#standing rear kickback

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

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Chapter 15

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Suicidal ideation; Allusions to necrophilia; Sexual themes A/N: Don’t get too settled! Things will be shaken up in some heavy, heavy ways in the next few chapters. Also, my edit button isn’t working so I can’t fix anything once this is posted. Just ignore errors and pretend I know what I’m doing.

Daryl lifted the pistol with one hand, firing off a shot with practiced precision to effortlessly hit the target— a can on top of an empty water barrel —some distance away. 

“You… didn’t even aim.” You stated timidly, your shoulders tensed and trembling close to your ears. Your target, another empty can, was significantly closer but still an intimidating distance away. 

“Yeah, I did. Jus’ been doin’ it fer s’ long that s’quick. Know what ta do without really thinkin’ ‘bout it.” He lowered his weapon and placed it in the holster at his hip, coming to stand just behind you. You had been practicing aiming for several days, even choosing to stay out after Daryl had left to complete other tasks. You had found that he was keeping an eye on you, hovering without suffocating you. 

Things had changed since he had been sick. Drastically, in your opinion. It was like a switch flipped in both of you. He communicated with a certain ease now, the way you had witnessed him speak with Carol. Still a man of few words unless they were required, but less closed off than before. 

Any apprehension you had around him had dissipated entirely. You were comfortable and felt a warm safety under his watchful eye. Even when you couldn’t see him, you knew he was there. 

You had taken to sleeping on the mattress with him. The both of you were careful to keep space between your bodies, a boundary not so willingly crossed. He usually slept with his back to you, but you opened your eyes nearly every morning to see him rising from his side, facing you. 

Your relationship with Carol was healing, bit by bit. Just that very morning, you had shown up to help her with breakfast. Silence remained throughout. You began stirring the oats while she chopped berries, taking a moment to look at one another with small smiles that said more than words ever could. 

“Don’ look at what yer shootin’ at.” Daryl stepped up beside you and tapped the rear sight of the gun. “Line ‘er up n’ then look here. Ya can still see the can, jus’ a lil’ blurry now.” The archer took a step back and crossed his arms, eyes narrowed while studying your form. You were trembling, not only with anticipation but with nervousness. You wanted to do well. You had been practicing diligently, already embarrassed that he was reminding you how to aim properly. You smiled when you saw him nod his approval from the corner of your eye.  “Whenever yer ready.”

You inhaled deeply, not focusing on the drumming of your heart or the noises of the prison around you. You let your sole focus simmer down to the weight of the gun, the slack you could feel in the trigger as you began to squeeze it. The target was indeed blurry beyond the sight but you could still see it. The can expanded and twisted into the face of Big Jazz, his cruel laughter echoing as you felt the first traces of resistance. 

Daryl had warned you about recoil, so the kickback of the weapon startled you very little. You were too focused on the target. He had instructed you to keep the gun steady even after firing so that you didn’t pull it back too early and alter the trajectory of the bullet. There was a loud clink when the projectile made contact, clipping the can on the top right, sending it soaring. 

You stared at it in wonder, the pride you felt beginning as a low buzz just below your sternum. Then you were beaming, lowering the weapon to turn your smile on Daryl, finding the man already smirking back at you. “I did it!” The calm in your voice betrayed the absolute thrill sparkling in your eyes. 

He watched you curiously. You had been spending so much time dedicated to practicing the things he would teach, soaking up the information like a sponge and immediately. You never complained that he put you through the motions and wouldn’t let you try live rounds from the get go. 

You actually never complained about anything.

You always smiled, albeit small and unsure, when you picked up your meals. You always offered a word or two of gratitude, putting forth so much effort toward acclimating yourself into the little community. You did the chores, no matter how tedious or exhausting. In between everything, you scurried off to practice on your own. 

After all you’d been through, you were blossoming into something he’d never expected. Which only added fuel to the fire of his infatuation with you. 

He was struggling to say the least, hoping to every deity that he was hiding it well. Every touch set his skin on fire. Every glance made the butterflies in his stomach do gymnastics. The urge to run from you, however, was strongly outweighed by the desire to be close to you. You needed to be safe. Even Daryl knew that it went far beyond his feelings of responsibility at this point. 

“Yer a natural.” His smile fell away as you ran at him, throwing your arms around his neck. The embrace was the reason his cheeks flushed but the real problem was still nestled in your tight grip. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! How ‘bout ya, uh, put on the safety ‘fore ya come runnin’ at me, huh?” He was unwinding your limbs, handling your gun-wielding arm with extra care. 

You pulled back with a grin that made his heart flutter. “I did.”

He blinked at you, caught off guard when you held the gun sideways to show that you actually had, at some point between firing the shot and throwing yourself against him, flicked on the safety. 

After the initial surprise wore off, he snorted slightly. “I’ll be damned. Good girl.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain caught up. His face grew impossibly warmer, but his heart dropped when he saw the expression you wore. Almost a look of fear. One that made sense almost immediately. He had meant it as a compliment but it was something you most definitely heard during less than pleasant experiences. 

“Sorry.” You dropped your gaze, that submissive stance he hadn’t seen in a while returning with such intensity that he found his hand reaching out, fingers tapping gently beneath your chin. You were slow to oblige, which was an improvement from your once instant desire to obey. 

“Shouldn’a said it like tha’.” Daryl dropped his hand to his side, too focused on how he’d just made you feel to dwell on the tingle in his fingertips from the brief feel of your skin. “Meant it as…well, uh, m’ proud’a ya.”

The discomfort faded from your face almost immediately. “Thank you, Daryl.” Your teeth teased your bottom lip in front of an almost bashful smile. When he noticed the way you were bouncing on the balls of your feet, he sighed with a dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“G’on n’ tell Carol.” You took off, your boots sliding in the gravel and almost toppling you over, but you managed to stay on your feet, tucking your handgun into the waistband of your jeans on the way up the hill. 

Daryl didn’t even realize he was smiling until he noticed movement from the corner of his eye, turning to find Rick watching him curiously. The frown was instantaneous. “What?” He snapped. 

Rick failed exponentially at covering his grin but held up his hands in surrender. “Nothing.” The archer didn’t like the way the other man laughed as he turned away. 

Carol nodded enthusiastically with an amused smile as you carried on about your successful first shot, not daring to interrupt you. She was just elated that you had come to her willingly with your excitement and that your voice was still strong and even louder than you’d ever before shown. 

“Good job!” She cheered, holding out her hand for a high five. You actually jumped when delivering the request, bringing laughter bubbling out of her throat. Rick had approached and was listening in toward the end, engaging you in conversation about the experience once you had finished telling Carol. 

As you talked with the former deputy, she watched you, only noticing small signs of discomfort in your body language. You were healing. Little by little, you were feeling more confident. You smiled freely and frequently. You laughed. You were eager to learn. It was such a beautiful thing in a not so pretty world. It was like watching her own story, different players and scenes with the same underlying theme. 

“Hey.” Daryl nudged her with his elbow. Carol looked up at him, standing beside her with his arms crossed and a stick of cinnamon between his lips. His blue eyes were trained right on you. 

“Good job, Pookie.” She laughed when his lip curled, his elbow bumping her arm a second time. 

“Whaddaya mean?” The archer inquired, rolling the cylinder between his teeth. Carol only slightly refrained from rolling her eyes. 

“Look at her. That’s all you.” She nodded toward where Rick was intently listening to you explain what Daryl had taught you, as if the man had never seen a firearm in his life. The silver-haired woman observed her friend from the corner of her eye. The bowman had a different air about him when he looked at you, even if he tried like hell to hide it. Responsibility, my ass. 

“S’all her. I jus’ watch.” He shrugged. 

“I bet you do.” She said smugly, leaving him standing there with an exasperated expression that was just as much telling as it wasn’t. 

Daryl had to go on a run. He had left you with Carol, under very strict orders not to move from the woman’s side. You didn’t like seeing Daryl upset or stressed, and he always seemed to be both when called away from the prison for hunting or scavenging. It was obvious to even you that he didn’t like to leave you behind. 

“Keep practicin’. When I think ya can handle yerself, ya can go with me.”

So that’s what you did. Everyday. You would help with the chores that kept things running smoothly and in between, you would practice. Except the days Daryl was gone. Those days, you were Carol’s shadow. She was well aware of why and never complained. Though she couldn’t make time for you to improve shooting, she would take you with her to clear the fences.

That particular day, you had ended up soaked in dark blood and brain matter. You were obviously repulsed by the mess but dropping the walkers didn’t really bother you anymore. There was still a respectable amount of fear when facing a corpse but it was no longer debilitating. 

Once inside the safety of the prison, you split from your chaperone and headed straight for the showers. Most of the community didn’t shower daily, understanding the need to conserve water. You were different. Rick gave the okay for your daily washes, knowing your history and why it was imperative for you to end the day feeling clean. Feeling new and untouched. Unsullied. 

You always made them fast but thorough. The darkness that surrounded you there was suffocating, even with your lantern. It never failed to overwhelm you with the paranoia that some sleaze was waiting in the shadows to take you back to Big Jazz. It was the same song and dance each time, without fail. 

Hair still damp, you rubbed at it with the towel on the way back to the perch. The sun had already dipped behind the trees, leaving you certain that Daryl would be waiting for you. So when you reached the top step to find the space unoccupied, you grew nervous. Not only for the archer’s safety but for the fear of being left alone once the last shreds of light gave way to the faint luminescence of the moon. 

Biting at your nails, you sat down on the mattress and laid out one of Daryl’s handkerchiefs. Cleaning your gun gave you practice while occupying your mind. You knew from experience that being left alone with your thoughts was dangerous. 

During your isolation at the club, you idealized ways to end your suffering. That only led to wondering what would become of your body. Back then, your knowledge of walkers was limited. And you knew that Todd had sold some of the other bodies to clientele and what those men were doing when they didn’t need your services for a while. The thought of what would happen after your death was almost as daunting as what was happening while you were living and breathing. 

Except you had this hope that, while you still lived, you might come to know someone. Someone that would miss you if you died.

Along came Daryl. 

He was your savior in every sense of the word. He delivered you from the hell in which you were trapped. He brought you to a place of relative safety, despite the dangers that could infiltrate. He was teaching you and protecting you. 

He had finally begun to drop his walls. He treated you like a person. He could still be abrasive but the moments had grown fewer and farther in between. He was ruggedly handsome with kind eyes and a nice smile when he would show it. It wasn’t often that his lips dared venture past a smirk. You liked his lips. 

You dropped the clip when trying to return it to the gun, blinking at the pieces with wide eyes. You were supposed to be distracted from thinking, not swooning over a man who was as emotionally available as a thumbtack. Sure, Daryl was kind but you noticed he never spared any of the women a second glance. 

They sure spared him several. 

There was a smoldering heat somewhere in your chest when you thought of how the other females would eye the man as he passed them. The sensation was vaguely familiar, a piece of your pre-enslaved self prodded at whatever cage your subconscious had trapped it inside. You couldn’t exactly name it, but you were well aware that you didn’t like it. 

With an annoyed huff, you glanced up toward the high windows. It was well past nightfall and the group had still not returned. This had never happened before and if you were completely honest, you were scared. The shadows were forgotten, every threat your mind could create was shot down by the vivid scenarios of what could have happened to Daryl. The final image your brain shoved to the forefront was enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

Daryl as a walker at the fence. 

“No, no, no.” You chanted, shoving yourself to your feet. You kept repeating the word all the way to the door of Carol’s cell. You didn’t tap on the bars or call out to her. The curtain was roughly shoved aside and you barged in with no still tumbling from your lips. 

“Y/N? Hey, what’s wrong?” She had already pulled you into her arms, shushing you and stroking your hair. 

“He’s not coming back, is he? It’s after dark. Daryl said nights are dangerous. He’s not coming back, Carol. He’s not coming back.” You sobbed against her. You had finally managed to find something good in this world. Someone good. The fear of that being stripped away from you was almost too much to bear. 

“No, no. Honey, listen. They were probably just held up. It doesn’t mean—” She seemed to understand the moment that your legs gave out and followed you to the floor, still holding you tightly against her. “Y/N, everything’s okay.”

“It’s not okay! He’s not coming back!” Your voice was slowly rising, panic taking hold in a familiar way that you never again wanted to feel. “He’s not coming back! He left me and he’s not coming back!”

“Who ain’t comin’ back?”

Your head snapped to the doorway so fast that your neck twinged in protest.

Daryl was bruised, bloody, and more than a little dirty but he was there. 

“Who ain’t— oomf!” 

You hit his chest with enough force to stagger him toward the railing, his heartrate spiking from the fear that you both might topple over it. “Why weren’t you here?! You can’t leave me, Daryl! You can’t go!”

The archer was staring helplessly at Carol, admittedly unsure of what the hell he was supposed to do. She only gave him a gentle smile and stood, walking to the door of her cell and pulling the sheet closed. He could not suppress the glare that the doorway received. 

He then turned his attention to the bundle of you currently holding so tightly to the shirt beneath his vest that he heard some part of it tear. Hug you. He should hug you. That was logical. 

“Hey.” Daryl said softly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your back. “M’right here.” Your sobs didn’t seem to quiet in the slightest, surely alerting everyone else in the prison. Hopefully they weren’t asleep yet. “Y/N. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere.” His brow furrowed when he noticed how hard you were trembling. When words were continuing to fail him, he settled with just holding you. 

It felt like hours of listening to you cry, the vice around his heart tightening until he could barely breathe. When one of the former Woodbury residents peeked out of their cell to scowl at him, he knew he had to get you away from that area. Not before offering a glare that had the man’s eyebrows shooting into his hairline just before he disappeared back into his space. 

You made no objections when he bent to sweep an arm beneath your knees, only refusing to release your hold on the shirt your tears were steadily soaking through. He was careful, walking slowly so as not to jostle you, like you were still that fragile burden he had carried to the prison all those weeks ago. 

Once he had climbed the stairs, he attempted to place you down on the mattress but you held fast to him, twisting your fists for a firmer grip. Daryl couldn’t help the fond smile he gave to the top of your head. 

“Gonna hafta let go eventually.” With a deep, stuttering breath, your hold finally loosened yet didn’t fall away. “Wanna tell me wha’ happened?”

“Nights are dangerous.” Your voice was so small that it reminded him of the first time you ever spoke to him, outside of that club. He did not want to see you revert back from the person you had worked so hard to become. “That’s what you said. When night came, I thought—”

“Ya thought I wouldn’ come back.” You nodded against his chest. “Ran outta fuel skirtin’ ‘round a herd. Gotta diff’rent car, got the crap we found, made it back.” You sniffled again. 

“You were late.”

Daryl couldn’t stop himself from snorting. “Didn’ realize I had a curfew.” He was able to hold onto the humor of the situation until you finally looked at him. His heart went plummeting down into some dark part of him, knowing then and there that he never wanted to see that fearful hopelessness again. 

“Don’t leave me behind again. Please.”

The archer swallowed hard, feeling like an asshole. “Y/N, I can’ take ya out there. It ain’t safe.” His hold tightened slightly when he turned to sit on the mattress, lowering your legs onto his lap, so that he could embrace you with both arms. You were still looking at him. Strangely, he didn’t feel anxious under your gaze, distressed as it was. He felt oddly…anchored. 

“It’ll never be safe.” 

He couldn’t argue with that point. Nowhere was safe anymore. “Not knowin’ how ta protect yerself gets ya killed. I can’ take ya with me n’ have ta watch ya the whole time. Get us both killed.”

“Then teach me.” You implored, actually shaking him with the hold you still had on his shirt. “I can use the knife. I can shoot. Teach me what else I need to know so I can go with you.”

Daryl’s expression fell. You were right. You were good with your knife. You were fucking great with the gun. There was only one thing left to show you. And he dreaded it more than actually taking you outside the fence. “Ya need ta know how ta fight.” Your head tilted in a way that he would have found adorable had he not felt like he was about to vomit. 

“Can Carol or Maggie—”

He was already shaking his head. “Need ta know how ta fight someone bigger, stronger. Need ta be able ta hold yer own when I can’ get ta ya.” When, not if. There would undoubtedly come a time when you would be alone, for whatever reason, and need to be able to take down walker or human; woman or man. 

He would need to teach you. 

Which meant, at some point, putting his hands on you. 

The images of finding you at the mercy of Lonny and Marvin. The stark contrast between the blood and your skin. The way you had surrendered, given up, and just accepted what would have happened if he hadn’t—

Daryl didn’t know when he had looked away, staring at some unimportant spot on the floor until your soft palm turned him back to you. 

“Okay.”

He narrowed his eyes, filled with an anger he knew wasn’t for you. It was for the lowlife assholes that had touched you, made you afraid of your own shadow. You had struggled to claw your way out of the shell they had left behind and now he would be forced to bring all of that back to the surface. Maybe not at first, but before it was done, before he would even feel remotely comfortable taking you anywhere beyond the prison gate, you would be afraid of him. 

“I can do it, Daryl.” 

The fire he felt raging just behind his ribs began to fade when he looked at you, your fierce determination mingling with the softness your eyes always held. Somewhere down deep, he knew you could do it. It wasn’t really about that. It was him. He was the one afraid. He never wanted to be the source of your nightmares. He didn’t want to portray the monster that his father so openly and willingly embraced. 

He somehow managed to swallow past the lump in his throat. “Okay.” He reluctantly agreed. “I, uh… need ta shower. Gettin’ guts n’ shit all over yer clothes.” When he tried to move you aside, this time you let him. Yet when he stood, your hand snagged his wrist and he found himself looking down at you again. 

“Don’t go.”

“M’jus’ gonna shower, Y/N.” Had his absence really been that profound? “M’gonna be righ’ back.”

“I’ll go with you.” 

Daryl was certain his jaw hit the floor. “W-wha’?” 

“I won’t look. I promise. I just…I don’t want to be alone.” You released his wrist but he could still feel a tingling where your fingers had been. 

“Y’ain’t alone. Carol’s jus’—”

“I don’t want to be away from you right now.”

Part of him wouldn’t mind if you tagged along. You weren’t going there to gawk at him. But the part of him that knew what he was planning on doing aside from showering was filled with a sudden shame that he was no stranger to but had learned to ignore. 

“Please?” You fixed him with those doe eyes of yours and he knew he was well and truly fucked. The hunter rubbed a hand roughly over his face and began to dig through his pile of clean clothing for something to wear to bed. Before you, he had usually just slept in whatever he was wearing when he crashed, giving in to the need for comfort by pulling on some flannel pants on occasion. When you began to spend more time in his space, he had raided the scavenged clothing and found several things he could sleep in that would make it more comfortable for you. How could you relax if he was constantly covered in grime and guts with no reprieve?

“Fine.” 

You didn't smile which actually surprised him. You loved to beam at him when he gave you your way, but this was different. He had truly scared you. Clothing and towel in hand, he started down the steps with you trailing behind. He shouldn’t have been allowing you to be so dependent on him. You needed to learn to be self reliant, self soothing. God, he was making you sound like an infant. 

Maybe you simply didn’t know that it wasn’t exactly appropriate. You had been passed from man to man for so long that the lines of decency were blurred. He couldn’t fault you for that, and he wouldn’t try to educate you when you had been so shaken and he was aching and dog-tired. 

The run had been a shitshow. He didn’t lie to you, those things did happen. He just omitted a few things that would have done nothing but compound your anxiety. He was well aware that you would need to know the realities of a supply run but he would explain those in detail when you were ready to join him. The thought made him cringe. He still couldn’t imagine you out there. Not that you weren’t doing well with training. You were. It was just that knowing you’d be anywhere near immediate danger made him sick to his stomach. 

He was hyper aware of each and every step you took behind him, even with your feet being bare. As an afterthought, he wondered if he should have brought the lantern. He didn’t need it but perhaps you would. If you did, you hadn’t said anything, even when he stepped into the stall, still fully clothed. 

He turned to find you holding some of your own clothes at your hip. 

“Mine got dirty.” You shrugged, walking into the adjoining stall. Nothing but a single half wall separated you. When he saw your arms raise and the shirt being lifted over your head, he turned his back and inwardly groaned. 

Why, oh why, had you needed to follow him? 

“Done.” You announced, any trace of you gone when he turned around. Brow knitted, he raised to the balls of his feet to look over the barrier but still couldn’t see you. Next, he leaned forward and peered around the outside of the wall. You were sitting with your back against the tiles, your eyes finding his before you smiled shyly. “Is this okay? I don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable.”

