos · 5 months

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Embracing the Warmth: The Art and Science of Firewood Selection

In the heart of winter, there's a primal comfort in the crackle and glow of a well-stoked fire. Yet, behind this elemental pleasure lies a thoughtful process: the selection of firewood. Beyond mere fuel, firewood embodies a delicate balance of art and science, where each log carries its own story, potential, and characteristics. Let's delve into the intricacies of palivové dřevo selection and uncover the secrets to a perfect blaze.

Firstly, not all firewood is created equal. Each species boasts distinct qualities that can significantly influence your fire experience. Hardwoods like oak and maple burn longer and hotter, making them ideal for sustained warmth during chilly nights. On the other hand, softwoods like pine ignite quickly, perfect for kindling but requiring frequent replenishment. Understanding the properties of different woods empowers you to tailor your fire to your specific needs, whether it's a slow-burning evening by the hearth or a swift, cozy firepit gathering.

Beyond species, the moisture content of firewood is paramount. Wet or "green" wood not only produces excessive smoke but also fails to generate sufficient heat, leaving you shivering in disappointment. Seasoned wood, however, has been properly dried, ensuring optimal combustion and efficiency. Investing in a moisture meter can be a game-changer, allowing you to gauge the readiness of your firewood with precision.

But firewood selection isn't solely about functionality; it's an opportunity to engage with nature's diversity. Each piece of wood tells a story of its origin, from the gnarled branches of an ancient oak to the slender limbs of a fragrant cedar. Embracing this diversity adds depth to your fire experience, connecting you to the natural world in a tangible, intimate manner.

Moreover, sourcing firewood ethically is essential for environmental sustainability. Opting for locally sourced wood reduces carbon emissions associated with transportation while supporting your community's economy. Additionally, prioritizing dead or fallen trees minimizes the ecological impact, preserving the vitality of forests for generations to come. By embracing responsible practices, you not only nurture your fire but also contribute to the broader health of our planet.

In the realm of firewood, preparation is key. Proper storage ensures that your wood remains dry and seasoned, ready to ignite at a moment's notice. Stacking wood in a well-ventilated area, elevated from the ground, protects it from moisture and pests while allowing air circulation for optimal drying. Investing time in preparation pays dividends when winter's chill descends, granting you the gift of effortless warmth and comfort.

Furthermore, firewood selection transcends mere practicality; it's a form of self-expression. The scent of cedar or the crackle of birch evokes memories, stirs emotions, and sets the tone for intimate gatherings or solitary reflections. In a world often dominated by technology and haste, the simplicity of tending a fire reconnects us to our primal roots, grounding us in the present moment and fostering a sense of peace.

In conclusion, the art and science of firewood selection offer a gateway to a deeper connection with nature and oneself. By understanding the nuances of different wood species, prioritizing sustainability, and embracing the rituals of preparation, we transform a mundane task into a soul-nourishing experience. So, as the flames dance and the embers glow, let us savor the warmth of the fire and the richness of life's simple pleasures.

#palivové dřevo #krbové dřevo

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klayaeus · 7 months

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Stay Warm in Chilly Weather Conditions

Nothing like snuggling up with a warm, crackling fire as the winter weather turns chilly and frost covers the ground. Where is the source of that firewood, though? Where firewood providers come in, though, is exactly were! In the dead of winter, we rely on these unsung warriors to supply the fuel that lights our fireplaces and makes our houses snug. You can say that Wood Suppliers in Dubaiis a best source to get fire woods we want in winter.

How to Pick the Best Firewood Provider?

Several factors make it critical to choose a reliable firewood or Charcoal Suppliers in Uae. Priority one: quality. How clean and efficient your fire is will depend on the wood you use to burn it. Further, long-term viability is essential. To preserve the ecosystem for the benefit of generations to come, responsible sourcing guarantees ethical forest management. Trustworthiness is crucial. Mainly, when the temperature drops and your heating demands are at higher side, you need a provider that reliably deliversRound Corten Steel Plantersor Charcoal in Dubai.

Things to Consider When Choosing a Firewood Provider

In terms of wood quality, try to find Hardwood Pellets for Saleor vendors that sell seasoned hardwoods such as oak, maple, or birch. Less smoke and creosote buildup, which can cause chimney fires, are byproducts of burning wood that has been seasoning.

Suppliers of Cor-Ten Steel Planters for Sale with easy door-to-door delivery choices should be seriously considered. If you cannot carry a lot of firewood on your own, this will save you a lot of time and energy. To further facilitate the orderly storage of your wood, certain vendors even provide stacking services.

Customer Reviews: Read what other people have to say about your business online. A trustworthy and reliable supplier will have positive reviews. Take note of feedback regarding the consistency of delivery, the quality of the wood, and the service provided.

Value and pricing: You should not base your decision only on pricing. Think on the supplier’s value proposition, considering features like wood quality, sustainability, and customer service. Spending a bit more up front can often be justified by the superior quality of the wood and the care you receive.

Why Firewood Suppliers Are Beneficial?

Save time and effort by not having to find and carry firewood yourself when you work with a reliable supplier of Firepits for Sale. You can spend that time relaxing by the fire with loved ones instead of cutting and stacking wood.

Guaranteed High-Quality: When you shop with seasoned experts, you can be assured that you will obtain firewood of the highest quality, allowing you to get the most out of your fires. More and more heat is produced with less amount of ash and smoke when utilizing well-seasoned wood as it burns cleaner and hotter.

During the winter months, firewood vendors are essential for maintaining a warm and comfortable house. The dependability, sustainability, and quality of your firewood supply can be assured by selecting the correct source. Be careful with your fuel selection the next time you need to light a fire in your home.

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jplupine · 1 year

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Feral Possession: Chapter 11

Old Rival

Pairing: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Wynter Hughes [Nonbinary OC] Word Count: ~4.6k WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Exophilia, Demon!Grimmjow, Feral Behavior, Grimmjow being a Terror, Threats of Bodily Harm

Summary: Hosting a BBQ is easier when there's not a demon and exorcist present at the same time.

You can also read it on AO3!

Masterlist | Chapter 11:

Sweat was dripping down my back as the summer sun beat down on me. I had already managed to mow the lawn, but the sun was continuing to be relentless as I did yard work. The damn demon wasn't even bothering to help and instead took to lounging in the pool while sipping on some juice.

"You know, a lot of this shit is from you." I rose my voice while dragging a broken tree limb across the yard. "Wouldn't hurt to clean up after yourself."

"I fought the demon, my job here is done." Grimmjow raised his glass at me while grinning. He was in his human form again, but I could assume that had more to do with everyone coming over later for a barbecue.

"You could at least help me chop the wood."

"Nah, you're doing fine over there, Little Rabbit. Keep up the good work." Huffing, I snapped the twigs and smaller branches from the main branch. Making a pile for kindling, I then went to the porch and grabbed the ax. Propping it on my shoulder, I placed my other hand on my hip while looking at the blue-haired man floating on a blow-up seat.

"I thought you'd jump at the chance to break something."

"Breaking bones, yes. Chopping wood, no." Grimmjow waved a finger at me. "Go on, Little Rabbit. Get the wood for tonight's dinner." He was both taunting and condescending, making me roll my eyes.

"You're just the fuckin' rich lady, and I'm the pool boy." Shaking my head, I saw Grimmjow raise a brow at me. "It's a trope. Rich lady has the pool boy do laborious tasks so she can ogle him as he works. And you, in the pool, have been watching me this entire time, working."

"Sounds more like a porn trope."

"Well, it's that too."

"Oh?"

"No."

"Then, go on, pool boy. Finish your tasks." Grimmjow smirked before taking a drink. Sighing through my nose, I went back to the branch and set to work. I had already been sweating, and swinging the ax down on the wood only made me sweat more. I'd already taken my shirt off earlier, so I was just going to have to deal with this for now.

I was soon craving the shower that would follow this.

"You missed a spot!" Grimmjow hollered.

"I'm chopping wood, not cleaning, you ass!" I shouted back before pulling the ax from the branch to swing it again. "You're so much nicer when you're sleeping." I popped off.

"I heard that!"

"Good!"

"Yui said she's bringing her cousin with her, so you better behave." I looked right at Grimmjow while drying my hair with a towel. He clicked his tongue at me, and I pointed. "I mean it. I will compel you to behave if I have to."

"Bore me to death, why don't you?"

"I just might." Pushing open the back door, I let Dagur run out and dropped my towel to my shoulders. "Hey, how are you with alcohol? Daniel's bringing booze to go with the barbecue."

"Doesn't do shit. Who the fuck is Daniel?"

"I do have more than just two friends, you know."

"Shock."

"Grimmjow, sit." I heard a thump followed by low growling. "We still have some time before I have to start cooking. Do you want me to make you do chores in that time?"

"Fuck you."

"I didn't think so." Checking the time, I slid the towel off of my shoulders. "I should go ahead and start the fire, though." I muttered before going to put away the towel.

Going out to the firepit, I stacked the kindling in with leaves before pulling out the lighter. Holding the small flame close to the leaves, they caught fire. I gently blew on the little fire to feed it as it slowly spread to the sticks.

I tended to the fire to make sure it wouldn't go out and steadily added more sticks to burn until there was a strong flame rising from the firepit.