Uncomfortable could not even begin to describe how Daryl was feeling. 

You watched as Daryl’s eyes narrowed, something almost playful twinkling within the cobalt depths. “No peeking.” He warned, his tone light, and then he vanished back to the other side. 

You ignored the sounds of him undressing— the graze of his boots over his socks, the soft clink of his belt buckle —and busied yourself with chewing on your nails, trying to even out the ones you had fucked up during your earlier episode. Chewing at a jagged edge, you’d pull back to inspect your work and then continue to the next. 

You had made it almost all the way across one hand when a weight plopped and settled over your head. The familiar smell of leather stifled any instantaneous fear, so you pulled at the veil to find it was the winged vest. 

“Daryl,” you whined through a smile. “I just changed my clothes!” The shower started spraying behind you. 

“Oops.” He replied flippantly. 

Leaning forward, you cross-crossed your legs beneath you and set about carefully folding his vest, brushing away any dirt you could see by only moonlight, the rest left for when you could properly clean it. Carol had taught you how to care for and maintain it when the precious article came through in the laundry she had gathered, the one and only time you’d seen it in all the loads you’d helped wash. 

Sweeping your hand back and forth over the material, you smiled at how far you’d come. There was a man showering less than ten feet away from you and you weren’t whimpering or cowering. You weren’t looking for an escape. It was a testament to both your strength and the influence of the aforementioned man in the shower. 

Amidst your thoughts, the smell of burnt tobacco wafted into your face, your nose scrunching. You hadn’t even heard the lighter!

“Are you seriously smoking in the shower?”

“Who doesn’?” 

You could tell he was letting the cigarette hang between his lips from the sound of his voice, obviously talking from one side of his mouth. You smiled and rolled your eyes but didn’t badger him further. There was no need. Your mind ventured far away. 

It started innocently enough. You were picturing him washing his hair while drawing off the cigarette, exhaling the smoke through his nose and looking pleased as punch. You would have giggled had your traitorous mind not called upon the rest of his body. Just recalling what you had seen that night made your cheeks burn. 

If it had ended there, you might have been able to brush it off without hindrance. Your subconscious was never kind to you. 

You saw yourself sitting on the low wall that currently separated you from him, just as wet and just as bare. The archer stepped between your legs that were open in invitation. His scars felt like your own, your fingers studying them as he watched, the cigarette still pressed between his lips. You blinked up at him when he grabbed the smoke between his thumb and forefinger, flicking it into the shower floor to be extinguished and forgotten. That same hand glided up your thigh and dipped between your bodies, his fingers mimicking your own; delicately tracing the scars littered over your core. 

“You’re just like me.” You whispered as his lips found yours. 

“If ya mean tired n’ done with this shit day then yep, we ‘bout the same.”

You jolted sideways, eyes wide with surprise. “Daryl!” He was standing at the end of the stall in flannel pants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, his damp towel and dirty clothing in hand. 

“Yeah?” He was waiting you out but you couldn’t seem to find words while your fresh little fantasy continued to flicker behind your eyes. “Y’alrigh’?”

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat, suddenly uncomfortable with his close proximity. “I’m good.” Clambering to your feet, you smiled and handed him his vest. “I’m just really tired too.” His narrowed eyes brought on worry that he wasn’t buying it but after a moment, he nodded toward the door.

“Le’s hit the sack. Gotta a long day tomorrow.” 

You hummed your agreement and followed him out. Sleep was doubtfully going to be in the cards that night, not after what you had allowed to happen inside your head. Daryl wanted you, at least he had wanted you at some point. Did he still? Did you want him? Of course you did. He had made it clear that he cared for you. You were his friend. Maybe he did still want to fuck you. 

That wasn’t something you could ever allow. 

You were damaged. Healing but forever damaged. You’d been used so frequently by so many that you would never allow Daryl to lower himself to such desperation. There were plenty of women there vying for his attention. Maybe once he was less focused on you, he could start thinking more about his own needs. He would see that any appeal you had was nothing compared to a woman who could give him her whole heart and not just a pile of shredded fragments. 

Finally settled, your shoulders were almost touching while the two of you laid on your backs. Silence was abundant for the longest time before Daryl cleared his throat. 

“Night.”

“Goodnight.”

Simultaneously, you both turned away from the other; Daryl’s eyes on the wall and yours on the shadows past the railing. 

Neither was aware that the other was thinking the exact same thing. 

He deserves better.

She deserves better. 

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[ponyguru]

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[everestfitness]

WOD 5/28/2024

MOW Day #1

WO I/GYM

Front Lat Pulldowns/Crunches/Lower Body Flexibility Exercises (5 Sets)

Seated Lat Cable Rows (5 Sets)

Rear Deltoid Cable Pulls (5 Sets)

Hammer Strength Upper Lat Machine (5 Sets)

Bicep Preacher Curl Machine (4 Sets)

Cable Reverse Curls (3 Sets)

Cable Bicep Curls (3 Sets)

Seated Calf Raises/Bicep Concentration Curls (5 Sets)

WOD 5/27/2024

Flight Day overseas

WOD 5/26/2024

MOW Day #5

Front Lat Pulldowns/Crunches/Lower Body Flexibility Exercises (6 Sets)

Seated Lat Cable Rows (5 Sets)

DB Bentover Lateral Raises (5 Seta)

One Arm Cable Rows (5 Sets)

Triceps Cable Pressdowns (6 Sets)

Reverse Grip Triceps Pressdowns ( 4 Sets)

DB One Arm Triceps Kickbacks (3 Sets)

EZ Curl Bar Overhead Extensions (3 Sets)

WO I/GYM

WOD 5/25/2024

MOW Day #4

BB Flat Bench Press/Crunches/Lower Body Flexibility Exercises (6 Sets)

BB Incline Press (5 Sets)

DB Flat Bench Flies (3 Sets)

DB Incline/30 Degrees Press (3 Sets)

Leg Press (6 Sets)

Leg Extensions (5 Sets)

Leg Curls (5 Sets)

Standing Calf Raises (5 Sets)

WOD 5/24/2024

MOW Day #3

WOI/MOUNTAIN:

MT. Wilson Trail up to First Water/3.5 Miles RT/970 Feet Climbed/Pack

[minichainsaw]

Mastering Your Mini Chainsaw Cordless Techniques

Mini chainsaws have gained popularity for their versatility, portability, and ease of use, making them invaluable tools for a wide range of applications. Cordless mini chainsaws, in particular, offer the freedom to work without cords and are perfect for precision cutting tasks. To truly harness the potential of your cordless mini chainsaw, it's essential to master the right techniques. In this blog post, we'll guide you through the key techniques and tips to help you become proficient in using your cordless mini chainsaw effectively and safely.

Chapter 1: Safety First

Before we delve into the techniques, let's emphasize the importance of safety when using any chainsaw:

Safety Gear: Always wear appropriate safety gear, including a helmet, safety goggles, ear protection, gloves, and sturdy footwear. Chainsaw chaps or pants are also recommended.

Read the Manual: Familiarize yourself with your cordless mini chainsaw's manual. It contains vital information about operation, maintenance, and safety precautions.

Inspect the Chainsaw: Before each use, inspect your chainsaw for loose or damaged parts, and ensure the chain is sharp. A well-maintained tool is safer and more efficient.

Chapter 2: Proper Grip and Stance

Firm Grip: Hold the chainsaw with both hands, ensuring a firm and comfortable grip. Your dominant hand should be on the rear handle, while your other hand should be on the front handle. Keep your elbows slightly bent for better control.

Steady Stance: Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, ensuring a stable and balanced stance. Keep your body to the side of the cutting area, and never stand directly behind the chainsaw's path.

Chapter 3: Cutting Techniques

Basic Cutting: When making basic cuts, maintain a steady and controlled movement. Ensure that the chainsaw's chain is in contact with the wood throughout the cut to prevent kickback.

Angle of Approach: For horizontal cuts, approach the wood from above, positioning the chainsaw's bar parallel to the ground. For vertical cuts, approach from the side, keeping the bar perpendicular to the ground.

Pruning Techniques: For precision pruning, make your cuts at a slight angle to encourage water runoff and prevent disease. Trim branches just outside the branch collar (the swollen area where the branch meets the trunk).

Cutting Near the Ground: Be cautious when cutting close to the ground to avoid contact with dirt, rocks, or hidden objects that could damage the chain or cause kickback.

Chapter 4: Chainsaw Maintenance

Chain Tension: Regularly check and adjust the tension of the chainsaw's chain according to the manufacturer's guidelines. A loose chain can derail and cause accidents.

Lubrication: Keep the chain properly lubricated using the recommended bar and chain oil. Lubrication reduces friction and prolongs the life of the chain.

Sharpen the Chain: Maintain a sharp chain by using a electric chainsaw cordless file or a specialized chain sharpener. A dull chain not only reduces cutting efficiency but also increases the risk of accidents.

Chapter 5: Practice and Experience

Like any skill, using a cordless mini chainsaw effectively requires practice and experience:

Start with Smaller Projects: If you're new to using a chainsaw, begin with smaller, less complex tasks to build your confidence and skills.

Seek Guidance: Consider taking a chainsaw safety and operation course or consulting with an experienced user for guidance and tips.

Continuous Improvement: Regularly evaluate and refine your techniques as you gain more experience. Stay open to learning and adapting to different cutting scenarios.

Conclusion

Mastering your cordless mini chainsaw techniques is a journey that involves safety, practice, and a commitment to continuous improvement. By following proper safety measures, maintaining your tool, and honing your cutting skills, you'll unlock the full potential of your cordless mini chainsaw and accomplish a wide range of cutting tasks efficiently and safely. Remember that safety is paramount, and always prioritize it during every chainsaw operation. Happy cutting!

[alexcalder]

—there is a misconception that shooting a gun is like in the movies; grab the thing, pull the trigger. sure, people who have handled guns for a long time, could do that, find aim easily, don’t get startled by the recoil. someone who handles a gun for the first time, who has little experience, needs a solid grip, a good stance, aim. there is gonna be some kickback, depends on the weapon of choice, the strength, or wrong put position of legs or arms. Alexander needn’t put all that effort to shoot a gun, especially not a handgun, not after all these years. his aim is always impeccable, as well as his reflexes; he needs no more than a split of a second to find aim, shoot. but when he is working, everything comes into consideration, all elements that can affect the trajectory of the shot. “doesn’t matter...” he responded in a somewhat cold tone as she begun saying she didn’t want to, he would have cut her off if she hadn’t trailed off. for a moment, he thought, she looked a little out of it, then he watched her as she curled her finger around the trigger, held the gun up for a moment.

as she lowered the gun, Alex placed a hand under hers, pulled them back up again. staring right at the muzzle of the gun. it reminded him much of how his father had first started teaching him, then his brother; he had thought it was fun, back then, a game, but he had to be three, everything seemed like fun for the most part. he nudged her left leg with his foot. “shoulder width apart.” he circled around her. “knees slightly bent..” he instructed, “only a little.” and then he came to stand before her again, straightened her arms, aimed the gun at his chest again. he looked down at her. “there’s your sights; rear, front.” he explained, pointed to the respectful parts on the gun. “use them to aim.” they would help align the shot. he stepped aside, still watching her carefully. “shoot that window out…” it was only half a broken glass, part of it still hanging on the frame, not 50 meters away from where they were standing. “mind the kickback.” he warned her. it wasn’t that bad on the sig p226 he had handed her, but for someone her size and inexperience, it was gonna be enough to throw her off stance.

⏤ She was swaying her foot while singing and wrapping and unwrapping her golden hair in her index finger while chomping her bubblegum, and singing beautifully while observing the landscape from the window, and yawning. She hopes wherever is it, he took them there was some water to drink because she was thirsty, and the bubblegum was helping her to salivate. ⏤ She looked at him when he laughed, holding up his gaze with an amusing smile spreading over her delicate features. ⎯ ❛ Right. ❜ She put the volume up again, and back to singing, while driving them to whatever destination is this. He was being a decent father, and the twins were enjoying his presence, and getting excited to have him around. Even Beau is jealous of his mother. He still does, but he's enjoying his father's presence, though they don't know Alex is their father yet. Liz reckons that maybe soon, it's time to reveal the truth.

When they arrived she took a good glance at this ghost town. She felt like she was on the set of Ghostbusters movie. She wasn't scared of that dusty, crumbly, and ugly place. When he asked to her hold the gun, being it already be held by her both hands, as if it was a dirty toy. ❛ I am holding it. ❜ She quickly added until he said 'properly' before he took her wrist, and adjusted her grip on it. She allowed him to position her wrists and the grip on the gun in her hand. ❛ But I don't want to… ❜ If she wasn't nervous before, now she is. And then she remembers nearly two months ago, Paul trying to kill her, and literally dying on top of her once the trigger was pulled. Not her who pulls the trigger… But still, the scene replayed on the back of her mind.

She remains in a frozen position, with the gun in her hands in the same position he adjusted before letting go. Her index finger wrapped on the trigger, and she pointed the gun down. ❛ And now? ❜ Liz looked at Alex, waiting for the next step.

[fitliferegime]

How To Dumbbell Tricep Kickbacks Properly

The dumbbell kickback is a strength-training exercise that targets the triceps muscle in the upper arm. It is an effective exercise for building arm size and strength. It is a popular choice for those looking to tone and strengthen their tricep. This blog will tell you everything you need to know:: - What is the dumbbell kickback, - How to perform the exercise properly, - The benefits it provides - The common mistakes to avoid. - Different ways to do the dumbbell tricep kickback After reading this blog, you will have a better understanding of the dumbbell kickback and how it can help you achieve your bigger tricep.

What Is Dumbbell Triceps Kickback

The dumbbell tricep kickback is a versatile and effective exercise that targets the triceps muscles. It is an exercise that builds strength and muscle in all three heads of the tricep muscle. When doing a tricep workout with a dumbbell, kickback is one of the best single-arm exercises you can add to correct potential imbalances. Using dumbbell aims to stimulation of target muscles important for muscle hypertrophy. In this exercise, you hold a dumbbell in one hand and start with your arm bent and the weight near your torso. Then, you extend your arm behind you, keeping it straight, and return to the starting position. The dumbbell triceps kickback can be performed using one arm at a time, or using both arms simultaneously. Muscle Worked During Dumbbell Tricep Kickback The tricep dumbbell kickback primary muscle works on all, the three head of triceps (the long, medial, and lateral head)  In addition to the triceps, the exercise also works rear deltoids, core and other muscles in your mid-upper back contract to a lesser extent to stabilize the upper body.

Benefits Of Tricep Kickbacks The few advantages of performing dumbbell kickback triceps are: - It is highly versatile as you can adjust it to your current fitness level. - Dumbbell kickbacks build functional strength by improving the flexibility and stability of your arms and shoulders. - It requires limited space with no other special equipment; it is a perfect workout at home option for people who cannot afford to hit the gym daily. - A dumbbell kickback is the best exercise to stimulates all three heads of triceps while straining the lateral head a little more. - Tricep kickback is the best warm-up exercise for other advanced tricep exercises. For example, you can perform this and then move to a diamond push-up, which will be effortless to accomplish. - It increases the upper body movement and range, thereby helping you perform your lifting, swimming, boxing, rowing, and other pushing activities efficiently. - Doing multiple sets of triceps kickbacks can improve endurance in the triceps, making it easier to perform everyday activities that require arm strength. How To Do Dumbbell Kickback Correctly Here is a step-by-step guide to performing the dumbbell kickback:

How To Do - Start by selecting a weight that is appropriate for your fitness level. A good starting point is usually between 5–15 pounds. - Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, holding a dumbbell in each hand. - Bend forward at the waist and place your right hand and right knee on a bench or stability ball. Your left foot should be behind you, with your left knee slightly bent. - With your left arm, grasp the dumbbell and raise it to your chest, keeping your elbow close to your body. - Keeping your elbow stationary, extend your arm behind you as far as you can while keeping your arm straight. - Hold for a moment, then slowly return to the starting position, keeping your arm close to your body. - Repeat for the desired number of repetitions, then switch sides and repeat the exercise with your left arm.

Form and Technique For Doing Kickback

While strength-building exercises provide you with numerous benefits, it’s a good idea to follow a few guidelines to maintain safety and prevent injury. - Always warm up and cold down your body for 5 to 10 minutes at the beginning and end of each session. - Use the lowest weight available while you work on learning proper form and technique. - It’s a good idea to take off at least one or two full days per week to allow your muscles time to rest and recover. - Make sure to warm up with lightweight before training heavy to protect your elbows from excessive stress. - Keep your body as still as possible, move only your forearms.   - As a general rule, always work your weakest side first. In most cases, this will be the left. - Use smooth, steady, controlled movements instead of those that are jerky and forceful. - Make sure you’re able to maintain a smooth, natural breath throughout your routine.

Best Variations Of DB Tricep Kickbacks

1. Seated Two Arm Dumbbell Kickback The seated bent-over DB tricep kickback is a variation of the standing dumbbell kickback. Seated triceps kickbacks are an exercise used to isolate the muscles of the triceps. The seated bent-over two-arm dumbbell kickback is a fantastic tricep isolation exercise that effectively builds size and strength in all three heads of the triceps. You can also perform this exercise alternating one arm at a time.

How To Do - Sit on a bench and grab a pair of dumbbells using a neutral grip (palms facing your body). - Keeping your upper arms fixed to your sides, lean forward until your torso is almost horizontal. Your back should be straight. - Exhale as you extend the dumbbells behind you until your forearms are horizontal. - Hold for a count of two and inhale as you slowly lower the dumbbells to the starting position. 2. Seated single arm kickback The seated single arm dumbbell triceps kickback is a variation of the traditional seated kickback that is performed while seated on a flat bench with one arm extended at a time.

How To Do - Sit on a flat bench, with your back straight and your feet flat on the floor. - Hold a dumbbell in one hand, with your palm facing in and your elbow bent at a 90-degree angle. - Keeping your elbow stationary, extend your arm behind you as far as you can while keeping your arm straight. - Hold for a moment, then slowly return to the starting position, keeping your arm close to your body. - Repeat for the desired number of repetitions, then switch sides and repeat the exercise with your other arm. 3. Standing Single Arm Dumbbell kickback The standing Single arm dumbbell triceps kickback is a variation of the traditional kickback that can be performed without the need for a bench. The standing kickback targets the triceps, and by working one arm at a time, you’re also engaging your core and torso for stability.

How To Do - Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, holding a dumbbell in each hand. - Bend forward slightly at the waist, keeping your back straight. - Grab a dumbbell with your right hand, place your left foot forward and your right foot back. - Raise your right elbow back, so that the upper arm is almost parallel to the floor, and kick back until your arm is fully extended. - Slowly lower the dumbbell back to the starting position. - Complete all reps on the right arm and then repeat on the left. 4. Two Arm Dumbbell Standing kickback Standing two arm dumbbell triceps kickback, variation, is performed while standing with both arms extended simultaneously. It is a great exercise for strengthening the triceps and improving arm stability, so make sure to include it in your workout routine.

How To Do - Bend forward slightly at the waist, keeping your back straight. - Bend your elbows so that your upper arms are parallel to the floor, with your forearms pointing forward and the weights near your torso. - Keeping your elbows stationary, extend both arms behind you as far as you can while keeping your arms straight. - Hold for a moment, then slowly return to the starting position, keeping your arms close to your body. - Repeat for the desired number of reps. 5. Incline Dumbbell Kickback Incline kickback aka chest supported kickback is a variation of the traditional dumbbell kickback that is performed while lying face down on an incline bench. The chest supported position helps to take the strain off your lower back and provides a stable surface How To Do - Lie face down on an incline bench, with your chest supported by the bench. - Hold a dumbbell in each hand, with your palms facing each other and your elbows bent at a 90-degree angle. - Keeping your elbow stationary, extend your arm behind you as far as you can while keeping your arm straight. - Hold for a moment, then slowly return to the starting position, keeping your arm close to your body. - Repeat for the desired number of repetitions, then switch sides and repeat the exercise with your other arm. Sets And Reps Start with 8 to 12 repetitions and increase the number of reps over time until you’re able to complete 3 sets of 16 repetitions. Once the exercise becomes too easy, it’s time to change to a set of heavier dumbbells.