"You got a phone call." Grimmjow called out from the back door. "Your little girlfriend is on her way."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Whatever." I rolled my eyes.

"Why were you even answering my phone?"

"'Cause there's caller ID, and I don't give a shit about pissing you off." Looking back over my shoulder, I saw the demon leaning on the doorway with his arms crossed. "You know what? Maybe I should send your nudes to your friends." His gaze dropped as one of his hands lifted to show he had my cell phone.

"I don't have nudes, you jackass."

"They don't know that." Grimmjow stood up, and I saw him fiddling with my phone while his other hand was on his hip.

"What are you doing?"

"Making nudes."

"....What?"

"Making nudes." He then pulled the waistband of his sweatpants outward and aimed the phone down. There was a flash of light, and my eyes widened.

"Stop!" I scrambled to my feet, and the demon got a Chesire grin while taking another photo. "Grimmjow!" He then bolted from the door while maniacally laughing. He ran so quickly to the living room with me chasing after him, and then vaulted over the couch to avoid me. "I fucking swear!"

"Who should I send 'em to first, huh?!" He called back to me as I chased him up the stairs.

"Delete them!"

"How about your little girlfriend? She'll be mighty impressed, Wynter!" He burst into another fit of laughter while waving the phone.

"No!" I managed to corner him at the end of the hall, but with cat-like grace, he jumped right over my head and ran back down the hallway. "You fucker!"

"Oooh, how about piss-boy?! Make him really jealous!"

"I'm gonna kill you!"

"You literally can't, Little Rabbit!" Grimmjow laughed while turning to face me as he waved the phone to taunt. "I'll just send 'em to all your contacts. How's that?"

"Don't you dare." I pointed at him.

"It's just the 'Send All' option, right?" He looked at the phone's screen with amusement on his features while I was panting from running back and forth through the house. Wait....why was I even chasing him?

"Grimmjow, give me my phone." I commanded, and his grin fell as his hand shot out in my direction. His arm was shaking as he tried to fight the compulsion, and I snatched my phone from his hand. I saw my home screen and went to the photo album to delete his pictures. "Grimmjow, sit." I quickly said when he looked as if he was going to snatch the phone back.

I then paused.

I'd have to see the photos to delete them.

"It just dawned on ya, didn't it?" Grimmjow gave a shit-eating grin. "Go on, Little Rabbit. Delete the photos."

"You're so immature."

"Try not to stare too much."

"Please, it wouldn't be the first dick I've seen. I mean, I'm looking at one right now." I popped off while looking him dead in the eye, and his eyebrow twitched as he snarled. Tapping on the camera album, the photos loaded. I then rolled my eyes as my shoulders slumped. "You fucking asshole."

Grimmjow cracked up, knowing the photos he took were just of his boxers and nothing more than that. I then paused and looked back at my phone screen.

"Wait, are those-"

"I don't have any human clothes, what did you expect?"

"I'm gonna have to get you your own clothes, aren't I?" I sighed while pinching the bridge of my nose. "Whatever, I'll just deal with this later." Quickly deleting the two photos, I pocketed the device. There was a knock at the door then, and my gaze drifted to it. "Go put some more sticks in the fire. Only a handful." I pointed at Grimmjow while going to the door.

The demon wandered to the backyard, and I opened the front door.

"Yui, welcome!" I smiled, and she handed me a box of cookies.

"Hey. Wynter, this is my cousin, Ichigo. Ichigo, this is Wynter."

"Pleasure to meet you." The taller man with bright orange hair politely nodded to me with a smile.

"You, too. Come on in." I stepped back while opening the door wider. However, as soon as the brown-eyed man passed me, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end until he got further away while following Yui. Furrowing my brows, I stared at the back of his head while shutting the door.

"I hope the cookies are the right kind for the barbecue."

"Any cookies are." I chuckled while bringing them to the kitchen island to set them down. "I was just about to take the meat out to the fire, too."

"Sweet." Yui grinned. "Is the roomie showing up?"

"Yeah, he's out back tending to the fire."

"Should I warn Gary?"

"He'll behave this time." Getting the tray of marinated meat, I maneuvered around the two guests and went for the back door. "So, Ichigo, any certain ways you like your food?"

"Uh, no. I'm not a picky eater." He waved his hand.

"All right, then. Wait, you're not vegetarian, are you? Because most of dinner is meat."

"No, I eat meat."

"Okay, good. Didn't want anyone left out." I chuckled, but again, as soon as I passed him specifically, the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. So Yui's cousin had a lot of spiritual energy unlike her....

"Are we the first ones here?" Yui asked as we stepped into the backyard.

"Yup. The others should start showing up soon, though." I replied while seeing Grimmjow poke the fire with a stick. He then visibly tensed before his nose was in the air and twitching. 'Oh, please tell me a demon isn't about to crash my barbecue.' I mentally groaned.

But then Grimmjow's feral, blue eyes shot in our direction and locked on Ichigo. His face twisted into a vicious snarl as he shot to his feet.

"Kurosaki!" He roared with his hands balled into fists at his sides.

"Oh, fuck!" I quickly shoved the tray into Yui's hands as she looked absolutely baffled.

"Shit!" Ichigo hissed under his breath, and for a brief moment, it was as if time slowed as I got between the demon and Yui's cousin. I didn't know what exactly was going on, but I'd never seen Grimmjow this angry. The two also seemed to know each other and not in a good way.

"Hey! Hey, calm done!" I yelled over the growling as I tried to push the demon back. He was barely even budging, and I could see his teeth sharpening. He was close to transforming, but Yui was right there as well as Ichigo. Grabbing the back of the demon's head, I yanked him down. "Grimmjow, stop!" I said to where only he could hear me, and he froze.

The growling even stopped as relief flooded my veins.

"Is....Is everything okay?" Yui asked with concern clear in her voice.

"Fine. You want to tell me how you know him?" My attention turned to Ichigo as I still had a hold on the demon. The man looked rather shocked while his mouth was hanging open.

"Uh.... I.... We met in high school. Didn't get along." He was clearly lying because no way in Hell was this demon ever in high school. He knew I knew he was lying too, given the nature of the blue-haired man.

"Grimmjow, follow me." I commanded, then grabbed his wrist to drag him into the house. "We'll be right back." I smiled at Yui, who still looked baffled, and took the demon to where he couldn't even see into the backyard. "What the fuck is going on?!"

"Nothing. Just got a score to settle." Grimmjow snarled and took a step forward.

"Uh-uh." I put a hand on his chest to push him back. "You are not going back out there if you can't keep your shit under control. That's Yui's cousin."

"He's a fucking exorcist." The demon growled.

"Exorcist?!"

"Yes."

"How the Hell does he know you? I thought you just killed the exorcists you-" I cut myself off as he was looking down at me with such an angry expression. His heart was beating with fury beneath my palm, and my gaze dropped to his chest. "He's the one that gave you the scar."

"Yes, he is. Now I'm gonna tear him to shreds-"

"Grimmjow, stop." He froze again. "I want you to listen to me." Grabbing his face, I made him look at me. "You can't do that. You know you can't do that. You do anything to him, and you'll have the cops all over this place."

"You think I care about some fucking-"

"They'll try to take you away, dumbass. You're bound to this property, what happens when they force you off it? You fight back to stay here, and it'll only make it all worse. You hide from them, then I'll be the one taken. It's not just your ass on the line here, Grimmjow." I paused while looking at his face to see if what I was saying was getting through to him.

He still looked furious, but he wasn't baring his fangs anymore.

"Now, if you can't handle this, stay in the house." I dropped my hands from his face, and his expression changed.

"Where the fuck are you going?"

"Back outside. I can't just stay in here."

"Like fuck you're going back out there without me."

"I'm not a demon. He won't do anything to me."

"But he is." Grimmjow grabbed my wrist while looking at me with a serious expression.

"What?"

"Kurosaki is half-demon. If that part of him gets the scent of your power, there's no guarantee it won't try to get you."

"But you said he's an exorcist?"

"And half-demon. How else do you think he possibly had the power to fuckin' scar me?" Grimmjow lowly growled. "You're not going anywhere near him without me."

"Then control yourself."

"Someone want to fill me in on what's going on?" Another voice spoke up, and I turned to see Ichigo in the hallway. Except, my eyes quickly landed on a glint of metal beside his leg.

He had a katana.

Where the Hell did he get it from? He clearly didn't have a sword when he had arrived.

Grimmjow's growl was like a rumbling storm as he looked at the orange-haired man. Ichigo shifted on his feet while raising his katana to prepare for an attack, but that only made the demon growl more.

"Quit it, you two!" I rose my voice. "Yui is right outside and this is my god damned house! You! Put that thing down." I pointed at Ichigo, and he actually looked shocked.

"You've got to be kidding me! You know what he is!"

"You are a guest in my house. I don't have to let you stay here."

"That demon needs to be exorcised-"

"I know. ....I'm working on it."

"....What?"

"It's a long story. Look, just lower the sword, you're only pissing him off more."

"He's a demon! You can't seriously be protecting him."

"From what he says, you're not entirely human either. And I'm not protecting him, I'm protecting you. I'm the only thing keeping him from ripping you apart, so put the fucking sword down." Ichigo's gaze hardened as his jaw clenched, but he let go of the sword, and it turned to smoke.

"You know his real name, don't you? There's no other way he'd just back down."

"I do."

"What is it?"

"None of your fucking business." Grimmjow snarled.

"You said you were working on exorcising him, meaning you're an exorcist, right? Sharing a demon's true name keeps us all safer."

"Pantera is mine to deal with. I've got this under control."

"You can't possibly-"

"Just fuck off." The demon stood closer behind me while glaring at Ichigo.

"Will you shut up? I'm trying to deal with this."

"There's no way you have him under control. Pantera will kill you the second he has the chance. He's too dangerous to-"

"Oh! Oh, wait, I've got a solution to this." I waved my finger as my eyes widened. "Look, I honestly mean it when I say I have this under control. I know more about this asshole than what's documented."

"What?"

"Just watch this." Raising my hand, I reached up and began to scratch under Grimmjow's jaw. Like a flip of a switch, his growls turned into deep purrs as he leaned into it.

Ichigo's face looked as if he was experiencing multiple emotions at once, the most prevalent one being bewilderment. To emphasize my statement even more, I lowered my hand a little bit, and the demon followed until he finally snapped out of it and smacked my hand away.

"You little fucker!"

"....You have got to be kidding me." Ichigo repeated.

"No. Look, I've been with Pantera for months, and I'm still alive, that's got to tell you that I know what I'm doing. So, when I say I can deal with him, I mean it."

"Months?!"

"Long story."

"This is fucking crazy." Ichigo ran a hand through his hair. "You know I'm going to have to report this."

"What? To who?"

"....The Soul Society?"

"Soul Society?"

"Think of it as the head office for exorcists." Grimmjow explained. "Wynter isn't an official exorcist."

"You have to get officiated for that?" I questioned, and Ichigo ran a hand down his face.

"Okay, you show to somehow have a level of control over Pantera, which is unprecedented, no one documented has even learned the name of any of the current Espada, but you're telling me you managed all of this without being a member of the Soul Society?"

"....Pretty much." Glancing at Grimmjow, I then focused on Ichigo. "We should probably talk about this later. Yui is just out there by herself."

"Actually, Gary's here now."

"Fuckin' piss-boy." The demon grumbled, and I just knew he rolled his eyes.

"....I'm sorry, 'piss-boy'?"

"Pantera....peed on Gary."

"You nearly kill me, but now you're just....peeing on people?" Ichigo furrowed his brows while waving his hand.

"What, feeling left out? C'mere, and I'll piss on you too, fucker."

"Will you stop?!" I swatted Grimmjow, and he recoiled. "Ichigo, if you want to talk more about this, it's going to have to wait. Okay?"

"Yeah." He seemed to hesitate before taking a step back to leave. "Right."

"I better get something real fucking nice for not tearing into that bastard."

"Like what? Catnip?" I scoffed while crossing my arms.

"I'm not a fucking housecat." He growled as he grabbed my hips and yanked me back. "And I do mean something real nice, you hear me?" Grimmjow licked up the back of my neck while purring.

"Could you not right now?" I elbowed him back as he was chuckling.

"Right now?"

"You know what I mean. Just come on, jeez." I huffed and went to the backyard. Since I had rushed away with Grimmjow in tow, Yui had taken it upon herself to start grilling dinner so it wouldn't be late. "Sorry about all of that, I'll take over from here."

"No problem. Everything good now?" Yui's gaze drifted to Grimmjow and Ichigo.

"It's fine." The orange-haired man nodded.

"He give you a tough time, too?" Gary chuckled before taking a drink from his beer that he'd gotten from Daniel since he was here now as well.

"Oh, uh, no." Ichigo put on a smile while rubbing the back of his neck. "We actually used to go to school together and, uh, apparently not everything stayed in the past. Wynter's a good mediator, though, so it's all fine now."

"Really? Small world. Who would have thought you went to school with a friend of Wynter's uncle." 'Please, Gary. Don't question it.' I thought while setting a log into the firepit. "You know, their uncle actually renovated most of this house. Did you help?" Gary turned to Grimmjow, and the blue-haired man had his arms crossed with a displeased look on his face.

"Some of it."

"Oh, what parts? Maybe you can get a job in construction if your handiwork is good enough."

"I did some of the demolition. And what makes you think I need a job?" Grimmjow's eyes narrowed.

"Sorry, I just figured with you needing to crash here it was because you were broke and between jobs." Gary awkwardly laughed. "So, uh, what do you do then?" The demon glanced around the yard before looking back at Gary.

"Landscaping."

"Oh, did you do the work on the yard? It looks great." Yui smiled.

"No, Wynter did."

"All by themself?" Gary made a face.

"It gave me something to do." I stated while flipping the meat. "He was also at work."

"So what put you here if you've got a job like that?" Daniel asked while opening a beer.

"The apartment building wasn't up to code. All the tenants had to move." I explained while waving my hand since it looked like Grimmjow was blanking for a believable lie.

"Oh, that sucks."

"Hello?" I answered my phone after it rang.

"I'm at the door."

"It's unlocked. Go through the living room and past the kitchen. Follow the hall, and you'll find us."

"Gotcha!"

"Was that Veronica?" Gary asked.

"Yup."

"How many people are you having over?" Grimmjow looked at me.

"Just a few. Veronica's got the rest of 'em."

"You not like crowds, bud?" Daniel smiled before taking a drink. "It's just a little get-together." I saw the demon's eye twitch, but he kept a straight face.

"I was just wondering."

"We brought Rosé!" Veronica grinned while waving the two bottles of wine in her hands.

"Oh, that smells so good!" Judy's eyes landed on the firepit where I was grilling dinner.

"Your house is amazing, Wynter! Shit, can we move in?" Alex chuckled as she looked at the yard and pool.

"Someone already beat you to it." Yui popped off while looking at Grimmjow.

"Oh, damn! Wynter, when did you score this hunk?" Veronica was grinning, but Gary choked on his drink.

"Housemate! He's a housemate!" I quickly said.

"Bullshit, I know your type." Veronica pointed at me with one of the bottles of wine, and Grimmjow seemed to perk up while looking at me. "Every one of your partners has been a hardass that's actually a softie. Look at him- Broad, beautiful, muscular, and wearing make-up." She gestured to the markings under his eyes.

"Veronica, chill. He's really just a housemate." Daniel laughed while taking one of the bottles from her to set it in the cooler.

"Yeah, Veronica. And he's definitely not my type. Not even the same species." I grumbled.

"Oh, Hun, that's harsh."

"He's missing the 'softie' part." Gary stated. "Trust me."

"I see how it is. Boo, are you an asshole?" Veronica had a playful tone while leaning on Grimmjow.

"....Yeah."

"Oh! And he's honest? Gotta admire that much." She laughed while handing Daniel the other bottle. "Don't worry about that too much, Boo. We got some spots to fill in this medley." Veronica pat his shoulder since she was trying to being friendly with the demon, but it looked like it was actually irritating him.

"So how do you know Wynter?" Alex questioned.

"I'm a friend of her late uncle's."

"You knew Jordan? Good guy." Judy stated, and the 'good guy' comment made Grimmjow's eye twitch again. He was really holding himself back in this crowd....

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"Thanks. For not totally fucking up today, I mean." I said while running my fingers through Grimmjow's long hair. After everyone had left with Ichigo and Alex being the designated drivers, the 'really nice thing' Grimmjow got was cuddling.

I guess it wasn't too surprising the demon quite enjoyed the warmth of the contact.

We were sprawled out on the couch with the TV on, and the demon was halfway laying on me while purring as I pet him. Grimmjow had his head resting on my chest so that he could also watch TV, and Dagur was curled up on the floor right in front of the couch.

"Are you drunk?"

"No. Ass. I'm trying to thank you." The demon then lifted his head and sniffed at my face. "The Hell are you doing?"

"You're definitely buzzed. I can smell it on your breath."

"Forget it." I rolled my eyes and looked back at the TV. "Next time, I just won't thank you for shit."

"Like I care." Grimmjow scoffed before laying his head back down. "I don't, just to be clear."

"Right." I rubbed behind his ear ad felt the vibration of his purr like a low motor. "So then....do you want to actually tell me about the scar now since I know where it came from?"

"We fought, nearly killed each other, survived, that's it."

"Okay, but it's fucking huge."

"The bastard's demon half is Arrancar. Mix that with exorcist abilities and magick....he's on level with an Espada."

"At least up to the sixth if you both lost like that."

"Who said I fucking lost?"

"He's still alive. You're still alive. Doesn't look like a victory on either end." I stated. "Can he shape-shift like you do?"

"Yes. ....Why are you so damn curious about Kurosaki?"

"I need to know what I'm dealing with if he gets in the way of my plans. I told you, I'm sending your ass to Hell or killing you. Mr. Savior Complex isn't gonna come swoop in and steal that."

"Aw, Little Rabbit. Have you marked me as your prey?" Grimmjow chuckled before licking my cheek. "How sweet."

"Why do you have to be gross?!" I snarled while grabbing him by the horns to push his face away from mine. He was laughing as those pearly fangs of his were flashing around. "What the Hell is so funny?"

"You." He looked down at me and licked his lips. "So smart, but so stupid. I didn't think you had that kind of ego to not just let a more experienced exorcist try to get rid of me, Little Rabbit." Grimmjow then brought his face closer to mine. "Or is it because you actually want me here?"