FAQs

Are dumbbell kickbacks effective? Yes, dumbbell kickbacks can be effective for targeting and strengthening the triceps muscle. When performed with proper form and technique, and combined with a well-rounded strength training program, kickback can help to build and tone the triceps. Does kickback work all 2 head of tricep Yes, dumbbell triceps kickbacks work all three heads of the triceps muscle, including the lateral head, medial head, and long head. How many sets and reps of the kicback exercise should I do. The number of sets and reps for triceps kickbacks can vary depending on your goals and experience level. As a general guideline, you can aim for 3–4 sets of 8–12 reps per arm, with 30–60 seconds of rest between sets.

Takeaways

I think the dumbbell triceps kickback is a great exercise to add to your workout routine, whether you're a beginner or an experienced fitness enthusiast. It is a highly effective exercise for targeting and strengthening the triceps muscle. There are several ways to do the dumbbell triceps kickback. Choose the one that works best for you.

Related Posts

- 10 Best Triceps Workout with Dumbbells for mass & Strength - Lateral head triceps exercises for Bigger, Stronger Arms - 12 Chest and Triceps Workout With Dumbbells for Muscle

Best Triceps workout with Dumbbell for Bigger Arms

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v9_spJ9Uuzk Read the full article

[imaginedreamwrite]

Taste Of Honey: Part 4

It was a lifetime of loneliness; a lifetime of endless want and desire for someone he had yet to see. It was a promise of something that would come in the future that had driven him forward instead of revelling in the past.

It was a promise from his mother that one day he would have a mate of his own to care for and protect, that he would have to wait until the time was right. Ari had spent a lifetime waiting, a lifetime of passing people by and wondering if one of them, if any number of them could have been his mate and time and time again he wasn’t just disappointed, he was anguished. It was an entire lifetime of waiting for the right person to come, for his beast to feel the connection and catch the scent of the one meant for him.

The bear within him had come clawing to the surface when he caught your scent when he had seen you. The bear within him had reared its head and bared its teeth in the lofty desperation to have their mate with them, to have their mate safely tucked in their home before hibernation had locked them down into a long wintery stint in the cabin.

He had been prepared physically, for the arrival of his mate and had been mentally prepared for the setbacks and the kickback from you after you were taken. Ari had been prepared to have the devastation rampage through his life to help you settle into this, he was well aware that it wouldn’t just be difficult for you. Although trying to explain why you couldn’t leave his stretch of land due to the hibernation effects that had essentially sealed the entire place off from the clutches of wanderers that came too close, was not going to be an easy task.

You had hidden away when he had managed to bring you back into the cabin. You had kicked him with the heel of your foot as hard as you possibly could directly in the chest, and while you hadn’t truly hurt him you knocked the wind out of him, and that was just enough time for you to squirrel yourself away from him.

Or at least you thought you had, however, Ari knew exactly where you were.

He could catch your scent and the sound of your heart racing as you had kept the barrier of a wooden door between you and himself, your state of panic heightening and increasing, morphing into animosity as you had kept yourself away from him. He could hear every beat, every shaky breath and the sound of your footsteps on the wooden floor as you paced back and forth, calculating a plan or simply thinking about what was going on and why you were here.

Ari had taken the steps two at a time as he had climbed the staircase to your room and then he had stopped outside your door and raised his hand to knock, his knuckles barely grazing the door when he had stopped and lowered his arm once more. He had stood outside the door and listened to the sound of your shaky breathing.

He was debating knocking, he was debating asking you if you wanted to talk because now he was at odds with himself, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to even begin quantifying how much you had meant to him, how badly he had wanted you and needed you.

After another minute Ari had raised his hand and knocked twice, the sound reverberating through the door and catching your attention. He had listened to the sound of your breath hitching in your throat and the thrashing of your heart as you waited for him to do something, to say something.

You were waiting for him, and he was waiting for you.

“Y/N, can you open the door so we can talk?” Ari had waited for a response all while being able to feel your aggression and your anger, and the almost tangible bitter taste of your confusion that was radiating and piercing. He was standing outside the door while waiting for you to say something; anything.

Ari had stepped back and studied the door, almost as if he was willing himself to be able to see through the wooden barrier to get a clear look at you. There would be nowhere to go now, there would be nowhere to turn. The hibernation and the charm itself were settling in, and even if you could run, even if you had tried to run, there was a barrier around his land, there was a protective wall that kept eyeing humans off his property.

“Y/N-“ Ari had raised his hand again, he had moved to knock on the door and had been taken by surprise when the door had opened and you had presented yourself as a small, squandering human compared to his massive size and yet he was the one who had felt as if his knees were going to give out on him.

“Are you going to kill me? Are you going to torture and maim me?” Your anger was justified, your anger was vehement, and Ari felt the beast inside of him grunting in indignation at the prospect, and he had to contain the urge to verbally react.

“Y/N-“

“You kidnapped me! What do you want huh? Are you going to kill me? Are you going to flay me and eat my flesh? What do you want with me?” Your eyes had narrowed and your fingers gripping the edge of the door as if you were planning on using it as a weapon, and Ari was briefly distracted by the absolute brilliance of your irises, the beauty of your eye colour and the radiance that was innately yours.

“I’m not going to kill you.” The bear trapped within him had started to rise, had started to paw at the cage he was in, displaying his urgency and need to be released.

“Then why am I here? How do you know who I am? Let me go, right now!” You had squared your jaw, and Ari was struck silent. How could he react when everything about you was mesmerizing? How could he have possibly found the words to say anything when you were captivating him, even in blinding anger?

“Are you listening to me? I said let me go! Take me back to town and let me go!” You had raised your voice and screamed your demand at him, you had addressed him with ravenous urgency and he knew the longer he had stayed silent the more irate you had become.

“There’s a lot to explain, if you could just come downstairs so we can talk-“

“How do you know me? Why am I here? Where the fuck is my cellphone? All my things?!” Your heart was racing, your hands shaking as you had faced off against him.

“Can we talk?” Ari had tried again to reason with you. “Are you hungry? Do you need something?”

“Let me go!” You had forgone reasoning with him and he had expected as much. You had forgone the gentle approach of pleading for something he could not give and had instead acted in aggression.

“I can’t, honey. I can’t let you go-“ the door was slammed in his face and the sound of your heavy footsteps had started again, the sound of your angry pacing had begun again.

Ari had stood at the door waiting for everything and nothing. He had stood on the other side of the door with his mate pacing angrily on one side, and his bear ravaging the cage he was in on this side.

His bear was angry and irritated, his bear was thrashing nastily as he demanded to be close to the one they had been waiting for. Gnashing of teeth and clawing at the frame that had kept it trapped, furious for the distance and every presently preparing for a fight for control, his inner beast was tumultuous.

Ari had turned away from the door and you, leaving you in peace. He had walked back down the steps while trying to rein in his beast that was demanding to be close to you after waiting for so long to have a mate.

Ari knew that it would ultimately get them nowhere and trying to rush the process, trying to appease his beast with the closeness he had desired would only draw you further away from them as a whole, and that was not something Ari would ever be able to contend with.

Instead, Ari had trudged toward the front door and slipped on a pair of plain stained brown boots and had grabbed a work coat from the brass hanger and had slipped his arms through the sleeves. He had started to halfheartedly button the jacket from the bottom up, all while he was listening to the sound of your pacing and the steady stream of murmurs that you had not intended him to hear, and yet he had.

Ari had stopped and he had waited, listened to the sound of your voice before he had finally placed his hand upon the door handle and turned, waiting another half beat before he had pulled the door open and stepped outside, the crisping and chilling air hitting him head-on.

He stepped out onto the porch and took the few steps that would take him onto the property at the front of the house, and upon stepping onto the crunching and dried leaves, Ari had taken pause. He had rested his hands upon his hips and exhaled languidly, at odds with himself and the beast that was clawing for control.

The hibernation effect and charm would be settling in any day now, and it was getting increasingly close to the end of the season when he would be willing to go out. The instincts that he had been born with to hide away and hibernate from the general populous of humans who had no idea what he was, or other creatures who were against his kind in the natural world, we’re coming into full effect. Ari was driven to a higher need to completely lock down his land without a single crack in the defensive barrier, and that was because of you.

You were his mate and as a werebear, he wasn’t just protective and possessive because he wanted to claim you, he was possessive and protective because he knew others were out there.

Ari had known the haggard extents and extremes and unmated bear would go to and through to have a mate, even if that mate had not belonged to them. Ari had known that he was not the only unmated bear round seeking a companion for the upcoming hibernation period and if you were left unattended for too long, you would draw attention to yourself.

Your scent, as an unmarked and unmated human in the thick of a bear’s territory, would draw the attention of others in the area.

Ari’s land was protected from humans, it was protected from those who would want to cross a line that wasn’t navigable however that same hibernation charm that protected you and him from curious and exploratory humans, could also aid in another male bear stealing you.

Ari stalked toward the pile of logs that needed to be chopped and had ripped the axe from the block. He had set the back end of the blade on his shoulder and cast his eyes upon your room and the window you were standing near, studying the curtains as they had shifted when you stepped out of view. Ari had kept his eyes on your window as he flexed his fingers around the handle of the axe, then clenched his jaw and grit his teeth.

He had no other option, he had no other choice but to be the villain in your story, to be the monster who kept the innocent beautiful woman captive.

He had to be your captor, he had to be your jailor and the man you despised at the moment because he knew that if hadn’t been him, it would have been someone much worse.

[poltergeiszt]

Um if you’re still taking Nandermo requests I’d love to see Guillermo witnessing/actively helping Nandor go full on feral ripping a victim’s throat out when he’s feeding 👀Bonus if Nandor reverts to something goofy when it’s over (and Guillermo is covered in blood in the crossfire lmao)

i am Staring at this so hard

----

It's no secret that Nandor has been positively ravenous as of late. The supply of virgins in Staten Island tends to dwindle, with how quickly the vampires sniff them out, and Guillermo can only source one place so many times before red flags start to raise. So the chastity union at the university is out, as are most game stores in the area. His master is growing increasingly impatient.

When at last he manages to find one, it's at a record shop. He lingers around the aisle for indie rock and thumbs through the same stack of Tame Impala vinyls over and over until some uncomfortably-sweaty-looking enough guy stands beside him, and then he talks him up like he always does. Oh, yeah, I love this stuff! I'm super into...Impalas. And um. And taming them. I'm having a- a kickback with my friends tonight, putting on some...chill tunes and stuff. You should come! Open invitation, y'know?

It's almost disappointing how easy it's become.

The man (his name was Kevin or Ethan or something else blandly tragic like that) shows up at seven o'clock sharp, and Guillermo lets him in, all smiles and talk of nachos in the kitchen and a vast record collection to show him. It doesn't much cross his mind to feel bad anymore. "Just in here?"

"Yeah, just on the left!" Guillermo says from a few steps behind him, crowding him in the direction of the fancyroom; where he knows Nandor will be dramatically strung out on the couch by now, whining something or other for the pang of hunger in his gut.

"Oh, hey! I'm-" He doesn't even get to finish his sentence. Usually, Nandor will hypnotize them, or at least let them get a few words out before he has Guillermo guiding them over. But he watches from the doorframe as Nandor lunges at once, tackles him, even. He unhinges his jaw and descends upon the neck of this unsuspecting man, and Guillermo simply watches. He watches while the terrified spark in the man's eyes fizzles out, as Nandor's gaping maw clenches and unclenches until the neck held within it threatens to snap. Suddenly, he rears his head back and makes piercing, almost intrusive eye contact with Guillermo.

"Hold his head back."

Guillermo shudders. And then he does as he's told. He makes his way across the room quickly and with all the obedience of a well trained dog, at once gripping the corpse's hair and yanking his head back to allow his master better access to the yielding throat. It's been torn halfway to shreds, now, like tissue paper under scissors in one clean glide.

Nandor buries his head back into the crook of the man's neck, seeking out new pressure points to drink his fill from as if searching for blank spots to plant hickeys on a lover. The man's throat has been fucking mauled, the spray of blood and gore coating Guillermo's hands and wrists as he maintains his vice grip on the body's hair, his other hand supporting Nandor's hold on the man's waist.

When Nandor at last finishes, he pries his teeth out from how deeply they've lodged into the flesh of his victim. His eyes are stained dark with something primal and mindless, and his face is smeared and dripping with the lifeblood of a helpless stranger. "He was bitter."

"...That kind usually are." He mutters, meek, still trying to collect his breath. He doesn't have it in him to explain the concept of involuntary celibacy to Nandor, even if he wasn't reeling from the events of the past fifteen minutes. "Sorry."

"I need a bath." Nandor grins, dropping the body into a lifeless, desecrated heap, and then turns on his heel and strides out with a rejuvenated skip in his step.

Guillermo stares at the mutilated frame laying twisted on the carpet. He'll have to clean that later. He watches Nandor's retreating form, catches his eye on the endless bitemarks coating what's left of this thing, and he tries to shake the dawning feeling of jealousy.

[softykooky]

Sanctuary: Three

summary: there is no longer a light at the end of the tunnel, you think. only people who haven’t been hurt can afford such a luxury as wishful thinking. but have you turned away before seeing that there is a glimmer. A teeny tiny, minuscule speck of light. 5.6k words. 

genre: mafia au, angst, eventual ot7 x reader

warnings: physical/verbal abuse (not from the members), dysfunctional and toxic family dynamics, violence, just big sadness

author’s note: here it is!! thank you for all your kind words, again. it never goes unappreciated. apologies for all the plot holes :( i would definitely consider rewriting this in the future to fix that. on a more important note, please continue supporting the BLM movement by anything that you can do. whether it is donations, protesting, streaming videos, or educating others, no good deed is gone wasted. 

one, two

        In the brief time you’ve spent at their mansion, you’ve come to remember a few things. Taehyung snores. Loud and unapologetically so. Jungkook mumbles random words in his sleep, sometimes about cookies and other times about which kind of handgun has the least kickback. Jimin dyes his hair way too often. Yoongi spends too much time online shopping on the internet. Jin detests peanuts but loves peanut butter. Hoseok does not like you. Namjoon is secretly a big softie. In another timeline or life, you’d like to think you guys would be really close friends.

       “Namjoon, please,” the desperation melted off your every word as the guard pulled you through the house by your arm. He only stared back at you quizzically. 

       “Since you’ve been here, you’ve refused to tell us why it is that you ran away. Seems to me like even with all this time, you haven’t been able to come up with a solid excuse for your hissy fit.” 

You wanted to collapse.

       “Your father offered us his services and cooperation in exchange for your return.” Hoseok sounded from beside Namjoon. That’s all you were ever good for anyway. A trading pawn. A stepping stone. You scoffed.

       “You wouldn’t believe me now if I told you the truth, would you? Now that you’ve gotten your prize?” Your voice dripped in hurt and frustration.

       “I’m glad I could be of service.” You watched in satisfaction as Hoseok’s smirk slowly straightened into a calculating gaze, not looking back as you walked away.

       You allowed the guards to walk you up the stairs. Jungkook made his presence known from the top, boring into your eyes with the sheer intensity of a man scorned.

       “Jungkook I-” 

       “Save it, your highness.” You recoiled at the poison of his words. You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that this whole time, while you were thinking Jungkook was your friend he just saw you as his prisoner. If he noticed the tears that welled in your eyes, he did not let it affect the stone cold expression meant for you. Yoongi pretended to look past you as if you were not there. Like you were not living and breathing in front of his eyes. The rest of them watched from a distance, smugly relishing in the fact that their assumptions have been confirmed, yet melancholy to see you go. You could only swallow down the lump that had risen in your throat, trying not to throw up as the guards led you out to a black SUV. 

       You didn’t allow yourself to look back. Or to cry. To feel anything that was not utter self-hatred for not knowing better and trying to escape when you had the chance. 

       “Goodbye, Y/N. I hope we’ll never have to meet each other again.” Namjoon spoke from behind you. You heaved a long breath.

       “Thank you for everything, Namjoon”, you murmured quietly. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk away. You had thanked him. You thanked him for kidnapping you, keeping you hostage, and now returning you back to the family that you had desperately wanted to avoid for unknown reasons. His brows knitted in confusion, eyes still following your silhouette through the window of the car as it drove away. 

       “Jimin”, Namjoon addressed as he walked back into the house and plopped himself down at the dining table all of them had been sitting around. He noticed the way Jungkook’s eyes seemed to stick on the door you had just walked out of, sadness drooping his shoulders. 

       “Were you able to find anything on the ambassador?” 

       Jimin shook his head. “No. Nothing. He’s clean. Nothing more than a few parking tickets. If there was anything though, he probably had it scrubbed from police records.” 

       “Check it again.” 

       Namjoon couldn’t figure it out. The little pit in the bottom of his stomach that kept trying to bring him back to your situation. Like it was telling him that something was wrong. He only sighed, standing up and tucking your manila folder into the filing case. Now just another face among many.

       The security guard had been glancing at you a few times too many from the rear view window now, as he drove you to your imminent doom. You didn’t know why you couldn’t not be spineless for once in your life. You didn’t know why you just let these things happen to you, but the fight you used to have has disappeared a long time ago. 

       “Ms. Yoo. Your father is on the line for you.” Your knees began to shake at the mention of your father. You hesitantly took the phone out of the agent’s hand, taking a minute to breathe before holding it up to your ear. You didn’t say a word, but you knew he knew you were listening.

       “Y/N. How lovely it is to talk to you again, my daughter.” His voice made you want to vomit over the leather cushions of the SUV. You kept silent, only heavily breathing into the microphone.

       “We’ve missed you terribly. Especially Soyeon.” Your sister. 

       “Dad...please. Don’t do anything to her.” You tried to steel your voice in the presence of your father, but the quiver was impossible to not notice. 

       “I would never Y/N. I would never make her pay the price for your insolence.” He sneered into the microphone, tone still dangerously calm and subdued. Deep down, you knew that the most your father had ever done to Soyeon was some strict discipline and a few harsh words. Most of the time, he ignored her. It seemed like he only had resentment for you. His firstborn and heir. 

       “Well, we’ll talk more when you get home, Y/N. Maybe you can tell me about everything you’ve been up to.” You internally winced as he emphasized the word “talk”. Both of you knew what that meant and you could practically feel the sole of his dress shoes already digging into the plane of your stomach. He hung up without another word. You stared out the window as the car drove over a bridge, wondering what it would be like if you ever had the courage to tell the world. About your life. Your father. Everything. Would they believe you? Or would they trust the word of a rich and powerful man like your father, as the boys had done? Your heart twinged at the remembrance of the men you had gotten to know for that short period of time. You wondered if they would ever think about you in the future, even if they all thought you were a brat with no good intentions. Perhaps Namjoon was right. Perhaps it would be better if you all never met again. 

       “We’ve arrived.” Your heart dropped to your stomach at his words. He escorted you out of the car. More gently than Yoongi had the first night you met them all, and you remembered the loyalty these men had to your father. You would never be able to run now, even if you tried. You were led up to a familiar cobblestone walkway. In through familiar Venetian double doors your mother had insisted were necessary. Familiar marbled tiles under your shoes. Familiar baccarat crystal chandelier strung over the foyer that cast the room in a light that was too harsh for your liking. And the familiar face of your father staring back at you, lips curved in a gentle smile that you knew held more darkness than he would ever show. 

       “My darling!” He embraced you in his arms as your tears disobeyed your will and trailed down the curve of your cheek. You fisted your hands at your sides. 

       “I’ve been so worried about you”, he whispered into your ear, breath fanning against the side of your neck. How a cold breath could come from a person, you did not know. But it was becoming increasingly clear to you that your father was losing his sense of humanity in front of your eyes. That he was no longer the man you once knew and loved. 

       He waved away the last of the security guards out of the house, still trapping you in his hold. Like a conniving snake to an innocent mouse. You found yourself regretting every decision you had made prior to this. Maybe if you had told Namjoon the truth, you wouldn’t be standing here, a mere weak princess in front of a fire-breathing dragon. Maybe if you told Jimin that your father had caused those ugly scars on your back. The front door closed with a gentle click, and the doting facade your father had masked on morphed into the expression of repugnance you knew all too well.

       You heard the slap before you felt it. The discordant clash of skin on skin that rung through the space of the foyer. Your mother did always say the house had great acoustics. The force knocked you into the ground, hands coming out to soften the fall as your body crumpled against the cool marble. It hurt. Like always. A familiar pain that reminded you only of all the things you had ever done wrong. All the flaws that your father drilled into your head until you could not remember anything that was good about yourself. 

       “Do you know how difficult it’s been for me to keep the press at bay?” He spoke darkly, eyes raking over your figure in satisfaction as you laid still on the floor. 