"You do have your uses, I'll admit, but no. I just want to do this myself. Call it a vendetta."

"A vendetta? How sweet of you to hold a grudge against me."

"You won't think it's sweet when I'm locking your ass in Hell."

"Do you really think you'll ever be able to?" Grimmjow smirked with amusement in his eyes. "Not even Kurosaki could kill me, your uncle couldn't even fully seal me, and you? You're just a little rabbit that can barely swing a sword." He slowly wrapped his hand around my throat. "You go on and on about how you have the time to learn, but do you honestly believe that? Your pulse is already racing, and I haven't even done anything."

I managed to swallow while those blue eyes were locked on me, and his grip slightly tightened.

"You know I could end you so easily. You like to play with danger, don't you, Little Rabbit?"

"I'm not 'playing' with anything."

"Well....I certainly am." He then pat my cheek before laughing.

#Feral Possession #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #oc x canon #bleach #bleach fanfic #demon/exorcist au #bleach au #nonbinary character #orange #minors dni #Wolf does fanfic

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jamieroxxartist · 2 years

Photo

Oh Man! I'm not good for heavy labor I have to wear a brace and really watch myself (due to health stuff) anyhow though, sometimes a deal is too good to pass up. Some neighbors of ours about a block down-the-way did some major tree trimming and had about 3/4 of face cord of wood out for the bulk pick up. And we have a big fire pit lol So this morning I got all braced-up and grabbed my trusty wheelbarrow and made a few trips. The cut wood is now all stacked and tarp-covered and waiting for next season, where we will have a job for it. Better than rotting away in a landfill, I say. Here's a pic from Halloween hijinks (Julie, Nelly and everyone were running around the pit, celebrating) this past October. Like I said, our firepit is big! lol

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yanderemommabean · 2 years

Note

(I saw the Yandere Summoning post and was ~inspired~ A bit long, but I do love my build-ups! Edited version so hopefully I haven't missed anything again.)

How had things turned out like this? You don’t even like the spooky stuff! You hate horror movies, not because you think they’re bad, they just scare you too easily! So taking part in this stupid ritual your friends had cooked up should have had you running for the hills! You had only stuck around to help them figure out the symbolism of the objects they wanted to choose. That was supposed to be it! End of!

But then Pete had started to get spooked, what with the summoning circle made of actual blood- Stuey had some pigs blood that he was going to mix with bait to catch some feral cats in the area, and for fishing apparently. And Lucy had begged you to add something. You still had some swords and stuff in your car from a renaissance fair and since they were using real blood you decided, why not real swords? So you grabbed two and threw on some chains and feathered necklaces that you had bought for yourself, and gifts for others, and then a few other bits and pieces because, hell, why not go the whole nine yards?

So you held Pete’s hand and said the words, and screamed a bit when the candles went out, and the wind howling was definitely freaky, and you had wanted to run out of the room. The hairs on the back of your neck rising and goosebumps everywhere and shivers running up and down your back. Even Lucy and Eden had huddled close as Pete practically climbed into your arms. The ritual finished and everything died down, and someone turned the lights back on. As you wrangled control of your heart-rate, and looked about as you gently put Pete back on his feet.

Nothing had changed, and everyone began to laugh and joke. You rubbed the back of your neck to try and shake the feeling that something was off. You were just spooked, paranoid, and running on fear-induced adrenaline. You’re fine. Your friends are fine. Everything is fine.

You shook your head and headed upstairs to grab some marshmallows and a lighter, deciding to take advantage of everyone's distraction to get yourself a few extra treats before they wandered up and Eden tried to shove a whole bag of giant marshmallows in their mouth again.

You and your friends weren’t the only group here, it’s a popular camping area with a lot of oldey-cabins for big and small groups. Schools, conservationists, holiday-goers, campers, need-a-place-to-stay-after-the-renaissance-fair-goers, and it was even better because this cabin was close to the water and the boat house, and renting had included use of the two in there. You all decided to make a vacation of it, go to the fair and then relax at the cabin for a few days before heading home. It was a larger group than you’re used to, friends and partners and workmates tagging along, with more the merrier and everyone pitching in. So the extra peace was much needed.

As you stacked the wood in the firepit and got it ready to burn, your ears pricked at the sound of whooshing air. Looking up and around trying to spy a bird or something, hopefully one you haven’t accidentally pissed off somehow, you saw nothing but shadows and starlight.

“They owe me a billion muffins for this.” You muttered as you lit the firepit. Sitting back on one of the camper chairs and began the process of roasting sweet fluffy marshmallows, just to the point of them being completely on fire and only blowing it out once they’re completely charred on the outside. The rest of the night goes normally, and once the sugar high dies down, you stumble to your bed to fall asleep as the rest of them either linger or wander to their own bunks. When morning rolls around, you stumble downstairs and shamble to the coffee. Some are already down, and you have no idea how, but good for them. Others start making their way down, and you hum a greeting, not yet capable of actual words.

Throughout breakfast, you can’t help but glance out the windows. Every now and then you swear you see something out of the corner of your eye, or something in the treeline in the distance, or hear a particularly loud splash from the water. A few of your friends look around from where they sit, also feeling a little on edge. Something… doesn’t feel quite right. You all do your best to ignore it, but you have a niggling. If everyone is feeling this, is it paranoia?

After everything is washed, and you all sort out what you want to do, everyone starts to wander off in groups. As you exit the backdoor, you notice that it won’t close properly, and keeps creaking open.

“Hey, Pete, did things get rowdy after I left last night?”

“Not really, why?” He stands next to you as you show him the door, and starts to fiddle with the lock. It won’t click shut, and even when it does, a few shakes of the door make it click back to ‘unlocked’.

“Well, people did get a little drunk. Maybe they were a bit clumsy with the door? It’s probably old and a few heavy handed idiots were its last straw.” You speak up, not all that convinced, but you still send a text to the group chat letting them know that the door is fucked. You and Pete wedge it shut with a piece of wood, at least to keep any critters from sneaking in, and head to catch up with Lucy who went to the boathouse to get the fishing gear.

The three of you have fun, picking a spot a fair distance away so you can all have some peace and quiet and maybe even catch something for dinner. You know Stuey can work miracles with fresh ingredients. There were a few spooks, though, when you felt watched and kept looking over your shoulder, and all three of you heard that ‘whooshing’ sound again but when you looked around there was nothing. Hearing the snaps of branches had you all jumping to your feet, you brandishing your walking stick and Lucy grabbing a knife while Pete hid behind you two. Pete isn’t a fighter, too soft and sweet, and frankly since he’s the one who went to med-school, you want to keep him safe so he can patch you up later.

You decide to go to the treeline, at least, like an idiot in the horror movies that you refuse to watch who dies first. You’re gonna die because you’re an idiot who needs to make sure your friends at least have the chance to run if something jumps out to eat you-

You freeze at a larger black shape, and it takes exactly 0.2 seconds for your brain to tell you it’s a bear. You quickly turn to your group, and gesture to your gear.

“It’s a bear, I think. Time to pack up and head back.” You say in a harsh whisper. You had heard black bears aren’t too dangerous if you leave them alone, but you aren’t taking the chance. Not with how off you feel. Besides, it’s getting towards the afternoon, and with any luck there’ll be some leftover lunch-stuff, or just beg Stuey to make something for them.

The trip back was a bit rushed, but by the time you all got back you were all relaxed and joking about it. You really, really hoped what you saw was a bear.

By the time everything was put away and you were hauling your catch into the kitchen, you felt the mood drop again as you saw one of the other members of the big group walk into the space, looking relieved at the sight of the three of you.

“Oh thank god, we couldn’t get a hold of you guys.”

“We went out fishing, remember? Probably went outside of cell-phone range, this place is pretty hilly” He nodded at Lucy’s reply, and he began to wring his hands.

“Look, this is gonna sound really bad, but we’re trying not to accuse anyone of anything- it’s just. Ugh,” He shook his head, and took a deep breath, “Did any of you go near the cars this morning? Or notice anything weird?”

The three of you exchanged looks, and a feeling of foreboding filled the room. “No. Guys?”

They both echoed your reply, confusion and concern obvious on their faces.

“Ah, shit.” The other guy said, Matt you think his name was.

“What happened to the cars?”

“What didn’t happen to them?” Matt laughed a little, but it sounded strained even to your ears, “Some had punctured tired, others had their steering wheels and wires messed with, some won’t even start, or had the car batteries stolen. One actually had the whole engine removed. At this point we’re trying to mix and match to try and get one car working, but most even got their spare tires messed with, and with so many odd wheel sizes we probably won’t be able to get far anyways.”

During all this, you felt another niggling in the back of your brain. Along with budding panic, but you pushed that aside. Absently grabbing Pete’s hand as you pulled out your phone with your free one, letting Lucy take over the conversation.

No messages. No updates. No signal.

That’s not right. You should at least have a signal in the cabine. You don’t even have the internet right now. No wifi. No nothing.

“There’s no signal, and I’m not getting the internet.” You try to turn your data on, but nothing changes. “Data’s fucked too. Any luck?” The others scramble to get their phones out and check. Within a few seconds Matt is cursing, and runs out to the group outside. Lucy heads to one of the computers, and there’s a slight cheer a minute later.

“We still have a landline!” She called out, tapping away on the computer.

“Send a report to the guys who run this place, or whoever. And a police report.”

“Is that necessary?” Pete asked, looking at you. You grimace, but nod.

“Remember the RP games we play? What do we do when there’s a particularly well-entrenched, heavily fortified enemy base?”

Pete’s eyes widened at that. “We poke holes in their defences, then go for one big strike before they notice or can do anything about it. Then everything falls like dominoes.” He recited, shaking. You hold him, and look around the kitchen. This is a big cabin- hell it’s more a lodge or a holiday house, there are plenty of ways to get in, and more places to hide.

“Lucy!” You call, heading her way and transferring the shaking Pete to her, “I’m calling a group meeting, keep at the computer.” And with that, head outside to the group of arguing adults. You head to your car, and start pulling out weapons.

Stopping on the way back inside, you nudge Stuey with your foot. They look your way and frowned at the sight of you, before turning to the group and letting loose a loud whistle. Everyone quietens down, and with a cheery grin you jerk your head back to the house.

“Meeting inside in thirty seconds, can you make sure the rest of the group attend?” And turn to march with a bundle of weapons and armour. Will it help? Probably not. But it makes you feel better. As you set everything down, Lucy walks in with a grim look, before you can ask she shakes her head. Looks like the landline had been taken out, then. Fuck.

It actually takes a little over a minute, but everyone in the house is crowded in the large living room, people sitting on every available surface to help make room, and also because it’s free sitting space. You’re sitting on one of the large window sills, which is pretty high off the ground actually. You make quick work of laying out the happenings during the day, and the paranoia you felt, the feeling of being watched, the broken door, the fucked up internet, the phone lines -which are not connected to the landline, evidently- and now the cars. You ask if anyone noticed anything else.

Hands go up, and one by one people add to it. Missing items, windows with locks removed, doors in a similar state, someone even mentioned that the motorboat in the boathouse wouldn’t turn on, despite it working fine yesterday.

“What is this, a sick prank?” Stuey asked, a scowl on their face. Their car had been gutted, you remember.

“Could it be one of our neighbours?” Someone asks, and you cross your arms, leaning your shoulder on the window frame and look over your shoulder to the outside. You could see both forest and water, and the nearest house could barely be spotted. Each one was pretty far away, for privacy and noise and all that. There’s very little chance even the nearest house could hear them even if they had a full blown party, so the odds of them doing this because they’re a bunch of pissed off holidayers is unlikely. More likely that they’re just assholes, but honestly you didn’t even know if anyone was staying at the closest houses, and if they were why would they spend so much time and effort to do all this?

“Maybe, maybe not. We got a few hours before nightfall, but trying to hike our way to the nearest town will take most of a day, and I don’t want to risk whoever is fucking with us to catch us in the dark. Any volunteers to head to the nearest houses? Maybe they’re having similar problems, and if not… well. If the place is empty we can probably go to those places instead of staying here with all the broken locks and shit.” You run your hand through your hair, pushing away the building panic in your head. Jesus, what were you even doing?

Stuey organises two teams of three to head in opposite directions of the shoreline, Pete mentions that they have a generator and battery, so the house should be okay for power, but he still heads out to make sure it hasn’t been sabotaged either. Some others talk about the boat, and head out to see if they can’t figure out a way to fix it.

Lucy is grabbing your hand, squeezing it in comfort, before heading upstairs to start barricading windows and doors with the last of the group. Stuey heads to the kitchen to cook up a feast, joking that if it’s gonna be their last meal, might as well make it good.

You drop from the window, wringing your hands and wiping them on your thighs, feeling restless but unsure what to do. Looking down at the weapons you gathered, you head outside to grab whatever else is in the cars.

When you step outside, however, hairs rise on the back of your neck and you immediately throw yourself back and slam the door closed. You hear that ‘whooshing’ sound again and you’re gasping for breath. What the fuck was that? Pressing your back to the door, clutching at your chest. Hands at your shoulders make you lash out, slapping them away and trying to stand but your eyes cloud over as the world tilts.

You’re lowered gently to the floor instead of dropping, knees tucked underneath you, and you look up to see Stuey staring at you with concern. They’re saying something, but you can’t- it’s not- you can’t. They make you stare at their chest, a hand on their sternum, exaggerated, slow breaths, further emphasised by the movement of their hand, and you get the idea. Breathe. Breathe.

You follow the rhythm, and eventually find yourself back in your body. Sitting back, you lean against the door and nod.

“Sorry. I stepped outside and…” They nodded, no judgement, before standing and checking the windows.

“Don’t see anything. Maybe a good idea- did you leave your door open?” They ask, and you scramble to look out the window. Your car side door, and the back, are wide open. With a curse, you rush out the door and to the cars. Risky and stupid? Yes. But you need to know.

When you look inside, you’re cursing up a storm. From car to car you check, and by the time you head back inside you’re fighting the urge to destroy something.

“Fuckers stole everything! Our gear, weapons, even our damn banner!” You spit, sitting heavily at the kitchen counter where Stuey had retreated after the first bout of swears.

“So, that’s all we have?” They nodded to the lounge room. Half a dozen swords, two unstrung bows, the top half of some armour, and a few arrows. That’s not enough, but it’s better than nothing.

You nod as Stuey puts a steaming mug in front of you. You sip it only because you need something to do, and you can’t down it like a shot. That would hurt like a bitch. You decide to help in the kitchen, cutting and stirring, whisking and whatever else was needed. It was something to do, and was better than just sitting there, waiting for the others to come back or for something else to go wrong.

One group comes back, and says that there was no one at the house, but it looked in a similar condition to theirs, if not worse. Another thirty minutes go by, and the other group is running through the door, looking sick and pale.

“The other- fuck! The people there, they were…” They try to speak, bent over and gasping for breath. “They’re dead! Shit! It was… god, there was so much blood every-everywhere. I- I think someone's arm was on the fan, jesus. I can’t-” They quickly stumbled to a bin and began heaving, shaking and sobbing.

“Well. Fuck.” You say quietly, feeling cold seep into you. “Right. Okay.” You grab a glass and fill it with water, and some crackers. Setting them aside, you kneel to comfort them. You weren’t super close, but still friends, and you hated seeing them like this.

Water and snacks later, you send them up to rest. And go report the news to the others. The boat is a lost cause, and while the electricity is working, the whole access panel is outside and tucked away somewhere that is full of corners and shadows. Why it isn’t in the garage or anything is beyond you, but you don’t dwell on it. You fit one of the guys with the armour, as they know how to move in it best. Others grab the swords, string the bows and share the arrows, while everyone else grabs knives, screwdrivers, whatever they can. Come daylight, they’ll make a break for it.

Night falls, everyone enjoys their meal in relative silence. It’s mostly defiance for you. You’re not letting these sick fucks ruin a good meal, and you talk about the duel that Pete won at the fair, and how the other guy had been such a dick before the match. The others, thankfully, joined in. Some stayed quiet, but listened. Some headed off rest as soon as dinner wrapped up, others lingered, or wandered throughout the house to man their posts.

The house was big, so they had taken the mattresses down to the living room and created a large sleeping area and blocked off the top floor entirely as best they could. Whatever rooms they didn’t need were also blocked off, essentially giving them only the kitchen, bathroom, entryway and lounge room to guard, everyone paired was put in groups of two or three, no one was to be left alone. One half of the group would be on watch for half the night, then would begin to rotate out for the other half. You had opted for the first shift, figuring you wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways, and hopefully by the end you’d be tired enough to fall asleep at least for an hour or two.

It began half an hour before rotation was scheduled, when there was noise above them. A heavy ‘thump’. Then sounds outside, movement, and then a howl of all things! Long and low and loud. It sent shivers down your spine, and you gripped your sword.

A knock had you stifling a scream, and you were glad you weren’t the only one who let out a scared sound, as you turned to the door. You stared at the door, uncomprehending, as another light set of knocks echoed through the house. A nudge had her turning, and Lucy nodded to the door, then the stairs. You nodded in reply, and got the attention of another pair. You gestured to the stairs, and they gave shaky nods. Moving up with slow, quiet steps, until they were out of sight.

You stepped towards the door, then froze. More knocking, still polite and light, and you took more. Step, breathe, step, breathe. That’s how you got to the door. Without really knowing what to do, unable to bring yourself to speak, and not insane enough to actually open the door, you knock back. Thrice. Quick and clear.

“He-hello?” Pete spoke up, barely a wisp of a noise, and he cleared his throat before speaking louder, “Hello?” He was shaking like a leaf, and his voice was weak but could be heard clearly. Better than what you could do.

“Is there a Lucy present? I received a report about some kind of disturbance?” There was a melodic voice, muffled from the door, that reached them. It was foriegn, unfamiliar, and despite its soothing tone it made you tense up.

You held up a hand before Lucy could open her mouth, “That depends,” You say, stepping up to the door and bracing it slightly, your hunting sword clasped in one hand while the other pressed to the door by the handle. “Who are you?”

“Oh, where are my manners? You may call me Theophania, may I have yours?” The voice was sweet, cool and light and you didn’t trust it one bit. Plus, that bit about ‘may I have yours’ made something in you lurch uncomfortably. You remember all those stories about how names have power, and giving your name gives others power over you.