       “Do you know how much money I’ve spent to shut down the rumors that you had run away?” He knelt down to you, emphasizing each word as you tried to look anywhere but at him. Tried to focus on anything but the pain on your skin and in your heart. 

       Don’t speak, Y/N, he’ll only hurt you more. 

       “Fucking useless, you know that Y/N?” He laughed humorlessly. You could hear the click of his shoes as he circled around you, like a predator to its prey. A father to his daughter. You hoped to god they were not steel-toed. He reached down and clumped a fist into your hair, forcing you upright as you shrieked at the pain in your scalp, every cell in your body urging you to fight back when you knew that would never end well for you. He slapped you again, this time forcing you to stay sitting as the momentum whipped your head to the side.

       “Sometimes I wish you never fucking existed.” 

       Over the years, you have learned to build resistance to the physical pain. You learned how to get bloodstains out of your clothes. How to double wrap an ice pack so that it doesn’t melt so easily against your body heat. How to not feel your conscious when your father took his anger out on you. But you had never quite gotten the hang of not letting each word bite you to your core until you believed what he said to be the truth. You never learned to push away the pain each remark and insult would ignite in the back of your chest. 

       Yeah, me too. 

       You laid there as his fists pelted down on you relentlessly, like cold rain to a cement sidewalk. You shrieked each time his foot made contact with your stomach. You could feel the blood dripping down your nose, your forehead, your arms, your cheeks. Your father was a fan of accessorizing after all, the rings on his fingers was testament. You absorbed every affront and denigration he shot at you, like a sponge to water, staring ahead into space and wondering if there was such a thing as feeling so much pain that one becomes numb. 

       “Stop! you’re going to kill her.” Your eyes had been closed but you could recognize that voice from a mile away. Soyeon. Most of the time, she had just ignored the things your father did to you in fear of the same treatment. But she was here. The dark presence of your father disappeared overhead, and exhaustion and pain finally seeped into your bones. He was not hurting you anymore. You can let yourself succumb to sleep now. 

       There was one thing you were glad for though. 

       His shoes weren’t steel-toed after all. 

       You woke up with a gasp underneath a familiar ceiling of a room that you knew all too well. The numbing you had forced yourself to go under earlier had clearly worn off, and you could practically feel every bruise and wound as if they were being created then and there. The door opened slowly to reveal Soyeon wielding a glass of water. She froze in her step.

       “Hi Soyeon-ie”, you smiled, trying not to grimace at the pain of stretching your face muscles. Imagine your surprise when Soyeon’s expression twisted in anger.

       “How could you run away. Do you know how much I had to deal with Dad getting angry while you were gone?” 

       Soyeon’s own selfishness stunned you into silence. You knew he would never hurt her, it always had been just you. She was blaming you for trying to get away from him. 

       “You know why I ran away.” You casted your eyes elsewhere, too hurt and betrayed to even look at your own sister. It was selfish of you to leave her behind, yes. You wanted to take her with you, but you knew she was safe there. You knew she would have been fine. 

       “You left me Y/N. I didn’t know if you’d come back or if I’d ever see you again.” She set the glass of water down on your nightstand, sitting at the foot of your bed. You wanted to stay angry at her. At her consideration for only herself and how she suddenly seemed to forget all the hurt that your father puts you through. But you had gotten so used to apologizing for mistakes you never made. Blaming yourself for things you could not control. 

       “I’m sorry, Soyeon”, you whispered in the quiet of the room. 

       “But I’m here now. And it looks like I won’t be leaving in the near future.” Your words were masked in sadness. You had been so close to freedom, you could almost taste it. But you should’ve known that no matter where you go, your father always had a chain tied around your ankle, yanking you back to this life. Soyeon’s face lit up at your statement.

       “Good! Well, mom’s in the Bahamas currently with some friends. Maybe I’ll take you shopping tomorrow? A new store just opened in Myeongdong!” 

       You gave her a smile. One that didn’t reach your eyes, but it wasn’t like Soyeon would notice. This was how it always went. She would block it out of her consciousness, pretending that your family was perfect and that nothing ever went wrong. She would pretend like you never got hurt, and moved on to the next topic. You always complied because Soyeon seemed happy. And that’s all you’ve ever wanted for her. 

       “Yeah. Sounds great, Soyeon-ie.” You had never wanted to disappear more in your entire life. 

       “Fantastic! Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Maybe later you can tell me about where you’ve been all this time.” She spoke cheerfully, smile falling slightly as the collar of your shirt drooped and revealed a blackening bruise on your decollete. Soyeon reached over and pulled it up, smiling once again now that it was out of sight, and out of mind. Not for you, though. You could still feel it. Then she left, closing the door gently behind her and leaving a broken you, holding the pieces of yourself together in a home you so badly wanted to get away from. 

        You won’t tell her about them, you think. You won’t tell her about Jungkook’s poetry book, Jimin’s care about your scars or Taehyung’s video games that you could hear across the thick wall. You won’t tell her about how Namjoon likes to pretend he’s got it all together but at heart, he seems like just another boy. You won’t tell her about Yoongi’s walks or Jin’s breakfast foods or how Hoseok folds your clothes neatly when he drops them off. And you definitely will not admit to yourself that you miss the people that captured you and sent you back here. You were their prisoner. Nothing more, and nothing less. 

       Jimin hasn’t slept in 48 hours. 

       For the first 24, it was because Namjoon assigned him to take care of all their new recruits, and he spent the day with a permanent frown etched on his face because most of them didn’t know how to hold a gun correctly. For the next 24, though, he’s been thinking about you. Jimin had grown used to your presence in the house, they all have. Though you were strangers, it seemed your souls naturally gravitated towards one another. Like magnets that were too timid to approach, too timid to open the bedroom door. More importantly, he’s been thinking about your father, and why you were just so dead set on running away. 

       He whips out from under his bed sheets, pushing away the headache and willing his eyelids to just remain open for a little longer. There must be something he’s missing about your family. Something small, or anything at all. But as ambassador, his records are sparkling clean, no trace of foul play or any significant offense at all. Even the tabloids could not dig anything up on the man. He seemed to be invincible. 

       He walks briskly to Taehyung’s office, where the man himself is planted in a spinny chair, pretending to do work and playing Pubg on his wall of monitors. Jimin coughs with amusement, causing Taehyung to almost jump out of his skin.

       “You scared the shit out of me, you dummy.” He gasps dramatically, hand held to his chest as he exasperatedly stares at Jimin. 

       “Is that how you talk to your hyung?” Jimin slaps him upside the head.

       “Anyway, I’ve got a favor to ask you. Can you try scrubbing the ambassador’s files again? Something just doesn’t feel right with me.” Taehyung groans at Jimin’s request, dejectedly turning off his game. 

       “I’ve gone through his profile so many times. There’s nothing, hyung. Not even a speck. I liked Y/N too, and I thought she was better than that but maybe we just gave her too much credit.” Taehyung did enjoy her presence. He always turned his game volume up a little too loud to hear an annoyed groan coming from the room next to him, just to know that she was there. She had always been kind, but after everything, Y/N was a different person than he thought. 

       “Just one more time, Tae? There has to be something”, Jimin pleads. “And besides, if you have time to play your video games you have time to do this.”

       “Yeah, yeah, whatever I’ll do it. Just get some sleep, you look like death.” Taehyung hums, putting his headset back on and turning to his multiple computers. Jimin sighs contently, yet still dissatisfied, feeling like he’s missing a piece of a puzzle he so desperately wants to solve. He pats Taehyung on the shoulders before turning around and leaving for his room. That night, Jimin is able to lie down in a comfortable bed. Stare at the ceiling he sees every time before he goes to sleep. He plugs in his phone and cozies up with a pillow, like he does every night. But this night, he drifts with the thought of you behind his eyelids. 

       Taehyung has no idea why Jimin has made him go over records of the ambassador so many times. Sure, the ambassador wasn’t someone he was overly fond of, he had made business for them difficult in the past with his high government position. But it seemed like Jimin wanted to find something incriminating, like he had a hunch there was something there. So he sifts through the press pictures. Sifts over the embassy camera feed. Sifts over his text messages, and bank statements, and even his restaurant ord-

       Wait.

       His bank statements. 

       There’s something there that Taehyung hadn’t seen before. It’s so small, he must’ve missed it in passing but it’s a breadcrumb. There’s a bill that had been paid through an offshore bank account, so that any normal audit would not be able to trace it back to the ambassador. Luckily for Taehyung, he’s the most brilliant hacker in the eastern hemisphere...or so he likes to believe. The bill is withdrawing a couple thousand dollars, but doesn’t state who the recipient is to. In a minute or two and obnoxious keyboard clicks, Taehyung finds that the ambassador has wire transferred nearly $10,000 to a hospital in the Seoul area. 

       Damn. Just hospital bills. Albeit offensively high hospital bills. Taehyung leans back in his seat in defeat, nearly doubling over as he realizes the time. He curses himself when he hears birds chirping outside, already hearing Hoseok’s nagging voice for not getting enough sleep. He hauls himself to the couch in his office and sleeps the night away, records of the ambassador forgotten on his computer screen.

       “Tae, get your ass up, it’s 3 in the afternoon”, Jungkook nudges Taehyung awake, almost consorting to kneeing him the balls since he refuses to even open an eye. He groans before finally agreeing to sit up. Taehyung finds himself in his office, Jungkook annoyedly sitting beside him with Jimin and Jin sitting in the meeting space outside. 

       “Have you found anything?” Jimin sounds from his seat around the briefing table. 

       “No, I haven’t. Like the last 5 times you asked me to do it.” Taehyung pauses in his half-asleep words, sitting up and eyes shooting wide.

       “Although there was something weird I hadn’t noticed before.” He leaves his office and sits at the table alongside Jin and Jimin.

       “There was a hospital bill for 10k. Wired through an offshore account, probably a Cayman or a Swiss. It didn’t show up on his public statements. It looked like he wanted to hide it.” Thinking back to it now, Taehyung looks like an idiot for not pursuing this breadcrumb trail and choosing to sleep instead. Jimin continues looking at him expectantly.

       “That was all, though. I traced it back to the recipient and it was the Asan Medical Center”, Taehyung trails off, mind still knitted in confusion as to what this could be leading to. Jungkook makes his appearance from the other room. 

       “What if it’s not the ambassador’s records we should be diving deeper into?” Jungkook says quietly in the tense atmosphere of the meeting room.

       “What if it’s Y/N’s?” A daunting realization settles upon the four boys. If this breadcrumb trail leads to what they suspect it does, then they may have just made the biggest mistake of their career. Staring at each other in the basement of their headquarters marks the first time the boys hoped to god that their hunch was going to be wrong. 

       “NAMJOON!” Jimin bellows as he nearly sprints from the basement to the upper level to Namjoon’s office. The leader could hear the boy even from down the hall, his clumbering footsteps reminding Namjoon how much he paid for that expensive hardwood flooring. The door swings open to reveal a panting Jimin, clutching a familiar manila folder in his hand. He slams the folder onto his desk. 

       “Y/N’s folder is here because…..why?” 

       “We’ve been trying to dig up dirt in the wrong place. Our initial run-through of her profile hadn’t even revealed this. This was covered up with all kinds of firewalls.” Jimin’s hands are shaking at their newfound information. Namjoon seems to be in a permanent state of confusion, staring at Jimin as if he had grown two heads and a tail and is now speaking to him in another language. 

       “Slow down, Jimin-ah. Take it from the beginning.” Namjoon stops his incessant rambling and muttering. 

       “Okay, okay. So you told me to take another check through the ambassador’s profile right? So naturally, I passed the workload to Taehyung.” Namjoon snorts at his confession, far versed in the boys’ habits to know that Jimin always made Taehyung do tasks he did not have energy for.

       “We must have missed it all the times before. Our dear friend the ambassador made a transaction through an offshore Cayman account, wire transferring $10,000 to Asan Medical Center in the Seoul area.” 

       Namjoon sits up straighter in his seat and leans over the table, eyes locking into Jimin’s with newfound intensity.

       “There’s no reason why he would for himself. We’ve browsed through all of his public appearances over the past year and he shows no sign of any injury or need for hospitalization with that high a bill.” Jimin runs his hands through his hair in frustration. 

       “So Jungkook suggested we dive deeper into Y/N’s profile instead. Maybe we missed something like last time too. So we did, and...” He pauses.

       “What, Jimin? Spit it out.” Namjoon’s patience and anticipation has run thin.

       “In the past years, Y/N’s been hospitalized for a total of 3 times. At Asan Medical Center.” The air in the room seems to drop to sub zero degrees as Namjoon and Jimin work to connect the dots. 

       “Taehyung looked into her hospital records, and it took him more than 10 minutes.” The statement shocks Namjoon, as all of them knew Taehyung could dig up dirt on a person in mere seconds. 

       “On the first visit, Y/N came in unconscious with multiple head and body contusions, fractured ribs, a concussion, and a broken collarbone. She had to get surgery. Jin suspects the records were so buried because someone must have bribed the hospital to keep it hidden. There’s one person involved that has that kind of money and power.” Namjoon’s face pales at the realization. He had a hunch from the beginning, and he knew he should’ve just listened to it. Now he may have just sent you off to your death with you thinking they all hated you. 

       “So what you’re saying is Y/N’s father…” Namjoon can’t bring himself to complete his sentence.

       “What I’m saying is Y/N’s father seems to be deliberately covering up these hospital records unnecessarily well if it were just an accidental injury. There’s no clear link to domestic abuse, but…well, you’ve seen the way she is.” Jimin wants to knock himself upside the head for not seeing the clear signs right in front of his eyes. The way you flinched at every sudden movement. The way you refused to tell them anything about why you ran away. Maybe this whole time, you had been trying to protect your bastard father for god knows what reason. The two breathe in the silence of Namjoon’s office as the leader thinks it over, mind muddling with all the new information and trying to find a course of action. 

       “Tell Taehyung to hack into the security cameras of the ambassador’s house in Seongbuk-dong.” 

       For the time being, your father has cut off your access to a cell phone and other communication devices. You were to remain with Soyeon for an indefinite time, and she is your chaperone for any endeavors outside the house. He hadn’t said a word to you since he left you unconscious on the floor not even 10 minutes after you stepped foot into the doorway. That’s how it always was. To your father, you ceased to exist other than when your family makes public appearances or when you mess up and he feels entitled to discipline you. Not that you could leave the house anyway. You could barely walk for extended times without feeling your chest cave in. 

       “Y/N! Mom’s home.” Soyeon cheerfully sounded from the bathroom as she dusted a generous coat of pink blush onto her cheeks. You continued staring at the wall, in the same position you had been in for hours. 

       Your mom has been a side character in your life. She was never in one place for long. Never too affectionate with you, only was there to look pretty and doting to your father, all the while pretending that your family was perfect in every sense. Even before your father changed, she never emphasized her duty as a mother to you. Soyeon helped you wobble to the family living room, where both your parents were situated on the same couch. You avoided your father’s gaze like the plague. 

       “Hi, Mom.” You managed a small smile for her. One that she returned before placing her attention back on her phone. If your mother noticed your injuries and bandages, she did not let it phase her expression for a single millisecond. You sighed quietly to yourself, wondering if things would turn out differently if your mother cared an ounce for you. 

       You spent the rest of the evening at the dinner table. You did your part, pushing around oven-roasted potatoes with your sterling silver fork and pretending that you were a normal family having a normal dinner. Your mother strategically angled the family dinner picture to hide your injuries, posting it onto her social media account with far too many heart emojis. Soyeon chattered away about her new sponsorship deals, the new clothes she bought, the new friends she’s made, and even what she had for breakfast. And your father, well, you were just too scared to even look his way to notice what he was doing. But you reckon he appreciated you keeping your mouth shut at the table. 

       As Soyeon talked on about the Maison Margiela boots she’s been dying to get her hands on, you found your mind drifting to a certain group of people. You wondered if they’ve thought about you since. If they had an ounce of remorse for sending you away, or even a sliver of longing. You wondered if they had enjoyed talking with you as you had with them, or had they let their presumptions completely tarnish your image. Were they eating well? Sleeping enough? 

       You picked at an oily asparagus. Hoping they would miss you was wishful thinking. You couldn’t afford to do that anymore. Last time you did, you got kidnapped by a gang that sent you straight back into the jaws of your father. 

       The boys couldn’t tear their eyes away from the large TV screen in the briefing room, reflecting the footage of the ambassador’s mansion foyer. The room had gone silent. Cold. The kind of cold that hits you in the gut like a sharp icicle. The kind of cold that stokes an icy blue fire. Their hearts sank in their chests.

       There you were. Getting beaten to a pulp by your father in your own home, with no security guards or maids around to see. You pushed back in the beginning, but the boys could almost physically see the fight leave your weak body as your monster of a father unleashed his hatred on you. They all wanted to throw up. Namjoon pushes away the tears that threaten to leave his eyes, turning back to the round table of boys who now had a new flame in their eyes.

       “I-I should have known.” He loses his breath at the words, nearly collapsing into his chair. 

       “I should have known someone like Y/N wouldn’t run away like that. I should’ve known there was a reason she didn’t want to tell us anything.” He buried his face in his hands, kicking himself for letting you go. 

       “So those hospital bills….he covered them up because he caused her injuries.” Jungkook spoke out in the tense silence, not hiding his tear streaked face as his eyes remained glued on the TV screen. He would make himself watch it. For you, and the hurt he’s put you through. 

       “And the scars on her back.” Jimin trails off, fists clenched in anger at the mere thought of your father. 

       It was Hoseok, though, that actually bolted out of the room and heaved the contents of his stomach into a toilet bowl. How would he face you ever again? After all that he’s said and done. After all the assumptions he made about your character without even giving you time to breathe and create a response. Hoseok had just held this animosity against people of your stature. People like your father and your mother who grew up in money, and uses it to remain in power. He, alongside the 6 other boys, had fostered their own success from scraps and dirt. Now you were paying for their mistakes in ways that none of them wanted to even think about. 

       “Namjoon. We have to go save her.” Jin pipes up. They all heard the quiver in his voice and caught sight of the shaking in his hands as he looked towards the leader. 

       No, they wouldn’t just save you. They would get you justice. They would dismantle your father and maybe kill him while they were at it. This would be the price for their mistakes against you. As he looks back at his brothers, figures slumped in regret and shame, he wonders if you’ll be able to forgive them. Despite the short time, they had all bonded with you in some way or other. 

       “Yoongi, could you round up our retrieval team?” Namjoon’s face steels as he faces them, expression almost dead if it weren’t for the complete wrath that burned in his eyes. 

       “I’ve been meaning to visit Seongbuk-dong. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”

taglist:  @pinkyhim​, @deolly​,  @loveyoongles​​, @drunkzseok​, @hope122598​, @uwunamjoon​, @nomimits7​, @bubblebunnylia​, @aquaalanah , @juliie-ocha , @daydreambrliever​, @btsbabby​​, @rosiethefairy​, @blank-et-noir , @tiredjedi , @myheartstaysinkorea 

[leossmoonn]

Training Session [Peter Parker]

masterlist 

pairing - peter parker x fem!stark’s daughter!reader

type - fluff

note - hope you enjoy! also idk ANYTHING about martial arts or combat fighting so lol dont take i wrote too seriously

summary - peter finds out mr. stark has a daughter and you two are put together for a training session.

warnings - lil suggestive

————

*gif isnt mine*

“How do you like it?” Sam asked.

You turned to the mirror, eyes wide and mouth agape, admiring your new suit.

“This is awesome!” You squealed.

Sam, Tony, and Nat had deisgned a new suit for you. After your last battle, your suit had been torn to shreds. It had been months since you were able to go out in the field and you’d be anxious to fight crime. Now that you had your new suit, you were now able to fight crime.

You were named Fox. You were sly, witty, and and charming. Not just in your moves, but your personality, too. You had been working alongside your dad, Iron Man, for 7 years. You were 10 when you started, obviously too young to actually be fighting, but you were his right hand woman at all times. You helped him with his suit, team, and plans on how to deal with missions.

Your suit was a dark orange body suit, much like Nat’s. You had fingerless gloves, black combat boots, and an orange mask that went around your eyes. You had a black stripe down your suit’s back, much like a fox’s. You also had a utility belt with a grapling hook, taser, and pepper spray — you could never be too careful in the city. You and Tony tried hard to keep your identity safe, especially since you were still in high school.

“Do you think we need to add anything?” Tony asked.