“You may not have my name, but you may call me Alex.” There. Neutral, polite, and vague enough to limit clues on your identity. You don’t know how much this… person might know, but you don’t want to risk giving them more than they may already have.

“Ooh, clever. I can see why they like you. I understand you are likely a friend of hers, and are only trying to protect her and each other. I can’t fault you for that, in fact I find it commendable. Trying to protect each other, but there’s nothing to fear. We’re here now. I promise you no harm will come to dear Lucy, that’s the last thing I want. So, won’t you send her out, please?”

You mind whirled with questions, but you bit them back and took a deep breath. “You’ve given me a name, but you haven’t told me who you are, only what you’re after. Why her?” And what will happen to the rest of us?

“Would you believe me if I said I’m here to help? Lucy, mostly, but the rest of you as well? None of these people I particularly wish to make enemies of, you know?”

“No, I’m afraid I wouldn’t believe you. You mentioned a report, but the internet cut before it could be sent.” You paused as terror gripped you. “What do you mean, ‘these people’? How many of you are there?”

“Oh, darling, there’s only one of me. But the rest of us?” There was a chuckle, “Looks like you’re about to meet some of them, don’t hold their impatience against them, they’re just eager is all.”

You turned, and saw red eyes fill one of the windows on the far side of the house and everyone was currently focused on the front door!

“Behind-!” Glass shattered, and there was screaming and crashing and running. Between one blink and the next, you were running into the woods. Weapon lost -you had thrown it at something that lept for Pete- and both hands dragging your friends along. You should have all taken your chance with heading for town when you had the chance, now you had to hope that everyone and everything had converged on the house, and that the shadows of the forest would give you enough cover to escape.

The house was mostly out of sight when the ground shifted under them, breaking through dirt and stone. Large roots were upheaved causing them to stumble and fall. By the time you stood, something rope-like came from the darkness to wrap around Lucy. You saw her wide, terrified eyes, saw her reach for you, before she was pulled away screaming, too fast for you to follow and within seconds she vanished. You couldn’t even hear her screams. Or had they been cut off? Was she dead?

You moved to Pete, and forced him to stand and pushed him to keep running. Tears blurred your vision but you didn’t care. Lucy was lost, you had to take care of Pete.

“No! No! What about Lucy? We have to go back for her!”

“I know! But we can’t! We-” You bit back a sob, refusing to break right now, “We don’t know where she was taken, or how many there are, or if she’s even-”

“Don’t say it!” Pete sobbed as he took stumbling steps to where Lucy had gone. You followed a few feet behind. “We have to make sure! We have to save her. She would do the same for us, you know she would!”

“She would have thrown you over your shoulder and started running as fast as she could.” You shot back, but there was no heat, only fear and panic and worry and not wanting to lose another friend. “They may keep her alive for a while, they wouldn’t put so much effort to just kill everyone. If we run for town we might be able to get help, that’ll give her- give everyone a better chance.” You don’t know that. You’re basically lying through your teeth. You hope but daren’t believe. Pete is shaking his head.

“You go. I won’t leave!” He turned and bolted, and you cursed. Pete was a fast little shit when he wanted to be, and you shot after him.

You don’t make it far before you hear a howl, only this one is much, much closer. Skidding to a halt, you call for Pete, only to see a huge dark shape descend upon him. It’s horrifyingly familiar as you see bright eyes and glinting teeth but it’s not a bear but it’s not anything you’ve seen except- except- except.

Pete is thrashing and screaming, the beast is growling and you swear you hear it whining as it bundles up its prize. You make it a single step before it leaps into the trees, vanishing into the darkness like Lucy, though Pete’s screams echo for a lot longer. Your hand is up, halfway to reaching for him.

That. Was that a… you can’t bring yourself to admit it. But still. It looked like a werewolf. And it took Pete. Sweet, gentle, Pete who was braver and stronger than most gave him credit for. And Lucy, supportive and kind and fiery in her own way.

You choke as you realise you left Stuey behind. He had been behind you, you think. Running for the back door, and had only taken a few steps before something grabbed him and then… then just vanished. Glowing red eyes and a hissing noise and Stuey’s broken cry for them to run- dear god. Had that been a vampire?

And- and the one at the door. The way they talked. Fairy? Fae? Something? Oh god. What was happening. These things weren’t real. Shouldn’t be real. Couldn’t be real. Yet. And yet.

You stood in the middle of the forest, it was eerily quiet. Except for your own breathing. Christ. You needed to breathe, slowly, and calm down. Just, calm down. You can do this. You can make it to town. Tell someone, anyone, though omit some details. You would be labelled insane. Maybe you were. Still.

You turned, and began to jog through the woods. There a bunch of roads around here, if you kept going you could find one, and that would lead you to the main road and you could head to town and-

A familiar sound of something cutting through wind reached her, and before she could even slow down something dropped from the canopy -the sky- directly into her path. Dark wings attached to a large, humanoid shape. Eyes glowing a menacing violet in the darkness. You slid to a quick stop, it was several metres away, so you couldn’t see any real details besides the shape and the eyes. It was just… standing there. Staring at you.

You turn to run the other way, when another body dropped from the heavens, it’s landing lighter than its fellow, but no less powerful or foreboding. This one had wings as well, but these ones glowed in the low moonlight, and as it stood and raised its head to look at you, you saw piercing blue eyes that seemed to be burning with their own light.

You step back, but hit something before you can turn. There wasn’t anything behind you before. You feel your heart stutter when warm arms wrap around your waist, pinning your arms to your side before you can begin to struggle.

“Shh… Shh… you’re okay. You’re safe now.” A voice whispered, masculine and low and, in any other situation would have been incredibly soothing. However, it currently only terrifies you more.

“No! No! Get off! Let me go, please!” But their -his- grip only tightens, and his face burrows into the side of your neck. You feel more than hear him inhale, and he shudders. His wings flaring and ruffling in the corner of your eye.

“Don’t be afraid.” Warm, almost burning, hands cup your cheeks and turn your face up. You’re forced to stare into bright, burning blue eyes set in a handsome face. He smiles down at you, but you can’t tell much else in the darkness. “We would never hurt you. We’re sorry it took so long to find you, you must have been so scared.” His tone is reverent and regretful all at once.

“Those fools were meant to help us, but of course they took their chance to grab what they wanted and leave.” The other spoke, irritated, retreating from your neck enough to kiss along your temple, before resting his cheek against your hair, “Though I can’t blame them, I would’ve done the same.”

“The others-? My friends! Please, are they okay?” You speak through your terror, struggling a little. You know it’s futile, you’re exhausted and they’re clearly stronger than you. Still, you try. You have to try.

“They’re safe, my love, you needn’t worry. They’ve likely never been better.” The one in front of you speaks, voice light and soft, but you’d be an idiot to miss the power there as well. As though what he spoke was written as truth never to be contested.

“What’s going on? Why did you…?” You couldn’t bring it to say it. Nor how to say it. What exactly were they doing besides traumatising you right now?

“Don’t you remember?” The light one asks, sounding surprised and hurt. “You called us here, you brought us out of our hell, imprisoned and separated. Perhaps we’ve been forgiven for our transgressions, but I will not question this blessing.” His hands began to wander, trailing along your neck and collarbone, up and down your arms, any exposed skin that he can reach.

“Who would have thought, after all those centuries of being deprived of everything, we would be rewarded with our missing piece? Our perfect match, the miracle that saved us.” The dark one rambled on, delighted and sounding a little delirious. “Oh, we’re going to love you so much. Just give us some time, love, we’ll have everything set up and perfect.”

“What set up?” You’re scared to ask, but you need to know.

They both laugh lightly at that, and you feel warm lips on your forehead and another set on the back of your neck. One of your hands is taken, practically swallowed by the larger beings.

“Our home, of course. You’re new home.” They spoke. There was more touching, more petting, and you tried to wiggle away but their holds were unyielding. They didn’t seem to notice.

“It needs a little work, but our friends have been taking care of it for us. Please be patient with us, and once we’re done, we’ll show you how thankful we are.�� The light one pulled away enough to pick you up bridal style, the dark one dropping his arms to allow it. You wanted to fight, but fear and exhaustion kept you still as much as their own strength did.

“We’ll take good care of you. We love you so much. You’ll love your new life with us, I promise.” Knuckles caressed your cheek, and you looked into violet eyes, feeling sleep tug at you. You didn’t fight it. It was all too much and you didn’t want to deal with all this at once. You think maybe you were in shock. You let your eyes slip close, her head resting against a warm shoulder, and drifted away into blissful unconsciousness.

“We promise.”

(Done! Hope y'all enjoyed the read!)

Well done bean! 100/10!

-Mommabean

#Bean fics #mommabean #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #bean creations

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sanisse · 2 years

Note

May I request camping fluff with Caranthir with his edain s/o (fem), maybe a little spicy near the end (if you don't mind ofcourse)

ahhh yes <3 I love Caranthir! Thank you for the request. I hope you like your fic.

Atop the Soft Green Earth | Caranthir x Fem!Reader

Spice Level (1-5): 🌶🌶 (mild)

Pairing: Caranthir/Fem Human!Reader

Warnings/tags: No warnings! This is mostly fluff with some grinding, fingering, and a bit of clothed sex near the end.

Minors DNI - your media consumption is your own responsibility.

“What are you working on?” you ask, looking over your shoulder where you’re stacking up wood and kindling in the newly made firepit. Caranthir is seated crosslegged on the grass, notebook open in his lap, sketching.

He doesn’t answer you.

A fond smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. You get the fire going and then get up, dusting your knees off and crossing the clearing to crouch next to him and turn your attention to the notebook.

It’s a map. You can see the snaking river which he seems to have painstakingly matched bend for bend, the hillock the two of you had passed a quarter-mile back, and the mountain that looms in the northward distance. All sketched with upmost skill, laid out in mathematical precision.

“Come eat,” you say.

“You only just got the fire going,” Caranthir replies absently.

“I thought you weren’t paying attention?”

“I am always paying attention,” he says in that same tone, though it carries a hint of annoyance.

You give one of his dark braids a fond tug, to which he swats at you, but there’s a twinkle of mirth in his eyes that tells you he’s not cross. After that, you leave him to his map and set about gutting the fish the two of you had caught that afternoon, filleting them, and setting them up to grill over the fire. Some of the coals you rake out to bury two potatoes in so they can bake.

Caranthir really is paying attention, because once you’re done he sets his notebook aside to let the ink dry and then comes over to help you clean up, then takes a seat with you by the fire.

You lean your head on his shoulder and Caranthir rests his cheek on top of your head, and the pair of you sit in some time in the comfortable silence that passes between you while the fish sizzles and the fire hisses and pops. The sky begins to blaze. The peach and fire-gold light reflects in Caranthir’s dark eyes and turns them the color of molten gold.

When the fish and potatoes are done, you eat together. Caranthir shares the wine he’s brought in his saddle flask. His spicy and sweet, and warms your throat on its way down to curl in your belly like a dragon.

One by one, the stars wink to life. The fire dies down. You poke at it and watch the sparks fly upward to join their glittering white counterparts.

“Tell me a tale,” Caranthir whispers softly as the pair of you sit there, tracing shapes in the night sky.

“What kind of a tale?” you ask.

“A love story,” he replies. There’s something wistful in it.

You lift your head from his shoulder and look up at him. “The Elves have so many, though!”

“I would like to hear something new,” he says, turning to face you.

You have to think for a moment. Eventually, you come up with the story: a king treacherously murdered by his brother, who cut him to pieces -- a king whose life loved him so dearly that she gathered all those scattered pieces and threw them into the sky, where he was born anew and hung there now, eternally, as a god.

“Did she ever get to see him again?” Caranthir asks.

You rest your head on his shoulder again and point up to a particular constellation. “Yes. That’s him there. And that,” you trace across the sky eastward, “Is his wife. The gods took pity on her in her grief and made her a goddess, so she could join her husband and they would never again be parted from each other.”

“Romantic,” he murmurs.

“Mm, and deliciously sad,” you agree.

Caranthir leans forward to stir the coals a bit more. A few flames come to life and lick at the air, and just as quickly fade. The fire spins long shadows in the trees that might look eerie on any other night, but here with Caranthir you feel perfectly safe.

He rests his hand on your thigh. You turn to kiss him.

It’s soft, chaste. Caranthir’s mouth is warm against yours. He lets out a little sigh and nips at your bottom lip, then pulls you over to straddle his hips. You wrap your arms around his neck, hooking your chin over his shoulder, flattening your body along the long, flat planes of his until you can feel his heartbeat against your own.

Caranthir is quiet. He simply holds you, idly tracing the curve of your spine. Then, he nips at your neck and soothes the bite with a kiss that has you melting against him with a breathy sigh.

“You’re not tired from the ride?” he asks in your ear.

“Not really,” you say. You are tired, but not so tired that you’d rather just go to bed for the night. To prove it, you roll your hips, grinding down into him. Caranthir groans, his hand tightening around your waist. He bites your neck again, and that pulls a whimper out of you, makes heat pool between your legs, makes you rock your hips into his growing length. It catches against your clit and feels so good.

Soon the little clearing is full with Caranthir’s low hitches of breath and your own soft whimpers. He curls his fingers around your hips and tugs, encouraging you as you grind down on him until he’s rock hard beneath you and there’s a wet spot where you’re leaking into your riding trousers. The night has cooled, raising gooseflesh over your skin, but you hardly feel it.

Caranthir kisses a line along your jaw, then captures your mouth as he adjusts his grip so he can slip a hand into your trousers. The second he finds how wet you are, both of you moan.

“Soaked, are we?” he whispers.

“Fuck me?” you breathe against his mouth.

Caranthir pushes two fingers inside of you without preamble. You clutch at his shoulder and cry out. He curls them, pumps them in, out, in-- at an almost punishing pace until your thighs are shaking and you’re coming all over his hand.

You shove his fingers away the second you come back to your senses and sit back on your haunches long enough to shuck yourself out of your riding trousers, yank open his belt buckle, unlace his trousers, and pull out his cock. It’s hot and pulsing in your hands. Caranthir hisses and bucks up into your touch. You shove him, pushing him down to the grass, and climb on.

Caranthir swears, lets his head fall back against the grass, and lets you ride him.

By the end of it, you’ve come again twice, and he bursts inside you with a sharp cry that you swallow in a kiss. He’s unable to hold still during it, pounding up into you, holding you in place with a grip on your hips that’s hard enough to bruise and you love it.

The two of you curl up together afterward in your bedroll. Caranthir runs his hands through your hair, traces the curve of your spine, admires the bruises he’s left on your hips, and lets you sleep.

#caranthir #spicy #caranthir x reader #caranthir x you #lotr x reader #lotr x you

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delimeful · 2 years

Text

helpless (5)

warnings: tension, arguing, mild violence, mentions of drowning and murder, spider

For the record, Virgil was very unhappy about the current situation.

Admittedly, he wasn’t sad to leave the village behind. Patton had been miserable there, and the people there seemed to have a grudge the size of a mountain, despite the fact that he’d been very careful to never do anything worse than scare someone out of his woods.

And they were his woods! He’d cleared out an old cave system, settled into the local ecosystem without overhunting, and fought hard to counter any claims other supernatural denizens wanted to lay. He’d made himself troublesome enough that the prime patch of land remained under his care. He was pretty sure he’d actually prevented some actual maneater types from settling anywhere near the village, even!

What did he get in return? Hostilities so high that his humans had used them to talk him around to the idea of abandoning his home for the past several years, despite his defining character trait of loathing sudden changes in his life.

Logan’s unrelenting debate points about bounties and Patton’s unbridled enthusiasm about moving may have swayed him to agree, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

In fact, the further they got into Logan’s plan, the more he disliked it. They traveled mostly in daylight because of humans’ abysmal night vision, Virgil had to stealth along in the trees alongside the common path to avoid terrifying other travelers, and for some reason, Logan had invited the bounty hunter that had kicked off this entire mess to protect them.

It was a little insulting. Was he not good enough to keep them safe? Was a venomous spider monster larger than a horse somehow less effective at scaring off enemies than an air-headed noisy human that barely knew how to swing a sword? Virgil had already defeated him once whilst wildly unprepared, what else was there to prove?

That wasn’t to say that he didn’t still feel guilty about biting him. He definitely still felt bad about that. He’d had a fear-biting problem in his younger years, leading to a fair few irritated colony members, but he thought he’d gotten over it. Of course, he hadn’t exactly interacted with very many people after striking out on his own. Maybe he’d just distanced himself from the issue rather than actually resolving it.

Whatever the case, he’d lashed out, and it hadn’t even been a dry bite. If it hadn’t been for Logan’s insane experiments proving that his venom wasn’t lethal in smaller amounts, Virgil probably would have lost his head to panic and tried to bury the bounty hunter’s body deep in the woods somewhere.

Instead, he was watching the guy walk alongside his humans, totally ignoring or even cheerily greeting any other travelers they passed as though he’d completely forgotten he’d been hired to protect them.

It wasn’t a much improved outcome, honestly. Especially with the bounty hunter’s reaction to him.

Living with Logan and Patton had ruined him. After years of isolation, he’d become accustomed to being seen as, if not a human, at least a person, and more importantly, a friend. Now, facing the hunter’s wary gaze and the way his hand dropped to the hilt of his sword when Virgil approached their camp for the night, he felt more stung than he had any right to.

“Virgil!” Patton cheered, as though he hadn’t seen him at their last break from walking only a few hours ago.

Grinning, the human abandoned his firepit stone stacking to run and leap at Virgil, who had already adjusted his stance to pluck him right out of the air. He sighed exasperatedly, but didn’t bother chiding him. Patton had only had to witness one of Logan’s ‘surprise reflex tests’ before enthusiastically joining the ranks of the only humans alive who would literally throw themselves at a drider’s mercy for fun.

“Hey, Pat. Tired of walking yet?” he asked, only half-joking as he checked him over. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that humans were built for such long distances, despite Logan’s informative lecture on the topic.

“Too excited to feel tired!” Patton said, which was definitely a fib going by how sore they appeared in the mornings. “Stop worrying! You’ve gotta have a positive mindset, not a negative mindfret.”

“What have I ever done to make you think I’m an optimist?” Virgil snarked back, but he didn’t smell pain or exhaustion, so he set Patton gently back down on his feet.