“Can I get rockets on the bottoms on my shoes like you?” You asked.

Tony chuckled, “We’d have to change the whole material of your suit, cupcake. You don’t like metal, remember?”

You grumbled, “Yeah, yeah. Well, I love it! Thank you guys so much.” You turned to them with a big smile.

“No problem, babe,” Nat smiled. “You have training with me today at five.”

You nodded, “Noted.”

“There will be someone else joining you in trianing today,” Tony said.

“Who? Is it Bucky?” You asked. “No, he’s new,” Tony said.

“Wow, that gives me a lot. Who is it?” You pressed. 

“You’ll see. He’s actually pretty good for just starting out,” Sam smirked. 

You sighed, knowing they were gonna make it a surprise. 

“Well, I can’t wait!” You faked enthusiasm. You didn’t like surprises. 

You went off and up to your room, changing out of your suit and into running shorts and a t-shirt. You decided to take a nap before your training.

You woke up 2 hours later, still as exhausted as before. You filled up your water bottle before going into the gym. You saw Nat and a brunette boy. He wasn’t too much taller and by the back of his head, he didn’t look too much older.

“Hey, Nat,” you greeted as you walked in and set your water bottle near the mat. 

“Hey, Y/n! This is our new recruit, Peter Parker. You probably know him as Spider-Man,” Nat smiled. Peter turned around and his eyes widened. 

His heart started to race and his face turned red as he looked over you. Your eyes were bright and lively, your smile being the most gorgeous smile he’d ever seen. Your skin flawless and you had no makeup on, but you still looked beautiful. 

“Hi,” you smiled. “I’m Y/n Stark,” you held out your hand. 

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but the only sound that came out was a squeak. Nat and you chuckled at his shock. 

“H-hi. I’m Parker. No, Pe-Peter,” he stuttered and shook your hand. 

“Not used to meeting important people, huh?” You smirked. 

“Ye-yeah, but also pretty people,” he blurted. His face turned a darker shade of red and he slapped his mad over his mouth. 

The action made Nat giggle and his words made flustered as well.

“Thank you, Peter,” you said shyly and looked down at your shoes. 

“Ready to get to work, love birds?” Nat teased. 

You rolled your eyes and nodded. You took a long sip of water.

“We are gonna start on the treadmill, do some weights, and I’m gonna teach you some combat moves,” Nat instructed. 

You and Peter nodded and got up on the treadmills. 

“One mile today. Remember to pace yourself. If you get tired, don’t be afraid to slow down a little,” Nat said. 

You started the treadmill at 3.5 so you can warm up for a few minutes before running. You took a small sip of your water as you sped-walked. You looked over and saw Peter already running his mile. Your brows cocked upwards as you saw him running at 6.0 speed.

You worked your way up to 6.0 speed, finishing your mile in 6 minutes. Peter, however, finished 3 minutes after you. 

“I said pace yourself, kid,” Nat said. 

Peter blushed again and nodded. 

“Next time, follow Y/n’s lead. She paces herself nicely,” Nat said while you took a drink of water. 

“Thanks, Nat. I have been doing this for a long time,” you smiled. 

“How long? Are you a superhero?” Peter asked. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “I’ve been helping my dad since I was 10. I’ve been a superhero for 3 years.”

“What’s your superhero name?” Peter asked. 

“Fox.”

“Oh, my God! Really? I-I am such a big fan. You were what actually inspired me to become Spider-Man. I think it’s so cool how you save people and fight off bad guys without any superpowers,” Peter gushed. 

“Thank you, Pete,” you giggled at his excitement. 

“You’re welcome. Wow, this is so cool. I am working with Fox, Iron Man, Black Widow,” Peter smiled. 

“You’re lucky, kid,” Nat smiled and patted his back. “Okay, why don’t you all stretch. Peter, have you ever benched before?” 

Peter shook his head while stretching his hamstrings. 

“Okay, we’ll start you out with 45 pounds. If that’s too light, we’ll bump it up to 50,” Nat said and put the weights on the bar. “Y/n, what do you wanna do today?”

“Uh, I’ll do a leg and glute day today. My arms need a break,” you said. 

“Rock and roll, then. I’ll spot you, Parker,” Nat said. Peter went to bench press while you went to the kickback machine. 

You and Peter worked in weights for about an hour. You did a variety of workouts while Peter mainly focused on how to use each machine and which would be most beneficial for him. 

“Okay. Grab a drink, use the bathroom, whatever you need before we do some fighting,” Nat said. 

You both went to do your things before you were going to fight. You came back in the gym, stretching your arms while walking in.

“Ready to work, Pete?” You asked the boy and patted his back. He nodded and choked on his water when he looked up at you

You changed our of your shorts and t-shirt to black biker shorts and a grey sports bra. The biker shorts hugged your body perfectly and the top of your breats showed, making Peter stare.

You noticed and smirked. “My eyes are up here, kid.”

His eyes immediately shot up and his face blushed for what seemed like the 100th time today.

“I am so sorry. I just don’t see girls in bras, like, ever. In gym class we all wear t-shirts, which makes sense. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I swear I’m not a prevert or anything, you just look really uh... nice? I—”

Nat and you turned to each other, amusement played on your faces. You turned back to the rambling boy.

“It’s okay, Peter. I get it, boobs are nice to look at. Especially when you’re a hormonal, almost always horny, teenage boy,” you teased.

“I’m not horny!” He claimed, embarrassing himself more.

“Don’t worry, I never assumed you were. I was just speaking generally,” you smiled.

“Oh,” he said and he looked down sheepishly.

“No worries. Now, let’s get goin’,” you said.

Peter nodded and followed you to the mat. 

“So, we are going to practice some basic moves. Y/n, I know you already know them, but there is nothing wrong with reviewing,” Nat said. 

You both nodded, waiting for further instruction.

“So, the first one is simple, yet very dangerous. It’s also fairly easy, in my opinion. It’s called the rear neck choke,” Nat said. “Peter, you’re gonna stand behind Y/n and put your arm around her neck.”

Peter nodded and awkwardly stood behind you. Your butt brushed against his crotch, making him cough awkwardly. He put his arm around your neck. The skin-to-skin contact made your heart flutter. You cleared your throat, too, breathing deeply to try and slow your heart rate.

“Good. Now, you basically just squeeze until the person passes out. Y/n, why don’t you demenstrate the next move,” Nat said.

You smiled and took ahold of Peter’s arm. You then crouched down and pulled him over your head. You flipped him over on the mat.

“Ow,” he whined as he fell. He looked up at you and couldn’t help but smile. You stood tall, hands on your hips and a smile on your face.

“Now, Peter, what you can do when she does that is hook your legs on her ankles and pull so she looses balance. You then can reach for her ankle and throw her across the room. But, we arent going to do that. What you can do, though, is do the ankle bit I told you. Then you can pin her down,” Nat explained.

Peter looked at you two hesitantly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Y/n chuckled, “It’s all right. You won’t hurt me that bad, I promise.”

Peter nodded and did as he was told. He hooked his feet over your ankle and jerked you so your feet gave out beneth you. He then got up quickly to pin you down, but you were quicker.

You rolled over and pinned him down instead. Your left hand held his wrists above his head while your right held down his shoulder. Your legs went around his waist and squeezed slightly to make sure he wouldn’t move. Your head leaned down to his, a triumphant smile resting on your lips.

“W-wha-” Peter was at a loss for words. Not just because you beat him, but how close you two were.

He breathed in deeply, catching a whiff of your scent. You smelled like cherries and vanilla. Your skin was smooth, clear, and glowing from the sheer film of sweat on your face. You looked like an angel to him, nonetheless.

“And that is why you gotta be faster, Parker. But you’ll learn in time. You’re already pretty good on the field by yourself,” Nat said.

Peter nodded. You got up off of him and helped him up.

“Wanna try that again? I promise I won’t do that again,” you suggested.

“Sure,” Peter nodded and laid back on the mat.

He hooked onto your ankle again. As you promised, you let him pin you down. You watched the way he moved. He was swift and fast. The way his muscles flexed when he grabbed your wrist made your stomach flip.

He got on top of you, pinning both your wrists like you did to him. His free hand went to the side of your face, helping him support himself so he wouldn’t be laying directly on top of you.

Your heart rate quickened once more and you felt like it was hard to breathe. A few strands of his hair were hanging down from his head and he had sweat glistening on his forehead. His honey-brown eyes was something you found yourself getting lost in quickly. He was so handsome.

“Uh... Y/n?” Peter muttered, catching your attention.

You blinked rapidly and looked away in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he gave you a friendly smile and got off of you.

“Okay, water break. You two practice those few moves a few more times,” Nat said.

You got up and took a big sip of your water bottle. You then got back to training with Peter. He was a fast learner and almost every time pinned you down. You, however, were slightly faster.

Each time you got on top of him, Peter couldn’t help the butterflies in his stomach. He’d never been this close to a girl before.

Thirty minutes later and the session was over.

“Good job, you two. Next time we’ll get into more moves involving punching and such. See you later, kiddos,” Nat smiled at you two. She left the gym and you turned to Peter.

“It was nice meeting you, Pete. Maybe we can hang out outside of training?” You suggested.

Peter’s eyes lit up and he nodded excitedly.

“Y-yeah. I’d like that.”

“Great. Give me your number next time. See you, Spidey,” you waved and left the gym.

Peter jumped up and down. He couldn’t wait to tell Ned.

————

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[theflashdriver]

Powerless (A Silvaze Oneshot)

Standing on a cloud, thirty-five-thousand feet above the world, was nothing new to Silver. This was the height that he would, on occasion, retreat to for privacy whenever the world beneath grew too chaotic. Usually, this space was beautiful and safe, a sanctuary just a half step closer to the warmth of the sun or the sparkling night sky. On this occasion however, his skyward territory became home to a monster.

Sprawled beneath him, stretching to the horizon in all directions, black-grey clouds convulsed like some kind of foreign sea. Above him though, the same blue sky he knew so well gleamed like a pool of pristine water with some manner of strange glowing treasure sailing aimlessly across its body. Despite the world he knew lay beneath him, despite the chaotic force that had so thoroughly scarred the planet’s crust this past two-hundred years, with this blue sky above, Silver knew that things could be made right. Things would be made right.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t hanging up here for some simple moral boost- the wind was chilling him far too much for that to be the case. He was watching the clouds to the east with an intensity harnessed for only one task; the task that was his life’s work. To his back was a vehicle he’d stolen from the world bellow; a lengthy black eight-wheeler and its trailer that had gone somewhat undamaged, secured in an underground parking lot. Though the vehicle wasn’t yet straining his psychic grip, he’d begin to feel its weight if he had to hold it for much longer. A beast would soon arrive from the east, he’d heard and seen it pass overhead thirty times a day at least. Though he knew that patience was key to this plan, a concoction of the cold, time and his own anticipation was gouging his resilience.

In an effort to forget what he felt, the psychic hedgehog shifted to a more meditative position, crossing his legs as he hovered and reflecting on the world bellow. It had surely been dark for generations now; the clouds had refused to part no matter the energy he put into his palms in an attempt to splay them. The ground, the buildings, the earth, the trees; nothing was exempt from the ferocious cracks and scars left by the titanic monster that soared at thirty-thousand feet. Though he was yet to see the monster’s true form, only the glimpse of a talon or the wavering of a wing, Silver had seen the devastation that travelled alongside it. Lightning would rain from the sky as though it was mere rain or hail but arrive with a combined force comparable to a meteor strike.

He’d walked a ground so crudely uneven, splattered and corrupted by constant melting, and watched as bolts of energy tore stone from buildings in terrifying blasts. It was no wonder that life in this world had been snuffed out, just as no one walked the streets, no plants grew on the surface. Even in searching catacombs and subway systems, the only pieces of infrastructure that remained relatively intact, they hadn’t found so much as a body. Nothing could survive here, not as long as this monster lingered in the air. Before their arrival, this world had surely gone untravelled since mere months or years after that creature appeared.

His partner was awaiting him on the surface, preparing for his success. The longer they lingered here with this thing tearing across the sky, laying siege to the land, the more danger they were in. The more danger she was in. This was their first time working one of these jobs together since they’d been separated, it’d been a lifetime ago, but their spent struggles still felt so fresh. If she got hurt doing this then he wasn’t sure what he’d-

A thundercrack tore Silver’s eyes open and threw his attention back to the horizon. Light had begun to spew from the clouds, dancing out of them in the form of countless blinding energy waves. The beast was approaching, the terrifying creature they’d watched and researched during their brief stay here- the bird of lightning was almost upon them. With each flap of its wing, with every squawk and flit, the bird dispensed a torrent of electricity that blasted and melted the ground bellow. Every pockmark and demolished building in the city could be traced back to this terrifying beast, it was the cause of this world’s calamity; it was responsible for billions of lives destroyed.

As it grew closer still, the count between the emergence of lighting and its thunderous caws was growing shorter and shorter. Silver began to mumble a stanza they’d come across in their research, “For the bird of lightning doth only shine… whilst it lingers amongst the clouds. It never nests nor roosts, not for the slightest moment …” He his teeth clench, he struggled to recall what came next, “For as long as it flies, it will survive. Heed its crackling caw and fear the flitting of it feathers, that armour that grants it permanence.”

With little data about the bird either existing or remaining, they had been forced to utilise ancient texts. He just hoped they were correct. As far as he and his partner understood, they had to knock down this bird to stand any chance of defeating it. He had to push this thing towards the earth, this monster that had flown uninterrupted for so very long. Silver finally began to move, the great vehicle hung just behind his head as he raced towards the cloud barrier with the intent to intercept. From up here, just as bellow, he couldn’t see the monster, but he could perfectly tell where it lay by the ferocious crack of thunder and the bright light that pierced even those grey clouds. Their trajectories were set to align.

Suddenly, the dancing bolts of white and blue light began to lurch towards him, bouncing off his psychic glow, but it soon became clear that he wasn’t their target. Though his glowing grasp was strong, it was now enduring a hail of lightning bolts the likes of which he’d never experienced. The truck was acting as a lightning rod. Silver grimaced mid-flight, if his grip slackened then this would all be for naught. The moment was here. He had to act!

His arms swung forward, bringing the great vehicle over his head and pushing it in front of him as a meteoric battering ram. The cloud layer was breached, a mighty thud briefly silenced the thunder. The bird of lightning was struck! But a single blow was not enough.

The vehicle’s rear now in front of him. Pushing with all his might, the hedgehog intended to make full use of his makeshift weapon. He roared as psychic power flew from him, aided only by gravity as he pushed both of them towards the ground. Lightning bolt after lightning bolt chased along and off of the lorry, bounding up against him and fizzling against his aura. With each passing second, each push and bead of sweat, they were approaching terminal velocity and the burnt earth bellow.

One of a dozen lightning bolts pierced through his barrier, catching his right shoulder. Seconds later, another one of fifty cut through again and scored the centre of his right palm. Every blast, every skyward surge of voltage, came with a wailing cacophony of thunder that echoed endlessly in Silver’s ears. With each passing moment, he could feel his own energy being sapped by his endeavour. Yet there was still every chance that his job was far from done.

He broke through the cloud layer, pushing the bird down ahead of him!

Now able to see the devastated ground below, the hedgehog shut his eyes and grit his teeth, “It makes no nest of iron, for that would ground its power,” He felt another shock course through his system, only half muted by his aura, “It secures no roost, for that would leave it exposed…” It was like the monster was fighting back, attempting to peel away his psychic grasp, “To all that dwell on the surface!”

His voice gave way to a scream as he felt tracing electricity continue to ricochet along metal, bouncing until it inevitably crashed into him. He could feel it now, the pain was gathering in one place; the voltage was dancing into the heavy metal bangles that were meant to protect his wrists from the kickback of his own power. His fur was surely being scorched, just as his power was being burnt up. Bit by bit and step by step, he was losing both his physical and mental might. He could see the flash on the underside of his eyelids, the coursing of ampers forced spasms from his arms and brought his grasp to weaken. He could feel it slipping, all of it, the truck from his grasp, the strength of his body and the consciousness from his mind.

That was until, in an instant, fresh pain vanished from Silver’s body; an anomaly accompanied by the sound of a cataclysmic smash.

In less than a moment, light faded from his surroundings. He felt a force like his palms slamming into the dirt after a million-mile fall and felt the associated tremor. For a moment, above the whining of his ears, Silver could only hear the crinkling of metal as he blindly forced the truck further downward. The noise was however quickly corrupted by the hoarse screaming of the beast beneath it. His eyes cracked open only to be filled with dust. By the time he’d blinked through it; Silver could see a skeletal bird, faintly crackling with light blue energy. Its wings were longer than those of any plane and its was beak looked sharper than any sword. Beneath his psychic might and the weight of the now mishappen truck however, the lightning bird had been pinned!

“Do it, Blaze! Do it now!” He screamed, feeling his grip begin to slacken as the creature shook in an attempted to rise.

From a set of stairs to the underground, like a pirouetting firework, Blaze shot free and lit their soot-covered surroundings. Immediately, she set upon the bird with all here flaming might, rushing in a circle around its form and throwing punch after kick after punch. The sound of thunderclaps resumed as the beast writhed, undoubtedly experiencing true pain for the first time in almost two hundred years. The soot from the world it had long burned with javelins of lightning was now cast into the air, higher than it.

Silver didn’t have so much as a moment to smile though. In the wake of the pain, the creature managed to force itself back onto its feet. Loosing another roar, the hedgehog reupped his psychic might and continued to push the burnt metal mass into the bird’s spine. He could see Blaze throwing attack after attack out, bones would crack and char, but they refused to full break. The monster began to shift and swivel, lashing at her whilst simultaneously trying to slide the weight off of its back and onto the ground.

Roaring again, welling psychic charge in his aching hands, Silver pushed with all his will. It was like attempting to halt a greased earthquake with a single finger, any of the lightning bird’s countless movements could have been the one to send the eight-wheeler up and into his frame. Rather than move and attempt to alleviate that chance, Silver knew what he had to do; he was wasting energy by spanning the air between himself and the vehicle.

Silver flew down even further, forcing his shielded hands against the truck’s rear door and channelling every ounce of both mental and physical energy into it. His effort was rewarded immediately, he felt the creature buckle beneath his power. It didn’t last for more than a moment, almost immediately the creature was pushing back. Silver felt his arms buckle, but his psychokinetic might was holding strong.

He couldn’t see her now, his vision was too filled, but every half second a burst of heat and the sight of orange light told him that Blaze was still battling the beast. Surely, she was injuring it? Time was becoming difficult to process under the strain of his effort, whether minutes or seconds were passing quickly became a blur.

He tried to call out, “Blaze! Is it-

A lurch from beneath forced his chest against the truck’s doors, he felt the monster’s shear strength rebuke him. Despite the pain and sudden shock, a familiar shout pulled him free from hesitation, “It’s working! Don’t give up, just a little more!”

As his eyes cracked open again, he found himself face to face with the latch of the truck’s freight. A plan formed in his mind; there was a way to gain more control of this gigantic mass, but it came at the cost of visibility. It took another lurch, one that almost threw him back into the air, for the hedgehog to act.

Only hesitating for a second longer, he undid the latch and fell into the depths of the truck’s empty cargo hold. He hit the back wall, immediately pushing his hands against it and maintaining his psychic strenth. Again, he felt the mass beneath him buckle and shift in response to the increased pressure. This time though, it didn’t manage to kick back!

Now closer, Silver could hear every strike Blaze made against the creature and its floundering attempts to rebuke her. He quickly picked up on a rhythm, Blaze would make two lighter attacks followed by a heavier one. With his power running dry, he knew he couldn’t keep this up for much longer. He probably only had the strength to handle one more big push or a handful of minutes; the former seemed far more appealing.

Silver shut his eyes and held his breath, trying to get an exact feel for the force and sound of Blaze’s blows. Consistently yet inconsistently the creature would wobble following its shift to attack her, likely strained by the weight pushing down on it. That was the moment to strike, that momentary waver was when the monster was at its weakest.

“Blaze! I’ve got one push left! Give it your all!” He shouted, almost certain that she couldn’t even hear him.

All of a sudden, rather than another attack, Silver felt the blows cease. The only sound was that of the lightning bird, screaming and thundering against the ground. He strained as he felt it successfully rise, managing to push back against him. A low buzz began to sound, static began to rumble beneath his fingers, what had happened to Bla-

The sound of roaring flames snuffed all other noise, save for the immediate screech of the bird beneath him. Silver felt a wave of heat immediately rise, shrouding his entire frame and threatening to destroy his power on its lonesome. Without a moment to spare, before his power could be fully stripped away, Silver heaved all the psychic weight he could muster downward.