Glancing up showed that Logan was striking up a fire with his non-experimental matches, and the bounty hunter was… glaring at him. Of course he was. Virgil scowled back, his lip nearly twitching up into a sneer as the guy clutched at his sword the way a noblewoman might clutch at her pearls.

“I’m gonna set up a web over there,” he told Patton, gesturing vaguely to the thicker copse of trees to the right of the campsite. “Call if you or Lo need me?”

Patton paused and twisted back around to face him, frowning in concern. “You’re going to bed already? It’s barely nightfall!”

“That is a fairly strong deviation from your usual sleeping habits,” Logan added from where he’d seemingly teleported to his side. He held a hand out and Virgil set the end of one of his spider legs against his palm automatically. While Virgil’s spider half made Patton queasy, Logan was more than comfortable with it. “Are you suffering any ill effects from traveling? We could reduce our pace.”

Virgil huffed quietly, his lips quirking up into a little half-smile at their concern. “No, I’m fine, guys. Just want some space. I’ll just… be glad when we get there.” And the bounty hunter leaves, he didn’t add.

Logan nodded slowly, still examining Virgil’s legs for any wear or tear. “I understand. It’s perfectly normal to need time and space for oneself whilst dealing with stressful changes.”

Patton, however, wasn’t as easily placated. “You can sleep a little closer to camp, you know. We wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” He glanced pointedly between Virgil and the bounty hunter, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.

His human was promising his own form of protection. It was a heartwarming sentiment, if also a little funny. Virgil reached out and held Patton’s hand in his own for a moment.

“I know. Still, in the interest of making sure our tagalong gets his beauty sleep,” a mild eye roll, “I’m staying out of sight. I’ll be fine, okay?”

The two of them let him go with visible reluctance, and he was reminded that they, at least, didn’t think of him as a horrible monster.

It couldn’t stop him from noticing the way the bounty hunter’s shoulders loosened slightly the moment he faded into the shadows, but it was enough for him to ignore it.

–

Naturally, they couldn’t make it all the way there without some kind of disaster striking. Virgil: one, optimism: zero.

Really, he had only left for a handful of minutes, making a quick detour to the nearby stream for a drink, but when he got back, the party had fallen into chaos.

This was largely due to the trio of kelpies that were currently circling the bounty hunter like sharks that had smelled blood.

The only one visible before him was the bounty hunter, not a trace of his humans, and only the fact that he couldn’t see any blood kept him from storming the clearing with deadly intent. Even so, worry surged through him, his heart clenching painfully in his chest for a moment as he searched for them– or any signs that they’d been unwillingly dragged off to the nearest river.

A grunt from above, and Virgil’s gaze darted back over to the tree the bounty hunter had his back pressed to, tilting his head back to scan the branches.

To his relief, Logan was perched in the fork of one of the larger boughs, his hand outstretched to Patton, who was inching his way up the trunk only a few feet away.

Virgil took back all of his complaints about the bounty hunter’s presence, a sudden gratitude surging through him. Regardless of his vaguely hostile demeanor, if he was willing to put himself between his humans and danger like this, he was more than alright in Virgil’s book.

He was also about to get himself killed, which meant Virgil had wasted enough time processing the situation. It was time to move.

The kelpies scattered briefly as he charged into the clearing, low gurgling hisses emanating from them. Each one was shifted into their more humanoid form, with grey-green skin, razor sharp teeth, and an excess of waterweeds tangled in their dark hair. They were also on the smaller side, but between the three of them, they’d been doing an excellent job of keeping the bounty hunter on the defensive.

Though the kelpies didn't try to flee, Virgil’s arrival meant it was their turn to back off and regroup. Patton cheered from somewhere above, hilariously at odds with the tension that filled the clearing as everyone on the ground eyed the new, rather large addition to the fight with uncertainty.

“I hope you’re here to help,” the bounty hunter managed between heavy breaths, his shoulders slightly hunched. He’d overexerted himself with all the wild sword-swinging he’d done at the water dwellers. Seeing as kelpies were the agile sort, Virgil suspected his efforts had been less than fruitful. “I hate fighting these guys. Living proof that horses have the innate potential for evil, if you ask me.”

Virgil resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but movement in the corner of his vision caught his eye before he could respond.

Without hesitation, he lifted his front legs up and slammed them on the ground hard in a pointed warning. The largest kelpie, who had been slowly advancing back towards the bounty hunter, scrambled back with another distorted snarl. Virgil hissed right back.

The kelpies all looked highly displeased with his declaration of intent, but even with the odds now stacked against them, they refused to retreat. Strange.

“What did you do to piss them off?” he asked, shifting to the side to head off a smaller kelpie before it could circle around and attack his more vulnerable back.

“Me?” the bounty hunter asked, voice pitched high with offense. “They’re the ones who rushed us!”

“What, seriously?” Virgil risked a glance over his shoulder to check the bounty hunter’s irritated expression and found no trace of dishonesty. “That’s…”

“Unexceptional? Commonplace? Completely to be expected from monsters who drown and eat people?” the hunter sniped. Apparently, Virgil had prodded a sore spot by doubting him.

“I was going to say weird,” he replied flatly, and turned his attention back to studying the kelpies. “The nearest river is too far off for them to be comfortable hunting here. Maybe if someone had dumped garbage in the river recently and pissed them off, but they look healthy enough.”

“They look healthy?” Roman asked, and Virgil sent him an incredulous side eye.

“Shouldn’t you already know this stuff, bounty hunter?” he asked, absently shaking a kelpie off one of his legs before it could bite down.

“I’m an adventurer, Itsy Bitsy, and the name is Roman,” the adventurer retorted sharply.

Virgil blinked. He’d overheard as much from Patton and Logan’s conversations, but he hadn’t expected the guy to actually deign to introduce himself properly. Doing so mid-battle was admittedly a strange place for it, but Virgil had grown to understand that humans indulged in strangeness frequently by now.

Even if the cultural connotations of names weren’t the same for humans, it was still a courtesy he could return. It was the least Roman had earned for the stalwart defense of his friends.

“I’m Virgil,” he replied, holding a flat hand over his chest in one of the more polite drider greetings. Still, he couldn't quite resist adding, “Not Itsy Bitsy.”

“It’s a witty nickname!” Roman defended, waving his sword around for emphasis in a deeply unsafe manner. “You know, like the nursery rhyme–,”

“Hang on,” said Virgil, who had just watched one of the kelpies twitch forward with their eyes locked on Roman.

No, not Roman. Roman’s sword.

That certainly explained why they were all humanoid. Hooves didn’t make for good pickpocketing tools.

“Give me your dagger,” Virgil commanded, and then recalled the little he’d retained of his humans’ Human Etiquette lessons. “Please.”

“I feel like there are other, more effective tools at your disposal. Bitey ones, perhaps?” Roman replied, but after a moment of pointed silence, he tugged his dagger out and set it into Virgil’s awaiting hand.

Virgil unsheathed it, studying the blade for a moment. The hilt was ornate to the point of near gaudiness, but the metal was sharp. It would do.

Without any further fanfare, he tossed it to the kelpies. Roman yelped in a distinctly displeased way.

“For you,” Virgil said, as the two of the kelpies converged on the blade and nearly cracked their skulls together. The largest one watched him keenly for a moment before dipping its head and shifting fluidly into horse form.

With a garbled whinny, it called the others and led the way back into the treeline. Within moments, they had vanished back into the woods, taking the dagger with them.

When Virgil turned, Roman was staring between him and the place the kelpies had been with open astonishment. “How did you…?”

“They were younglings, well-fed ones,” Virgil replied with a shrug. He didn’t know much about humans, but he’d run into plenty of other monsters over the years. “The only reason they’d be this far out without supervision is if their guardian was incapacitated. Someone probably got a bridle on the adult, so they went to seek something sharp to free it with.”

It took Roman a moment to regain his composure, something like intrigue flashing in his gaze, but he quickly rekindled his indignance. “Don’t you have a knife?”

“My knife is high quality,” Virgil returned, a smirk finding its way to his lips. “Yours was not. Relax, I’ll get you another one.”

“How?” Roman asked despairingly, and Virgil shrugged rather than admit he knew a few dragons. “We’re just going to let them go?”

“They’ll head back to the river now,” Virgil offered, already turning to check on his friends. “If you want to chase after them, be my guest. Just remember they’re about to release a full-grown, pissed off parent.”

Roman’s silence spoke volumes. After a moment, he cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. “Well… you have my thanks, for the help.”

Up above, Patton was congratulating him and shifting in a manner that meant he was about to bodily throw himself at Virgil again. Logan seemed to have forgotten he was ever in peril at all, scrawling notes in a hurried way that suggested he’d never seen kelpies before and was struggling to get down as much as he could as quickly as he could. Virgil couldn’t quite contain his relief as he replied to Roman.

“You have mine, too. Thanks for keeping them safe.”

Patton really did jump down, then, and Virgil caught him with only a little strain. Logan followed suit despite the fact that he was more than capable of climbing down himself.

Roman was quiet in the ensuing chatter, but when Virgil snuck a peek at him, he was looking back with curious eyes and his sword well and truly sheathed.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #drider au #helpless #writing #my writing #spiders tw

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