Something beneath him, the be it the eight-wheeler’s engine or the beast, immediately crumpled. Regardless of what it was, the hedgehog continued to push, shunting his very soul against the wall in front of him. Mental brawn continued to prevail, despite the rising heat. Even as the walls on both sides of him caught alight, he pushed forward without an ounce of hesitation.

It took a second impact to make him to stop; that of his force finally meeting something truly immovable. Though he could not discern the cause of this collision but, still face down in the now burning cargo hold, he knew it would be the last. Though he tried to send one last shunt through the mass, the glow of his psychic powers refused to manifest. It was in the wake of that proof of his energy’s end that the truck itself tumbled. The shift of its landing sending him briefly into the air before tumbling to the floor. He landed on his back, staring now at a ceiling that he wasn’t sure was intended to be the ceiling.

It was only once his head had stopped spinning (though his ears were still ringing deaf), that Silver noticed the fire had vanished from his surroundings. Before he could even piece together what that change meant, a figure stepped into his vision. With a still inaudible snap of her fingers, firelight filled Blaze the cat’s hand. In contrast to how he surely appeared, the now princess of the Sol dimension was pristine and proper as ever as she knelt down next to him.

Struggling, he tried to speak, “So, we did it?”

He saw her lips move but, ears still ringing, he couldn’t make out a word. The princess looked as serious as ever, and she was saying a lot, but, beneath that veneer, Silver could still pick up on her small mannerism. The slightest smile on her lips, the softness of her ears and the time she was taking to clearly lecture him; those were a sign enough.

Regardless of how tired the hedgehog was, he felt a grin manifest on his face, “Wonderful, we did it… the future is saved again…”

Her hand extended in his direction. She was talking again; he could hear that much now, but the words were entirely unclear. The hedgehog was too tired to properly hear right now, let alone listen.

Silver winced as he raised his arm, catching sight of the presently dulled symbol on his hand. Though he successfully reached out, she did the entirety of the grasping. Pulled up by his wrist, the hedgehog managed to land on his soles but could not stand for long on them. He stumbled forward, ploughing directly into the feline and pushing her against the trailer’s wall. His head came to contact still-warm metal, positioned less than an inch from hers.

Awkwardly, he tried to stumble back but couldn’t shift his own feet, “S-Sorry, I’m a bit worn out…”

The psychic didn’t have to see her lips or hear her voice to know she’d called him naïve. He felt her grasp leave his as she shifted, wrapping an arm around his side before, so very casually, heaving him up by the legs. She’d held him like this on a handful of occasions, usually after fights like this, but the lithe feline’s strength never ceased to astonish him. Even after what had surely been a hard fight, she could manage this much while he was exhausted.

“Thank you,” He managed to mumble, feeling warmth radiate from her.

As she began to move, due mostly to his position, the hedgehog’s eyes locked upon her face. She was just as untouched as he first thought, her white muzzle entirely uninjured. The main change in her form was a thin layer of soot, marking both her fur and the deep purple overcoat she wore. Outside that, Silver could only see one thing of note; through the conflict, her ponytail had surely slackened. A single lock of her air had slipped free from the binding, cascading down to arrive just outside the gaze of her right eye. Had he the strength, he’d have adored reaching up to brush back that hanging strand.

Sunlight hailed down on them as they stepped free from the trailer. The black clouds seemed to have vanished, that or they’d transmogrified into mush smaller white ones. Blue sky hung above them, so perfectly regular, but Silver couldn’t bring himself to move his head and get a clearer view. Instead, he could see that the sun was perfectly framing the princess, granting her a halo and causing her shadow to cast over him. From that frame of reference, despite the soot, it was as though things had never been destroyed and the bird had never existed; it was as if they were already back in the past or her dimension.

“What a lovely view…” He hummed, unwilling to let himself so much as blink despite the weight of his eyelids.

A moment now passed, the ringing beginning to fade, Silver managed to pick up the end of her sentence, “…and you should have seen the sky clear; it was beautiful.”

“Maybe next time,” He rolled his head back against her shoulder, trying to find a comfortable position, “Can we go sleep now?”

“In a while, I need to patch you up first,” Her amber eyes flickered down to him, seriousness had lightly reclaimed her face, “You can hear me now then? If I didn’t know you better, I’d have thought you were dying.”

“But you do know me,” he mumbled, too tired to really think.

The look she gave him served to rouse him a little more, but it softened back to a mild stern glare as spoke again, “Regardless, I’m happy to see you in one piece, even if it’s a battered and fried one,” She resumed walking, a tutting tone still hanging in her voice, “It’ll be days before you can stand to use chaos control.”

“No, I’ll be fine tomorrow, I promise,” He insisted, eyelids still so very heavy.

“Oh, hush. You need rest,” She insisted, her tone again softening, “We’ll only attempt it when you’re fully healed, we don’t want to end up misplacing ourselves.”

That had happened a handful of times and was in fact the reason they’d reunited, “If you’re sure… it’s just that I promised Marine that we’d be back as soon as possible.”

That drew a snort from her, seeing the slightest smile on her lips put him even further at ease, “Well, we will be. As soon as possible is after you’re back at one hundred percent.”

He felt her turn and stop; reflexively, he followed her stare to the space ahead of them. The devastation caused by their fight with the creature was clear. Before them lay a giant bird skeleton, the front two thirds of a truck’s cab melted into its cracked and splayed ribs. A combination of his final push and her flaming endeavour had seemingly split the creature in two; its spine had been crushed just above the hips, that seemed to be the cause of its death.

The cause of its life however was plain to see, the orange insignia of moustached face with a grinning maw has weathered Blaze’s charring. They didn’t know all the details, though newspapers found in subways had informed them of the rough date of the occurrence. The lightning bird was a long dead creature that Eggman had revived, likely through the power of the chaos emeralds, and probably thought he could control. That seemed in line with the way things typically went for the evil doctor; taking advantage of something he didn’t truly understand and causing untold havoc in the process.

Flanking the skeleton was the devastation it had wreaked upon civilisation. They were near the heart of station square, but, due to the devastation, identifying it as such was virtually impossible. Two hundred years of lightning strikes had reduced much of the concrete and exposed infrastructure into a black sand desert, what little remained of the skyline appearing as little more than crumbling ziggurats. What appeared to the eye as simple soot from a fire was the pulverised remains of civilisation and life. This was Eggman’s fault, rather than the beast. The damage was the simple result of the creature’s existence, something out with its control.

Despite the depth of his sleepy thoughts, a far simpler sentence trailed from Silver’s mouth, “It really was just a big bird skeleton.”

“It certainly looks that way now, just like the cave paintings,” Blaze mused, “Once we’re reunited with the others, we should be more than able to either stop its revival or kill it soon after.”

“We know when it shows up, we just need to figure out where Eggman’s newest base is,” He hummed, turning back to her, “The others should have some idea, that or Tails will be able to figure it out.”

Blaze turned from the wreckage, turning him with her, “That and, before the devastation, researching where its remains were should be a whole lot easier.”

He nodded in agreement, finding his tongue was growing too heavy. The hedgehog was in a peculiar and uncomfortable state. Luckily, he couldn’t feel many of his injuries due to the numbness that came with overusing his powers. He was in that awkward position of being too exhausted to fall asleep in the feline’s arms; a fact exemplified as he yawned only to get stuck halfway in an annoyingly unsatisfying way. As his eyes reopened, Silver started to look past Blaze as she brought them down the very stairs she’d hid beneath before racing out to strike the beast.

While the land of the surface had been devastated, underground tunnels and subway systems had relatively endured the two-hundred-year assault. Station square’s own subway loop had become their base of operations over the two and a half weeks they’d spent in this future. They’d lit the subway space using braziers constructed from old buckets and barrels but, with the sky now clear, there was no need to light them. Cracks created by the lightning bird’s attacks were now letting in sunbeams, lighting their way as she alighted the stairs.

Silver turned from her face to watch the tiled walls pass as the feline jumped over a turnstile and began to walk down what was once escalator, heading towards the subway station they’d come to primarily utilise. They’d chosen this station in particular as it was where the train had stopped, leaving somewhat of a building to call home and the rough yet plush interior of the carts to use as beds. Seeing it now, lightly lit by the cracks in the ceiling, was astonishing. The subway train looked so picturesque; it’d been claimed by fungus and heartier plants long before they arrived, but it couldn’t have received much light at all until now. This place had become their tether to the past, being the originator of unsold and abandoned newspapers as well as general evidence of people’s lives just before the end times.

“Home sweet home,” He managed to softly sigh, being carried up and over the hearth by the feline.

This cart, the one primarily used for resting, was uniquely laid out. Rather than rows of seats, long benches spanned the entire length of the walls, only breaking at the room’s parallel doors. Blaze rather took him to the bench on the immediate right, not setting him to lie under his covers but to sit atop them. This was his bedspace, hers was on the bench parallel.

He began to slump over, wanting to send his head to his pillow, but Blaze caught him by the muzzle, “No, not yet. No sleeping till I’ve properly patched you up.”

“Fine,” He leant into her grasp, feeling the warmth of her palm and staring up at her, “Can you lean down here first though?”

He saw misplaced concern in her gaze as she took her hand back before bending down to eye level with him, “What is it?”

His right hand had started to hurt, there was a seething pain near the centre of his palm, so he was forced to reach across with his left. Rather clumsily, Silver brushed the stray lock of hair up and back behind her ear, “That’s all. It looked like it’d get in your way.”

A wave of heat exuded from the feline as she shot up to stand at her full height, seriousness had furrowed her brow, but a strange phenomenon had claimed her muzzle. Though her expression was fittingly serious, it looked so incredibly forced; a truth made certain by the manifestation of the strange pinkness he’d seen on her cheeks a handful on times. None of it was new to him, but the sight still made him smile. It was strange to think, but the only word he could use to describe it was cute.

She turned for the door, her tail lashing, “You’re clearly exhausted. I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’ll try,” He promised, managing another failed yawn as she yanked open the door separating the cars.

Their primary storage space was in there, they’d filled it to bursting with all the supplies they’d brought from her dimension and what little they’d managed to gather from their surroundings. It had however been scarce pickings, due to the lack of lingering infrastructure. When they’d found the truck they’d gone through all the cars and managed to salvage material for burning but little more. Despite how short their stay had been here, besting the beast with relative ease, it was more than obvious why the presence of the lightning bird had been enough to end the world. Electronics couldn’t face the monster in an airborne battle and those on the surface had been bombarded much too quickly.

Silver turned to the room he was in, taking stock of it. Pending how much he was actually hurt, he recognised that today might be the last day he slept here. At the room’s centre was a large garbage bin, one they’d used to light fires and keep warm; above it was a hole they’d cut out of the ceiling to vent the smoke. The benches left of the entryway had unique purposes. The one on his side was effectively acted as their kitchen. They had brought trunks with cold storage compartments with them, filled with various vegetables and fruits, but also dehydrated food that they’d recently started to use. Blaze would start a fire at the room’s centre, he would handle the cooking; they shared in it as they did all tasks.

Odds were that he probably should eat something, but he doubted he could manage that in his current state; despite his shouting during the fight, he wasn’t even aware enough to feel parched. They’d successfully gathered water from the black cloud’s storms and purified it using her pyrokinesis. For drinking, he’d catch the rainwater using his power, convening trickled rivers from the several holes in the ceiling, and she would perform contained evaporation. Recently, the feline had been expanding her use of her powers; trying new things and practicing them in new ways. She’d once been so afraid to use them; the simple thought of her so casually lighting their cooker never failed to make him smile. She always wanted to do more, to help in even the smallest ways. Others might have thought that tendency was a result of her royal upbringing, but Silver new better; regardless of her birth, she had always been this way.

The additional bench on her side had become their makeshift library, stocked with the various newspapers and tabloids they’d found in the tunnels as well as their brought literature. For Blaze that meant a small collection of poetry books, a few of which he had read but failed to absorb, while his pile was focused on the nature and history of her world. He reached out with his left hand, trying to wield his psychic power and tug a book over, but his symbol couldn’t even manage a full cyan glow. He was fully tapped, entirely drained.

It took the sound of footsteps, signalling the pyrokinetic’s arrival, to remount his attention. Blaze had returned to him with a small box of medical supplies in one hand, still covered in soot. From behind her back, she produced a small metal mug filled with water.

“Drink,” She commanded, “It’ll make your head feel better.”

The guardian knew better than him, she’d delt with him in states like this a dozen times over, “Thank you,” He manged to respond.

Just as he had almost finished sipping, she had knelt down in front of him and flipped the box open. It was only as he looked down to her, still feeling heat radiate, that he noticed the bloody state of his knees. Evidently, he’d gone down hard on them during his various landings.

“Can you get your boots off?” She asked, using her teeth to tear an alcohol wipe free from its pouch.

Slowly and awkwardly, the hedgehog manged to raise his right leg and tug the shoe off, but the left was far less cooperative. Now that he’d seen the state of his knees, it was as though they were constantly reminding him of their damage. He didn’t even have to speak for Blaze to notice his struggle though. Setting the wipe aside, she gingerly managed to pull the shoe off and set it aside. Thankfully, it didn’t look like he’d crushed his feet during the fight.

“You know this is going to sting,” She reminded him, retaking the swab. Her brows were hard, she was focused on this task, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, it’s not like it’s our first time doing this,” He leant back and gave her a smile. Though he put all his will and truth behind it, the gesture was surely meek, “I trust you, Blaze. It’ll be fine.”

Having said that, his toes did curl, and his canines did grit, at the first contact. Blaze was working diligently, clearly swabbing as gently as she could but making sure to be thorough, “Try to get your gloves off too, you’re bleeding on your right.”

Again, he hadn’t even noticed. Glancing down, the gloved hand he’d been struggling to move was indeed more red than white currently. He could still move his fingers, but it did feel incredibly raw. He opted to try the left first, biting the glove’s forefinger between his canines and tugging it free. There was some bruising at the bottom of his palm, and some small scorch marks around his wrist, but nothing too dramatic. When he tried to more regularly pull off his right glove though, move of an issue became immediately apparent. As he tugged at the fingers, a tearing pain brought him to cringe.

His gaze flickered to Blaze, she’d already wiped the worst of the blood from his knees and begun to scavenge for bandages and dressings. Though she looked unscathed, the confrontation had undoubtedly drained her too. He had to handle at least this much, take at least a little pressure off of her.

He grabbed the glove again, gently taking it the wrist-hole, and began to turn it inside out. The primary issue immediately became clear. Where electricity had been conducted to his right bangle, there was a sizable gouge running across the top of his wrist. Beyond there, he came across another issue; it seems as though the lightning had blackened a small patch of glove near the centre of his palm in particu-

“Silver,” She cut off his efforts, he felt her hand on his thigh. As he looked down to her, he found that his right knee was already bandaged and she was partway through treating the left, “If you’re struggling then just let me do it. I’m fine, I promise.”

Vulnerability prompted action, he took the cup she’d brought him and held it out to her. Knowing his partner, she’d got him water without considering herself, “If you drink, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Blaze did take the cup from him, but she hesitated upon receiving it. He followed her eyes to the mug’s lip and was about to question why she wasn’t drinking, when she very quickly raised the container to her lips. She seemed to be sipping, but she sipped for quite a long time. By the time she’d lowered the mug again, that cute pinkness had returned to her face. Now that he considered it, he was fairly certain that change was known as a blush; but why was she blushing?

“Are you satisfied?” Her ears were pinned back, she was staring at his knees.

“Y-Yeah,” Why was he stammering now? What was happening? “Are you okay?”

“I said I’m fine,” She insisted. With the return of her strong tone, the feline began to work in a slightly faster manner, “You’re the only one who’s hurt.”

“I guess,” He could only respond, noticing that the pink wasn’t fading from her face, “I meant to ask, how was it out there?

“Without its power and trapped beneath you, the creature was practically harmless,” She relayed, drawing a safety pin from the box and starting to secure his bindings, “I was able to hit it time after time without it so much as touching me, I could have done it for hours.”

“Sorry I couldn’t hold up for that long,” He conceded, his chest filling with pride in his partner, “That sounds incredible though, I wish I could have seen it. Watching you fight is always incredible Blaze!”

“It was nothing special,” She insisted, finishing on his left leg before rising, “Right, now let’s see to that hand.”

“Oh, right,” It’d already slipped his mind.

As she took up the bench to his right, bringing the first aid kit to sit on her lap, he quickly took a sip from the mug before setting it down on his left. When he turned back to her, the blush that had begun to fade was back on her cheeks. Her gaze was locked on the box, she was fiddling with some of the equipment, and heat was flagging from her.

“Are you sure you’re okay Blaze,” He questioned, shuffling a little closer, “You’ve been blushing a lot.”

“It’s just the exercise, it’s been a while since I’ve fought properly. I’m a little flushed, just a little out of breath,” She quickly insisted, even redder as she turned to face him, “Now, let me see your hands.”

His head tilted as he reached out with both too her, “But you said it was an easy fight?”

The pyrokinetic didn’t answer his confusion, instead tearing open another swab’s pouch with her teeth and getting to work on his left hand. He tried not to cringe as she cleaned around his scorched wrist, but the pain brought one of his eyes to close. A simple bandage was easily cut to size and bound around the worst looking part of the injury. That had been pretty painful, but his right hand was undoubtedly going to be a whole lot worse.

He immediately winced as she began to shift the glove, folding it back from his wrist just as he had prior. Blaze leaned in to better look at the hand, seeming to identify the sudden tension across his body as she reached that point. He watched her brow furrow as she gingerly tried to raise the fabric, hearing him reflectively hiss. Before his eyes could cringe shut though, he’d recognised the issue; his flesh had indeed been fused with his glove in the wake of lightning’s burn.

Blaze set his hand on her lap and drew a small set of scissors from the box, “This is going to hurt. I’ll try to be as gentle as possible… but let me know if it gets too painful.”

It took him nodding for her to proceed.

She started at the edge of his hand, away from his thumb, and cut along the white material. The guardian was working diligently and carefully, keeping her eyes to her work. That left him plenty of opportunity to grimace and roll his toes as he realised just how raw that flesh was, every snip and shift sent a not insignificant wave of pain through the hedgehog.

Reaching parallel with the bottom of his fingers, she turned the scissors inward and began to cut along the inner material at the top of his palm. The pain was always at its height just before the cut, when the tension was at its greatest. She reached the other side relatively quickly though, then slicing along the front of his thumb. The material on both sides of his hands immediately loosened and a sharp sigh slipped from his lips. She began to ease the back and fingers of the gloves free from his hand, prompting him to clench. Blaze glanced up, plainly noticing his strained expression.

She stopped, frowning up at him, “You’re so naïve, I said to say if it was hurting too much.”

“You’d still have to do it though, regardless of how much it’s hurting, right?” He winced as she reached up, taking a small, wet, cloth to his brow.

“That doesn’t mean we need to rush it,” She tutted, dabbing his muzzle and cheeks, “We can do this little bit by little bit.”

“I can handle it, it’s okay,” He insisted, watching as she pulled the cloth away, “And there’s only really one bit left to deal with, right?”

She was the one to grimace this time, “I was saving the worst for last… but if you’re sure…”

Again, she was looking to him for confirmation. He gave the best smile and nod his strength could muster, but he was certain the expression betrayed him. Despite that, his partner accepted the consent.

Deftly, the back and fingers of the glove were peeled off of his hand and left to tumble to the floor. Though it hurt, Blaze was right; the worst was yet to come. This wasn’t the first time that they would be dealing with fabric fused to skin, living in a world dominated by Iblis and sparring with Blaze had been caused the hedgehog a multitude of burns, but it was the first time he’d be enduring that pain in this lifetime. At first, they’d simply cut the skin where such damage occurred, cauterising it when the damage was at its worst, but now they knew a little better.

Blaze flipped his hand around and allowed the excess fabric to naturally fall, taking an appearance that resembled a bundled curtain. The excess material, no more than half a centimetre away from the fused mass, was then cut and allowed to fall into the small space between them. He couldn’t help but notice the symbol on the back of his hand, through his still stained fur. Though its light wasn’t shining, the circle was still visible. His power would return, but again the feline had been right. It wouldn’t be days rather than hours until he was back at full power. Before he was too tired to yawn; now pain had roused him, and a headache was forming.

Another glance from the feline seemed to identify that feeling, he watched as she set down the scissors and picked the towel back up. She gingerly began to clean his right hand, starting with his fingers and working his way down the back of his hand. Every at her contact, the slightest glimmer of light ebbed from his symbol before snuffing back to nought.

Their eyes met again, there was nothing left to delay them; Blaze gently flipped his hand back over. Stationed near the centre of his palm-side symbol, blackened and roughly an inch in diameter, remained an innocuous piece of fabric. Blaze raised the already bloodied cloth, the trepidation in her expression was as plain as day.

“I’ll try to make it quick,” She promised.

Silver couldn’t help but hiss when the moment finally came, the flesh around the conjoining material was rubbed with the cloth and raw skin was gradually exposed. As he flinched and grit his teeth, the hedgehog’s quills, no longer supported by his latent psychic power, fully tumbled into his vision. Abrasion was the best way to treat injuries like this, removing the burnt skin and material without damaging healthy mass, but every movement stung and set his teeth on edge. With his free hand, weak as it was, he gripped the edge of the bench.

It didn’t take much more than a minute, Blaze worked as deftly as possible despite his shudders and tensing. Once it appeared the mass had been removed, she drew and opened a trio of alcoholic wipes and began to clean the wound more directly. The pain didn’t vanish, if anything it was worse than before, but he was becoming more accustomed to it.

“Thank you,” He managed to croak.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” She responded, reaching back into the first aid box.

Soon after that, almost before he could comprehend, his right hand and its wrist alike were properly bandaged. A shudder of relief washed over him at the finality of it all, that was until Blaze was back upon him. She’d quickly risen, having taken off and balled her gloves before beginning to ply through his fur, seemingly to both take stock of both her handiwork and search for any remaining injuries. He felt her pass over a handful of bruises, or perhaps they were smaller burns, but nothing seemed to significantly hold her attention.

Her warm hand finally moved to arrive on his forehead and successfully eased back his quills, brushing up to the top of his head before gently lingering there, “You look exhausted.”

“But you’ve been doing all the work,” He heard himself moan. The gloves she’d been using were entirely soaked and her once merely soot covered overcoat was now stained at various points.

“And I’ll continue to do so until you’re back on your feet,” She insisted, taking on the authoritative tone he’d often heard her use in her dimension, “Now lie down.”

The hedgehog did as he was commanded, kicking his feet up onto the bench and setting his head against the pillow. As he went to pull the covers over him, he caught the princess’ eye again, “No, the other way,” He turned onto his side only for Blaze to roll her eyes, “On your stomach.”

“Will this help me heal faster?” He asked face pressed flat into the pillow.

No answer came though, instead Blaze simply responded; “I’ll be back in a moment, I’m just going to clean up a little. Don’t move.”

Evidently, she wasn’t done. Silver heard the subway cart doors slide open then reclose. He shifted his head, putting his chin atop his pillow. In the wake of passed time and her efforts, the adrenaline had well and truly worn off. Outside his more obvious wounds, his entire body was beginning to ache with the echoes of his strenuous effort. His shoulders were still ridged, and his biceps ached. Harsh tension across his form was a regular occurrence that followed more intense psychic endeavours; though it was a power of the mind, full bodily effort was required to make full use of his psychokinesis.

He reached out ahead of himself, ignoring the whine of his left shoulder, and tried to simply push against the leaver on the nearby door. Not even the slightest glow dared to manifest on the leaver or his hand this time; he was totally drained. The likelihood was that he couldn’t even stand at the moment, let alone walk. He was probably weaker now than the likes of Cream, perhaps even Cheese. The thought of the tiny chao mercilessly beating him like a punching bag was enough to make him snicker, but it served as a reminder of how exhausted he was. A more physical reminder came as he struggled to look back behind himself when the door separating the carts slid open again.

Blaze had shed her overcoat. She’d returned to him with that metal cup, assumedly refilled, and was now only garbed in her white leggings and tank top. She’d taken her brief hiatus to wipe much of the soot from herself, having likely disposed of her bloody gloves. Her change in look didn’t hold his attention though; the pink that had reclaimed her cheeks and her averted gaze did that enough.

“Drink,” She insisted again, the mug filled his view.

He rose to one elbow only to find it wasn’t enough, weakness truly had claimed him. As he rose onto both, she held the edge close to him and tilted the vessel. As always, the water was room temperature, but he truly hadn’t realised how parched he was. Even though he had drunk prior, perhaps just due to the numbness having faded, these mouthfuls felt far more refreshing.

“Thank you,” He responded as he final finished, but no response came. The feline was looking away from him, still holding the cup as she had prior, “Blaze?”

His voice seemed to interrupt her train of thought, she pulled the mug back but didn’t respond. Instead, the feline trailed off past him; he heard her set the cup down on the metal floor. She had hesitated just behind him, he felt her fingers drag through one of his longer quills.

“I want to try something else to help you, but I’m not sure I’ll be any good at it,” She half explained, trepidation in her tone, “While I can light our surrounding and help with cooking, I’ve thought of something new I could so with my power. I’ve been trying to practice but…I rather…” He didn’t need to see her to know that she was struggling with whatever this was, “You’re already vulnerable, and if I failed then it would only make things wor-

Without hesitation, before she could talk herself out of it, he gave his answer, “I trust you, Blaze. Whatever it is, go for it.”

Despite his words, she didn’t act yet. Instead, she was prompted to be blunter, “I’m want to try to give you a massage.”

“That’s it? Of course you can give that a shot,” He grinned, even though she couldn’t see.

“I want to try use my powers as I do,” She elaborated, the tension in here voice still very much present, “I’ve been doing some research, some reading, and people use hot stones and heat pads sometimes to relax their muscles. I was curious if I could do the same.”

“Then let’s found out,” He forced himself up further and turned to her, their eyes met for the first time since she’d returned, “Blaze, I trust you. Let’s try it.”

“Just put your face against the pillow and lie flat,” The seriousness in her voice was undiluted, but she had begun her approach before he turned, “And if this is uncomfortable, say. Don’t try to act tough this time.”

“I won’t, I promise,” He spoke back, half muffled as he assumed the instructed position.

The hedgehog heard her shift before he felt her physically; daintily straddling his back, right upon his hips.

A moment later, a wave of heat passed over the top of him, starting strong before quickly subduing itself. Her weight shifted closer to the base of his spine and heard her take a deep breath before, gingerly, the feline’s fingertips contacted his shoulders. The princess’ touch was always warm, but it was more of a background heat than her current concentrated effort.

She’d started at his upper back, just beneath his neck, and near his spine. The feline was being gentle, what little pressure she was exerting being derived from presses with her thumbs. Alike the contact, the heat she was generating was relatively minor. Despite what he’d said, Blaze was plainly holding back, starting small and light. He was more than willing to wait.

“You’re doing great,” He said, certain his words would be muddled by a combination of the pillow and his tiredness.

“You just focus on relaxing,” She insisted, but the prior hesitation in her voice had vanished and a muted softness had taken its place, “Just close your eyes and try to rest.”

Gradually, he felt her other fingers begin to work their way into the action. She grasped along his shoulders, rubbing in circles while simultaneously pushing heat into him. It was with that change that he hedgehog truly began to feel her efforts. She seemed to have reached a point she was comfortable with, both in terms of contact and body temperature. Gradually, she went from aimlessly squeezing around his shoulders to more focused endeavours, pushing the base of her palms against the more fully formed knots in his back. Just like while he was fighting, time had become a mystery to him. He came to fold his arms under his chin and close his eyes, fully focused on her firm contact.

“Are you still awake?” He eventually heard her ask.

The hedgehog managed a small hum, just loud enough to let her know.

“I’m going to move a little lower, remember to let me know if it’s at all uncomfortable,” She reminded him.

He was powerless when it came to her, regardless of the state he was actually in. Though fire was Blaze’s most blatant power, it was far from the only thing at her disposal. She was strong, elegant and capable of enduring tasks far more gruelling than her title of princess would suggest. Beneath the surface though, it was her heart that harboured so many secret skills. Even though she feared the damage her power could do, she was giving her all to help him recover. It was endeavours like that which made him admire her more than anything.

Feeling tiredness finally catch up to him, the hedgehog began to mumble, “How lucky am I to have found you twice? What were the odds of that?” Silver felt a small spike in heat, but no response came from her, “Someone so strong and reliable. Willing to do so much, even when I’m not in this useless state…”

“Silver, you’re delirious,” Her heard her snort, muting the slightest chuckle, “I know you’d do the same for me.”

“Of course I would,” The moment he said that though, he had an idea, “Not could; I will. As soon as you finish, I’ll look after you. I’ll give you a massage too!”

“Don’t be so naïve,” He could practically her eyes rolling, but it was matched by the grin in her voice, “You’ll be getting bedrest first. Maybe in a couple of days you’ll be able to return the favour.”

He tried to turn around but, but that attempt only caused her to strengthen her efforts and keep him pinned. It was as he’d thought before, Silver were powerless when it came to her, “I’ll do it as soon as I can, whether that’s in the next five minutes or the next five days,” He promised.

“This is going to take a lot longer than five minutes,” She tutted, “Let’s focus on you for today. If you can stand by tomorrow, then you can consider pampering me.”

As if to emphasize her point, Silver felt the feline’s grasp tighten and the temperature rise. He supposed she was growing bolder as he was showing his comfort, “Deal. As soon as I’m able, I’ll give you the best day possible in this place. I swear it.”

“If you drain yourself doing that, it’ll become an endless cycle. We’ll never get home,” She responded, soft snideness in her voice.

“Maybe so,” He hummed, feeling her shift a little further down his back, “Guess we’ll have to see who gives in first.”

“I suppose you’ll have to choose between that and your promise to Marine,” She gently taunted, moving her heat between his spines.

Eventually, the hedgehog felt his eyes grow heavy and entire yawns broke beyond his lips. It wasn’t long after that before he heard the same sounding from the pyrokinetic behind her, accompanied by the slight slowing of her movements. He didn’t know what state he’d be in when they woke up, whether her efforts would have some miraculous impact or if he’d be bedridden for days, but he could rest easy with her watching over him.

[everestfitness]

WOD 7/6/2023

MOW Day #9

WO I/GYM

BB Incline Press/DB Side lateral Raises (6 Sets)

BB Flat Bench Press (6 Sets)

DB Flat Bench Flies (3 Sets)

BB Standing Overhead Press (6 Sets)

Triceps Cable Pressdowns (5 Sets)

Upper Chest Machine (3 Sets)

EZ Curl bar Overhead Triceps Extensions (3 Sets)

WO II/HOME

Crunches/Lower Body Flexibility Exercises (6 Sets)

Upper Body Flexibility Exercises (5 Sets)

WOD 7/5/2023

MOW Day #6

WO I/HOME

Crunches/Lower Body Flexibility Exercises

Upper Body Flexibility Exercises (2 Sets)

Ex. Thing Rear  (5 Sets)

Ex. Tubing Triceps Pressdowns (6 Sets)

Ex. Tubing Reverse Triceps Pressdowns (5 Sets)

DB Lying Skull Crushers/DB Bicep Hammer Curls (5 Sets)

DB One Arm Triceps Kickbacks (5 Sets)

DB Bicep Curls (5 Sets)

WORK: Walk 7.9 Miles

[leam1983]

On Maturity

"Grem, the changing room's this way."

"Watch out for the curbside, Grem."

"No, Dan - don't buy these, they don't look good enough on you."

"I know you said you're past Unisex sizes, but let's just go check That One Store With Only Unisex Sizes, just in case."

"You've gone up two sizes? You should watch your weight, hon."

"Where's your bank balance at, again? I don't want you to spend too much."

I snapped at that last one. "I love you, Mom - but seriously? That's none of your goddamn business. I'm pushing forty, the pandemic's been rough on my waistline and I've been on the weight yo-yo since February 2020, but I need something decent for the funeral, next week. If I have to buy a thousand bucks' worth of clothes to throw out what's too saggy or constrictive, I fucking will."

That's the one drawback of being disabled: the Den Mother or Father of the pack acting like you're functionally brainless if you aren't stuck on a mental leash. Pair that with Boomer parents not understanding that in the age of Understocked Everything, it's a heck of a lot easier to use stores as reference points for serial numbers, so you can later buy shit online.

Dad was mortified I didn't give the nice girl at our local shoestore any sort of sales commission. I rolled my eyes. I shopped at a Yellow Shoes, and Yellow is a local franchise. Nobody gives a shit where you buy your stock, as long as someone buys shit. The franchise-holders get kickbacks when you shop online.

I remember glancing back at the apron-wearing girl, and she just shrugged. I hadn't dashed her week's budget by not hedging my bets with sizes one point above my usual. I wouldn't shop for shoes off of Amazon, sure, but fuck outlets, man - especially if you know they have a hub or warehouse.

Yes, I'm disabled and yes, I have Cerebral Palsy, and tiredness means some things occasionally whiz right past me - but I'd fucking love it if my own progenitors could trust me with my wardrobe, after seeing me handle my own rent and expenses.

And yes, Mom; I absolutely did blow sixty bucks on crowfunded tee-shirts off of Teespring. They'll probably be pre-shrunk thermal-pressed designs on sweat-shop crap, but I stand by my choices as an adult.

Aw, Hell. In another chapter of Gremlin fixes something his parents neglected, I'll also have to call Quebec's equivalent to the DMV, to get my Disability license re-issued. Can't get handicapped spots without a rear-mirror-sign, and the folks seemingly lost it in the ether.

I'm just crossing my fingers and hoping to God this doesn't end with "We need to re-evaluate your case, so please contact your private clinic and pony up more cash for a bullshit physical, so we can certify that no, you indeed haven't been cured of Cerebral Palsy between the last date of issue on record and the present day."

[tehrevving]

Now Where Will You Be - 1

I’m starting a new series :O

Basically I really liked the dynamic between the characters in “One Chance” so I’m writing some more stuff in a slight AU of that universe. The only important thing is that instead of the reader only being there for a few days, she’s there with him indefinitely, and this will of course never be addressed. 

Chapter 1: Featuring  a descriptive fight with blood and gore, gun play, blood kink.

It’s a full blown miracle when some random, well dressed man walks into the Devil May Cry office and asks Dante to kill some hellish creatures for him. Dante can’t believe that his half-assed advertising actually worked. If the man had come in just a few days ago then he would have said no, but he’s feeling a little bit better now, a little bit less depressed. He turns to the source of his sudden personality change to find her standing there beside him and he finds that he can’t resist the way that her face lights up when he agrees to it.

Dante puts on a shirt this time, he’s not sure why he’s bothered because he knows it’s just going to end up getting destroyed anyway. She insists on coming with him, insists that she can handle herself and while he’s a little bit concerned, he can’t really do much but believe her. He has no idea where she keeps getting all of these clothes from, but she ends up dressed in a dark coloured tank top and black jeans with a large belt. His heart leaps into his throat when he sees she’s got thigh holsters on, and it leaps again once more when she turns to him and ever so sweetly asks if she can borrow some guns.

He’s even more concerned when she immediately gravitates towards a shotgun, holding it in her hands with glee. He warns her about the kickback but she just shrugs, says “I know,” and straps it against her leg along with a pistol and some small blades. She winks when she notices that he’s watching her twirl them in her hands and lifts it up, running her tongue against the flat side of the blade. Dante gulps and averts his eyes while she laughs.

She stands in the doorway waiting for him, all loaded up. She cocks her hip and stares at him and he just can’t help but think that he’s going to be very distracted during this job. Then she’s smiling and taking all of it off and shoving it into her bag, because obviously you can’t just wander the streets fully loaded.

It’s a pretty leisurely walk because he doesn’t have a car. She points out all of the things that are different than she’s used to, and what’s going to change. She points out a few places that she wants to visit later and Dante sighs now realising that he’s going to have to play tour guide.

Eventually they reach the abandoned warehouse, well it’s abandoned because of the infestation. Apparently there’s a nest of gross things crawling around inside, the guy wasn’t too specific about what they actually were. She straps her arsenal back to her body and then pulls out a pair of what looks like heavy duty walkman headphones, but with no wires. “In case they’re loud,” she says and he shrugs, throwing his sword on his back and holstering his guns.

She gestures for him to enter first and he’s still unsure about her tagging alone. “You don’t need to watch out for me,” she smiles, “but if I need you, you’ll know. Alright?”

Dante nods even though he’s not sure at all.

He walks through the door first, because he’s basically bulletproof. There’s a reasonable sized nest of grotesque creatures, writhing and crawling over each other. They shriek at him, inhuman screams echoing so heavily off the walls that it makes even his ears ring, he realises that maybe she does know what she’s doing.

The creatures start limping towards him, their gait is wobbly, unsteady. They drag themselves along the floor using their disgustingly long claws. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard and it grates deep inside his skull.

Dante takes in a deep breath and draws his sword. He moves forward with speed and cleaves the heads off four of the creatures with one fluid slice of his weapon. Their too hot blood gushes from their empty necks and rains down on him. He thinks he probably should have thought that through a little bit better.

They’re not difficult to defeat but there’s a lot of them. He fights through as many as he can while she takes up the rear, the ones that he misses. He slices through more and then turns to make sure she’s okay, and then finds himself utterly distracted.

He watches as she plants her feet on the ground, lifts up his shotgun and double taps two rounds right into the face of his horrific abomination, already mangled from his sword. Her arms shake from the recoil but she holds steady as the creature screams and falls to the floor in a twitching heap. She cocks the gun again, turns to him and grins. Fuck his pants get so tight suddenly that he can hardly move. Not that he needs to because he’s almost immediately skewered through the chest by a wicked scythed claw. Dante grunts and shoots the damn thing in the face without even looking behind him. The claw drags sticky against his insides as the weight of the creatures drags on it as it falls to the floor. He pulls the thing out from his back with a squelch and a spray of blood. He turns to find her staring at him, giggling, like she knows she’s the reason he got stabbed.

He finds he’s more motivated then, covered in their blood and his own. He goes after the remaining creatures while his skin itches as it knits back together. He notices that they don’t attack her like they attack him, they approach her like they’re curious, like she’s not a threat even though she’s ripping them apart. Damn they go for him through like he’s personally fucked and then murdered their parents.

Suddenly they’re all dead, heaped in sizzling, rotting piles of flesh on the bloody warehouse floor. He turns and finds her blowing on the steam that billows from the muzzle of her shotgun. There’s demon blood and guts streaked across her ripped shirt, he can see parts of her coloured bra peeking through and even covered in guts he’s never seen anything so alluring.

He stalks towards her like a predator and the creature inside of him purrs when she doesn’t back down. She digs her nails into his chest and pulls him to her lips while he walks her backwards. He crowds her against the shitty, blood stained brick wall, caging her in. Dust falls from the bricks as he puts his hands through them in his desperation to keep her in his grasp. She pulls away and stares directly into his eyes, “not enough carnage for you huh?”

“Not enough carnage,” he growls, “not enough payoff.”

She digs her nails hard into his skin, through the holes in his shirt where the sythe stabbed him through. The skin is already healed but she digs into it like the wound might just open up again. “I call it your horny energy,” she laughs, “when you rile yourself up and the fight just isn’t enough to disperse all the adrenaline. The air around you goes hazy, like looking at a fire. Sometimes you get too eager, and then it’s not just demon blood covering the floor afterwards, if you catch my drift. Powerful devil pheromones are enough to drive even a human mad.” She bites her lip, leaves him to ponder her words and then she’s on him.

He doesn’t even know why he let her talk, why he didn’t just pull her body to him because now she’s biting at his collarbones while playing with his belt and it’s amazing. She undoes it carelessly, yanking his pants barely down enough to free what she wants. She plays with his cock, squeezing at it roughly while Dante tries his best not to shred her pants in his haste to have her.

He lifts her up while she puts her legs around his waist and his dick almost instantly finds the already wet entrance of her cunt. She bites down on his bottom lip and digs her nails into his shoulder, rocking her hips until he can’t help but press inside of her.

He fucks her roughly, because he really doesn’t know how to do it any other way. She takes everything he gives her and begs for more. She cries out his name and claws at his skin.

She reaches behind him and he thinks she’s just feeling him up, but then there’s a click and her hand is coming back with one of his guns. He hears the clip fall to the ground as she uploads it, and he pulls away from her lips as his cock throbs inside her. He opens his eyes to find her pointing the gun straight at his face, still with a bullet in the chamber.

He leans forwards and bites down on the cold steel, the metal creaking against the force of his fangs. He feels her cunt tighten around his cock.

“Can I shoot you?” she asks, and then seems taken back by the way his eyes blow wide open. “No, you’re not ready,” she murmurs and then pulls the slide back as more bullets fall to the ground.

She brings it to his temple, presses the cool metal to his skin. “Fuck me harder Baby,” she whispers and suddenly he finds that he can’t stop.

She keeps the gun at this temple as he fucks her, as he thrusts hard and fast into her tight, willing body. He can’t say the feel of the metal doesn’t spur him on. He licks the remnants of blood from her neck and chest while she bites at his jaw and uses her free hand to claw lines upon lines of marks against his chest.

He struggles to keep it together as she starts biting at his throat. Because that’s her cue to him that she’s close, and because she knows that once she digs her teeth in and draws blood, he won’t be able to help spilling inside of her.

Her body spasms around him, and her arm holding the gun is shaking as she comes. She calls out his name and the wall behind her back turns to dust as he starts to come. She fires the gun just as the pleasure gets too much and even though it’s empty, even though the only reaction is the soft click of the empty chamber. The anticipation of more is enough to send him over the edge.

The warehouse is an even worse state once he’s had his fill of her. She just holds onto his arm for support so she can stand, nuzzling at his shoulder and smiling.

“Guns huh?” he asks later, once they’ve got their clothes back on and they’re walking back to the office.

“Don’t knock it until you try it,” she grins, “give it a little bit and soon you’ll be begging for me to blow your brains out when you come.” She laughs when her words make him stumble and make a slight moan escape from his lips. “Don’t worry,” she smirks, “just you wait and maybe I’ll give you a demonstration after the next job.”

[emilou-keen-gear]

Launchpad calls Darkwing Duck while at work. (fanfic scene)

           Darkness was a source of fear for everyone; it was the place where the unknown lurked in the shadows. It could be a monster, a villain, or a knife poised to strike. The unknown kept people inside at night, off the streets, and safe in their homes. But sometimes when the sun goes down, citizens must leave safety and walk the streets, trekking where the shadows could touch them, only streetlights and store signs keeping the darkness at bay.

           And even that wasn’t enough.

           But in St. Canard, there was one person that didn’t fear the darkness. He was there to fight those with evil intensions. Those who had to venture out late at night did so with the belief that someone in the shadows was willing to be the fence of vengeance, protecting them from the monsters that crept through the night.

           And that person was Darkwing Duck.

           And Scrooge McDuck, who had generously loaned him the money at a low interest rate to provide him with the gadgets he needed to fight crime, to hide his identity, and to payoff that copyright suit against the creators of the Darkwing Duck TV series. So, St. Canard had two people to thank.

           But mostly Darkwing Duck.

           And Drake Mallard was happy to serve the city, taking none of the credit. Each night, he tried his best to live up to the name of Darkwing Duck, his hero and idol. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t that good at it, or that he only had his skills as an actor to start out with, or that nobody actually knew who Darkwing Duck was, or that he had to start his life completely over by moving to St. Canard and the only job he could find was working in a rubber duck packaging plant.

           No, none of that mattered because as long as he could fight crime and save lives, he was happy.

           A red light blinked on the computer board on his motorcycle, indicating an alarm had sounded on his system. It looked as if evil didn’t take a break, not even on a Wednesday night.

           “Ah-ha, the St. Canard Museum of Shiny things,” Darkwing said to himself. He touched the screen, and it drew out the fastest path for him to get there. “It looks like the new exhibit on jade statues is attracting an audience after hours.”

           He threw open the throttle and sped toward the museum.

           A block away, he saw a car shift in gear and peal out in front of the museum, bright headlights coming toward him. A bike playing chicken with a car was just stupid, and if Darkwing was anything, it wasn’t stupid. But no matter where he turned, the car mirrored him.

           At the last minute, Darkwing turned, to the right to prevent a collision. The car swerved with him, nicking his back wheel and causing the motorcycle to fishtail across the road.

           Expertly, Darkwing gave the bike enough gas to straighten before skidding into a sharp, decelerating U-turn, leaving a streak on the asphalt. He gunned the gas, the motorcycle leaping forward with the front wheel lifting up.

           The fleeing jewelry thieves turned a sharp corner down another straight, thinking that they could lose him. But they were wrong. When it came to speed and high-speed maneuvers, a motorcycle definitely had the advantage.

           They turned down several corners, and each time Darkwing closed the distance between them until he was right on their tail.        

           With every fiber of his being concentrating on the chase, the sound of his cell phone jingled in his helmet’s speakers playing the Darkwing Duck theme song on loud jolted him that he practically leapt in his seat, losing control of his vehicle for a few seconds.

           He jammed a finger on his motorcycle’s touch screen, intending to send the call to voice mail, but slipped on the answer button.

           “Hey, DW. What’s up?”

           “Launchpad?”

           “Yep, that’s me.”

           “Launchpad, I can’t talk now. Can I talk to you later?” Darkwing shouted into the microphone.

           “Okay, I’ll make it quick. You see, I have this really good friend. She’s been my best friend forever, and I kind of forgot her birthday, so I have to get her something good. And…well, she’s a huge Darkwing fan…”

           “Uh-huh,” Darkwing said, only half-listening. Only faintly above Launchpad’s words did he hear a car window being smashed, spotting the glint of something poking out the back window. He didn’t know what it was until he heard the BANG of a pistol.

           “Launchpad!” he shouted over the gunshots as he performed a serpentine maneuver. “I’ll have to call you later.” He slammed his hand over the end call button, then reached down for his gas launcher.

           New to crime-fighting, he had only a few times had a chance to use his gadgets on actual bad guys, and not successfully every time. And that was when they were standing still or running away. It would be a miracle if he made this shot.

           “Suck gas, evil-doers,” he said through gritted teeth, hoping that the catch-phrase would bring him luck. He tensed his muscles as he pulled the trigger, feeling the kickback once the gunpowder was ignited.

           An arc of smoke flew toward the car, sailing past the broken rear window which was where he was aiming. Instead, the canister of gas landed on the hood and somehow stayed lodged on the front of the car, billowing thick gas. The car swerved back and forth across the road before meeting a sturdy street light, stopping the car cold.

           Breaking to a stop next to the car, Darkwing looked inside the vehicle, seeing through the gas three bodies inside. He opened the door tentatively, but nobody moved. Either the gas had knocked them out or the crash did. After checking their pulses, he slapped handcuffs on them and remotely called 9-1-1 for a police car and ambulance.

           “The authorities can take it from here,” he said with a smile when he heard sirens. After one last check, his motorcycle roared away.

           In an alley not far away, he listened to the police radio, learning that the pieces that were stolen from the museum had been recovered and the thieves were either on their way to jail or the hospital with a police escort.

           “A job well done,” he congratulated himself, crossing his arms. That was when his right fingers felt something off about his costume. Feeling around, he found a hole the exact size of a bullet. “Oh, no.” Even though he felt no pain, he carefully examined his arm, searching for a wound that wasn’t there.

           “It must have missed me barely,” he rationalized with a sigh of relief. Yet, something didn’t seem right. Even though he was still whole, his brain couldn’t figure out why there was no exit hole in his costume.

[heartwoodventures]

If You Go Down to the Woods Today Pt. 2

Part 1 here!

In the utter silence of the forest glen Zorah's whisper seemed unnaturally loud. Several of their number craned their necks up to peer high above them. Nazyl slowly released his blade from its holster. Bird, demon, or whatever it was, he was ready for it. Aislinn slid a hand up to the grip of her gun and tensely waited, all the while stepping back to the relative shelter of the trees.

The group didn’t have to wait long. The sound of beating wings grew loud, and louder -- the closer it got, the easier it was to pick out a sort of ungainly, awkward gait to the flapping as though the creature was struggling -- the silence around them was abruptly shattered as something massive crashed through the canopy, and came in straight for the forest floor!

The three on the front-lines managed to scramble out of the way *just* in time; though no one could escape the smell. The overpowering, sweetly rancid scent of rot rolled through the clearing as the creature righted itself. Nazyl kicked away from the creature, putting distance between him and it to get a good look at it while Zorah managed to have the grace to step back when the creature fell into their view, her hands at her sides forming the aetheric discs she relied on in combat. Though both were able to miss being hit, that putrid smell was unbearable, causing the miqo’te to silently gag and cover her nose and mouth with the back of her hand.

"Seven Hells." Aislinn coughed as both she and Vanriri scrambled backward, but there was no reprieve from the choking smell. It was almost a certainty that scent was going to find its way into the hyur’s nightmares.

A sharply beaked head lowered to screech indignantly at the party that had dodged it -- or perhaps it was lamenting its own clumsiness. Empty sockets stare balefully at the gathered adventurers as it reared back, unfurling a massive pair of leathery wings.

Aiswyda answered the creature’s eyeless gaze with a mixed look of disgust, shock, and confusion. “Is this the guy? Ugh, this chicken is far too large.” she took a moment to shake out her fists and then, “Care-to-enlighten-us-on-what-this-oversized-bird-is?” she managed to get those words out with lightning speed -- to the point where it could be misinterpreted as a very strange and drawn out battle cry. Without a moment to lose, she dashed ahead and aimed a punch right at the creature’s beak.

With its head extended from its screech, Aiswyda’s fist connected easily with the creature, crunching bone and softened cartilage. It squawked in protest and reared its eyeless head back, shaking it as though to recover from the impact.

"I've not fought maneh o' these....livin' or dead." Nazyl wrinkled his nose at the scent. Undead beast. Great. Necromancy at work. While it wasn't the worst thing he'd ever smelled, it wasn't exactly pleasant either. 

N'yami turned her head to the side and a small crack was heard from her neck, her carbuncle made a noise that sounded as if to argue with the Seeker, clearly she was about to do something stupid. "Someone has to make sure it doesn't fly away." 

Bolting towards the weird bird-like creature, N'yami jumped up to grab it around the neck then held on for dear life. She was attempting to grapple the massive pteranodon's neck, but as she leapt up to grab it, its partially rotted flesh sloughed away under her grasp, sending her tumbling back to the ground nearby. With a very nasty prize. She slopped down to the ground with some very unpleasant.....flesh on her. 

"Well....I've had worse on me I suppose." She shook her hands to try and rid herself of the gore.

Nazyl wretched at N’yami’s failed attempt to keep the ptero held down, "Try its wings first, it's a scalekin. Or was." He took his holy blade in both hands and leapt up at the unfurled wings, cutting down at the arm in an attempt to sever, or at least break it. What was this creature even doing way out here?

His blade sliced straight through the undead pteranodon's joint like butter, the severed edges turning to ash where the sword had struck. The limb itself collapsed to the forest floor nearly on top of N'yami as the undead abomination reeled backwards, dragging its bloated carcass with rather surprising agility. Nevertheless, one faulty flap of its remaining wing reveals it was almost certainly grounded.

N'yami watched as the wing almost fell on top of her. "That would've been unpleasant." She said while rolling and pushing herself up into a standing position again. She was met with a whack to the back of her head from her carbuncle, trying to get her friend’s head back in the game. "I know I know."

Aiswyda gagged as flesh and wing rained down right in front of her. She was just, so upset. The smell. The everything about this.

While the others got in their attacks, Aislinn spared a moment to pull a bandana from her hip pouch and hastily wrapped it over the lower half of her face. The smell of death and decay was making her stomach churn and she had no desire to spill her dinner all over the forest floor. Too embarrassing. That done, now it was down to business. She yanked the handgonne from the holster at her back and leveled it at the creature. With a head full of calculations, she aimed for one of the empty eye sockets and fired off a round, her back heel digging into the dirt from the kickback.

The pteranodon swung its long neck about to screech with seeming indignation at its missing limb just as Aislinn fired off her shot; though it doesn't catch the eye socket directly as she'd intended, it does glance across its already charred and softened beak where Aiswyda had struck it earlier, taking out a chunk of what charred flesh remained and shattering bone.

Meanwhile, Vanriri remained almost plastered back against the tree; she had the sense to pull the quarterstaff from her back, but her hands were shaking where she held it. Swallowing, she tightened her grip on the staff and charged recklessly into the melee, swinging her staff at the other wing's vulnerable joint. It was a good hit. Her staff cracked against the elbow with considerable force, but the impact was mitigated somewhat by the layers of leathery, undead flesh that squelched uncomfortably beneath the blow.

With sudden and surprising agility, missing limb or no, the pteranodon swung its bulbous bulk around, jabbing its sharply beaked head down at the two lalafell while its lengthy tail snaked out to trip up the miqo’tes.

With a dancer’s agility, Zorah flexed her fingers, the aetheric discs sparking as the aether rose in the air around her.  It trailed along her feet and hands as she stepped back, out of the pteranodon’s reach, turning and moving with graceful, deliberate steps that lead into her hurling both discs toward the creature. The brief glow of aether lights up the area as they criss-crossed into the creature both into him from front and back, returning to her hands.

For her own part, N’yami wasn't quite as quick enough to dodge the tail that came slamming down, with an 'oof' she was sent back to the ground where she was before. "This bastard." With a groan she pushed herself back up to dust her coat off of any fleshy slime.

The pteranodon's maw closed on Vanriri like a bird plucking up a particularly juicy morsel, its teeth slicing easily through her leather armour as it proceeded to fling her back and into a nearby tree. She hit the trunk and slid down, unconscious or stunned, her staff falling from her hands halfway between her and the hulking undead creature. Losing no time, it swung its head around to Nazyl to do much the same -- though thankfully his armour largely prevented it from getting a good grip on him, and instead it settled for the satisfying crunch.

No one had bargained on the thing being so fast with so much of its flesh missing, but they should have, considering how fast some skeletons can move. Aiswyda watched in alarm as Vanriri soared through the air on impact while Aislinn could only curse under her breath as the lalafell hit the tree with an unnerving ‘thunk’. Nazyl moved quickly to stand between Vanriri and the beast, settling into a protective stance. He didn't need to watch someone die today. There was little more they could do in the moment. It did, however, give them a sense of urgency. The faster they could down the beast, the better.

Aiswyda continued to focus her punches at the creature’s head. One, because she thought it would do more damage, and two, because she didn’t really want to have her fist sink into the bird’s mushy torso. Her flaming fists succeeded in collapsing part of the pteranodon's skull, its motion began to seem a little more sluggish as the fire charred its flesh and blackened bone.

Back on her feet now, N’yami turned to her summon. "Whackara, ya wanna go for a little ride?" 

The carbuncle flicked her tails and already knew what was coming, with an excited squeak the summon prepared herself as N'yami held Whack like a ball in her hand. "And....go!" And with that the carbuncle went flying right through the pteranodon's body. The carbuncle made a whistling noise as she flew and like a boomerang came back to the Seeker to smack into her face....while covered in rotting flesh. 

"I hate you." the miqo’te muttered. 

As the carbuncle returned to N'yami there didn't really seem to be any effect at first, save that the pteranodon shifted slightly and began winding up for another tail swipe at the group. Then its midsection began to expand slightly, a flicker of aetherial light glowing from the slices Zorah had carved in the bulk of its middle earlier. It screeched once more -- a sound that is abruptly cut off as an impact ripples through the clearing from inside the beast -- and promptly splattered everything and everyone within a 10 fulm radius with gore as the aetherial bomb Whackara had left behind exploded.

Nazyl prepared himself for the inevitable attack, digging his boots into the dirt and raising his shield....only to me showered in a mess of rotting flesh and viscera. Gross. He exhaled slowly, staring at the ground some in quiet contemplation, before beginning to wipe the gore from his person, "Twelve, could ye a have killed it without...explodin' it?"

As the creature wavered, Aislinn saw her chance and rushed to the fallen lalafell to make a hurried assessment of her condition. Just as she had knelt at Vanriri’s side, however, the undead exploded and Aislinn simply hung her head in resignation as she was splattered in gore and rotten flesh. Yet another coat, ruined.

"To be fair that wasn't my plan." The carbuncle moved to the top of N’yami's head, each little foot squished through the flesh stuck to her. "I blame, Whackara, that was all her."

Aiswyda had been knocked over by the meaty impact, hidden under piles of miscellaneous viscera. From where she lay silent prayers leaked from her lips.

"Uh huh, blame the construct." Nazyl dryly replied. 

Vanriri was roused by the sound of the explosion; and as Aislinn approached it was clear she had some wounds that would need tending, but she seemed to be shaking off the worst of her trip. At least until she was suddenly and unceremoniously splattered with viscera which left her gaping in speechlessness. 

Surprisingly unfazed by the shower of gore, the highlander’s hands began to move as though writing in the air just above the lalafell's torso. As the arcane equation takes shape, Aislinn can feel the gemstone bracelets under her gloves heat as they release their aether, dulling the pain and redirecting blood from the injury site. It was a patch, at best. All she could do. 

She took in Vanriri's speechless face. "Surprisingly not the first time we've left a job like this." she says by way of explanation. 

“WHACKARAAAaa!” Aiswyda called out. A fist rose from the meat pile, followed by the rest of the Sea Wolf. She was covered head to toe in things that thankfully remain undescribed.

Vanriri relaxed just slightly as Aislinn's healing aether stemmed the worst of the bleeding, though she couldn’t immediately tell what was her blood, and what was the pteranodon's.

"Hey lass, ye alright? Ye took quite a hit there." Nazyl asked as he turned to Vanriri with a grimace, still wiping himself down.

"Mhm!" she squeaked immediately. She did not look alright.

"Right. Yer gettin' medical attention eithah way, in case that thing had some nasteh disease. I'll likeleh need a look too..."

Her expression said everything she didn’t as she looked at Nazyl, horrified at the idea he had just put in her head.

"It doesn't feel great either." N’yami pulled on the front of her coat as if to try and keep the flesh off her skin that had slid down with Whackara. "Someone throw me in the river."

“Nymeia's Blood, that's a good idea.” Aislinn murmured. 

Aiswyda lifted a hand and observed it. The limb is covered completely, stained red. The Roegadyn let out a sigh so long that it seemed to physically deflate her. “A river, right. We’re all going to need a good hosing off. Again!” She shook her head. “Again!”

Vanriri scrambled unsteadily to her feet, doing her best to ...not look traumatized. She looked traumatized. This was her first rodeo, guys.

Nazyl smirked in amusement, "Ye new ta this? Careful, wait too long n' ye might become a zombeh yerself!" He laughed, shaking his head, "I jest. Though, ye could get some nasteh infections if we don't get those wounds cleaned."

Vanriri did not look mollified by Nazyl humour. ".....Oh dear."

Aislinn nodded in agreement with Nazyl. She gave Vanriri a gentle look. "Could be worse. Let's get you back to the Company house."

"I'm gonna go home and shower, someone let Ma know injured are headin' to the clinic." N’yami said, still shaking out her coat. 

"Y-you have a qualified chirurgeon?" the petite lalafell asked plaintively.

Aislinn did her best not to show her amusement at the question. "With a group like ours? Indeed we do."

"Welcome ta me world." Nazyl snorted. "I deal with this daileh."

“And you never get used to it, unless your name starts with Naz and ends with ‘yl.’” Aiswyda gave Vanriri a tired, but amused look.

"I was...perhaps unprepared for this eventuality." Vanriri said, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt.

Nazyl smiled, more warmly than before, "I don't think anehone expected a bloodeh scalekin zombeh out here in the woods. I'm curious as ta why it was here in the first place..." He glanced back at the fleshless corpse, "Mayhaps we can research that latah. Fer now though, we've succeeded, n' the Shroud can sleep easiah."

Aislinn nodded and gestured to Nazyl. "As he said." she looked around at the others. "I'm going to head back and let G'lewra know you're coming."

Vanriri cleared her throat, nodding. "I--indeed. I will report the, ...success of the hunt to the Wailers on our way through Buscarrons that they might clean ...this... up before someone stumbles..." She trailed off, spying bits and pieces of what was perhaps the pteranodon's last meal in amongst a nearby pile of gore. "..."

She quickly averted her gaze up to Aislinn. "Thank you."

Aislinn gave a single nod in reply.

“Shh. Don’t think about it too much.” Aiswyda groaned, and began to make her way out of the clearing. Presumably back to Heartwood. Their job was done. The beast slain. More gil for the Company coffers. The Shroud a measure safer for those who lived within its boundaries. And, most important of all, every one of them had managed to walk away at the end of the fight. There wasn’t any better proof of success than that.